Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe. It belongs to J.K Rowling.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the venerable headmaster of Hogwarts, found himself immersed in deep contemplation within the sanctum of his office. Thoughts swirled like ethereal wisps, as he pondered the intricate quandary surrounding the orphaned boy, Harry Potter. The very fabric of destiny seemed interwoven with young Harry's fate. Should he, like any other Muggle-born child, remain oblivious to his magical heritage until his eleventh birthday? Oh, how convenient it would be! But alas, Harry's exceptional circumstances as a celebrated figure and heir to an ancient lineage posed an insurmountable challenge. No, Dumbledore had resolved with unwavering determination that such an ignoble fate could not befall the Boy Who Lived.
And so, with conviction blazing in his eyes, Dumbledore summoned forth his loyal familiar, Fawkes, the majestic phoenix. In a dazzling burst of fiery brilliance, they vanished from the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, reemerging in the quaint village of Upper Swell. Here, nestled among rolling hills and babbling brooks, lay the modest abode of Alfred Anderson, a cherished comrade from bygone days. Alfred, a Muggle-born healer of unparalleled skill, possessed both the medical expertise and unwavering loyalty that Dumbledore sought for the delicate matter at hand.
Eager anticipation danced in Dumbledore's heart as he rapped gently on the door of his old friend's dwelling, the very threshold where memories of shared triumphs and laughter resided. Moments stretched into eternity, until the door creaked open, revealing Alfred's countenance, etched with the marks of wisdom and time.
"Albus, my dear friend," Alfred's voice carried the echoes of cherished memories and the resonance of enduring camaraderie, "Your unexpected visit conjures memories of a bygone era, when your presence graced the Quidditch fields, and magic danced in the air."
A warm smile tugged at Dumbledore's lips as he savoured the familiarity of Alfred's words. "Ah, yes, those were extraordinary times indeed," Dumbledore replied, his voice brimming with affection and nostalgia. "But today, my dear friend, we must delve into matters of profound significance. May I step across the threshold and share the weight of my concerns?"
Alfred's perceptive gaze met Dumbledore's, a silent affirmation of unwavering trust and understanding. "Of course, Albus," he responded, his voice a soothing balm to Dumbledore's troubled soul. "Enter, and let us unveil the tapestry of destiny that has brought us together once more."
As Dumbledore crossed the threshold, a sense of tranquillity washed over him, for within Alfred's humble abode lay the haven of trust and discretion he so desperately sought. Shadows whispered secrets, and the air crackled with an undercurrent of anticipation, as if the very walls harbored knowledge of their clandestine mission.
"Alfred, my esteemed confidant," Dumbledore's voice resonated with gravitas and urgency, "I beseech your wisdom and unwavering loyalty in a matter of utmost import." Dumbledore's voice reverberated through the room, carrying the weight of the world upon its sonorous timbre. "Alfred, my esteemed confidant," he continued, "I beseech your wisdom and unwavering loyalty in a matter of utmost import."
Alfred, ever the perceptive soul, nodded knowingly, his eyes gleaming with an unspoken vow of allegiance. "Speak, Albus, for I sense that the very threads of fate have woven a tapestry of destiny, guiding our paths to intertwine once more."
A flicker of gratitude danced in Dumbledore's eyes as he took a moment to appreciate the profound bond of understanding that had endured the tests of time. "Indeed, my friend," he responded, his voice carrying a solemn weight, "We stand on the precipice of an extraordinary journey—one that demands the melding of our expertise and the shrouding of secrets in a delicate dance of Muggle perception."
A moment of contemplative silence enveloped the room as Alfred absorbed Dumbledore's words. Then, with a determined resolve, he spoke, his voice laced with conviction. "Albus, fear not, for I shall don the facade of the ordinary, shielding our mission in the garb of Muggle mundanity. And you, my friend, must cloak yourself in a semblance of normality to navigate the intricate dance of this dual existence."
Dumbledore's eyes glimmered with gratitude and admiration as he regarded Alfred. "You possess the rare combination of medical mastery and the gift of understanding the Muggle world. With your guidance, we shall navigate the treacherous waters that lie ahead."
And so, while Alfred retreated to his chamber to don an inconspicuous guise, Dumbledore's mind swirled with the intricacies of his plan. How would he navigate the perilous path that lay before him, entwined with the enigma that was the Dursley family? Their animosity toward magic threatened to shatter young Harry's nascent hope and plunge him into the abyss of isolation. Lost in thought, Dumbledore's musings were interrupted by Alfred's return.
