Summary de la Story: Harry Potter is raised by Sassy Gay Friend. Not a sassy gay friend. THE Sassy Gay Friend.
Please view the Sassy Gay Friend videos made by Second City Network if you live under a rock in the hole at the bottom of the sea and have no idea what I am referring to. I also added characteristics of Harry Potter from my fic "Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend" to this SGF, which explains the sausage jokes.
Albus Dumbledore may have been "unwelcome" in the perfectly normal neighborhood of Privet Drive, but the handsome young man strolling up the now pitch-black lane after an evening in the local tavern would have been instantly reviled by all "right-thinking" homeowners living in the conservative neighborhood. However, this man just didn't give a damn. He had more important things to think about.
For starters, why was that flamboyantly-dressed old man leaving a cute little baby on somebody's doorstep? And where could he get high-heeled boots like that? Honestly, they were just to die for! And that hat? Wow! The man, hereafter known as Sassy Gay Friend (or SGF), had never before seen someone manage to pull off a hat that was larger than one's head. Truly, Wizard Whitebeard over there was a special unique snowflake of special unique specialness. But, the old man clearly needed to take a step back and reconsider. I mean, was he seriously going to leave what appeared to be his great, great, great, great, great, great, great….
(*an indeterminate amount of time later*)
great, great, great, great, great, great grandchild on someone's doorstep? Oh, wait, he just did! Now it looks like he, and two other figures are just gonna walk away. SGF could not let that happen. He hurried to the front yard of Number Four Privet Drive, not even caring that his sparkly orange scarf was coming askew. For once, there were more important things.
"We might as well join in the celebrations," the old man was saying to bespectacled woman wearing an emerald green cloak and a giant man wearing a moleskin vest. Seriously? Moleskin? SGF sincerely hoped that he could fit a fashion intervention into his child welfare investigation. He had to take several deep breaths to prevent himself from tearing the stupid, old-fashioned outfit off the giant man. No, not like that, perverts! SGF simply could not live in a world where people still dressed like they were in the stone age.
"I wouldn't even go to a costume party dressed like that," SGF declared from behind them. The three humorous-looking strangers whirled around in surprise. "What, what, WHAT are you doing?"
"Just going off to celebrate… something," said the old man, his right hand drifting over to a pocket in his cloak.
"What, celebrating not paying child support?" asked SGF puzzled. "What about this situation is something to celebrate? You're leaving a baby on the doorstep on the night the hunky meteorologist on Channel 69 predicted rain. Look at your life; look at your choices."
"It's a difficult decision, but it is the right thing to do," the old man insisted.
"Difficult for whom?" asked the Sassy Gay Friend. "For the baby? Somehow I doubt that the baby decided to have a slumber party in the Doorway to Drabland."
"No, for me," replied the odd senior citizen. "It was difficult for me to make this decision."
"Really, you actually had trouble with this one?" asked the flamboyant man, scratching his head. Geez, this guy was annoying. So irritating, in fact, that SGF didn't even think about what this was doing to his perfectly-styled hair. That's how desperate the situation was. "I would hate to see what you would do as a result of snap judgments and drunken decisions if this is the result of intensive thought."
"Ahem," the woman had cleared her throat. She, at least, seemed to realize that SGF had PWN'ed the old man. The two males just looked bemused. "It's all taken care of," she said, despite the fact that she had been arguing against Dumbledore's decision only a few minutes ago. That didn't matter. Despite her misgivings, she would defend Albus Dumbledore to the death. "The baby will be fine."
"Fine? Yeah, I'm sure he'll be fine, honey. That is if he survives hypothermia and you guys managed find someone sane who wants to take care of the kid. Which I seriously doubt, given your midnight doorstep delivery and the suspiciously dark street."
Minerva refrained once again from bringing up her misgivings about the Dursleys to this very strange stranger.
"They're the only family he has," the elderly gentleman said calmly, as if he argued about child custody arrangements with sassy gay men everyday of his life. Clearly, the seemingly mild-mannered man had a wild past.
"So, I ask you, if you're scraping the bottom of the foster parent barrel, what in the name of all that is vintage do you have to celebrate?" SGF asked.
"Peace," said the old man simply. "Tranquility that we have not known for years now. Countless children were born into a world which languishes under the threat of a Dark Lord. Now, for the first time in their young lives, they will know true peace and happiness."
"Seriously?" said the Sassy Gay Friend. "If this is another 'Michael Jackson is a Dead Pedophile Joke,' I will shove a smoked sausage so far up your…"
"Thar's no need ta be like that," said the unfashionably-dressed giant, speaking for the first time.
"Oh, yes there is, my friend," SGF snapped. "Who knows what kind of lunatics these people could turn out to be? Have you even met this family yet?"
