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Hogwarts Chronicles: Book One
Prologue
It was March, and the weather couldn't seem to make up its mind. Since dawn it had snowed, hailed, turned sunny for an hour around lunch, then misted up and finally started to rain. A lone figure stood out in the downpour, apparently uncaring that his dark cloak was getting soaked. After weeks of searching - years really - it finally came to this. A Muggle hospital, infested with the filthy creatures the Dark Lord so despised.
His informant at Hogwarts had sent word that the child had been born sometime in the early hours and that it had turned out to be a girl. With this information in the Dark Lord's possession, the Fidelius Charm had shattered. Well, not Shattered exactly, merely sidestepped. The Charm wasn't infallible, especially when used on Muggles. The protection was on their house, not the couple themselves, and there had been a complication with the birth which had required a swift transfer to hospital. There would of course be other obstacles. Guards, for example; Dumbledore wasn't one to take chances, after all.
But the Dark Lord was confident he could overcome any minor obstructions with ease, especially with his prize so close. He set off across the car park towards the reception. Although it was nearly midnight the hospital was still ablaze with light and many people were still bustling to and fro in the marble lobby. Wishing to avoid detection for as long as possible, Voldemort cloaked himself in a powerful disillusionment charm and headed towards the stairs.
The maternity ward was on the second floor and as he turned into the corridor, Voldemort paused. There were a couple of midwives at the other end but they were walking away from him. A door halfway down opened and a young man emerged. He looked exhausted but pleased. He passed right by the Dark Lord on his way to the stairs but the wizard barely paid him any attention at all. There was tell-tale heat haze outside the door through which the man had come. It was a shame really, whoever was standing guard has cast an excellent charm, barely detectible. Such a waste of magical talent.
The Dark Lord dispensed with the witch or wizard and stepped past their body into the room. It was small and a little shabby, containing only a bed, a chest of drawers and a plastic crib by the dark window. Voldemort paid the mousy haired woman asleep in the bed as much attention as he had her husband. His entire focus was on the crib and its tiny occupant. He approached carefully and then paused in order to examine his prey.
Surprisingly, the baby was awake, and looking up at him with curious deep blue eyes. She gurgled a little as she kicked the knitted blanket covering her. Voldemort felt a surge of disgust. A Mudblood, why in Merlin's name did it have to be a Mudblood? Over the years he had kept watch for a true advisory to appear. There had been several Prophesised, and he had tracked down each and every one of these children before they grew old enough to be a danger. This girl was the seventh, but she was the first Mudblood. He felt somewhat insulted.
Voldemort pointed his wand very carefully towards the infant's heart. He wanted to see it die, to watch the life flicker out in its eyes.
"Avada Kedavra!"