Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and am not making a profit though the writing of this.
A/N: An idea for a crossover that I never fleshed out, but I think this can stand on its own as is.
"Albus, are you sure there is no other family the boy can be left with?" Minerva had transformed from a cat and now stood, imploring the bearded wizard before her. "I have watched the Dursleys for the past hour," she choked up, "Albus, they are the worst sort of Muggles I have ever had the displeasure of observing. Tell me there is some other option for the Potters' son."
Sighing heavily, Albus pulled at his beard. He had hoped that it would be as simple as leaving Harry with the Dursleys. Petunia was Lily's sister after all and should be more than willing to take her nephew in and love him as her own. It was what Lily and James would have done had Petunia and her husband met an untimely death.
"There is one other option," Albus' normally twinkling eyes had a faraway look to them, "and, truth be told, I had hoped it would not come to this. Lily has distant cousins in the United States of America who might be willing to take young Harry in; they too have a son around Harry's age."
"And are they Muggles?" Minerva enquired. Her brow furrowed in disapproval as Albus nodded. "How do we know they are any better than the Dursleys?"
"Minerva," Albus smiled sadly, "you will have to trust me on this. It will be best for Harry to stay with a non-magical family. He should not grow up with the pressurs that accompanies his fame in the wizarding world. I do believe that the Connors will be a loving, though possibly quite unconventional, family, for Harry."
"Hmmph," Minerva narrowed her eyes and nodded once.
Truth be told, Harry might be better off living with a family of ogres than with the family she had spent the past few hours watching. Surely the Connors, though they were Muggles and Americans at that, would be better for the young, trusting child who'd just lost his mother and father to a mad wizard hell-bent on killing him. She just hoped that they would treat him right, like one of their own.
Nearly ten years later, three young Slytherin boys sat across from Albus, each sporting a rather solemn, if not completely contrite, look on their faces. Two of the boys had dark, wild hair, the third, red.
"Professor Dumbledore, I thought it best if you dealt with these young dunderheads yourself." Severus Snape ran a hand through his unkempt hair, sighing heavily.
It was nearing two in the morning and Severus Snape was at his wit's end with the three young boys who seemed bound and determined to be the ruin of him. He lamented the day that Ronald Weasley, DJ and Harry Potter-Connor were sorted into his house. Sure, it had been a coup to receive, not only a Potter, but also a Weasley, the first one on record, into the grand house, but it had come at a heavy price for the Potions Master. The three boys were incorrigible and thick as thieves, and going to be the death of him.
