Prologue
November 1, 1981 was an altogether unextraordinary day for the residents of Privet Drive. They rolled out their bins for the recycling, and said a polite "good morning" to any neighbours they encountered. This normalcy was unknowingly interrupted that night, by a stiff tabby cat, a tall oddly dressed old man, and a shadowy figure lurking in the bushes opposite Number 4 Privet Drive.
A low rumbling sound broke the eerie silence of Privet Drive, causing the figure in the bushes to roll his eyes as he saw a motorcycle descend from the sky towards the old man and the cat-turned-woman.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir." [scs]
The figure in the bushes looked confused at this. The Sirius Black he knew wouldn't give up his bloody flying motorcycle for all the galleons in Gringotts… unless he was about to do something reckless.
By the time they tuned back into the conversation, the giant, Hagrid was wailing, not unlike the baby that had been placed on the doorstep, and Minerva McGonagall was ushering him back onto the motorcycle before his sobs woke any muggles.
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
As Dumbledore turned away to restore light to Privet Drive, the figure in the bushes inched closer to this small child who had supposedly saved all of Wizarding Britain. But as he drew closer, he felt sick to his stomach. There was familiar dark magic all but radiating from the small bundle on the doorstep, choking the figure's senses like a thick, toxic fog.
Whipping around quickly to ensure that Dumbledore was gone, the figure made a split second decision. He snatched up the baby, basket, letter and all, and turned on the spot, disappearing with a soft pop.
At that very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!" not knowing that the boy who lived, had disappeared from right under their noses.
—–-–—
At a small cottage in the Welsh countryside, the shadowy figure from Privet Drive was staring down at the chubby form of a baby Harry Potter. He had raised his wand towards the child several times in the last hour, but despite how many he had killed in the past years, he couldn't bring himself to murder an innocent baby.
He leaned in close, face to face with the small child who reach up and tugged on a lock of his hair… hard.
"Pa'foo!" squealed the child.
The figure jumped away scowling, "Absolutely not, you silly child." However when Harry's bottom lip began to quiver, he sighed and picked up the child so it could play with his hair more easily.
Regulus Black sighed as he realised the mess he was inviting into his home, and glanced at the child happily playing with his long hair.
"I suppose I can keep you around until I figure out what to do with you."
"Ahh! Pa'foo!"
"No."
*Some quotes from Philosophers Stone included*
A/N: A new (maybe) twist on an old idea! Please review (even if just to say hi) , and follow!