Chapter 1: Photograph

A cold autumn afternoon saw Harry in his office. Now a fully qualified Auror, and youngest person in Wizarding history to be elected Head Auror, it was safe to say he was very satisfied and content in his life. He had a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, three remarkable children and wonderful friend. Yes. Life was good. But unfortunate, having such a high profile job meant that he often finished lvery mate at night, sometimes he even had to work into the wee hours of the morning.

Harry sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair. Even as an adult it refused to flat to his head, sticking up in every direction and no matter how much sleek-eaze he used, it wouldn't cooperate. He yawned. It had been a long week at work, so many trials to attend, so many statements to give, so much evidence to present. Even all these years later, death eaters were still being rounded up and brought before the Wizengamot to be tried and sentenced. After the Second Wizarding War, a vast majority had gone into hiding. But luckily, slowly but surely, they were diminishing in numbers and being weeded out.

He immensely enjoyed being an auror, and there was no other job he'd rather do. But being away from his family for so long was a real struggle.

A photograph on his desk caught Harry's eye. It was a photo that had been taken last year at the burrow. Ginny was holding Lily in her arms as mother and daughter laughed. James and Albus were glaring at each other from either side of their father, both boys wearing their Hogwarts uniform. Harry recalled that the two had had a small spat just before the photo was taken. Albus had made the quidditch team, whereas James had only been made an alternate. Needless to say he had been fiercely jealous, but the boys had soon made up after. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Family life was never dull.

"Mr Potter?" A small voice called.

Harry looked up to see Katie Bell peeking her head through his office.

"Oh hey, Katie." He greeted. "Come in."

Katie had been assigned as his personal secretary some months back. After a brief fling with Jordan Lee, followed by a quick marriage and ending in a messy divorce, the girl had been desperate for a job. Divorces were expensive and from what Harry had heard, Jordan wasn't making the experience any less unpleasant.

"Sorry to bother you Mr Potter. But there's a woman here to see you. She said it's important." Katie explained.

Harry nodded. "Okay send her in."

Katie smiled gently before turning back to the door.

"Oh and, Katie?" Harry called as she paused to turn and look at him. "You know you don't have to call me 'Mr Potter'. Harry is fine." He grinned.

She smiled back before exiting his office, Harry heard her murmur through the door as she signaled for whomever was on the other side to go through.

He looked up as a woman entered, dressed in long, emerald colored robes with fine silver embroidery running along the cuffs and collar. An oval silver locket rested on her chest, engraved with something Harry couldn't quite make out. Her hair was neither blonde nor platinum, but a tone of pure white and piled high on her head in an elegant twist. Her skin was a sickly pale color, and dark circles hung heavy under her eyes.

She reached up to remove the dark sunglasses she wore from her face and only once Harry saw the shocking shade of blue of her eyes, did he realize what this woman was. She wasn't just any woman. 'Veela'. A voice whispered in his head. Despite the kind smile on her face, Harry found that she looked rather exhausted, as if she hadn't slept for weeks. Harry figured she couldn't have been any more than fifty years old, potentially a little younger if she didn't look so tired.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter. I do hope I'm not interrupting." She said softly. Her voice was smooth like butter, and Harry could tell that from the articulation of her voice, this woman had had a high class upbringing. As if she'd sat through hours of elocution lessons as a child.

"Good afternoon, Mrs...?" He paused, for the woman had yet to introduce herself.

"Whitewall. Penelope Whitewall, Mr. Potter. And it's actually Miss Gracey. My husband died last week and I have been going by my maiden name since then." She replied. "A pleasure to meet you at last." She held out her hand for him to take. He paused briefly, unsure if he should shake it, or bow his head and kiss it, like some posh and educated pure-blood that she was no doubt used to. He reached up to take her hand nonetheless, but never even had the chance to decide before she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and returned her arm to her side. He didn't miss how cold her hands felt, even through the very clearly expensive mink and leather gloves she wore. It was still like touching a block of ice. The name sounded extremely familiar to Harry and he began racking his brain before he realized who she had been married to.

"As in William Whitewall, the chancellor? My condolences on your husband. He was a good man." Harry said. He had grown to know the man over the years, William having sat in on many a sentencing for the death eaters. But unfortunately, William had succumbed to a heart attack, his old age finally catching up with him. Harry hadn't known the man was married, but if his wife was grieving her husband, no wonder she looked so tired and worn down.

