Chapter Text
October 31st, 1981, waxing crescent
'Two-legs are so annoying' . Thought the stray black cat that night, normally at night barely any of the small two legs would be out and about but tonight it seemed since as far as it can remember of its 8 years of living on this street. wearing things in top of them and stepping on his tail waking him from his nap which made him hiss at them, he was partially satisfied with the way they ran away from him and the other small two legs kept their distance from him and that was exactly to his enjoyment. The other wood dens seem to be covered in many things that looked like a two-legs or a rag that he sometimes sees them hang up on a "wire" but with a shape on them like a face, nothing compared though to the pale face in the above it was small and curved like... something.
Either way it seemed like he wouldn't be able to sleep so he sought a spot in a tree so he could keep an eye out and not be vulnerable from any of their feet. As he was shuffling his paws past the alleyway, he felt the hairs on his back rise and he tensed as he looked to his right, nothing over there to the left, there. He couldn't make out what it was but it looked like a two-legs, but it felt like that mutt who used to bark at him from behind that wood wall near the bins where his mother kept him. Terrifying, so as a smaller two-legs was chirping at it, the stray sprang to the other side of the road and climbed the tree and trembled as it seemed to glide like the birds it caught, It did not notice him or maybe it didn’t consider him worthwhile to confront but he could see with his sharp eyes a deep red gaze.
Suddenly it seemed like he turned towards an empty patch of grass that the stray felt wary of and disappeared as if swallowed into the air and yet the stray kept its claws out and back tense as he was frozen in fear and in minutes though it felt like eternity to the stray that he saw a flash of green and the sound of something crumbling and the air moved as if something big was barreling towards him and he jumped in fright down to the ground as many mutts as if also as afraid as he was, barked in terror and anger as if to ward off a great beast and the stray tucked his tail and ran, ran as hard as his legs could carry him away from the green and the shadowy two-legs weaving through the legs of other twos as they surged to see what the commotion was. But the stray kept running, running even past the familiar neighborhood and ran so hard his heart gave out and he died. As a man with long dark hair stood in shock of the ruins arrived hours later on his motor bike and the aurors arrived setting up a barrier keeping the citizens away as a young baby cried with a bleeding scar of a lightning bolt on his forehead and the bodies of his parents buried in the collapsed section of the house, miraculously the baby was unharmed in his crib. So he was comforted by his godfather and given to a large man on someone's order while the godfather went to search for their judas, and thus Harry James Potter became an orphan and Voldemort was defeated by a mothers Love or so the public story goes.