Vernon Dursley awoke that morning as he did every morning: normally. He turned off the alarm clock, woke his wife, checked up on his son, Dudley, and took a shower. He emerged from the shower to the smell of breakfast. He ate, prepared for work, checked the mail, kissed his wife Petunia on the cheek, kissed Dudley and set off for work. Vernon owned Grunnings, a company that made drills. He made good money, and provided well for his absolutely normal family.

As Vernon drove out of his driveway, he noticed something very strange. A red fox was sitting on the corner. That was very odd, but furthermore, the fox was reading a map. Foxes didn't read maps!

Vernon Dursley looked again, but there was no map. Now the fox was reading the sign that said Privet Drive. *No. He's _looking_ at the sign. He's only looking at it. Animals can't read.* Thus assured, Vernon Dursley continued on his way.

The fox trotted along to the house reading four, and sat on the garden wall.

Vernon arrived at work and sat in his office. It was well that Vernon's desk sat facing away from the window, or he'd have seen owl after owl careening by the window. Mr. Dursley ate lunch in his office and thought about drills until five o'clock. At presiscely five, Mr. Dursley set out for home.

He had not gone three steps out his door when a very small old man in a cloak ran into him.

"Terribly sorry." The little man squeaked. "Didn't mean to run into you. Oh well! Nothing like that could disturb me on this most happy day - even Muggles such as yourself have reason to celebrate!" With that, the odd man gave Vernon a big hug and went on his way. With a harrumph Vernon got into his car and began to drive.

"What fads these young people have." Vernon muttered, watching a group of people in bright cloaks walk by, hissing to themselves. But some of these people weren't young, some were his age or older. "Collecting for something. That's it. They're collecting for something." The fact that none of the people in cloaks had collecting tins conveniently escaped Vernon Dursley.

When Vernon returned to his driveway, he noticed the fox was still there.

"Shoo! Shoo, you beastly thing!" Vernon flapped the newspaper at the fox, which regarded him with a look of utmost contempt. It bared its teeth but remained sitting on the corner of the driveway. Annoyed, Vernon went into his house.

"Petunia, call Animal Control. I think that fox is rabid." Vernon told Petunia gruffly.

"No, it's not rabid. I think it belongs to someone - it's been sitting outside all day. Did the people you bought this house from ever mention having a pet?" Petunia sniffed, trying to stuff dinner down the screaming Dudley's gullet. Vernon shook his head.

"I'll call the Pound in the morning." Vernon said, sitting down to dinner. "Um, Petunia..." Vernon began, then stopped. "Have any of those people in cloaks stopped by? I can't figure out what they're collecting for." Petunia froze up.

"No. They haven't. Probably some of _her_ people." "Her" being Petunia's sister, Lily, who was a witch - a freak. The Dursley's greatest fear was that someone would find out they were related to someone that abnormal. Petunia's frosty tone ended all conversation on that topic for the night.

That night began as any other normal night on Privet Drive began. But around midnight, the silent peace was disturbed by the sudden appearance of an old man. The man had a crooked nose, twinkling blue eyes framed by half-moon spectacles and silver hair that hung to his waist, fully as long as his beard. His clothes were like nothing ever seen before on Privet Drive - he wore robes and a cloak, and he carried a wand at his belt.

The strange old man rummaged around in his pocket and removed what looked to be a silver lighter. He pointed the lighter at the first street lamp and cliked it. The street lamp was doused. He did this for every lamp on the block. Anyone looking out their window would see nothing save the velvet cloak of night. Thus assured, the wizard - for he could be nothing but a wizard - continued on his way to Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Professor Snape." The old man said in greeting to the black-eyed fox. With a strange shimmer, the fox became a man. The second wizard was tall, black of hair and eye, and young, he could be only twenty years of age at most. But Snape's eyes were as old as the other wizard's.

"Professor Dumbledore." The sallow-skined man replied. "Are the rumors true? Is the Dark Lord gone?" Snape asked without further preamble, his voice hopeful, but all too ready to have those hopes dashed.

"No. The Dark Lord is defeated, too weak to continue to command, but far from dead." Dumbledore whispered sadly. Snape's eyes glittered.

"And the Potters?"

