Junior Hallows

Chapter 1

A/N: I am back in action, readers. New readers welcome, old ones welcome back. Hope you like this story.

He stared at the woman's back as she stalked away from his door, her voice echoing in his ears.

"Lily always said that if it was m-magic related and she wasn't around, you would deal with it." The word 'magic' was almost spat out like a curse and there was a pause as she pushed something at him. "Deal with it. It's Lily's and she and her freak of a husband are dead. I'm not letting it in my house, it might infect my beautiful Dudley." That was the total of the woman's communication with him.

The man looked at the bundle she'd thrust into his arms... it was a child, a baby, he couldn't be much more than a year old, certainly not a year and a half. Lily's child, that's what she said.

Lily?

Who the bloody hell was Lily?

Was this the delivery the ghost was talking about?

He quietly closed the door, turning and walking to the living room.

"Ghost! You have some explaining to do. Get in here." The man snarled.

A hazy, insubstantial form emerged from the wall between the living room and the kitchen, it floated nearly two foot above the floor. The man looked at the ghost assessing it's appearance.

A teenage boy, scrawny and slim, too slim, way too slim to have been healthy. Masses of dark hair that went in all directions, small round glasses perched on his nose. But none of this detracted away from the dirt and blood that covered him, eyes filled with horror and pain.

"Who is Lily? Why in hell would some strange woman give me a child? Doesn't she see what I am?" The man asked in a dumbfounded tone. He opened the door with a gun in one hand and a dagger in the other, wasn't it obvious what he was dangerous?

The ghost smirked and shook it's head.

"She doesn't?"

The ghost smirked again.

"Are you going to answer my questions, now?"

The ghost shook his head again.

"What? Why not?" He growled.

The ghost held up his hand to his mouth and used the other to gesture with, he mouthed a word as he pointed from the man to himself.

"Oh... right." The man sighed. "Finite silencio." There was no wand to be seen.

"I tried to warn you." The ghost's voice was tired and quiet.

"Just tell me."

"That's me."

"Who?" The man asked.

"The baby. That's me, sixteen years ago." The ghost murmured.

"You! How in the seven hells can you be this baby? You're already dead!"

"You know that time means nothing to ghosts, uncle."

"Uncle? What in the hell...?"

"Read the note, Dumbledore left a note."

The man looked down at the sleeping child and saw the edges of a letter poking out of the blanket. Using one hand he retrieved the letter and laid it on the coffee table before gently placing the blanket-wrapped infant on his sofa, against one arm. With barely a blink the man caused the letter to rise and open itself. He read the short missive quickly.

"Well, that's not a lot of help. I don't know any Lily or James Potter or any Petunia or Vernon Dursley."

"Yeah, you do." The ghost assured him.