August, 1971
In a village in England that the world had long since happily forgot lived one of the most important men in all of Britain, who few under the crown could name. Peter Cromwell, primary advisor to the Minister of Magic, had moved his daughters to his quiet village and out of London as soon as his wife died under suspicious circumstances. To protect his daughters, Peter Cromwell sought out the most secluded village he could find in which to raise them.
Olivia and Anne-Claire never really knew London as home, so there was not much to miss. As far as they knew, the Muggle world did not exist. When Olivia was eleven and Anne-Claire was nine, Peter took the girls to work with him one day, with safety assured by the Ministry of Magic, so that they might see the world they must one day enter.
Anne-Claire grasped her father's pant leg with wide, wonder-filled eyes. Olivia fidgeted slightly with her freshly-pressed dress, but otherwise seemed calm. Her green eyes scanned the lobby of the Ministry, paying less attention to the impressive statues her sister ogled at and more to the people passing all around. Her favorite people to watch were the rougher, more colorful people who greeted her father by last name.
One particularly rough looking man who appeared to have been half-eaten by something nodded to Mr. Crowell and then almost smiled as he glanced at Olivia. She stared unblinkingly back until he patted her on the head with surprising tenderness and left them with another nod at Mr. Cromwell.
The day was long and by the end, Anne-Claire was practically already asleep. Olivia was being doted on by the Minister's secretary, and wishing she could go home. About the time when Peter Cromwell would have normally left, the rough-looking man returned and Peter Cromwell hurried him into his office. They warded the space to be sure the girls would not overhear.
"Well?" Peter drummed his fingers impatiently. "Did you check?"
"Aye, Peter, I did. I had to sign my life away to John, like we expected, but I got to hear the prophecy."
Peter closed his eyes solemnly.
"And?"
"It's not either of those girls, Peter, but watch over Olivia."
Eyes flying open, Peter gripped the desk. "If it's not her…"
"She'll have a daughter, I expect. The little one wouldn't be a reasonable match."
"So they'll be trying to kill Olivia anyway?"
The rough-looking man nodded. "Aye, but when and how, I cannot say. The prophecy's not about her, after all."
Peter began to pace furiously about his office. "Should I educate her myself?"
"Oh, no, I don't think that will be necessary, Peter. There's not a place in the world safer than Hogwarts, as long as Albus Dumbledore's around. You needn't worry about her schooling."
They nodded solemnly at each other for a moment and then Peter clasped the man's shoulder.
"I want to thank you, Grizzly. You've been a good friend so long, through everything. If there's ever anything I can do for you, for Eva, just say the word."
"Aye, I'm sure I will, should that day ever come."
/-/
Later that night, Grizzly Morecomb and his daughter Eva, about eleven years old, sat at a dingy table in a dank kitchen, finishing their dinner in silence. The girl was almost as pretty as Olivia, but with deep blue eyes instead of green. Grizzly blew out the candle hovering over the table and ushered Eva to bed. Once she was sufficiently tucked in, Grizzly returned to the kitchen and gazed out the window at the rainy alleyway.
"Oh, Eva, would that it were you. What an honor, to be remembered forever in history, no matter what end be met."
After watching the stars for a few moments, he turned to a cupboard that seemed nearly empty, except for a small box. Taking this box, Grizzly sat down at the table again, pulling out picture after damaged picture. In each one, Peter Cromwell, Grizzly, and two smiling women waved up at him. Some of them even included two very young girls, and two at the bottom had the six of them in a park in London, plus a small baby girl in the arms of Peter Cromwell.
The rough-looking man brushed tears from his eyes and placed the pictures carefully back in the box, and the box tenderly back in the cupboard. With a quick glance at Eva's room, Grizzly sighed and climbed the stairs to bed, with visions of the smiling, waving faces in his mind as he dreamt.
/-/
Peter Cromwell watched the fire die down in the parlor of his manor as the house elf, Drizza, folded the sheets she had washed while the family was having dinner. Above the mantle of the fireplace was a picture of the Cromwell family, nearly seven years ago. Aindora Cromwell smiled down at him, sadly, as she always did, and a much younger Olivia fiddled with her mother's hand. Peter in the picture, was holding a small, sleeping baby, which was the practically new-born Anne-Claire.
He stood and picked up his glass, stepping closer to the picture for a better look. There was a rustling sound behind him and he turned to find Olivia sitting down on the couch where he just was. He smiled sadly.
"Livia, it's past time for sleeping."
She nodded solemnly. "Yes, father. I know. I couldn't sleep."
He sat down next to her and massaged her cheek gently with his thumb.
"What's the matter, Livia?"
