Evening—Number Four, Privet Drive
On the lawn sat a basket, and in the basket was a baby; the baby was named Harry Potter, and he was asleep.
Beside the basket stood a pair of boots, and in the boots there was a woman; the woman was named Minerva McGonagall, and she was awake.
The silence stretched, but neither Minerva nor the baby moved. They appeared to be watching, waiting. Waiting for—what? Dreams long forgotten? Lost friends? Old lovers? Or—
Murmurs hissed across the lawn. The air rippled like molten metal, and a human form appeared.
Albus Dumbledore was a tall wizard, with a beard that brushed his knees. He had an old, wrinkled face. A lopsided nose. Half moon glasses, behind which hid two blue eyes. The glasses reflected starlight.
Finally, he spoke. "How do you do, Minerva?" And then: "Would you like a lemon drop?"
Minerva McGonagall's face was severe when she replied. "No, thank you, Albus. I hardly think it is the time for sweets—"
"Ah! It is always time for sweets, is it not?" The wizard smiled. "But let us not rehash such an old argument now, Minerva. There are, as you wisely imply, things to be doing—let us do them, and quickly!" With that, Albus Dumbledore pulled from his pocket a wand of power. He inspected it for a few moments, before raising it high.
Minerva said, "Albus, the Potters are dead, and Harry is an orphan. Surely you must be thinking about his future. What do you plan to do?"
"Do?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Why, I plan to save the world, of course!"
One wave of the wand, and the nearest streetlights snapped out. A second, and the street cleared of cars. A third, and all of the neighborhood dogs started peeing really hard.
"Albus—"
"Sorry, so sorry. My mistake." He waved his wand a final time, and was suddenly holding a small bottle, filled to the brim with a frothing pink liquid.
The wizard stared at the potion. The witch stared at the potion. The baby slept on.
After a bit, Minerva found her voice. "Is that—could it be?" Surely, even Albus wouldn't—
But Dumbledore gave a grave nod. "It is exactly what you are thinking, Minerva, provided that you are thinking this: is that a potion that will make one baby fall in love with another?"
"What?"
Dumbledore looked deep into Minerva's eyes. "Minerva, you are aware of the danger that young Harry Potter will be in, both from the Death Eaters, and from Voldemort himself, when he returns."
The witch nodded.
Dumbledore held up the potion flask. It bubbled. "Thus, I have concocted a rather clever plot. In order to increase his own power, and decrease the danger that will inevitably arise, I will place Harry in a Muggle home: that of his aunt and uncle. There he will be healthy and happy as he grows, and he will remain far from those wizards who might wish to do him harm." The wizard scratched his beard with his wand. "However, one day he will need to rejoin the wizarding world so that he can fight his war with Voldemort.
"Tell me, Minerva: do you remember the contents of the prophecy? Particularly that describing Harry possessing 'a power the Dark Lord knows not'?"
The witch nodded once more.
"What you must realize, my dear, is that this power of Harry's is not the traditional sort. He won't be a magical prodigy. Nor will he possess great good looks, an impressive vocal range, or even a whit of intelligence. No—Harry's great power will merely be this: the ability to love."
"To love? But then, if he already has this power, why is the potion necessary?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "One morning, I was eating breakfast at Hogwarts. I was having a bowl of Cheerios and fruit. I was in the middle of a banana slice when it came to me. An idea of epically brilliant proportions. Can you guess what it was?"
"Umm…"
"I thought to myself: if Harry's power is his ability to love, then doesn't that mean that if he can love harder, he'll be even more powerful? And if he can love ridiculously hard, so incredibly hard that he remakes the world to his will because of that love, then doesn't that mean he'll be so strong that Lord Voldemort won't stand a chance? Yes! Oh, yes! And so I decided to act." Dumbledore brandished his flask. "This is a potion to make one baby love another. It is of the most powerful sort, the strongest love potion that I know how to brew; most likely the strongest that exists. It is meant to be delivered at a young age, so that the love has time to develop. By the time Harry Potter is old enough to attend Hogwarts, he will feel as if he is destined to marry the directed person, that they are his soulmate, and that without them he will not survive. This will ensure his great victory over Voldemort." The wizard gazed long and deep into the pink liquid. Then he turned back to Minerva, smiling. "So, my dear: what do you think?"
Minerva's response was something to the effect of: "That sounds insane, but you are the brilliantly wise old wizard in this duo. I'll trust you, and pray to the Lord that you know what you're doing."
"The Lord, as in...Voldemort?"
"No, Albus. Don't be dumb." She paused. "I do have a question, however: who will be on the receiving end of Harry's affections?"
"Why, Minerva, I couldn't tell you that. It would spoil all the fun! Plus, I imagine that Harry might resent you if you knew what will become his greatest secret. Rest assured that she is a very lovely girl. One of excellent breeding, and impeccable good looks. Why, if I were a heterosexual male baby, who knows; maybe Harry would have some competition!" Dumbledore gave a booming laugh that went on for many minutes, but then Minerva gave him a look, and it cut off abruptly. He became businesslike.
"Well, Minerva, if you would just hold baby Harry like so…"
Dumbledore poured the flask on the child's face. Most of the pink liquid dripped down the cheeks and coated the jet-black hair. A bit splashed into the open mouth.
When the task was done, Dumbledore took the baby in his arms, and looked at it sadly. "The time has come for us to part, young Harry," he said. A tear rolled down his cheek and vanished into the beard. "But we will meet again, one day, and all will be right in the world…" Dumbledore looked at Minerva. "Any last words, my dear?"
The witch looked down at baby Harry, sleeping so peacefully, unknowing, not realizing that he meant so much to so many people, or that he lived beneath a constant cloud of danger…She wondered if perhaps there was another way, if Harry could grow up in a wizarding home the way he would if his parents had lived. But Minerva didn't know how to say all that. "You're not going to put him on the doorstep, are you, Albus?" she asked finally. "That seems so very exposed…"
Dumbledore looked at her incredulously. "Of course not! My dear, who do you take me to be?" He wrapped Harry tighter in the blanket, and smoothed the hair back on his forehead. "Goodbye," he said. He placed baby Harry in the mailbox, right next to a couple of old newspapers and a wasp nest.
As Dumbledore and Minerva walked towards the street, as the night remained quiet and isolating, Minerva asked: "I am curious, Albus. How do you know that this family will treat him well? Aren't you worried that they might lock him in a cupboard, or do something, well, cruel?"
The old wizard spoke softly. "That was a risk," he said. "One that I didn't think we could take, especially considering Harry's ability to love. Suppression of his power could cause an unprecedented danger...and so I did what I had to."
"Albus...what exactly—"
"I snuck down to this home under my invisibility cloak...and then I waited for the milkman to come...and into the milk bottles I slipped—guess what—?"
"Um..."
"Love potion, my dear. Except the Dursley family won't feel love for a female baby. Oh, no...they'll feel love for Harry…"
In seconds, the road was empty. In seconds, and after only a tiny pop, Privet Drive was filled with the sound of nothing but snores...as each inhabitant of the neighborhood slept, not knowing what their future held, not knowing if, upon waking up, they would find their dreams fulfilled or shattered…
In the mailbox of Number Four, Harry Potter rolled over and smiled. He was having the most amazing dream involving the most fantastic female baby…
And the world slept on.