Prologue
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley are proud to say they are extremely normal. There is not a hair on their head that is abnormal, and they would like to keep it that way. The Dursleys live in a little street called little Whinging in the fourth house on the street.
The houses in little Whinging looks like someone pressed copy and paste, for all of them look the same. They all had the same boring light brown roofs with white pristine walls. The same brown doors (lighter than the roof), with healthy green grass and neatly cut bushes.
Mr. Dursley hummed to himself as he picked the most boring tie for his equally boring job at his drill company, Brunnings. His loud footsteps echoed throughout the house as he descended the stairs, cringing when the last step creaked under his weight. Mrs. Dursley smiled happily to herself as he wrestled a screaming Dudley into his highchair. She gave Mr. Dursley a peck on the cheek. Mr. Durley tried to kiss Dudley on his forehead but missed when he threw his cereal at the wall. “Little tyke,” Mr. Durley chuckled to himself leaving for work.
As Mr. Dursley drove to the end of the street he saw a cat, not just any cat but a cat reading a sign- no, not reading looking, cats can’t read he reminded himself, with that in mind Mr. Dursley continued down the street his mind wondering to all the scams- I mean business deals he could make that day. Unfortunately for him the weirdness didn’t end there, near his work there were strange people around. People wearing cloaks, ‘must be some kind of trend for young people, or maybe it’s because Halloween was yesterday, they are still in costume’ Mr. Dursley reassured himself. With that in mind he went back to drills.
Mr. Dursley was having an excellent morning. He yelled at a few workers, made some successful deals, yelled some more. Overall, it was a great morning, all thoughts of the cat reading, sorry, looking at the sign and the strange people in cloaks are out of his mind. Around lunchtime Mr. Dursley faced away from his window thinking about what to do for lunch, did he want to go to the bakery or have some proper food at the restaurant near his work. Maybe if Mr. Dursley wasn't so lost in thought about food and his back to the big windows towering over the pedestrians, he missed the flocks of owls flying by. The people down below were a different story though, they pointed up and whispered among themselves.
During his lunch break Mr. Dursley decided to treat himself to a bun. Walking out of the bakery, bun in hand, he passed a group of strange people from this morning whispering among themselves. “Did you hear-”
“The Potters-”
“Yes, and their son Harry-”
The Potters? Where has he herd that last name before? The Potters were on his mind as Vernon walked back to his office. He snapped at his secretary to not let anyone disturb him. As he sat at his desk wondering who the Potters where, and were did he hear the name from, his eyes drifted over to a picture of his son and wife.
His son, barely there, blonde hair gleamed in the artificial light, he has pudgy pink skin and scowl on his face. His wife on the other hand had a smile on her bony face. The rest of her bony body was hidden by Dudley from where he was sitting on her lap. It hit him like a brick. Didn’t Petunia have a (freaky) younger sister who married a man with the last name Potter, and another one named Black?
Flashes of a young woman with green eyes sparkling with humour and hidden emotions, holding hands with two men. One had startling green eyes slightly different than the woman’s, and fair skin, the other with hazel eyes and espresso skin. He sits up quickly, grabbing the telephone. He was halfway through dialling his home number to tell Petunia when he stopped. A thought occurred to him (although that doesn't happen often). Mr Dursley didn’t want to bother Mrs Dursley. She already despises any mention of her younger sister. As long as she doesn't find out everything will be ok. Taking a bite out of his forgotten bun Mr Dursley sank back into his chair, his mind slowly going back to drills.
Unlike that morning Mr Dursley doesn't forget about the strange people in cloaks. When walking back to his car parked out the front, trying and failing at not bumping into the strange people, bumped into someone (who to his horror was one of the cloaked people). “Sorry.” Mr Dursley said gruffly, his mother raised him polite after all.
“Not to worry,” a voice squeaked out from the floor. The strange man picked himself up (he stood around Vernon's waist) rambling on “even muggles like yourself should be celebrating, for you-know-who is finally gone!” and with that the short man (to Mr Dursleys ever growing horror) hugged Mr Dursley around the middle then skipped off. Mr Dursley stood frozen for what seemed like a minute then promptly speed walked to his car and driving away.
Pulling up into the driveway Mr Dursley spotted a familiar face on his stone wall. It was the cat that was reading (looking, that cat was looking, cats can’t read) the sign this morning. “Shoo.” The cat stared blankly at him not moving. “Get off, away with you!” the cat didn’t flinch. Giving up, Mr Dursley went inside where his wife was putting dinner on the table with Dudley in his highchair already. Petunia and Vernon seared a quick kiss.
