A/N: This is the first chapter in an epic Ol' Bob and I wrote. Unlike most of our stories there will be more than one chapter. Like most of our stories, you probably won't like it, so really there's no big surprise.
CHAPTER I—Irrelevant Backstory
The winds blew softly, tickling the long, flowing beard of an old man shuffling down the street. He was a calm looking fellow, with half-moon spectacles, a large pointy hat and the air of a man who knew things, and then subsequently forgot things. In his hand was a strange-looking device, sleek, tubular, a rounded top and two spherical attachments located at the bottom. All in all, it looked utterly useless. The elderly fellow pointed the device towards a harmless streetlamp, then the man stroked the object in a unique fashion. A peculiar thing then occurred. The light of the lamp shuddered then blinked out like someone had just stepped on its heart. The gentleman then faced the next lamp and repeated the process, something rather difficult for some men, but the strange man showed no signs of stopping.
Once all the streetlamps were thoroughly extinguished, the old man waited in the dark in front of Number 123 Royale Court, in Little Northhamptshireton Village, Surrey. The man waited for a time, forgot why he had come, and began ambling northwest, his gaze following the brightest star. It was then he realized that it was not a star, but in fact a flying motorcycle (a mistake made by the man not uncommon amongst seasoned astronomers). As the flying motorbike descended, the gusts from its exhaust ruffled the man's beard which was the color of dirty, under-the-car snow. When the bike pulled to a stop several metres in front of the old man, a giant—a veritable giant!-sprung off the bike with a gusto unassociated with his size. In his meaty arms, he carried a bundle of meat. Bundled within the meat was a tiny baby. The baby had on tiny glasses, a crop of misbehaving black hair and, most ominously, a scar in the shape of letters that spelled "VOLDEMORT" on his forebrow.
"Ev'nin' Professor Dumbledore," said the giant, unwrapping the infant from the layers of meat.
"Dear Satan, Hagrid!" responded Professor Dumbledore. "I didn't know you had a child!"
"'E's not mine, Professor Dumbledore! This is the boy, the Boy Who Didn't Die! You told me to bring him 'ere." Hargid handed the child to Dumbledore.
"Yes, a fine specimen indeed!" Dumbledore exclaimed. He began to wander off with the baby, whistling a merry tune.
"Wait!" shouted a cat, who had appeared from out of a nearby shrubbery. Both Dumbledore and Hagrid eyed the verbose feline with active amazement. Before their eyes, the cat turned into a woman, and then into an older woman. She had auburn hair (clearly dyed) and a posture that suggested she would accept no late assignments.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagal," said Dumbledore, walking back towards Hagrid. "I had forgotten you could do that."
McGonagal approached her two compatriots, and the baby. "I'm surprised you haven't forgotten how to put your robe on straight."
"Hagrid helped me,"
Hagrid buried his face in one of his gargantuan hands.
Once again, Dumbledore began shambling off into the darkness.
"Wait, Professor! The baby," cried McGonagal.
"Huh! What baby?"
"The one in your arms!"
"Oh yes!" Dumbledore then placed the child on the ground and resumed his impromptu journey.
Hagrid, taking initiative, scooped up the baby and walked towards the door of Number 123 Royale Court, in Northhamptshireton Village, Surrey. Dumbledore, like so many a t-rex before him, was attracted to the motion and followed along. After the giant placed the boy onto the steps, Dumbledore looked between his two companions and remarked, "I feel like a stork," he then began rubbing his belly in soft fluid motions, "I think it's high time I had a child of my own." These remarks were met by condescending accolades by both Hagrid and McGonagal, followed by the ushering of Dumbledore off of the property.
" 're you sure i's alright to leave Harry there like that?" Hagrid asked.
"Listen," Dumbledore said, "I've lived a long life—longer than you'll ever live—and in that time I've learned that, on average, people are pretty swell."
"But, Professor," McGonagal interjected, "I've watched these Muggles, and they are simply horrid! Honestly, I don't know how the fat one mates with the thin one!"
"Their mating aside, they are the only family he has. Besides, everyone loves all their relatives, all the time."
"But this boy will be famous! Everyone in our world will know of him! Merlin's Moustache, Albus, there will action figures of him, and a musical!"
"I know. But it will be better for young Harry to grow up away from all the fame and the attention..." Dumbledore then added as an afterthought, "And the love."
Together, the three strode away in solemn unanimity.
The next morning, Vernon Dursely went out to fetch the morning paper, and instead discovered a baby on his steps. Resting on the baby's blanket was a small note that read, "Hi! My name is Harry Potter (your name here). Please treat me well."
"Great," Dursely grumbled. "It's going to be one of those days." Vernon Dursely crumpled the card and threw it away. He debated throwing out the baby as well.
A/N: You're probably wondering why Hagrid carries Harry in a satchel of meat. It's a funny story.
See you next time.