Malcolm Dresden was visiting Petunia Dursley, his niece, at Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey, England when baby Harry was dropped on their doorstep. It was a family stop, to see her baby – it was also a chance to introduce Margaret Gwendolyn LeFey, his wife. A witch.
"What will you do?" Malcolm held the baby, as he asked this of Petunia who held her own baby Dudley, and her husband Vernon wrapped a supporting arm about her shoulders. It had been, after all, their doorstep. They had a right to an opinion, but that would not be the final decision if their choice was not one to his – their, he knew with a glance his wife gave him – liking.
"We can't raise him, it's too much – Lily…Lily would never have asked this of us, it's them uncle, it has to be." Petunia nodded to Margaret, as if his wife stood for all those who possessed magic like her sister had.
"In this, I agree." Margaret sighed, sticking out her pinky which baby Harry clings to.
"We…we could give him up for adoption." Vernon suggested, hesitatingly.
"That would solve nothing, they would find him, give him away, again and again, until he finds a home where none would see him for what he is." Margaret argued, narrow eyed and watching the baby as she thought.
"And what is he?" Petunia asked, with a sneer. She would have no child with magic under her roof. It wasn't in her, and certainly not in her blood. The line of magic in Malcolm's family, he feared, ended with Lily.
"Family…." Malcolm says a word that makes Vernon Dursley flinch. Both look away, ashamed.
"We will take him in." Margaret decides then and there, her own belly big with their coming child. When she dies giving birth, and a babe is stillborn, no one takes much notice that Malcolm Dresden raises his son (his niece's son) with the name Harry Dresden.