Once Upon an October Night
It was chilly. Unusually cold for October. Minerva McGonagall watched as her breath rose in puffs from her mouth and nose. She listened as Professor Dumbledore explained the situation. The Potters were dead, their son had lived, Voldemort had perished, and now Hagrid was transporting the most precious cargo in the magical world to them at this very moment to be left with the most terrible example of muggles that Minerva had ever seen. She knew, she had been observing them for nearly a week.
The man of the house sold drills for a living. Drills. Of all things. His wife, supposedly beautiful Lily's sister, was a tall, lanky, snooty woman who cared more about what the neighbors were thinking than what was best for her family. Minerva shuddered a bit as she thought of these people's own child, the infant Dudley. The parents doted on him like no other parent in the UK possibly could, and it made Minerva sick.
Slowly, her awareness returned to what Albus was saying to her and then the thunder of a motorcycle engine brought her, full throttle, back to reality. Vaguely, she registered what Hagrid was saying, and then she saw it, the tiny, well wrapped bundle that Hagrid produced from his pack. Gently, Albus took the baby from Hagrid's arms. A warmth flooded her heart as she watched Dumbledore with the child. A fond, gentle smile graced his wise features as he softly spoke to Minerva and Hagrid.
Minerva had tried to reason with Albus, tried to tell him that these people, these Dursleys, were the most awful people she had ever seen—hardly parental material for baby Harry—but Albus had interrupted her, striking a nerve in her already sensitive mood. Albus laid the baby on the porch and stood again. Minerva looked down at Harry. Tiny, innocent, weary little Harry. The lump in Minerva's throat couldn't get any bigger without bursting. It was now or never.
"No, Albus," Minerva said, lifting the baby into her arms. Her blue eyes wide in desperation, "I won't leave him here with these…these…muggles." Albus looked sympathetically at his deputy headmistress. She hated that look sometimes. Especially now, when she was in one of those moods where she could at any time do something she might regret in the morning.
"Minerva, we talked about this. Harry's place is with his family, and the Dursley's are the only family he has," said Dumbledore, lightly touching Minerva's shoulder. She jerked away, clutching the baby to her. He seemed so fragile in the cool night air. She looked down at him, his long eyelashes resting on cherub cheeks and tousled brown hair covering his lightning bolt scar. She pulled the blanket over his face a bit; he shouldn't be breathing all that cold air.
"It's not like you to be like this, Minerva. You can't expect yourself to--" Albus was cut off by the look in Minerva's eyes. He knew what she was thinking.
"I can! I'll raise him myself! Albus, this boy will be famous. There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name! He deserves to be raised by his own kind!" Minerva cried.
"Hush, Minerva, you'll wake them!" Albus said softly, gently gesturing toward the Dursley's bedroom window.
"Don't you hush me!" she whimpered, desperate passion wild in her eyes, "He doesn't deserve this!" She was starting to cry now, tears falling down her cheeks. Hagrid could only stand and watch them. On one hand, he wanted to follow Dumbledore's instructions and follow through with the plan, but on the other, his heart desperately wanted to defend Professor McGonagall and keep the little Potter with his own kind…wizard kind. Presently, Professor Dumbledore wrapped his hands around Minerva's shoulders from where he stood behind her. She was sniffling, most likely still crying, and Dumbledore was running out of excuses…and time.
"He deserves better…" muttered Minerva, the wide-brimmed hat on her head casting a shadow from the only light present, the one on the Dursley's porch as she wept.
"I know, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently. He knew that there was no use in arguing with her anymore. Once Minerva McGonagall had her mind made up on something, it was game over.
"He deserves to be *sniff* with someone who will love him," Minerva whimpered, "He deserves *sniff* to be loved."
"Are you certain about this, Minerva? You know the responsibility you take upon yourself tonight?" Albus said near Minerva's ear. She nodded, still looking at the sleeping baby.
"I'll raise him myself," Minerva repeated, more softly this time. Albus lightly kissed Minerva's shoulder and stroked Harry's smooth baby forehead before he instructed Hagrid to return to Hogwart's.
"Professor McGonagall and I will be needing a portkey," he said, gently shepherding Minerva away from the porch. Minerva breathed a deep breath. She had won. Baby Harry was safe.