SE Book I: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter One

Foreword to Slytherin Edition

The first book, The Philosopher's Stone, of the Slytherin Edition Books that I will be writing in fan-fiction form, holds several similarities to the actual Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone book but has an original plot and an entire new path for the main characters. The entire series that I'll be writing will be from the perspective of not one, but four people and the occasional person who is involved who needs say in order to clarify the situation or to help progress the story forward without lengthy paragraphs and boring plot points.

The entire reason for this remake of the series in mine own view is the need for a change in how I write. I grow tired of reading Harry as he is, and need to see him in a new light and I think this is the best way to do that. Although rewriting the story is not entirely original, nor is the concept of having the main character in Slytherin, but the way I'm going about it, will hopefully be original enough. The remake of the main plot, and the addition of several new characters and new feats will hopefully keep you interested as I go back in time and relive the first year of Hogwarts Schooling.

I was inspired to write a Slytherin Harry Potter by the author, Slytherin-Nette who is currently writing the Alternate Adventure Stories: Books I and IV. I recommend reading it, if you're over the age of seventeen seeing as how the book involves several mature themes which is about the only thing I disagree with in the story, seeing as they are only fourteen but to each their own.

The most important thing to note, is that the Second Chapter, Four Emeralds, is merely filler and a rewrite to make light of one of the new characters added. While it follows what happens in the actual First Chapter of the original Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Book, it is rewritten as to how I think the characters should go about it. Its much less vague, to be blunt. The Third Chapter, Their Seventh Birthday, is a look into the changes in one of the main characters from the actual series and my series, as well as a look at how they react, and how they're different. If you're not entirely blind, you'll probably also catch onto several of their developing powers. Trust me, I'm not trying to hide those powers.

I'd love your thoughts an ideas on how to progress, and I sincerely wish you enjoy spending time reading my story.

Marcus Cicero

Dark Lord of the 21st Century

Chapter Two

Four Emeralds

The Dursleys, of Number Four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were absolutely normal, thank you very much. They were the last people on earth you'd expect to be harboring anything mysterious or questioning, because they absolutely forbid anything of the sort.

Three Dursleys lived in the perfectly kept house in the perfectly kept neighborhood that was Little Whinging, Surrey. Mr. Vernon Dursley was a huge man, who had a thick mustache and despised everything that was abnormal; teenagers, loud music, and the crowd his wife's sister hung around with.

It would be odd, perhaps a premonition of sorts, that Mr. Dursley was thinking just of this 'ruddy' crowd, as he would call it, as he finished adjusting the tie he was wearing, casting a look out the front window at the dull, gray clouds on the Tuesday that begins our story. As he turned around, he missed the tawny owl that fluttered past his window and the pointed look he received from a tabby cat he had failed to notice, perched on one of his walls outside.

He picked up his briefcase, shouted to his wife bidding her a good day and opened the door. He stepped out, closed the door and headed for his car but stopped when he finally noticed the tabby cat; it was reading a sign that said Privet Drive -- no staring at the sign, thought Vernon; cat's don't read signs he concluded, nervously. He scowled at the cat, and it whipped it's head around, quirking an eye up at him, which made him blink but when he opened his eyes again, the cat was licking its leg. It must have been a trick of the light, he reasoned as he got into his car, backed out of the driveway, mumbling about that 'ruddy' crowd and how England was going downhill because of them.

He shuddered and shaked the thought of his wife's sister's crowd and the cat out of his mind, thinking about the huge order of drills, his company, Grunnings, was going to get today at a fair rate, if he said so himself, which meant it was nothing of the sort. But thoughts of drills and big proposals were driven out of his head as he reached the edge of town seeing things he classified under his hate and abnormal column; teenagers dressed strangely. Mr. Dursley shuddered once more, drumming his fingers menacingly on the steering wheel mentally cursing young people until he noticed a group of people huddled, whispering in what seemed to be an exciting manner. That's when he noticed they weren't young at all! Ruddy Hell! The nerve! Wearing clothes like that in public at that age! he snapped to himself. Then it struck Vernon that these people were most likely some anti-war freaks, or pro-abortionists, or even supporters of a liberal type government and were out collecting. Yes, that's it, he thought as he sighed.

Traffic moved along, and Vernon eagerly sped up and a few minutes later he was parked in the Grunnings Parking Lot, outside his office building, his mind set on drills once more. Vernon Dursley trudged up to his ninth story office and enjoyed a pleasent morning, unaware of the events transpiring below; owls swooping and hooting, numerous 'weirdos' dressed in strange outfits talking excitedly, and people who were somewhat like Mr. Dursley, looking at them as if hell had frozen over, and they had elected a liberal Prime Minister who was going to allow scruffiness. Mr. Dursley was in a very good mood until lunch time, when he decided to take a break to get a cup of coffee across the steet at his favorite bakery.

He'd forgotten all about those 'ruddy' freaks dressed in strange outfits such as cloaks and robes until he passed by a group of them outside of the bakery, talking in hushed whispers in a once again exciting manner. He eyed them angrily, grumbling about how it had nothing to do with him so he should just move on. Another premonition, if he'd think about it and he did certainly just that as he exited the bakery with an English Toffee Cappuchino and a large donut clenched in his grubby hands. As he walked by the strange group of people, dressed in all sorts of odd colors; violet, lurid green, and navy blue, he caught some of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, both of them, can you imagine that. Harry and -- ?" squeaked a man with a bowler hat, but the last part of the sentence could not be heard since he finished it in an excited whisper.

