WARNING: THIS IS A CRACK FIC, THERE IS CHARACTER DEATH. THIS IS MEANT OT BE A JOKE. NO BASHING PLEASE.

I most certainly do not own Harry Potter, much to my disappointment.

September 1st, 1991

Potions Master Severus Snape marched up the spiral staircase that lead to the Headmaster's, Dumbledore's, office. He had just returned from a mission the headmaster had sent him on. Locating the Potter boy. Snape had succeeded in doing just that and he had some questions for the headmaster.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" Snape bellowed in a voice usually reserved for making first year Hufflepuffs pee their pants. "What in the bloody hell were you thinking?! Leaving a fifteen month old baby on a door step? Are you crazy?!- No, don't answer that, I already know the answer."

"Ahh, Severus. Lemmon Drop? How did your mission go?"

Severus stared at the old man like he was crazy. "Albus, I hate those bloody things, when will you learn?Again, do not answer, I know that you will never. Now answer my question- Where did you place to iota of common sense you must have in the sugar rotten brain of yours when you left a toddler on a doorstep? Hmmm?" At this point, Snape had one of his nastiest glares on. Dumbledore was unaffected. Perhaps the old coot was blind as well as senile.

"Why Severus, Harry was only a baby, he couldn't have gone anywhere. Now, have you found out what is keeping him?"

"Only a baby. ONLY A BABY! He was fifteen months old you-you- halfwitted imbecilic moron! Ohh, I give up. Read this, and see what trouble could 'only a baby' could get into being left on a porch step, alone, in the middle of the night." With this he drew a old newspaper out of his cloak pocket and slammed it down.

"Severus, why are you handing me old bits of paper? Where is Potter-"

"READ-THE-PAPER-NOW" Snape spat out through gritted teeth. You could see the vein in his forehead was pulsing, like it was about to explode.

Surrey times

Novembert 2nd, 1981

Baby killed by milk truck- identity of youngster unknown

Yesterday morning emergency crews were summoned to number four Privet Drive. The reason, the milk truck making it's morning rounds had run over an infant. The driver quickly knocked on the nearest door, which happened to be the door of the Dursley family. Said Mrs. Dursley " I was woken up at an ungodly hour to this awful racket. When I went to answer the door, I opened it to find our milk man in hysterics. The only words I really understood was 'baby...hit... And call 000'. So I did just that."

Authorities arrived with due speed and rushed the babe to the nearest hospital. The child arrived and was pronounced in serious condition. He was suffering from a severe concussion, cerebral edema, numerous broken ribs and miscellaneous other bones, and internal bleeding. He was rushed to emergency surgery to try and save him, however after two hours of grueling work the child was pronounced dead at seven fourteen am, on November the first of 1981.

To make matters worse, no one was able to identify the child. None of the residents had ever seen the child before, and no children matching his description had been reported missing in the entirety of the British Isles. The child, approximately fifteen to seventeen months old, with two upper incisors, black hair and green eyes, was wearing stripped blue footsie pajamas. A baby blue blanket was found on the scene with the initials HJP sewn in the corner. This is the only clue to identifying the poor child. Authorities ask that anyone who may know who this child is, and who their guardian(s) are, to please contact the Surrey police department.

A fund has been set up at the Surrey bank to provide funeral arrangements for the baby. All donations are welcome.

"H-harry?" Albus stuttered.

"Yes Albus, Harry Potter, the 'boy-who-lived'. Dead because you left him unattended on a door step! And again, I ask you, WHAT IN THE WORLD WERE YOU THINKING?!"

"But...He was just a baby! How did he get in the street, he couldn't even walk! Was it death eaters Severus?"

"No Albus. Harry got in the street under his own power, with his two feet. You see, children of that age are called toddlers for a reason-they toddle. Harry, for your information, was walking at eleven moths old. He was quite capable of climbing out of a basket and wandering into the road at fifteen months old, Albus. Which is exactly what happened. So congratulations, you single handedly turned the boy-who-lived into the boy-who-was-run-over-by-a-milk-truck. Way to go." With this Snape turned and walked out of the circular office, muttering about "moronic old coots" under his breath the whole way.