Playlist I'm listening to: my liked songs on Spotify. Listening to music helps me focus better when I'm writing. So, any song suggestions would be greatly appreciated. My genres are soundtracks, rock, some pop, and epic. By epic, I mean like Audiomachine and Two Steps from Hell.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley prided themselves on being normal. Their house, immaculate beyond belief, was held in such high standard that neighbours often found themselves trying to copy the very image that beheld the small family of three.
Mr. Dursley, a rotund man with a triple chin, blond hair, and small piggy eyes, directed a drilling company named Grunnings that primarily ran in England but hoped to expand beyond the borders. Humming, he fixed his tie and picked up the matching blazer to his blue dress trousers and headed downstairs into the kitchen to join his doting wife and gorgeous son, Dudley.
Mrs. Dursley was tall, thin, and sported luscious locks of red that she took great pride in maintaining even as she wrestled a screaming, red-faced Dudley into his highchair to give him his breakfast. As Mr. Dursley sat down at the table, he poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced at the morning newspaper, scanning the headlines for any mention of his rival drilling companies. Mrs. Dursley expertly prepared Dudley's breakfast, managing to calm him down with a few soothing words and a gentle pat on the back. Despite the chaos of the morning routine, the Dursleys were a picture-perfect family, at least on the outside.
For they had a secret. A secret that, if it got out, would shatter their perfect image to the outside world. Mrs. Dursley had a sister. A sister that she hadn't heard from in quite some time, and though she hoped that it stayed that way, she couldn't help but feel worried. She had always known that her sister was involved in a different world than the one they lived in, but recently, rumours had been swirling about her sister's involvement in some shady dealings. Mrs. Dursley tried to push these thoughts to the back of her mind as she focused on the task at hand. However, as she watched Dudley devour his breakfast with the same ferocity he displayed in everything he did, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change in their seemingly perfect lives, even as Mr. Dursley kissed her on her cheek, tried and failed to do the same to Dudley before giving a chortle, and left the house to go to work.
The day went by as usual for Mrs. Dursley.
The same, however, could not be said about Mr. Dursley. A tabby cat had taken up residency on his perfect fence and would not move when he tried to shoo it away. It just gave him an unnervingly disinterested look as he got into his car and backed out of the driveway. Looking into the rearview mirror, he swore he saw that same cat... now reading a map! He shook his head to rid himself of the image and continued driving. Cat's did not read maps.
After the usual traffic jam, he arrived at the office and parked in his usual spot before spying a couple whispering to one another out of the corner of his eye. They seemed to be looking in his direction, causing Mr. Dursley to feel a sudden pang of unease. Ignoring the feeling, he walked briskly into the office building, trying to push aside the nagging sense that something was off. As he settled in, answering emails to an American firm called Fentonworks, he soon lost himself in his work, never noticing that the couple in the car park were the least of his problems.
His desk, which was kept clear of any mess, faced the rest of the floor, allowing Mr. Dursley to keep an eye on his employees. If it had been facing the window, he would have likely seen owls flying across the window.
While he was oblivious to the world outside, onlookers didn't get that luxury, as quite a few pointed out the unusual daytime activities of the usually nocturnal bird of prey. As the owls continued to capture the attention of passersby, Mr. Dursley remained focused on his work, unaware of the peculiar sight just outside his window.
Around lunchtime was the time when he decided to take a stroll and grab a bite to eat from the bakery across the street. Thankful for the air his walk would give him, he took in the surrounding street and noticed some peculiar folk whispering excitedly in hushed tones, the words "Potter," "Daniel," and "Harry" interspersing into their conversation every few seconds. Shaking it off, he went into the bakery and was soon heading back to the office with a pastry and coffee in hand. Though, as he waited for the light to turn, he suddenly found himself hugged around the middle by a man.
"Rejoice, for today, You-Know-Who has finally been defeated." He said, in a squeaky voice, his face lit up with glee, "Even muggles like yourself should be celebrating."
