Out of Time and Memory

Chapter Three - Arrival at Privet Drive

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Bold = Preface thoughts of Petunia Dursley

Italics = Preface thoughts of Minerva McGonagall

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Who is this child

That I've never seen before

Who is this child

That I've not seen till this day

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This day began as any other would. I got up before Vernon, to begin making breakfast for him and Dudley. I went to the door, I picked up the milk, and I went to go back inside. It was a moment before my mind registered what I had seen on my doorstep.

A baby. In a basket. Looking up at me with green eyes.

My sister's eyes.

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Who dares to fall asleep
Outside my door
If we should wait awhile
I'm sure he'll go away

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Why would that woman dare pawn off her unholy spawn on my family? Can that husband of hers not properly support his family? I know not. And I really don't care. But I find myself picking up and reading the note in the baby's basket anyway. It does not bear good news.

They are dead, and their brat is to be left with my family.

Damnation.

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To be involved with this
Would surely not be wise
For in the final word
He means nothing to me

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I cannot leave the brat sitting on my doorstep for all the neighbors to see. What would they think? So I pick up the basket and take it inside, like another basket of laundry. I plop it down on the table, in front of Vernon, who has come downstairs while I was standing on the doorstep. He looks surprised. His surprise changes into outrage as I explain matters. He tells me that this is not wise, that our standing in society would fall if people knew what kind of freak my sister was. And I wholeheartedly agree. My sister was a freak, with her magic and her friends. . .

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I learned the trick is
That we just avoid his eyes
And the question
What he means to. . .

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The baby--Harry, the note said his name was--turns his bright green eyes on me again. I look in them for a moment, and then promise myself that I will never do so again. They are too much like Lily's. But I cannot get around looking at her husband's face, passed on to their child. I know that as he grows, he will look more and more like his father. And I know I will hate him for it.

Vernon asks me why we should keep this child. And that's a good question. He is the child of my freakish sister. What does he mean to us?

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What is this life
There will be other lives
Soon to arrive
Surely some will survive
He is but one
And there are many more
Each the same as any other

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We could throw him out, put him in an orphanage. But then I think what most orphanages are like, and I shudder. No, I would not inflict this on even my worst enemy's child. And though I dislike my sister and her kind with the utmost loathing, I would not put her child into one of those places. After all, in the end, he cannot help who he was born to. But, on the other hand, he has to be kept as separate from my boy as he can be. The cupboard under the stairs will be good enough for him, and he should be grateful that we will give him that much. If he survives, we will put a roof over his head, give him the bare essentials. If he does not, well, I wouldn't be surprised. Bad breeding, and all. But I know that even if he were not to survive, there would be many more like him. And God help them if they are left on our doorstep. They will not be so lucky as young Harry Potter to receive the hospitality of our home.

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Who is this child
What does he mean to me
I close my eyes
And still his face I see
He is but one
His kind is everywhere
Can't you see there's no way I should care

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I watch as Petunia Dursley takes young Harry Potter into her home. The look on her face tells me everything I need to know: this woman will be horrible to the child. The way she looks at him, as if he were a cockroach, bodes ill for the child. And my heart breaks to see this.

Albus says that we must not be too attached to young Harry. After all, we've seen his prophecy, we know what he will have to do when he is grown. Albus tells me that to begin to care about Harry too much could weaken our resolve to ready him for what is to come. But it is too late. I already care for him.

When Hagrid brought him to Privet Drive, I was unprepared for how small Harry was. I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. So much like James. And I've heard about his eyes, Lily's eyes. I had never been able to see them, I had been away for the Order every time the chance would have come up to see Harry with his parents.

How I regret that now.

In my cat form, I close my eyes. The image of Harry Potter swims in my vision. I know that he is not the only one who has lost parents in this war. But no. It is little Harry my heart goes out to now. Even though it shouldn't.

It shouldn't.

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I need a moment now
I have to clear my mind
There is a limit lord
Just to being kind

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Vernon is none too pleased, but I have put my foot down. He thinks that we are taking on a charity case simply because it will look good in the neighborhood. But there is more to it, now that I have a chance to think. I shuffle through my thoughts, putting them in order, and I find that the real reason I am adamant that Harry stay here is because I am afraid. I know the kind of power my sister held. And I know that she was always an avid believer of ghosts and hauntings. I am afraid that she will find a way to seek revenge on me, even in death, if I do not take in her son. But I tell myself that there's a limit to kindness. I am doing all that can be asked of me, even by that kind. There is no reason for my sister's soul to worry about her son. They will catch her murderers, and that will be the end of that.

Right?

