Summer, 1986, Surrey, England, Little Whinging, Privet Drive.
Under the scorching summer sun, the houses lining Privet Drive appeared somewhat dull. The lawn at number four was meticulously trimmed, indistinguishable from its surroundings. However, a wizard with keen senses might have detected a faint, cleverly concealed magical fluctuation. This subtle magic did not emanate from the boy, Harry Potter, confined to a cupboard under the stairs, his forehead bearing a lightning-bolt scar. Instead, it originated from number three next door—a property that seemed vacant but was in fact protected by potent confundus charms and muggle-repelling charms. This was a temporary observation post, a "safe house," chosen by Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald for the children.
This summer, Liranan Dumbledore, just six years old, was staying here with his older siblings, nine-year-old Moppa Grindelwald and Azaliz Grindelwald. Dumbledore needed to handle Hogwarts affairs and counter the Ministry of Magic's increasing scrutiny, while Grindelwald, under a disguised identity as Mr. Gellert Graves, the new Assistant Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, served as a convenient cover for supervising the children nearby and conducting his own clandestine activities. This summer was also a kind of "acclimatization" test for Liranan, exposing him to a more ordinary environment.
Liranan's world remained small. He spent most of his time in the magically expanded backyard of number three, which featured lush vegetation, a small terrace for stargazing, and a secure room filled with books. Moppa was calm and collected, acting as a watchful guardian; Azaliz was enthusiastic and lively, serving as Liranan's bridge to the outside world (within strict limits). They were sternly warned not to use magic in front of Muggles or reveal their identities.
The threads of fate were subtly interwoven. Across the garden fence, Liranan occasionally saw the skinny, black-haired boy with worn-out glasses from number four being chased and bullied by an unusually fat, blond boy. Liranan's blue-gold eyes held a sense of confusion. He could vaguely sense a deep sadness and loneliness in the black-haired boy, as well as a peculiar, suppressed warmth. The fat boy, Dudley Dursley, was far more straightforward in his emotions—greedy and domineering, but at times, he also revealed a flicker of insecurity regarding his parents' attention.
Once, while Azaliz was practicing levitating a leaf without a wand in the yard—a task set by Grindelwald—he accidentally sent the leaf flying over the fence. It landed precisely in front of Harry Potter, who was being forced to mow the lawn. Harry curiously picked up the leaf, which seemed to move on its own, and looked up to see three unusually distinguished children beyond the fence: a quiet girl with fiery red hair and peculiar eyes, a radiant blond boy, and a small boy with moon-white hair and different colored eyes, whom they seemed to be protecting. Azaliz smiled kindly across the fence and made a "shushing" gesture. Harry froze for a moment, then instinctively returned a shy smile. It was the first non-malicious signal he had received from a peer on Privet Drive.
After several such exchanged glances across the fence, a silent understanding formed between the children. When the Dursley family wasn't in the garden, Harry would sneak to the fence. Azaliz would have brief conversations with him, Moppa would vigilantly scan their surroundings, and Liranan would quietly watch Harry, occasionally furrowing his brow when he sensed strong emotional fluctuations from Harry (such as mentions of the "cupboard" or "parents").
Even Dudley, during one of his chases after Harry, stumbled upon the three children by accident. He was momentarily stunned by Moppa's calm, sharp heterochromatic eyes and the subtle aura Azaliz exuded (a result of Grindelwald's teachings). Coupled with Liranan's apparent fragility and peculiarity, Dudley, uncharacteristically, did not immediately provoke them. He merely muttered "freaks" and ran off. But a seed of curiosity had been planted; he would occasionally covertly observe the neighbors, wondering about the origins of these children who didn't seem to attend school and looked "so cool."
One day, in late summer, a change occurred. Moppa and Azaliz received an urgent, encrypted message from Grindelwald, requiring their immediate return to Nurmengard to perform certain ancient rituals related to their magical education, which had to be done in person. This had been planned, but the timing was moved up. Grindelwald himself, needing to maintain his disguise as "Assistant Graves" and attend an important Hogwarts staff meeting, could not disengage immediately, but he promised to join them as soon as possible.
After a brief discussion, Moppa and Azaliz had to leave Liranan alone in the heavily protected number three, instructing him strictly not to leave the house and leaving him with sufficient food and emergency contact information. They departed with great reluctance.
However, on the night they left, the weather took a sudden turn, and a cold autumn rain began to fall. Perhaps unsettled by his siblings' departure, or perhaps feeling unwell due to the change in weather, the frail Liranan fell ill. He developed a high fever, alternating between chills and heat, and curled up motionlessly on the bed. Even Hoss's anxious chirps and emanating silver glow could not fully rouse him. The protective charms could prevent outsiders from entering, but they also temporarily blocked the faint magical fluctuations from within from reaching the outside.
The next morning, the rain had stopped. Harry was once again driven out to do chores by Aunt Petunia. He noticed the unusual silence from next door; the silver-haired boy was not, as usual, visible at the window or in the backyard. A bad feeling settled over Harry. While Dudley was watching television inside, he secretly slipped to the fence of number three and peered over. Through the living room window, he vaguely saw a small figure curled up motionlessly on the sofa.
"Liranan?" Harry called softly, but received no response.
Harry's heart tightened. He knew how awful it felt to be sick and alone. He tried pushing the front and back doors, but they wouldn't budge (magical protection). In desperation, he noticed a small transom window in the downstairs kitchen that seemed to be slightly ajar. The window was very narrow, and only a skinny child like Harry could possibly squeeze through.
