Chapter Text
Minerva McGonagall was proud to say that she was perfectly rational, thank you very much. She was the last person you’d expect to be involved in anything rash or careless, because she just didn’t hold with such nonsense.
Should a problem arise she would solve it using logical reasoning. She knew how to keep a cool head in the most bizarre situations – certainly a result of her many years as an educator. It had been proven time and time again; during her time in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, and most recently in her efforts during the war.
Indeed, Minerva was a woman of sound mind. Clever, level-headed, sensible, analytical, and most certainly rational.
So it stands to reason that this most recent development was the product of logic and reasoning (though some might not see it as such). It all started, of course, with Albus Dumbledore, (why was it always Albus!?) a great and brilliant - though whimsical - wizard. Minerva often felt that he had left one too many messes for her to clean up. His mischievous endeavours were second only to those of Peeves and the Prewett twins (may they rest in peace… or perhaps rest in pranks is more appropriate.)
Anyway,
The night James and Lily Potter died, when little Harry had been delivered to his Aunt and Uncle, she had been wary. She knew how strained Lily and Petunia’s relationship had been. Surely Lily wouldn’t have wanted her sister to take care of her only son, as they had never reconciled? And so she had come to sit on the wall of number 4 Privet Drive in her animagus form. What she observed of the Dursleys made her warier still.
But alas, Dumbledore.
“You don’t mean – you can’t mean the people who live here?” she’d said. “Dumbledore – you can’t. I’ve been watching them all day. You couldn’t find two people who are less like us. And they’ve got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!”
“It’s the best place for him” he had answered firmly “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I have written them a letter.”
A letter. It was a joke. Putting a newly orphaned, famous baby boy on a doorstep in the middle of autumn for the Dursleys to find come morning – and all the explanation they got was a letter? Surely Albus could have at least graced them with a face-to-face conversation?
No, apparently not.
The next morning, she returned to the dreadfully dull neighbourhood on only a couple of hours’ restless sleep, determined to put her mind at ease and make sure Harry was all right. As expected when one comes across a baby on their doorstep, the Dursleys did not have the most positive of reactions. There was an abundance of swearing, screeching, and a few tears shed. She conceded that this was indeed the anticipated (if unnecessarily loud and shrill) reaction to such a shock, and decided to come back again regularly until she could be sure that Harry was adequately taken care of.
And so the days passed. She returned in the evenings, when she was finished with her classes for the day. As time went on she became more and more frustrated, Mr Dursley had a nasty temper and Mrs Dursley had no love to spare for Harry, as all her motherly instincts were singularly focused on pampering her own son. Duddiekins - as Mrs Dursley had taken to calling him for some godforsaken reason – was positively spoiled and coddled. The boy had already taken to imitating his parents’ nasty behaviours, and would take joy in pulling Harry’s hair, making him cry out in pain. It soon became clear that her first instincts regarding the Dursleys were indeed true: They were a bunch of crude, impudent idiots, utterly incapable of taking care of a child, least of all a magical child such as Harry.
So one night, she intervened. Just as a Responsible and Rational adult should do, when witnessing neglect and abuse towards a child.
After the barbaric, barish, boisterous buffoons went to bed that night, she had sneaked in, grabbed Harry (from the cupboard under the stairs. Who in the name of Godric leaves a toddler in a cupboard!?) and made a run for it. Which was a perfectly reasonable thing to do on a whim; It was prudent that Harry be removed from such a household, so she had simply removed him.
Simple. Logical. No problem.
Certainly the most level-headed reaction to such a situation.