Prologue: 1981
Lily looked down at her son with a smile. Everything had finally come into place. All of her life had converged into this one perfect moment.
"He's beautiful…" James muttered as he brushed the top of the infant's head. "Bloody gorgeous…" Lily smacked his arm on habit.
"For goodness sakes James. He's only a few hours old and you're already going to teach him to curse." Lily admonished. The bespectacled man chuckled and kissed her head then bushed his lip against the shock of his son's hair. A mediwitch came into the room with a smile.
"The birth certificate is ready." she said before handing the framed piece of parchment to James. He read it over with a smile
Harry James Potter
Son of James and Lily Potter
Born
July, 31st 1981
Rookhood sighed as he walked through the hall of prophecies. Cataloging was the most boring part of the job by far. And the gloves his had to wear made his hands itch for days. He much more enjoyed the experimentation. Especially in spells. Such deliciously viscous minds worked down in spell development. More than a few would be great additions to the Dark Lord's ranks. But it's was always a gamble. You never knew who would try to run for help, and you could only blame so many deaths on 'experiment gone wrong' before people began to take notice. In any case, Rookhood knew he had to take the mundane work in order to reap the full benefits of the entertaining work. Still, it could be worse, at least they hadn't sent some vapid intern to help. That could make any job ten times worse. Still, Augustus began humming a light tune as he stocked the prophecies when suddenly one, in particular, caught his eye. It wasn't a long prophecy, he could tell by the size, but the name on the tag drew his attention immediately:
S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D
Dark Lord and
(?)
His blood turned to ice. This was serious. More serious than anything he had ever seen in entire time in the department of mysteries. There was no way he could take the prophecy from the minister. He wasn't even able to touch it with his bare hands. Unless. Augustus slowly removed his glove. It was a long shot but…
"Well, Fredric. What did Augustus have to tell you so frantically." Voldemort asked in curiosity. The entire incident was steeped in confusion. A young intern found Augustus Rookhood in the hall of prophecies in the department of mysteries. His right glove had been abandoned at his feet and his bare hand showed extensive burns. He was babbling incoherently until suddenly he seemed to regain a modicum of sanity and demanded, oddly enough, for one Fredric Rowle. The man in question was quivering in fright at the knowledge in his head.
"My Lord… the prophecy… the prophecy that Augustus touched… it concerned you… and a child." Rowle said quietly. Voldemort 's brow ridge rose at his tone.
"What child?"
"My Lord… the child… is destined to destroy you." Rowle whispered. Voldemort stiffened and rose from his throne to his full height.
"Tell me everything." Voldemort demanded.
It was a cold evening. Minerva wasn't just saying that because of what had happened. The chill in the air made her wrinkle her nose. Suddenly all the streetlights along the suburban lane went out and another figure, an elderly man with a long beard to match his hair, joined her.
"Such a tragedy." the man said with a weary tone.
"Indeed." Minerva said as she walked with him down the dark street. "I think this is a terrible idea."
"He has nowhere else to go, Minerva." Albus said sadly
"Any family would take him, Albus! You know that!" Minerva snapped in anger
"But to raise him surrounded by fame. That has never done a child any good." Albus remarked. Minerva sniffed and pursed her lips as the pair arrived at the only light on the street still shining. It glinted off the brass number four seemingly setting it alight.
"Well, where is the child?" Minerva asked.
"Hagrid is fetching him." Albus explained. Minerva rose an eyebrow.
"Is that wise?" the austere woman asked nervously
"I trust him with my life, Minerva." Albus said with a smile as the roar of a motorbike seemed to descend not from down the street but the heavens. Albus frowned. "Is that…"
"Black's motorbike… peculiar." Minerva commented. The pair watched the giant bring over the precious child.
"He's going to be famous." Minerva said quietly. "Every child in our world will know his name."
"Indeed. So here he should stay." Dumbledore said quietly before he lay the child down in the light. Into the blankets he tucked a letter. The trio of witch and wizards watched as the child lay before Minerva cleared her throat and nodded then disappeared with a crack. The giant too nodded before he drove off on the bike once again. Dumbledore sighed and walked down the street a ways. Once he'd taken a few steps he pulled out a strange lighter. With a click of the fuse the street was lit up again. Dumbledore fixed his eyes on the small child lying comfortably in his warm blanket. This poor child had no idea what was to come. Across the world thousands were toasting his name. Across the world a sobbing toddler was being handed to his grandmother. Across the world a spirit slinked across the ground, damning his existence.
"Good luck." Dumbledore said quietly. "Harry Potter."