The Philosopher's Stone

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Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal. Or that's how it would start if this story were about the Potter with his father's face and his mother's eyes. But this story is about the twin, who looks like her mother but has her father's eyes. Both having survived the night their parents died, only, her forehead is scarless.

The story begins after midnight, long after the Dursleys had gone to bed. Professor McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore had just been conversing about what happen to the Potters when a steadily growing rumbling sound fills the air. A huge motorcycle falls from the sky landing on the road before them. The man rising the vehicle is much larger than any human and much hairier too.  He has with him a bundle of blankets.

"Ah, Hagrid." Dumbledore sighs, sounding relieved to see the giant of a man. "At last. Where did you get the motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it," the giant steps off. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'em, sir."

"No problems were there?"

"No, sir. House was almost destroyed, but I got them out alright before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They fell asleep when I was over Bristol."

McGonagall and Dumbledore bend over the bundle of blankets. Inside are two children, a baby girl and a baby boy, their focus being on the boy and the lightning bolt shaped cut on his forehead.

"Is that where-" Professor McGonagall whispers.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is the perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give them here Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore takes the two babies in his arms and turns toward the Dursley's house.

He steps over the low garden wall and up to the front door. He lays Harry and Vanessa Potter gently on the  doorstep and pulls a letter from his cloak, tucking into the blankets, then returns to the other two. After staring at the twins for a full minute, all three take their leave. Hagrid on the bike, McGonagall as a tabby, and Dumbledore with a turn on his heel and a swish of his cloak.

The twin snuggle closer, crushing the letter between them as they slept on. Neither knowing what had happened. Not knowing they are going to be awoken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opens the door to put out milk bottles, nor that they will spend the next few weeks being poked and prodded by their cousin Dudley.  They won't know people around the world are celebrating the death of Voldemort and cheering for the boy who lived.

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