Shaking him off, she looked up at the picture. "I've seen him before, haven't I?"
Peter frowned.
"Who?"
"The rough-looking man we saw today at your office. I don't know why, but I'm sure I've seen him before somewhere. Do we know him?"
With a sigh, Peter looked up at the picture again. "We used to, dear. But that was a long time ago, and things have changed. People change. I'm not sure if he would recognize himself if the man I once knew could see what he has become."
The girl stared down at her shoes, wondering what that meant, if this rough-looking man had become a bad man, and if so, why her father would be talking to him, but her heart would not let her ask.
"Well, Livia, I think you'd best be getting back to bed. Rush off, now."
She complied, scurrying down the hall to her room. Peter took another drink and stared at the picture, as if in a trance.
"Master, if I may?"
The small voice broke him out of his reverie, and Peter looked down to find the sweet face of Drizza at his elbow.
"Yes, Drizza?"
"Well, Master, at some point, the past needs to be let go. If you're still seeing Master Morecomb after all that happened and all that will happen…"
His face grew dark. "Drizza, my dear, you are an honored member of this family, and I value you as a part of this family, but there are some lines that should not be crossed. Mr. Morecomb has been a good friend to us for many years, and we should not be the ones to judge and condemn him in these hard times."
Drizza nodded and went back to folding her sheets, though cautiously watching Peter as he trudged up the stairs to his room.
Peter lit up the pipe his wife had always hated and changed into his pajamas. Sitting on the end of the bed, he looked out of his window over the village, puffing smoke into the room. A portrait of his father and mother hung on the wall next to the window, and his mother began to cough and sputter as the smoke reached her.
Mr. Cromwell glowered down at his son. "Put that infernal thing away, boy. You know perfectly well your mother can't stand it." Peter smiled and put out the pipe. "That's a good boy."
Mrs. Cromwell wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. "Well, darling, what's wrong? I know you only smoke when you're upset."
Peter shook his head. "You know what's wrong."
Mrs. Cromwell gasped. "It's one of them?"
"No, no, but they'll be trying to kill Olivia. It's going to be a child of hers. At least, that's what Grizzly has figured out."
"Oh, darling, that's awful. But she's just a child! Who would hurt a child?"
He slammed his fist against the wall. "The people who want to stop the prophecy before it has a chance to start." He glanced up at his mother. "The same people who killed Aindora and Eoladra."
Mr. Cromwell cleared his throat loudly. "Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter. If they kill her, there's nothing you could have done, and if they don't, well, then you've done a good enough job. But I doubt they'll kill her. I'm a firm believer in the power of these prophecies. She'll be going to school soon?"
Peter nodded. "The letter should be here any day now. She'll be leaving in September."
"Then let her go, boy. She's growing up faster than you can get a grip on, I know, and she looks just like her mother, but she's not going to be three years old for the rest of her life. Let her learn how to fight back when they come for her."
"Oh, darling, how can you talk like that?" The horrified look on Mrs. Cromwell's face instantly softened when she turned back to her son. "Don't worry, dear, Olivia's going to be just fine! Oh, do write to us when she gets the letter! We'd love to come and visit our granddaughter before she goes out into the world!"
Sleepily, Peter nodded and crawled into his bed. "You'll be the first to know, Mother. Good night."
With that, his parents sat down in their portrait at a little tea table and the room was quiet with sleep until morning.
/-/
The next day, at breakfast, Olivia was poking her porridge and Anne-Claire was practically asleep in her seat, resting her head on her wrist. Just as soon as Drizza set the sausages on the table, a large tawny owl swooped in and dropped a thick and heavy envelope right in front of Olivia's porridge.
The envelope was yellowed with age and the emerald green ink almost exactly matched the shade of Olivia's eyes. When she saw it was addressed to her, she looked up to her father, who nodded encouragingly. The seal was purple wax, with a badger, raven, lion, and snake surrounding a large 'H'. She carefully opened to find three sheets of parchment:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Cromwell,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours Sincerely,
Horace Slughorn
Horace Slughorn,
Deputy Headmaster
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Practice of Magic (Grade 1) by Margaret Trimble
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
A Guide to Essential Wizardry by Stergis Renshaw
A Catalogue of Basic Transfiguration by Quentin Aldermaston
The Everyday Application of Herbology by Silva Ridgebit
A synopsis of Basic Potions by Humphrey Rickett
The Codex of Magical Wildlife by Olaf Peltier
Defending Against the Dark Arts by Merton Warburton
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.
Olivia nodded up to her father. "So when do we take care of this?"
