Chapter Text
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.
Despite this adamant and unwavering ideology the dull grey Tuesday following Halloween they were unaware of the woman that watched from a bench at the corner of Privet Drive. She didn’t creep into windows and watch them, it wasn’t them she was watching for. Professor McGonagall arrived just as Mr Dursley was leaving for work, about to have a very odd day. She did not seem impressed while checking her map to make sure this was the correct place. As she was currently a Cat however the woman on the bench enjoys a hilarious view of Mr Dursleys face as he drives past. Unable to resist, she gives him a wink, only serving to confuse the man further.
The Professor made her way to a stone wall to watch through number 4’s window as Dudley seems to be throwing a tantrum while Mrs Dursley smiles and coo’s at his bad behavior. It’s very easy for a cat to seem disapproving, most do but Professor McGonagall’s eyes are far more condemning than the average Tabby.
Looking back down at the leather bound notebook sitting in her lap the woman on the bench wondered if she was making the right decision. Her plan isn’t exactly ethical and despite being a terrible one Petunia Dursley is a person, with a family that loves her. Even if they're just as shallow and vapid.
No, This world she's fallen into is a story, one in which Petunia Dursley is not a good person. She's a two dimensional cartoon villain that learnt all her parenting techniques from Lady Tremaine. Without Petunia there's no leverage, nothing to ensure Professor Dumbledore will listen. The woman on the bench waits in silence as the sun moves across the sky and then disappears under the horizon as Mr Dursley returns home. The Dursleys have dinner and a tense conversation, then make their way to bed.
Albus Dumbledore’s arrival was punctuated with every light on the street going out one by one. Because he’s dramatic like that. He speaks to Professor McGonagall and she transforms into herself; they discuss the events of the day and Wizard's irresponsible celebrations, neither taking any notice of the eyes that watch even in the dark. The woman sits on the edge of the bench waiting in anticipation for the sound of, yes there it is. The deep rumble in the sky could almost be mistaken for thunder at a distance but as it approached there was no mistaking the engine of Sirius Black’s flying motorcycle. Hagrid dismounts as gracefully as one can expect a half giant holding a baby can dismount from a motorcycle chosen by a twink. Probably, she's never actually seen the man but has a descriptive imagination.
It isn’t until all three Wizards dispersed does the woman move from the bench towards the bundle of blankets on number 4’s doorstep. Honestly, he's a baby and it’s November in England. He could freeze to death well before morning comes. Why are all of these Adults who work in a school incompetent at looking after children?
The flickering street lamps reflect off of her rose gold rimmed glasses as she makes her way to the baby on the doorstep. He's so small, sleeping far more soundly than he would be if he was old enough to understand what’s going on. With a sad smile she brushes his dark hair from his eyes to see the fresh wound, bleeding ever so slightly. It looks more like actual lightning than the film's cartoonish bolt just as his skin is darker than Daniel Radcliffs ever could be. The famous scar is much larger as well, stretching from just off the centre of his hairline down to the outer corner of his left eye. She wonders if it hurts him as she takes a folded piece of paper torn from her notebook and places it under Dumbledore’s.
“You’re going to have a rough ten years Harry but I promise I'm going to look after you. I just have to play it smart, there’s so much I want to tell you and I will but not yet. We’re going to make everything right.” She whispers her promise as she sits on the step taking the baby saviour in her arms. They stay like that all night, the woman whispering stories of Harry’s adventure’s to him as he sleeps. He wakes a few times in the night and she calms his fussing with her soft singing of songs that won’t come out for another twenty years.
It isn’t until the sun begins to rise does she place Harry Potter back on the doorstep and walks away, a tear falls from her eye as she does. When Harry wakes to the scream of Mrs Dursley he’s confused what happened to the singing woman and why no one even smiles at him for the next ten years.