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"Albus... what a pleasant surprise. I must say, I didn't expect to see you here on this particular night."
"We both know the prophecy, Tom. It wasn't a matter of when you would act, but whom you would pursue."
"Of course, how could I forget... Why are you here, Albus? Surely you don't think you can stop me now."
"No. I can't stop you. But I won't let you kill an innocent child."
"You're one to talk of innocence, Albus. You preach good will and compassion, yet you constantly connive, lie, and cheat to get what you want."
"It's for the greater good."
"Ah yes... the greater good. Tell me, Albus, how many people must die for your vision?"
"Enough. If you try to kill Harry Potter, you will be making a grave mistake."
"Oh? And why is that, pray tell?"
"I have done what I must to protect him from harm."
"Another pawn in your game, I see. It matters not what ward you placed over him, Albus. Even you cannot stop the killing curse."
"No. I cannot... but I can alter it."
"I thought you were leaving. And you best do so, before you anger me further."
With less than a whisper, Albus Dumbledore disappeared from Godric's Hollow, a place that he knew would soon become very famous. He waited in the Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts, pacing back and forth impatiently as the hourglass slowly spilled golden sand. Suddenly, the sand turned black and froze in place. Albus smiled slightly as the hourglass tipped itself over and began anew, the sand shifting back to gold. His spell had worked. Unfortunately, he was not a patient man. And all he had left to do now... was wait.
Harry Potter was four-years-old when it happened for the first time. Or at least... the first time he could remember. He was sitting in his cupboard under the stairs, as usual, and he was playing with what few toys he had. Most were little figurines, like army men or horse riders. But he had managed to get his hands on a small, toy truck. He wasn't sure how it got there... All he knew was that he saw Dudley playing with it and he wanted to play with it, too. Then, he heard and felt the footsteps of his Uncle Vernon. The whole staircase shook with his weight as he came stomping down like an elephant.
"POTTER! YOU LITTLE BASTARD THIEF!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.
Harry froze in fear. He didn't have time to hide the toy truck before his Uncle opened the cupboard door and yanked him out into the hall.
"I knew it! You stole our precious Dudley's favorite toy! And you used your filthy magic no less!" He shuddered, ripping the truck from Harry's grasp.
Harry could only flail helplessly as Vernon grabbed him by the neck, holding him up against the wall and crushing his windpipe with those meaty fists. Vernon's face was red with rage and was slowly turning purple as he grew more and more angry.
"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR FREAKINESS, BOY!" Vernon bellowed at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his mouth.
Harry kicked and struggled, feeling his lungs burning for oxygen as he gasped for breath. The vice grip on his neck, however, allowed no such reprieve. Slowly but surely, as Vernon turned purple, Harry turned blue and eventually stopped squirming in the large man's grip. When the boy was finally limp, Vernon released him and watched him fall to the ground with a sickening thud. He sighed heavily, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his head.
"PETUNIA!" He bellowed, leaving the limp Harry in the hall as he waddled back upstairs. "I found our precious Dudley's favorite toy!"
The golden sand in the hourglass faded to black, freezing in place. A moment passed before it turned itself over, black fading to gold as the sand began spilling again.
Harry Potter woke up with a sudden gasp, hyperventilating and sweating profusely. He fumbled around for a moment before he found the light and turned it on. He looked around the small cupboard, seeing those small figurines... but no toy truck. He didn't want it anymore. Not after that terrible dream... He swallowed several times, feeling his throat with his hands. It had seemed so real... But it had to be a dream. He was still alive, after all. He often had nightmares about Uncle Vernon beating him, but never had they gone as far as... death. This was Harry's first experience with that word. Or at least... the first time he could remember. Unfortunately, there would be many more to come.
