(A/N: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Chapter has been updated from original form. There is now a version of the entire book available.)
Twenty minutes ago Edith and Donald Rosenberg had been the happiest couple in all of Great Britain. Six-month-old baby Marigold had just sat up all by herself, and the two of them had wasted no time in taking hundreds of pictures of their grinning girl. Her green eyes had sparkled with each high-pitched giggle. With each clap of her baby hands, Mr. Rosenberg had to fight the urge to swoop her into his arms and coddle her.
Everything had been fine until, after clapping her hands, baby Marigolds' stuffed horse zoomed into her hands. Mrs. Rosenberg had instantly screamed and dropped the camera; the sudden noise caused Marigold to stop giggling and completely fall over. It took only a second for Mr. Rosenberg to register what had happened and for the entire day to be ruined.
Mr. Rosenberg had frowned and quickly taken the toy away from Marigold, who, very surprised by the action, just blinked up at him. This wasn't the first time that his daughter had done something like this. There had been a few cases where she had caused similar problems. Mr. Rosenberg was a reasonable and well-respected man. If the people from church found out she had magic, as he was sure it was, then… he almost shuddered at the thought.
Without having to be told, Mrs. Rosenberg had quietly picked up Marigold and carried her upstairs to her crib. Without so much as looking back at her child, who was just previously the center of her attention, Mrs. Rosenberg returned to her husband. It had happened before, but she always thought it had been a fluke. There was simply no more denying that their daughter had… magic. She scowled at the word, vowing never to use it again, and crumbled into her husband's arms, and for a long time they just stood there, not saying a word.
"What are we going to do?" she finally whispered, fearing the answer.
"What can we do? We have tried everything. Scolding, a priest… we even tried reasoning with her," he answered. "We don't know where she got this, she's just a baby."
"Oh Donald, why is God punishing us? We're good people!" Mrs. Rosenberg wailed, finally giving into her worries.
"I know sweetheart, I know. Just have faith. Everything is going to be okay," he sighed, as he rubbed her back and held her close.
"No it won't!" she cried. "What if it happens when she is out of the house? What if it happens and someone sees!"
At that Mr. Rosenberg pushed her away and looked directly into her eyes. He didn't notice that his nails were digging into her arms. "Edith, we can't let that happen! No one can know. You have to keep her here, she can't leave the house!"
"A-alright," she stammered in response, the crazed look in her husband's' eyes causing her to tremble in fear.
He wrapped her in another hug, and the two of them stood there swaying for a long time. Neither of them said anything; there was no need. They had both known parenting was going to be an adventure when they decided to have Marigold, but nothing could have prepared them for the journey ahead of them.
Upstairs, in her crib, Marigold was reaching out for the painted stars on her ceiling. She had no idea the trouble she was causing her parents. She had no idea what magic was, or what anything was for that matter.
She certainly had no way of knowing, as she gazed at the little painted stars, that several miles away there was a little boy the same age as her. A little boy who was sitting up for the first time himself, a little boy with magic flowing through his own veins. No clue there was a boy with two parents who embraced his magical gift.
Only Fate herself knew that these two babies were intertwined: both Marigold and the Boy-Who-Lived.
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