He was surprised when she absently waved her hand. "No need. We all die eventually, no need to cry about the inevitable. But yes. He was a good man. And a good husband. I like to think of my husbands' death as mercy killing, Mr Potter. He is no longer forced to endure me as his wife." Her voice held no amount of sadness whatsoever. She almost seemed rather blasé about her husbands passing. But weren't Veela supposed to mourn the death of their mate? Most often followed their mates soon after. The grief and sadness being too much to bear.

"I can see you are confused, Mr Potter. I saw your face when I entered your office. You know perfectly well what I am." She smiled. There was a twinkle in her eye, almost like she found the situation humorous. "Would you mind if I sat down? Unfortunately at my age the joints do protest when one stands for too long."

Harry practically jumped from behind his desk to pull out the opposite chair for her. "Of course. Please. Sit." He said but he frowned inwardly. Her age? The woman couldn't have been more than fifty at the most.

As she sat down, he noticed her gaze turn to the photo of Ginny and the kids that he had previously been looking at. "Your family?" She asked. Harry nodded. "May I?" Her hand reached out for the frame, but she waited for his permission before touching it. Harry nodded once again, and she gently lifted the frame from his desk.

"You have very beautiful children. You and your wife must be very proud." She carried on gazing at the photo, and Harry could help but notice the wistful look in her eyes. An almost...longing.

"We are. Ginny is a wonderful mother." He replied, a happy smile on his face. "We're actually thinking about having another child."

"That's wonderful. Parenthood is such a blessing. My husband and I never had children. You're very lucky, Mr Potter." She smiled up at him, before looking back down at his family.

Harry smiled back. "I know. Ginny and I are really lucky. I'm really excited about the prospect of another baby too. She's contemplating on whether we should or not. But it's her body so it's her choice. I'm hoping she does chose to have another one though." He was surprised when Miss Gracey's' face turned sad.

"Choice." She sighed. "It's strange how little choice we have in this world isn't it?"

Harry furrowed his brow at her strange words. What an odd thing to say. "That's not true, we have lots that we're able to decide. Life doesn't take our choices from us. We decide our own fate."

His response was met with a chuckle. "Oh, how wrong you are, Mr. Potter. Life does take our choices from us. And fate is no kinder." She sighed as she placed the photo gently back down on his desk. "In life we have many easy choices. We can choose if we would like scrambled eggs on toast or porridge for breakfast. We have some choices that are a little bit harder. Such as deciding what career path we'd like to follow when we get older. But the hard choices, the ones that really matter, are the ones that life makes for us. We don't get to decide what we want. If I had my own freedom to choose, I like to think that many people's lives would have been very different. Yours' included." Miss Gracey sat up in her chair as she folded her hands daintily in her lap. "It is also why I have come to see you today, because by the time I am finished here, you will also have a choice to make. And I promise you it will be a very hard one." She finished.

Harry opened his mouth to speak and ask what on earth she was talking about but she cut him off. "I must congratulate you as well on winning the war. I am aware it was two decades ago but I'm afraid I never managed to visit you before now. The circumstances being what they were." She shrugged gently, watching him as he came round to sit back behind at his desk.

"Circumstances?" He asked in confusion.

She smiled, her lips quirking in mild amusement. "As I said. My husband died only recently. I have been unable to come before now. You see, I promised my husband when we married that I would never say a word to anyone about our marriage as long as he was alive. Now with his death, I am able to speak freely."

Harry could feel his temple start to throb. This woman was beyond confusing. She seemed to make no sense whatsoever and her sentences were so random he was beginning to get a headache from trying to work out what she was even saying. Did she even know what she was saying herself?

She chuckled. "You look rather confused."

"I'm afraid I am confused. Excuse me if I sound rude, but why are you here?"

"You hardly sound rude, Mr. Potter." She smiled. "I am over ninety years old. So believe when I say I have heard rude people speak before."

At her revelation, Harry nearly fell backwards out of his chair. Ninety years old???

"Perhaps I should start from the beginning." She offered. "I fear that if I continue to muddle your head even further, we shall be forced to admit you to St Mungo's after you've had an aneurysm." She laughed.

The woman was completely batty! That was the only explanation. Complete and utter bonkers! Off her rocker. Anyway you wanted to put it, she had to be barking mad.

