Mama's Not Coming Back-Chapter one

A slight breeze ruffled the hair of children and adults, merrily walking from house to house in search for candy. Halloween night had reined cold and windy, as most days in the winter of London. Screams rippled throughout the air, alongside laughter. Though as it grew later and later into the night, the sounds became fewer and farther in between. The women and men within their homes remained undisturbed as subtle noises appeared, as sudden shrieks, wails and laughter suddenly dawned. It was the nature of such a night, and that mindset caused most to be able to sleep peacefully. 

One of these such subtle noises was a small pop, followed by the sounds of footsteps. They soon entered a small, monotonous neighborhood, and quickly after the street lights started to flicker and vanish, one by one.

Upon reaching his destination, an odd man in an odder purple robe absentmindedly putting a small device reminiscent to a pen in his breast pocket. He roamed in the dark, before settling on a small wall, where a black tabby cat with square-like markings around it's eyes was sitting.

The man did not look at the cat, however. But, as he pulled candy out of a fold of his robe, he did speak.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor Mcgonagall." He stated quietly, turning to look at the tabby with a weary smile on his face. But the tabby was no longer there. In its place a woman sat, green robe similar to his own and glasses reminiscent to the markings on the cat's eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore," She greeted stiffly. "Albus, do you really believe these people are the best choice? I've been watching them all day and they're the worst sort of Muggles!"

"Yes, I am sure Professor. They are little Harry's only chance now."

"Oh, Albus...It's true, then? The rumors?"

"I'm afraid so, Professor." Professor McGonagall brought her hands to her mouth, a soft gasp slipping through.

"I...I didn't want to believe it, Albus...surely it can't be true? The Potters aren't..."

"Only little Harry survived. But not unscathed." Albus said grimly.

"But where is he now, then?"

"Hagrid is bringing him. He should be here any time now."

"Albus, you really trust Hagrid with something so important as-"

"Yes, Minerva. I trust Hagrid with my life." Dumbledore said, not a hint of anything other than his statement in his voice.

McGonagall sighed, and shook her head. A small rattling noise sounded next to her, and she glanced to her side to see Albus sadly eating one of his favored lemon drops.

She almost scolded him for such a thing, before a loud, metallic roar sounded throughout the night, startling Albus into almost dropping his candy and Minerva's thought to run out of her head. 

It sounded as though a monsterous engine was taking a joy ride at it's own expense. Gazing into the sky, the two professors were able to pick out a small dot among the black, growing bigger and the noise louder with each passing moment. It soon landed on the asphalt loudly, metal scraping and sparks flying.

A man of above average size got off of the damaged machine, which appeared to be a motorcycle. He towered over them, and the piece of metal groaned in relief once his weight was lifted. It rose an inch or two off the ground, and appeared to be an innocent vehicle once more.

The man walked towards the two, his face having more resemblance to a lions mane and a small bundle cradled to his chest, hardly visible with so many layers on it to keep the bundle warm and undamaged. 

"Is...is that him?" McGonagall breathed, eyes locked on the small bundle, now visibly shown in a wicker basket.

"Yes, it is. This, is Harry Potter." Albus introduced, taking the basket gently from the giant mans hands. He cradled it to his own chest gently by the handle of the basket. "Any problems?"

"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."

The basket was gently placed down atop a fuzzy welcome mat, stating 'welcome'. The house number read number 4, and the street Privet Drive. Albus had memorized the address already, but he repeated it anyway, as he and his companions gazed sadly at the small bundle of blankets inside.

The small child inside was hardly visible, but what could be seen was a mattering of black, fuzzy hair, and an unusually shaped scar on the right side of his forehead, still an angry red. But the child despite that, was fast asleep.

"Can-can I say good-bye to him, sir?" Hagrid asked, voice wobbly as he bent over and gave the infant what must have been a scratchy, whiskery kiss on the cheek.

"The poor tike." The scruffy man sobbed, howling like a dog, eyes watery. "I'm gonna miss 'im!"

"Hagrid! You'll wake the Muggles." McGonagall scolded, glancing around nervously over her shoulder, staring at the many houses to make sure no lights had turned on.

"There there, Hagrid. It's not like it's the last you'll ever see of him." Albus comforted the giant man in a soft voice.

"Are you sure this is the best option, Albus?" Minerva asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Yes, Minerva. I am sure." The old wizard assured the witch. Placing a letter down on top of the blanket, addressed to a Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Albus patted the boys head in parting, and the trio vanished, one loudly on a motorcycle, and two by the use of wands. The Wizened man could have sworn he was forgeting something rather important.