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There is no way in life
That each child can be saved
Should I be looking with regret
At every grave

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I turn away from Privet Drive, to head back to Hogwarts. I tell myself that Harry will be fine. He may not have the most glorious life here, but at least his life was saved. I must remember that: at least Harry was saved. I feel guilt over those children that have died at the hands of the Dark Lord, simply for not being of pure wizarding blood. Even though I know that I should feel no guilt, I still feel it. But I must push those thoughts of guilt from my mind. I can't feel responsible for every small grave. I must concentrate on those that have lived.

Like Harry Potter.

And that brings me back to my current problem: the fact that I can't allow myself to care too deeply about the boy. But I know this is impossible. And I know that, in any case, it is too late not to care.

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There are no guarantees
In life he should be warned
I'm not responsible for
This child being born

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I feel as though I should tell Lily's brat not to expect too much from us. I have my own child to look after. But I know that he will not understand me at this point. No worries about that, though, he will be raised in that knowledge. The knowledge that there are no guarantees in life. He must find his own way in this world. We will give him a roof until he is old enough to fend for himself, and then out he goes. I was not responsible for bringing the boy into this world. That was my sister's doing

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I'm not responsible
In any kind of way
For every child that life can gather

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And then my sister had the nerve to go and get herself blown up. Well, we all told her that consorting with those types would lead her into no good. But she did it anyway. And she brought a child into the world. And then he got dumped in my lap when she undoubtedly did something stupid and got herself and that husband of hers killed.

But very well. I have never been one to shirk responsibility. Harry Potter shall have the bare essentials. That is the extent of my responsibility, and it shall be carried out.

Damnation.

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What is this life
There will be other lives
Soon to arrive
Surely some will survive

He is but one
And there are many more
Could this one life really matter

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I reach the end of Privet Drive, and regain my human shape so that I may Apparate to Hogsmeade. I look back once more at number four, where I know Harry will spend some of the worst years of his life. I remind myself that he is lucky to be alive when so many have died. He is one in a sea of orphaned children. Could he really matter more than the rest?

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Who is this child
What does he mean to me
I close my eyes
And still his face I see

He is but one
His kind is everywhere
Can't you see there's no way I should care

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I stand at the end of Privet Drive for what seems like hours, but must have only been minutes. And I tell myself for what seems the thousandth time that there are many others just like him, that have lost their families in this war. Some of them are my own students, and I must look after them first. Even with the touch of prophecy, is this life really more important than the others?

Yes. For some inexplicable reason, this life is different to me. I care more about this one.

Even though I shouldn't.

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Can you see it in the night
Can you feel that it's out there
It's the arcing of a life
And it's hanging in the air

Though I try to close my eyes
And pretend that I don't know
In my heart
I just can't let it go

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In the early morning, I feel the air cool against my skin. I feel the weight of the events that have transpired. Suddenly, I feel very heavily the weight of James' death, of Lily's. I know who must have betrayed them, and it saddens me. There is only one Potter left in the world now. He is but a child, but already his life is planned ahead of him. He must follow the arc plotted by prophecy, a prophecy barely older than himself. He will never know the carelessness of childhood, of being able to choose his own destiny. Harry Potter's destiny is already set, hanging out in the air for all to see.

And he will not even know of it until he enters Hogwarts, for I know that Albus did not include the prophecy in his note to Harry's relatives. I thought that was a mistake. But Albus said that the boy would not be old enough to know this before he comes to Hogwarts, anyway.

I hope he is correct.

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There has to be another way for me
A way that leads from this insanity
A way that leads from my destruction

As I say

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I rack my mind for another solution to this problem. Something other than leaving him with his family. I am told that Harry can be better protected here. I am told that it will be better for Harry to grow up away from his infamy. And I know, logically, that this is true. But my heart is telling me that it is wrong to leave him with these muggles. I know that he will not be treated well by them. I quickly turn my thoughts away from this path. There is nothing I can do at this point, and dwelling on it will only lead to madness. I have many other students, I must look after them. I cannot afford to self-destruct over this one child. I cannot afford to care about him more than any of my students.

But I do.

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Can you see it in the night
Can you feel that it's out there
It's the arcing of a life
And it's hanging in the air

Though I try to close my eyes
And pretend that I don't know
In my heart
I just can't let it go

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The night is progressing, and I must get back to Hogwarts. I have classes to teach tomorrow morning. I finally Apparate to Hogsmeade, and begin the walk back to Hogwarts. I must see Albus one more time before I go to bed. I feel keenly the urge to lay a challenge on him.

I challenge Albus Dumbledore not to care about Harry.

I challenge him not to fall in love with the boy as soon as he enters Hogwarts.

And I know that this is a challenge Albus will loose. And I have to wonder what consequences that will render on us all.