Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Diana sighed and sunk into her new couch in her new home. She had just finished moving in and redecorating the whole place. She stared at the TV with unseeing eyes; sometimes, she couldn't believe she came this far. When she was younger, she was plagued with dreams of an Asian girl named Grace, of being this girl, to the point where she couldn't distinguish what was reality and what was fantasy. Even now, she questioned if her dreams were just dreams. She would dream of high school and college, of technology that outstripped her current time, of all this knowledge that she should not know.

As an adult, however, she had to move on and accept her life as it was. Yes, her dreams had factual knowledge far beyond her years and time. Yes, the things she saw in her dreams came true at times. But, she was not an Asian girl named Grace Lee who grew up to be a neuroscientist and died surrounded by her community. She is Diana Young, a white blonde woman who ended up as a registered nurse at the age of twenty-three. She did not grow up in Georgia, but in York. She signed again and shook her head.

'I need to stop thinking about those stupid dreams and get ready for work tomorrow,' she thought to herself ruefully. She went to bed, not knowing that tomorrow would change her life. After all, she just moved into Privet Drive, Little Whinging, a place that should not exist and in fact did not exist in her old life. Not that she acknowledged her dreams as anything but dreams.

As Diana pulled into her drive way after a long day at her new workplace, the Surrey General Hospital, she startled at the sudden shouting and slamming of doors from the house next door. She looked over just in time to see the front door slam in the face of small, poorly clothed boy. Her heart went out to him as his shoulders slumped and his bowed. Fear engulfed her, however, when she saw his face. Most importantly, when she saw the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead and his piercing green eyes. She knew those features. She knew that scar! From her dreams, for a book series she – no, that girl Grace – was obsessed with for a good decade.

But…that would mean…what would that mean? She shook her head and scrambled out of the car into her house. She couldn't deal with this right now. She needed to rest, to sleep it off. This was beyond weird; how could there be a boy with the same features as a series hero? Maybe, she was hallucinating? It has been an exhausting day, after all. She could have imagined it. She shook her head and tried to go on with her evening, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head insisting that this was real and her dreams were not just dreams.

That night, as she lay in bed and as her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, she couldn't help but hear the shouts from next door and her heart ached. Regardless of her inner turmoil, there seemed to be a little boy next door being neglected, if not outright abused. She couldn't just stand aside and let that happen, especially if her dreams – memories – continued to be true. Yet, she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to action either. -If things get worse, I'll call the police- she consoles herself as she falls asleep. After all, she can't base her assumptions and accusations on simple dreams.

The week continued on in this manner with no change, despite all of Diana's best intentions. Reality seemed to demand her constant attention with work, cleaning up her new home, and placating her family about both her work and her new home.

However, this all changed on Saturday. From noon to evening she was inundated with visitors from around the neighborhood bearing housewarming gifts, food, and gossip. Needless to say, she couldn't stand most of her neighbors, what with their pretentious bearing, narrow-minded views, and thinly-veiled insults at her persons and home. It was exhausting to deal with such short-sighted and ignorant people, but her patience bore fruit.

Mrs. Number 4 (-Mrs. Petunia Dursley- her mind whispered) was at her door with a lovely dish of Lancashire Hotpot and her son and nephew at her side.

"Hello dear, my name is Petunia Dursley and I want to welcome you to Privet Drive. I live right next door with my husband Vernon," Petunia Dursley said with a polite smile. The two boys besides her – as opposite as day in night in coloring, stature, and manner – fidgeted beside Mrs. Petunia Dursley.

"Oh, thank Mrs. Dursley, my name is Diana Young. Would you like to come in?" She opened the door wider in welcome. "And who are your lovely children?"

"This" – Petunia pats the blonde, fat boy fondly on his head and graces him with a loving smile – "is my son Dudley. He's such a sweet, good boy. And smart too! He reads so well for a six-year-old!" The now named Dudley smiles up at Diana angelically with a "Nice ta meetchya, Miss Young" and closes the door for her as her hands are full with Petunia's welcome dish. Yet, despite his sweet manner and smile, Diana can't help but feel discomfited. There is a voice in the back of her head whispering –Bully! Brat! Ill-mannered, overgrown, two-faced…–, a voice she tries valiantly yet unsuccessfully to ignore.

"Oh, he is so polite," Diana agrees. "And your other son?" (-Please, please, please let him be a second son…-)

Petunia stiffens and her smile grows a bit forced. Diana feels dread like ice sliding down her back so cold was Petunia's smile. "Oh, he is not my son. He's my nephew, Harry. My sister passed away, reaping the fruits of bad decisions and Vernon and I just had to take him in. We try our best by him, but blood tells," Petunia sighs, shaking her head. Diana can't help but glance down at the dark-haired child whose eyes are glued to the floor and whose shoulders are slumped. She feels a surge of pity for him. She looks away and gestures for Petunia and her charges to be seated as she goes to the kitchen for tea.

"Oh, that's just lovely of you to take in a child in need, Petunia! I've always wanted to adopt, or even enlist myself as a foster parent, but with my education and then work I neither had the time nor the funds to do so. Maybe as I get settled, I can look into it more. Which agency did you go to, to finalize the adoption?" Diana inquires as she re-enters the living room, carrying a tea set and snacks for her now seated guests.

"Goodness! Us? Adopt the child? Oh no, we are just listed as his guardians, his caretakers. And as he is of blood relation, we never went to an agency. I'm sorry I can't help you there, dear," Petunia says. She pauses as she sips at her tea and her eyes glint with calculation. "Perhaps, though, before you go to an agency you can get some…practice. If you would like, you can take Harry for a couple of days to see if fostering, or even adopting, a child not your own is to your liking. After all, what we imagine does not always fit reality." Harry's green eyes flicker up at this, dark with sadness at his aunt's readiness to foist him off at a stranger.

"That...are you sure Mrs. Dursley? I mean, you just met me; how can you trust me with your nephew?" Diana couldn't help but ask, a tad incredulously. Petunia lifted her chin a bit defiantly and smiled that same polite, cold smile.

"Of course I'm sure, dear. I know we just met, but you seem the kind, dependable sort. I know that you will take care of Harry for us," she says. "Besides, Vernon and I could really use some help every now and then. Vernon is just so busy with work and Dudley alone is such a handful. And honestly, if you can handle a problem child such as Harry, you can handle any child in the foster care system. Harry is…difficult." Petunia sips at her tea delicately. Diana nods, eyeing the children as Dudley – seeming to tire of being polite and mannered – starts to gorge himself on the biscuits Diana laid out while Harry remains quiet and reserved, not touching his tea or the biscuits.

"Right," Diana murmurs quietly. "Well," she says a bit louder, addressing Petunia, "If you are absolutely sure about this, Mrs. Dursley, I would love to take little Harry on for a bit. Just let me know when?"

"Oh, how about you take him for the duration of the summer vacation starting next week? You see, Vernon's company is sending him out of country for work and they neglected to make accommodations for Harry. We've been in a bit of a pickle, trying to decide what to do with the child before you moved in. And here you are, generously opening your home to strangers! You are like the answer to our prayers Miss Young. I shall bring him around this Sunday evening, if that's alright with you," Petunia eyes Diana.

"Well! That's a bit sudden, but of course I would help you out. Sunday is fine. And thank you for giving me this opportunity to see if fostering is what I really want," Diana smiles warmly, if not a bit hesitantly.

"I'm glad this is all worked out," Petunia comments as she stands. "The tea was lovely, thank you. And welcome, once more, to Privet Drive."

"Thank you. See you Sunday!" Diana says as she sees them out, her gaze lingering on the small figure of Harry (–Potter- her mind adds).