When the sky was startling to lighten to pinks and purples, a sudden, harsh breeze rippled past, picking up from the slight, gentle wind that had been going on all night. The sudden breeze picked up a small letter that had been resting inside the basket, atop the bundle of blankets. The breeze continued for several hours, before calming down eventually. The letter was long gone, however.

It was hours later, as the clock as approaching seven thirty A.M., that Vernon Dursley stepped out of his house, fully intending to head to work.

He would have likely crushed the fifteen month old on his front door step, if he hadn't looked down to check to make sure his shoes were tied. Somehow, the child was still sleeping, and the man called for his wife in a shouted whisper, and whether it was in an effort not to wake the child or to not notify the neighbors he wasn't completely sure.

When she approached, a shriek was lodged in her throat. It was in a hushed exchange that they quickly decide Vernon would drop it off somewhere on his way to work, and she went back inside, having started to hear her son crying for her.

Vernon had decided to just drop it off in an alley somewhere, he was already running slightly late to work. When he stopped, pulling the wicker basket from the back seat, the child was still amazingly asleep. Vernon wondered for a moment if the child was dead, but decided he wasn't because he could see the small chest rising and falling. He didn't know that the events of the night before would drain anyone, even a fully grown adult into sleeping more than usual.

Soon a small basket was in an alley, abandoned, a small child inside.

The Dursley's never got the letter that had been blown away. If they had, they would've known the importance of this child, which they had left for dead without blinking an eye.

It was roughly two hours later that the fifteen month old finally awoke, blinking up at the dark sky, a small fist raising to rub one started emerald eye. The small toddler looked around him, growing more and more scared as he didn't recognize where he was. This place was dark, empty, and smelled bad. 

A small whimper left him. He missed his mama, her bright hair and eyes, and his dad, who would throw him up and catch him, and Padfoo and Moo'y. The whimper turned into a scared cry.

A flash of green light zipped behind his eyes, and his sobs stuttered, remembering his mama falling to the floor and not getting up when he cried for her, as she always did, eventually. His cries doubled in strength. He somehow knew his mama wasn't coming back, and he didn't like it one bit. He missed her terribly.

"Hey there, little guy. It's okay, you can calm down. Hey, look at me buddy, it's okay." A soothing, young voice reached little ears, and the young child's eyes opened to look above him. He saw a kid, roughly eleven in age, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. His clothes were dirty and had holes, but his face was kind.

It was the eyes. They were familiar, like his Dada's. A steady stream of whimpers, with trembling lips and red, wet puffy eyes, and then he was reaching for the older person, desperately wanting to be picked up and comforted. To be held.

The little boys heart melted as the baby reached for him, and he gently picked up the young boy, holding him close to his chest and patting his back in an effort to calm the horribly scared child.

"Hey buddy, hey, calm down, calm down, it's alright, it's alright, everything'll be fine." The boy whispered, and the child immediately snuggled into the boys neck. "You got your name anywhere on you?" He murmured allowed, checking the back of the onesie the boy was in. There was a name tag on the back. "Harry Potter. Well, Harry, nice to meet you. I'm Jesse." Harry sniffed into Jesse's shoulder, tiny hands clutching desperately to the boys shirt.

Jesse was positive the boy couldn't have been out here to terribly long, seeing as he had been through here late Yesterday night. But...who would just abandon a child like this? Actually, I shouldn't be surprised...No matter. I'll just take care of him...some now. I'm not any better off than he is, come to think of it.

Scowling had nothing, Jesse lightly rubbed Harry's back. He had been living on the streets for a year or so now, and he could handle himself well enough, now. He wasn't sure if he could do it, but he would make sure to at least take care of the child. Of Harry. This was Harry. Not just some child. 

Perhaps I'll call him my brother as he grows...if he grows up. I could even I share his last name...Jesse Potter...it isn't bad. Sounds better than Jesse McLell, anyways...less ties to him, too. Win win.

A sudden, loud sob attracted his attention. "Mama!"

Jesse's heart shattered, just like that. He tucked his lips against Harry's head on hair, closing his eyes as he whispered into them, trying to make the small child understand his words. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...mama isn't coming back. But you have me. I'll be your big brother. I'll take care of you, Harry." 

Harry seemed to understand him, at least his tone of voice because he cuddled closer. Jesse rubbed the boys forehead gently, curiously searching when he felt an odd shape on the right side. It took him a moment but he decided it was in the shape of a lightning bolt.

~~~

If you're anything like me, good luck cause you're in for a fucking ride.