Peter smiled and nodded. "I'll send off the owl today. We'll shop for your things in a few days, when I have a day off work. I suppose you ought to write a letter to your grandparents letting them know your letter got here. They'll want to congratulate you."
Anne-Claire and Olivia excused themselves from breakfast to write a letter to their grandparents together. Peter sat down at the table and drafted a professional and succinct reply to Hogwarts in Olivia's name accepting her place in the school.
The daily routine went on as normal, until the late afternoon, when Mr. and Mrs. Cromwell arrived to dote on their grandchildren. They brought sweets and new clothes, and they brought Peter the latest social news from London. After they had exhausted all their giving potential, the girls settled everyone around the fire and Drizza brought butterbeer for the family.
"So, dear, when are you taking them into London?" Mrs. Cromwell eyed her son.
Peter smiled, knowing his mother's tricks. "Mother, you know I'd never tell you. You're not coming along. This is a chance for me to spend time with the girls before Olivia leaves. You may come over and visit again if you'd like, but you're not coming shopping with us. There's only so much she can take with her to school, at any rate."
The two Messer's Cromwell laughed heartily, while Mrs. Cromwell frowned at them. "I'll have you know I was only thinking we might take care of Anne-Claire so that you and Olivia could have some time alone."
He sighed and waved his hand at her. "Mother, I'll be taking her along. If she decides she doesn't want to go, Drizza will look after her. There's no need to be leaving her in London without Ministry…"
His voice trailed off and he looked at the girls. They stared back at him questioningly.
Mrs. Cromwell nodded sharply. "Yes, I see what you mean. Well, I suppose we'll just have to come and visit before she goes, then. I believe we can manage that!"
Peter nodded slowly, grateful that his mother changed the topic, in a manner of speaking, so quickly. The girls did not know about the Ministry protection. He did not know how to tell his children that someone was trying to kill them, or even more, why.
After a few hours of chatter, they said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Cromwell. Not long after they departed, Peter put the girls to bed, and sat by the fireplace, staring at the picture until he fell asleep on the sofa. Drizza kindly draped a blanket over him and watched him sleep for a moment.
"Oh, Master. This is going to be hard. You've never been one to let go." She turned to gaze up at the smiling and waving picture. "Mistress, I know you would have loved to be here for this. This world isn't very fair." Peter stirred slightly, but did not wake. "She looks just like you, dear, just like you did when you were a child."
With that, Drizza put out the fireplace and headed off to her quarters for rest. Tomorrow Peter was taking Olivia to London, and she would have a lot of work to do, preparing them for their journey.
/-/
The next morning, Drizza rushed around in true professional manner, preparing everything for the journey. The most difficult part was keeping Anne-Claire out of the way. The little girl kept running around in everyone's way, a little confused, thinking that Olivia was leaving for ever, and not just for the day.
After Anne-Claire understood that she would be seeing her sister again, Olivia and her father said their goodbyes and took the Floo Network to Diagon Alley. Olivia brushed herself off and took her father's hand. They strolled around the shops, gathering the items on her list. The street was bustling with other students gathering their supplies, as well as a variety of interesting people simply taking care of their shopping lists.
Olivia caught a glimpse of the rough-looking man as her father was talking with a warlock about her scales. She watched him, and the girl who was with him, gripping tightly to his hand, just as Olivia had been doing to her father's hand earlier. This must be his daughter.
She was about to move closer to get a better look when Peter turned and saw them, taking Olivia's hand and strolling in their direction. The rough-looking man looked up as they approached, and his daughter eyed them suspiciously.
"Mr. Cromwell. Ah, and little Olivia. It's very good to see you both." He almost genuinely smiled.
Peter Cromwell nodded. "Mr. Morecomb. This must be your Eva." The rough-looking man nodded. Eva hid shyly behind her father's arm.
Olivia studied the girl named Eva. They were about the same age. Eva had long, luxurious black hair, very similar to Olivia's. Eva's eyes were a deep blue, like the sea. She had bold features, also like Olivia. Eva looked more like she could be Olivia's sister than Anne-Claire did. Peter noticed the wonderment in Olivia's eyes and he politely parted with the Morecombs.
"Father?" Olivia kept her eyes strictly ahead, wondering what had just happened.
"Yes, dear."
"Why did she look so much like me?"
"Who, dear?"
"Eva Morecomb. She looked like she might have been my sister."
Peter shook his head uneasily. "Don't be silly, darling. She looked nothing like you."
Eva Morecomb was not spoken of for the rest of the day, but Olivia could not help but wonder why her father had lied to her. He must have seen the obvious resemblance.
