Preface:
"What are we going to do, Vernon?" Petunia Dursley gasped, staring at the four bundles on her doorstep. She held a letter in her bony hand. "It says we're to keep them!"
"Well, that is out of the question!" Vernon growled. "Perhaps if there were only one brat, but four is simply too much to ask of any person! Not to mention what their parents are…"
Petunia nodded in agreement.
"Here's what I'll do," decided Vernon. "I'll drive somewhere, Kent or Sussex perhaps, and leave them on a doorstep."
Petunia nodded again in agreement.
"Tonight, though," she said. "So that the neighbours won't see you."
Vernon nodded, kissed his wife and a screaming Dudley goodbye, and left for work.
That day, the babies – Harry, Jamie, Alice, and Lilith Potter – received one bottle of milk, a banana, a piece of bread, and a diaper change each. Petunia left them on the living room floor behind a child safety fence. They were given two broken toys of Dudley's to play with, and all their questions about, "Mummy" and "Daddy" were ignored.
At around six, Vernon returned. He buckled the one-year-olds into the back seat, and drove off.
After awhile, he stopped at the coast in Seven Sisters, East Sussex. He quickly located a large two-story, cream coloured house – perhaps if he found a wealthier family they would be less likely to try and return them? – scribbled a note, and left the four sleeping children on the doorstep.
Harry, Jamie, Lilith, and Alice Potter had no idea, as they slept curled up on a doorstep yet again, this time in the salty sea breeze, that they would soon be re-named Orion, Griffin, Sunny, and Violet St. Clair. They had no idea that in ten years they would learn that Chastity St. Clair wasn't their mother, and that they were witches and wizards.
They had no idea what the scars on their heads meant: Harry's a lightening bolt, Jamie's a sun, Alice's a star, and Lilith's a crescent moon.