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WELCOME TO…

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

A Harry Potter/Multi Crossover

I own nothing besides the plot, corny jokes, and my soul.

Chapter 1: For Want Of A Nail

"For the want of a nail the shoe was lost,

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost,

For the want of a horse the rider was lost,

For the want of a rider the battle was lost,

For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost,

And all for the want of a horseshoe-nail."

-Benjamin Franklin

October 31, 2001

It was a windy, somber night as the robed figure made his way down the suburban street. Cookie-cutter houses, each more dull and lifeless as the last, served to further his depression.

Idly, he reached an old, wrinkled hand into the inner breast pocket of his cloak, and withdrew an equally old silver lighter.

Coming to a stop at an inconsequential home, no more different than the last, he pondered the circumstances that led him to this dark home, on this rather drab street.

What more could he have done?

Did his actions, failures condemn an innocent family to death?

And for what?

The Greater Good

The thought of it made him shudder, the flames and stench of death of another ill-begotten war scarring his mind.

He'd always done his best, but contrary to popular opinion, he was not, in fact, infallible.

He failed Gellert.

He failed Tom.

He failed Harry.

Yet he strode on.

And with a flourish of his hand, he raised the lighter.

Click.

Click.

Floosh.

Light after light on the street went dark, sucked into the dull abyss of his deluminator, allowing him to get closer to the house unseen.

"You should be more careful." the scolding voice of his Deputy Headmistress called into the night. "The muggles aren't as blind as you think."

Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of The Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of The ICW, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and his personal favorite; purveyor of lemon drops, let out a low chuckle of amusement.

"Worry not, Minerva," he said, a smile twitching at his lips. "Electricity can become faulty at random. By the time anyone notices, we will be long gone, and young Harry will be safe at last."

Minerva, to both his amusement and exasperation, pursed her lips in disapproval.

"Albus," she scolded. "Are you sure this is the right decision? I've watched them like you said, they are the worst sort of muggles! Honestly..."

Dumbledore cut her off with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Minnie," he said softly. "We already talked about this, with Sirius missing, and Lucius and Narcissa being his closest relatives in the magical world, we can't risk keeping him any longer. Young Andromeda and Ted do not have the means to take care of an extra child right now, and with the blood laws still in effect..." he trailed off. They had already argued this point, and both she and he knew the result.

Minerva's righteous female fury deflated with a tremble of her shoulders.

"I know Albus." she assented. "I wish we could take him in, but Hogwarts is no place for a child his age, its just too dangerous."

Albus nodded his head in agreement. He was feeling all of his One-Hundred-and-Six years in this very instant. Like Sisyphus and his boulder. His weight just got heavier.

"He'll be safe here." he insisted, just as much to himself as he did to her. "The Blood Ward from young Lily's sacrifice will keep any with hostile intent away from the home."

Minerva, by this point, had been mollified. Pulling her robe open, wand in one hand, she withdrew a bread-loaf sized bundle she had been holding within.

Pulling the blanket back, she eyed the young child in her arms.

A lighting-shaped scar, almost like a fissure, was the only blemish that marred the baby's face.

Albus approached Minerva carefully, mindful not to wake the child. Dropping the deluminator back into his pocket, he withdrew a small note from his pocket.

Arm-in-arm with Minerva, he made his way to the porch.

With a flourish of her wand, Minerva conjured a small wicker basket, and with care, slowly settled the small miracle into its confines.

Drawing his own, Albus kneeled and cast a warming charm on the basket, and with the note in hand, tucked it within the cradle.

Standing and brushing dust of his deep magenta robes, Albus mustered a small smile.

"Besides," he declared. "The boy won't be burdened by the weight of his actions. He will have a life, and grow strong and loved. He will be ready for him."

Minerva reached her hand out to Albus.

"I hope he will Albus. For his sake and ours."

And with a crack, they were gone.

In a story, told to generations, this would be the beginning.

A long set path of destiny, for the future of Wizard-Kind set in stone for triumph.

But this wasn't to be.

Green, vivid eyes, the color of the curse that struck him only hours earlier snapped awake, and a baby's wail carried from Number Four, Privet Drive, in Surrey, England.

Fussing in his cradle, a note was set free.

The wind gusted.

The future rippled.

The fate of Harry Potter had changed.

Vernon Dursley was a simple man.

That was one thing that could NOT be debated by anyone.

So, as a simple man, hearing a gunshot and a baby cry out in the middle of the night, he responded simply.

Flying from bed, surprisingly fast for a man of his girth, Vernon flew done the hall of his small home, double-barrel shot gun in hand.

Bursting through the door of his nursery, he shuffled to the crib holding his child.

Young Dudley Dursley slept soundly through the noise, much to the relief of Vernon. He was also safe.

Petunia Dursley, however, was not.

"Vernon!" she hissed viciously in his ear. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing! It took me Three-and-a-Half hours to get him to bed and you come in here bursting through the house like a bloody lunatic! So help me God if he wakes up, not only is it your turn to put him down but I will have your bits!"

Motherhood would eventually be kind to Petunia, but the first few months had been hell. The stress of multiple nights' sleep lost had not only frayed her nerves but had begun to be a hazard to health. Vernon's, that is.

"Pet," he spoke softly. "Did you hear..."

Another cry pierced through the night and they both stiffened.

"Stay here," Vernon ordered, shouldering the gun that Petunia had just noticed in his trembling hands. "Stay with Dudley, its not safe Pet. I heard a gunshot. If anything happens, take Dudley and run."

Petunia went to respond, only to see her husbands form shuffling down their stairs.

For the second time that night, a mother was left to defend her child.

Bit of a cliffy. Vernon and the next chapter will be up tomorrow. I think. TTYL!