Chapter Text
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
[Come on, you know what happens here: normal Dursleys, Cat McGonagall reading a map, Dumbledore zipping lights, Hagrid and the motorbike, McGonagall unimpressed with Dumbledore’s plan…and baby Harry ending up on the perfectly ordinary doorstep, Dumbledore leaves with a swish of his so not ordinary cloak]
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen.
This silence, for even birds were quiet in November nights, was broken by a sizzling sound. A circle of sparks appeared. For the second time that night, a figure clad in clothes that did certainly not belong in Privet Drive, stepped on the path of number four.
The cloak was of an inky dark blue, almost invisible in the dark of the night if not for the shimmer of the streetlights. The figure put their hands on their hips, shaking their hooded head. They bent down and carefully picked up the bundle, pressing it to their chest.
The little boy hardly stirred, as he was carried through the still sizzling ring of orange sparks.