The man left, but not without attention from others in the street who had overheard his announcement. It was then that Mr. Dursley noticed the cloak around the man's shoulders, and feeling a bit bewildered, Vernon quickly made his way back to the office, his mind buzzing with questions. Who was this "You-Know-Who" that had been defeated? And why was it such a cause for celebration? As he stepped into the office, he found his colleagues gathered around a radio, listening intently to the news. Snapping at his secretary to not disturb him, Vernon quickly closed the door and dialled his home phone. He was just one digit away from completing the number when he suddenly paused.
Was this really something to bother Petunia about? What if it were something else entirely? But then, what if her sister had something to do with it? She and her wierdo husband must have gotten themselves into something dangerous, right?
Shaking his head and clearing the thoughts from his mind, Vernon replaced the receiver and sat down at the desk to continue with the FentonWorks' account. As he began to review the financial statements, Vernon couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was not quite right. He kept glancing at the closed door, half expecting his secretary to burst in with some urgent news. Maybe he should have just called Petunia. After all, they had been married for just under three years. But then again, he didn't want to worry her unnecessarily in case it wasn't her sister. With a frustrated sigh, he focused all his energy on the task at hand, determined to finish the work before allowing himself to entertain any more distracting thoughts. Vernon knew that he needed to concentrate. The numbers on the page demanded his full attention, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Despite the unease that lingered in the back of his mind, he pushed forward, meticulously analysing each line item. Minutes turned into hours, and soon the room was bathed in the soft glow of the desk lamp. Finally, as he reached the end of the statements, a sense of relief washed over him. Everything seemed to be in order, and the troubling feeling began to disperse. Maybe it was just his imagination after all.
FentonWorks account set up finally, he quickly found the end of the day approaching as he finished off the last email of the day and sent it off before clocking out of the office and going down to the car park and the relative safety of his home. As he drove home, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment after a productive day at work. Luckily, there was no sign of the cat from that morning, which he was thankful for. The worries that had plagued him earlier were now replaced with a feeling of satisfaction. He couldn't wait to relax and unwind at home, knowing that everything was in order at work. The soft glow of the desk lamp seemed like a distant memory now as he settled in for a peaceful evening.
As Petunia prattled on about her day, how the couple from number 6 had been arguing about their current situation and how Dudley had learned a new word, NO!, Vernon gave a soft smile before he found himself thinking of the odd day he'd had. Sitting up, he leaned forward and looked his wife in the eye before he dared to ask, "Pet? You haven't heard from your sister recently, have you?"
Petunia's lips thinned before she was curtly answering no. Vernon's unease grew as he sensed Petunia's sudden tension. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was off. Ignoring Dudley's loud protests in the background, Vernon pressed on, "Are you sure, Pet? It just seems strange, that's all." Petunia's expression hardened, but Vernon pressed on, "What were her son's names? Harold and D-something?"
"Harry and Daniel. Nasty common names if you ask me." Petunia forced out, "She never had good taste in names."
Suddenly, realisation dawned on Vernon as he remembered the names that had been mentioned earlier that day. Harry and Daniel were the names of Petunia's estranged sister's children. The connection made his blood run cold as he tried to piece together the puzzle in his mind. Ignoring the icy glare from Petunia, he had a feeling that something had to have happened to the two boys.
As the evening drew on, the small family slowly went to the upper floor, light flicking off one at a time, and the house fell silent.
Outside the house, a small tabby cat emerged from a hedgerow and sat on the fence, looking at the house it was in front of before beginning to wash itself before looking down the road, as if waiting for something or someone to arrive. It's ears flicked to the sounds of cars revving in the distance and then to the sounds of the couple in number 6 arguing yet again. The cat's tail twitched slightly as it observed the neighbourhood, its eyes reflecting the dim streetlights. It seemed to be a silent observer, taking in the nightly activities with a sense of curiosity and calmness.
