As I noted in the summary, this is a twist on the abandoned fem!Harry genre, with the addition of elements from Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn series.
I am doing my best to give the characters logical reasons for what they do, even and especially when they do the wrong thing.

I am uploading the first two chapters at once, and hopefully I will have at least finished the third chapter, something I'm pretty confident about as I wrote the other two in a week. The fourth chapter will be where the main arc begins, and where the real action starts.

James/Lily's generation were born in 1956 to make room for Liz to be born in 1975.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: A Whisper in the Mist

October 30th, 1981

Near Ancient Doclea, north of modern day Podgorica, Montenegro

Mist filled the valley.

The Dark Lord Voldemort paused, forked tongue tasting the air. Even through the heavy fog that had descended this night, he could sense a difference to this place, perhaps a sign that he had found what he'd been searching these past few days for. A quick point me spell confirmed his suspicions; the entrance to Gaius Varius Leras' hidden study was in the crevice just ahead. It was cleverly concealed, with no visible indications of its presence and subtle wards, drawing on only the slightest amounts of ambient magic in their current dormant form. Only those with the most diligently honed magical senses would have noticed it against the background noise of the nearby leyline. It was little wonder it had lain undiscovered for well over one and a half millennia.

A brief thrill of excitement and superiority shot through him, as it always did when he discovered lost magic. To think that such things had laid forgotten for millennia, right under the noses of so many generations of wizards, waiting to be discovered by him, the greatest Dark Lord in history! As if fate had preserved magic's secrets for him alone... Fate... His mood soured quickly, thinking of the prophecy his servant, Severus, had relayed to him. A child, a snot-nosed, ignorant brat was supposed to defeat him? He, Voldemort, who had achieved immortality before he'd even reached adulthood, who had delved farther and deeper into the mysteries of Dark magic than anyone in history!?

"Ridiculous...", he harshly muttered, his magic brushing lightly over the hidden doorway, feeling out the structure of the defenses. He ran his hand across his pale scalp, a habit from his youth that he'd never been able to stop. He sometimes wished he'd been able to at least keep his hair, not to mention his nose, but such things were a trivial price for immortality. 'Blood wards tied to a three layer runic array, all powered by ambient magic... Innovative for its time, but now?' He sighed theatrically, slightly disappointed at the lack of a challenge, 'Time moves ever on.'

He slipped his magic between the runic layers and easily unraveled the wards. The rock wall revealed a multitude of cracks and rearranged itself into an archway, drawing a flicker of amusement from the dark wizard in remembrance of his first trip to Diagon Alley. His snake-like eyes, changed from his many experiments in the Dark Arts, could only just make out enough to confirm it was indeed a study in the gloom of the cavern.

A sharp flick of his wand summoned a small ball of light that hovered near the ceiling in front of him as he walked through the archway. A disordered mix of scrolls and books greeted him, but it was one in particular, lying open on the desk next to a small wooden box, which drew his attention immediately. The slight pulsing sensation which he had followed to the valley grew greatly in intensity as he walked toward the open journal, but he ignored it for the moment, quickly translating the text in front of him.

'... my fellow alchemists' efforts using the natural elements have thus far proved fruitless. I believe this is so not simply due to an incorrect process, but to incorrect theories altogether! The natural elements are corruptible and decay, and the Elixir of Life is inherently incompatible with such a notion. It is the rejection of mortality and the ravages of time! I believe that the universe thus develops according to the actions of two fundamental forces: Preservation and Ruin. As the natural elements are subject to Ruin, the Philosopher's Stone must therefore arise instead from pure Preservation. I have finally gathered the requisite materials for my ritual, and I shall begin my preparations for the solstice tomorrow. As the year reaches its apex, so shall I!

[June 23 350 AD]

A PEBBLE! Years of research, a fortune in securing materials, even willingly given Unicorn's blood! And all for a simple bead of metal! There must have been a flaw in my process, some missing ingredient that would have yielded something more than this, this little ball of condensed mist... I shall have to review my notes from the beginning. For now, I shall keep it as a reminder of the follies of haste.'

