Waxing Pale
Twin Kats

It was late Hallowe'en night, early November morning. The paperwork stacked on Albus' desk needed just a few more signatures to be considered finished. They were war-time provisions for Hogwarts, care packages for the recently orphaned students. Three new names had been added just tonight, the owls delivered to his office during the Feast.

Miranda Miles
James Rands
Ian Roland

The list grew longer and longer each day, and each day Albus' heart grew heavier and heavier with each new addition. With a sad flourish he signed the last page of the updated document and set the paperwork aside. Fawks, on his perch, trilled soothingly.

"I know, dear friend," Albus replied, and stroked his beard. "Sometimes I feel like I'm putting all of my eggs in one basket, when I should be out there fighting."

The Potters and Longbottoms, safely hidden away under Fidelius. Both were aware that, if Voldemort found them then it meant their child was most likely the Chosen One. It would be a hefty burden, and neither parent wanted it to be true. Albus truthfully didn't want it to be true. However all of his research and scrying, an art that while he wasn't proficient he was rather decent at it, had revealed to him that Voldemort had power and magics of which he couldn't comprehend. It would take him at the very least a decade of searching, of research, of looking back through history and time and delving into the depths of darkness to find what Voldemort—what Tom had done to himself specifically to create this monster of a man he became.

Fawks trilled lightly again, once, and then took flight just as several of Albus' whirling gizmo's started screeching. Albust leaped to his feet. His chair crashed back and then to the ground.

"The Potters!" he cried, the red hazy smoke emanating from his gizmo's was only meant to appear if it were the Potter wards that fell. This was terrible news. It meant that the blood wards needed to be prepared, which meant he had to prepare himself for ritual casting, and this was counting on if young Harry even survived the encounter. If anyone survived the encounter. The poor child, what a difficult life he would lead.

Albus waved his wand once, to silence his instruments and set them into peace. He then grabbed a quill and an inkpot and drafted a letter, several actually, based upon several varying conditions. As the emerald ink began to cool he turned to cast a Patronus with his wand. The door to his office burst open before he could get out "Expecto" and in came barreling Hagrid with Fawks on his shoulder.

"'E came t' me lookin' quite hassled Dumbledore," Hagrid. "'As somet'in 'appened?"

Albus nodded sadly. "Yes, Rubeus, I'm afraid so. The Potters were just attacked. I need you to go check on the house, find out if there were any survivors. Bring them to Privet Drive." Subtly he cast a few condition charms connecting whatever Hagrid found to the letters, which folded up on his desk, ready to be mailed off to the profit. "I'll be there, waiting for you my friend."

Hagrid let out a great big wail and Albus shed a few tears. He stepped around his desk, patted Hagrid on the shoulder, and handed him a hankerchief.

"Time is of the essence Rubeus," Albus said softly. "You must hurry. The wards at Godrics Hollow have fallen, anyone could stumble upon the place. Anyone. Young Harry could be in danger." Albus couldn't stress this more, the poor boy needed to be in safe hands as quickly as possible and, unfortunately, Godrics Hollow was not accessable by floo, or apparition. Best Hagrid could do was catch the Knight Bus outside of Hogsmead and that was a tricky ride. It could take hours to get anywhere.

Hagrid blubbered for a second, blew his nose, and nodded once.

"Yer can count on me, Dumbledore," he said, blew his nose again, and left the office. Albus sighed. That was one complication down. Hagrid was trustworthy, completely loyal, and would get there as quickly as possible. Now Albus could focus solely on preparing for the ritual which would take most of the day.

Albus arrived at Privet Drive late, as he expected. By the time he could apparate to the corner of Magnolia Crescent he had been forced to take a train from Hogsmead to Kings Cross. Hours of ritual preperations, at his age, could take a lot out of ones magical prowess and he needed to be as pure and untainted magically as he could be for casting the ward net over Privet Drive as he could get.

Bloodwards of the nature he desired to cast would be the darkest, and the lightest, of the wards. They were, legally, not sanctioned by the Ministry. Knowledge of their existence was in fact restricted. Dumbledore by all rights probably shouldn't even know they do exist, except that he had read about them, and unearthed the ritual, in an obscure tome in his younger years.

Albus darkened the streetlamps in preparation with his Put-Outer, the night must be light only by moonlight and starlight, although the occasional house lamp was perfectly alright. He glanced towards Minerva, sitting rigidly as a cat on the brick half-fence of Number Four, staring at the house with disdain.

"Minerva," Albus murmured thoughtfully, and fluidly Minerva switched from cat to human.

"Don't tell me you are placing him here, Albus," Minerva said. Her words where sharp, her eyes narrowed. There was the barest hint of her scottish brogue. Perhaps the placement would not be as comforting as Albus had hoped, but it would be for the best.

