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SURREY, LITTLE WHINGING, Privet Drive, No. 4...

The people living in number four of Privet Drive were anything but strange. In fact, they were the most normal people one could find. No one would ever think that Mr and Mrs Dursley would be involved in anything remotely strange. They were proud to call themselves perfectly and completely ordinary.

But there was one secret that the Dursleys had --one that they had been hiding for ages. The one secret that they feared above all, one that they did not want anyone to find out about.

Petunia Dursley nee' Evans, was the elder sister of Lily Potter, however Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister. After all, what would one do if their sister were a good-for-nothing-freak?

Mrs Dursley was not fond of her sister as it is, and her marriage to James Potter simply added fuel to her already burning hatred. Petunia Dursley had decided that she wanted nothing to do with Lily Potter. The Dursleys did not ever want to be associated with the Potters, but then again, not everything goes according to our wishes, does it?

It was midnight and the night was dark -- it was the kind of night where people preferred to stay indoors. The sky was an inky black and the streets were vacant of people. The only source of illumination were the lamps lining the streets and the vivid light of the moon. A peculiar looking cat was sitting on a wall with her unblinking gaze fixed upon a far corner of Privet Drive, when suddenly a man -- unlike anyone to have ever been seen in Privet Drive -- appeared with a pop in the very corner the cat was keeping a watch over.

The man was tall and thin with long silver hair and a beard. His bright blue eyes were sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles, and he was wearing long purple robes along with high heel buckle boots. The man was different from anyone that had ever stepped foot in Privet Drive.

The old man, Albus Dumbledore, was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Scrabbling about in his purple cloak, he took out a silver cigarette lighter, a Deluminator --one he had designed himself. Flicking it open, he held it up in the air and clicked it twelve times. With each click a streetlight went out.

As Albus Dumbledore started making his way down the street to number four, he called out behind him, "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." Just as the words left his mouth, the silver tabby cat morphed itself into a stern looking woman.