She stalks the night streets, a blend of fur and emerald green against the suburban backdrop of England. He does not yet know of her presence, but hesitates to believe that he does not expect it. Dumbledore is a man of many abilities, and perception was one that did not elude him.
"I should have known that you would be here, Professor McGonagall." There is a twinkle in his eye that makes the animagus belligerent enough to shift into her true form. She pushes her shoulders back and matches the stride of her fellow wizard.
"Good evening," she dips her head. "Are the rumors true, Albus?" She knows the boy is not with him, but she cannot help her eyes from checking his person. Once. Twice.
"I'm afraid so, Professor. The good," he pauses, and turns to the night sky. It is a clear evening, the stars are out to shine above them, and Minvera McGonagall still cannot yet help but to feel betrayed by their display of mirth. "And the bad."
"And the boy?" Where had Albus kept him? If the rumors were true, than he should have been with him – with them! For although the master was dead, his followers were still about and she did not want to risk anything at all with their whereabouts still unknown.
"Hagrid is bringing him." They stop just shy of an intersection, the words, 'Privet Drive,' unpresumptuous scrawled on a sign behind them. Minerva did not have anything against muggles, they were mostly either plain or arrogant people. Not so different from the wizards and witches that lurked in her own community, but she wonders how such unassuming creatures could breed such despicable beings at times. Even wizards, for all their magicality, only grew to be deplorable with intelligence. These muggles that Albus had chosen for the boy, well – Minvera shook her head. They were neither intelligent or special enough to be so selfishly arrogant.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid swoops in. Loudly, Minvera notes in disdain. No matter the amount of charms they had placed around them, she cannot help but internally chastise the unnesccary noise the groundskeeper is creating. "Professor McGonagall."
"No problems, I trust, Hagrid?" Dumbledore smiles, privy to the irk which Hagrid's motorcycle had elicited from his female companion. Minvera frowns.
"No, sir. Little tyke fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol," Hagrid chuckles as he produces a swaddle of blankets from behind him. "Try not to wake him up. There you go." He hands over the boy to Albus's waiting arms, and Minvera instinctively looms over his shoulder to grab sight of him. Harry is a tiny baby, a little on the heavier side, with pale skin and dark hair. If he had been awake, Minvera was sure he would have the same eyes as his father. Mischievous and plotting. Trouble, which his new family would doubtlessly condemn.
"Albus, do you really think it's safe, leaving him with these people? I've been watching them all day," she shuffles her hands into the warmth of her sleeves. "They're the worst sort of muggles imaginable. They really are - "
"The only family he has." Dumbledore halts the conversation as they stop outside a house.
He is unaware of the depth of McGonagall's feelings about this matter. They would smite the magic and joy out of this boy, and she knows Lily and James deserved better than that. "This boy will be famous," she tries one more time. "There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name."
"Exactly." There is a finality in his tone, one that Minvera knows to acknowledge. "He's better off growing up away from all that." She knows to acknowledge his decision – Albus always knows best, however, one glance at the sleeping child tells her sometimes his best is not what is best for everyone. For Harry.
"Until he is ready." Albus's voice is a droning whisper as the traitorous thoughts drown out everything in Minvera's head. She only knows the boy, and her fair Lily and troublemaking James. Hagrid sniffs.
"There, there Hagrid – " Dumbledore comforts.
"Ma – may I hold, him, Albus?" Minvera chokes out the words. "Just once."
Albus knows all, or assumes to know all, and believes blindly enough that Minerva's sentimentality is just that. Sentiments. He hands the swaddle over to her, and just as both blanket and boy are secured in her arms, there is a loud, resonating - snap! – and both she and blanket and boy are gone.
Hagrid's tears are reduced to silent shock. "S – sir!" He finally manages to catch up with reality, and he fixes a shocked wide-eyed gaze at the headmaster.
Dumbledore is a man of many abilities, and perception was one that did not elude him. His eyes twinkle like the stars above and he turns to his only remaining companion, an ever-complacent smile on his face. "Do drive soundly, Hagrid?" He nods his head at him before disappearing with a loud snap himself.
"Sir?"
When Minvera settles the boy into a conjured, makeshift crib, she stalls in the doorway assessing the levity of her actions. For one, Albus would not be charmed with them. But on another note, he had not chased her back to her home yet – so perhaps he was not happy but not too angry about the recent course of events.
Of course, she checks herself – she could also be wrong. And perhaps she was, since approaching her humble abode is the headmaster himself. She sighs and departs the temporary nursery to greet him.
"Albus," she opens the door and with a wave of her hand, the teapot in her kitchen begins to boil some water. "It would be a slander against Lilly and James to leave him with such –"
Albus is tall, he towers over her and all her furniture, yet he does not leer over anything. Simply put, he fixes himself into a wooden chair by her hearth, quelling the night's chill on his hands. "I will not pretend to be fine with your decision, Minerva - you have not only painted a target on your back, but also on young Harry's as well."
"He's always been a target, Albus," Minerva quietly settles herself on the opposing side of the fireplace. She knows of the repercussions, but they do not bother her - not as much as leaving Harry to his only family would have.
"I cannot protect you," he sighs. "But I can hide you."
A fine set of china whisks into the space between them as the prepped tea is poured into their respective cups. Minerva allows two teaspoons of sugar to be poured into her cup before she sentences both her and Harry's lives to the unknown. "We will not hide, Albus. Harry will grow under the name he was born into, in his rightful wizarding community, without protection, and without false identities."
A/N: What if, you know? I've only briefly edited this by the way, and I'm not as used to using present tense as I am past - so I apologize for any errors in this chapter. When I have time, I will hopefully be able to fix everything.
Hope you all liked it!