"It is for the best," he said. "His mothers blood will provide protection for him." That's what he hoped for, at least. Harry had survived, at either rate, and it looks like Lily and James didn't survive as Albus had predicted.

"So it is true then? What they're all saying?" Minerva questioned. "All the celebrations, the parties...you'd think we hadn't heard of the Statute of Secrecy before!"

Albus nodded, his gaze trained on the sky. "Yes. It is true. Tom is..." dead, perhaps, but Albus does not believe that rot. More like biding his time, hidden away. "...defeated."

"And Harry did?" Minerva continued, disbelief colored her tone. "Do you honestly believe a one year old child-"

"I believe Lily and James had a hand in things," Albus said sharply, giving Minerva a look over his half-moon spectacles, "that, yes, gave young Harry an edge of Tom he wouldn't have had otherwise." The power of love, perhaps. Albus had always had this odd penchant that love would save the day, romance and love—the one thing Tom could never understand, the one thing Lily and James had in spades for Harry. Yes, if he was right it was love that Harry would have in spades, and that would be his special gift.

Or that could just be his fancy wishy washy nonsense coming into play, but Albus had one of his really rare special feelings in this case. Like the ones he had about Gallert, all those years ago. That hadn't turned out into as much of a disaster as he'd thought it would be in the end there, either.

"Ah, look, here comes Rubeus now..." Albus murmured, interrupting whatever Minerva was about to say.

She, in turn, shot him a look. Albus refrained from wincing. They would, apparently, be having words about his appointment of persons sent to retrieve young heroes. Hagrid landed a familiar giant motorbike and killed its engine rather quickly. Sirius' motorbike if Albus was correct in his assumption. A frown threatened to cross his face. Perhaps he should have warned Hagrid about Sirius as a threat before sending him off?

"Is he okay, Hagrid?" Albus said, by way of making sure Black hadn't done anything to the child. Hagrid nodded, and pulled out the handkerchief from earlier.

"Fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol," he said. "Li'l tyke." He blew his nose. "B-But poor L-Lily an J-James..." Great wailing sobs threatened to break forth and Albus stepped forward and carefully patted Hagrid on the back.

"There, there, my friend. Their sacrifice wasn't in vain," Albus said softly. "We will always remember them, and protect their son. Always."

Minerva curled her lip, slightly in frustration and in slight disgust and Hagrid's unprofessional behavior. She moved to the sidecar to pick up Harry and her curled lip turned into a pursed frown.

"Albus," she said slowly, and lifted the child up, "does this, perhaps, look like everything is perfectly alright to you?"

Albus looked over at the child in Minerva's arms and paused, for a minute. His heart skipped a beat, and he forgot to breath. There in Minerva's hands was not the child he thought or remembered seeing Lily and James holding when Lily gave birth, except, for a minute he didn't remember Lily every giving birth or being pregnant. There was a pause and his mind took a moment to reorder itself as things shuffled around and became clear and a secrecy spell broke like an egg.

Oh. Well, this certainly complicates matters. Perhaps complete isolation is a rather poor choice for the child's upbringing, then. Albus lifted the boy from Minerva's grasp and cast a simple, light memory charm on her and Hagrid, and then set about on fixing the wards themselves. They'd need to be adjusted appropriately. Of course they were still bloodbased, just not familial-or-love based, exactly. Protection would still be provided, with constant check-ups and check-ins, of course, over the years to make sure young Harry was being raised right with no complications. Petunia would just have to deal with it, unfortunately, because young Harry was a rather special child all things considered.

Albus smiled, once he had everything set up, and placed the boy wrapped in a soft red cocoon on the doorstep of the Dursley household with a note. He placed a rather simple spell over the child that would last the first few years, with a note explaining that he'd be by in a few years to check up on the boy and explain a few things then. With that said and done, Albus ushered Minerva and Hagrid off to celebrate.

"You will do great things, Harry Potter, or shall I call you Karkat?" was the last thing he said to the young, gray skinned, slumbering grub on the doorstep with a slight knowing smile on his face that vanished almost an instant later, along with Albus himself.

Summary: Nobody is displeased to have more help against Lord English or Jack, but everybody is confused as to how this new group of humans showed up on the meteor hurtling through the Furthest Ring. Everybody except Karkat who is just cursing up a storm and facepalming. Repeatedly. Of course they'd crash the party. They can never leave well enough alone, can't they. / Potterstuck

It took me a while. I went through four possible renditions of this chapter, before I decided upon this one. Yeah. I got that annoyed with it. So enjoy, motherfuckers.

Oooh, how does Dumbledore know this shit? How did Karkat show up on Earth like that? But wait, isn't he on Alternia? Somethings wrong here right! Well wait and find out.

Yeah I'm keeping it short this time. Why doncha all review next time okay? Okay. Ciao.