Warnings: Abuse

Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter. All associated characters and situations belong to J.K. Rowling. We claim no rights to the cover of the story and give credit to it's creator.

A/N: We would like to point out this story will eventually be slash. It won't officially happen until later books, however, that is the direction of the series.


When one thinks of Private Drive it is usually described as such; Meticulous, pristine, orderly and all in all spectacularly ordinary. As it were, nothing of consequence ever happened in Private Drive. Sure, there was the occasional uncomfortable Christmas party and Mr. Davis once set part of his lawn aflame during one of his infamous cookouts, but nothing of any significant importance had ever really occurred. That is, until now.

One night, seemingly just as mundane as the rest, finds Albus Dumbledore apparating to Private Drive. One may wonder why, at such a late hour, there was cause for so much urgency. A mysterious object is pulled out from inside the many folds of his robes, and as it is raised, the streetlights go out one by one. Off to one side of the street, a cat sits attentively on the garden wall, watching the elderly man with long white hair coupled with an equally long white beard; the color of his hair, a sharp contrast to the darkness that so suddenly engulfed Private Drive mere moments ago.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore nods curtly toward the feline. The tabby jumps from the wall and shifts suddenly into an elderly woman dressed in long green robes. "Good evening, professor Dumbledore." Minerva McGonagall replied in greeting.

"Are the rumours true, Albus?" the stern faced professor continued. Dumbledore nods solemnly, "I'm afraid so," he paused, "the good and the bad." McGonagall's face falls, "I didn't want to believe it… James and Lily… I can't believe..." Her companion patted her shoulder, in an attempt to comfort the woman, "I know… I know." He acknowledges, dejected. "And the boy?" she asks. "I've sent Hagrid to retrieve him," Albus states. "Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something so important?" she asks in curiosity and maybe a bit of worry. "I would trust Hagrid with my life," the elder replied in complete confidence.

Suddenly the growling roar of a vehicle pierced the sullen silence that followed the two's grim conversation. They looked to the sky to see a bright light barrelling toward them. As the vehicle comes closer, it is identified as a large motorcycle carrying an even larger man. As the motorcycle lands, the man steps onto the darkened street. He is a tall man with a scruffy looking beard. The man is wearing a large overcoat which makes his already imposing figure even more unnerving. In his arms, he cradles a small child with a tenderness that betrays his caring disposition.

"Professors," the giant of a man greets happily. "There was no trouble, I hope, Hagrid?" the headmaster questioned. "None, sir. The little one fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol. Try not to wake 'im" Hagrid replied in a hush.

The man, who has now been identified as Hagrid, presents the sleeping child to Dumbledore and McGonagall. The two exchange relieved looks at the safe transportation of the child. The child that unknowingly saved the wizarding world; The child whose name will go down in history; The child who will forever be marked as The Boy Who Lived.

Dumbledore gently lifts the boy from Hagrid's arms and cradles him to his chest protectively.

"Albus," Minerva starts, "do you really think this is the best choice, leaving him with these people. I've watched them all day. They are the worst sort of muggles imaginable! Just this morning I watched the son kick his mother for not being given candy as soon as he asked and instead of telling him off, she bent down and gave into his demands," she told him incredulously. She then went on, "they really are-" only to be cut off.

"The only family he has left," Dumbledor interrupts. "This boy will be famous, everyone in our world will know his name!" the younger professor continues, hoping to convince the elder to change his mind. "Exactly, he's better growing up away from all of that." Albus states, dashing her hopes.

The Headmaster leaves the sleeping babe on the porch of Number 4 as Hagrid starts to sniffle, "there, there Hagrid, it's not goodbye after all," the headmaster comforts for a second time that night before placing a note with the babe, addressed to the residents of the home.

"Good luck, Harry Potter!"

A/N: My best friend and I have been reading fanfiction for years now and decided to write one of our own. This is our first one so we welcome any criticism but hope that you will keep in mind it is our FIRST story. It will be posted on both of our profiles so you can go to her account to find it as well.This story will also be cross-posted on Ao3 and Wattpad.

Lots of love,

FreerSpirit and RavenGrey2107