I own nothing Harry Potter related. It belongs to J.K. Rowling. I only own my OC's
A neighborhood on a street called Privet Drive. An owl, sitting on the street sign flies off to reveal a mysterious appearing old man walking through a forest near the street. He stops at the start of the street and takes out a mechanical device and zaps all the light out of the lampposts. He puts away the device and a cat meows. The man, Albus Dumbledore, looks down at the cat, which is a tabby and is sitting on a brick ledge.
Dumbledore: I should have known that you would be here...Professor McGonagall.
The cat meows, sniffs out and the camera pans back to a wall. The cat's shadow is seen progressing into a human. There are footsteps and Minerva McGonagall is revealed.
McGonagall: Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Are the rumors true, Albus?
Dumbledore: I'm afraid so, Professor. The good, and the bad.
McGonagall: And the children?
Dumbledore: Hagrid is bringing them.
McGonagall: Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?
Albus: Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life.
There is a motor sound, and the two professors look up to see a flying motorcycle coming down from the air. It skids on the street and halts. A large man, Rubeus Hagrid, takes off his goggles.
Hagrid: Professor Dumbledore, Sir. Professor McGonagall.
Dumbledore: No problems, I trust, Hagrid?
Hagrid: No, sir. Little tykes fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Heh. Try not to wake them. There you go.
Hagrid hands babies in blankets over to Dumbledore.
McGonagall: Albus, do you really think its safe, leaving them with these people? I've been watching them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. They really are…
Dumbledore: …The only family they have.
They stop outside a house.
McGonagall: These children will be famous. There won't be a child in our world that doesn't know their names.
Dumbledore: Exactly. They're better off growing up away from all that. Until they are ready.
Hagrid coughs and sniffles, he is crying. He clears his throat.
Dumbledore: There, there, Hagrid. It's not really good-bye, after all.
Hagrid nods. Dumbledore takes a letter and places it on the babies, who are now at the foot of the door. One of the babies has a visible lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
Dumbledore: Good luck...Harry, Grace, Taylor, and Amy Potter.