Minerva knocked on the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, once again in her suit with a large carpetbag over her arm. A delivery truck stood in the street in front of the house.

Petunia answered the door, looking rather haggard. Her hair was no longer as neatly coiffed as it had been that morning. Her shirt had been pulled from her skirt on one side with the tail hanging loose. Seeing the other woman and the delivery men, she quickly tucked her shirt back in and ran her hands over her hair to smooth it out.

"I have the things I said I would bring for the baby," Minerva told her. "Just let us know where to take the crib and other furniture."

"What? We don't have a room for the child," Petunia protested. "We can't keep him. We won't keep him, rather."

"Mrs. Dursley, as I said before, you have no choice. Now, would you rather direct us to a room, or shall I find one myself?"

"You'll do no such thing!"

"Fine then, we can do this the hard way," Minerva said and turned to the men by the truck. "Grab the boxes and follow me, gentlemen."

She waited until they were right behind her, and then she pushed her way past Petunia, who couldn't find it in herself to argue in front of the men, particularly in view of the other houses, where other stay-at-home mothers and wives might be peeking out their windows.

Minerva went straight to the stairs and began to climb. At the top, she peered into each room. Finding one with a twin bed but nothing else, she directed the men. "Right in here, gentlemen. Please slide the bed to the wall and set the crib up there, the changing table there, and the chest next to the table. Then please bring in the high chair and safety seat. We'll move them down the hall. Mrs. Dursley, why don't we go to the kitchen? You look as if you could use a cup of tea." She set the carpetbag down in a corner of the room.

Petunia stood in the doorway of her spare room, looking angry and befuddled. McGonagall placed a hand on her upper arm and gently nudged her to turn.

"Tea," she prompted.

"Yes, tea," Petunia said in a daze.

"While you do that, I'll check on Harry, shall I?"

"Yes, yes."

"Might I inquire as to his location?"

Petunia shook her head vigorously as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and she rounded on the other woman, her face red with fury. "What do you think you're doing? What gives you the right to come into my home and make changes? How dare you speak to me as if you're better than I am! How in the world am I going to explain this to Vernon? The neighbors, what will the neighbors think? They've seen the delivery men. If I don't keep the boy, they'll want to know what happened. You set me up. You did this on purpose!" What had begun as a whispered tirade was edging towards shrieking.

"If you are so worried about the neighbors, I'd lower your voice, Mrs. Dursley."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Petunia snapped. "You have no control over me, and if you dare to try to spell me or use one of your crazy potions, I'll report you."

Minerva clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth before replying. "Where is Harry?"

"In there." Petunia stabbed her hand in the direction of the front room.

McGonagall entered the room to find Harry alone in the room in a playpen with nothing. The other child was nowhere in sight. There were no toys, not even a blanket for the boy. She sighed, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, she conjured a blanket and stuffed bear that she gave to the boy. Crouching down next to the playpen, she ran her hand over his head. Brushing his hair back, she spotted the scar Albus had told her about.

"Oh little one," she whispered. "Only a year old, and what a life you've already had."

"Mumma, Mumma," Harry cooed.

Heart-wrenching, she picked him up and held him tight. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I know you want your mum. I can't change that, but I am going to do everything I can to be sure you're safe and well cared for, I promise."

The professor moved to put the child down again in the playpen, but he began to fuss, so she picked him up and held him tight, with his head resting on her shoulder, rubbing his back. Murmuring to him, she walked down the hall to the kitchen, where she found Petunia hanging up the phone. Before either woman could say anything, the kettle began to whistle.

Minerva took a seat at the table and settled the boy into her lap. She accepted the tea that Petunia handed her and took a small sip before placing it well out of Harry's reach. He didn't even try; he simply clung to the small bear and sucked on a thumb. Minerva waited for the other woman to say something, anything, but Petunia remained silent.

It wasn't long, and Harry's head began to drop. Minerva again waited for the other woman to do something, but Petunia didn't acknowledge the boy; instead, she turned to her son, placed a biscuit on his high chair tray, and began cooing to him. "Oh, my little Dudley-udems, what a good boy you are."

Minerva stood with the boy and went back down the hallway and up the stairs to find that the delivery men were just finishing up.

"Ah, that must be the little lad this is meant for," one man whispered.

"I remember when my own were that small," another commented in a low voice. "Well, we'll be off then."

"Thank you, gentlemen."

"Not a problem, ma'am."

When the men had left, she placed Harry down in the crib with the bear and then covered him lightly with a blanket. Stepping back, she pulled out her wand and began speaking softly, gesturing around the room. She then turned to the crib and waved her wand over the child. When she finished, she slipped the wand back into its holder, patted the boy gently on the back, and moved to the small dresser in the corner of the room. She pulled item after item of clothing from the bag she had left on the floor earlier and filled the drawers. She then filled the changing table with diapers and wipes. Satisfied, she again looked at the child, then turned and left the room, returning to the kitchen.