"Dumbledore, my dear friend," Alfred's voice carried a tinge of concern, "If our purpose is to interact with Muggles, it is imperative that our appearance aligns with their mundane sensibilities."
Grateful for Alfred's astuteness, Dumbledore nodded in agreement. With a wave of his wand, he summoned forth his considerable magical prowess, transforming his resplendent robes into a more understated ensemble, mirroring Alfred's unassuming attire.
"There, my friend," Dumbledore remarked with a sense of satisfaction, "Now we stand as two ordinary men, yet armed with extraordinary knowledge and purpose."
Alfred's eyes gleamed with a mixture of determination and unwavering loyalty. "Indeed, Albus," he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of magic, "Together, we shall weave a web of secrecy, guarding the delicate balance between the magical realm and the realm of the Muggles."
And with that, Albus Dumbledore and Alfred Anderson, two figures entwined in the tapestry of destiny, embarked upon a perilous journey, where magic and mundanity converged in a symphony of concealment and revelation.
Dumbledore extended a hand towards Alfred, beckoning him to apparate by his side. With a flicker of light, they materialized amidst the concealing foliage near Privet Drive, their arrival shrouded from prying eyes. As they ventured towards Number 4, Dumbledore shared the purpose of their visit with Alfred, who nodded knowingly, understanding the necessity of secrecy and his integral role in the unfolding events.
A resolute knock echoed through the door of Number 4, a harbinger of the arduous and protracted discussion that lay ahead with the Dursleys. The door swung open, revealing a distracted Mrs. Dursley, her surprise palpable at the sight of Dumbledore gracing her threshold. Recognizing the formidable figure before her, memories of her pleas to attend Hogwarts for Lily flooded her thoughts, and she connected the dots, comprehending the presence of her nephew on this fateful morning.
"What do you want, Dumbledore? Are you here to take Lily's son away? You know we want nothing to do with your kind," Petunia interjected, her words laden with a mixture of defiance and unease.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with grandfatherly warmth, his voice measured and calm. "Allow me to explain the circumstances surrounding young Harry's presence on your doorstep and the tragic demise of his mother, your sister. If you would kindly grant us entry, we must ensure our conversation remains shielded from prying ears, don't you agree?" he responded, his smile exuding a sense of understanding and empathy.
Reluctantly, Petunia acquiesced, escorting them to the sitting area. With her task of appeasing Vernon, she sought to quell the mounting storm within her husband upon witnessing the presence of wizards within their home.
"Vernon, the headmaster has come to shed light on Lily's untimely demise and shed some clarity on the appearance of her son on our doorstep," Petunia relayed, her voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and urgency.
Vernon's complexion shifted from pallor to crimson, his face contorting comically as a storm brewed within him.
"Very well, let's meet these individual and rid ourselves of this...freak," he muttered through clenched teeth.
Petunia winced at the derogatory term, her familial bond with Lily long faded, yet her nephew remained the sole remnant of their shared bloodline. At just fifteen months old, Harry was but an innocent babe, and despite her tenuous connection to him, a sliver of protectiveness stirred within her.
As Vernon stormed into the sitting room, his demeanour akin to a raging tempest, he pointed an accusatory finger at the two men before him, his voice booming with ire.
"Listen to me, you freaks! We want nothing to do with your unnatural world. Take that other freak with you! We will not tolerate anything abnormal within our home! Take him away and let us live our lives!" Vernon bellowed, his voice reverberating through the room, his finger threateningly close to Dumbledore's aged countenance.
Dumbledore felt a sense of relief, reassured that his decision to visit and assess Harry's living conditions had been the right one. He knew that the Dursleys would not shower Harry with love, but he had hoped for a liveable and safer environment. However, the glares he received confirmed his fears that Harry's childhood would be far from happy, mirroring the experiences of another unfortunate boy. Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore addressed Vernon with a firm yet composed tone.
"Mr. Dursley, I understand your reluctance to associate with our kind. However, if you would be so kind as to grant me a few moments to discuss something of utmost importance for the well-being of your family..."
Upon hearing this, Vernon's anger surged once again. He understood the need to tread carefully when dealing with these unconventional individuals, masking his fear behind a veneer of aggression.
