Title: Harold Porter and the Philosopher's Stone
Author: zalil
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Chapter 1 - The Boy Who Lived
In a warm and starlit night Albus Dumbledore was sitting on a large stone in the outer grounds of Hogwarts, gazing at the sky. Behind him another person came up, but he didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall."
He turned around to smile at the rather severe-looking woman that had approached and was now sitting down next to him.
"Good? I am not so sure about that. Although rumour has it that You-Know-Who has disappeared." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: "I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for."
"And the rumours that are flying around? You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
Dumbledore did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – dead."
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it.. Oh, Albus..."
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know.. I know..." he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's – it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed.. he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
Professor McGonagall pulled put a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"Yes, said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why he is bringing the boy here?"
"I've come to the decision that his aunt and uncle are unsuitable for him to grow up with. They are as mugglish and narrow-minded as people can be. However, it wouldn't do little Harry any good to grow up among strangers either. Therefore I think it would be best if he stayed at Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall looked at him, curious. "And you will be his guardian? I heard that .. his godfather.. Sirius..he was the one who betrayed the Potters?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It seems so. But no, I will not be his guardian, I think I found someone else fitting that position. He will stay with Severus."
"You don't mean – you don't mean – Severus?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at the school. "Dumbledore, you can't. You couldn't find a person less capable of raising a child! He is – he is the coldest and most sarcastic person I know! Harry Potter come and live with him!"
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "We are here too and Severus will be able to explain everything to him when he's older."
"Severus," repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the stone. "Really, Dumbledore, you think Severus will consent to this... arrangement? Why him? Every wizarding family would put Harry up! He will be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in future – there will be books written about Harry – every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly, said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he can't even remember! Can't you see how better off he'll be, growing up where we can keep him away from all that until he is ready to know, where we are to explain everything to him?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, "Well – well, I can see your point but the fact stays that I don't trust Severus with a little child. I shall look after Harry as often as I can." Suddenly another thought occurred to her. "But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suspiciously as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
A rumbling sound drowned Dumbledore's answer and swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the grass in front of them.
If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," Dumbledore greeted him, sounding relieved. "At last. Where did you get that motorbike?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. "Found it on the street, I'm going to take it back later. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir, house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where - ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above the left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well, we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and stood up. "Hagrid, go and spread the happy news that Harry is alive, but whoever asks, tell them the boy lives with his relatives."
Hagrid nodded and returned to the motorbike. The loud rumbling started again and as quickly as Hagrid had come, he disappeared again.
Quietly, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walked up to the castle.
When they had arrived in the dungeons, Dumbledore sighed and knocked at the door of Severus Snape's quarters. A strict-looking man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and pale skin opened the door, looked at Dumbledore, McGonagall, the bundle of blankets, Dumbledore again, and slammed the door shut again.
Dumbledore smiled happily. "Well, considering the circumstances it was a rather good reaction, don't you think?" And he knocked again.
A few hours later Harry Potter was contentedly sleeping in a wooden cradle in Snape's living room, Dumbledore and McGonagall were drawing up a list of items for baby care and Severus Snape was sitting on the floor of his working room, silently weeping and cursing himself for not having stayed with the Dark Lord when he had the opportunity to do so. He would never have punished him with a child.
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