Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belongs to J.K. Rowling.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…
***
Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.
"What request could a Death Eater make of me?"
"The – the prophecy … the prediction … Trelawney …"
"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"
"Everything – everything I heard!" said Snape. "That is why – it is for that reason – he thinks it means Lily Evans!"
"The prophecy did not refer to a woman," said Dumbledore. "It spoke of a boy born at the end of July –"
"But he doesn't know that! He thinks it means her child, he is going to hunt her down – kill them all-"
***
A letter told her that her sister was dead. A letter, and a child on her doorstep a chilly November morning.
No explanation, no condoleances; just a letter that spoke of murder and madmen,
of strange protections and of blood. It left no option for refusal.
Magic was pain and fear and injustice; magic was being left behind and grief and sorrow.
Magic was insane and strange and unnatural, but for Lily's sake she would endure.