The family sat and talked about their day. Vernon learned how Dudley had learned a new word ‘Shan’t.’ Vernon made sure that there wasn’t any mention of the Potters. That night the news report was strange, there were fireworks being let off, a bunch of owls flying about. Mr Dursley suspected it had something to do with the strange people in cloaks. While Mrs Dursley got ready in the bathroom Mr Dursley peaked through the curtains looking at the cat on the wall. Said cat was looking unblinking at the end of the street seemingly waiting for something or someone. Mr Dursley returned back to bed when Mrs Dursley came out of the bathroom. Petunia fell asleep easily while Vernon laid awake for a bit, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.
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It wasn’t till midnight did the cat on the wall moved. At the end of the street there was a faint pop, as a man appeared. This man wore the most horrendous of outfit ever; bright purple robes with orange shapes that seemed to move around on the fabric if you looked too long. The man wore yellow high heels shoes with buckles on them. His shiny white bread was so long that it had to be tucked into his belt as to not drag on the ground.
The man walked up to a streetlamp and pulled out a silver light. He flicked it open and held it up to the lamp. There was no flame when the man flicked the flint wheel. A moment after the light in the lamp disappeared, for it was sucked into the lighter. He did the same for the other lamps, holding the lighter in that general direction.
With all the lamps now out, the only light are the unblinking yellow eyes of the cat on the stone wall in front of number 4 Privet Drive. The old man finally realised he was being watched and looked up from where he was putting the lighter away. He chuckled to himself. The strangely dressed man walked up to the cat, his heels clicking on the ground softly. He sat down on the stone wall next to the cat, who has been watching his every move unblinking, and said “I should have known you would be here Professor McGonagall.” When he turned to face the cat, he found himself face to face with a stern looking woman. “I am assuming Hagrid told you.”
“Of course,” the woman, McGonagall, replied briskly “that man couldn’t keep a secret from me even if his life depended on it. I know him too well.” McGonagall chuckled a bit although it sounded a bit sad. They sat in silence for a little while. “Is it true Albus? Are the rumours true, are they really-”
“Yes, I am afraid they are.”
“Oh.” McGonagall said, her voice coming out softly. For a moment she looked so weak, about to burst out crying any moment, then she gathered herself. “And what about Harry. Everyone is saying that he vanquished you-know-who that night?”
“Minerva please I have been trying to convince people for eleven years now, his name is Voldemort,” he ignored the way McGonagall flinched and ploughed on, “not any of this you-know-who and he-who-must-not-be-named nonsense.”
McGonagall's eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows became pinched “Albus you do realise that his name has a taboo on it and can’t be said? You're the only one who doesn't care about that.”
Dumbledore sighed to himself checking the watch on his wrist. Just like everything about him, Dumbledore's watch looked odd. It had stars and planets instead of numbers, and the hands were all wonky; it resembles a nose that has been broken too many times like Dumbledore's. “Hagrid should be here soon” Dumbledore informed Minerva.
“Hagrid? Why is Hagrid coming here-” a look of realization crossed her face “Albus! You can’t be serious! You want to put Harry here with them!” at that she jumped off the wall reeling on Dumbledore, pointing towards the house.
“Now dear Minerva, you must understand,” there was a twinkle in his eyes when he looked up at McGonagall smiling trying to calm her “this is the only family he has-”
McGonagall’s face contorted to one of anger, her Scottish accent coming out the more she talks, “The only family he has? That’s bull and you know it, I have been watching these muggles all day and they are the worst sort of muggles imaginable.”
“My dear-”
“No! You listen to me Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter shall not go to this house no matter what you believe! Harry has lodes of people that are more than willing to take him under their wing” Albus was slowly losing his patience with McGonagall who was on a roll determined to protect the young potter “I will even raise him, especially considering the fact that I am his godmother or maybe his other godparents. And what about the Malfoys? I mean not to mention you aren’t even supposed to dictate where they boy goes, that job belongs to his magical guardian who, may I remind you, is not you! So really this whole thing is considered kidnapping which is punishable by a fate worse than death for kids are the most precious thing. And-”
“Obliviate.” Dumbledore had enough of Minerva’s rant, if she continued behaving like this then she might disrupt his plans. No, it’s better to make her complaint, it seems he will need to slip more compulsions onto her. “What – what happened?” McGonagall’s confused voice pulled Albus back to reality (he made note to obliviate Snape as well, to ensure that this hiccup won’t happen twice).
“You were just agreeing with me that Harry is safe here with his only relatives.”
“I-” a loud roar interrupted them both. The two older wizards looked both ways down the road seeing nothing but darkness when another loud roar made them look up. They saw bright headlights coming towards them.