"Get that thing out of our house right now," came the booming voice of Vernon Dursley as she stepped into the room.

"Vernon, you're upsetting Duddems," Petunia scolded her husband as their son began to wail.

"See what you're doing by bringing that freak into this house?" he bellowed as his wife picked up their son and bounced him, cooing and singing to him, attempting to calm him and instead making him scream louder. She bit back her own shriek when the child grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled.

"Sir, your house is the safest place for the child, whose name is Harry, by the way, and that is how you should address him."

"He will not stay in this house!"

Minerva took a deep breath. "I would like nothing more than to take him away from here; however, this is where he is safest. You have a letter from Albus Dumbledore saying the same thing. Harry will live here. I will be returning to check in on him every weekend to be sure that there is nothing additional needed for his care."

"You people are not welcome in my home!"

"I will be sure that you will not be found by other witches or-"

"Don't use those words-"

"In your house?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and staring the man down until he finally faded just a bit. Using her best teacher voice, she continued. "I will be sure that other witches and wizards do not randomly come to your house. You will care for the child as if he were your own, and I will know if you do not. I will return on Saturday to assess the situation. If need be, I will hire a nanny to care for the boy, but he will live here until further notice. Now, I must return to Hogwarts and my students."

Neither of the Dursleys said a word or followed her to the door. She didn't stop when she reached the front step; she simply kept walking to the sidewalk, then down the street and up the walk to another house, where she stopped for just a moment to gather her thoughts before knocking on the door.

"Hello," said the tiny woman who opened the door.

"Ms. Figg?"

"Yes," the lady replied. "Are you here to see the cats? I don't recall having any appointments today."

"No, ma'am," Minerva said. "I needed to speak with you about something else, something private."

Arabella looked over the woman on her front step and nodded. She stepped back, allowed the other woman to pass her, then closed the door. "I don't have any kneazles ready to be taken to new homes right now."

"Oh no, it's not that. I apologize. I failed to introduce myself. I am Minerva McGonagall."

"The head of Gryffindor and transfiguration teacher. I believe you are also an Animagus, and your animal form is a cat." Arabella smiled. "Bea loved to tell me stories of Hogwarts when she was home on school breaks. She wrote me a letter after you showed the class your transformation. The owls come to my back window, and she only sends them at night so that they don't stand out. Oh my, I'm quite rattling on, aren't I? I haven't had a visitor in quite some time."

Minerva smiled. "Have you had a letter from Albus Dumbledore?"

"Oh, just a few days ago, that poor little boy. The Dursleys are not people I normally interact with, but for that baby, I will."

"Thank you, that's incredibly kind of you. I have been to their house to be certain they are set up to take care of Harry. I wanted to ask you if you are connected to the Floo network. I know it's allowed in Muggle homes, but-"

"But I'm not technically a Muggle," Arabella frowned.

"I apologize-"

Ms. Figg waved her hand and shook her head. "I've long since made my peace with being a Squib. I still speak to my siblings, and I have met my nieces and nephew. I do my part for both worlds by raising cats and kneazles. It's not all bad. Muggles have created so many things to do what witches and wizards do with magic. And once again, I'm going on. No, sadly, I am not connected to the Floo. Even though my family had requested it, the ministry wouldn't approve. Rather, they have protected my back garden with several charms, including a sound dampener, so when they visit, they apparate there and come through the back door."

"Would it be acceptable for me to use your back garden to apparate as well, provided I send you an owl the evening before?" Minerva asked.

"Certainly. Though if it is an emergency having to do with the young lad, pop in whenever you need."

"Ms. Figg, I appreciate that. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, nothing," Arabella replied.

"Are you sure? I feel as if I should recompense you for using your house as a waypoint," Minerva said.

"Well…"

"Yes?"

"It's silly," Arabella said with a giggle.

"I highly doubt that."

"Well, one of the things I miss the most from the magical world is the candy. I haven't had a chocolate frog or a sugar quill in decades. I never ask my sister or brother; I wouldn't want them to feel guilty or anything like that. It took us several years after they graduated from Hogwarts and moved out into your world to be comfortable again. They always worried I would feel left out, and I did for a while. As I said, I am at peace with it now. Still, there are little things I miss like the candy."

"I will bring you sweets when I come through again," Minerva told the woman. "That will most likely be at the end of the week, though I will let you know the night before I promise.."

"Oh, wonderful. I'll see you then."

McGonagall nodded and followed the directions the other woman gave her to the back garden where she apparated away.