Chapter Text
Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up.
One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, coming face to face with two gruff aurors watching over baby Harry.
"Mrs. Dursley, I presume? We are with the ministry. We have been assigned to watch over your young ward, Harry Potter. I must say, it is quite irresponsible of you to leave him to sleep out here.”
Mrs. Dursley froze, her hand clutching the doorknob, eyes wide as she took in the sight of the stern-faced couple standing on her doorstep. Her gaze flicked down to the upset child in the basket, then back to the couple.
"Who—who are you?" she demanded, voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "And what is he doing out here?"
The man, a broad-shouldered figure with a square jaw, raised an eyebrow. “Auror Williamson, ma'am. This is my colleague, Auror Pike. We’re with the Ministry of Magic. And frankly, Mrs. Dursley, we’re wondering the same thing. Why is this child left outside like a milk bottle?"
Petunia's mouth fell open, her shock quickly replaced by fury. "Left outside? I didn’t leave him there! I don’t even know what he’s doing here—one of your lot must have dropped him off!”
Auror Pike stepped forward, her brow furrowing. “Our lot? The Ministry didn’t leave Harry Potter on your doorstep. We’re here to ensure his safety, not to dump him at the first relative we can find. But you, Mrs. Dursley, are his closest living relative.”
Her face flushed red with indignation. “I never agreed to take him in! If you’re from this ‘Ministry,’ then take him with you! This—this nonsense has nothing to do with me!”
Williamson exchanged a glance with Pike before turning back to her, his expression hardening. “I’m afraid it does, ma’am. Harry Potter was entrusted to your care because of the blood relation. No one else has that bond, and it’s essential for his protection.”
Petunia’s lips curled in disgust. “I didn’t ask for this! If there’s some law, or—or whatever this is, can’t you just take him and leave?”
Pike folded her arms, her voice calm but firm. “It doesn’t work like that. If you have a problem with this arrangement, I suggest you take it up with the Ministry. In London. In person.”
“I—" Petunia sputtered, glaring at the drowsy baby as if he were to blame. "This is outrageous! You can’t just expect me to—"
“We do,” Williamson interrupted coolly. “Until this matter is resolved, Harry Potter stays here. It’s your responsibility, Mrs. Dursley.”
Petunia glared at the man and woman, her face twisting in frustration, but the aurors remained resolute. After a tense pause, she finally relented, throwing her hands in the air.
“Fine! But don’t expect me to like it.”
Petunia placed baby Harry on the kitchen table, eyeing the bundle with contempt as she hurriedly set about preparing a bottle. Her movements were sharp and agitated, clattering the bottles and formula she had stocked for Dudley, who was fast asleep upstairs.
The two aurors exchanged a glance, taking in the domestic scene with an air of disbelief. Pike picked up the envelope lying beside Harry, her eyes narrowing as she read the looping handwriting on the front.
“Dumbledore,” she muttered, glancing at Williamson. “This has his fingerprints all over it.”
Williamson snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he just left the kid out on a doorstep without any warning. Did he even think about the potential dangers?”
“Doubtful,” Pike said dryly. She carefully opened the letter, unfolding the parchment and scanning its contents. Her face hardened with every line. “This is... manipulative. He’s trying to appeal to her sense of duty, but it’s more like emotional blackmail.”
Williamson stepped closer, frowning. “Let me see.” He leaned over her shoulder, his jaw tightening as he read aloud: “‘This boy will be in danger if left in the wizarding world, but with you, his last living relative, he will be safe from those who wish to harm him.’”
Pike scoffed, shaking her head. “He’s banking on the blood wards doing all the work, but what about Harry’s well-being? Has he even considered how this woman feels about raising him?”
Petunia, overhearing bits of their conversation, whipped around, bottle in hand, her eyes flashing with fury. “Well, you can tell your Dumbledore that I don’t care about his manipulative little letter! I didn’t ask for this—any of this! He just dumps the boy here, like... like he’s a parcel!”
Pike calmly folded the letter and handed it to her. “You should read it yourself, Mrs. Dursley. But I’d be wary of how much you let it sway your decisions. If you don’t want to take care of him, you have every right to refuse.”
Petunia’s fingers tightened around the parchment, her nostrils flaring. “But you just said I have no choice!”
“We said it’s complicated,” Williamson corrected, his tone firm but not unsympathetic. “The blood protection is real—it’s powerful magic. But raising a child is a whole other responsibility. If Dumbledore wants you to do it, then you should at least know what you’re getting into. This... pressure he's put on you is unfair.”
Pike’s voice softened slightly. “If you truly don’t want him, there are magical means to ensure his safety elsewhere. But Dumbledore is hoping you won’t make that choice. Just be sure it’s your decision, not his.”
Petunia looked down at the sleeping baby, her expression a mixture of resentment and uncertainty. The kitchen was silent except for the steady ticking of the clock and the faint gurgling of the bottle in her hand. After a long pause, she muttered, “I’ll think about it.”