"I can assure you, Mr Potter, that I am not insane. I can tell exactly what you're thinking by the look on your face. After being alive for almost one hundred years you get very good at reading people. And right now, you are an open book." She sighed, smoothing her hand over her robes, flattening out invisible creases. "I have to admit, I am rather embarrassed you've had to see me in such a mess." She sighed. "I didn't always look this haggard. I'll have you know I was quite the looker in my youth." She giggled with a wink. Yep. Definitely off her rocker. But for now, he'd humor her. He was still very curious as to why she was here in the first place.

"Perhaps if you'd start at the beginning, like you said." Harry motioned with his hand for her to continue.

"As you wish." She nodded. "This photo, it's your favorite, is it not?" She gestured to his desk.

Harry nodded. What did his photo have to do with anything? "How could you tell?" He asked.

Miss Gracey darted her eyes around his office, waving her hand at the many other frames on his walls. "You hung these, but that one you keep on your desk. You keep it close." She stated. "Before I begin, would you permit me to take a closer look at your photographs?"

"You seem to have an odd fascination with my photos, Miss Gracey. I will of course allow you to take a closer look but only if you answer me as to why." Harry replied, leaning back into his chair. A quick glance at his clock told him that it was almost 6 o'clock. Ginny would soon be preparing dinner. He didn't want to be late.

"Photographs are important. They're the clearest form of memories. And in the end, memories are all we have." With that, Miss Gracey stood slowly on shaking legs. Harry moved forward to help her, but stopped when she held up her hand. "Now, now don't fuss. Once I stand, I'm fine. It's the getting up that's a struggle. Like I said. Old age." She smiled at Harry softly before walking over to the frames hung on the wall. "Now, let's see..." She whispered to herself. "Ah. Your wedding day." She grinned at the first one, before moving on. "This I presume, was your Graduation day at Hogwarts." She turned back to look at Harry, noting the smile of pride in his face.

"I repeated my seventh year. I wanted to be an auror and despite having more field experience than most aurors twice my age, by law I had to Graduate to be able to qualify." Harry explained.

"I see Professor Slughorn made it that day." She noted.

"Yes he did." Harry nodded in response. "You knew him?"

"Yes I did. He was a good man. Also very kind and selfless." Harry didn't miss how her voice cracked and the end. "I found out he'd died two days after his funeral. I never got to say goodbye to him and he did so much for me as a girl. It would have been nice to... to have been able to say how grateful I was." Miss Gracey let out a heavy sigh as she wiped under eyes, removing any evidence of the tears that had been running down her cheeks. "I think that it's probably time to tell you exactly why I'm here, Mr Potter." She stated, marching back over to her chair with a newfound energy she hadn't displayed previously before dropping herself back into the seat.

Harry regarded her with newfound interest, finally she'd reveal why she'd come to see him.

"I'm afraid to say that you and I have more in common than you think. We both lost our parents at a young age. You however, were much younger than I, and despite you also bearing witness to your parents deaths, I unfortunately, was old enough to remember." She began. "I am, as you can see, Veela, my mother was Élira Veliu of the Albanian Veela clan. And my father was Graham Gracey, son of an Auror." Miss Gracey paused before she reached into her bag, pulling out a a small vial of thick silvery liquid. Harry watch as she popped off the cap and downed the whole vial in one mouthful. "Excuse me." She apologized. "Now where was I?"

"Your parents." Harry replied.

"Thank you. As I was saying, my parents were very much in love. My mother being lucky to find her true mate by the time she was eleven, just in time to come into her heritage. She blood-bound herself to my father by the time she was sixteen. And when she turned eighteen, she fell pregnant with me."

Harry frowned. "Pardon me for interrupting you, but I still fail to see what all this has to do with me."

Miss Gracey smiled. "I'm getting there. You see, my mother was full Veela, and until she met my father, her bloodline had been nothing but Veelas finding Veelas. My father was the first non-Veela in the entire bloodline. So, due to my him causing a dilution, I am only half. My aura is nowhere near as strong as my mother's, but I dare say, if you will forgive my boast, that without my elixir, your marriage vows would mean very little to you, should I desire to use my influence." She grinned cheekily. Her grin only seemed to grow wider as Harry shot up in his chair, a look of rage on his previously relaxed face.

"I love my wife!" He barked. "I would never cheat on her!"

Miss Gracey tossed her head back and let out a loud laugh. "Relax, Mr Potter. I can assure you that I most certainly did not come here with the intention of seducing you. Trust me when I say, you are perfectly safe in my company." Despite the Cheshire Cat grin on her face, Harry found himself oddly believing her, and he sat back down to allow her to continue.

