Prologue

November 3, 1981

Vernon Dursley parked around the corner and swiftly approached the building, basket in hand. It was late at night, or rather early morning, and there weren't many people out in this part of London. He had done his research. Located in one of the nicer neighborhoods, McAllister's Orphanage was praised for its superior childcare and was a frequent recipient of large-scale donations and fundraisers. The boy would do well here. Petunia may have claimed not to care what happened to her nephew, but the fact remained that he was her sister's son. Even if his family was unable to care for the boy, Vernon could still do right by him. The boy deserved a good foundation, a place to grow up away from all that nonsense that his parents were involved in. He would be safe at McAllister's and well cared for. Yes, Vernon told himself, the boy will do well here.

Vernon softly deposited the basket on the doorstep, giving the sleeping child inside one last long look. "Good luck," he whispered softly. He rang the bell, and quickly disappeared around the corner. By the time the door was opened he was out of sight, and for the second night in a row Harry Potter was left alone on a doorstep, waiting to be discovered.

Marianne was jolted awake by the doorbell. She glanced over at her alarm clock. 1:37 am. She frowned, before sighing and getting up out of bed. She quickly donned her slippers and dressing gown before heading down the stairs. "Whoever it is better have a good reason for showing up at this hour…" She grumbled to herself, rubbing the lingering sleep from her eyes.

Marianne opened the door to find- no one. She looked around and then down, and gasped. There, bundled up in a basket, was a baby. He couldn't be much more than a year old, from what she could see of him. And with a nasty jagged cut on his forehead that looked to be quite recent. Marianne quickly gathered the child and brought him indoors. She shook her head disdainfully. Leaving a baby on a doorstep in early November. Some people had no sense at all! She set the basket on the kitchen counter, looking down at the sleeping boy with a frown. Then she noticed a piece of paper tucked tight into the corner of the basket. Carefully, as not to wake the child, Marianne extracted the paper and unfolded it. There, scrawled by a hasty hand, were three simple lines.

Harry James Potter

Born July 31, 1980

No living family

Marianne gave a sorrowful sigh and looked down at the boy- Harry, she told herself- with a new brand of sadness. Fifteen months old and alone in the world. Well, not for long. "Looks like you'll be staying with us, little guy," She whispered with a soft smile. She shook her head. "Well, come on. Let's get you upstairs. There's a spare crib you can use tonight, and I'll call child services in the morning." She carried a still sleeping Harry upstairs, setting him down only to expertly set up a crib in the nursery. She laid him down and whispered, "Goodnight, Harry James," before returning to her own room. As she crawled into bed she glanced at her alarm clock once more. 1:54 am. Well, she thought as she drifted back to sleep, a lot could change in seventeen minutes.

Down the hall, Harry Potter slept peacefully, unaware of just how much had changed that morning, and the drastic effect if would have on the future of an entire world.

November 16, 1981

Arabella Figg walked up Wisteria Walk, muttering to herself about enigmatic headmasters and obscure tasks. It had been three days since she had moved to Little Whinging at the request of one Albus Dumbledore and, quite frankly, she still didn't understand why she was here. She thought back to that day, less than two weeks ago, when Dumbledore had summoned her to meet with him and requested an unusual favor.

As she made her way through the halls of Hogwarts, Arabella looked around, absorbing every detail. The castle never ceased to amaze her, and though she still felt the faint sting of longing for the life that had been stolen from her, she had long ago made peace with her status as a squib, and was able to appreciate the castle for all its wonders. She finally arrived at the entrance to the headmaster's office, smiling to herself as the gargoyle jumped aside. Arabella ambled up the stairs, idly wondering what Dumbledore could possibly need her for.

The meeting began quite normally, with lemon drops and polite conversation. Dumbledore inquired about her cats, and Arabella told him a few anecdotes about the mischievous Mr. Paws and how shy little Tufty was finally coming out of his shell. Eventually, their conversation took a natural turn to the end of the war and little Harry Potter.

"Incredible!" She exclaimed. "To think, the darkest wizard of our time, defeated by an infant."

"Ah, yes. Young Harry. Which brings us to the reason I asked you here today." Dumbledore suddenly became much more solemn. "As you may have guessed, this is not strictly a social call. I have a very serious task for you, one I dearly hope you will accept." He spoke carefully, peering at Arabella over his half moon spectacles.

Arabella started. "But Dumbledore… The war is over. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone. Surely it can't be that serious…" She trailed off at Dumbledore's unchanged expression.

"What I am about to tell you is highly confidential." He began. "Were you aware that Lily Potter had a muggle sister?" Arabella shook her head slowly, unsure where this was going.

