Chapter Text
It was late at night when a man suddenly appeared on Private Drive, in Surrey, accompanied by a soft pop. He was rather unlike anyone else who had ever been in such a neighborhood. Tall, thin, very old, with silver hair and beard long enough to be worn as a belt had he been so inclined. Long purple robes and cloak that just barely dragged on the ground. Bright blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. A long nose, broken in times gone by and never healed right. One Albus Dumbledore.
Pulling out a small device and clicking it several times, the streetlights went out one by one in time to the clicks, casting the whole street into such darkness that muggles couldn’t possibly clearly see what was going on outside their homes had they been awake and inclined to look.
Dumbledore walked to Number 4, Privet Drive, a home so boring as to, without magic at all, push most people’s eyes away from it subconsciously. He found someone waiting for him.
Minerva McGonagall was a strict-looking woman with square glasses, an emerald robe and cloak, and black hair done up in a bun. She was standing in front of the house, and had been discreetly watching them for some time. After some small talk between the two, a loud crack sounded the sudden arrival of a very large man, Rubeus Hagrid, who had appeared out of thin air, not dissimilarly to the way Dumbledore had earlier. He wasn’t overweight so much as just scaled up rather a lot. In his arms was a baby swaddled in a great many blankets, a lightning bolt scar on its forehead.
Dumbledore mentioned he was here to ensure Harry was dropped off with his only living relatives, the Dursleys, much to the outrage of McGonagall.
After some heated arguing, with both McGonagall and Hagrid protesting the arrangement and nonetheless being overruled by Dumbledore, the baby was placed on the Dursley’s doorstep along with a letter, and the three wixen disappeared after giving the street back it’s lights, as suddenly as they had appeared.
In the morning, when Aunt Petunia was putting out the milk bottles, she found Harry on her doorstep. Outraged and unwilling to care for what she believed to be some irresponsible stranger’s child, she tossed the explanatory letter in the bin without giving it a read, and her and Vernon took the baby to the nearest adoption agency and left it on their doorstep. They didn’t know if that was how it worked, nor did they care. It was no longer their problem.