The ground shook as the roaring came as close as it would get, the spluttering died down and reduced to a low grumble that followed a monstrous thud. A second one followed, slightly softer than the first one. This one came with a quiet but deep, "ar shi'. Don wake up. Don wake up. Don wa- Oh 'ello professors McGonagall an' Dumbledore, sir."
The voice was harsher than wintertime in Antarctica but spoke with more warmth than the summertime in the sahara desert. Slowly, Albus and Minerva opened their eyes and stared at the shaggy 8-foot-tall figure that loomed over them with a giant cheek-to-cheek grin, barely visible through a long, matted beard and moustache that would rival Albus' in length. He was standing in front of an immensely large Harley-Davidson, explaining the roaring; Minerva figured out that this old motorbike had enough magic not only to fly, but to do what would have been a three-day journey in just a few hours. In his giant arms, a baby lay nestled in the crook of his arm, looking miniscule against the man's effortlessly bulging muscles. Embarrassed by their genuine belief they were going to die, the pair quickly released each other's hands and smoothed down their robes, only Albus did not blush a bright red or look at the ground, instead, he stared at the baby in the man's arms. Albus cleared his throat before calmly saying, "Hello Hagrid."
"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry-" Hagrid's hurried, panicked tone of voice carried throughout the barren streets.
"It's no matter, Hagrid. At least one of the children is safe. Quickly, we must do this quickly," Dumbledore interrupted him with urgency holding his arms out ready to take the infant. Hagrid lowered his voice down to what he must have believed to be a whisper, but to everyone else was a regular speaking volume, "Do ye mind if I say me goodbyes, Professor Dumbledore, sir?
"Quickly, Hagrid," Albus repeated, pulling a long, bumpy stick from the depths of his shadowy cloak and waving it once to make a weaved moses basket appear in his hands.
Hagrid turned away from the others as a tear rolled down his cheek just to get lost in his jungle of a beard.
"You listen to me now, 'arry, yer gonna be one of the best damned wizards on the planet. Yer gonna make yer parents very proud. Very proud indeed," tears strolled down his face as he whispered this to the baby, "I'm gonna miss ya, 'arry. I'll be seein' yer at 'ogwarts though." He gave the baby a scratchy kiss on his forehead before turning back around to the others. In a millisecond, a tiny fraction of light danced on Harry's head, just enough time for Minerva to spot an unusual mark on the baby's forehead. Shaped like a lightning bolt etched in the top layer of his skin. She had no time to ask about it though as Hagrid had already placed Harry in the basket in Albus' hand and had stepped away, tears sliding silently down his cheeks as Albus moved ghost-like towards the front door of the house.
"Albus, wait," Minerva said, hurrying towards him, "We can't leave him here, he's one of the greatest pairs of wizards in history, we can't. Not with these muggles, Albus please, we ca-"
"We have to, Minerva. They are this child's only chance of survival, especially since the second child is nowhere to be found. No questions, we have to go," Albus cut her off and spoke snappily. Minerva fell silent and watched, wide-eyed as her usually calm and soft-spoken friend placed the basket in the doorway and reached, again, into his cloak to retrieve a handwritten letter that he then placed on top of the peacefully sleeping baby. Albus found the time to give Minerva a half angry, half apologetic glance before he flicked his cloak and was gone.
Hagrid mounted the motorbike, gave one last, long stare at the baby, the sadness in his eyes overwhelming his whole face, before he kicked up the engine, said his goodbyes to Minerva and flew away again into the night.
Minerva also spent a while looking at the baby. But not his peaceful face, or his tattered clothes and baby blanket, but at his forehead. Slowly, she reached into the sleeves of her own green robes and pulled out her stick, tracing the lines of the child's scar in the air. She thought of the curse Voldemort must have used on this defenceless child, that follows the same wand movements, and she couldn't help but wonder how on Earth he survived and if he managed it, was it possible that she did too? Just as this happened, every light in the street came back on with a soft, but echoey pop that made Minerva jump.
A swish of her cloak later and she was gone and Harry Potter was left sat on the doorstep to number four, Privet Drive.