Chapter Text
It was a quiet, pleasant evening on Privet Drive, number four. The residents of the street were blissfully unaware that, by nightfall, their world would be turned upside down.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley lived a perfectly normal life with their son, Dudley. Everything about them screamed ordinary—and they liked it that way. But tonight, their lives were about to take a turn they could never have expected.
Around nine o’clock, an old man appeared at the corner of Privet Drive. He was holding a peculiar-looking stick and walked with quiet purpose toward number four. As he approached, a cat trotted out from the shadows—only to suddenly transform into an elderly woman dressed in robes just as unusual as the man’s.
“Albus, you really should think twice before leaving the babies with these people,” the woman said sharply. “I’ve been watching them all day—they’re absolutely dreadful.”
“They're the only family the children have left, Minerva,” Albus replied calmly.
“But it’s not fair to them,” she argued, concern etched in her voice. “They’re James and Lily’s children. They deserve love. I doubt they’ll find any here.”
Dumbledore gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Minerva. They’ll be alright.”
Just then, the low rumble of an engine echoed through the air—a motorbike descended from the sky, landing gently on the street. Atop the flying motorcycle was a giant of a man.
“Hagrid,” Dumbledore greeted him. “Did you bring them?”
“Yes, sir. Got 'em right here,” Hagrid replied, his eyes red-rimmed. He carefully revealed two small, sleeping babies—identical in appearance, except one bore a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Minerva gasped. “Albus, why does only one of them have a scar?”
“Voldemort tried to kill them both,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “He attacked Harry first... and vanished.”
“Then isn’t the scar a mark?” Minerva asked. “Won’t that put Harry in more danger than his brother?”
“That’s why I must do this,” Dumbledore replied. He raised his wand and waved it over both infants. A moment later, a matching scar appeared on the second child’s forehead.
“No one must ever know which child truly survived the Killing Curse,” he said gravely. “If the truth gets out, one could be used against the other. As long as they are both believed to be the Boy Who Lived, we may have a chance at keeping them safe.”
With great care, he took the babies from Hagrid and placed them in a basket on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive. A letter rested atop the blankets, addressed to the Dursleys.
“Could I... could I say goodbye to them, sir?” Hagrid asked, his voice trembling.
He knelt beside them, brushing a tear from his cheek, and whispered his goodbyes to the sleeping twins.
Finally, Dumbledore crouched down, looked at the boys, and said gently, “We’ll be waiting for you, Harry and Harris Potter.”
And with that, the three figures disappeared into the night, leaving behind two children who would one day change the world.