All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling. No profit is being made.
The plot bunnies bit – I present to you thre ways that Dumbledore's plans could have collapsed from day 1.
Albus Dumbledore held the tiny form of Harry Potter in his arms, wrapped in a blanket that carried the scents of smoke and baby powder, a rather odd combination. This was the child that had defeated Voldemort, the child who had saved them all from a terrible fate.
"He must stay here, with his last living relatives. He will be protected by the ties of blood, and by the oldest of magics," the old wizard declared.
"You can't simply leave him on the doorstep, Albus!" Minerva's sharp voice was laden with disapproval.
"Of course I can, Minerva! He's sound asleep."
It took some doing, but Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts, convinced Minerva and Hagrid of his plan, and watched as Minerva vanished with a disapproving pop! and Hagrid climbed back on the motorcycle and drove away, this time remaining on the ground.
Depositing the sleeping baby on the doorstep with a note, Albus Dumbledore finished setting the wards, and vanished with his own soft pop, reminiscent of the sound of a bag of lemon sherberts opening.
Harry Potter awoke just after three in the morning, his diaper sodden and his belly empty. A few sniffles and whimpers failed to bring his mother, but his flailing arms unwound the blanket, leaving the child unfettered save by his tiny pajamas.
At fifteen months of age, Harry Potter walked quite well, thank you.
He set off to find his mother, or his father, or one of his uncles - Pa'foo, Mooey, and Pe'er. Toddling away from number 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter was never seen again.
end Wrong 1.
Depositing the sleeping baby on the doorstep with a note, Albus Dumbledore finished setting the wards, keyed to protect the child as long as his mother's blood dwelled within. Remembering that children of this size could often walk, he cast a spell to keep the boy asleep for another eight hours and tucked a note into the blanket. Smiling with no small degree of satisfaction, he vanished with a faint pop.
Unfortunately, the blanket that was wrapped around Harry was chosen for the child's peace of mind, to sooth him for a brief trip to his Godfather's house. It was rather thin and provided little protection. The night was cold, leaving a layer of frost on the ground.
It also covered the tiny child, frozen to death on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive.
end Wrong 2.
Vernon Dursley was not an imaginative man. He disliked imagination and dreams on principle, and it was best not to even start on his opinions of magic, let alone of most witches and wizards that he'd encountered. They were far from his idea of normal, upstanding people.
He should know, his wife's sister had turned out to be a witch, and she'd then gone and married one of those wizards. Dreadful people, filled up to their ears with dreams and fanciful imaginings, and waving sticks and muttering words and making things change to suit them. Probably not a single one appreciated the value of hard work and money.
Worse than that, there had been plenty of those senseless freaks wandering about all day. Not only that, but muttering about 'the Potters', and how this was a joyous occasion. Absurd, that was the term people used for weddings and babies, not early November afternoons.
Potter was the name of that wretched wizard that Petunia's sister had married.
The whole thing gave Vernon Dursley a bad feeling, one similar to indigestion. That was why when he returned home from one of his stranger days at work - owls flying about in the daytime, and strange wizards hugging him! He had given Petunia a hug and persuaded her to pack up Dudley and drive off for a weekend get-away. Somewhere nice and enjoyable, and far from those demented wizards.
So it happened that when the milkman was making his deliveries along Privet Drive, he heard a soft sniffly wail from Number 4, he knew something was not right. The couple who lived there had rang him to let him know they were popping out for the weekend and not to bother delivering any milk, so it couldn't be their son crying at this early hour.
He had no idea who had left a small child tangled up in a blanket and tucked into a basket, dropped on the doorstep of Number 4. The poor child must have been outside for hours! He couldn't imagine what the Dursley's would ahve said, but he doubted that such irresponsibility would have pleased them any more than it did himself. After all, his wife had just given birth to their own tiny son, and he couldn't imagine ever leaving little Colin outside in a blanket during November.
Nathan Creevey picked up the baby along with the empty bottles from Numbers 2 and 6 and made a detour, heading over to the police station. It just wasn't right someone leaving a baby on the front stoop like an empty bottle of milk.
He didn't notice the envelope falling from the basket to the ground.
Children's Services would not be any more amused than he was by this discovery. Especially since nobody along Privet Drive had any small black haired boys in their homes. To make things worse, the boy had an awful gash over his eye, one that was sure to leave a scar even if it didn't get infected from staying open however long he'd been on the step. The boy would probably end up in an orphanage, and if he was lucky, someone might adopt him.
Sighing, Nathan Creevey wondered what was wrong with some people.
end Wrong 3.