Vernon Dursley stopped dead, visibly paling at what had just been uttered. Fear flooded him as he looked back at the crowd that was whispering, looking as if he wanted to inquire some information but thought better of it.

He dashed back to his office, snarled at his secretary to leave him in peace, yanked up the phone and had almost completed dialing his home phone number before stopping and thinking on the words uttered for a moment. He thought for a moment, thinking the whole plot was stupid. Potter wasn't an unusual surname and Harry was an even more ordinary name, a scruffy one at that he muttered but he was most afraid of what that man had been about to say. He snorted. It would not matter, its not like I have to deal with those ruddy freaks, he thought, calming down, perhaps another premonition...

He found it impossible to concentrate on his work as he left the building at around five, so visibly worried and afraid that he ran into a person.

"Sorry." he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and nearly fell. It was only a split second before Vernon noticed the guy was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem too angry that he had nearly been ploughed over, but instead, broke out into a huge grin and said in a squeaky voice that made several other's stare, "Don't be sorry, sir! Don't dear Muggle-friend! For today is the grandest of days for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has finally fallen from his Dark Throne! Even our dear Muggle-friends should be rejoicing!"

The old man hugged Mr. Dursley, bowed, and shouted, "Defeated by children!" and he laughed.

Mr. Vernon Dursley stood rooted to his spot. He had just been hugged by a homosexual, he thought. And he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car, got in, and sped towards home, hoping for the first time ever that he was imagining things, simply because imagination fit under that category of weird, and abnormal.

He pulled into the driveway and got out of his car but visibly tensed as he caught sight of what was still perched upon his wall, the tabby cat, and he bellowed at it to get lost but the cat gave him a stern glare. Is this normal behavior for a cat, he thought, not improving his mood in the slightest. He went inside his house, determined to relax and not utter a word to his wife, Petunia Dursley, a blonde, tall and petite woman who had a large neck, horse teeth, and pale white skin.

She too was a neat-freak who despised abnormal things as she gossiped over dinner about the next door neighbor's problems and how it was utterly abnormal to have garden gnome statues and how it should be punishable by death, preferably a firing squad. Mr. Dursley tried to act normal, as he and his wife head up to their room after a delicious meal but stopped Petunia before they opened their bedroom door.

He cleared his throat nervously, afraid of the reaction from his wife as he asked a question. "Uhm -- Petunia, dear, have you heard anything from Lily, your sister?" he inquired, his mind pleading for some reassurance that England wasn't going to go to the dogs due to the abnormality of recent events.

As he expected, his wife immeadietly looked shocked and angry. Afterall, they pretended she didn't exist. The ruddy freak, he thought.

"No" she said, rather coldly, "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news" mumbled Vernon "Owls sighted, shooting stars all over England and no place else... and there were a lot of funny looking people in town today."

"So?" snapped, Mrs. Dursley.

"Possibly her crowd," he said, in an even more silent whisper.

Petunia pursed her lips, scowling. Mr. Dursley wondered if he dared to mention he had heard the name 'Potter.' He instantly decided he didn't dare upon seeing the murderous look on her face but instead asked casually, "Their son, he's about Dudley's age, r-right?"

"Unless you're counting minutes as ages, then they'd both be about Duddykin's age" she snapped, in an irratible manner.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. The other little freak is Erynn," she spat the name out as if she had just tasted horse manure, "Utterly pathetic names, common and vile names if you ask me."

"Oh yes, I quite agree" Vernon mumbled, his heart sinking into his stomach, "Yes... quite agree..."

He didn't say another word on the subject as he opened the door for his wife, following in after her and creeping towards the window, staring down towards the street. He wondered if his heart could have taken anymore as he noticed the cat staring down his street, as if it was waiting for something.

Could he be imagining things? Oh dear, he thought. Could this all have to do with 'those' Potters?, he continued within the recesses of his mind. If it did, he couldn't bare to think of how horrible it would be if anyone found out they were related to them.

He finally got into bed with his wife, Petunia instantly falling asleep but Vernon was very much awake, staring at the ceiling as the thoughts turned over in his mind. His last and only comforting thought before he drifted off into a dream about drills was that even if all was true and if it was those Potters, they had no reason to involve themselves with his family, they knew how they thought of their kind. He couldn't see how he and his lovely Petunia could ever get mixed up with those freaks, he thought, finally turning over and drapping an arm around the waist of the wife he loved, dearly. He yawned and finally fell asleep, it couldn't affect them..., his final part of that final thought stated.

Was he ever wrong.

The Dursleys may have been off into a peaceful and very much wanted sleep but the cat perched on the wall outside Number Four Privet Drive was nothing of the sort. It was sitting still as a statue, its eyes piercing at a corner of Privet Drive, unblinkingly. It didn't even flinch or move a single hair as a car made a screeching noise on the next street, something that made all three Dursleys snort in their sleep. Infact, it had not moved since six and it remained that way till nearly midnight.

A man appeared on that corner where the cat's eyes had been piercing, so suddenly as if he had appeared right out of thin air or perhaps out of the ground. The cat twitched as its eyes narrowed.

