After a month of scrounging, brewing, carving and collecting supplies, they were finally ready.
"We're done." Millie looked at large rock in the woods where they had carved their circle. "Are you ready? Because I'm not."
"Want to cancel the trip?" Dudley put an arm around her waist.
"No. Yes. No. I don't know." Millie sighed. "It should be Granger and Potter making this trip. "They have all the information, they'd know exactly what to do."
"But they're not here. Nobody has heard of them in while. Not even Potterwatch knows anything. So it has to be us. And if the only thing we manage is a better childhood for Harry, maybe that'll be enough."
"It may have to be. It may have to be." Millie straightened her back. "To-night then?"
"To-night" Dudley kissed her.
The circle was laid out in copper wire, the symbols drawn in spray-paint, the potion was running in the groove Millie carved out of the stone. While Dudley held tightly on to her within the circle, she moved the copper-wound wand and chanted the words.
And while Dudley held on for dear life, the copper around them was melting and a shimmer sprung up enclosing them and the sky was hidden behind blue flames and he was getting dizzy and he was keeping his hands around her waist and the fire washed over them and then it was over.
They both collapsed on the weathered rock, a rock absolutely pristine and untouched.
"Welcome to 1981, Mrs. Evans" Dudley said.
They spent the first weeks on the continent, establishing them both as the children of wayward world-bumming parents. His father was created to be the recently deceased Albert Evans, older brother of Harold Evans, father of Petunia and Lily. Albert Evans left England on a freighter a few years before Petunia was born and bummed around the world. He met a nice girl in South Africa, had a boy with her and when his feet itched, he took the two-year-old with him. They slipped a nice hefty life insurance into the books in Spain and planned to cash it out in Germany.
"Won't the wizard police notice that?" Dudley asked.
"They don't care about muggles here in Spain. Would be harder in the german states, but they won't check pure muggle papers. At least in 1996 they wouldn't, but I guess that didn't change much." Millie was well schooled in the intricacies of muggle bureaucracy. Her father made quite a nice living navigating the cracks.
A little later they slipped a birth certificate into the registers of a sleepy little town in the Toscana and Millicent Blaise was born, the daughter of a nice girl from England that had one lovely night to many and left before her parents got wind of it. They established her as a nice woman, single mother, who spent her time teaching english to hard-headed brats across Europe until her car crash a few weeks ago in Turkey. Millie didn't have a life insurance, but her mum had a little nest egg of jewelry nobody would miss, so she sold it and went back-packing across Europe.
They officially met in Munich, where Martin Evans was wrangling the paperwork to get his payout from the life insurance. It was a whirlwind romance and while the prejudices against muggles weren't that much better in wizarding Germany, the magical government came down hard on any overt expression. It was relatively easy for them to get their marriage papers.
They got married in a rather dry ceremony in a small office. They commandeered two workers in the office as the witnesses german law requires and left half an hour later as Mr. and Mrs. Evans, British nationals duly married in Munich all their papers and identity in order.