"You have to go check on him!" a gruff voice boomed from nearby. Harry jumped, startled to find Dudley. Although Dudley bullied Harry, he harbored a strange mix of fear and curiosity towards the "freakish" children next door. He had also seen the situation through the window.
"I… I can't get in…" Harry stammered nervously.
"That window!" Dudley pointed to the kitchen transom. "You're skinny as a monkey, you can get through! I'll… I'll go get my dad!" Despite his size and bossiness, Dudley was still a seven-year-old child. Faced with a potentially "serious" situation (like someone being very ill), his instinct was to seek help from his parents.
Harry didn't hesitate. He struggled onto the windowsill, his small body barely squeezing through the narrow transom window, and tumbled onto the kitchen floor. Ignoring the pain in his bruised knees, he hurried to the living room.
Liranan lay on the sofa, his small face flushed with fever, his breathing shallow, his silver hair damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead. Hoss circled anxiously by his pillow. Upon seeing Harry enter, Hoss let out a warning chirp, but seemingly sensing Harry's lack of malice, its glow subsided slightly.
Harry had never seen anyone so gravely ill (within his limited experience). He remembered how he felt when he was sick and ignored, and his heart ached. He ran to the kitchen, stood on tiptoe to fill a cup with water, found a clean cloth, soaked it, and ran back, clumsily placing it on Liranan's forehead. He sat on the floor beside the sofa, unsure what to do, watching over him, and whispering words of comfort that he himself didn't fully understand: "Hang in there… it'll be okay… someone's gone to get help…"
Meanwhile, Dudley ran home, panting, and breathlessly told Uncle Vernon that the "little silver-haired freak" next door was dying, and Harry had gone inside. Vernon Dursley's first reaction was disgust and a desire to avoid trouble, but urged on by Aunt Petunia's shrill insistence ("Vernon! What if he dies next door!") and Dudley's rare persistence, he reluctantly prepared to go out and have a look, calculating that the most he'd need to do was call an ambulance (he was, of course, unaware of the Magical World).
Just as Vernon was slowly reaching for the telephone receiver, a tall figure appeared silently at the door of number three like a phantom. Gellert Grindelwald (disguised as Mr. Graves, but his face devoid of its usual disguised composure, showing only cold anxiety and a hint of ferocity) simply waved his hand, and the potent protective charms parted like ripples on water. He pushed the door open and entered.
The scene in the living room made his pupils contract sharply. His beloved youngest son lay weakly on the sofa, and a skinny, black-haired boy with glasses was keeping watch beside him, holding a damp cloth. Grindelwald instantly understood what had happened—Moppa and Azaliz were absent, Liranan was ill, and this Muggle boy had discovered it and come to care for him.
A surge of immense anger (at his own oversight and the unexpected events) and fear washed over him, but seeing Harry's green eyes filled with worry and apprehension, Grindelwald forcefully suppressed all emotion. He hurried to the sofa, knelt on one knee, and gently placed a hand on Liranan's forehead, feeling the burning temperature. With his other hand, he had already drawn his wand (which to Harry might have looked like a thin stick) and prepared to cast healing magic.
"Who… who are you?" Harry asked timidly, startled by this tall, imposing blond man who had appeared so suddenly.
Grindelwald did not answer immediately. He focused on reciting complex incantations, and a soft light enveloped Liranan. A moment later, Liranan's breathing seemed to stabilize, and the flush on his face began to recede. Only then did Grindelwald turn his head, his heterochromatic eyes (likely appearing dark grey under his disguise) fixed on Harry, his gaze as sharp as a falcon's, but his tone surprisingly calm, even with an extremely faint, almost imperceptible gentleness. "I am his father. You are Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Harry nodded in surprise.
Just then, Vernon Dursley's plump figure appeared at the doorway. Seeing the scene inside, especially Grindelwald (Mr. Graves) with the "stick" in his hand and the residual healing light around Liranan, his face turned ashen, and he stammered, "Who… who are you? What have you done to that child?"
Grindelwald slowly stood up. His tall stature and the invisible pressure he exuded made Vernon instinctively take a step back. Grindelwald's gaze swept over Vernon, finally settling on Harry.
"Thank you for taking care of my son, Harry Potter," Grindelwald's voice was clear and calm, as if possessing a magical quality that silenced even the boisterous Vernon. "And you," he looked at the pale-faced Dudley at the door, "thank you for going to get help." His thanks sounded more like a statement, delivered with a hint of condescension, but it was indeed gratitude.
Without another glance at the Dursleys, he waved his wand lightly, and a soft traveling cloak materialized out of thin air. He carefully wrapped Liranan in it, including Hoss, who was perched on his shoulder, and cradled him securely.
"You are no longer needed here." With that, Grindelwald, holding Liranan, walked directly outside. The moment he stepped over the threshold, his figure blurred as if merging with the air, then disappeared, leaving behind the dumbfounded Dursley family and Harry Potter, his mind filled with immense questions.
This unexpected illness and rescue left a mystery at number Privet Drive, and planted a seed in Harry's heart—a seed of curiosity about the mysterious silver-haired boy next door, about his powerful and strange father, about a form of cold yet seemingly caring attention unlike anything from the Dursleys.
For Grindelwald, this incident was a harsh warning. Holding Liranan, who was still weak in his arms, feeling the small weight leaning dependently against his chest, a flicker of fear and determination crossed his heterochromatic eyes. Protection must be more foolproof. At the same time, that boy named Harry Potter… the Savior… perhaps, in the intricate game of the future, he too would be a factor to consider.
The late summer wind blew across Privet Drive. Everything seemed to have returned to normal, but certain subtle trajectories had already begun to shift.