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None of the Muggles noticed as fifteen witches and wizards suddenly appeared, under the cover of darkness, on the road that ran through Privet Drive.
A gentle breeze whipped through the neatly trimmed bushes that lined the street, the roaring from a large motorcycle blowing a few scattered leaves across the tarmac.
Hagrid clambered off the bike, striding over to number four and knocking on the door, the sound of his knuckles against wood echoing down the street.
"Hello, Harry!" he beamed as the door flew open, Ron tackling his best friend into a hug, before Hermione, "You're looking fit."
Moody grumbled as he loped into the house, "Yeah, he's absolutely gorgeous. What say we get undercover before someone murders him."
"Evening." Harry smiled as the others filed past him, "Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Prime Minister?"
"You are more important." the wizard remarked as the eldest Weasley, also the only one Harry had never met, came into the house.
"Hello, Harry." he stuck out his hand, "Bill Weasley."
"Oh, pleasure to meet you." he shook it, surprise lacing his features at the sheer number of people in the Dursley's front room.
Fred sniggered, "He wasn't always this handsome. Dead ugly."
"True enough," Bill gestured to the claw marks strewn across his face, "owe it all to a werewolf, name of Greyback. Hope to repay the favour one day."
Fleur pressed a kiss to his cheek, "You're still beautiful to me, William."
"Just remember, Fleur, Bill takes his steaks on the raw side now." Lupin quipped with a smile.
"My husband, the joker," Tonks chuckled, linking their arms, "by the way, wait till you hear the news. Remus and I..."
Moody cut her off, stalking back into the room, "All right. We'll have time for a cozy catch-up later. We've got to get the hell out of here, and soon." Lori and Cedric were the last ones in, quickly hugging Harry as they joined the others, "Potter, you're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."
"What's the Trace?" Harry asked.
"If you sneeze, the Ministry will know who wipes your nose. The point is, we have to use those means of transport the Trace can't detect: brooms, Thestrals and the like. We go in pairs. That way, if anyone's out there waiting for us, and I reckon there will be, they won't know which Harry Potter is the real one." he replied with a devilish smirk.
"The real one?"
Moody produced his hip flask from deep in one of his coat pockets, flicking it open with a smile, "I believe you're familiar with this particular brew."
