The medieval towns used to burn people for having red hair. It was said that those with red hair were unnatural. Some even claimed that it was the fires of Hell touching a soul. That wasn't true, of course, but there was some truth to the idea that the core of a person could manifest in physical ways.
Or perhaps it's that the physical manifestations lead to how a person acts, to what a person becomes.
Lily Potter nee Evans had red hair. She'd been a prodigy before Hogwarts. Her family had been so proud of her. Literate at three, skilled in maths at five, it was clear she had an excellent memory. Her family, however, was from a poor, rural area and she hadn't been selected to one of the urban grammar schools, which were, at the time, based on the idea that intelligence was mostly hereditary. That hadn't stopped her, however, and she simply studied hard at the local library for the entrance exams she'd read about.
It came as quite the shock when her Hogwarts letter came.
It was once said, in folklore, that green eyes were a sign that a child had been replaced by the Fae. Again, not true, but when enough people conform to the expectations of a culture, it becomes difficult to dissuade them that a stereotype is mistaken.
Those entrance exams were not entrance exams to secondary school. The books at her local library hadn't specified because nobody in rural England would bother studying for secondary school. Everybody knew that and so nobody thought to put a sign or note up.
Young Lily Evans had been studying for university entrance exams at the age of eleven and hadn't known it. Because nobody thought to put a note in the library.
Later, when her family was hiding from the most recent Dark Lord, she was studying a combination of modern physics and magical rituals. Rituals, as everybody knew, were banned for being dark. But everybody knew that so there wasn't a note anywhere.
The last thing Lily Potter nee Evans said before the Dark Lord cast his killing curse was, "Ego sum Draconis." The final step in an ancient ritual performed by the mages of Roman Legions during the conquest of Britannia thousands of years prior. The Dark Lord's killing curse became the blow that completed the Celtic blood protection ritual on her infant son.
Neither of the ancient magics had been performed in a very long time. The two coming to completion at the exact same moment was something that was utterly unique. The effects were therefore unpredictable.
Even Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the twentieth century (some might argue the greatest in the last thousand years), could not have predicted what would come. But that would have required he know about them. He merely knew of the dark magic lingering on the infant Harry James Potter's scar.
000
Vernon Dursley had had a questionable year. His career was just taking off, his house was beautiful, his wife was happy, his son was healthy, and his sister-in-law and her husband had mysteriously died. Unfortunately, he was now responsible for raising the demon-spawn that was his sister-in-law's child. He was getting more responsibilities at work, but he was also getting more grief over his various dealings.
Both Dudley and Harry were keeping him and his wife up nights and he was at his wits' end. His Petunia hated Harry even more than she'd hated her sister, but she changed his diaper just like his Dudley's.
Vernon, however, did not like the way his dinner wasn't ready when he got home. He didn't like the way the house was messy all the time. He didn't like the way his Petunia wasn't "in the mood." Finally, he didn't like the way his Petunia was talking to him.
He was the man of the house and he deserved respect. If she didn't respect him, he'd just have to teach her a lesson.
The babies were in their playpen in the den when he brought it up with his Petunia in the kitchen. She'd gotten smart with him so he gave her the back of his hand. On any other day, the look on his Petunia would've horrified him. On any other day, he wouldn't have thought to hit his wife.
Petunia let out a wracked sob and Vernon saw something change in his Petunia. Her eyes, which had always been a respectable brown, turned green. Her hair, which had always been a dark brown, caught the light and looked like spun fire.
In short, she looked like her demon of a sister. The woman rounded on Vernon and her arm reached into his chest. His chest went cold. The last thing Vernon Dursley heard was his demon sister-in-law's voice.
"I am the Dragon. No one harms my brood."
000
Petunia Dursley nee Evans didn't know what happened. One moment her husband had smacked her, something she never thought he'd ever do, ever. The next his body was lying on the ground. Even though her lip was split, a dribble of blood running down to her chin, her husband was on the ground.
She knelt down and began shaking him. He wouldn't respond. She began yelling for him. He wouldn't respond. She didn't know what to do because her husband, her Vernon, wasn't there to tell her. She eventually called 999 and the ambulance came. She was busy keeping the boys fed and quiet. She didn't have anyone to call to take care of them while they took her husband away.
She had to call one of the neighbors to look after them. The only one available was the crazy cat-lady, Missus Figg.
The next few days went by in a blur. There were police officers and solicitors and so much paperwork. It turned out that Vernon had taken out a life insurance policy when Dudley was born. He hadn't even told her about it. She now owned the house at Number Four Privet Drive outright. And a half million pounds on top of it.
Petunia may not have been a genius like her baby sister, but she was no fool. She knew she could make a half million pounds last quite a while, but it wouldn't last forever. Six months after Vernon's death, she moved into a flat just big enough for her and her two children. She had renters in the house paying enough that she didn't have to draw on the half million pounds and could invest it so she wouldn't have to worry about money ever again. She wouldn't be as rich as she'd like, but she knew enough about luck not to get greedy.
000
Harry James Potter grew up under the careful eye of his aunt. Her husband had died when Harry was barely two, so he didn't remember the man at all. He knew, however, that he would have to study hard if he wanted to make his way in the world. His aunt was very clear on that. She would look after him until he came of age and then he'd be on his own. It was the same for his cousin, Dudley.
His aunt was crystal clear when it came to the world: it is a hard, uncaring place and you must use every resource you can to wrest whatever you can from it. Those lessons made Harry and his cousin work and study very hard in school.
His cousin had a place in a prestigious secondary school because of his father. Harry had to work hard to try to get a place in one so that he could then go on to a prestigious university and have a career that paid well enough to support himself and whatever family he decided to have.
His aunt always stressed the importance of wealth, but Harry secretly had doubts about the importance of money. The owl that delivered a letter to the boy on his eleventh birthday came as quite a shock.
