DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. Anythings you do not, belongs to me.

'Come on Lily! Push! PUSH!'' The Healer at St Mungo's urged.

Screams of pain tore through the small hospital room as Lily Potter gave birth to two twin boys at 11: 55 PM. Meanwhile, her husband James waited outside, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. From time to time, he'd dart a glance to the clock at the front reception before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. All he could think about were the new additions to his family. And also how the Saviour of the Light could be currently exiting his wife.

The prophecy echoed in his mind. Of course not all of it, just the first part. Albus said it would be dangerous to know the whole thing altogether and said not to think on it too much; but he did.

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...

Of course it didn't have to be one of James' and Lily's twins, the Saviour could be Neville who was born just a few hours ago. Both Frank and Alice had also faced the Dark Lord three times and got away with just surface wounds and their lives barely intact. However, Dumbledore wasn't too sure on who the Chosen One would be and so it could be either Neville or the twins. The matter was indefinite and drew Lily, James, Frank and Alice round the bend.

''One last push! And there we go!'' The nurse inside beamed at the exhausted red head and Lily smiled back weakly. ''They're absolutely gorgeous Ms Potter! Now why don't I go get your husband, I'm sure he's quite worried; I see no reason to keep him from you!'' The nurse had to yell slightly over the wails of the newborns but eventually, she just silencio'd them

The midwife bustled around the room but whilst she was gushing about her first delivery, she accidentally mixed up the times of which the twins were born. Nurse Duffy peered at the tag saying 11:56 PM then at the one saying 11:59 PM before gazing at the two boys in front of her. She figured the time didn't matter and stuck the wrong label on what she thought was the right baby then poked her head outside the door.

Suddenly, James burst into the room and sighed in obvious relief as he saw his wife resting on the bed with two identical cribs placed near her. Lily's eyes were closed but James knew she wasn't really asleep, just embracing the feeling of motherhood. He placed delicate kiss on her forehead and whispered in her ear, ''How are you love?''

''Just dandy thanks.'' Came the short, tired reply. James chuckled softly and moved over to the cots to give his wife some peace. He looked over at the twin boys and muttered to himself, ''I'm a father.'' A goofy smile stretched his face and a satisfied hum escaped his lips.

On the left was Michael Henry Potter he decided, with a sprinkling of red hair spread over head and was a healthy pink. James observed how his oldest son had Lily's flaming red hair but his warm, chocolate eyes. The shape of Michael's lips were also his and so was the wide nose and square jaw. On the right, a total contrast to his brother, was Harry James Potter.

The difference between the two startled James and he unconsciously took a step back.

Harry was nearly as pale as a ghost and already had a large tuft of raven back hair on his head. Despite still having baby fat, Harry's chin was obviously pointier with slightly more prominent cheekbones. His lips were like Lily's, pale pink and his nose straight and slightly turned up. What shocked James the most was Harry's eyes. They were green, of course like Lily's but whereas Lily's were emerald Harry's weren't. Both weren't even the same colour! One eye was a deep emerald with gold shards and the other was a light grey with darker grey shards but both were encircled by a deep black. It was unnatural.

James took a deep breath. He refused to judge his son by his appearance. He'd made enough mistakes by doing that. No, he'd love Harry no less than Michael.

"Welcome to the world my sons.'' He murmured softly.


Lily heaved a great sigh from where she was sleeping in her and James' bed, "Go check on them won't you?" she muttered tiredly, turning so she didn't see her husband's discontent frown.

''We do have a House Elf Lils.'' James mumbled, clearly annoyed.

''Yes James but you know it's Michael crying and you also know that Minky has no effect on him so get a move on.'' Came the hissed response and with one last huff, Lily pulled the duvet over her head so only a few strands of red hair peeking out were proof of her existence.

The overgrown Gryffindor rolled out of his bed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly before blinking the last dregs of sleep out of his eyes.

Slowly, he pushed open the door to the twins' room, being careful not to awake the slumbering Harry. Really, he didn't know why he bothered. If Harry could stay snoozing through Michael's racket then surely he wouldn't wake when hearing the creak of the door.

With that thought in mind, James opened the door a tad louder than he wanted to and could've wrung his own neck in frustration because he'd only managed to wake Harry. And whilst Michael unbearably howled and tossed and turned, an upset Harry was the worst because Harry would stay stock still and cry silently, staring with his freaky eyes. The fact that there was no sound from Harry was quite creepy and the ogling unnerved James. Lily told him her husband to stop being silly because Harry was only six months old but James just couldn't help it.

James sighed- he seemed to be doing alot of that lately- and began to prepare for what he knew would be a long night.


Albus Dumbledore had floo-ed into the Potter's fireplace and was met with the sight of two harried, young parents. Both were cradling one baby each and the wizened Headmaster had to smile at the homely picture they portrayed. It pained him to think that this family's bright future was undetermined because of how the defeat of Voldemort could rest on their shoulders but Dumbledore knew that sacrifices had to be made. It was for the greater good after all.

''Albus! Oh take a seat! Can I get you some tea?'' Lily exclaimed as she noticed her previous Headmaster exit the fireplace.

''No dear, I'm quite alright. But a seat would be appreciated, thank you. These old bones aren't what they used to be I'm afraid." Blue eyes twinkled merrily before they sobered, "Lily, James, you both know why I'm here don't you?"

The couple exchanged a fleeting look before sitting opposite Dumbledore, placing the twins -who had managed to calm down- on their laps.

''Of course." James smiled grimly, trying his best to stay positive.

