CHAPTER 1

"Albus, you can't leave Harry here! These people are the worst kind of muggles," said an irritated witch from the shadows around number 4 Privet Drive.

"I have reason to believe they will be more understanding than you can possibly imagine," the only other person on the street replied with a twinkle in his eyes that made the witch scowl.

"What could possibly change those... those horrible people's minds? Are you sure leaving him here isn't a mistake? You know very well that any number of other people would be happy to take him in!"

"Never fear Minerva," Dumbledore placated, "Everything is explained in this letter." He searched his robe pockets for a few moments before pulling out a small letter with a red wax seal. "Unpleasant people or not, these muggles are his family, and I'm sure that they will come to love him. You must trust me when I say that it will be best for young Harry to grow up here, away from the prying eyes of the wizarding world."

The sound of a motorcycle roared through the dark street as a single headlight grew brighter as it descended towards them.

"Oh Albus, surely you could have found someone a little more... qualified to deliver him?" Minerva said, aghast. "The sound alone!"
"I have taken the necessary precautions," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. "I trust Hagrid absolutely and can think of nobody else I would rather have involved in this. You understand that Harry's being here must be kept strictly secret, of course?"

Minerva looked affronted. "Of course!" she snapped, "I only meant that-"

"Ah, Hagrid," Dumbledore cut Minerva off, "How is Harry?"

Minerva sniffed in annoyance before turning her attention to the small bundle in the half-giant's arms. The baby appeared to be sleeping, thank goodness. She took the boy and fussed over him to make sure he was okay. He shifted and made small snuffles as he got used to the new pair of arms around him before his breathing evened out again.

"Albus," she interrupted, "Is this where..." She trailed off. Dumbledore looked over to see her studying the jagged cut on the sleeping boy's forehead.

"I see you've noticed Voldemort's mark," he replied calmly, tracing a finger lightly over it. Hagrid shuddered at the mention of the dark wizard's name.

"Will 'e be okay?" he asked with concern.

"I suspect he will carry the scar with him for the rest of his life," Dumbledore responded gravely, "but scars can come in handy, you know." Minerva narrowed her eyes.

"Has Poppy given him a check-up since the attack?" she asked sharply.

"Now Minerva," replied Dumbledore, "with all of the excitement tonight I'm sure Poppy has better places to be than with a small boy who is sleeping peacefully. No, young Harry will perfectly fine."

With that, Dumbledore placed the letter on Harry's chest and stuck it there with a tap of his wand.

"Now, I think we had better be leaving," he said firmly, removing the child from Minerva's arms. Hagrid sniffed loudly as tears dripped down into his beard.

"G'bye 'arry," he hiccupped, before placing a wet kiss on the boy's forehead. Minerva discretely cast a drying spell as Dumbledore placed the boy on the doorstep, then led the now sobbing Hagrid back to his motorcycle.

She turned around as Hagrid flew away to see Dumbledore setting the wards. She nodded in approval and disapparated with a loud crack. Dumbledore felt the wards come to life. He smiled as he removed all traces that anyone had been there and left, secure in the knowledge that Harry Potter would be safe.

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Petunia Dursley woke up to see the sun shining through the lacey window covering, firmly closed so as to not allow any prying eyes to see inside. She got up and got dressed while Vernon remained snoring in the bed. Even though she wasn't expecting any company, she still made sure her hair and makeup were impeccable. Appearances were everything, and after all of the strange rumours going around yesterday she was particularly meticulous, happy that she had her life under such fine control.

Dudley began fussing, and she quickly turned the baby monitor off to leave Vernon in peace as she went to fetch him. Petunia went about her perfectly normal morning, sitting Dudley in his baby seat and making breakfast while Dudley mashed his fists into the bowl of applesauce in front of him. She could hear Vernon moving upstairs as she put the eggs on the stove and the bread in the toaster, so she quickly went to the front door to fetch the paper before Vernon reached the table.

She opened the door and froze when she saw a baby where the paper should be. She quickly yanked it inside, hoping that it was still early enough that none of the neighbours had seen. What sort of fool left a child at someone's door? Especially in this weather, which had seemed uncommonly cold and bleak recently. Vernon was already coming down the stairs before the baby shifted and exposed a letter stuck to his front. One of their letters. Suddenly the whole situation made a horrifying kind of sense – who else would demonstrate such abnormal child-abandoning behaviour? Any decent sort would at least take their brat to an orphanage.