The man simply waved his hand and all the lights on Privet Drive suddenly went out, casting the entire street into darkness save for the two unblinking eyes of the tabby cat that had seemed to smirk for a mere second. No man like this had ever appeared on normal and unweird Privet Drive, but considering recent events, it was plausible. He was tall, thin, and looked quite old, but seemed to be hiding his true age as he strided unlike any man of his age should. He was wearing elegant white robes and elegant boots that seemed to be made of an unusual material. The man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize he had just arrived on a street and in a community where his apperance was worthy of stoning, should any of the neighbors find out. He knew he was being watched as he finally looked around and spotted the tabby cat with his light blue eyes that were twinkling with mirth, madly. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He continued down the street towards Number Four where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it but he spoke to it after a few more moments of peaceful quietness that seemed to calm the old man, as well as the cat down.

"Fancy seeing you here, Minerva."

He turned to smile at the tabby cat, but it had left. In its place sat a stern-looking woman who held herself up in a prim and proper manner. She wore square-framed glasses and her hair was slightly ruffled, but held in a bun.

"How did you know it was me, Albus?" she asked.

"My dear lady, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you sat on a wall all day," said Minerva McGonagall.

"All day? When you could be out feasting and celebrating. Why, I must have past a half-dozen feasts on my way here," he chuckled, softly.

Ms. McGonagall sniffed, angrily.

"Yes, everyone's celebrating alright," she started impatiently, "You'd think they'd tone it down a bit, perhaps be a bit more careful, but no -- even the non-magical people have noticed something is going on. It was on their news!" she snapped, even more impatiently. She jerked her head back to the Dursley window, "I heard it. Flocks of owls, shooting stars, and odd sightings of people wearing weird cloaks and robes. Well they're not completely stupid, they've noticed it. Really!" she added, "Shooting stars down in Kent! No doubt the work of Dedalus Diggle. Never did have a brain, that one."

Dumbledore smiled at his colleague, "You can't blame them," he started, gently, "We've had precious little time to celebrate in so very long -- eleven years," he added, staring off into space, his eyes losing their twinkle for a brief moment.

"I know that," she added with a sniff, recalling memories of her own, "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being utterly careless, dressed up in our normal wear out in plain daylight, not even cloaks Albus! Robes, I tell you..." she finished, also looking off into space.

She threw a glance at Albus Dumbledore, as if waiting for him to say something that she had been patiently waiting to hear, noticing that he didn't she added gently, "It's true, isn't?" she spoke feably, "T-they're really gone?" a tear, which was so uncharacteristic of the woman, slid down her cheek.

"No, they're not all gone Minerva," he added, his eyes losing all of the sparkle, "Lord Voldemort-" Minerva flinched, "showed up in Godric's Hollow last night, set his sights on taking the entire family out... he... he killed Lily and James..." he whispered, his eyes closing, but he too, let a tear out.

"No, Albus!" she gasped, "No, how, they're- but... oh dear... then, then its true... he - they..." but she could not form a coherent sentence, for she felt the loss of her two most favorite students and beloved friends causing too much grief.

"He turned his wand on Harry and Erynn... The oddest situation I've ever seen... he sent the curse, that is no doubt, and it bounced off of them, I believe, and he lost his power," he said, thinking deeply.

"What? How can they both be hit?" Minerva asked in a sad whispher, still surprised.

"Harry's head was laid upon Erynn's chest, atleast when I found him, and I inspected them both and found two scars that are the oddest things I've ever seen, remarkably identical; one on Mr. Potter's forehead, and one on Ms. Potter's stomach, an inch away from Mr. Potter's head. I'm being silly of course, but I believe Mr. Potter may have... actually tried to take the curse..."

"Albus! What proof is there of that?" she snapped, suddenly irritated at such an idea of infants being saviors, although, stranger things have happened this day, she thought.

"I have my reasons..." he whispered, and Minerva knew that was the end of that so she decided to repeat something she had been hoping to see for eleven long years.

"You-Know-Who is finally gone," she whispered, as she smiled a teary smile.

"Surely my dear professor, a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' nonsense. For eleven years I've tried to teach and persuade people to call him Voldemort-" McGonagall flinched, once again, "It all gets confusing when we keep saying 'You-Know-Who' and quite, frankly there's nothing to be afraid of when it comes to his name."

"You of course don't feel that way Albus," she added gently, "you're different. You're the only one You-Kn -- ok, Voldemort, ever feared. You have every right."

"You flatter me," Dumbledore said calmly, "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're the most noble man of of our time and would never use them, Albus," she said, smiling.

"Thank gosh its dark. I haven't blushed so much since Poppy told me she simply adored my new ear muffs," he said, chuckling a little. Minerva turned and smiled at him before pondering for a split second.

"So, that's all you have on the matter of the twins?" she asked, hoping to find out more about this sudden turn of events.

"I'm afraid so -- just theories..." he said, calmly, "we really may never know."

"Lily..." she whispered into the cold night, taking her handkerchief out and dabbing the tears that had now began to openly flow from her once stern looking eyes.

Dumbledore sniffed too, taking out a peculiar watch that looked nothing like a watch for it had twelve hands and no time at all. "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

Minerva gave him a stern look before softening again, "Yes, and I suppose you're not going to tell me why you're here of all places?"

"I've come to bring Erynn and Harry to their new home, this is their aunt and uncle's house. There the only family they has left."

Minerva gasped, looking at him as if he had declared fortune-telling a truthful practice. "B-but Albus! You c-can't possibly mean these people! You can't! I've watched them all day. You couldn't find people who are less like us in a million years," she gasped, frantically searching and hoping for some punchline to this cruel joke, "What would Lily say! She'd come back and kill us all!"

