A/N: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. Don't ya love logic?

I've been reading HP fanfic for so long, I figured I might as well take a whack at one. I'm sure you'll run across some clichés (since I'm working in the main storyline and there's only so many ways to come up with an excuse for it), however I do hope to make this original, and hopefully – worth reading.

The beginning of this chapter clearly references the actual start of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone/ Sorcerer's Stone. This is not an attempt to use the actual text and masquerade it as my own, I am simply horrible at beginnings – hers works well, and I chose to keep it similar until I actually reached the point where my universe and the canon divides.

The Dursleys who lived at Number Four Privet Drive were a perfectly normal family, thank you very much. Petunia Dursley was a stay at home mother for their only child, Dudley who was almost two now, and Vernon Dursley worked at a company called Grunnings that sold drills. All three were perfectly respectable, completely normal British citizens. So it was rather peculiar for them to be the subject of scrutiny from such strange strangers in the night. Fortunately for them, an old man with a long beard had mysteriously 'put out' the lights in all the street lamps, so none of the residents on Privet Drive could tell what was happening just outside their doors, even if they had been awake to see the drama that unfolded.

"I should have known you would be here, Professor McGonagall."

The old man peered over his half moon spectacles at a cat that had until that moment been sitting rather rigidly on a brick wall, almost in wait. At his words however, the cat jumped down, morphing as it did into the figure of a stern looking woman, with her hair up in a bun beneath a pointed green hat and dressed in robes just like the man.

"Are the rumours true, Albus?"

He inclined his head slowly, "The good, and the bad."

"He's gone? And the boy – "

The old man - whose name was really Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, but tended to go by just Albus Dumbledore – calmed his associate by placing an arm on her shoulder.

"Hagrid is bringing him."

"Are you sure you can trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" The stern woman hissed out worriedly.

"Ah, professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life."

"I'm not saying his heart's not in the right place… " she trailed off. The professor, Minerva McGonagall, was one to choose her battles, and she had clearly decided this one would do no good. Just then, a giant of a man pulled in on a flying motorcycle. Dismounting, he picked up a basket which contained a seemingly at peace child, currently sound asleep despite the fact he was in a basket of all things.

"Lil tyke fell asleep as we were flying over Bristol."

Albus had smiled and accepted the basket from Hagrid before moving to place basket and fifteen month old on the doorstep to Number Four Privet Drive.

In a last ditch attempt, Minerva spoke again after Dumbledore had calmed Hagrid down. "Must we leave him here? They really are the worst sort of Muggles imaginable, I've watched them all day and they are – "

She was interrupted once again by Albus Dumbledores' soothing voice, "The only family he has." Gently, he slipped on envelope next to the young child.

"But surely we could find someone to take him in? There won't be a child in our world who won't know his name!"

"Exactly. He's far better off, growing up away from all that."

He smiled gently down at the sleeping infant, a strangely serious expression in his eyes.

"Take care, Harry Potter. The boy… who lived."

The three eventually dispersed, and none noticed the grey rat crawl out from the blanket. Even when the street lamps re-lit, no one saw the small, pudgy man sit down on the stoop and rock the infant Harry back and forth, tears flowing freely.

That is, no one noticed until early in the morning, a shriek pierced the air as one Petunia Dursley nearly tripped on Harry's basket when she opened the door to get the milk and the paper.

The small man known to the world as Peter Pettigrew and as Wormtail to his friends hastily rose to his feet, child still in his arms.

"Wha- what…. "

Well, at least of all of her sister's freakish friends, Petunia thought dimly, it's the shy, polite boy. The watch-out who would warn you if he didn't particularly agree with whatever asinine prank his friends were pulling, and who always seemed to be hanging on the best he could to his pride. Of all her sister's acquaintances, she could only stand two: this one, and a quiet, bookish fellow who adored chocolate and books and had whispered questions to Petunia more than once about the normal world and if there was hope for him to blend into it. The others were either flamboyant or hopelessly rude or just exceedingly strange and most were condescending to her. No, at least there were small favors. It wasn't just the boy in a basket with a stupid note, there was actually a person who wouldn't try to intimidate them and would be able to answer there questions – because surely one letter could not cover it all.

There was a loud sound of pounding feet on an unfortunate staircase and the small rat like man and child were greeted with the sight of Vernon Dursley next to his long necked wife, his mustache twitching furiously.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a furious whisper while Petunia looked around before hastily motioning them inside.

"Well, the thing that you have to… that is… " was all the answer the rat like man was able to stutter out, eyes flicking around in the half dark of dawn furtively.

"Quick, quick, before the neighbors see," were her words while her husband muttered under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'no account freaks just show up and don't even have the courtesy to dress properly'.

