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All was well in the small muggle town of Perlshaw, East Sussex. Until it wasn't.
Everything was normal to the inhabitants - it was a Saturday night and the bi-weekly film group was meeting in the hall attached to the church to watch Titanic - little Janey Sattler had been the name picked out of the hat at the previous showing, and so it was her turn to figure out what movie to watch. Titanic had been her mother's suggestion.
Across the road sat the White Swan Inn, and through the heavy oak doors out stumbled Nellie Mayden and her friends. The summer night's air hit them quickly, and alcohol-induced laughter. It had quite simply gotten far too busy and stuffy in there for Nellie to enjoy it any longer, and as half-past ten approached and the film club was nearing the end of it's meeting, the group of friends began their various ways home.
"I'll see you tomorrow Holly." Nellie smiled and rose her hand in a wave as she passed the very last cottage along that road and continued out onto her bush-lined path. Slowly, just like how the concentration of building had depleted, as did the number of glowing street lamps.
Nellie glanced behind her, deeming herself far enough away from the village as she pulled out a slender stick of wood from her bag. "Lumos." She muttered, and the blue-white light illuminated her way.
Some distance down the road, top-most roof illuminated against the purple-tinted sky (air pollution from the nearby town seemed to be getting even worse these days) was the Mayden Manor, where Nellie's husband was waiting for her return home.
Orson Mayden wasn't one to be awake at this time of night. He was far too old for gallavanting around town, although his younger wife wasn't - and who was he to stop her from seeing her friends, she had certainly put up with seeing many of his.
But given that his wife met up with her friends away from the house, the evenings in which she were gone had become his quiet time, when he could kick his feet up and watch that strange Muggle sport on the strange muggle contraption that showed moving pictures all whilst eating the remains of the chicken pie he and Nellie had shared the night before.
He was so engrossed in his game that he didn't hear the loud crack outside, didn't even see the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. The trees and bushes of their elaborate garden fluttered uneasily although there was no need.
Orson wouldn't notice that there wasn't the sound of the clunky old brass doorknob as the door creaked open, barely even looking away from the TV. "Nellie? I didn't realise it had gotten so late."
He didn't get a reply, and taking one last forkful of the pie he paused the Muggle sports match and turned around in his chair. There was no sign of Nellie in the hallway, although there was the blue glow of the porch light flooding through into it.