"It's the best place for them," Dumbledore started, "their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when they grow older. I've composed them a letter."

"A letter?" she repeated, faintly, "Really, Albus, you think you can explain our world in a letter... all of this in a letter... These people will never understand them -- shun them! Why -- why," she started again, searching for words, "they'll be famous! I wouldn't be surprised if yesterday was declared a European Holiday! Children will grow up with their names..." she finished in a whisper.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, giving Minerva a stern look, "it'd be enough to turn anyone's head. Famous twins before they could even walk, or talk. Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how better off they would be, growing up away from all of this until they're ready to take it?"

Minerva McGonagall opened her mouth, thought better of it, swallowed, and then said, "I suppose you're right. But how will Erynn and Harry arrive, Albus?" she eyed Dumbledore's robes and cloak suspiciously, as if he were hiding them underneath. I've seen stranger things from good ol' Albus, she smirked.

Dumbledore chuckled, "I'm not hiding them underneath my hat or robes Minerva-," she glared, "Hagrid's bringing them." She paled.

"You think it was -- well -- wise? To trust him to carry out such an important task..." she whispered.

"I trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

Before McGonagall could question him more on the issue, a low grumbling noise was heard from above, growing steadily louder with each passing moment, causing the old man and woman to look up. It swelled to a roar as a huge motorcycle landed on the road right next to them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the shaggy-haired, tall, and well-rounded man who sat upon it. He had huge hands that were as big as saucer pans, and his mane seemed to cover all of his face, save for his two tear-glistened eyes. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, relieved at the site of his colleague, "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir" said the giant, handling the bundles well, and carefully getting off the motorcycle, "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them sir."

"Any problems, Hagrid?," asked Dumbledore, gazing into the giant's eyes.

"No sir, the house was almost destroyed, sir. I got them out all right before the Muggles started showing up. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall bent over the bundles of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy and girl. The boy had, under his tuft of jet-black hair, on his forhead, a curiously shaped scar in the form of a bolt of lightning.

"Is that.." started Minerva.

"Yes, as I said..." Dumbledore spoke, quietly.

"Oh, can't you do anything for them, hide them?," Minerva whimpered, thinking of the recognition in their world it would get him. Atleast hers isn't visible, she reasoned.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. They come in quite handy. Why, I have a scar on my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with," he said in a somber tone.

Dumbledore took both Erynn Lily Potter and Harry James Potter in his arms and turned towards the Dursley Residence.

"Could I -- Could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over both their sleeping bodies, gave each a very whiskery, wet kiss. Then suddenly, he sobbed out a cry that sounded like the howl of a shot hound.

"Hush!" whispered Minerva, frantically, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," whispered Hagrid, taking out his handkerchief, and dabbing his swollen eyes with it, "b-but I can't stand it. L-lily, oh Lily an' J-james dead -- an' poor little Harry and Erynn off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, I perfectly understand Hagrid, but get a grip on yourself or we'll be found," Minerva whispered, gently, a tear rolling down her cheek as she patted Hagrid, gingerly on his back. "I'll miss you, Lily... James..." she whispered in what she thought was too quiet of a voice to be heard, but Dumbledore heard it and he too felt suddenly ill as reality once again was slapped in his face.

Dumbledore walked towards the door, a few tears coming down his cheek, something so odd for a man like him; regarded as simply the strongest and most powerful of his kind around. He laid both Erynn and Harry gently down on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, placed it between the two, in plain view, and came back to the other two. They stood there for a full ten minutes, reflecting on the memories of Lily and James, on what was to come, each knowing this life would not be easy for young Erynn and Harry. Hagrid's shoulder's shuddered and shook, Minerva blinked back the many tears, and Dumbledore's almost always twinkling eyes looked deeply depressed and sad.

"Well," Dumbledore finally said, "that is all we can do. There is no point in staying here, we might as well try and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night Professor McGonagall, mam -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the massive motorcycle once again, kicking the engine to life and with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, my dear lady Minerva," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Minerva blew her nose into her handkerchief in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street from the way he came. On the corner he stopped, turned around and waved his hand again, the street lights blaring into life again. He could just see a tabby cat slinking in the shadows near Number Four and the top of the bundle of blankets that contained the two heroes of his world.

"I am sorry Lily -- James, for failing you," he whispered, a final tear rolling down his cheek, "Good luck Erynn -- Harry, lean on each other," and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A cold breeze ruffled the hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky-sky, the very last place you would expect extraordinary things to happen. Both Harry James Potter and Erynn Lily Potter rolled towards each other, waking up, and laying a hand on each other. They did not know they were special, nor did they know they were famous. They did not know that in a very few hours they would be taken in by Petunia Dursley, their mother's sister, as she screamed at the surprise while trying to place her empty milk bottles outside. All they would come to know for a very long time is that the two of them would only have each other to love.

All across England and most parts of Europe, people were raising their glasses in toast to Erynn and Harry Potter, as four very afraid, emerald-colored eyes shined in the darkness from a bundle of blankets on the doorstep of Number Four, Privet Drive in Little Whining, Surrey.

