A Cunning Mind

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**Albus Dumbledore

Albus Dumbledore apparated himself to the Godric's Hollow nursery. He figured he'd have a good fifteen minutes to poke around before Hagrid would be able to get here.

The room appeared to him as before, excepting of course, Lily's body being splayed on the ground dead. She lay before Evan's crib, her red hair fanning out in an arc to frame her pale face. Stepping closer, he twitched his robes into his side as he passed so they wouldn't brush against the corpse.

He did so disdain the thought of a body touching his precious deravenora silk robes. They were, after all, his second favorites, navy blue with silver constellations and detailed trimming. His tailor had added in specific embellishments that he'd designed himself, and he wasn't about to have them sullied by a corpse.

"Corpus Revelarum," he muttered, giving his wand a slight swish and jab.

Curly lilac colored script wrote itself out in the air just before his wand, giving a brief overview of Lily's death.

Lily Juniper Potter (née Evans)

TOD: 11:42 pm 31st of October 1981

COD: Wordless Avada Kedavra

Caster: Untraceable

As he'd planned, Voldemort's crony had reported hearing the false prophecy he'd planted in Trelawney's head. Predictable as could be, Albus knew the wizard would choose a day of some significance to mount his attack on his supposed 'doom', aka, the Potter's child. The muggle holiday of Halloween was the closest, so it had taken very little fiendish calculation on his part to figure this was to be the day.

Knowing as he'd set it up that Lily would sacrifice herself for her little brat Evan, he'd imbued her with a charm. The charm basically brought her dying wish true, so long as it could happen within the time it took for her body to naturally cool off. Darker castings did tend to have slightly morbid deadlines, but who was he to complain if it got the job done?

Lily had too high an opinion of herself to let her favorite son die, and while her wish may have had impure motives, the power of the charm mixed with the natural power of a life sacrifice was strong enough to bring true her final wish. Her protection would have banished Voldemort from this plane of existence.

He was surprised to find the other boy alive though. Harry, so far as he could tell, was uncommonly average in every way, excepting his size. He was rather too small, and utterly lacking in the soft baby fat expected of a child little more than a year old.

For the first time, Albus noticed an inch long scar that ran jagged over the toddler's left eyebrow, shaped peculiarly similar to a lightning bolt. He himself had a scar on his left knee that was a perfect map of the London Underground though, and it wasn't exactly strange to have a jagged scar.

Harry was fast asleep in his crib, and Albus briefly wondered at how the child was sleeping so soundly. Did he not understand what had happened in this room? Perhaps not. He was, after all, fifteen months old, and there was a slight possibility he'd even slept through the entire thing.

Back to his main priority though. Evan also lay sleeping, and Albus' gaze instantly latched onto the v-shaped scar in the child's cheek, it was obviously magic touched. He smiled his true smile, cold and mean, that he never allowed cross his face in the presence of others.

The clear mark would only make the child stand out more. He would grow more famous, and as a result, Albus would gain even more power being the one to guide the boy's strings.

He was, after all, chess master in this game of life, death, magic, and power. Quite literally playing both sides, there was nothing anyone else could do to stop him. Well, except kill him, but that would be far more difficult a task than the average spell crafter could accomplish. He'd amassed too much power to be brought down by any single wizard.

Once again with his attention momentarily on Harry, he decided it would be best to split the boys up. It would be beneficial to make Evan seem even more of a miracle, and having everyone think he was the sole survivor would further the process.

They wouldn't lie about Harry of course, because Albus knew secrets had a tendency to crop back up. Instead, they would simply forget to mention him. After all, the world would be so aflutter with the joyous news of Voldemort's death, they'd hardly have time to remember a tiny black-haired boy.

Maybe. . . Maybe if he sent Harry to live with the Dursleys, by the time he turned eleven his core would be shattered by the punishments he'd surely receive for any accidental magic. If a wizard child was convinced their magic was wrong, sometimes their magical core would simply shatter because it wasn't strong enough to weather the damage.

Harry couldn't very well be accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if he had no magic. This would make his life so much easier, only wooing one child and keeping Evan in the limelight.

As Albus had been contemplating, time had continued creeping along despite him, as it was wont to do. The roar of a motorcycle outside was the only thing that managed to shock him from his paralysis and get him to apparate to 13 Anchord Park. It was the agreed meet point for him, Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid.

"Hello Professor McGonagall," he said calmly to the woman.