Voldemort scowled, fury rising inside him. 'Another dead-end. Just like every other lead...' He turned to leave when a small pulse brought his attention back to the box. 'Though perhaps not a complete waste,' he mused to himself, 'it may not be what I was looking for, but it certainly holds a power of some kind.' Pocketing the bead and a copy of the journal, he strode out of the archway and dispelled the light. With a casual flick he reset the wards and added a couple layers of his own on top, then apparated away.

Further insurance against mortality would have been prudent, but his trip had disproved the existence of anything more effective than his own Horcruxes, though he had found research which suggested that an attempt at further splitting his soul without first strengthening the existing connections might result in an unintentional Horcrux. He would have to look into ways to strengthen them later. For now, it was time to resolve the issue of the prophecy before it even began. How convenient that Wormtail had just been made the Potters' secret keeper. And Bella had undoubtedly gotten restless while he'd been gone.

October 31st 1981

Potter Family Cottage, Godric's Hollow

Dorea Potter nee Black smiled softly as she watched her six year old granddaughter play with her little brother. Little Edward, a little clone of her only son, giggled madly as he chased his sister Elizabeth, her nearly scarlet hair trailing behind her like a cape, around the living room on a toy broom. Lizzie shrieked in delight every time she was able to dance just out of his reach, no matter how cleverly Ed maneuvered. A squib, her granddaughter might be, but Dorea could see she would be something special, magic or not.

James and Lily had been disappointed, when Dumbledore confirmed their worries earlier that year. So far, due to the isolation the war had forced upon them no one outside the little circle of their closest friends and family knew of the children's existence, much less that Lizzie was a squib. In some ways it was a blessing, Dorea knew. Not only were they protected, but so long as their isolation lasted her granddaughter could grow up normally, unburdened by the prejudice and disdain Magical Britain held towards the non-magical.

She sighed quietly, hands combing through her graying hair. The stress of the war and the loss of her husband nine years earlier had taken their toll on the witch, aging her well beyond her years, etching worry lines and wrinkles across her face.

She glanced at the living room clock. James and Lily had been called away to a meeting of the Order, asking her to stay and watch the children for the short time they would be gone, a task she was only too happy to accept. It was getting late, far later than they had estimated; something serious must have happened to keep them so long.

"Alright Lizzie, Ed," she cheerfully called out, suppressing her unease, "It's time for bed!"

"Awww..." Elizabeth groaned, "but gran'ma I'm not tired yet... An' Ed's not either!" she argued as she picked her brother off his broom and held him to her chest.

Ed merely gave out a cheerful gurgle that could, under generous circumstances, be taken for agreement.

Elizabeth stuck out her bottom lip in a pout but handed Ed over to Dorea, and followed her grandmother upstairs to the nursery. She began to fidget and rub her hands worriedly as Dorea prepared Ed for the night. Once Ed was safely in his crib Elizabeth meekly spoke up.

"Gran'ma... Why aren't Mum and Dad home yet?" she murmured. Her parents had never been gone this long after they'd said they'd be back.

Dorea stilled, before smiling and whispering so as not to wake Ed, "They'll be back soon enough, don't you worry, darling. I'm sure they just-"

Her heart leapt into her throat as the front door banged open. "Stay here Elizabeth." She commanded sharply, opening the nursery door and peering down the stairwell. 'How could someone get past the wards without me even feeling the attempt!?' Cold, icy fear gripped her heart when she saw the snake-like features of Voldemort, his eyes sweeping the entryway. Her presence quickly drew his attention and a thin, evil grin cut across his face. Cold, rasping laughter filled the house as he walked slowly up the steps towards her.

Thoughts of protecting her grandchildren broke through the overwhelming fear that had gripped her, and she dashed into the nursery, throwing up a set of hasty wards on the door as she passed. She knew they wouldn't stop him for more than a handful of seconds, but if those few seconds could give her the time to save her children then it would be enough.

"Lizzie, into the wardrobe now!" she whispered frantically, eyes wide and darting about the room.

"What's goin-" Elizabeth began.

"Now! And don't come out until I say so!" Dorea urged, grabbing her granddaughter's shoulder and pushing her towards the wardrobe. Because Lizzie had no magical core, what Dorea was contemplating would never take and protect her. But Edward... She was desperate, but a memory of a book mentioning a certain piece of old magic rose unbidden in her mind. Her childhood was spent often sequestered in her family's library, but as she shied away from the questionably legal branches of magic her family specialized in but remained an extremely inquisitive child, she delved instead into... other magics.