"Are you threatening us? Invading the home of law-abiding citizens, making veiled threats against my family, and forcing your peculiar lot upon us?" Vernon shouted, his fist clenched, as if ready to strike.
Dumbledore, maintaining his calm and soothing voice, reassured him, "No, Mr. Dursley. There are circumstances that I must explain regarding the tragic deaths of your late sister-in-law and her husband. If you would kindly allow me to elucidate these details to Mrs. Dursley, it would require just a fraction of your time."
Pausing for a moment, he let his words sink in before continuing, "I intend to place Harry with another family from our community, one that will welcome him with open arms. However, I must caution you that this decision may inadvertently expose your family to certain risks arising from the unique circumstances of our magical world."
Dumbledore, at the venerable age of 110, possessed a profound understanding of human psychology. He knew that with enough conviction, even the most extraordinary tales could be believed. While the wizarding world knew of Lily Potter's Muggle origins, they remained oblivious to the existence of her family.
"What nonsense are you babbling about? We want nothing to do with your peculiar world," Vernon retorted disdainfully. Just as Vernon's anger escalated, Petunia entered the room, having overheard their heated exchange. Petunia was well aware of Vernon's explosive temper and had previously eavesdropped on his conversation with the Headmaster. Lily had mentioned an extremist group akin to the Ku Klux Klan, which targeted those without magical parentage, deeming them subhuman. Petunia felt an overpowering need to protect her family from such threats. Placing a gentle hand on Vernon's shoulder, she turned to Dumbledore and pleaded, her voice softening.
"Vernon, perhaps we should listen to what he has to say first. Once we have all the information, we can make an informed decision."
Vernon, not without reason, yearned for a normal life devoid of "freaks." However, he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that Petunia possessed an uncanny intuition. Her sixth sense had safeguarded him from financial losses and professional setbacks on numerous occasions. He recalled a recent deal that could have led to substantial losses for his company and jeopardized his own position. Petunia's warning had saved the day. Although he sometimes questioned her claims of being normal, given her relation to Lily, she had never maintained contact with her sister or any other magical beings. Trusting in his wife's instincts, Vernon reluctantly nodded, his gaze shifting from Dumbledore to his pocket watch.
"Very well, Dumbledore. You have thirty minutes to explain yourself. We are hard-working people, and I have an office to attend in an hour and a half. Unlike you, we can't conjure food or money out of thin air. We rely on hard work for that."
With a warm smile, Dumbledore gestured for them to take a seat. Reluctantly, Vernon nodded, and they settled on the couch and chairs. Dumbledore began to explain the intricacies of Voldemort's war, carefully interjecting muggle references to ensure Vernon's comprehension. As Dumbledore's explanation progressed, Vernon caught glimpses of the wizarding world, connecting them with the tidbits of information Petunia had shared.
"So, we can just up and move to Australia or the United States, leaving the freak with his own kind?" Vernon exclaimed, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
Dealing with fools like Vernon was a regular occurrence for Dumbledore. However, he knew how to handle them. With a resigned sigh, he responded, "Yes, you could do that, but magic has ways of tracking individuals. If you're in another country, I won't be able to provide any assistance."
As soon as Dumbledore uttered those words, Vernon's complexion changed once again. Dumbledore knew he had Vernon right where he wanted him. Half-truths were often useful, especially if they could provide Harry with a semblance of a family and protect him from other threats. He was aware of the methods to trace individuals through bloodlines, known to a select few wizards, including himself, in wizarding Britain.
Arcturus Black, Abraxas Malfoy, and Voldemort. Out of those four, Voldemort and Abraxas were either deceased or incapable of performing magic, and Arcturus would never spare a glance for any Muggle-born, let alone Muggles. Vernon remained oblivious to this information, and Dumbledore had no intention of enlightening him. Greed was Vernon's weakness, and with the right amount of money, he could be swayed to agree to Dumbledore's terms.
"I can place protective enchantments around your house, using the blood of Harry and Petunia. For them to be effective, Harry must consider this house his home and develop some attachment or affection towards it. I understand that raising Harry will pose a financial burden for you, but I will make arrangements for his upbringing," Dumbledore addressed Vernon, his smile unwavering.
Dumbledore knew well that Vernon would not utilize the money for Harry's benefit alone.