A few hours later, the house across the street was a flurry of activity. The neighbors, the Coopers, looked dazed but oddly cheerful as they packed their belongings into a moving van. Mrs. Cooper kept muttering under her breath, "Can you believe it, twice the market rate! In cash! What luck... what absolute luck."
Mr. Cooper, stuffing boxes into the back of their car, chuckled, though his expression was oddly vacant. "That couple was strange, but who cares? They had a notary and everything! Can’t believe we almost said no… what were we thinking?”
Neither of them seemed to recall exactly why they had initially refused the offer—or even what had happened after the eccentric man with the narrowed eyes and his stately wife had first knocked on their door.
As they pulled out of the driveway, their eyes still glazed over, the house now sat eerily quiet. There was no sign of the strange couple, but a few flickers of memory still danced in the Coopers’ minds—strange, fleeting thoughts of bright flashes and impossibly quick signatures. But they shrugged it off. After all, who questions luck like this?
The house was empty now, waiting.
The following morning, the Dursleys woke up to the sound of moving trucks across the street. Petunia peered through the curtains, her lips pinching tight as she watched the furniture being unloaded into the Coopers' old house. The neighbors had moved out so abruptly the day before, leaving the street buzzing with speculation.
Now, in their place, a new couple had arrived—quiet, efficient, and, as far as Petunia could tell, unremarkable. They didn’t speak much, just a few words exchanged with the movers before disappearing inside.
Petunia stood at the window again, eyes narrowed as she watched the two aurors from the day before casually move into the house across the street.
She glanced back at Vernon, who was still sitting at the breakfast table, obliviously reading the newspaper. "They're moving in. The same people from yesterday. Those... aurors."
Vernon grunted, not looking up. "What, the weirdos who tried to tell you how to take care of him?" He jerked his head in the direction of the cupboard where they had decided to keep Harry's basket for the time being.
"Yes, them," Petunia snapped, her fingers gripping the edge of the curtain. "They’re pretending to be just a normal couple, but I know what they’re really doing. Watching us. Watching him."
Across the street, Pike set down a box marked kitchenware, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Petunia's already watching us like a hawk,” she remarked, shooting a glance back at the Dursley house.
“Doesn’t matter,” Williamson replied, pushing the front door open wider to let in more light. “Let her know. Makes our job easier if she knows we’re keeping an eye on things.”
Pike nodded. “No need to be covert, then.” She smiled wryly. “But we’re not us anymore. What’s our cover surname?”
“Fairfield,” Williamson said as he dropped a few suitcases onto the living room floor. “Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield. No need to make it complicated.”
Pike snorted. “Fairfield, huh? Bit posh for a couple like us.”
“Well, it was either that or something like ‘Smith’ or ‘Jones.’ Figured we’d put in the minimum effort.”
Inside the house, Aurors Pike and Williamson were unpacking a few belongings, setting the scene for their cover as a newly settled couple. The place was quaint, perfectly positioned for what the Ministry had planned. Pike walked through the empty rooms, her keen eyes sweeping for any magical traces that might have lingered.
“Wards are solid,” she muttered, tapping her wand lightly against the doorframe. “Nothing too flashy, just enough to ensure privacy.”
Williamson, setting up what looked like a wireless radio in the living room, nodded. “Good. We’ll need it. If we’re going to blend in, we can’t have anyone asking questions.” He glanced at the family photo they’d placed on the mantel—a charmed image of the two of them in front of a nondescript cottage. “You know the drill. We’re just another couple looking for peace and quiet.”
Pike smirked, her hands on her hips. “The only thing quiet around here will be us keeping an eye on the Dursleys. I’m not sure that Petunia woman can go a week without throwing a fit.”
Williamson chuckled. “She’ll calm down. Once the excitement fades, they’ll barely notice we’re here.”
“Fair enough,” Pike muttered, casting a spell to check the perimeter wards. “Solid work. No one’s getting in or out without us knowing.”
Setting up their cover wasn’t about fooling the Dursleys, who already knew the truth, but rather about blending into the rest of the neighborhood. They had no intention of being mysterious or flashy, but they also weren’t going to pretend that they weren’t there for a reason. Petunia Dursley needed to understand that they were there for Harry’s safety, even if she resented it.
Their cover as a married couple was meticulously planned, right down to the moving day being coordinated with the Coopers’ sudden decision to vacate the house.
The Ministry had ensured everything was in place—fake identification, a plausible backstory, and most importantly, non-intrusive surveillance on the house where Harry Potter would be raised.
“I’ll bet Petunia’s telling her husband all about how we’re ‘watching’ them,” Pike said, glancing out the window. “Best to get ahead of it.”
”Agreed,” Williamson said, pulling out a pair of chairs. “Let’s have a word with her once we’re settled. Explain we’re just keeping watch. She doesn’t need to like us, but she’s got to accept that this is how it’s going to be.”
They both knew they were playing the long game. The aurors would remain, quietly living their made-up lives as the Fairfields, keeping watch over the Boy Who Lived—even if it meant enduring the glares of a very suspicious Petunia Dursley.