Year One - October

A child was left on Harry's doorstep one day. She was bald and had the same blue eyes that all infants have when they are born. When he had walked out of his flat one day, he tripped over something. He looked down to discover a basket, with a lost looking infant contently sucking on her fist. The note said, "I know you'll take care of her. She was born on October 9th."

"Who in the nine levels of Hell would give me a child?" Harry wondered aloud. The infant babbled.

Harry called Hermione.

"Who in the nine levels of Hell would give him a child?" Harry heard Ron say in the background. She hung up after saying she'd floo right over.

When she got there, she sat awkwardly at his kitchen's island table, and fussed over the baby. Harry paced.

"She's adorable Harry. But you're not going to keep her, are you?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Bloody hell, of course not!"

The infant screamed out in distress. Harry reached over and gathered her up in her blankets. He cradled her. She stopped crying instantly.

"I mean, I don't have time to find her parents right now, though. Could you?"

Hermione's hands went up in defense. "Sorry, Harry. It wasn't my doorstep she was left on. I know of a squib orphanage a little ways from Hogsmeade…"

"No! She's already been abandoned once."

Hermione sighed. "Well, then Harry. I don't know what to tell you. Ron's expecting me home soon. I should get going."

"Right. Thanks for coming," Harry said, as he saw her to the floo, the infant still in his hands.

November

Harry was quickly running out patience, having to transfigure glasses into bottles and dishrags into nappies. He soon realized he was going to have to do some shopping. But taking an infant with him out into the public was not something he was looking forward to. He called Mrs. Weasley, who happily shopped for him. She had even brought him Ginny's old baby clothes.

"Hermione said it's been over a week. Have you started looking for the poor child's parents?"

Harry hemmed and hawed. Mrs. Weasley just smiled. "She looks quite content with you, Harry. What is her name?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "She hasn't got one. I've just been calling her 'hey'." And Mrs. Weasley slapped him on the shoulder. "She's going to grow up confused, Harry. Think of one."

The next day, an owl delivered a book of baby names. He thumbed through the "A"s and picked the first name that caught his eye.

Alessa – form of Alessandra. Hebrew. Noble one.

"What do you think of Alessa?" he asked the infant, who slept in her basket. She didn't move. "Well, I like it."

Malfoy came knocking one morning, just as Harry had finished feeding Alessa. Bottle still in his hand, and burp rag on his shoulder, he flung the door open to reveal Malfoy with a broom in one hand, and quidditch gear in the other.

"Fancy a game?" he asked casually.

"Can't today."

"What the bloody hell do you have in your hand? Is that a nappy on your shoulder?" he asked, barging in the doorway. Alessa took one look at Malfoy and burst out into tears.

"Who's child is that? It's awfully rude…"

"Well, it was awfully rude of you to come banging in here. No wonder she's upset. It's okay, Alessa. I burst into tears when I saw his ugly mug the first time, too," Harry said, as he consoled her.

"Seriously, Potter. Did you knock some poor witch up?"

Harry rolled his eyes, and set Alessa in her cradle. "No. She was left, actually. On my doorstep."

"So why is she still here? There's such a thing as Wizarding Family Services, you know."

"That's just it. I don't know anything about her. I don't know if she's magical or not. We probably won't know for a couple of years." Harry said quietly.

"You're seriously thinking of keeping her? How long have you had her… you know what, never mind. I'm not going to get mixed up in this…this kidnapping ring you've started." Malfoy slammed the door behind him.

Harry had never heard of colic before. Needless to say, Alessa was having a rough week. Madam Pomfrey said that there wasn't much that Harry could do for her during her crying fits. Then he felt heartless when he told her that he'd cast a silencing charm on her pram one night.

Madam Pomfrey hit him hard upside the head and screamed about irresponsible behavior leading to developmental problems. This was exactly what Harry was afraid of. Doing something stupid and screwing this child up for life.

"One more sleepless night, and I'm going to have developmental problems. Can't I just give her some sleeping draught?" Harry asked.

"We don't know if she's magical yet, Harry. Sleeping draught would do her more harm than good, in any case. She's way too young for potions."

Harry pouted. "But I'm not."

"You have to hear her. Her colicky cries are different from her hunger cries…"

"You think I don't know that? I'm the one up with her half the night."

Madam Pomfrey handed her back to Harry, though reluctantly. "It'll get better. It doesn't last forever."

Harry doubted that.

December

"Father Christmas has been here, Alessa!" Harry said, to a gurgling 3-month-old. Ron and Hermione had come over the night before to shower her with gifts. Clothes, toys, and a 1-month supply of nappies were gladly received. Alessa now lie under her snitch and broom mobile. Harry snatched her up and sat her in his lap as he opened her gifts for her. "Nana Weasley always makes the best sweaters, you'd do well to remember that," he said as he held up a pair of knitted booties.

May

Alessa had managed to pull herself up to a standing position, with the aid of the couch by the beginning of summer. She had a full head of light brown hair, and her blue eyes just became bluer. Harry was quite fond of her now that she was nearly sleeping through the night.

She still couldn't form words though, and this had worried him. "Don't kids usually say Mummy or Daddy by now?" he'd asked Mrs. Weasley one day.

"Goodness no, Harry! Not for a few more months at least."

"Well, she babbles incoherently mostly. I thought that she'd be forming words by now," he said in his defense.

She said "Da!" while looking straight at him by the end of the week. Harry beamed with pride.

October Again

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Alessa! Happy birthday to you!"

Alessa screeched happily and clapped her hands, mocking the crowd around her. Before Harry had even taken the candle out of the cake, Alessa was making a crumbly mess of it. Frosting ended up in her hair, on the floor, and even on Harry's shirt. But he didn't mind one bit. Colin took lots of pictures.

"She took some steps yesterday, I video taped it. But she didn't stay up for very long," he told Hermione.

"Since when do you own a video camera?" Hermione asked. "What's a bideo camera?" Ron asked in passing.

"I bought it for myself as a birthday gift. It's strange, you know. I never thought I'd ever have children. Just because it would be my luck that I'd do something stupid and they'd have to grow up in some horrible place like I did. But I don't know. This past year has been…strange…to say the least. But I kind of like it - being a Dad."

"You're pretty good at it, mate," Ron said, pointing over the giggling little girl who was currently pulling on Malfoy's long white-blonde hair. "And you've taught her well. Get a few strands, Alessa! You could probably make a few galleons selling Malfoy hair on the black market!"

Malfoy stiffened and prepared a few choice undignified words, but Alessa's "Maffoo!" stopped him mid thought. His expression softened, "Did you hear that? She said my name!" Colin got a picture of that as well.

End Year One