Harry Potter and the Kettle of Milk
Author's note: I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Some of the names have been changed in the story because I was far too lazy to go back and change the names I had forgotten to the actual characters in the book. If you enjoy this, review it, it will be greatly appreciated.
It was a brisk October evening in London, England. All was quiet in front of an ordinary house on what seemed like an ordinary street. The leaves were changing color, the children all wrapped in sweaters, no one would guess that this is how our story would begin. All of a sudden, with a dull pop, a gallon of milk appeared on the front porch of the Hershey family. It remained still for several moments until two gentlemen walked directly in front of it and began speaking.
"A pleasure to see you Professor McGonagall" Dumbledore said with a wry smile addressing the jug.
Suddenly the gallon tipped over and began to slowly take the form of a strict older woman. "I was afraid you wouldn't know it was me" she confessed to them while brushing the excess milk off of her arm. "Have you got the boy?"
Hagrid released a loud wail and held up a basket containing a baby boy no older than a year. "Got him right here" he replied "It's just so upsetting."
"Quit your blubbering Hagrid, we don't need to muggles to hear you." Professor McGonagall snapped fixing Hagrid with a disapproving stare.
"Such a pity what happened to his parents. Who could have thought a simple bottle of milk could cause this mess?" Dumbledore sighed.
They placed the basket down in front of the door with a note explaining the situation to the Hershey's. Harry's future would now be in their hands. As the three walked away, seemingly disappearing into the darkness, Harry was left alone on the doorstep. Completely unaware of the legacy he had left behind that fateful night. Harry awoke the next morning to the screams of his aunt, Mrs. Hershey.
"Henry, get out here! There's a baby on the porch!"
Mr. Hershey rushed toward the sound of his wife's voice still in his slippers with the Sunday paper rolled up in his right hand "What are you on about now Christine? I was in the middle of a very important bowl of corn flakes. I was just about to add the marshmallows and it is a very delicate process, I am not to be disturbed" he said before looking down and noticing the wiggling bundle at his feet.