Prologue
Albus Dumbledore eyed the destroyed house with a frown, keeping his eyes cast downward, determined to ignore the Dark Mark glittering in the sky. Debris from a caved in roof littered the ground, along with the glassy remains of a blown window. It looked to be from baby Harry’s room, he noted with a grimace. A terrible sense of foreboding seemed to fill the cold fall air. Whatever he would find in there wouldn’t be good news. The lines of the Prophecy given by a true Seer assaulted his mind. The words coming from the mouth of Sybil Trelawney, in a voice that wasn’t hers…they had filled him with dread, but had given him a small glimmer of hope. Voldemort could be killed? Who and where was the hero they desperately needed? The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… But at the price of one’s life… Was someone going to die? Hopefully Voldemort. And then Severus Snape of all people had approached him, with some startling and disturbing news. He had handed over the Prophecy to the dark Lord on a silver platter….or at least most of it. He’d been kicked out before it had been completed. (Albus would be forever grateful to the owner of the Hogs Head.)
“Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…”
And he learned that Voldemort planned to go after the Potters… A pregnant Lily Potter, no less. Severus had begged him to protect them. Thus, a deal was struck: Dumbledore would send the Potters into hiding as a form of protection if Severus would join his staff as both the Head of Slytherin House and the Potions master, as well as become a spy for the Order. The last year had been very trying for both of them. But they’d gotten through it. Severus had even begun to repair his broken friendship with Lily, though he and James had stayed at odds with one another….until the couple had passed on, that is.
“And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the DarkLord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can livewhile the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....”
The moment he crossed the threshold, a powerful, familliar smell hit him, making Albus pause mid stride. Saltwater, he realized with a jolt. But surely that can’t mean- The pungent smell only grew stronger as he made his way through the home, which filled him with equal parts uneasiness and hope. Had someone survived? He gasped quietly, not expecting to see James laying haphazardly on the stairwell, a broken pair of glasses beside him. His dark hair was flat, like all the life had gone out of it. It was a bit haunting in this moment, Albus thought, to see it like that, instead of its’ usual tornado-like messiness, the way his hair used to stick up on all sides, filled with life the way he had been. He moved away quickly. There was no time for mourning. Not yet.
Three bedrooms lay in the hallway before him. The first turned out to be the master bedroom, the one that Lily and James had shared. He peered in, curious as to the contents of the room. The cleanliness of the bedroom made the house look almost like it had been untouched. His eyes landed on an out of place Potions vial in the middle of the floor. At first, he thought it was empty. But then he picked it up and realized it was full of a glittery clear liquid. A memory?! There must have been something Lily had wanted to show James? Or maybe the pair wanted to show him something that defied explanation… Or rewatch an old memory.
Mereassumptions…
Pocketing it, he left to see what else he could find. Across from there were two smaller bedrooms. Both doors were wide open, one hanging for dear life on the hinges, as if the intruder had become impatient. The other led to an empty room save for a queen bed and a white dresser. A guest bedroom, one of many in the spacious Potter home. On the floor near the broken door lay Lily, her long red hair spilling onto the tan carpet. Her green eyes were wide and alert, though now they were also lifeless green bulbs. It hurt Albus so, to see that the smartest witch of her generation had left the world. Far, far too soon. After a long, grievous moment, he finally looked beyond her, into the rest of the room, and widened his eyes as realization set in.
What?
On either side of the room sat two white cribs, complete with a matching white dresser/changing table combination between them. Names carved into wood hung on the wall above them in fancy blue calligraphy. Both cribs held a toddler, one with wild black curls, the other with wavy brown locks. Other than the difference in hair color, they looked exactly the same, right down to Lily’s sea green eyes. This feels wrong. The prophecy only said that there would be one hero… Wouldn’t Sirius Black have told him? Of course, being the “traitorous” Black that he was, Voldemort would be after his head, too. That’s why his own home is under the Fidelus. And that’s why making Black the Potter’s secret keeper had been smart, Albus thought with a rush of pride. His eyes landing on Lily again, that rush of pride quickly evaporated. But now that doesn’t make sense…had Sirius given them up? Was he a traitor after all? He glanced between the two boys, debating on how to proceed. Finally, without a word, he picked up the lighter haired child, then whipped out his wand, sending away the now empty crib, the adjoining first dresser, changing table, and bright blue blocks spellings his name. Then, he apparated away.