As she set about laying the foundations of the blood protection onto Edward, she begged and prayed to the Fates and all her ancestors that this would work.

Elizabeth Lily Potter was an inquisitive, willful girl, not given to simply accepting orders or explanations without challenging them first. But tonight, the whispered urgency in her grandmother's voice, the tightly bound panic in her eyes silenced any thought but to obey. Huddled in the small wardrobe in the corner, she could just barely hear Dorea's hurried chanting from her brother's crib. She didn't understand what was going on, her grandmother had always been calm and composed, even when she distracted her mum and dad so the children could sneak some sweets from the kitchen, or play with James' favorite snitch. To see her grandmother in such a state terrified her.

A resounding boom echoed through the room as Dorea's wards gave way and the nursery door was shattered into splinters, drawing a whimper from Elizabeth which she instinctively smothered. An exchange of spellfire could be heard immediately after, and her grandmother cried out as a wand clattered against the floorboards. Cold, rasping laughter sent chills up her spine and she began shivering in terror.

"So, Potter and his Mudblood aren't here after all," hissed the stranger, "No matter, I'll enjoy seeing their faces when they find their son's corpse. That always brings out the most delicious of expressions," He finished with a dark chuckle. "Now stand aside, I do not wish to waste pure blood needlessly."

Dorea drew a shuddering breath. "No. You'll have to kill me first, you bastard!" She growled out in a surprisingly steady voice.

"Very well," the stranger answered coldly, "Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort scowled at the child, not even sparing a glance at the old woman slumped in an awkward heap against the wall. The brat had started wailing as soon as he entered the room. He'd always hated the sound of children crying, but the thought of his impending victory brought a smirk to his inhuman face. His magical senses reflexively felt out the magic of the infant in front of him. It was... weaker than he'd expected. It was certainly stronger than average, but no feasible amount of growth could hope to make it powerful enough to match his own. Given that this was supposed to be the child prophesied to defeat him, he found himself almost insulted.

'Perhaps I was wrong, and the Longbottom boy is the one after all,' he mused, 'No sense leaving loose ends, though.' He lifted his wand to point between the eyes of the boy, who had suddenly quieted, the glowing green tip drawing his attention.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lizzie tugged on her hair as she rocked back and forth, her knees drawn up to her chest. She had been trying to work up the courage to peek out of the wardrobe for several minutes. Ed had been crying ever since the man last spoke that unfamiliar incantation, yet no one had come to see what was wrong. Biting her lip, she slowly opened the door just a crack, enough to see her grandmother laying against the wall, apparently asleep, and a black cloak pooled in front of Ed's crib.

"Gran'ma?" She called out softly, hesitantly opening the door further and taking a step out of the wardrobe. "Gran'ma?" She repeated, the old floorboards creaking under her soft footsteps. Just as she noticed her grandmother's empty eyes, her foot got caught in the discarded cloak, sending her face first towards the floor, just barely able to bring her arms up to protect her face.

"Owwww..." she moaned, sitting up slowly, a glint of light drawing her attention as a little bead rolled to a stop in front of her. It was mesmerizing, her mind going blank except for the image of the little ball of perfection. Her arm reached out unbidden to pick it up, tingling warmth shooting up her arm as soon as she touched it. She swallowed it in the blink of an eye, her body moving under the control of some unknown force. Immediately, fire bloomed in her stomach, not a painful one but a good one, a great one, as if she was sitting in front of a grand fireplace, wrapped in layers of fuzzy blankets, feeling warmth for the first time.

Suddenly it stopped, leaving her filled with a feeling of emptiness and bitter cold, her mind returning to her in a flash.

"Lizzie! Ed!" her mother's fearful screams cut through her confusion. Frantic steps thudded up the stairway, and Lily dashed into the nursery, emerald eyes tearing up in relief when her children looked up at her. She scooped them both up into her arms, so caught up in checking for anything that might have been done to them that she never noticed what had happened to Dorea. James entered the room a second later, freezing in disbelief at the sight of his mother's crumpled form.

