Prologue

Several generations past, in a country known for tea time and knights who at one time sat around a table which was round, there lived a community of people beyond the wildest imagination of the average Muggle. It was a society widely overlooked by most people, as it is a generally recognized fact that Muggles usually only see what they want to see. On top of this, most Muggles have given up believing in anything odd and extraordinary once they leave childhood and thus the time in their lives which imagination and fascination with unexplainable occurrences are acceptable.

By the time most Muggles became adults they only see their mundane ordinary lives, the daily grind, if you will, of the same old pattern day in and day out. Muggles don't seem to mind this however because usually this is all that they now and therefore it becomes exciting in some strange way. Muggle children are usually the only members of this cultural group who see the lives of those which they will someday become, as they really are, intolerably boring and monotonous.

Of course there are members of this social order who do not live like this, they go out every day not knowing what will happen, where they will end up, what crazy adventure they will become involved in. But for the point of this story, let us overlook these people. For as interesting as they are, they will serve no purpose in the tale in which we will shortly embark. Because these people as fascinating as they appear do not abhor to supernatural or mysterious beliefs. They are just as stubborn in their beliefs that life not being anymore magical then government funded scientific belief would allow.

This was exactly how the other community of rather extraordinary individuals, whom lived amongst those Muggles, who saw and knew nothing, preferred it. For the other group of people knew the importance of secrecy, they knew that people were afraid of what they didn't understand and what frightened them often led to prejudiced.

For the most part these people did not wish to frighten anyone, a large number of them were as relatively peaceful and kind mannered as the average family living in 1950's suburbia.

Believe it or not they were very much like you and I, except that these people had one had one very large difference. On first look you might not see anything so diverse about them, after all they looked no different then the average human being. They spoke the same languages, celebrated the same holidays and so on and so forth. Yet they were very different.

For their society was one of magic. The men and women within it were witches and wizards. The country was Great Britain and the year was 1958.

In a hospital in Ashtead, Surrey not far from the home which he shared with his wife and young daughter, a red haired man nervously paced up and down in the waiting room of the Hospital's birthing clinic. Wringing his hands with anticipation he glanced up at the clock on the wall. He had been walking back and forth, the entire length of the room, for nearly two hours. Gritting his teeth nervously, as he often did when under extremely stressful circumstances he looked towards the double doors which he knew his pregnant wife was just behind. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable cry of an infant. The red haired man looked up at the double doors with anticipation, his bright green eyes excited. Lily Evans had been born.

Weeks later in London inside a hospital hid well from the average prying eye, a tall man with messy dark hair and glasses held a newborn baby close to his chest as he looked down at the infant wrapped in a blue blanket with affection. Next to him a small woman with chestnut curls held off her face by a red ribbon looked at her husband with a mix of exhaustion and love. "Isn't he beautiful?" sighed the wife. The man tore his eyes from the baby and leaned down to kiss his wife tenderly on the forehead. "He is more then beautiful Evelyn. He is perfect." The wife, Evelyn, leaned back into the pillows propping her up upon her bed and happily shut her eyes, "a perfect little boy" she sighed. "Mary Alice will adore him" the man said as he softly stroked the cheek of the newborn boy. "Oh yes Harold" Evelyn said, "I imagine they will be best friends." Harold Potter smiled at Evelyn and nodded his head, "Yes she will positively adore her new baby brother, James."

Several countries away a lone baby lay in her glass bed in the nursery. This hospital was very obviously one in which magic was apparent all around. Witches and Wizards gazed into the nursery all dressed in long flowing robes, wands tucked behind ears or sticking out from a pocket. MediWitches bustled about the large nursery checking on the infants, feeding, burping and paying attention to the new born babies.

The little girl lay in her small bed, looking around her with interest. The child's mother had insisted the child stay in the nursery since she cried all hours of the day and night and kept the baby girl's mother awake. The Father of the baby had not even seen his six day old child yet. Of course he was an extremely busy man. On the other side of the glass several of the witches and wizards pointed at the sign on the baby girl's glass crib. Every crib had one; it stated the name of the child. "Do you see the last name of that baby there?" asked one woman; "Yes, Yes Chiavatti isn't it?" replied the man next to her. "I wonder don't you? If it is the new daughter of Ruggerio Chiavatti, I heard his wife was having their daughter at this hospital." It was to become the bane of the little girl's existence, her famous father. For years she would be the daughter of Ruggerio Chiavatti and never simply Arabella, which was all she ever really wanted to be.

Back in Great Britain still later on that same year a noticeably young, good looking blonde couple walked behind a tram as they meandered through a park near their home in Cambridge. The young man had wrapped one of his arms around the thin waist of his wife as he pulled her toward him and kissed her on the cheek. The girl for she couldn't have been a day over twenty giggled and looked up at the man with appreciation. Inside the pram a baby gurgled happily. The women leaned over the pram and tickled the baby's stomach, to which the infant shrieked gleefully. The man laughed as he rubbed his wife's back and watched the two members of his little family with contentment. "Look at little Remus smile" he whispered into his glowing wife's ear.

In a large and well known house in Northern London a baby lay quietly in a crib in an elaborate nursery. The infant was all alone and even if it had cried for attention no one would have come to comfort him. The baby's father was deep within his study several floors below in a meeting with several important political advisors, the baby's mother was having tea at the house of a friend and would not likely be back for hours. The House Elf's were all busy, preparing for the couple's dinner party which was set to be held that evening for a large handful of the high society couple's friends. The child was all alone, but by now the baby was used to it. Sirius Black learned from an early age that being alone was far better then being surrounded by his family.

In Northern England a little, stout women dressed in brown robes and an apron held a baby as she rocked back and forth in an old rickety rocking chair. Softly she sung a tune into the infant's ear so only the baby could hear. It was a touching moment between son and mother. Of course that was the only type of moments the two had, the small baby boy's father had left his wife shortly after learning she was pregnant. It had been horrible at first but now her baby boy was her pride and joy. Nothing would ever stop her from being the best mother that she could be to her son. "I will be the best mother in the world to you Peter Pettigrew, for you are my world" the woman thought to herself.

So begins our tale, of friendship, love, loyalty, betrayal, truth, darkness and sacrifice.