Chapter Text
The night of September 23, 2004, on Diagon Alley was completely ordinary.
At 11 p.m., an unbroken silence reigned over the streets. All the shops seemed to be asleep, their illuminated storefronts the only indication that, in the morning, they would wake up to welcome new customers.
At 11:32 p.m., a black cat darted through one of the narrow alleyways, letting out a spine-chilling cry. Slowly, a light drizzle began to cover the roofs of London’s buildings.
At 11:55 p.m., a proper storm broke loose. Water poured down in streams, and even the faintest glimmer of moonlight couldn’t pierce through the black clouds. The wind howled furiously, twisting the trees into a terrifying dance.
Precisely at midnight on September 24, 2004, the sky above Diagon Alley was split by a lightning bolt so bright it could be mistaken for sunlight, and so loud it might have awakened even the dead. (Those who did wake up resolved to return to their eternal slumber - after all, such a storm surely boded no good.)
At that very moment, just outside Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, two drenched and shivering teenagers appeared out of thin air. A girl and a boy, looking no more than 17 years old, glanced around before exchanging a meaningful look.
With all the sincerity reserved only for children who have just realised that they are surely going to be grounded for the rest of their lives, they said:
“Oh, we are so screwed.”