House: Ravenclaw

Word Count: 1631

Category: Short

Prompt(s): [Word] Helpful

AU Warning: In this AU McGonagall decided she would take Harry in and care for him, instead of letting Petunia and Vernon take him in and be cruel to him for all his eleven years before Hogwarts.

"You're giving Lily and James Potter's son to whom?" Came the deadly calm voice of Minerva McGonagall. Her question pointed towards the old wizard who stood before her dressed in long purple robes and a pair of half-moon spectacles on his face. She stood clad in green robes, an ice cold glare taking over her usually stoic features.

"I can't give him to anyone else Minerva." It was a short reply, one that definitely wasn't helpful, not in Minerva's eyes at least. Nor anyone else's she presumed. It was almost like he thought that would deter her from her argument.

"Why in Merlin's name not Albus?" It was the first time she'd called him by his first name, an indication she had no intention of backing down from this argument any time soon. "He'll be known all across our world by now. I'm sure there's at least one other family willing to take him in."

"Exactly my dear, we can't have him raised in that, it'll all get to his head. No one, not even Harry, will benefit from that." Albus Dumbledore's eyes had softened at the corners, the twinkling in the edge of his eyes dim, though still barely there. Realization dawned on the elderly witch at the elder wizard's words, yet determination still burned bright in her eyes.

"You don't want him raised so he's pampered?" A short nod from the Headmaster, a helpful bit of confirmation. "Fine then, give him to me. I'll raise him."

Albus' eyes grew warm and a smile graced his features. A gasp was heard from behind the two, it came from Hagrid, who was holding little Harry in his arms. They had momentarily forgotten his presence during their discussion, but it didn't matter. Minerva raised an eyebrow at Albus Dumbledore, as if to ask what his decision would be.

He seemed to contemplate her offer for a minute or so, the anxiety showing on the Transfiguration teacher's face clear as day. Hagrid could be heard in the almost silence, shushing the child he held in his arms, trying to keep him quiet and calm. It was extremely helpful, because Harry being quiet meant that the neighbors wouldn't wake up and notice the three of them standing there in unusual clothing, with a baby, talking about Muggle's and the fate of this particular child.

"Of course you can raise him." Came the soft reply from Albus, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. The corners of Minerva's mouth tilted slightly upwards as Hagrid handed her the baby, Harry Potter, and he snuggled contentedly in her arms. She apparated with a quick pop, leaving a smiling Albus Dumbledore and a crying Hagrid behind.

She laid him down in her bed, reminding herself she would need to get him a crib the next morning, before she sat down and prepared herself for the inevitability of Harry waking up crying in the middle of the night. However, she ended up falling asleep, and when she woke up to crying, it was in the morning with the sun already bursting through the windows of her small home.

Minerva looked down to Harry Potter's small face, with his unusually bright green eyes, who had stopped crying once she sat up. She picked him up and decided to wrap him back up in a cloth to keep him warm while she took him out shopping. He was a helpful little baby, he slept most of the time, he was calm, quiet, and always looking around at his surroundings with a sort of inquisitive wonder. It was almost like the world around him was fascinating, though he'd never been out of his cottage in Godric's Hollow, so it was all new to him.

The Hogwarts teacher bought him a small green crib, some food, and clothing, which he was absolutely fascinated with. For the next few months everything ran smoothly, Harry was a helpful child; he would always give some indication as to what he was crying about, and wouldn't cry needlessly He also didn't wake up in the middle of the night that often, which meant Minerva could get her sleep. When he did wake up he would wake up crying, Minerva presumed he would forget where he was, and that he would be missing his mother and father. When these nights occured she would pick him up and hum a tune, and in minutes he would be back to sleeping soundly.

September came quicker than anyone had expected, and along with it came the problem of who would watch Harry while Minerva went to Hogwarts to teach classes. The solution was shocking, to say the least. Albus had simply warned the staff and other inhabitants of the fact that little Harry would be in the castle during the school year. He was one and just starting to crawl.

It warmed Minerva's heart to see the paintings practically on baby watch as Harry began to crawl better and better, moving across greater distances now. It was helpful that he tired himself out, as he fell asleep in the Charms classrooms for his naps everyday of the school year. Flitwick always moved him to an empty classroom where the ghosts made it their duty to watch him while he slept.

Harry had lost his biological family tragically, but everyone at Hogwarts was so helpful and caring that it seemed like they were all his family now. Even the students took to playing with the young child in their free periods, performing magic for him and watching him giggle or just staring at him in awe. Hagrid was probably the most ecstatic about Harry practically growing up at Hogwarts, spending the most time with the young child when asked, eyes tearing up as he stared at him.

When Harry hit two-years-old he had random spurts of magic, which had been anything but helpful. He had once stranded a group of first-year Slytherins on the stairs, as it seemed his magic could move the stairs at his own will. This had given all the professors a laugh, all but Snape, though he had never been particularly fond of Harry.

Hagrid however was extremely helpful during Harry's magical spurts, showing him random magical creatures to get him to calm down, or helping him channel his magic into something more useful.

At four years old Harry said his first word, it was a bit later than most would expect a child to say their first words, but Minerva had decided to let him speak on his own terms. He'd been reaching for her, wanting her to pick him up, and he'd eventually said, "Minnie!" She'd laughed quietly and picked him up, it seemed to be his favorite thing to do, and she couldn't deny that she was particularly fond of the nickname.

Years sped by quickly, and Harry was soon seven-years-old, contentedly watching the Quidditch teams as they practiced. Even though the teams kept fighting over who would teach him how to fly, it was comical, they thought they were being helpful. Minerva quickly found out about it and gave each team captain detentions, telling Harry that she'd teach him how to fly. He was a natural, though that didn't shock her at all, his father had been amazing at the sport, Harry was bound to be the same.

At the age of eight he got his first wand with Minerva smiling softly behind him, as he stared at it in wonder. In any normal case he would have been denied a wand, but after the war ended there had been a new law set into place that underage witches and wizards from magical families could get wands as a form of self defence. It didn't hurt that he was The Boy Who Lived either. He practiced spells with Professor Flitwick often, learning small things and smiling to himself when he managed to perfect a spell. Even Snape helped him learn Potions, a small sliver of pride was obviously forming at how well Harry performed in their little potion lessons.

Ages nine and ten were fairly uneventful, which was helpful to the teachers, as he would stay up in the Owlery reading most often, or he could sometimes be found practicing his skills in empty classrooms. It filled everyone who helped raise the child with a sense of pride to see him growing to be a good natured and kind-hearted young boy.

Minerva didn't want to think of what would've happened to him if he'd stayed with Petunia and Vernon Dursley. Growing up with her was very much different, she felt, than growing up with them would've been. She was strict and stern with him, but at least she let him know he was loved and that he was important. It was helpful for him to know that, moving on in his life, it would give him more self-confidence, allow him to be comfortable in his own skin. At least that's what she thought.

Now he was eleven and boarding a separate train to Hogwarts than he always had. The teaching staff couldn't wait to see what house he would get put into, and see if he'd made any friends on the train. He sat alone in a compartment, until a red-haired boy stopped in and sat down, they chatted for a while, becoming something like friends by simply introducing themselves and making friendly small talk.

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley."

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"This is Scabbers, quite a sight isn't he?"

"Kind of."

The two started laughing, talking and conversing happily. They were sure of something, the both of them. They were going to Hogwarts, it would be amazing. One thing was for certain, however...

This would be the start of an absolutely amazing adventure.