Alexis Palmer's first memory was of a time when she was only one. It was November 1, but she didn't know that.
She was lying in her cot by the window. The crack; the crack had gotten her attention. It was from outside the street.
She had to look. She just had to. In front of her was a peculiar scene. A very old man in purple robes with a pointy hat to match was walking down Privet Drive to a calico cat sitting on the garden wall across the way, which was #4.
Alexis' room was dark, for her nightlight wasn't on. If she didn't make a sound, he wouldn't see her. He couldn't see her.
But this was one of her last glimpses of her first memory, for the old man had taken out a cigarette lighter and sucked in the light from the streetlamps, as if like magic.
Alexis heard many things that night. A motorcycle engine roaring as if it had fallen out of the sky, lots of crying, and a rough voice sobbing, "But I c-c-can't stand it- Lily an' James dead- and poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles-"
After a while, the street lamps went back on. And the last thing Alexis can remember was a calico cat scampering away, the old man disappearing with another crack, and a little bundle of blankets on the doorstep across the way.