Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Aaron Spelling, Joss Whedon , Jennifer Saunders & Ryan Murphy as well as various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Prologue Scene OneThe woman sifted through the rubble and peered at ruins of a once majestic house; a house which hadn't been touched for 17 years, a house that everyone knew about but never set foot near. The name on the letterbox said it all. The Potter Family.
The older woman crossed the barrier, which had not been pulled down since that fateful night so long ago, and slowly walked up the front steps to where the door had once been and glanced in. She looked to the left hand side of the door and saw a brass name plaque that said 'Dinsmore', the woman smiled to herself as she walked inside.
The house was so deathly silent as the woman poked and prodded through the rubble trying to find something, anything, that would benefit her long journey to Godric's Hollow. The red hair on the back of her neck started to tingle she could feel the presence of another in the house, watching her every move. She put this feeling to the back of her mind as she continued her search. The house was in such a state that there was virtually nothing left worth salvaging. There was one room left; their room tears welled in her eyes as she thought of them so young, so innocent so happy all of that gone in one night a night she wished had not happened drastically ripping apart her family.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed lying under a broken mirror a bright blue book, she bent to pick it up, blowing off years of dust and dirt to read the words emblazoned on the front in fine gold letters. The Diary of Lily Evans Potter.
"Ah now this looks promising." thought the woman
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you?" said a detached voice
The startled woman turned around and there looking at her from within a broken picture frame was a rather stern looking woman.
"I mean it, put the book back and leave this place," the picture bellowed
Regaining her composure the woman looked at the picture "And why should I?" she demanded.
"Because," the picture retorted
"Because why?" the woman cried
"Just because," the picture said snidely
"This is impossible. I am being threatened by a talking picture that talks in riddles. Now if you are finished can I take what I have come for and leave?" asked the woman as she turned to leave the room.
"Wait a minute, I know you don't I?" enquired the picture
"Well the real you did, we were great friends she helped me a lot when I came to Hogwarts for the tri-wizard tournament all those years ago." remembered the woman.
"So Pandora is there anything left worth salvaging for the boy?" she explained to the picture of Pandora Potter, Harry Potter's Great Grandmother.
"Other than what you have in your hand, a few pictures scattered around the house of family members and that box over there, there is nothing left worth taking," Pandora tells the woman.
The woman glances over to an ornate Chinese lacquered box. It looks as if it had just been put there, as there was not an ounce of dust or decay anywhere on it. The woman picked it up and cast's a spell on it shrinking it so she could put it into her pocket.
"So Pandora would you or any of your remaining painted family like to be saved from the ravages of time as well and come with me?" the woman asked the portrait
"Let me check with the rest of the family that are still able to traverse picture frames." She replied as she left her picture.
Mere minutes had passed when she returned with a small barrage of other painted family members.
"I have spoken to as many family members as I could and these are the only ones that wanted to leave our home," Pandora softly said, "knowing that they might be needed for the bigger picture."
Looking from left to right at the people currently residing in Pandora's broken ornate frame, the woman saw quite a hotch potch of generations. In order they were Anastasia and Edwina Potter, Pandora's Twin Daughters, or was that Edwina and Anastasia, who can say, Oliver and Anne Potter, both Harry's Grandparents, as well as Pandora's Son and Daughter in law and rounding out the motley crew was Serverus Snape the first, Pandora's Father.
"Wait for me, kind woman." Came a voice and there trying to fit into the frame much to everyone's annoyance was the first Potter ever to be painted – Maurice Potter. The woman looked at the strange looking man who was painted wearing rawhide boots and a buckskin jacket with the hereditary tussled hair only his was brown and well as cold steely blue eyes that sparkled with pain. He was painted in 1779 just after his marriage to Claudia Snape, a distant cousin, and just before his mysterious disappearance. He was strange looking, since at the time of the sitting the look of the day, which was straight from Paris, was that of the white wigged pompadours, who tiptoed around in high heeled velvet slippers, pinched snuff and dabbed at their noses with embroidered handkerchiefs. He was different more rough and ready not like his peers of the time. The woman shook herself out of her stupor and spoke to the assembled Potter family members.
"Well it is getting late and things have to be put into motion if the prophecy is to be completed once and for all," the woman said as she took the portrait down from the wall.
Just like with the box she cast a spell on the picture and shrunk it so it was able to fit in a pocket of her robes.
Unheard by the woman Oliver asked his mother who the woman was and Pandora said that she was the only person that could help the family, and bring them all back to the land of living, this last comment she said under her breath.
