Next Time Around

The orphanage

Authors note:
Whew, this was quickly written... two days and already an update... my muse was just constantly fluttering around me lately. Again, there might be slight mentioning of abuse in this chapter but it really isn't too bad. So yeah. That was it for what i wanted to say to you guys.

Disclaimer: I still don't own HP universe. Sadly. I don't make any money or anything with this. Still, my OC's and the plot line are mine, so please don't copy.

Enjoy!

Early the next morning, after having slept on it through the night, Dumbledore decided to keep the information of Harry's death from the public. Wouldn't want any nosy reporters to come and ask him some questions he didn't want to answer.

He Apparated over to Private Drive and knocked on the door. The sleeping charms Harry had cast, had just stopped working, and Vernon came down, opening the door. Dumbledore smiled.

'Hello Mister Dursley. First, let me ask you, how are you today?'

Vernon, still half asleep, stared at the funnily dressed man for a second, then made to close the door again. Dumbledore, his foot between the door and the wall, said:

'No no, please don't think of this wrongly but I must come in to talk to you.' Truth was, he had to search their memories, and didn't want to do that out in the open so suspiciously. Dumbledore cast a mild compulsion charm.

Vernon blinked, then opened the door and said, grumbling 'Well quickly then. And no freaky business.'

Inside, Petunia was called downstairs as well, and together they made some polite conversation. Dumbledore looked into their memories of the past few months. He saw nothing very suspicious, in fact they were doing quite well. If everything had worked out the way it was supposed to, he would have gotten a perfectly moldable, submissive little boy once Harry turned eleven.

Dumbledore would have been his savior, taking him out of the hellhole called home, and into the lovely world of magic. He would have done anything Dumbledore would have asked him to do. But now he was presumably dead...

Dumbledore quickly checked the place where they had buried the little nuisance. Ah. Not to far from here, so perfectly safe to Apparate to. After wrapping up the conversation and quickly obliviating the Dursleys so that for them this conversation had never taken place, he went directly to the opening in the forest.

Once there, he immediately sensed a heavy magical charge in the air. It couldn't have been Harry, this magic was first of all way too strong for a toddler, and second of all too old. It felt like magic coming from someone in their thirties. Dumbledore suspected maybe a young vampire or a curious wizard. Or -please Merlin no- a banshee to take the body back to their coven. Dumbledore shivered. He had had bad experiences with banshees.

He focused back on the topic at hand. Because point was, there was no body here, and dirt blasted everywhere. So either little Harry had exploded, or he had been taken. And Dumbledore really hoped it was the second option.

He popped back over to Private Drive to tell mrs Figg that Petunia had just seen it wrongly- thank Morgana for her trusting nature. She of course was all kinds of relieved, and Dumbledore played the part of the compassionate old man perfectly.

Only back in the safety of his office in Hogwarts did he allow himself to quietly giggle and snort at her gullible mannerisms whilst sucking on a lemon drop.

That same early morning, somewhere in the poorer parts of London, the entire neighborhood was woken by a loud screech coming from one of the matrons at the orphanage. She had gone outside to sweep the stairs leading up to the front door, and had spotted a little cot with a baby in it.