Nov 1, 1981
“VERNON!!!” Petunia’s shout brought her husband quickly downstairs in his robe.
From the panicked tone of her voice, Vernon Dursley had been expecting to find the house had been vandalised, or that a mad axe murderer was trying to break in. Instead what he found was his wife staring in horror at a blanket wrapped bundle on their doorstep, her fist clenched around a letter.
“What’s wrong dear?” He approached her carefully, keeping out of the direct view of the open doorway. He had no intention of letting the neighbours see him in his bathrobe and pyjamas.
“Look!” She shrieked again, waving the letter in her hand at the child, who had woken up because of her screeching.
Taking the crumpled letter, Vernon quickly scanned the letter as the baby boy began to cry. In green ink were written the words; ‘James and Lily Potter killed’, ‘last living blood relative’, ‘Please take care of your nephew, Harry James Potter’.
It was what he had feared yesterday, when all those strangely dressed people kept talking about the Potters. Now those freaks wanted to saddle his family with Potter’s unwanted, abnormal offspring.
Well, he wasn’t going to put up with this situation any longer than he had to. That little freak would be gone by tomorrow. Right now, though, he had to convince Petunia to put up with the brat for a little while.
As the baby’s cries became louder he ordered, “bring it in.”
“I don’t want it in the house.” Petunia protested stiffly.
“Neither do I,” Vernon reassured her, “but we don’t want to attract the attention of our early rising neighbours like the Thompsons. If he gets much louder they are going to wonder what’s going on.”
“What are we going to do with it?” Petunia picked up the wriggling, blanket wrapped bundle gingerly, making sure she had as little actual contact with her sister’s abnormal offspring as possible. After setting the wriggling baby on the floor of the sitting room out of the way, Petunia held her hands out away from her body, as if they had been contaminated and would need to be cleaned.
“We’ll have to keep it,” Vernon held up his hands to stop her protest, “at least until dark.”
“Why not get rid of it now?” She hissed.
“Because if someone sees me leave with that,” he pointed at the crying baby, lying by the wall, “and I don’t come back with it, there will be questions.”
His face took on a scheming look. “In fact what I’m planning will work out much better. I’m going to call Ms. Carter and tell her that I will not be coming in today.”
“Why?” Petunia stared at him, like he’d lost his mind.
“We need to get that thing as far away from us as we can. Those freaks your sister hung around with might have some way of keeping track of it, right?”
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure.”
“So we need to do is get that abomination as far away as possible, so it can’t be connected to us by ANYONE.” Vernon paced a bit. “We’re also going to have to move, Pet. Even if they have no way to track that thing, sooner or later they are going to come after it or check up on it. I intend to spend the day looking for a location to dump the brat and talking with estate agents. I’ll be back before dark. In the meantime, I want you to find a box big enough and sturdy enough to hide him. When I get home, we’ll have dinner, then I’ll get rid of this rubbish.”
Petunia nodded her reluctant agreement to the plan. She didn’t want to sell their home and move somewhere else, but Vernon was right. Sooner or later those freaks would show up. She could put up with that brat for a day. She would just need to make sure to keep him far away from her precious Dudley.
Glaring at the wailing child, she hissed. “Shut up you little freak!” before stalking off to take care of her son.
Harry Potter ignored the hateful voice and continued to cry, waiting for a pair of loving arms and a familiar voice to pick him up and speak to him. He was too young to realise that he would never hear either voice or feel either pair of arms again.
Nov 2, 1981
Megan Talbot nodded to the security guard as he let her out the front door of the office building. She hadn’t expected it to take so long to load and test the new accounting program, she’d written for Pickering Enterprises, but then again she hadn’t expected the General Manager to present her with last minute changes and requirements from the owner for what he wanted the program to do.
Well Mr. Pickering was in for a big surprise. If he thought he could get last minute changes to a program without paying for them, he was going to be in for a rather rude awakening. She had put a timed shut down command on all the changes and additions, that would deactivate those features, if the correct code wasn’t entered, and then the added sections would be deleted from the program.
As she was working out just how much extra she was going to charge him, Megan heard a car door slam on the far side of the car park followed by the squeal of tyres and that surprised her. The security guard told her that her car and his were supposed to be the only ones in the car park. As soon as the sound of squealing tyres died away, she had the answer to why someone had taken off as if all the demons of Hell were after them. They had just abandoned a baby.
Megan ran toward the crying, praying to the Gods that the baby wasn’t hurt and that no one else had been injured.
The source of the crying was a cardboard box, about the size of those used to hold bulk copy or printer paper, and it was wedged tightly in-between two rubbish bins.
Whoever had abandoned the baby, probably hoped it wouldn't be found until it was too late. And if it hadn’t been for the circumstances that had kept her here later than she’d planned, Megan was certain the child would’ve been dead by morning. The weatherman had predicted freezing temperatures tonight and it was already cold enough that she could see her breath on the air. She uttered a quick prayer of thanks that the gods had put her in the right place at the right time to save this child.
With her empathic gift, Megan could feel the terror radiating from the child in the box. She had to get the baby calmed down before trying to free the box from between the bins, otherwise the child might hurt itself, because it was so afraid. Singing soft and low, Megan projected feelings of peace and calm toward the unseen occupant in the box. After a few minutes, the baby’s crying slowed, then stopped. She could feel the child drifting off to sleep. Her non-Wiccan friends all thought it was her singing voice that could calm frightened children and animals. They didn’t realise she was practising a part of her Craft as her father had before her.
Dropping to her jean clad knees on the pavement, Megan carefully worked the box free. She didn’t want to wake the now sleeping child.
There was a note pinned to the blanket wrapped around the beautiful baby boy. It was roughly scrawled and to the point. She could feel the hate coming off it.
If you’re smart, you’ll leave this where you found it.
If not, then you can have it.
We didn’t ask for this THING, but we got lumbered with it. We don’t want it. We give up any and all rights to it.
There wasn’t a signature, not that she expected there to be. Those who abandoned children usually didn’t want to be identified.
The glare of a flashlight and the clump of boots, alerted Megan to the security guard coming toward her, so she quickly pocketed the note. Something warned her it wouldn’t be a good idea for the security guard to see the baby, so she quickly muttered a Glamour spell and changed the baby’s appearance of a mother cat and baby kittens.
“What’s going on, miss?” The security guard asked as she turned around, cradling the box in her arms. “I was watching to make sure you made it to your car and then you just took off.”
“Heard a car take off from back here and then I heard these little guys crying. Looks like someone decided tonight was a good night to get rid of an unwanted cat and a litter of kittens.”
The guard started to reach into the box and stroke one of the kittens, but quickly pulled his large hand back. He didn’t want to take the chance of accidentally hurting one of the tiny kittens. Softly, he asked, “how old do you think they are?”
“Not more than a few days old,” Megan lied, walking back toward her car.
“I don’t understand how anyone could do that to a defenceless animal.” The security guard shook his head in disbelief.
“I’ve never understood how some people can harm a child whether the child is theirs or not.” Megan countered, sliding the box carefully into the passenger seat and securing it with a seatbelt.
“You’ve got a point.” The guard conceded, carefully closing the passenger door. “What are you going to do with the kittens?”
“There are a lot of kids in the area where I live. I don’t think I’ll have any problems finding them homes.”
“God bless you, miss, for your kindness.”
“Thank you.” Megan said sincerely.