"Dead, Severus. Only little Harry survived." Dumbledore removed a small bag from his cloak and offered it to Snape. "Lemon drop?" Snape took one of the Muggle sweets from Dumbledore.

"They're fools to believe a boy could kill Voldemort where you could not." Snape commented. The air was thick with tension, as if the universe held it's breath, waiting just as the two wizards were.

"You overestimate my power." Dumbledore said modestly. Snape snorted.

"You have just as much power as Voldemort, perhaps more. You're just too noble to use it." Severus said dismissively. "Are you truly going to leave young Potter here?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"You never were one for tact. Severus, you're the most direct person I know." Dumbledore mused softly. "Yes, I intend to leave Harry here. Hagrid's bringing him." As if summoned by the mention of his name, a giant of a man on a flying motorcycle landed in the driveway.

"Here he is, Professor Dumbledore." The giant said through a mass of wild black hair and beard. His black beetle eyes crinkled up. "Took him from the burnt house meself." Hagrid's thick scottish brogue cracked, and he began to sob profusely. "It's awful, young Harry all alone, his parents dead, no familyyyyyy!" The sobs became a full on wail of dispair and grief.

"Don't carry on so," Severus snapped, but handed Hagrid a handkerchief, "you'll wake the Muggles!" Snape gestured to the sleeping houses around them. Dumbledore removed the bundle of what appeared to be rags Hagrid was carrying. The bundle wasn't rags at all, but rather a sleeping baby. His forehead was split with a lightning-bolt scar.

"Shhh, Hagrid." Dumbledore said soothingly. "He has family, right here in this house." Dumbledore removed a parchment envelope from his robes and headed to the Dursley's door. "I've explained everything in this letter."

"A letter!" Snape growled, forgetting his own advice, "How are you going to explain over ten years of terror under the Dark Lord in a letter! How are you going to explain Harry's survival in face of a curse that can't be blocked in a letter! And how can you leave Harry Potter with these... rifraff!" Snape caught Dumbledore by the elbow, black eyes glittering.

"I've watched them all day, Albus, and a greater pair of Muggles I've never seen! Harry will be hated from the moment he's found for everything he is. You should have seen that moose they call a son, beating his mother and begging for sweets. How can you allow Lily's son to be raised by her narrow-minded fool of a sister!" Snape's voice dropped to a hiss, anger and disgust giving his voice power.

"And if he were raised in our world?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Every child in our world will grow up knowing his name. The celebrity would destroy him." Dumbledore set the unawares boy on the porch, placing the letter on top of him.

"Not if you let me take him." Snape whispered softly.

"Severus..." Albus Dumbledore breathed, "Do you know what you're taking on? Raising a child is no small contract-"

"A contract you would dump on these fools." Snape interrupted, his lip curling in an all-too-familiar sneer. "I know what I'm getting into. I owe James Potter my life. How could I, then, let his son be raised by these baggage?" Snape gestured to the Dursley's home. "I've never disagreed or questioned or asked for anything from you before, but I ask this. Let. Me. Do. My. Duty." Snape's voice was urgent. "Please. He will be safe and sane, I give you my word."

Dumbledore considered Snape's words. He knew Severus like a son, knew what he was made of. Duty, honor and paying one's debts were paramount to Snape. He knew that Severus would protect Harry with his life, and that Snape had given this thought, considered every angle. Not even the Dark Lord entered the Snape lands without an invitation, Harry would be safe from publicity and attack.

And there was something else to consider - Snape was changing. The Ministry of Magic was ignoring Snape's serivice as a spy, pushing to place him in Azkaban. While he didn't show it, Albus knew that rejection had hurt Snape deeply. Not many had bothered to look behind the facade of meanness Snape walled around his soul. Fewer and fewer would, as time went on. That, combined with bitterness and resentment threatened to destroy the young Potions Master of Hogwarts School.

Dumbledore looked down at Harry, who stirred in his sleep, blissfully unaware that his fate was being decided above him. He picked the child up.

"Can you save another as you have saved us all?" Albus whispered softly. Not even Dumbledore knew if he spoke to the child or the professor.

"Go to Hogwarts, Hagrid," Dumbledore instructed, "and tell Minerva Professor Snape will care for young Harry."