Chapter Three

Their Seventh Birthday

Sixty-nine months had past since the opening of our story and the Dursley household seemed to carry on in regular fashion. Elegant pictures lined several areas of the house; some of them containing the still elegant yet scornful appearance of Mrs. Dursley, some containing the even more round and well-dressed Mr. Dursley, and even more so than the previous two, containing pictures of the steadily increasing in size Dudley Dursley. Furniture matched perfectly in every room, and the vibrant colors of the house made it seem even more unhuman. Everything in its place, not a speck of dust could be found -- perfectly normal -- and that was just the way Mr. and Mrs. Dursley liked it, and would certainly boast they had a perfectly normal family.

But that was a lie.

For in the tiniest of rooms -- not even a bedroom at that -- laid two children who were fast asleep; the boy who had messy jet-black hair and a handsome face had a protective arm wrapped around his sister, who had shiny and well-kept jet-black hair and was a very pretty little girl. They slept on the tiniest of beds with the lightest of covers and a single pillow in which both their heads were comfortably rested upon. Strange things seemed to follow these two, or perhaps happen to these two. The pillow they slept on was one of the many of those odd happenings for when they had received that very pillow when the hand-me-down pillow of Dudley Dursley had finally caused enough crick necks, it was nothing but uncomfortable. Yet somehow, after both of them spent the entire night dreaming and wishing with all their might that the pillow would somehow become better, they awoke to just that and more. They of course spoke nothing of it and decided that what Mrs. Dursley didn't know, would probably keep them from getting killed.

Their apperance for the conditions they faced at such an early age were remarkable; the boy, while still malnourished seemed healthy and his face was full of life and deterimination as was the girl's. She was closer to where she had to be for her age in weight but this was in large part due to her brother forcing her to take more food and she often wondered how he did it -- she often thought she heard her brother's voice in her head commanding her to do it, but she reasoned it was just her stomach since they both had ones that grumbled often enough.

The Dursleys were unaware of how cunning the two were; they never heard or saw signs of their midnight raids to the pantries of the kitchen and the fridgerator for scraps that would go unnoticed. The brave trips to the upstairs bathroom to get vitamins, lotions, and shampoos so that they could stay healthy, and look decent when they went to school were just as successful. The twins were quite the team, which was another odd thing in itself.

The two hardly fought, and where most siblings would rib or take the mickey out on each other, the two seemed to find love in each other -- an innocent family love for each other that made the harsh life of living with the Dursleys, a bit easier to suffer. They were very protective of one another whether it be in facing the Dursleys, the bullies at school who sided with Dudley in fear of facing his wrath should they try to befriend them, or the taunts and insults they received from Mr. and Mrs. Dursley about how worthless their parents were, which was about the only thing that would get them angry.

Perhaps the most odd, and certainly most saddest thing about these two was that they were relatives of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley -- nephew and niece in fact. Yet, if the Dursleys could, they would gladly remove them from the family, have them shipped to an orphanage, and wouldn't care what happened to them -- even if the children were devoured by lions. Which was the very reason that Erynn Lily Potter and Harry James Potter lived in the smallest room, the cupboard, and received little care if any at all. They were to be shunned, and the Dursleys often blamed them for everything. Whether it be a rainy day that had too much rain, or a box of cereal that didn't have the prize their Dudley wanted, it was Erynn and Harry's fault.

Though they occasionally did wish they would get mauled by lions or tigers, or perhaps get to live with any other family in England, they survived the turmoil and strife that was caused while living under the Dursley house and while it was a childhood no normal person would have or want, they were impressively stronger than most people; their courage, intelligence, cunning, politeness and overall determination to improve their lives at such a young age, was remarkable and would gain praise from most relatives or parental figures, but the Dursleys just scoffed at their good marks in school and good manners and stuck to the belief that they were nothing but good for nothing free-loaders and gave their love and praise to their Dudley, who received horrible marks and was a lazy and greedy boy who ate far too much than he need to and made demands of his parents to buy him things, which they were happy to do.

Unfortunatly though, things would get worse one day before their seventh birthday.

Erynn an Harry were still asleep. Their quiet and soft breathing was all that could be heard in the small cupboard. Erynn snuggled up closer to Harry, sighing in content, smiling as she dreamt about a flying motorcycle. Both of them were sleeping peacefully, but that wouldn't last for long. It was Aunt Petunia's shrill voice and loud knocking on the cupboard door that startled them out of their dreams.

"Up! Get up this instant!" screeched Aunt Petunia, "I want you in the kitchen in five minutes!" Her footsteps faded away as Harry and Erynn groaned and forced their eyes to open. They smiled at each other and both began getting out of bed, slowly. They dressed quickly (they had gotten used to seeing each other and thought nothing of it) and were about to leave when Harry got a strange sense of foreboding.

"Wait," Harry muttered.

"Wait what?" asked Erynn, who had released the door knob that she had nearly opened.

"There's... there's something wrong," he said, which earned him a puzzled look from his sister, "I don't know what it is, but go and get that watch you took from Dudley's room."

Not one to argue when her brother felt there was something amiss in the house, which would be odd to anyone save for the two, she walked to her side of the bed. Harry always had those moments where he felt something was going to happen that would not be good for the two, and she thought nothing of it since, for as long as she could remember, it had always been like this.

She kneeled down and began tugging at a floorboard that quickly left the floor. There, buried in the floor were an odd assortment of things; snacks, medicine, kits, books, school supplies, and several things they took from their cousin Dudley, which would go unnoticed by the over-sized seven year old since he had too much stuff to begin with. She reached down, shuffled through a few items and pulled out a watch that clearly read 5:03. Her eyes shot open at this new piece of information, and she looked back at Harry with worry.

