That. Sounds. So. Awesome. Please. Continue. Or. I. Will. Hire. Mob. With. Torches. And. Axes. And. Pitchforks. *nod* 

This is really good so far, and it sounds like the sort of thing that will turn out to be AMAZING.

((You lot are too kind! The bit I posted isn't actually the beginning; just one of the first bits I decided to write. I'm going to start posting in chronological order soon, but here's a bit more to tide you over while I finish the first chapter.))

"So, little brother," says Fred, leering evilly at Ron, "what brings you here?"

"Please let me in," Ron begs. "I have something really really important to tell you. Please."

"Are you going to pay us?"

"You can have my sandwiches."

"What, are they corned beef?"

"Yes."

"You know we hate it as much as you do." He looks back over his shoulder. "Lee? You like corned beef?"

"Yeah, I like it all right."

Fred turns back to Ron. "Fine, little brother. You may enter the Train Compartment of Terror."

Ron walks in. His brothers' best friend, Lee Jordan, waves at him cheerily, and Ron throws his sandwiches at him without so much as a glance.

"So, little brother," says George, "what's on your tiny little mind?"

"I saw someone," says Ron hesitantly.

"Is she beautiful?"

"No! Shut up! This is serious! He's not a she! And he's really ugly! I thought you'd want to know!" Ron is near tears.

"That he's ugly? First of all, Ronnie-kins, you've got no room..."

"His name is Harry," Ron interrupts.

"Your point was...?"

"He has a scar on his forehead. A lightning bolt."

The twins rise simultaneously. Their faces are grim.

Lee begins to stand up, but George shakes his head at him. "Lee, this is a family thing. We don't want you around."

"Okay, that's fair, but what - "

"This... person is the son of the man who killed our father."

Hm... I wonder who Harry's father is. The only black-haired person I can possibly imagine Lily marrying is Snape, but why would he have killed Mr. Weasley...? This is really interesting; I can't wait to find out.  I think I'll really like this.

Detc says bark! Did Snape bark a charm onto some bark so that it would hit Mr. Weasley somehow?

*dramatic gasp* This sounds amazing. Pleasepleaseplease post the rest of the chapter soon! :)

This is AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are you entering NANO???

IT.IS.UTTERLY.AMAZING!!

But, is it like Harry Potter...?

((Thanks, guys!

@Vida: I did NaNo last year, and I'm going to do it this year, but not with this story; for one thing I've already started it, and for another I like to use such challenges for my original fiction, which is more important to me and also harder to write.

THE PROLOGUE! I wrote it while looking at the first chapter of PS, which probably shows; everything decent in here belongs to Jo.))

"For want of a nail, the shoe was lost;
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost;
For want of a horse, the rider was lost;
For want of a rider, the message was lost;
For want of the message, the battle was lost;
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."
- Traditional rhyme

"You are - truly your father's son, Harry..." 
- Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Prologue

November 1, 1981, soon after midnight
Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

The old man's face is haggard. He is one hundred years old, and looks it. His hair and beard are long and silver, and he has them tucked into his belt. He wears long purple robes, but they are covered with an unobtrusive black cloak. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his light blue eyes are bright and kind, but tonight they are clouded with grief and worry. His nose is long and crooked; it looks as though it has been broken at least once.

He gives a nod to the tabby cat that is sitting on a brick wall and watching his every move, and then retrieves something like a silver cigarette lighter from his pocket, which he clicks twelve times. Each time, the light from one of the street lamps is sucked into the device, leaving the street dark.

The moment all light is gone, the cat transforms into a severe-looking woman. She is wearing square glasses and a black cloak, and her hair is in a tight bun.

He nods in greeting. "Minerva."

"Albus." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Sirius said you would be here. He told me everything. Oh, Albus."

He sighs. "I know."

"It's all true, then?" She looks at him, eyes searching his face desperately, begging for it to not be true, longing for it to all be silly rumours, all nonsense. She wants him to tell her that Sirius was simply confused. That everything is fine. "He betrayed us? Lily is dead? And Arthur? And oh, is it true that Remus - " She breaks off. She is sobbing.

"All of it is true."

"But Harry's alive. How is Harry alive?" she demands.

"We don't know. As far as we can tell, when Voldemort tried to kill him, the curse rebounded."

"So... so You-Know-Who...?"

"Voldemort escaped. He is weakened, very weakened. But he escaped." Albus pulls out a pocketwatch. It has twelve hands, no numbers, and all manner of little planets and unusual symbols around the edge. He looks at it, and then he looks to the stars. "Sirius is late."

"You do realise that he is one of the more careless and irresponsible people you could conceivably have chosen for such a job?"

"We can trust Sirius. He will be careful with this."

There is a slight rumbling noise. It grows and grows, and then a motorbike lands on the road in front of them. Riding it is a handsome, dark-haired young man. He has clearly been crying very recently, but his face is resolute, and when he speaks his voice is steady. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Sirius." Albus sounds relieved. "Thank Merlin. Were there any problems?"

"Nah. The house was nearly destroyed, but I got him out. He's sleeping now." Sirius hands over a small bundle of blankets. Minerva takes it, holds it gently, tenderly. A baby boy is within, fast asleep. He has a very little black hair, and on his forehead is a cut shaped like a bolt of lightning.

There is a short, sharp, intake of breathe from Minerva. "Is that - "

"Yes. He'll have that scar for the rest of his life."

"I'll be going now," says Sirius abruptly. The bike turns, and he soars off into the sky.

Harry's eyes flutter open. His eyes are a startling emerald green. He begins to cry.

"It's all right, Harry," says Minerva soothingly. She kneels and places him on the doorstep of Number Four, Privet Drive. "Stop crying. It's all right. Everything is going to be all right." She looks up at Albus defensively. "Well? What am I supposed to tell him? That his mother is dead and his father is a murderer and a Death Eater and the worst kind of traitor and, thank you, Albus, Voldemort is trying to kill him, and - I haven't missed anything, have I?"

"I wasn't criticising you, you know." 

She sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm sorry." She strokes the baby's scarred forehead. "You'll be fine, little Harry. Little Harry - "

"Little Harry Evans."

She turns her head, startled. "What?" 

"His mother's maiden name." Albus sighs. "He doesn't deserve to be tied to his father that way. His mother was a good and kind woman. If he deserves anyone's name, it's hers."

"He's already tied to his father. The story will get out, Albus, and his scar will mark him for the rest of his life."

There is a sudden cold breeze. Minerva shivers, and Harry cries out.

"I feel awful about leaving him here with the Muggles. I don't have any problems with Muggles as a rule, but his aunt and uncle are the worst type of Muggles imaginable, and they've got this son..." She shakes her head. "I've been watching them all day. I know you think it's a safe place..."

"It is a safe place. It is the only safe place." Albus looks up at the stars. "We'd best be going, Minerva. Daylight comes all too quickly."

"I suppose you're right." She rises and joins him.

"Goodbye, Harry," she murmurs, tears in her eyes.

Albus walks up to Harry, and places an envelope in the bundle with him. He walks back to Minerva, and smiles sadly. "Farewell."

They disappear.