In the average, boring neighborhood of Privet Drive, Little Wington, Surry, a strange looking man suddenly appeared. He had black hair that suddenly shifted to straw blond halfway through, a close cropped goatee, and a red long coat.

Azazel knew he stood out like a sore thumb and didn't particularly care, staring at an orb with a needle hung from it in defiance of gravity. Walking forwards, he followed it until he reached the house he was being pointed towards.

Knocking, he waited patiently for a horse faced woman to open the door. Azazel gave a blinding smile, and said, "Can I come in?"

"And who are you?" The woman, Petunia Dursley, said suspiciously.

"I'm a recruiter for carve Nephilim Institute, a school for gifted children."

The woman seemed to light up at that, gesturing for him to come in, which Azazel did, glancing at his compass.

…Why was it pointing under the stairs?

"I'm glad someone recognized Dudley's potential," Petunia said in a sickly sweet voice, only to stop as Azazel walked over to the cupboard door, "Oh, we don't use that-"

Azazel kicked the door off its hinges, looking at his goal. Harry Potter was curled up on his bed, a shadowy creature swirling around him as he turned his head, revealing a black tie wrapped around his eyes. He was rail thin, almost to an unhealthy extent, though Azazel knew from Fleamont and James that was just how Potters were built.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked carefully.

"Nah," he said, stepping in and pulling off the tie, watching Harry blink several times, "I'm a friend of your family. I wanted to know if you wanted out of this place and into my school."

"Really?" Harry said, caution in his voice.

"You cause people to randomly freeze, right? That's called Forbidden Balor View, which is something rare called a Sacred Gear. I could train you to use it at Nephilim.

Petunia was sputtering and trying to find words behind him, but Azazel ignored it to focus on Harry.

"I don't think Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would pay-"

"Kid, I'd pay them to take you off their hands, and I mean that seriously," Azazel reached into his pocket and pulled out a frankly absurd amount of 50 Pound Sterlings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Petunia light up, eyes sparkling greedily and mouth snapping shit, "Come with me, I give them the money, and you never have to see them again."

"For real?"

"For real," Azazel said, "take my hand, I'll hand the cash to Petunia and we'll get the hell out of here."

Harry reached out, carefully, and took the hand. Letting himself be pulled up and watching Azazel hand Petunia the money, walking out of the house.

"Don't tell her," he said quietly, "but those notes are counterfeit."

And then they were gone.