"It's only five in the morning!" she whispered in an anxious voice. This wouldn't be odd for any other day save for Sunday, which it was. The Dursleys acted the part of a religious family, and would save working Erynn and Harry to death until they returned from ten o'clock mass, and always made them work inside the house incase neighbors caught wind that they made children work on the Sabbath. Harry's groggy eyes instantly shot open.

"Five in the morning!," he groaned again. He still had a strange feeling that told him something was still wrong but he pushed that thought away as Erynn spoke again.

"Maybe they want to start working us on Sundays too," she whispered again, curious as to what could change a Dursley routine, since the neat-freaks loved running things by their book to the very dot. They both look lost in thought for a few seconds more and they both concluded that it was very understandable that the Dursleys would love to give them more work as they grew up.

"Perhaps you're right..." he started, but his mind was not wholly convinced, "Perhaps its just more work. We'll be seven tomorrow so they probably decided it would be a great present to make us remodel the house or fix Dudley's meals for the rest of eternity," he finished with a grin, and Erynn giggled. She walked back to him by the door and nudged him.

"I don't think we're old enough to handle fixing meals around the clock for the killer-whale, Harry."

Ribbing and making fun of Dudley was routine and Harry and Erynn enjoyed it immensely, and it was about the only cruel act they took pride in. Dudley Dursley deserved every bit of it. They would always come up with jokes or insults about Dudley and were actually brave enough to say them to his face, but the boy never got them and that made Harry and Erynn laugh even more.

Harry smiled and was about to mention that it might be something more severe but never got the chance to since Aunt Petunia decided to beat on the door with even more fury as she used a very cold and shrill voice to get her message to the two inside.

"OUT THIS VERY MINUTE OR I'LL HAVE YOUR UNCLE BEAT THE DOOR DOWN."

Both Harry and Erynn shuddered for a split second, but quickly masked their fear and concern for what may happen to one another as they opened the door and came eye to eye with the piercing gaze of their Aunt, who looked racked with hate and loathing for the two children standing before her. "Kitchen. NOW." was all she said as she stormed towards that very place. The two followed her but kept their distance incase Aunt Petunia wanted to beat them to death.

Wonder what we did now, Harry thought, as another pang of feeling told him that he would not like what was to come but he instantly told that pang that he never did like anything that involved Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, or their pig-cousin Dudley and that it was nothing out of the normal. Aunt Petunia opened the door to the kitchen, and Harry caught site of what was probably causing the harshness Aunt Petunia was directing towards his sister and him: the kitchen was a complete mess.

It looked as if the fridge had exploded as Harry surveyed the room. The walls were covered in chocolate syrup, as was the stove and table. There was milk spilled all over the floor, and fruit juice poured on all the cloth and linens. Orange Juice still dripped from the curtains, and the cutting boards and floor were litered with various squished fruits and vegetables. Harry didn't see the furious face of his Uncle as he took in what was once a perfectly kept kitchen, one he had to clean just yesterday.

Erynn was not as blind to the death glares both she and her brother were receiving that would have killed an entire room full of people but she was used to it, living in their house though she had to admit that neither she nor Harry had received one that was filled with such loathing and hatred. His face was a very puce color and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists and he seemed ready to explode. And Harry still hasn't caught sight of him. How is that possible, he's certainly not a one-seat man or two for that matter, she thought, giggling madly inside her head at the crude humor she reserved for the Dursley family but she stopped quickly, seeing the stoic face the fourth person in the room wore: Dudley Dursley. Instantly she understood what was going on. That no good for nothing whale! This is horrible...

Sure, Dudley Dursley took advantage of his parents in the rivalry he forced upon his cousins, and he certainly got them in trouble but this was far beyond the petty punishments they received when Dudley decided to devour half the fridge and blame the twins, or when he destroyed a plate and accused them of tripping him while he was leaving the kitchen. No, this was in a whole league of its own and she was not only furious, but afraid for what was coming.

Harry finally caught sight of the now red in the face angry look his Uncle was shooting him, and he lost his mask in fear but only for a second, his brain screaming to get out of there but noticed that Erynn seemed rooted to the spot in fear and she being within distance of getting mauled by the large man. He moved closer and stepped infront of Erynn, meeting his Uncle's eyes with his own which once again displayed no emotion. He knew very well that this was Dudley's fault, finally picking up on why Erynn looked furious yet scared -- he was scared too, but his sister was obviously too afraid to shoot her a look and devise a plan. Instead, he chose the path that would lead him to a scolding or work, he could certainly handle that and could always get his sister to help him.

"I-is there anything... wrong, Uncle?," he asked, instantly feeling stupid for not rehearsing that better. Uncle Vernon seemed to agree with his thoughts as he quickly closed the distance and grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt and lifted him off the ground with his white knuckled hands. Erynn looked absolutely frightened as she became even more furious at the scene before her. She stepped forward, but Harry shot her a look that said to stop and her eyes glistened in fear.

Just then, his mind, without his permission, conjured a scene before him; his sister lying before his uncle, and his fist connecting with her face. He shuddered before he regained control of his mind, now looking back up at his Uncle, who had decided to try speaking since his looks had done nothing to frighten the boy.

