A/N:

I've deleted my other story until further notice (sorry, I'm starting it over).

So this is an experimental Doctor Who/Harry Potter crossover, with this prologue set between The Runaway Bride and Smith And Jones for Ten, and during the first chapter of the Philosopher's Stone for Harry. The actual story will be with Eleven during the final battle!

Enjoy!

~TheImmortalMarauder

Prologue:

The blue box crashed and hurled along the walls of the Time Vortex, spinning in a wild frenzy and toppling the man inside. The Doctor frantically pushed buttons and pulled levers in order to stabilise the TARDIS, but it was no use. He glanced at the screen above him, which was overflowing with coordinates, dates, names of planets and then – nothing. The endless shaking and rotating had stopped, but there was no familiar whoosh of the brakes to show that he had managed to land his ship. The Doctor stepped towards the doors of the TARDIS, and pressed his ear up against them. He heard a rumble – was it a carnivorous planet? Perhaps a shift in tectonic plates? But no, his feet remained firmly on the ground. Hmm… he pondered, running through endless possibilities in his mind. An exploding star? An electrical storm? A hungry Slitheen? The more he could think of, the louder the rumbling got. "Where have you taken me, old girl?" he said aloud to his most trusted companion, the one who would never leave him – the greatest vessel in the universe. However the TARDIS was no comfort to him now, as it had been shaken off of its course by some unknown force. The force, the Doctor concluded, which has brought me here. Whatever it was, it was something powerful enough to make the TARDIS lose control. "Well, I guess there's only one way to find out!" he exclaimed to thin air. "Allons-y!"

He was not expecting to see grass beneath his feet. He was not expecting to see rows of identical houses pressed up against a small road named Privet Drive, from what the sign read. And the Doctor was certainly not expecting to see an old man dressed up as a wizard. Maybe it was Halloween? Hold on, this was Surrey! And in the eighties! Blimey! On Halloween! It was Earth all right – but not quite his Earth. There was something very different, something in the air felt a bit more… frazzled. It was the only way the Doctor could describe it – and he felt heavier, like the gravity here had changed. He let his senses take over, and noticed the bewildering electricity in the air came from around the cloaked man. Was he an alien? Listening closely, the Doctor heard a soft thumping sound;a human heart. If he was in disguise, it was very good as nothing was betraying a foreign identity. His senses heightened, he heard it again – the rumbling was still faint, but growing louder every second. There was no way to tell where it was coming from, but as ominous as it was, the Doctor didn't feel endangered. A cat scampered past his feet, unaware or too scared to acknowledge him. He took a closer look at the man, who had reached into his pocket and surfaced what appeared to be a lighter. When he clicked it – pop! The street lamp to his left went out.

That was odd. It must be some kind of remote, cutting off the transmission from the light source. But as the Doctor looked closer, he changed his theory. The light was going into the device, meaning it was sucking the energy from the source. However, that was very advanced technology for even the late twentieth century. As the man clicked away, all twelve lamps were drained of light, and the Doctor became more confused. It's a great party trick, but no one's around to witness it. What was the man going to do with all that light energy? Where did he get the lighter? No, it wouldn't be called a lighter. The darker? His brain furiously scraping around for answers, he barely registered the man speak.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

Who is he talking to? Me? Am I Professor McGonagall? I hope not, that's a ridiculously pretentious name –

Just as the Doctor was about to step forward into the man's field of view, the cat turned into a woman. The same cat that ran past him only a minute ago, but it wasn't a cat any more. There were no shape-shifters on Earth – none for three hundred thousand and seventy-two light years away! Or thereabouts. But he witnessed the cat just turn into a woman in a matter of milliseconds – that was impressive. She had managed clothes as well! The cat-woman was dressed up just as strangely as the man. What on Earth was going on?

The two people conversed in hushed tones and made their way towards one of the little houses. At the door, they both looked up towards the sky. The rumbling was growing steadily louder, and the Doctor saw, silhouetted against the sky, a giant man on a flying motorbike.

"Oh, what I would do to get me one of those," the Time Lord whispered, but he was confused as ever. Giants? They didn't exist. Large humanoid aliens, yes, but they wouldn't come into existence for another thousand years. The man landed with all the grace of a boulder, and lugged his huge weight off of the motorcycle and towards the two others, carrying what appeared to be a small bundle of rags. They were all conversing quietly now; the weirdly dressed, and now rather sad humans who baffled the Doctor to no end. Where did they get the technology to source-suck, shape-shift and get a bike to fly? Who were they? Was this some unknown branch of Torchwood? Should he go up and talk to them?

