𓏲 . THE BOY WHO LIVED . .៹♡
                                                       PROLOGUE 
                                   ─── THE  BOYS WHO LIVED

It was a dark night in Privet Drive when it all started. An man appeared on the corner a cat had been watching the house of Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

The man was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

He  didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was stared at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I
should have known."

He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him.

Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside  his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but
after a moment he spoke to it."Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?"  she asked ihm.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." "You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day."  replied Professor McGonagall. "All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here. "

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right."  she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." 

She jerked her head back at a dark living-room window.  "I heard it. Flocks of owls ... shooting stars ... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them."  said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." "I know that."  said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so." said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?" "A what?" "A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather
fond of." "No, thank you."  said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone –"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by
his proper name: Voldemort."  Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. " It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You- Know-Who'. I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't." said Professor McGonagall, sounding half- exasperated, half-admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know – oh, all right, Voldemort – was frightened of." "You flatter me." said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too – well – noble to use them." "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."  Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.

"What they're saying..."  She pressed on.  "...is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – dead." 

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James ... I can't believe it ... I didn't want to believe it ... Oh, Albus ..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her gently on the shoulder.  " I know ... I know ..."  He said with a heavy voice.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' sons, Harry,Charlus. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill the little boys. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Charlus Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly." It's – it's true?"  faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done ... all the people he's killed ... he couldn't kill  some little boys? It's just astounding ... of all the things to stop him ... but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Charlus survive?" "We can only guess." said Dumbledore.  "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have  made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes."  said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?" "I've come to bring Harry and Charlus to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they had left now."

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.  "Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Charlus Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for  them." said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to  them when  they are older. I've written them a letter.

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. " Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous –  legends – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry and Charlus Potter Day in future – there will be books written about Harry and Charlus – every child in our world will know  their names!"

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top  of his half-moon glasses. 'It would be enough to turn any boys' head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off  they'll
be, growing up away from all that until  they are ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boys getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak
suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Charlus underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them." "You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" "I would trust Hagrid with my life. " replied Dumbledore. "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place." said Professor McGonagall grudgingly.  "But you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid." said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorbike?" "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir." said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it me. I've got  them, sir."

"No problems, were there?""No, sir – the house was almost destroyed but I got  them out all right before the Muggles started swarming  around. Harry fell asleep as we was flying  over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

The other baby boy was holding the fabric of his brother's clothes and stared at the two wizards in front of him, completely paralyzed. Under a tuft of  light brown hair over his forehead they could see as well a curiously shaped cut that also looked like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where –?" whispered Professor McGonagall. " Yes." said Dumbledore. "They'll have the scars for ever." "Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"  "Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give them here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house while Professor McGonagall took Charlus in her arms.  "Could I – could I say goodbye to them, sir?' asked Hagrid.

He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. He repeated the same thing with Charlus. Then, suddenly,  Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!"  hissed Professor McGonagall. " You'll wake the Muggles!"  "S-s-sorry." sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handker- chief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily and James dead – and the poor twins have to live with Muggles–"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found." Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door.

He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, Minerva also placed Charlus. Dumbledore took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside the blankets and then came back to the other two , but not before casting a light spell on the awake Potter that made him fall asleep.

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well."  said Dumbledore finally. "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." "Yeah. "said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. "I'd best get this bike away. Good night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall."  said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the  corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of
number four.

"Good luck, Harry  and Charlus  Potter." he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over
inside his blankets without waking up. His little hand grabbed his twin brother's at his side, but they both continued to sleep, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley ... They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Charlus Potter – the boys who lived!"

       ━━ AUTHORS NOTE

Hope you enjoyed the prologue! This one was identical to the first chapter of the first book with only small word changes to fit Charlus Potter, so I hope you liked it!

From the next chapter onwards it won't be identical. Charlus will have his own thoughts, actions and changes will occur throughout the books.... 👀!

Please feel free to like, comment, vote, and share!

Until next time < 3