"YOU... YOU... FREAK!...," he bellowed. Everyone's face changed; Harry looked confused, Erynn whimpered, while becoming more enraged at the false accusation that they had did this to the kitchen, Dudley smirked and looked on with glee, and Aunt Petunia was nodding in approval. "I FEED YOU, GIVE YOU A ROOF OVER YOUR MISERABLE HEADS AND YOU DO THIS TO MY KITCHEN? GIVE ME A GOOD REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T KNOCK YOUR HEAD RIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS."

Harry James Potter never cowered under his Uncle's bellowing, nor did he show emotion and often remained cool-headed in distressing situations which explained why he was often the leader of anything they did. He was certainly not going to start looking scared now, although he felt very much that way. He may have been only six - nearly seven, but he was a very bold and often dauntless boy and he found it fit to reply in a calm and fearless manner, instead of what he really wanted, which was to be sarcastic and mention how his Uncle couldn't knock his head off at the shoulders because he had a neck unlike him.

"Because I never did any-" he said slowly, but before he could finish, he had been slapped across the cheek, quite hard, and for the first time in either Harry or Erynn's lives, one of them had been hit by their Aunt or Uncle.

"Don't. You. Dare. Say. You. Didn't. Do. It." he breathed, turning even more red in the face while Harry's eyes glistened, trying to restrain the tears and the pain. Uncle Vernon looked beyond Harry and fixed Erynn with a stare. Harry turned his head around and peered at Erynn. She displayed every emotion; love for her brother, fear for his safety, hatred for her Uncle, and absolute anger at their accuasations. "You filthy little whore," he sneered at the girl, "you'll get yours as soon as I'm done with this scruffy filth." Erynn's eyes shot open in surprise. She mentally weakened and questioned what's wrong with her, caring about what a mean bully like her Uncle said about her but it was the fact that she was Erynn Lily Potter and they were still her relatives and she wanted their approval and praise, as would any child.

She was so much like Harry but it was her inability to hide her emotion during distressing situations that made her a fighter instead of a cool-headed negotiater like Harry. She was certainly strong, and very powerful when she had to be. She watched, wanting to do something, as Harry looked back at their Uncle, trying to fight the pain and slurred.

"If you ever touch her-" but Uncle Vernon once again cut him off with another slap to his face.

His uncle focused his attention on the boy again. "DON'T TALK BACK." He slapped him again, "I WANT YOU TO APOLOGIZE RIGHT THIS INSTANT FOR DISRESPECTING ME," and yet another, "AND ANOTHER APOLOGY FOR CAUSING THIS MESS IN THE KITCHEN," an finished with an even harder hit before dropping Harry to the ground with a sickening thud where he groaned, not yet strong enough to take a beating such as that at the doorstep of age seven. He looked around, trying to fight off the voice that told him to lay down and noticed that his Aunt and cousin had left the kitchen. He finally caught sight of his sister, and tried to tell her to flee but her sister looked livid.

Erynn was furious. She took a step forward, unnoticed by her Uncle who was scowling at Harry as if he were garbage. She had never felt so angry in her life, and moreso, never felt so scared in her life; her brother was lying there receiving a beating and she wasn't able to do anything and had to wait to receive hers. She felt weak, but what Uncle Vernon said next would cause that weakness to flee her mind for awhile.

"Why I ever allowed you to stay in this house when I knew you'd be as worthless and carefree as your pathetic bitch of a mother and freak of a father, I don't know," Vernon boomed, getting ready to deliver the finishing blow to the boy and then hell broke loose.

Erynn screamed in fury, stepping forward, everything around her blurring as her body was racked in anger and disgust at such a vile relative. Vernon was startled and frightened, but this did nothing for Erynn took no notice of it as she continued to wail. Every piece of glass in the room - the jars, the drinking glasses, the windows, and Harry's glasses - exploded with such ferocity that she received several shards despite her being atleast ten feet from any glass. She stopped screaming and was about to look around in surprise, when she felt someone near her as her surroundings began unfogging.

Uncle Vernon's hand connected with her cheek, sending her to the ground -- her form sliding a few feet in the process. Uncle Vernon began shouting at her -- getting in her face and telling her how worthless and pathetic she was and the fear dwelled once again in her heart and mind. She thought that this was alright; it was only a few slaps which Harry had taken and if Harry could take it, she could too. She looked up and her eyes widened at how wrong she was: her Uncle's hand was no longer made to slap, but clenched in a tight fist that was made for punching the daylight's out of people. She closed her eyes, waiting for it, hoping she wouldn't die. I'm only six, please... please..., she thought, frightened out of her wits.

Harry regained control of his mind and body once more, and opened his eyes and instantly paled. There, ten feet from him was his sister, lying on the ground with fear registered in her eyes, their Uncle looming above her with every intention on causing her harm. Emotion he had never felt before took over his heart, his mind, and he got to his feet as something strange played within him as he fought back the tears of pain from his own wages received and the sadness in seeing his sister in such a position, it was almost as if a battle song played within him as a single tear slid down his cheek and it seemed to heal him and it made him aware of the incident that was about to occur as his Uncle raised his clenched fist ready to strike, and Erynn's eyes closed.

Harry thought nothing of it - as if it were instinct, and in his nature to do such things - as he closed the distance and jumped in front of his sister, snapping his eyes shut. His Uncle's fist connected with his jaw, and he was knocked into his sister who had just opened her eyes wondering why she hadn't been killed yet and gasped in shock, as she saw her brother's eyes open and roll to the back of his head. Darkness consumed Harry, and he was out like a light for the time being.