"Well, not as such…" said the old man. "But we caught a few glimpses of them…" he wisely refrained from mentioning that these "glimpses" consisted of Minerva witnessing Dudley Dursley throwing a tantrum and Petunia Dursley discreetly picking her nose as the horse-faced woman spent the afternoon spying on the neighbors. "It hardly matters," he continued. "The blood wards will keep him safe."
"The blood wards? Tell me, mister: do you SEE any blood wards around this house?"
"Well, no," the ancient man replied, "but…"
"It certainly doesn't feel any different than any other house in the world. Where's the proof that these blood wards actually exist?"
"Well, nobody who intends to harm young Harry will be able to get into the house. That's pretty solid proof that something is working in our favor. Almost like magic, really…" replied the man with a strange twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Yet a person who is completely batshit insane can stumble onto the scene and do whatever the Hell he wants, and it's pretty likely we would have the same results as we would if we let a reasonably intelligent villain into these oh-so-safe quarters. And can I just remind you that you aren't leaving the baby in the house. You are leaving him on the doorstep."
SGF found the truth slowly dawning on him. These weren't just quirky characters making bad choice and in need of a sassy, gay intervention. These people were completely nuts. No MiO for them! They'd probably choke to death on the delicious water-flavored beverage or try to down all 24 servings at once and wind up wetting the bed. There was no helping some people, but SGF had never given up before. Even when he knew that nothing could be done, he couldn't sit back and do nothing. Hey, wait a minute!
Keeping his face impassive so as not to give away the fact that he thought of a brilliant idea to outsmart all of them (and holding his bag close to his chest to prevent the very strange strangers from somehow finding out that he was carrying all six fabulous flavors with him), SGF nodded and said, "I see your point. You clearly know what is best for the child. I'll just be on my way."
"Good evening to you," the old man said politely before he and his two companions turned around to walk away. Was it SGF's imagination, or did the giant man roar off on a flying motorcycle? He decided it wouldn't be such a big deal if he did. After all, the Sassy Gay Friend helped stranger people everyday. It only made sense that the people who were beyond help would possess even stranger quirks. Anyway, if the guy's nutty enough to go around (even in pitch-dark) wearing moleskin, he's probably crazy enough to think a flying motorcycle is a safe and comfortable mode of transportation. At this point, it wouldn't surprise SGF if they brought the baby here with the aid of an airborne motorbike.
So, he shrugged it off when he saw (or thought he saw) the stern-looking woman turn into a rather adorable feline.
SGF pretended to be making his way down the sidewalk. He smirked as he considered his brilliant plan. He would pretend to be walking away, but as soon as he was sure that the lunatics were gone, he would double back, grab the baby, and run. Nobody would ever be the wiser. Then, he could raise the child away from all this utter insanity, and the kid would grow up to simply lead a crazy life like everybody else.
However, his plan was foiled when the old man suddenly appeared right behind him. Seriously, wasn't the guy halfway down the street? That old man could really leg it! Whatever that guy sprinkles on his morning sausage must be working, even if it was screwing up his brain function.
"I'm terribly sorry to have to do this," said the old man politely while pulling out a slender, polished wooden stick that had to be about a foot long. Before SGF could offer up some witty innuendo, the old man had waved the stick and said "Obliviate!" and SGF was hit in the face with a blinding flash of light. SGF was dimly aware of a "Pop!" as the old man disappeared.
Where was he? What was he doing standing on an empty street in the middle of the night without a hot guy to take advantage of the darkness and privacy with? SGF wandered around in a daze before he noticed something strange about one of the houses on the unfamiliar street.
There was a baby on the doorstep, his sleeping body wrapped up in a light blue blanket. Honestly, what kind of people left a baby on a doorstep? That was so 18th century, and it was only popular then because they didn't have hunky meteorologists on channel 69 telling them when it was going to rain. Nowadays, there's just no excuse.
SGF noticed that the baby held a letter in one of his tiny hands. Curiously, he picked it up and opened the envelope. Huh. Apparently this Albus Dumbledore person really was 'round the bend. All that talk about Wizards and Lord Voldemort and a Dark Lord being vanquished without bothering to give proper credit to MiO. Instead, he claimed a baby named Harry Potter- this baby- was responsible for the Dark Lord's downfall. Really, did the kid happen to have fruit punch-flavored MiO in his bottle?
Well, it wasn't like he could talk things out with a one year-old. The baby probably thought that the situation was as crazy as SGF did. And there's no sense in waking the family who lived here. SGF could tell from the tone of the letter that "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley" wanted no part in this crazy situation. SGF could hardly blame them. Some things were best left up to mental health professionals, lest a layman inadvertently make things worse.
In a snap decision that would affect many people in unimaginable ways for the rest of their lives, SGF crumbled up the strange letter and tossed it over his shoulder. Then, he scooped up the still-sleeping baby and hurried down the street. He managed to hail a cab just when it started to sprinkle. Cradling the baby close to his chest, SGF gave the cab driver his address, and they drove off.
It was a dark and stormy night.