The night air in Pervert drive was silent and disturbingly still. An old man dressed in the strangest outfit stood in front of the house that belonged to the Dursley family. The bass of Hip-Hop music resonated off the walls, the vibrations were so hard it almost seemed as though the house was dancing to the quick and steady rhythm.
The man had a long, silvery beard that tickled his feet as he paced back and forth. He was clad in robes and donned a cone like hat with decorating stars and crescents that would only fit in at a Halloween party. It really wasn't so much the strange clothes that the man wore that would make even the most drunk alcoholic sure he hadn't seen correctly, but what was rare about this man was that he was actually -and some of the residents of pervert drive would shudder at the thought-clothed.
You see, ignorant reader, that this man, was, believe it or not, a wizard. The general impressions of wizards are that they are great phonies like that Wizard Of Oz. The self-proclaimed 'wizard' who could not really use his own 'magic' to send the poor girl, Dorothy, home. What more, he didn't even live in Australia for crying out loud. Some Wizard Of Oz.
This man, was a famous and great wizard- Ahmas Dumb-as-a-door-post, or Professor Dumbodoor for short.
The wizard peered through his half moon spectacles at his wrist watch, that was really a sundial on a strap. Sundials didn't work as well at night, for obvious reasons, but it was accurate enough to tell him that whoever he was waiting for was very late indeed. He was starting to get agitated. What if they didn't show?
A soft purr shattered his deep thoughts. He stared down at a cat who was affectionately pacing and rubbing itself against his shins. In a moment of sheer malice and impulse, he gave it a hard kick on its side. The feline gave a shriek of outrage and pain as it flew a few metres through the air and landed hard on the pavement with a thud, dazed and struggling pathetically to get back on it's feet.
"Always lands on its feet eh? Hah! A myth, a silly myth! I proved it myself." He spread his arms apart and turned around, addressing an imaginary audience which he fantasised to be other great scientists and educated men. Laughing to himself for his momentary act of childishness and cruelty, he took a deep breath of the night air. The air was fresh and he felt a sense of relief in that moment of tension. The air that entered his lungs was refreshing and revitalising. He turned back to look at the cat, which was still writhing in agony, semi-stunned in front of him. It then stopped and stared at its attacker in apprehension, yet not fleeing, perhaps too afraid to take flight.
"What are you looking at? Stupid animal.."
As he advanced to chase it off, the feline's fore feet started to change, its paws into fingers, and its head expanded and its ears shrunk. Its hind legs straightened and finally. In front of him stood a very flustered looking woman.
"Awmagawed, Minerva! I forgot.. Aww fa…"
He stared down at his robes. There was a sopping wet patch where his groin was. He covered it immediately and turned around, away from Minerva's view. Blushing with embarrassment, he talked quickly over his shoulder, "Where the hell is that half-wit, Fagid?"
"Ahem," Minerva began, clearing her throat and raised her eyebrows, making her already noticeable ageing lines even more visible under the moonlight.
"Apparently, the second hand BMX you got for him can't handle a big tub of lard AND a baby. I saw them on the way here, the axels were whining under the pressure. Is that.." she paused, "Is that… 50cent?"
The hair on Dumbodoor's back stood on end at the mention of the name. He nodded quickly, trying his best to keep 'Candy Shop' out of his ears.
"You can't possibly be thinking of sending the baby to stay with this family? They're torturing people in there!"
"That's the idea." Dumbodoor muttered, but only so low so Minerva could not hear.
Just then, they heard a roar above them. Looking up, they saw probably the biggest man in the world, on an enchanted flying bicycle that seemed ten times too small for him. Pseudo intellects even boasted that they had evidence that the man was indeed a descendant of the 'elephant man'.
"I'm 'ere! Got the lil' thing righ' 'ere! Aww, yeh' din have to welcome me that enthusiastically!"
Below him, both people waved frantically and gesturing for him to shut up.
He pedalled breathlessly. He wanted to make a grand entrance and made sure that he cycled directly in front of the full moon.
"Does he always have to do that E.T. thing?"
"He loves the theatrics."
"Aye! I learnt a new trick the other day! Lemme show ya'" Fagid called down in a booming voice.
Despite the yells from his friends to stop, he still attempted a wheelie.
Fagid soared through the air on his enchanted bicycle. In the bicycle basket a baby slept soundlessly, unaware of Fagid's reckless riding. Just then, Fagid spun his bike on a 360 degree turn on it's front wheel.
"Fagid! Be caref…"
In a moment of carelessness, Fagid had let the baby slip out of the basket. Baby, milk bottle and all were sent plummeting to the street below. Noone was able to catch it in time and it fell with a light thump on the porch of the Dursley house. Landing head first against the corner of the doorstep, the baby suffered a huge gash on its forehead, shaped strangely like a lightning bolt. Blood trickled down its forehead, yet it slept on undisturbed, or maybe it had been knocked unconscious.
"Let's get the hell outta here!"
Turning on their heels, all three of them fled into the darkness. Not wanting to be seen.