A/N
This is my first effort at actually writing something for this site, so please be kind. I'm gonna try and keep everyone in character for this story, though different events in the story will change them as things progress. Thanks for checking this out, and I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Obviously anything from the Harry Potter world, e.g. the characters and the setting, isn't mine, and I'm getting nothing but experience from writing this. I'll also be using little bits which you'll recognise from the first Harry Potter book in this story, as I don't see why the addition of an OC would change much initially.
Prologue – One Dark All Hallows Night
What had begun as a fair yet cloudy night, had turned to rain. Bitter, cold rain that cuts through your clothes no matter how many layers you wear. No sane person would be out in weather such as this, which made the oddly dressed man walking down Privet Drive that little bit stranger. He was tall, thin, and very old, and was wrapped in a long purple cloak which almost swept the ground, his dark blue robes and high-heeled, buckled boots could barely be seen poking out below. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore walked calmly down the street, seemingly unconcerned by the rain soaking his long white beard. Though he walked with purpose and a clear destination in mind, he was in no rush to get there. The quiet sound of padding feet made Dumbledore look up in time to see a tabby cat jump down from the wall beside him. He regarded this cat with amusement, and turned to address it. "Good evening Professor McGonagall, I did wonder if I would be seeing you here tonight." The cat reared up on its hind legs and in one swift motion transformed into a severe looking woman who was wearing square glasses in exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes, dressed in robes and a cloak similar in style to those belonging Dumbledore, but more subdued in colour.
"Headmaster," She greeted him, "I suspected you might be bringing them here. I thought I would observe the place you intend the Potter boys to grow up." McGonagall turned her disapproving eye from Dumbledore to the house behind her. It was unremarkable in design, indistinguishable from the other houses up and down the street, except for the clearly marked number 4 beside the door.
"And what conclusions have you come to, my dear?" the Headmaster asked, bringing McGonagall's attention back to him.
"They're the worst sort of muggles, Albus. They couldn't be any more different to our kind. I saw the child kicking his parents up the street screaming for sweets. Surely you can't intend for the Saviour of the Wizarding World and the future Lord of a Great House to grow up here?"
"It may not seem it, but I promise you I am doing what is best for the children. The protections I can weave for them here will keep them safe from any of the Dark Lord's remaining followers." The Headmaster sighed, looking past McGonagall. "Here, they might have a chance at a childhood, without the weight of fame or the responsibilities of lordship."
The roar of a motorbike slowly became audible, though the roads remained clear. The Headmaster looked up, and smiled. "Ah, that must be Hagrid with the children now."
McGonagall stared incredulously at the Headmaster. "You entrusted the Potter boys to Hagrid?"
"Hagrid has my full trust, Minerva. He is more than capable of bringing the children here." The Headmaster said, with a note of admonishment in his tone.
The roaring of the motorbike grew louder, as it became visible flying down through the sky, coming to a rolling stop in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. Upon the bike sat a man a third taller than the average person, and at least twice as wide. The man, clearly the aforementioned Hagrid, reached down into the sidecar attached to the bike and removed two bundles, tightly wrapped in baby blue blankets.
"Hagrid, at last," said the Headmaster, sounding relieved. "And where did you get the motorbike?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Said the giant of a man approaching the Headmaster. "Young Sirius Black lent it me."
"Are they well, Hagrid?" The Headmaster asked, reaching out to take the squirming one of the two bundles.
"Yes sir, wee Harry fell asleep over the border; the other, Jonathon, is barely keepin' his eyes open." Hagrid passed the other bundle to McGonagall, who looked down and gasped at the vivid lightning bolt scar on the babe's forehead.
"Albus," She said, raising her gaze to meet his, "This must be where…" She trailed off, eyes lowering back to the distinctive scar.
"Yes, I do believe that is where Voldemort cast the killing curse, and where it rebounded to destroy the Dark Lord's body." Dumbledore looked down to the babe he held in his arms, taken aback by the wide open bright green eyes. "Come, Minerva, we'd better get this over with."
"Could I – could I say goodbye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid, as Dumbledore and McGonagall moved towards the door.
Hagrid moved forward, bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. He bent over Jon and treated him to the same then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s- sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c- c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles – "
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, again moving with Dumbledore towards the front door of the house. They lay the babes gently on the doorstep, as Dumbledore took a letter out of his robes and tucked it inside Harry's blanket. The three walked back to the gate of the property and stood for a full minute, all staring at the two little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," Dumbledore said finally, "We've no business staying here, when there is so much left to be done."
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore sir." Wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall." Said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply, and nodded absently.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street, on the corner he stopped and looked back towards Number 4 Privet Drive, just in time to see a tabby cat slink around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just make out the two bundles of blankets on the step of number 4.
"Good luck, to the both of you." He murmured. Dumbledore twisted on his heel, and disappeared with a quiet pop.