A different kind of magic

The storm raged on outside, the wind howling through the trees as rain pelted the cobbled streets of London. You were just about to turn in for the night when a strange, little glowing light flickered just outside of your window. A soft pop echoed not far in the air, and you gasped when you saw a tall hooded figure in dark robes standing at your doorstep, cradling something small in his arms.

Your heart pounded as you flung the door open. "Albus?"you said with confusion to the way he was at your house.

Albus Dumbledore lifted his head, his eyes solemn but twinkling with something unreadable. "Forgive the intrusion," he said gently, "but there is a little someone who really needs you."

It was then that you saw him. A tiny bundle wrapped in a blue baby blanket, his unruly curled black hair peeking out, a jagged scar still fresh on his forehead.

Your breath got caught in your throat. "Is that ...?"you asked him.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed softly. "Your nephew, Harry."

The world spun for the tiniest moment. You hadn't seen Lily in years, not since you left the magical world behind to start a new life away from everyone and everything. You always thought there would be time to fix things, to mend the distance between the two of you. But now… their was no time left, with Lily and her husband being dead and Harry as the only survivor of that night.

Tears burned in your eyes as you reached out, hands trembling as you took the baby from Dumbledore. Harry whimpered softly, his little fists clenching around your finger as if he knew you were meant to be by his side.

Dumbledore watched you carefully. "He was meant to go to Petunia, but I feared she would not provide the love he needs or should get . You, however, still have magic in you, perhaps not the kind that requires a wand, but something just as powerful."

You looked down at Harry, his green eyes, Lily’s eyes staring up at you. Something inside you swelled, fierce and unbreakable.

"I'll take care of him," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I swear it."

Dumbledore smiled, and for the first time that night, the storm outside seemed to quiet down. That night, Harry found rest in the arms of his new family he would later on call his mother, who loves and cherisch him. He may have lost his parents but at the same tim gained someone he could relay on.

And so, the named Boy Who Lived did not grow up in a cupboard under the stairs in the house of his aunt and uncle, who hated anything to do with magic. He grew up in a warm little home filled with laughter, bedtime stories, and the kind of magic that could never be taken away.

And maybe, just maybe, that made all the difference for little Harry.