The giant-man let out a huge sniffle. They were crying; the little group had been brought to tears. They weren't the least bit concerned about the brilliant piece of flying transportation they had at their disposal – they weren't even looking at it anymore. It seemed to the Doctor as if the conversation was now revolving around the package, or whatever it was that Mr Gigantic had carried with him. It struck the Doctor that whatever it was, it must be very important. Honestly, who ignores a flying motorcycle? At that very moment, the party dispersed into the night. Big-man lumbered onto his bike, cat-woman promptly transformed into a cat and disappeared into the shadows. However the wizard withdrew a letter and placed it on the doorstep with the bundle. He then turned around and made his way back towards the clearing where the Doctor first spotted him. Taking out the darker/lighter, the lamps were all restored with just one click. The Doctor didn't understand – what had he just witnessed? An initiation? A blessing? A wedding, maybe? Highly unlikely, but –

The man was staring at him. His piercing blue eyes through his horn-rimmed glasses were looking right at him. Of course the Doctor was using the TARDIS key as an attempt at concealment, but this strange man saw right though his disguise. Run, he thought, run and escape. The TARDIS is right here. He could be dangerous; but he let his more human nature take over. He felt that this man, whoever he was, was here to help. His odd lilac robes and his wrinkled face were not imposing, nor intimidating. For once, the Doctor knew for certain that he didn't have to run. This peculiar human was not a threat. He was not sure what to say, so neither running nor speaking, the Doctor stood dumbstruck. All he could do was hold this man's gaze – never wavering or faltering. A bond of trust passed wordlessly between them, through almost telepathic consent. Just as he thought he should speak, the human smiled and nodded kindly,

"I've been expecting you for quite some time, Doctor."

"I – what?" the Time Lord began. "Sorry, do I know you?"

"It was foretold that you would come." The man stepped closer to the Doctor. "But, forgive me. Where are my manners? Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, at your service."

"Foretold, you say?" The Doctor replied as he removed the key from around his neck. "I don't really believe in that sort of thing."
"I know. You are a man of science, of which you have a wealth of knowledge. However, I am a man of magic."

The Doctor's thoughts sped up again. Concepts of real magic existing on his Earth had died out years ago. Anyone human he knew had condemned, banished, disproved or disagreed with witchcraft. The few that still held onto their beliefs were a dying breed, and most who did were no longer sane. However the Professor did not strike him as insane. He had seen many strange, out of character things in the nine minutes and twenty-two seconds he had been here. There was no Privet Drive in Surrey as far as he could remember. The frazzled air, the shift in gravity, the violent way he had arrived, ripped through the Vortex –

"Am I – am I in a parallel universe, Mr Dumbledore?" The Doctor couldn't fathom another reason for how this was happening.

"I believe that's what you call it, yes. Doctor, we will need your help. Someday, soon for you I suppose, we will need an aid for the little boy on that doorstep. You were summoned to be warned that you will be brought here again with out warning when we need you. There will be a war, and everyone here will be in danger. Legend speaks of you as a Healer of people, as well as a Soldier in combat. This boy; he has just lost his parents, and will especially need protection. I doubt I will see you again Doctor, but I wish you the best of luck on your travels." The old man turned around and began walking away.

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore! Wait!" he panted, running up beside his lecturer. "I don't understand. Who is this boy? How is my TARDIS still alive? Who are you? How did I get here? What war?"

"All will be explained, in time." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You have plenty of that, don't you?" The Doctor slowed his pace.

"Yes, but I should warn you, Albus. Can I call you Albus?"

"Of course."

"I quite like the name Albus, by the way. Very vintage. Well, not as vintage as mine but –"

"You were warning me?" the Professor interrupted.

"Err, yes – you see, wars don't tend to turn out well when I'm in them. For either side." The Doctor shuffled his Converse amidst the almost-too-green-grass.

"Look over there at that house. Number four." Dumbledore pointed across the street from where they now stood. "That baby, just a year old, has diminished one of the greatest dark forces we have ever seen; something so evil, it has never felt love. He will one day finish this evil off for good, even before his eighteenth birthday. So Doctor, have faith in this boy – and even more importantly, have faith in yourself."

"You seem to have an awful lot of faith in your predictions, Professor," he said as he began making his way back to his TARDIS.

"Well, you're here; something even you thought impossible. If that's not a good prediction, then I have absolutely no idea what is." The Doctor chuckled.

"Quite right, Albus. So, what is it exactly you predict I will do, when I come back?"

"Do you know what? I haven't the foggiest. I guess you'll have to figure it out." The Professor winked at his companion. "Just remember the boy's name – Harry Potter. Goodnight Doctor," and he turned on the spot, vanishing with a loud crack.

"Goodnight indeed." The Doctor stepped back into his blue box, shaking his head and laughing. "Magic, there's no such thing." With that, the TARDIS lurched of it's own accord and shot straight back into the Vortex.

A/N:

Thanks to the anon who pointed out my horrifically stupid mistake about Privet Drive!

Happy Reading [:

~tIM