Satisfied once the windows were well shut, Petunia turned on her heel and ordered the wracked man tersely. "Now. Explain. And this better not have anything to do with my good for nothing sister. That's not her brat is it?"

To both Dursley's dismay, the small man nodded his head shakily.

"She's dead. They're both dead. You-Know-Who killed them. Oh, it's all my fault. I should have known, I should have warned James and Lily."

"You-Know-Who?" Vernon thundered, angry that not only were there freaks dressed abnormally taking up his important time in his house no less, but they couldn't even bother to be clear.

"We don't speak his name," Peter said apologetically. "Don't know how long the Taboo will last for. No one wants to catch his attention, or that of his followers."

"The dark lord Moldy something?" Petunia asked, a mixture of suspicion and horror (at actually having remembered) on her face. "I heard Lily talk about him once."

"Er, yes, close enough. He's been gathering power and followers for a while now. Dabbled and learned a bunch of dark stuff. He wants to take over all of Britain at least, see? Thinks purebloods – that's folk who can trace their magic through their families back generations – are the best. Man wants to get rid of all muggleborns – like your sister – and muggles – like you. He and his followers torture and kill 'em and their families for sport. James and Lily refused to join him, fought back against him. He dueled James for a bit, didn't take long to kill him we think, but it was awful to see just the same… he went upstairs to the nursery – he wanted to kill Harry, see, there was a prophecy made not too long ago that Harry's the only one who could destroy him. Or the Longbottom boy, to be fair, but that's pointless now. Anyway, he tried to kill Harry, but Lily wouldn't let him, so he just… he killed her first, and then… when he tried to get Harry, he couldn't. Curse rebounded on him."

"So.. so you're saying this Moldy guy killed my sister, her husband and was thwarted by my fifteen month old nephew?"

Her tone clearly portrayed her lack of confidence in any person who couldn't defeat a mere child, and a bit of disgust. She knew that Howard – no, Harold, it was Harold – was going to be just as strange and abnormal as her sister, but really – even she couldn't bring herself to kill him.

"That little twerp is such a freak the guy who's been terrorizing your kind couldn't kill him?" Vernon glared for good measure at the sleeping child. "What's he doing on our door stoop?"

"He's a hero," Peter said defensively, holding him tight. "I'm not sure why he was left on the step – I heard Dumbledore say something about family and protection in Latin when he leaned over the basket, but the rest I didn't catch. He left a letter, it might say."

"Why do I care about some man named Dumbledore? Sounds like some crackpot off the streets."

Petunia intervened this time, "He's the Headmaster at Hogwarts. What does he have to do with my sister? Brilliant as everyone said she was, I could have sworn she would have been out of school by now. They don't have a Uni for your kind do they?"

"Erm… strictly speaking, I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you that. But basically, Lily and James and I and quite a few other people were part of a group that was trying to stop…" he hesitated, and then continued with a slight smile, "Moldy. He's the freak, man isn't even human anymore I bet. As for Harry – I'm not sure. I think Lily might have done something to protect him. I was never as good as Lily with charms and such though." He looked a bit ashamed at this, conveniently managing to overlook Petunia's question about schooling.

"Alright then," Vernon said gruffly, "what's this got to do with us. I'll have you know, we don't want any of your freakishness in our home contaminating our precious Duddykins."

"I'll bet this says." Petunia cast a shrewd look to Pettigrew, then leaned over and snatched the envelope left in young Harry's basket. Reading over the letter, her expression grew cold with a sort of pinched look.

"Well honestly. The nerve of that man, telling us we must take him in for his protection and ours, using Lily against me like that. It's a good thing he left you here to answer questions," she gave an indignant sniff, missing Pettigrew's uncomfortable squirm.

Surprisingly, her husband did not. "He didn't leave you here, did he?" Vernon asked once he had glanced over the letter. "This reads more like a politely phrased order with threats. You've been rather polite for a freak, always were one of the more normal ones anyway."

"Erm... thank you?" Peter had never heard his lack of magical prowess actually praised before, even if it was in a twisted sort of way from one of the 'worst sort of muggles'.

Vernon turned to his wife and the two discussed something quietly for a few moments before turning back to their impromptu guests.

"Last question – why can't you take the boy? The letter said it was important that he remained safe, something about the hope of both our worlds, but shouldn't a… someone like you be more able to care for him? Besides, I highly doubt Lily's will says for him to be raised by me in the event of her death."