"Albus. Good, you're here. Now, what's happened with the Potters? Is it something to do with their twins?" She asked, standing stiff as a board with painfully correct posture, a black witches hat, and flowing green robes that suited her graying hair and stress wrinkled face.

Minerva had never met the children, but Lily had been one of her prize pupils and Albus had made sure to inform her of the false prophecy. Not that it was false, of course, merely that it existed. The woman was but a pawn in the game he played.

"I do not yet know myself, but Hagrid will be coming with news. He investigated the disturbance called in near Godric's Hollow."

"Hagrid? Are you sure it was wise to send him into such a potentially delicate situation like this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," Albus said earnestly.

He didn't, of course. That stupid oaf would as likely kill him on accident as manage to help him. His illegal spell craft was shaky at best, and Albus only kept him around because people couldn't help liking the half-giant. He instilled trust in people, and that could be very valuable indeed.

Also, the words were important in maintaining his identity. He had to constantly prove himself to be a trusting, loyal, wise, and grandfatherly old man. Especially among small groups, it was imperative he give them no cause to doubt him.

Roughly ten minutes after his declaration, Hagrid arrived on a flying motorcycle he'd likely borrowed from one Mr. Sirius Black. Albus' brow started furrowing at the thought of Sirius, and he forced himself to smooth it out quickly. He couldn't forget his present company.

The young Black was distressingly close to discovering his true nature, and he simply couldn't have that. Later, he'd do something about it.

Hagrid disembarked from the vehicle, tears glistening on his ruddy cheeks, with large bundle held securely in his arms.

"Dumbledore, Professor," he said, sniffling noisily as he nodded his large head to each in turn.

"Well Hagrid, what's happened?" McGonagall asked, her words coming out brisk from the tension she'd built up waiting.

"James an' Lily're dead! Figure James'd been crucioed 'afore he died, but Lily w's jus' lyin' there peaceful as sleepin'. The little 'uns, they're alive though. Both of 'em, Evan and Harry."

As he finished, he tucked back a fold of the blanket in his arms to reveal the faces of two sleeping toddlers, each wrapped in their own blankets beneath the main one. An average sized person likely wouldn't have been able to hold both babies at once comfortably, but Hagrid managed it with ease.

Side by side as they were, the contrast between the two infants was blatant. Harry looked downright sickly when compared to his twin, with high cheekbones already recognizable in his face.

Sighing deeply as if he were greatly relieved at seeing the twins alive, Albus reached out towards Hagrid to take a child. He was handed Evan.

Feigning a gasp as if he'd only just now seen the boy's scar, he whispered theatrically for the benefit of his audience, "James Potter is the boy who lived! For him to have survived, he must have bested Voldemort's spell somehow."

"What does this mean?" The professor asked, sounding both awed and a bit apprehensive.

"He must be raised in a wizarding family to strengthen his gifts! Perhaps the Longbottoms? No, that won't do. Not with little Neville under his grandmother's care now. Not the Abbotts or the Weasleys either. Maybe a family without children? Laurence and Aurelia Chorus would work, they've been trying for a child for years, and they'll be able to care for Evan with no distractions.

"I'm afraid though, for young Harry's sake. I believe it best we separate them. We don't want Harry to grow up constantly overshadowed by his older brother and getting jealous. We should place him in the care of his aunt, she has a little boy too, a year older than the twins. It's best if we interfere as little as possible with Harry. He should get a chance at a normal life."

"With muggles?" McGonagall asked, shocked.

"It would be for the best," Albus replied soberly, imbuing his words with as much gravity and sorrow as he could.

Sighing, she conceded easily, and he had to force himself not to smirk at how mindlessly his followers obeyed him. The fools needed a strong leader making the decisions for them. He bet that they wouldn't even last a day without a strong hand on the reins.

He gave Evan to Minerva and took Harry from Hagrid, causing him to go into hysterics. After he managed to calm down enough for words, Hagrid bade the twins a very tearful and drawn out goodbye.

McGonagall took Evan to the overjoyed Chorus family, and explained the situation. He was quickly adopted, but for his popularity's sake, he kept the surname Potter.

Harry was taken to Number 4 Privet Drive, where Albus tucked him into a wicker basket to keep him out of the dew. By means of a succinct letter, he informed the Dursleys of the Potters' untimely deaths and how Harry fell under their guardianship. No support funds were given, and Harry was left on the front stoop wrapped in a soft blue blanket, in a wicker basket, with a letter tucked in next to him.