Dumbledore nodded to himself. "That is unsurprising. Her existence is neither a secret, nor a widely known fact." He paused, then, "Mrs. Petunia Dursley resides with her family in a part of Surrey known as Little Whinging. It is a muggle community, of course, which is why I have selected you for this task."

"I don't understand," Arabella began.

"I need you to go to Little Whinging." He spoke slowly. "I have placed an… Important asset," Dumbledore gave her a meaningful look, "in Mrs. Dursley's care. While I have very strong wards up protecting her family and this… asset… I will need someone I can trust there to monitor them." Dumbledore eyed her probingly and Arabella nodded carefully in acknowledgement.

"This will be a long-term mission." He spoke candidly, for once. "Mrs. Dursley is the last living relative of Harry Potter. I do not for one moment believe that Voldemort," Arabella flinched, "is gone for good. When he returns, there is no doubt that he will go after young Harry and anyone close to him, and muggles will make an easy target."

"Alright. So you want me to… Move to Little Whinging? And watch over the Dursleys and this mysterious asset?" Dumbledore nodded. Arabella let out a huff. "But Dumbledore, surely I am not the best fit for this job. I am a squib, as you are well aware. I can hardly protect them if something does happen!"

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "Your status as a squib is what makes you the perfect person for this job. I need someone who can blend in with the muggles. In the event that Voldemort," Arabella shuddered, "does return, I will, of course, increase security." He assured her. "What I need right now is for you to watch over the family, make sure they are well, and let me know at once if you notice anything strange or unusual. Is that something you can do?"

Arabella took her time replying. This was not a decision to be made lightly. Although a period of peace had just begun, there was no doubt that danger still lurked. Why, just look at what had happened to poor Frank and Alice. She shuddered. No, this definitely was not a decision to make lightly. Particularly since she had a strong suspicion what this so-called asset was that Dumbledore had hidden with Harry Potter's family. Honestly, an asset! If Arabella did this, she would need to uproot her life and move to a whole different area as well. And her poor cats… Would they be in danger? She shook her head. Of course not. You-Know-Who had far more urgent targets than a squib's cats. And that's if he's even still out there. Arabella sighed. This was her chance though. As a squib, there wasn't much she had to offer to the wizarding world, her parents' world. She had always longed for a chance, one chance, to do something meaningful and impact the magical world. With this task, she could finally be a part of the community she grew up in, and fight back (albeit passively) against the man who had done his best to tear it apart.

That alone made her decision. "I'll do it," she gave a determined nod. "I'll move to Little Whinging and watch over the Dursleys."

A hint of tension that she hadn't realized was there abruptly left Dumbledore's figure. "Excellent!" He gave a bright smile to cover his relief. "Now, I believe there is a house available on Wisteria Walk, not far at all from the Dursley residence."

"I will need a week or two to get everything in order," Arabella began, "my cats are not very fond of travel."

"Of course, my dear. Take your time. I just ask that upon arriving, you introduce yourself to your new neighbors and write to let me know that all is well." Arabella nodded. She could do that.

"After that," Dumbledore continued, "You need not write unless you notice anything suspicious or concerning. I will check in with you for an update every once in a while." He paused, "Arabella, discretion is of the utmost importance. The Dursleys are not to know that you are a part of the magical community. I urge you to avoid using names or specifics in our letters. Owl post is not infallible, and it will be much safer to write about 'the neighbors' versus using specifics names."

Arabella nodded. "Of course. I will keep an eye on my new neighbors and write to you if I notice anything odd. You will occasionally write to check up on me and I will reply with any neighborhood news." She summarized.

Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent, my dear. I am forever in your debt."

Arabella huffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Dumbledore. We all do our part. Now if that is all, it seems I must prepare for a move."

"Of course, I shall hear from you soon."

Arabella nodded and took her leave.

At the time, Arabella thought she knew what this mysterious asset of Dumbledore's was, but she had clearly been mistaken. She had just finished tea with an extremely ordinary Petunia Dursley, and aside from an unnatural cleanliness, her home and family were exceptionally unremarkable. Arabella had been certain Dumbledore's hidden asset was Harry Potter himself. But she must have misunderstood his hints and let her imagination get carried away. There was no indication of a little wizard boy in the house, and Petunia made no mention of her nephew. Perhaps Dumbledore had entrusted Petunia with an artifact or book of some sort. One he needed kept away from witches and wizards, for one reason or another. That had to be it; there was no other explanation.

And honestly, now that she thought about it, it really was quite ridiculous to think that Harry Potter would be here. The savior of the wizarding world raised by muggles? Preposterous. Harry Potter had undoubtedly been whisked away under the protection of a powerful wizard family until the time at which he would enter Hogwarts.

Arabella sighed once more as she entered her new home. Scooping Mr. Tibbles up off the floor, she sat down to compose her first letter to Dumbledore, informing him that all was well in Little Whinging.