AN: I do not own Harry Potter, that right belongs to the wonderful J.. The information in this story comes from the HP books and HP Lexicon. Words in bold are not mine but the creation of J..

Now on with the story.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry." he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

Out of the shadows stepped another man, wearing an outfit of muggle jeans and zip up hoody. The man did not look much older than mid forties, but if you looked into his eyes, they would seem older, much older than the mid forties he looked to be.

The man strolled down the path until he reached number 4. Turning to look at the house, the man spotted what he had come for. Walking over to the baby basket, he bent down to look at his wife's descendant.

Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he should of been woken up by his aunt's scream. Picking up baby Harry and holding him in his arms, the man waved his hand and shrunk then levitated the basket to his pocket and walked off. Once the man reached the trees at the corner of the street, the man simply disappeared from view, not to be seen for another 13 years.

AN: This may be a short chapter but it is the prologue. Please Review so I know how well i'm doing.