10 pm came and went as Number 6 stopped their arguing and went to sleep. But the cat still sat there, staring, unmoving, at the end of the street as a man appeared, seemingly out of thin air, before he was fumbling about with a pocket and dislodging something from within before he held the object up and the streetlamp went out, the ball of light becoming sucked out of the lightbulb. Again and again, the lights were extinguished as the man walked forward, his demeanour wise and whimsical, his presence commanding yet soothing. With a twinkle in his eye, he seemed to possess a deep understanding of the world around him, observing and guiding without intervening directly. The mysterious man exuded an aura of power and knowledge, his actions hinting at a hidden purpose beyond the mundane tasks of daily life, though he did look amused as he reached Number 4, Privet Drive, and laid eyes on the cat.
"I should have known you would be here." He said, smile in place, "Professor McGonagall."
"I implore you, Albus. Don't separate the boys. And don't leave one with these people." A woman's voice could be heard pleading with her companion, "Both have lost their parents this night. I can't bear to think of them being alone."
In robes that would have been odd on any other day, her companion, an elderly man with long white hair and a matching beard, glanced into Minerva McGonagall's stern cat-like eyes before swiftly averting his gaze once more and responding, "It is better this way, my dear Minerva. Both brothers might probably be exploited in our world for power gain or similar purposes now that Voldemort has been defeated. What may happen if they were held together? I apologise, Professor."
"You think he could..."
"Even I don't know what the future holds, Minerva. James and Lily didn't express their wishes to me before they went into hiding. By that time, they had already given birth to the boys."
"But, Harry and Da-" Minerva started to say the name but was cut off when a massive motorcycle came crashing down from the sky and roared through the street. With this as the cause of the roaring, the engine soon stopped when a man taller than the two of them dismounted. It was Hagrid, and he was carrying two bundles in his arms.
"Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid greeted them, his voice shaking slightly with unshed tears as he walked toward them, both bundles murmuring sound asleep. Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances, their hearts heavy with the weight of the situation. The orphaned sons of Lily and James Potter.
As Hagrid approached, they could see the striking resemblance between the boys. While Dumbledore gently took one, Minerva couldn't bear to watch and gently relieved Hagrid of the other infant. She gently cooed as the baby's blue eyes opened and gazed up at her before closing again, the child falling back into sleep. Dumbledore held the baby in his arms, marvelling at the tuft of dark hair that adorned his head, while McGonagall cradled the other, feeling a surge of protectiveness toward the helpless child. It was a tragic sight, the two infants now without parents, but they knew they would do everything in their power to ensure the boys were safe and loved. As they made their way to the front step of the house, Minerva couldn't help but plead once more to Dumbledore, "Albus, please rethink this. These people are the worst sort of muggle to leave Harry with. They really are…"
"The only family he has left. Besides the young one you hold, Minerva." Dumbledore finished softly, looking back at his colleague before placing his bundle on the doorstep, along with a letter, "They both will come back to us in due time. For now, though, let them rest as we travel to the colonies."
Hagrid said something about giving the motorbike back to a Sirius Black before the gang departed, taking one last glance at Harry Potter's tiny sleeping face. Although Dumbledore was aware of the danger of abandoning Harry to the Dursleys, he had faith in the magic that bound them together. Whether it was the appropriate choice would become clear with time. Minerva hoped the two kids would be secure until they returned, but she couldn't help but worry about their safety as they apparated away. After a long and difficult voyage to the colonies, they all agreed that it was for the greater good when they arrived in a little town and laid the twin and another letter on the step of a house.
A small hand gripped the corner of the letter as the young boy stirred, the new cut on his forehead illuminated by the enormous neon lights above them. But he continued to sleep, unaware that he had been cut off from his brother and the only family he had left, unaware that something bursting in the home would wake him up in an hour or that this would now become the new normal for him.
Knowing that placing the twins in different homes was the safest course of action under the circumstances, the couple gently withdrew into the coming night. The letter informed the future guardians of the boy's origins and begged them to raise the child and tell him when he was old enough to understand. The neon streetlights overhead flashed, creating a sombre image of the split siblings beginning a new life apart, oblivious to the difficulties that lay ahead.