Aunt Petunia had just walked back into the kitchen, curious as to what had caused that large rattling noise. She surveyed the scene quickly; glass shattered everywhere, and her husband looking on with shock at two bodies, which were her nephew and niece -- the niece hugging the nephew fiercly as blood trickled from his mouth. Swelling and bruising was apparent on both cheeks and his jaw was forming both rather quickly. Her stomach clenched and her heartbeat raced. She was instantly fearing for her family, no - not Harry nor Erynn, but her Dudley and Vernon for she was supposed to keep those brats from harm, or face the wrath of Albus Dumbledore. She crossed the room towards her husband, trying to calm him down.

Erynn began rocking Harry's pale form and she became less aware of her surroundings. She muttered pleas of help for her brother, and tears began falling, freely. Someone touched her and she cowered, frightened. She looked up, her eyes filled with more unshed tears and saw Aunt Petunia looking down at her. Aunt Petunia moved her out of the way, taking Harry in her arms and took him to the cupboard, Erynn following right behind her. They entered the room and her Aunt dumped him onto the bad without any emotion, without checking if he was okay, and disregarded the sickening groan and blood that trickled down his face.

Aunt Petunia left the room with Erynn staring after her, visibly shocked, physically and mentally weakened at the fact that her own Aunt could not care less if Harry died. She asked herself if they were that bad, as she went back to the loose floorboard, ripping it up, and searching for the medicine and medical kits. She began crying again and was about to pick up the antisceptic wash when her brother startled her.

Harry's mind swirled with thousands of memories, some unexplainable. He was in the darkness, his mind screaming to allow him out, to let him help her, but his mind was not kind at all, as a nightmare took formation. Low hisses came from a dark corner, low hisses that he could understand.

"Eat her..."

"Poison her..."

"Swallow her..."

Light shined from a stick he was holding, and his mind shuddered at the thousands of snakes that surrounded his sister. He began talking to them, hissing at them and pleading.

"Leave her..." he hissed, and the real Erynn mentally weakened at her brother's cries. She looked frantically for bandages and cotton swabs.

"Take me instead..."

"Please..." he said, beginning to cry. Erynn could take no more, and as she looked up she gasped, dropping the supplies she had gathered. There on the bed lie Harry, his eyes filled with tears, some streaking all the way down to his throat, but what had startled Erynn, was how there were no bruises or signs that Harry had nearly been killed. Harry's breathing become softer and he muttered once more.

"I love her...," he whispered and Erynn's eyes lit up. She sat on the bed, taking in his face as she inched a hand over and touched his skin, seeing if it was really healed. She moved his bangs out of the way and lightly touched his scar. Her heart quickened as reality set in. How, she questioned her mind. Then an entire set of questions seemed to plague her innocent young mind.

How did I break that glass...

How did he heal so fast...

How could he take that punch...

Erynn spent much of the day reading various books, trying to study for the new term coming up but she couldn't concentrate, seeing her only friend and love in life laying on a bed, unconscious. She finally got tired of pretending to read and moved towards the bed, feeling lucky that she had gotten a brother like Harry. Her mind replayed what he had said, and she wondered if he had meant it. She had never been loved before, for no one had told her anything of the sort. She figured thats how Harry felt about her, and how she felt about him, and she felt wonderful from hearing the words. She finally got into bed with her brother, drew the covers around her and fell asleep. The hours ticked away as they enjoyed the warmth each other provided, and smiled into each other's embrace as they dreamt of flying broomsticks.

The young little girl stirred at nearly midnight from her dream and bumped her head into Harry's jaw, causing him to groan and mutter.

"Geroff" he grunted when he felt a lump hug him and squeal his name.

"Harry! You're awake!" she grinned, hugging him with much affection.

Harry's eyes fluttered open and he took in the brilliant green orbs gazing at him, smiling a weak smile. Memories of what had happened recently, came back to him in a rush and he instantly hugged his sister.

"Are you alright," he croaked, "did he touch you?" Erynn smiled a teary smile as her heart swelled with pride for her brother, who had been basically mauled by an elephant yet cared about her before himself.

"You were the one hurt," she teased. Harry smiled. She whispered, "I'm fine... although..." and she was about to explain what had happened to Harry's bruises, but decided not to spoil the moment and felt it better to do something else.

"Although what?"

"Harry... I love you," she said, and Harry smiled, taking her in his arms and holding her as they hit the bed again.

"I love you too..." he whispered, as he looked at the watch his sister was holding that read 12:01. Seven, he thought, it feels so much better, but why?, he questioned. He kissed his sister tenderly on her head, and whispered "Happy Birthday" which she kindly returned, and they snuggled up to each other, happier yet sadder, wiser, yet all the more confused at what was happening to them and they fell asleep, and dreamt and hoped of a day when they'd get to enjoy life to its fullest.

Seven. Harry and Erynn were seven and yet it felt so different from six. They felt like they could face anything, knowing that they loved each other, not having to guess what they felt and how each of them would always be there for one another. Thats all that would matter as more strange things happened, more beatings occurred, and as both of them became more skilled at everything they did. While life became harder, the love they felt for not just one another but for everyone no matter how cruel they were became even greater.

Little did they know, they would be changing an entire world.