"Rest assured, the funds will be allocated solely for Harry's needs. I will personally visit monthly to provide the necessary financial support. You will be under constant surveillance for both your safety and to ensure that no harm befalls Harry," Dumbledore declared, drawing his wand. This direct approach was not his usual style, but he was resolute in his determination to ensure Harry's proper upbringing.
"If you agree to the terms, I can pay you a sum of £300 for the month, along with an additional £400 to ensure you can purchase any other essentials young Harry may require. As for Harry's medical treatment and vaccines, you need not worry. His education will be taken care of until his eleventh birthday," Dumbledore proposed, his words laced with a hint of mischief, which did not escape the notice of those present.
"Very well, but if the boy misbehaves or fails to listen, he shall face the consequences like any normal child would," Vernon replied with newfound confidence.
"You will be his guardian, as you are entitled to do so. However, I must make it clear that any form of physical or mental abuse will not be tolerated. You will be dealt with by the proper authorities if such acts are discovered," Dumbledore asserted firmly.
Alfred found himself taken aback by Dumbledore's peculiar demeanor. It was as if the headmaster had assumed an entirely different persona. Alfred considered two possibilities: either Dumbledore possessed a deep and genuine care for the boy, or there was someone else masquerading as the esteemed wizard. The latter seemed more likely, a mere jest to toy with their perceptions.
"Now that everything appears to be settled, I would like to examine Harry's health with the assistance of my companion, Alfred," Dumbledore declared, his tone commanding and authoritative.
Before Vernon could retort, his wife intervened. "Harry is currently sleeping in his upstairs bedroom, nestled in his basket with Dudley, my son," Petunia offered, hoping to alleviate the mounting tension. She was well aware that the amount of money Dumbledore was offering exceeded their immediate needs for raising Harry until he turned four, and she could see that Vernon had caught onto this fact.
"If you would be so kind as to lead us to the bedroom, we can proceed with our examination of Harry," Dumbledore requested, his tone carrying an air of expectation.
With a nod of her head, Petunia led the two gentlemen to her son's bedroom.
The room appeared quite ordinary, with two slumbering boys in their respective places. Harry lay peacefully in his basket, while his blond-haired cousin bore a striking resemblance to someone Dumbledore had known in the past. As they approached Harry, Alfred took the lead, proceeding to scan the fifteen-month-old infant. He intended to examine and assess the baby's magical core, but suddenly, the other boy began to cry.
Petunia, positioned just behind the doctor attending to her nephew, hurried past the man. In her haste, her elbow brushed forcefully against the hand holding the wand, unintentionally redirecting its focus from her nephew to her own son. Unaware of her action, she swiftly scooped up her crying child.
Alfred, having witnessed his spell cast upon Harry's cousin, anxiously awaited the outcome. To his astonishment, the child exhibited signs of magic. To confirm his suspicions, he repeated the spell on the boy, receiving a positive result. This development was noticed by Dumbledore, who wore a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he asked Alfred a question.
"Is it as I suspect, Alfred?"
Turning to face Dumbledore, Alfred responded, "I am quite certain of it, but allow me to verify before drawing any conclusions."
Petunia, perplexed by the wizards' conversation, struggled to console her crying Dudley.
Observing her state of confusion, Alfred approached the blond boy and addressed Petunia, "Mrs. Dursley, may I conduct some scans on your son? I assure you, it will not harm him. I simply wish to gather more information before arriving at any conclusions."
Petunia felt a surge of fear. She had no idea what was happening or why these men wanted to examine her son. Her confusion was on the verge of promoting a refusal when Vernon, who had hurried into the room upon hearing Dudley's cries, interrupted her. "Petunia, let him examine Dudley," he urged, his face etched with fear. Petunia glanced at Vernon's expression, sensing his dread. His countenance revealed that he anticipated grave news, not the kind of fear one would have if Dumbledore were merely explaining potential dangers they might face soon.
With permission granted, Alfred began casting standard spells typically employed on magical infants. After a few minutes of diagnosis, he turned to Dumbledore and locked eyes, seeking his approval. Upon receiving a subtle nod from the Headmaster, Alfred addressed the Dursleys.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, your son is a wizard."
Author's Note: Dumbledore is consider one of the smartest wizard in the wizarding world . So he definitely has knowledge about currency. Not in the sense of conversion rate but at least its name.
If you think he is not like that of canon than go read he JKR Harry potter. I will portray him as I like.
Cut me slack regarding the allowance offered I am 21 and have no idea about raising child and not from UK .
Need Beta for the story.