"James and Lily, dead?" cries Minerva McGonagall, a stout witch wearing an emerald-green cloak. "I can't believe it, Albus. The smartest and bravest people, dead! And who is their son going to live with?"
Albus Dumbledore smiled wanly. "At this very home we are at." He waved his hand towards the neat, prim house of Number 4, Privet Drive. This comment produced a screech from Minerva, whose face had turned a puce color.
"Y - You're not being serious, are you, Albus? Th - These people are horrible. I can't believe you'd send off a famous wizard to a home like this. I was here all day, and they have the worst son. I don't want Harry Potter living with a disgruntled 'tyke' like that fat baby." she spat disgustedly. "What about the Longbottoms? Or...the Weasleys? We certainly cannot have a wizard, and a good one, at a Muggle's house. I won't permit it, Albus."
Dumbledore kept smiling as he rummaged through a worn pocket in his very own cloak. Mumbling something to himself, he popped open a sack of what looked to be sweets. "Aha! Now, Minerva, where's your manners?" He stopped and waited for a second, as it looked like Minerva wanted to shout something at him angrily. After another second of waiting, he said, "Want a lemon sherbet? It's a Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"I'm rather fond of Harry going to a wizard family, Albus." Minerva retorted, and Dumbledore laughed.
Chuckling, he replied, "Alright. You've got me convinced, but, Minerva - famous before he can walk and talk? It's enough to make every boy's head turn. It's too much."
"Where is he, anyway? Harry?" Minerva suddenly asked, and, as soon as those words left her mouth, a shuddering noise came from the sky.
"Hagrid is bringing him," Dumbledore said calmly, as if it was usual. "But I must tell him there is, ahem, a change of plans."
With a putt and a crunch, a ginormous motorcycle fell from the sky. A man, if you could call him that, was holding a small little bundle. Harry.
...
"What is this?" A woman with blonde hair creaked open the large sliding door. Her night robe was dirty and her lips were dry and chapped. "A baby? I - I, Dumbledore, my hands are full with one -"
Dumbledore raised a slender hand. "This is Harry Potter, Narcissa. Would you like Harry Potter to go to a Muggle home?" When Narcissa straightened and shook her head, Dumbledore continued. "So take him in, and treat him well. Make him the wizard he was meant to be."
And with that, Dumbledore placed the now awake and crying baby into Narcissa's awaiting hands. He gave a nod towards the bundle and strode off out of the long, wide driveway and disappeared into the night.
...