General Warnings:

Please remember that this is my very first attempt in writing a story in english (since I'm italian). I will probably make some mistakes, but feel free to correct me, I'm also here to learn!

I don't own any of the characters you will read about, all the credits go to J.K. Rowling (bless her!).

There will be some blood and possibly mature contents, so if you are very sensitive, you may want to stop reading here.

It is a fanfiction about James Potter, the Marauders, Severus Snape and many others.

Who wants to guess which character can Four be?

Enjoy!


Prologue

The stones were cold and damp.

It was not a new feeling for number Four: he really didn't remember being safe and warm even for a moment in his life. It was not a long life, although Four was just able to count his years on his fingers.

He was five, probably, or at least so he had heard during the last tests.

That day, the healers were standing right in front of him, testing his powers, watching him while he made various objects levitate without using a wand.

The healers were not usually kind and they were not even real healers. They didn't do any good, anyway. They just standed there, barking orders, avoiding touching the little boy and punishing him when he didn't act properly.

Sometimes, though, there was one short man with a trembling smile. He talked to Four, but the child quickly understood that he wasn't allowed to do so.

The last time, days ago (or maybe weeks, he really didn't know), the short man looked down on his papers (all healers had their hands full of papers and they were costantly writing down notes at every move Four made) and that trembling smile came up.

"Happy birthday, I guess, Four"

It was not so much of a birthday.

At the very end of the testing session, the skinny man had appeared. Four didn't like any of the healers, but he was scared to death by the skinny man.

He had looked at Four, who was shaking already in his chair where he was tied up, and asked for a regeneration test.

So one of the healers, the old one, the one that smells like cold stones, had approached the little child, ignoring his pleas and screams.

Four had watched the wand of the old one touching his arm and then one large chunk of skin and flesh was ripped off and it fell on the ground with a disgusting noise.

Four remembered that, more than pain, more than anything else.

The noise.

Regeneration had quickly kicked in and the bleeding was soon stopped as the tissues repaired themselves.

So, after this final test, while Four was still trembling with a cry that couldn't come out, the little one had approached and given him the news.

Five years old.

To Four, it was like eternity.

He hugged his pillow tight, trying to grasp the idea of time passing by, but it seemed just meaningless, there.

The darkness surrounded him already: the guards didn't allow him to stay up after dinner.

Every now and then Four heard one of the guards stopping in front of his door, trying to figure out if the child was asleep or not.

Four was too scared and the pain in the arm was too strong for letting him sleep, but he stayed silent and very, very still.

He remembered when, after a painful test, he had spent the night crying: the guards had punished him because he wouldn't fall asleep.

Rules are rules, they said.

This time, though, the guard kept walking and Four started to breath again.

His arm was itching, but it didn't bleed anymore, which was good, at least because he would be able to fall asleep, eventually.

And yet Four couldn't ignore the heavy feeling throbbing in his stomach.

That scaring, painful feeling that dried out his mouth every time he thought about his age.

Five years.

Tomorrow, the healers were going to come and to take him for other tests.

Time was pointless.

"I don't..." Four whispers.

He was learning to speak properly, but his vocabulary was very limited: he listened to the healers, grasping the few words they share in front of him.

"I don't wanna be alone."

And then, as the world was actually listening to him, a loud bang filled the air, like an explosion.

Four jumped on his feet, finding himself on the other side of the bed, eyes huge with horror.

But it wasn't the door, it wasn't the guard.

It took a while for him to notice, but on the wall, one foot from the ground, partially covered by his bed, a small hole has appeared.

Well, it looked more like it was created by a very strong force, as someone, a huge someone, had tried to damage the stone with a very heavy hammer.

It was an impossible task for a human, even a wizard, and yet there it was.

Four could almost feel the cold breeze tingling his skin, soothing the burning sensation on his arm.

He waited, expecting to hear the sound of footsteps approaching: the loud noise surely was enough to draw the attentions of the guards outside.

Four counted the seconds, at least until he could remember the correct numbers, but none came.

And then, like he had been struck with a sudden thought, the child left his pillow and crawled on the floor until his head was just in front of the hole.

A small wind blew against his skin and his bald head.

It wasn't big, but it was big enough to let Four trough: the child had the impression that it was meant to be like that.

For a second, he almost gave up: fear yelled at him that he had to go back to bed, but he couldn't listen.

All that he needed was a small push and he was out.