Vernon was blearily walking down the stairs, looking forward to a steaming cup of black coffee when he saw his wife standing in the doorway, eyes bugging out and looking down at something hidden by the banister.

"What's the matter, Pet," he grumbled as he walked towards her, "do I need to buy more of that cockroach spray you keep going on..." The baby suddenly came into view. Vernon stopped abruptly. "What is a BABY doing in my front hall?" he bellowed, face turning red as he looked at Petunia in suspicion.

"I... I have no idea," she stuttered as she gingerly plucked the letter off the baby's chest, fighting the urge to sanitize her hands in protection from whatever freakishness the letter contained. Vernon grabbed the letter out of her trembling hands and ripped it open. His face turned an ugly shade of puce and his moustache began to tremble furiously as his beady eyes tracked back and forth over the page.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" he asked his wife, a dangerous glint in his eyes, as he handed her the rumpled letter to read. As she read, what little colour had been left in her face vanished. Her sister was dead, killed by the dark wizard Lily had warned her about when their war started. That was the last time they had spoken. Now, her young son had been sent here by the same man who had offered Lily and her husband protection – and evidently failed in providing.

When she reached the last paragraph she gasped and dropped the letter as if she had been burned.

"What exactly does that Dumbledore mean by when both of your boys enter Hogwarts at age 11," Vernon growled. Petunia was spared answering when the smoke alarm went off. She rushed back into the kitchen, Vernon close behind her, to find the eggs burning on the stove and Dudley wailing in his highchair.

"Oh Dudders!" she simpered as she pulled the boy out of his chair, "Mummy is so sorry that she got distracted by that nasty letter. Let's get you into the tub and then you can have a special treat." She left a furious Vernon standing on a chair trying to fan the smoke away from the fire alarm and Harry in the front hall as she fled to the bathroom.

That day, Vernon called into work sick. The truth that there was a family emergency would cause too many questions – questions that he didn't have the answer to himself. With Dudley down for a nap in his room and Harry asleep in the play pen in the corner of the living room, the Dursley's sat down for a long talk.

Vernon knew about the wizarding world, but since it was taboo to talk about anything out of the ordinary in the house, there were large gaps in his knowledge. He had met James and Lily only once, and had taken an instant dislike to James, as had Petunia. He tried to keep his anger at bay as Petunia explained how the wizarding world had torn her and Lily apart as children. He got up and paced heavily as she told him about the war her sister had been a part of, and Dumbledore's role in it. When she was finished her story, Vernon stood facing away from her in silence.

"Vernon..." she tried to get him to talk to her. "You know I didn't want this!"

Vernon turned around, and stared into her pinched face. He shuffled over to the couch she was perched on and collapsed with a huff.

"Do we have to keep the boy?" he asked her.

"I think we do," replied Petunia with a frown. "Dumbledore is a powerful wizard, so there's no way we'll be able to go against his wishes. However, from his letter he made it clear that he doesn't want Harry to grow up in the wizarding world, so I find it unlikely that he will come check up on him."

At this the thunderous expression on Vernon's face brightened considerably.

"So, we won't have to have any of their... freakishness in our house?"

"You remember what I said about my sister," Petunia cautioned. "When we were younger, strange things happened around her." She shuddered as the memories of the things Lily and that awful friend of hers could do even at a young age.

"You said your mother was happy to have a witch in the family," mused Vernon. "Perhaps, with the proper... encouragement, we could stamp this wizarding nonsense out of the boy." He looked practically gleeful at the prospect. Making that James Potter's son turn out normal would be very satisfying. Petunia sat and contemplated Vernon's idea.

"I'm not sure it would work out that way. In the letter, Dumbledore seemed to think that our precious Dudley would be attending that horrible school of his! There is no way any son of mine will be influenced by those people."

Vernon seemed stumped for a moment. Then he earnestly took Petunia's hand and assured her, "We will raise a fine boy. With the proper parenting, there's no way he'll let himself get caught up in his cousin's freakishness. Besides," he continued with a scowl, "that Dumbledore person was wrong about keeping your sister safe. I'm sure this is just a scare tactic to make sure we don't get rid of the boy." Vernon looked very pleased with himself at figuring that out.

Petunia was optimistic for the first time since the letter and the boy had arrived. Perhaps Vernon was right and she was worried for nothing. Besides, it would look very good for their image to take in a poor orphaned boy. She glanced over to the baby who was asleep again in the playpen. Yes, they would take the blasted boy. But there would be no freakishness tolerated in this house! The Dursleys and Harry Potter would be living very normal lives if Petunia had anything to say about it.