Petunia had the grace to look slightly ashamed at her second question, but the curiousity was still burning in her eyes. Neither she nor her husband were yet the embittered beings they could have easily become if Petunia's sister's child had been unceremoniously thrust into their lives. At least this time, they were having time to adjust to it. You will find that people can be extraordinarily forgiving, even in the worst circumstances. It isn't difficult situations that people find most offensive though. It's being surprised. The single incorporation of Peter Pettigrew in this world had lessened the impact of shock the young Dursley couple received that November 1st.

Peter exhaled slowly. He was beginning to think that answering Harry's new guardians' questions honestly and politely was a good thing. He had noticed as the conversation went on that their hostility had lowered significantly. As of this moment, Pettigrew was relieved to note that he was no longer fearing Vernon picking up a baseball bat or Petunia a broom and using either weapon to subdue him and kick him off their property with or without Harry.

"I cannot simply because I have no legal claim to Harry," he said honestly and with a trace of regret. "I'm not a relative or his godfather. And the man who is… Black, I don't… well, it's best you never let him around. He's the reason your sister and brother-in-law are dead. There's a spell, it's called the Fidelius Charm. It allows you to place a secret inside a trusted person's soul. James and Lily placed the secret of their location inside Sirius Black – and he betrayed them to Moldy. I'm going to try and go after him later today. I hope I'm able to get away. If not, I think I can at least make a big enough scene or delay him long enough to get our authorities."

Vernon scowled and muttered something about good to nothing ingrates and bad blood will rule out while Petunia's face turned chalk white. The man who had tormented her, ruined her wedding and her few visits with her once beloved sister was the secondary cause of all this mess? This wasn't the time to say I told you so, but oh, she despaired that she had not convinced her sister away from the wretched freak in time.

"We all thought he was good," Peter was talking almost to himself now, a scratched monotone that spoke of a horror too great for his mind to comprehend. "He sorted Gryffindor. He was on our side all the time against all of Moldy's would be followers. We should have known when he tried to kill Snape, but we thought he was just being a prankster… he was always joking at other people's expense, always getting away with things…." Peter shook his head, still a bit shell shocked. "And he cost us all." Clearing his throat, he tried to actually finish answering the questions. "I'm honestly not sure what their will says. If I survive long enough, I will let you know. And while I can't raise Harry, I would like to help and be a part of his life. As long as that is alright with you. If not, I understand, but I promise – our world isn't catching. If your son isn't already a wizard, he will not become one. It's something you are born with. You can't catch it like the pox and you can't lose it like your shoes. The only thing you can do is determine how much control you have over it. Unfortunately, Harry here… he needs to be able to embrace his more than most. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated for now… but I heard the prophecy, and it's not completed yet. All I can think is that You-Know-Who is going to come back some day. And I don't want to know what will happen to either of our worlds if he isn't prepared, how we'll manage without him. Cobbling along on one foot probably."

Peter took a deep breath and finished, "Besides, Harry will be safest here. Dumbledore may be getting a bit old and he may love his sweets a bit more than normal, but he knows things. He probably knows more tricks with his wand than you know recipes Petunia, and Lily always complimented your cooking. What you have to understand is magic can sometimes be quite primitive, ancient like even. If Lily did something to protect Harry, it may stay intact as long as he is if someone of her blood. That means you and to an extent, your son. While he lives with you, I expect what you read of the letter will be true. You will all be kept safe from attack from," a smile twitched across his expression, "Moldyshorts and his followers. I could offer him no such protection. I'm really not the best."

He sighed and then reluctantly handed Harry and his basket over to a still slightly shaken Petunia.

"I shouldn't keep you from your day any longer, and I'm sorry for intruding. I just wanted to be able to say goodbye to him and help you two understand. People always like to keep me in the dark and I've rather hated it to tell you the truth. That and I hoped if I talked to you, you might agree to let me visit. And maybe Remus too."

"That's the poor scholar one?" Vernon asked suspiciously, considering for a moment at Peter's nod before agreeing. "Alright, but only you two. And only if you can call on the phone in advance like normal people. Or at least knock on the door during decent hours. That alright with you Pet?"

Petunia nodded quietly. "I think we can agree to that. I'd still prefer none of that m- magic nonsense in this house though."

"I'm sure we can manage that." Peter licked his lip nervously. "Could I have a quill? Er, that is a pen? I can write Remus' number down for you. Just in case…."

Surprisingly, it was Vernon who fished one out from a desk drawer and gave him the envelope to write on. After Peter scratched down his friend's number, he glanced sorrowfully to Harry, then gave both Dursley's a salute.

"Thank you for your time."

It was as he was turning out the door that Petunia spoke up.

"Pettigrew!"

Glancing back, he had to smile when he heard her parting remark.

"Good luck."

"Thank you," he whispered quietly, walking around the corner to Wisteria Walk before disappearing with a 'pop'.