— — —
A knock at the door came just as Sally Jackson sat on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate, the first in what was turning out to be a chilly winter. She put the small cup down on the coffee table, eying her cat. She knew the little beast would get to it, but there was nowhere else out of her reach that the middle aged woman could put it. She went to the door, mystified when no face appeared behind the little hole. No one stood behind it when she opened it up, either. Deciding to look up and down the hallways, she cautiously took one small, tentative step forward, her foot landing on something soft. The edges of a blue blanket. Sally gasped softly.
Wrapped inside of the soft fabric lay a sleeping baby boy. On his chest sat a letter.
— — —
When Albus reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, quiet sobs alerted him to a new presence inside the home. Holding his lit wand before him, the old man slowly climbed the stairs. Then, he froze, staring in shock at his friend.
“Severus?!” The man was normally so…put together and aloof. But at the moment, the dark-clad Professor was displaying more emotion than Albus had ever seen from him. He was on the floor, practically hugging Lily Potter’s corpse and sobbing.
“So you do have a soul.” Dumbledore said, half-joking.
“This is no time for one of your jokes, Headmaster.” The Potions Master narrowed his eyes. “You promised you would protect her.”
“I promised to do my utmost best.” The old Wizard clarified. “I did not foresee Sirius Black turning traitor.”
“You should have.” Severus muttered. “He’s a Black, after all.”
“Hmm.”
A bout of crying behind Severus reminded Dumbledore of Harry’s presence in the room. The little boy was standing in his crib, tears cascading down his cheeks as he half screamed for his mummy. Severus watched as Albus walked to the child, lifting him into his arms. “Where are you taking the boy?”
“To the only family young Harry has left: Lily’s sister.”
“You are sending him off to live with muggles? And Lily’s sister, no less! They loathe magic! Growing up, she hated her own sister because of it! What are the chances the same will happen to the boy?!”
“Every witch, wizard, and child in our world will know his name, Severus. He’ll be famous without truly understanding why. It would be better for Harry to grow up away from all of that. As for it being Petunia, well, Lily created a kind of Blood-Protection magic on Harry, one that works best with blood relatives in the home. Voldemort will undoubtedly be after Harry when-not if, but when-he returns, and we must prepare for this eventuality.”
“You believe he was not permanently destroyed?” Severus stood up now, albeit a bit reluctantly, as he watched the older Wizard with a frown.
“It is my hope, of course, that he is never to rise again, but something tells me that this isn’t the end.”
To that, all the Potions Professor could do was purse his lips.
“I must be off, my dear boy, but I will see you at the beginning of the semester.” The child’s cries faded as the two popped away from the house.
— — —
Around 7 in the morning, all three of the Dursleys were up and about. Vernon was getting ready for work, as he usually did on a weekday. Petunia was happily making breakfast for her husband and preparing Dudley’s baby food.
“Morning, Pet!” A large whale of a man boomed as he entered the kitchen.
“Dada!” The toddler shouted delightedly. His father patted the young boy on the head, grinning at him, before taking a seat at the table.
“Morning, dearest!” The wife chirped in response, setting a full English breakfast before him. She kissed his cheek before taking Dudley’s food and sitting across from her son. It was the same every morning: the husband would put on the world’s most boring suit before going downstairs to eat whatever his wife had made before setting off for work. Meanwhile, the woman would feed Dudley, who would sometimes throw his food if he didn’t like it. On days like that, the parents would laugh, and Vernon would say, “Little tyke,” before he left. (Lucky for the boy’s mother, today he liked the strawberry oatmeal provided.) After that, she would bring in the milk bottles that the milkman always left on the porch. It was lucky that the toddler decided to eat his food quickly, otherwise her husband wouldn’t have been able to be there when the milk was brought in. Vernon was just picking up his briefcase for work when he was startled by the scream. She was at the front door, getting the milk as always. “What is it, Pet?”
“There was…this…at the front door.” She stepped aside to reveal…a sleeping boy wrapped tightly in a blue blanket, a letter on his chest. He watched as she picked up the letter, the boy, and the milk before shutting the door.
“Is that-“
“My sister’s…special…son, yes.” Petunia pursed her lips in distaste, laying the boy on the floor. Vernon eyed the letter in her hand.
“Why is he here? She should be watching over her own freaky kid!”
“I don’t know…but Vern, the letter has our names on it.” He sat down next to her.
“Well? Open the letter then, I suppose.” She tore the envelope, pulling out a long page of slanted writing. The nosy woman skipped right on down to the end of the page. Her face went white with shock.
“What is it, Pet?” He probed.
“Lily’s dead.”