A/N: In the process of editing this monstrosity. It was my first attempt ever at creative writing, and boy did it show. Slowly, but surely, I'll get it to a readable state, although you can see where I get start to improve around chapter 30 :D
It was a crisp day in Surrey, the kind of clear, sunny days that were a rarity in the London suburb during the typically rainy spring. A tall, somewhat weedy young man with curly brown hair and a nose just a bit too big for his face aimlessly strolled down the sidewalk lane. Samuel Chambers had left his shared flat early this morning, and wandered towards his research lab at University College London in no hurry.
There was almost no breeze, making the air less chilly than one would expect on a March morning. He turned a corner, and nearly stepped into a man with long hair, tied in a ponytail with a silk ribbon.
"Oh, pardon me." Samuel's comment elicited no response, not even a glance from the man, so he continued on his way, walking alongside the perimeter of the local primary school, pondering how unusual it was to see a man in a black gown in Surrey. A flurry of shouts and sudden activity drew his attention.
"Now you'll get it y'little shite!" Samuel cocked his head in surprise, as a chubby, heavy-set boy, perhaps 10 years of age, began to kick a much smaller boy wearing glasses. Two other boys, one tall and the other short and squat, stood in an intimidating fashion, blocking the small boy's escape.
Samuel sighed, recalling his own memories of schoolyard bullies and cruel teasing, and took a deep breath to announce his presence when an earsplitting CRACK! sounded, and the small boy was gone! Everyone present stilled, unable to explain what it was that had just occurred. Samuel's jaw dropped a moment later, though, as a surprised exclamation came from above.
A quick glance up showed the small boy, teetering on the edge of the roof, arms windmilling as he fought and ultimately failed to keep his balance, crashing 25 feet to the concrete below where lay unmoving. Samuel, and the three boys remained too stunned by the sequence of events to even react. 'What the hell was that?' he asked himself. Thankfully, to Samuel's mind, the oddly garbed man in a black gown brushed past him as he hurried to reach the boy.
Samuel stared as the man approached, wondering 'Where did he get that mask?', noticing what appeared to be a conductor's baton appearing in his hand. At about 6 paces from the injured boy, the baton snapped out along with an exclamation of some unusual words, and a green flash lit the street. Then the man then vanished with another crack! that left echoes around the schoolyard.
"Dud." The squat bully was now nudging the overweight boy that had been attacking the motionless boy, who had not moved an inch since the flash of light. "Dud, what's happening, mate?" There was no response, as the large boy stood as still as the one he had been beating moments ago.
The taller bully had by now run off, presumably to find a teacher, but Samuel and the other two lingered for perhaps two or three minutes, brains trying to process the reality they had just witnessed. Slightly quieter 'pops!' began to sound as a half-dozen people in crimson gowns suddenly appeared, out of thin air and set upon the boys with a sense of crisis.
The most obvious observation for Samuel was that every one of them had those sticks, the baton-like sticks that the man in black had used against the boy, prominently held in their hands. He ducked back around the corner he had passed what felt like hours ago, and watched hesitantly as the red-robed individuals waved their sticks over the two boys and their seemingly comatose victim.
"Sweet Merlin! He got hit with another Killing Curse!" remarked one of the two that were standing over the bullies. "There's another boy that's left to fetch a teacher, Shacklebolt, take one of the Obliviators and sort them out, will you?"
A tall black man with a clean-shaved head and a gold earring nodded, and motioned to one of his crimson-clad fellows to follow as he walked towards the school's entrance.
Another series of 'pops!' sounded, and this time an ancient-looking bearded man in a blue dressing gown adorned with butterflies of all things appeared, alongside a severe-looking woman in a green gown, her hair tightly coiled in a bun. The old man approached the red - 'Robes, they're wearing robes!' - robed woman who seemed in charge.
"Amelia, what's happened? Is Harry all right?"
"Dumbledore. I should have expected you'd find out about this." The old man, Dumbledore, gave no hint of a reaction to her words. "The fat lump here and his friends were thrashing Mr. Potter when he apparently apparated to the roof using accidental magic." She motioned to the ledge from which the small boy had toppled.
"His aim was a bit off, though, and he fell off almost as soon as he got up there. Then, according to what these two saw, a man in black robes and a white mask approached, cast the Killing Curse at Mr. Potter, and apparated away. You know what this means, Dumbledore."
The old man had a stricken look on his face, and nodded tightly. "They must have been watching him for days. I'd hoped that with their master gone, the Death Eaters would have stayed underground."
"Albus... Potter is alive. What the hell is he?"
Dumbledore looked around at the various red-robes standing in earshot, all of whom hushed in anticipation of his answer while trying to act as though they weren't listening. "Amelia, I think it's best that Mr. Potter receive treatment at Hogwarts. I'm invoking this occurrence as a state secret, per my authority as Chief Warlock. I expect you to have oaths from your Aurors before they leave, and file the paperwork as an act of muggle-baiting with no listed victims. Are we understood?"
One brow raised, and an expression that promised 'this isn't over', Amelia gave a curt nod. "Understood, Chief Warlock." She looked past him, to her... Aurors, Samuel assumed. "Whitehorn, Sunset, the Headmaster will be taking custody of Mr. Potter. Stand down."
The two men that had been crouched over the injured boy stood up and took several steps back, while Dumbledore and the woman he'd arrived with both placed a handkerchief on the boy and vanished as quickly as they'd arrived.
Just then, the black man, 'Shacklebolt, she'd called him,' thought Samuel, returned with a pop! along with the man he'd left with. "We've erased the staff's memories and altered the third boy's. Have you taken care of the memories on these two?"
A wave of her stick, an exclamation of 'Obliviate!', and Amelia pronounced the job done. "Let's get back to the Ministry. No one is to leave the ready room until I've had a secrecy oath from you. Move out."
A series of pops!, and the robed individuals were gone. Samuel Chambers, back against the brick wall he'd peered around, slid to the sidewalk. 'What the hell did I just witness?'