As the day grew older and the Cromwells ducked into a bookshop to pick up the last of Olivia's list, a friendly, older couple with a boy about Olivia's age waved to Peter, ushering him over.
"Peter! Peter Cromwell! Come here, you rascal, how've you been?"
Peter walked Olivia over. "Olivia, this is Mr. and Mrs. Potter. And this is their son, James. He'll be starting school with you this year." He looked up to Mr. Potter. "And this is my oldest, Olivia."
Mrs. Potter smiled warmly. "Of course, she looks just like her mother!"
Mr. Potter nodded in approval, and then the adults moved away to discuss whatever it is adults discuss when their children are not present. James and Olivia looked each other up and down, and then shook hands to signify their approval of each other.
"So your father is the famous Peter Cromwell." James looked impressed, and by the awkwardness of the expression, Olivia decided he must not be easily impressed.
She nodded. "Yes, he is. Is he really that famous?"
James laughed. "Well, of course! He's almost as well known as the Minister himself!"
"I see."
"So you'll be going to Hogwarts. Do you know what house you'll want?"
Olivia shrugged. "My mother was in Ravenclaw and my father was in Gryffindor. I don't really know."
James smiled, which always made him look like he was up to something, since he usually was. "My parents were in Gryffindor. That's where I'll be, I guarantee it."
After a brief explanation from James about the inner workings of Hogwarts, which he seemed to know everything about, despite the fact that he was an only child, Olivia and James wandered through the shop gathering all the books on the list. They rejoined their parents and paid for their new manuals of learning, and the two families parted ways with the typical pleasantries. James gave Olivia a friendly wink and she returned it with a friendly smile.
Peter and Olivia Cromwell gathered all their purchases, most of which were Olivia's school things, but a few were things for her father. They travelled back to their manor, far from London, once again by Floo Powder, to find Drizza cleaning the parlor and the silence as proof that Anne-Claire had gone to bed.
Drizza poured them some sort of juice and they settled down by the fireplace to relax and unwind before Olivia would go to bed. Peter was his usual silent self, and Olivia simply stared at the portrait over the fireplace for what seemed like hours. Out of nowhere, she decided to break the silence.
"Father? How do you know the Potters?"
Mr. Cromwell set down his empty glass and smiled. "You know, dear, I don't really remember where I first met them. I've known them nearly my whole life. They're good people, and they are friendly with many of my coworkers as well. I suppose we just know all of the same people."
"Are you really famous?"
He pondered the question, searching her face for the intent, and then realizing how foolish it was to suspect some sort of intent from his 10-year-old child. "I suppose I am, in a way. Many people know my name, and my job is very important."
"Are the Potters famous too?"
He laughed softly. "Not exactly. Many people know them, but they really don't do anything which puts them in that sort of spotlight, and I think they like it that way."
"Oh."
Olivia promptly returned to staring at the portrait.
"Are you ready for bed yet, dear?"
She shook her head, but he rose anyway and kissed her on the forehead.
"Well, I'm turning in, so this is goodnight. Drizza, please put her to bed soon. These next few days will be stressful and I want her to be sharp and ready when she starts school."
Drizza nodded and Mr. Cromwell lumbered off to his bedroom.
For what seemed like forever, but was really more on the lines of twenty minutes, Olivia pondered the day's events. Her father had lied to her, she had met a girl who could practically be her twin, and she found out that her father was famous. The world she knew had disappeared and she wondered if Hogwarts would be a strange place, or something familiar. Drizza took away the glasses and began to dust around the fireplace.
"Drizza?"
The sweet house-elf turned. "Yes, dear?"
"Father lied to me today."
Drizza's brow furrowed and she paused. "What do you mean?"
"We came across a girl, the daughter of the rough-looking man, and she looked just like me, but when I asked him why he said she looked nothing like me. It was a lie. He must have known. Why did he lie?"
Drizza continued the dusting carefully calculating her answer, and glancing almost subconsciously at the portrait above the fireplace. A few moments later, she finished the dusting and turned back to Olivia. "I'm sure he had his reasons, dear, but now it's time for you to sleep."
Reluctantly, Drizza walked Olivia to her room and said goodnight, pondering the girl's words, knowing exactly what they meant, and dreading the fallout of her master's snap decision.
A/N: For those of you who've read The Marauder's Beginnings, this should look very familiar. That's because it's ESSENTIALLY the same chapter. The first three chapters will be from The Marauder's Beginnings, but chapter four will be NEW MATERIAL, so don't give up. This is a new configuration of Olivia's story, going beyond where I left on in The Marauders Get Close, going up until Sirius's Azkaban imprisonment. Strap in, enjoy, and review! :D