A strangled cry of grief tore its way out of him, anguish and denial warring inside him. "Mum!" He wept, dashing forward to cradle her limp body to his chest, her unseeing eyes staring emptily ahead.

There was no joy in being Fate's chosen.

The funeral was a small, hurried affair, without time for the respect and remembrances his mother deserved, James felt, but the chaos of the last few days meant that even though the war was technically over, they still could not afford such luxuries.

Wormtai- no, Pettigrew, fled on Halloween night, but not before attempting to pin the blame for his betrayal on Sirius, apparently believing that Voldemort had succeeded in killing him and Lily before falling against Edward. Thankfully, he had been there to clear Sirius' name; the DMLE was not very interested in due process at the moment. Their leader may have disappeared, but the Death Eaters were still mostly at large.

The Longbottoms, Frank and Alice, had been the Lestranges' most terrible demonstration of that reality. And now their son would grow up not only never knowing his parents, but with parents that would never know him.

He grimaced, looking at his mother's gravestone. She had been laid to rest right next to where his father had been buried nine years ago. The loss of his father at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts had been traumatic, but he had been sixteen, nearly an adult, and capable of maturing and coping in time. Young Neville childhood would barely be worthy of the name, he had no doubt, being raised by the Dowager Longbottom and the few surviving members of the Longbottom family.

"James, my boy," the calm, but urgent voice of the Order's leader, Albus Dumbledore, drew him out of his thoughts, "I hate to be so crass as to interrupt you at such a delicate time, but there are urgent matters we must discuss, about your son's destiny." He turned to look at his old mentor, the aged wizard's eyes matching his voice in intent, robbed of their joyous glint by the burdens of the war.

"The prophecy?" James muttered. He wasn't entirely sure what to think about the damn thing. Voldemort was gone, yes, and at the hand of his own son, but so too was his mother. A selfish part of him was almost willing to accept the Dark Lord's continued existence if it meant his mother would still be alive. "It's over right? Voldemort is gone and so will the Death Eaters be soon enough."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I wish it were so, my boy, I truly do. But I have no doubt that we have not seen the last of him. He was always obsessed with immortality, and he always succeeded in anything he set his mind to. Well," he corrected himself, glancing over towards Lily who was holding Edward tightly within her arms, "almost everything. Regardless, I have read mentions of Dark and terrible magics to secure various forms of immortality, magics Voldemort would not hesitate to use. No, I fear that the war is far from over; we have simply been granted a brief respite."

Bile rose in James throat at the thought that his mother had truly died for nothing. 'No,' he viciously corrected himself, clenched fists causing his nails to bite into his palms, 'however long it lasts, it means we have time to prepare. Next time, that foul creature will die!'

"There is something else as well. The attack on dear Frank and Alice shows that even without their leader the Death Eaters are not to be underestimated. There is nothing I can do that will protect you and Lily any more than you already are, and there will be no hiding Edward, not when he must begin training to fulfill the prophecy as soon as he is able and when the people are already calling him the Boy-Who-Lived.

As for Elizabeth," he continued sadly, "she will forever be defenseless against even the weakest of magicals, and our enemies will not hesitate to target her to get at the rest of you. I am deeply sorry to ask you to make this decision so soon, but it is one you would have been forced to make eventually. The truth is that there is no place for squibs in the Magical world."

James' resolve faltered. He'd known this moment would come eventually, and it was often all he could do to keep the guilt from showing on his face when his daughter asked when she would get to go to Hogwarts. He'd just never imagined it would come so soon.

"No, Professor, I understand. I'll talk to Lily tonight, we'll decide where to send her."

"I told you before, James, call me Albus. And I know it's a hard decision, but I only want what's best for her. I'm sure everything will turn out fine, in the end."

January, 1982

Lily's emerald eyes swept the numerous roadsigns as she drove the rented sedan through Little Whinging, grateful that her parents had taught her to drive when she turned 16. Given what she was going to ask her estranged sister to do, it wouldn't be prudent to simply apparate onto her front lawn. Petunia had made her opinions on the Magical world quite known when they last spoke several years earlier.

