Harry Potter and the Sacred Stone

CHAPTER 1 : DOORSTEP DELIVERY

The night was cloaked in a dense, suffocating darkness, broken only by the faint pools of light cast by the street lamps lining Privet Drive. Each lamp fought a losing battle against the encroaching shadows, their flickering light doing little to dispel the gloom that seemed to press in from all sides.

At the farthest end of the street, a figure slowly materialized from the darkness, as if the very shadows had shaped themselves into a man. He was tall and thin, with a long, flowing beard of silver that gleamed faintly in the dim light. His robe was a deep purple, rich and dignified, wrapping around him like a royal mantle. This was Albus Dumbledore, a man whose very presence radiated an aura of ancient wisdom and authority.

With practiced ease, Dumbledore reached into the folds of his cloak, his hand closing around a small, silver object that fit perfectly in his palm-the Put-Outer. His fingers curled around it as if it were an extension of his own hand, and with a subtle click, the nearest street lamp flickered and went out, its light extinguished with a soft, final pop. He continued down the street, each click of the Put-Outer plunging another lamp into darkness, until the entire street was swallowed by a thick, velvety blackness that seemed almost tangible.

Satisfied with his work, Dumbledore turned his gaze towards Number Four, where a cat sat perched on the wall, its posture regal, its eyes gleaming with a keen intelligence. A small, knowing smile curved Dumbledore's lips.

"I should have known you'd be here, Professor McGonagall," he said softly, his voice carrying a touch of warmth and familiarity.

The cat's form began to shift, its fur rippling as it leaped gracefully to the ground. In an instant, the cat transformed, limbs lengthening, fur receding, until a woman stood where the animal had been. Her expression was severe, her emerald cloak rustling gently in the night breeze.

Professor McGonagall's eyes were sharp, her gaze piercing as she stepped closer to Dumbledore.
"Are the rumors true, Albus?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and apprehension.

Dumbledore's smile faded, replaced by a grave expression. He nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so. The good, and the bad."

McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line as she asked, "And the boy?"
"Hagrid's bringing him," Dumbledore replied, his tone steady and certain.
McGonagall's brow furrowed in concern. "Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

Dumbledore's response was immediate, his voice firm with conviction. "I would trust Hagrid with my life, Professor."

Before they could say more, a low rumble began to grow in the distance, the sound deepening until the very air seemed to vibrate with its intensity. Both professors turned their eyes to the sky, where the clouds parted to reveal a massive motorcycle hurtling downwards. The ground trembled as it landed with a thunderous crash, smoke billowing around it in thick, swirling clouds. As the smoke began to clear, a giant of a man emerged from the motorcycle's shadow, his towering frame dwarfing everything around him. His broad, powerful arms cradled a bundle of blankets with surprising gentleness.

"Ev'ning, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall," Hagrid greeted them, his voice a deep, rumbling bass, yet full of warmth.
Dumbledore stepped forward, concern flickering in his eyes as he met Hagrid's gaze. "No problems, I take it, Hagrid?"

"No, sir. Little tyke fell ter sleep as we was flyin' over Bristol," Hagrid replied, his tone soft and tender as he glanced down at the bundle in his arms.

Taking the bundle with careful hands, Dumbledore turned towards the doorstep of Number Four.
McGonagall's voice broke the silence, filled with doubt.

"Albus, do you really think it's best to leave him here, with these people? I've been watching them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. They're..." She hesitated, as if searching for words strong enough to express her disdain.
Dumbledore's voice was firm, cutting through her hesitation. "The only family he has."