Petunia was not the only living relative of Harry. Lily Potter was the daughter of Jack Harkness and after finding out how Harry had been used in the original timeline, The Doctor drops Harry off at Jack's house in Wales so he can have a better childhood. I'm going to try not to bash people but Dumbledore, Ron, Molly, Ginny and maybe Hermione and Gwen will be shown negatively, but I'll try to give them nice points as well. Warnings: People dying and slash, Jack/Ianto to be exact. I'm not sure who I'm pairing Harry with yet but that might be slash too.

Basically what happens is that after TYTNW the Doctor finds out that Harry was used by the magical world and is somehow immortal (I might do another fic to show how that happens) and since he owes Jack he decides to change time a bit by giving Harry to Jack to bring up. The Harry Potter Timeline is going to be changed so that Harry gets his letter just after 'Everything Changes'.

AN- THIS IS MY FIRST FIC! I will happily take constructive criticism. But all flames shall be laughed at and fed to either Myfanwy or Buckbeak. Also, this fic is unbetaed so any volunteers would be nice. And if anyone wants to give any ideas, such as making Martha a witch, I'm listening.

Disclaimer: BBC and RTD own Torchwood, Steven Moffat owns Doctor Who and JKR and Warner Bros own Harry Potter. If I was any of the above a lot less people would have died.

Prologue

Four extremely unusual people were on Privet Drive at this moment. One was Albus Dumbledore, He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. He was Chief Mugwump of the International Confederation of …. Wizards. That's right, he was a wizard.

The rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses was a witch. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. And the third person, well he was the most special person out of them all.

The Doctor; Last of the TimeLords, The Oncoming Storm, The Lonely God. And he was hiding behind a hedge, crumpling his pin-stripe suit.

Suddenly, a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle." "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir." "No problems were there." "No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. At the age of one year old, Harry had just somehow survived a curse from the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards feared to speak. Harry's parents had died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow nobody (except for the Doctor) understood why Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry. So Harry had been brought to be brought up by his dead mother's sister and her husband.

This was not a very well thought idea because Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. And Harry was not included in their idea of 'normal'.

"Is that where -." whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to him, sir." asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!" "S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -" "Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." "Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

The Doctor behind the hedge finally came out of their hiding place and gently picked up the baby. "Really," he muttered. "Leaving a child outside in November. Stupid little apes, you could have died of cold," he told the baby, who gurgled at him. "I'm sorry, but you won't be seeing your parents for a long time."

"But tell you what," he continued with a smile, "Your grandfather'll tell you some stories about your mother and father."

He walked around the corner into a little, blue police box; The TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space), the universe's most amazing time machine/ space ship.

VWORP! VWORP!

The blue box disappeared, leaving the sleeping inhabitants of Privet Drive in their life of normality.