The endless rows of identical houses disturbed Lily. It was nothing like the dizzying variety of Magical Britain, which, she supposed, was precisely the way Petunia liked it. Finally, her eyes registered the sign for Privet Drive ahead, and she released a relieved breath, the drive nearly over. It had been several years since she last drove, and she was not very experienced to begin with. She spared a glance at the mirror, watching her daughter in the back seat. Elizabeth head was swiveling back and forth, eyes wide in awe as the world sped by. Guilt threatened to overwhelm Lily for a moment, but she knew this was all for the best.

Number Four, Privet Drive was no different from any of the houses on the street, with the same neatly trimmed hedges and nondescript front. An ordinary, blue car sat in the ordinary driveway next to the ordinary lawn, in front of the ordinary house, all of which suited the Dursley's ordinary family. Surely, Lily thought, this would be the best place for her ordinary daughter to grow up. Petunia had said some rather.. colorful things t when they'd last spoken, but certainly she wasn't so petty as to extend her grudge to Elizabeth.

A few flickers of doubt rose in her mind, but were quickly squashed. This was the best choice, and Petunia had always been very family oriented, after all.

She ushered Elizabeth out of the car and walked the few steps to the front door, Lizzie's hand firmly bunched in Lily's coat. She was oblivious of the numerous confused glances her daughter was sending her, completely absorbed in thoughts of what Petunia might say. She rang the doorbell, quick shuffling able to be heard even through the thick door.

The door swung open, revealing the well practiced, polite aura of respectability which had been hurriedly plastered on her sister's face.

"You!" Petunia snarled, her face melting into a prideful sneer. "What are you doing here? Not content slumming around with freaks, now you're ruining the day of decent, respectable people?"

Lily restrained her instinctive response, temper threatening to rise. Years of dealing with the disdain and insults of prejudiced Purebloods had given her a great deal of practice in weathering scorn. "Petunia, please, I'm not here to fight. This is my daughter, Elizabeth. She's... she's a squib. I mean she's not magical," she added, seeing her sister's blank face. "May we come in?"

Petunia stared unnervingly at her sister for a moment before huffing and making way for them to enter.

"Lizzie, please wait here for a little while, Mommy has to talk with your Aunt Petunia. I'll be right back, ok?" Petunia walked to the den at the back of the house and sank into a massive, plush lounge chair. Lily sat tentatively in the couch opposite her sister, unsure how to begin. Silence stretched into awkwardness before Petunia softly spoke up.

"Why'd you bring her here? Surely you didn't expect some heart warming reunion just because she's my niece, or because she's not like you?"

Lily's mouth opened before closing in a muffled sigh. "No, I didn't. I'm here to ask you to do something for me. James and I knew we'd have to do this someday, it's just that some things have happened, and we have no choice but to do it now, and-"

"You're abandoning her, aren't you?" Petunia interrupted snidely. "Don't try to pretty it up, Lily, after all you were perfectly happy to abandon your family before, once you got that letter."

"I'm not abandoning her," Lily snapped, "and I'm not prettying it up! The truth is she has no place in our world, you of all people should know that."

Petunia glared hatefully at Lily before continuing on, ignoring the last part. "And why should I take her anyways? That is what you came to ask me to do, yes? Why not just drop her off at an orphanage if you're so willing to abandon your flesh and blood; I have no reason to call you family anymore, why should I be stuck raising your brat?"

This wasn't going at all like Lily had hoped it might, she'd hoped that her sister would feel at least some familial duty to Elizabeth but it seemed the distance between them had grown even more than she'd realized. Thankfully she was prepared for such an eventuality.

"I didn't want to do this, Petunia, but if that's how you feel then I have no choice." She whipped out her wand and cast a quick series of spells over her sister and her house.

"What did you just do?" Petunia shrieked as she cowered deep into her seat, blood draining from her face.

"A small, but powerful piece of magic. By inviting us into your house you accepted Elizabeth's guardianship, at least enough to satisfy the magical agreement." She was bluffing, of course, it was only a mild compulsion charm and some monitoring wards, but muggles seemed to think magic was capable of anything. "One way or another you were going to take her in as soon as we stepped into your house, I just wanted to give you a chance to make the right choice."

"Out! Get out you damn freak!" Petunia screamed, leaping up and stomping furiously over to Lily.

