Jade Potter Glimmerworth and the Chosen One
By Cassandra Day
Prologue
An emerald cloaked figure swept down a dark, snowy, deserted street. It was Christmas Eve at dusk and no light could be found except from the moon, the dim streetlights, and light from a stick the shrouded figure was holding.
A loud "CRACK!" split through the night. The figure paused, their gleaming eyes searching through bleakness for something.
"Hullo. Strange to find you out on a Muggle road at this time. Shouldn't you be off with your Minister?" An unseen person with a bossy-ish voice said.
The figure gazed off toward the direction of the speaker. "My business is my own, and I don't have to answer to a British Auror. Shouldn't you be with your family? And Apparating? So close to Muggles? With your terrible wandwork, Muggles could be waking up at this moment!"
A man with a cloak in a violent shade of purple (which clashed terribly with his flaming hair) stepped out of the shadows. "I wouldn't be insulting my wandwork unless you want to experience it firsthand. And while you're visiting here, you're subject to the rules of international cooperation."
"I fully understand the agreements, Ronald, but if Kingsley sent you after me, that's just tearing down respect for our Ministries!"
"Harry sent me," whispered the man, Ronald.
The figure blinked in surprise, and then their glare hardened. "If you mind, I'm looking for him. I just sent him an owl a while ago."
"Well, get on then. He can handle himself of course, defeating You-Know-Who, being head of the Auror Office, etcetera. And you can't forget about Ginny, excellent Bat-Bogey Hexes….."
The figure hadn't responded, but in their place was a golden-eyed female peregrine falcon, which looked at Ronald with distaste, and flew off into the night.
Ronald shrugged, and disappeared swiftly with a less audible "Crack!"
The Potter's Home
As it was Christmas Eve, there was much celebration in the Potter home. Golden baubles hung from the ceiling, wreaths full of holly stuck on the doors, magicked mistletoe hung above unsuspecting kissers.
The magic fire crackled warmly in the fireplace, the radio let out jolly Christmas music, and a lovely feast was spread across the long table.
Guests were dancing, laughing, singing, showing off, and gossiping happily.
But there was one person in the room who wasn't all joyous.
He had unruly black hair, horn-rimmed glasses, almond-shaped emerald eyes, and a stick-like figure. And he had an old wand with lots of finger marks that had a special phoenix feather in it. He was none other than Harry Potter.