"I hope you are all holding on as this is going to be a bumpy ride." With a flick of her wrist and a few choice words coming from the pictures current inhabitants they vanished, leaving the house permanently devoid of life….for now.
Scene TwoThe young man stretched, as he leaned over to his lover, to wake the youth up.
"Aemonaphne, my darling, it is time to wake," he said soothingly in the ear of the beautiful male,
With these words the youth opened his eyes with a flutter.
"Is it morning already Sebastian?" he yawned sleepily.
"Yes my darling," he said as he caressed his face. "It is morning and I must depart before I am missed from my own room," he stated as he left the bed.
"Will I see you later on my darling?" Aemonaphne queried
"It is still too early to say," he replied. "Maybe," with this he closed the door to the youth's room.
Sebastian of the Glade ran quickly and quietly through the castle to his chambers, when he arrived he threw off his clothes and ran into the bathroom to clean himself up after his night's activities.
After about an hour he returns to his sleeping chambers looking as fresh as a daisy, he takes a look at his reflection in the mirror in his room and smiles at his reflection liking what he sees. Looking back at him was a very attractive man in his mid twenties, about six ft four in height, with a tanned complexion and a very muscular body. Turning around he sees the long dark brown tresses of his hair that goes too his waist with the prominent silver streak running through it. He looks at his face. His silver grey eyes with a hint of blue in them look back at him. He breaks into a smile that accentuates his strong Northern European facial features, which have been passed down through the family by a supposed Veela ancestor.
He looks at his watch "Shit," he mutters under his breath, "I'm late for that meeting with Uncle Galadriolas." He ran out of his room to the chamber of the Druid Elders where Sebastian was to meet his Uncle.
He burst through the doors of the chamber looking flustered he lets out a fast breathy "SorryImlateIsleptin."
"That's fine Sebastian, I knew you would be probably late so I moved our meeting forward twenty minutes," the elder said calmly.
"So what is this meeting about Uncle?" Sebastian queried
"I have received an owl from your benefactor that states that in the twilight of Gloom, darkness and evil that is slowly encompassing, is about to overthrow the world, he needs a man of virtue, instilled with humour, honor, courage and compassion. I have suggested that you would be fine for the task at hand," the Galadriolas an said looking at the Sebastian.
"What is the task uncle?" Sebastian asked
"Our benefactor has asked that you go to Beauxbatons Academy for Witches and Wizards and join their staff as the professor in charge of the Care for Magical Creatures. When you get there you will be asked by our benefactor to perform a personal task for him, do not worry it will not be dangerous, he wants you to keep an eye on something for him while you are there," Galadriolas said looking thoughtfully at his 'nephew'
"When does he want me to go?" Sebastian queried
"The school term begins in two months," replied Galadriolas, "So that gives you plenty of time to get there and settle in."
"Great," replied the young man very negatively.
"While you are there you will go by the name of Sebastian dela Glade, is that fine with you?" Galadriolas whispered.
"Yep. That's fine," the young man retorted. "At least I will be teaching a subject that I am passionate about, and not something like Potions or heavens forbid Divination." At this last remark the man laughs.
Sebastian bids leave from his Uncle, who is left to ponder has he done the right thing sending his charge out into the real world where he might be corrupted.
"I hope he is stronger than most, since the temptation will definitely be put in front of him especially with his family there, the family he does not know about." Galadriolas thinks to himself as he writes on a parchment he has accepted and calls forth his favorite owl Meticulous "Take this to our benefactor quickly" and with this command the owl heads off into the blue sky
"God speed to all of you," whispers Galadriolas has he dropped off to sleep in his chair.
Scene ThreeIt was a place of ancient evil.
Somehow the evil seemed to hang in the air, like smoke or fog that long centuries had been unable to disperse. Along the length of one of the walls of the chamber was a massive scrying pool, sitting not unlike a plasma screen mounted on the wall. The pool looked faded since it had not been used in centuries. A wizard would have guessed it to be an early primitive version of today's fire call network. A huge game table dominated the centre of the room. It held a contoured model of a bleak and desolate landscape. In the centre there was a tower.
Even in model form it looked sinister, threatening.
On a nearby table stood a carved ivory box. Scarlet robed, scarlet gloved, the player sat at the scrying pool casting spells on the untouched item. The scrying pool swirled into action, filling with the swirling mists of a temporal vortex. The scarlet robed player worked with obsessive concentration, and at last his efforts met with some success.
The swirling mists in the pool resolved themselves into a blurred picture – a picture of a man. An old white haired man with piercing green eyes.
The player leaned forward eagerly, silently muttering an ancient spell, bringing the picture into clear focus.
It was time for the game to begin.