Lily turned and strode quickly out the door, happy to be done with Petunia. She was about to apparate back to Godric's Hollow, eager to see her son and husband after the stressful confrontation, when she remembered the rental car. She groaned and massaged her temples in frustration. She was not looking forward to driving on the motorways again.

Vernon had been furious, of course; the thought that the spawn of one of those unnatural, heathen freaks might corrupt his son and taint his house was almost too much to bear. For now, the inexplicable fear that gripped his wife whenever he suggested they just drop the chit off at an orphanage somewhere far away from Surrey stopped him from following through, but it was a very near thing.

That he learned of their new 'ward' after the day he'd had was certainly no help. The supplier of the ball bearings for Grunnings' drills had sent them an entire shipment of defective products, and, of course, as director of the company everyone had come to him to complain. He rolled one of the traitorous steel balls between his fingers as he watched the Potter whelp stand awkwardly next to Dudley and his toys. The bearings were made of poor quality steel which cracked after only a few hours of use, and more importantly he'd been the one to sign the agreement with the supplier, a fact that Grunnings' shareholders had been quick to point out.

"Girl!" he bellowed, throwing the bearing at the brat, like she was some manner of vermin. "Get away from my son, now!"

He turned to the files he'd spread out the table, trying to work out the best way to use the contract against the supplier. He hoped that they would be able to force a settlement for greater than revenues lost to get him back into the shareholders' good graces.

His head whipped around at the sound of the girl choking. 'Don't tell me the stupid brat tried to swallow it!?'

He burst out of his chair and charged towards her, thundering footsteps shaking the floor, arm reaching towards her. She looked up at him with terrified eyes unsure whether to be more afraid of choking or of him, and suddenly swallowed the ball completely. In a blink, Vernon, Dudley and every metal object nearby were sent flying in a sphere around Elizabeth.

A shriek heralded Petunia's return in time to see her husband and son be sent flying. Vernon quickly struggled to his feet, face turning purple in fury, as Elizabeth scrambled into the corner. "That's it! I won't tolerate a freak in my own home! I don't care what that freeloading bitch said, I'm not keeping her freak kid!"

Petunia simply nodded, eyes locked on her niece with a look of utter revulsion.

They had been driving for hours, and Lizzie had long lost track of where they were heading. Vernon was still muttering to himself in the driver's seat, hunched over the wheel and glancing furiously back at her every few minutes. She rubbed her wrist absently, still hurting a bit from when he'd grabbed her and dragged her to the car, a hint of bruising already evident.

Suddenly the car jerked to a stop. She looked up to see him staring at her through the mirror with a hateful expression.

"Out," he growled. She opened the door and tentatively stepped out. The tires squealed and the car leapt away as soon as she closed the door. She froze for a few minutes in shock. For the second time in a day she had been abandoned, tossed aside like trash. She collapsed onto the curb, weeping uncontrollably and feeling utterly alone.

Eventually she swallowed her sorrow long enough to take a look around her. Night had fallen over the unfamiliar city and she knew enough to understand she needed to find a place to stay. Looking behind her, she realized she had at least been dropped off in front of an orphanage, though it looked rather run down. She shivered, wishing again for the glowing warmth she had felt when she had seen those strange blue lines and Pushed everything away at the Dursley's house.

She knocked on the orphanage door several times before it was yanked open to reveal the scowling visage of an old woman who took one look at the weeping girl and muttered, "Oh bloody hell, not another one." She sighed and took a long look at Elizabeth, 'Well, girl, best you come along then.'

Elizabeth had never been more unsure of anything in her young life, but she didn't really have a choice, after all.

Mist filled the city.

A few notes on alterations I have made to the Mistborn magic systems:

-It is possible to be both a Mistborn and full Feruchemist at the same time.
-Feruchemical storage density in metals has been significantly increased.-Several metals/alloys have been swapped out for others i.e. Cadmium for Titanium.
-Allomantic effects of burning copper/bronze extend in some manner to Wizarding Magic, otherwise they would be entirely useless.
-Enhancement metals will also affect magicals in some manner, though not exactly like copper/bronze.

If any of this confuses you, please google Allomancy and/or Feruchemy, but I am striving to include all the necessary information in the text itself