After he and Godzilla had defeated Gigan and Megalon in 1973, Jet Jaguar had set out to wander the world righting wrongs, vanquishing evil, and fighting crime. Being a robot with the ability to change its size at will had numerous advantages in advancing the cause of justice, and being able to fly at three-and-a-half times the speed of sound meant that there were few places he could not go to pursue evildoers.

One such pursuit – sadly unrelated to our story – led him to jolly old England where he beheld a sight strange even to a robot that had helped Godzilla perform a dropkick; a giant man riding a flying motorcycle across the skies. Confused and more than a little intrigued he followed at a distance, landing just out of visual range as the motorcycle touched down on a darkened street.

Jet Jaguar was only barely able to the see the three figures outside what his internal map determined to be Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, since he could not use his eye-lights to avoid exposure (he had put off the night-vision upgrade long-enough, he would have to install it soon), but he heard a conversation that he could only conclude was in code, as he heard multiple references to "Muggles" a word that did not exist in any language he knew of.

Regardless, he observed the three oddly dressed people until he saw yet more bizarre sights. First the giant man departed, riding into the sky on the motorcycle, then the next figure, seemed to transform into a cat which walked around the corner out of the robot's field of vision, and finally the last person appeared to… "release" for lack of a better term… the lights from the streetlights, revealing himself to be an incredibly strangely dressed man with an incredibly long beard, before vanishing into thin air.

After seeing such strange things, Jet Jaguar wanted desperately to perform a number of diagnostic scans, but his first priority was the bundle in front of the door. To his surprise the bundle was a baby! What kind of irresponsible people would leave a baby out on the cold night of Octo– November first as of one second ago? It couldn't be more than a few months old.

As he lifted the bundle to take it to the hospital, an envelope fell out. The robot wanted to ensure the baby's health and safety, but he needed to know why it had been left here of all places. He set the baby down and picked up the envelope.

His scans detected no contaminants on the paper… no, the parchment. How odd. He created a new internal casefile for this and filed that information away for later. He unfurled the parchment and read it. He came to the conclusion that whoever had written was at best insane, and at worst part of a cult. Between and betwixt the bizarre names and titles, multiple references to "Death Eaters," witches, wizards, a "dark lord" someone named Dumbledore (another oddity, the only birth certificate on record for any Dumbledore dated back to 1881, which could not possibly be correct), had decided to place the baby with his mother's next of kin ostensibly for "blood protection."

Jet Jaguar took a moment to decipher this information. From what he was able to determine, a pair of cults had fought a gang war of sorts, and this baby's whole family had been made a target, yet this Dumbledore figure – who insane or not fancied himself someone important with all the nonsensical titles preceding his name – thought to put the child with his aunt, one of the first places anyone of any competence would look, and by abandoning him on a doorstep in the dead of a cold winter night. It was madness!

Jet Jaguar stood there, holding the baby, as he struggled to make a decision. This was not a dilemma he had come across in his seven years of travel. Dumbledore might be insane, but according to his letter this "Voldemort" (undoubtedly a pseudonym) and his followers (the aforementioned "Death Eaters") had been killing people by the hundreds for years… and yet in scanning his data on events in the UK for the past decade, Jet Jaguar could find nothing about them. These writings could just be the ramblings of a madman, but Jet Jaguar had uncovered more than one conspiracy in the last seven years. He could not take the risk. The baby had to be protected. And there was only one place on Earth that had proven itself impregnable in Jet Jaguar's eyes, but first, he needed to go to the store.

A robot carrying a baby into a 24/7 store and purchasing baby products is not a common sight. Nor is said robot purchasing two plane tickets to Japan, but Jet Jaguar had become somewhat famous during the last decade, so, while people gawked, they did not interfere. After all, he was not just a robot that could change its size – he was also a karate master.

Once in Japan and outside of any buildings, Jet Jaguar took off, heading for Monster Island at the highest speed he could without harming the infant. The island had few humans, mostly determined National Geographic photographers and budding kaijuologists, although some had proposed creating a dedicated research facility. The sheer number of monsters that had congregated there made most people consider any long term occupation an elaborate form of suicide, but Jet Jaguar could communicate with the monsters.

It was for that reason he was heading for Mothra's den.

To call it a grotto would be inaccurate, as it was too large and open, but there was no better word for it. It was close to the sea, which was to the current larva's liking. The other humans on the island were a group of Mothra's worshippers, having come from Infant Island to worship the second of the twin larvae. Though not normally the most welcoming to outsiders, the Infant Islanders were almost fond of Jet Jaguar because, apart from the Shobijin, he was the only one capable of directly communicating with their goddess.

Speaking of the Shobijin, they were also on Monster Island at the moment. As Mothra's priestesses, they now found themselves traveling between islands quite frequently now that there were two Mothras, and so a strange conversation began.

Jet Jaguar spoke via his strange form of sign language to Mothra about the baby and the madness in the letter, and she relayed it to the Shobijin, who, while concerned about the child, asked why the robot had brought him here. It was then that Jet Jaguar explained his idea.

Because these "Death Eaters" and their master were apparently still at large and very good at hiding, Jet Jaguar wanted the child to be raised in the one place no one had ever dared to attack: Monster Island. Specifically, his plan was for the child to be adopted by one or more kaiju, so that he could live on the island without fear, while Jet Jaguar and the proper authorities went on the hunt for the cult.

It was, to use an overused phrase, so crazy it just might work. There was only one problem. While Mothra gave the idea her blessing, meaning baby Harry would always be welcome among the Infant Islander's and on Infant Island itself, Monster Island was another story. For on Monster Island Godzilla's word was law, and though time had softened his view of humans enough that he defended their cities, adopting one would be another matter entirely.

Still, they would make the attempt. Mothra, Jet Jaguar, and with him baby Harry, set out for the red water lake in the island's interior where Godzilla made his home.

Godzilla was less than pleased. Time had not made him so soft that he would take in human offspring. He had nearly rejected the proposal when he, the larva, and the robot, all heard strange cooing noises. All three turned to look and saw Minilla, the son of Godzilla, making faces and noises at the tiny infant, making it giggle.

Godzilla let out a grunt of mingled defeat and resignation and placed a hand against his face in a surprisingly human-looking motion. Minilla liked the baby, and while Godzilla could be strict, he was a doting father. If Minilla wanted a baby human for a playmate, so be it.

And so it was that Harry Potter's life as an adoptive kaiju began.