"My influence is nothing compared to the strength of my mothers. Hers' became so strong, that it was high risk for her to even go out in public. So like me, she was forced to take an elixir to suppress her abilities, therefore making it safer for her to go outside. However, she was still unfortunately raped and murdered before my eyes when I was a child. We had been walking home through London when a drunk Muggle beggar cornered us. I was ten" Miss Gracey's smile was gone, and replaced with a look of sadness. "My father had lost his mate and the grief destroyed him. He found himself unable to live without my mother and then proceeded to down an entire bottle of Draught Of Living Death only week after her passing. I was then sent to live my aunt Geraldine in London. My fathers sister was a kind woman. She raised me well, but I would have still rather have been with my parents. Not only because I loved them, and missed them. But because I knew that on my eleventh birthday, I would come into my heritage, and due to my aunt only being a witch, she would have no idea how to help me. I'm sure you understand when I say I was absolutely terrified." She glances over at Harry to see her was now looking at her with open interest. "Not only because I was going to be very much on my own throughout the whole process, but because I had seen what being a Veela had done to my parents. The bond they shared running so deep, that my father willingly followed her into death, just so he never had to bear living without her. That terrified me more than anything else did. Knowing that I would one day find a mate of my own. And risk condemning them to death, should I pass on. I didn't want that on my conscience. I didn't want that responsibility. But as you are aware. I did eventually find my husband. My true mate." She finished, waiting for his reaction.

Harry could feel himself growing impatient. Throughout all her gibberish about heritage and bloodlines, she still had to explain what any of it had to do with him.

"Please continue." He pressed.

"My husband was my true mate, Mr Potter. But he was by no means the love of my life. I met that person when I was no more than a simple student of Hogwarts. Just like you were." She explained, opening a pocket inside her jack and removing a small piece of paper.

"Meaning?" Harry asked.

"This is where you come in. You were kind enough to allow me to see your favorite photograph. Would you permit me to show you mine? The only one that I keep truly close?" She asked. Harry didn't miss how tightly she gripped the photo in her fingers, almost as if she was afraid it would disappear completely if her grip loosened.

Harry nodded silently, reaching out to take it from her outstretched hand. As he gazed down, the first thing that he noticed was that the photo was old, not just in picture quality but also in appearance, with a creased surface and frayed edges. Only two people were in the black and white picture, an extremely pretty young blonde girl and dark haired young man danced around happily, before the young man swept her up into his arms and proceeded to spin them around, much to her glee. He then proceeded to try and press a kiss against her check, before her head turned and managed to capture his lips with her own. Harry couldn't help but smile at the two of them. The absolute joy in both of their eyes was apparent. There was however, something very familiar about the both of them.

"I told you I was a looker." Miss Gracey giggled across from him.

Harry's eyes widened. "This is you?" If she was indeed the girl in the picture, maybe she wasn't completely bonkers after all.

"Indeed. I was sixteen when this photo was taken. Being a Veela slows down the ageing. That's why I don't look my real age. But that boy you see with me, was the love of my life. And I was his." She sighed sadly. "Like I said Mr Potter, life chooses our fate for us. And had I been able to decide for myself, it would have been him that I married. I would've happily been his wife and the mother to his children. And maybe, things may have been very different. My husband wouldn't have had to have a wife who didn't, and couldn't return his love because her heart belonged to someone else. His family line wouldn't have had to end because I didn't want his children. He would have been happy. I would have been happy. And maybe, just maybe, your own parents would have been here to see you grow into the man and father you've become." Tears we're now flowing freely for her eyes. But she made no move to wipe them away.

Harry was just about to ask what she meant, when something the boy did caught his eye. He smirked into the camera, and Harry felt his blood run cold and his stomach drop. He knew that smirk. He now realized why the boy seemed so familiar.

"He's...that's-that's...he's..." Harry stammered.

"He was known to the world by many different names. But to me, Mr Potter, he was just Tom. Tom Riddle."

EEEK!! I finally did it. I'm posting a story after months of telling myself I will. Just a warning that this story is going to be short, no more than 3 or four chapters. But they're going to be looong chapters. This one is rather short compared to the others so try to think of it as more of a prologue than a chapter. If you like it and would like to read more, write a review and don't forget to let me know what you think. More than the majority of the story is already written. So keep your eyes peeled for updates. They're coming fast!

Much love

JJ

xxx