''Well, Voldemort had already seized hold of the Ministry and it won't be long before he comes looking for you. You hold in your hands, the possibility of an end to the Dark Lord's reign and we all know He will take action. If I may, could you allow me to do a quick scan of the magical cores inside Michael and Harry? It won't take long or do the boys any harm.'' Dumbledore looked beseechingly at Lily and James Potter over his half moon spectacles, already knowing that the couple would agree.

Lily nodded, as did James and Michael was the first twin to be handed over for a scan.

Dumbledore sat the red head on the coffee table in front of him and pointed a wand at Michael's heart whilst his parents watched worriedly. The professor muttered a lengthy spell and assessed the results in front of him.

''Ahh. Michael it appears has a very big magical core, just about above average and strong as well. Hmm... Has he shown any sign of accidental magic yet?'' At James' negative answer he continued, ''Well you should be expecting an appearance soon. How old are the twins?''

''Eleven months.'' Lily replied.

''Good good. Young Michael's core is developing remarkably well and from what I can tell, it is bigger than Neville Longbottom's." James' chest puffed out proudly at the though of one of his sons exceeding the esteemed Professor's expectations and could barely wait to see how Harry was doing. Surely they must be similar.

Dumbledore handed Michael back to Lily and briefly marveled at the resemblance between mother and son. As Harry sat before him, he muttered the same spell and looked on eagerly at the results.

"Well this is certainly strange.'' Dumbledore faltered slightly and repeated the spell just to make sure he said it right. Lily and James looked on apprehensively.

''It appears,'' he said slowly '' That Harry's results are undetermined. See here? The bar which measures the magical core, its strength and growth doesn't stay still. It moves continuously.''

''What does this mean? Is Harry a squib?!" Lily gasped, shock marring her face and beside her, James sat with an identical face.

''No, no my dear child. Harry is indeed magical but from what I can tell, his core is unstable and therefore... must be weak.'' Dumbledore

spoke his thoughts solemnly aloud and sounded as if he was talking more to himself than to the people in front of him whilst the former Gryffindors visibly sighed in relief, thanking Merlin Harry wasn't a squib. They would've had to send him away if that were the case.

Peering suspiciously at the raven haired boy in front of him, Dumbledore mulled over Harry's appearance. His cheekbones boasted his paternal grandmother's Black lineage and his slightly pointed chin was evidence of his Malfoy Heritage. His nose was small and elfish, just like that of a Greengrass heir and small frame was that of a Nott. All in all, Dumbledore could see that Harry looked like a perfect little Pureblood baby though he was infact a Half-Blood. Strangely, whilst Michael looked like a mixture of James and Lily, Harry didn't look anything like a Potter. Dear Merlin, somehow, the child had managed to inherit all the features of the Dark Pureblood families and Dumbledore silently pleaded to the Gods that Harry didn't also inherit similar characteristics. Harry's eyes were also something he couldn't help but notice. They were odd. Two different colours and wasn't that rare; Dumbledore couldn't remember that ever happening in all the time he'd been alive and the irises weren't even ordinary colours but a sort of jade, emerald and silvery gray. Slytherin colours, he couldn't help but notice.

''What is Harry's behaviour like?'' Dumbledore asked, curiousity tainting his words. Lily hesitated slightly before replying.

''He's quiet. Not shy but he sort of like, well if there are guests round he wouldn't interact with them.'' Lily struggled as she tried to describe Harry and started to realize things she hadn't before. ''Michael would laugh and gurgle but Harry would just sit there; I hadn't noticed before but I can't ever remember him ever saying a word or making a sound. Other than crying that is.'' Lily bit her lip worriedly as James took over.

''He doesn't even make a sound when he cries. Tears just stream down his face and the way he looks at you is... its unnerving Albus. Sometimes if he has an accident, he doesn't cry just looks like he's in shock for a few seconds and his eyes widen. Harry looks at me in a way that I feel guilty and it bothers me."

Dumbledore mused over the newly discovered information and replied, "I'm afraid I am unsure of what you can do about Harry's behaviour. I can only hope that it just a phase and he'll grow out of his shell in the future." Lily and James nodded dejectedly.

''However, concerning Michael and his core which is quite impressive by the way, I do think he's the Chosen One." Dumbledore informed them solemnly, a grim smile set on his face like wax.

Lily's eyes widened significantly and suddenly there was a bright, wet sheen coating her vision. James ran a hand through his raven hair, tousling it even more before hanging his head. The couple felt their worlds dim. Voldemort would be after their son, there was no doubt about it and Michael would either defeat him or die in the process. Neither of the Potters were too pleased about the latter but knew that they couldn't waste time mopping. They were meaninglessly burning daylight when they could be creating wards, forging alliances and drawing up contracts. And Michael had to be protected. No matter the cost.


Squeals of laughter echoed through the the Potter cottage as little baby Michael was thrust into the air before being caught again by his father's strong arms. James then proceeded to blow a raspberry on his son's cheek and grinned as it elicited a delighted gurgle.

In the corner, sat watching father and son engage in a cozy bonding session, was Harry Potter. Green and Grey eyes watched blankly as the red head squirmed in his fathers embrace and giggled joyously. As yet again, Michael was pulled from the air by gravity, Harry briefly wondered what would happen to his brother if James were to get distracted and forget to catch him. He shook his head, that wasn't something appropriate he should be thinking about. The raven haired boy was only fourteen months.

Turning his attention back to his book, Harry thumbed through his mother's old and battered copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. Of course he was too young to read all the words properly but he could recognise a few. The pictures and designs of the book appealed to him the most; forging silver patterns traced the spine and edges of the book whilst semi precious stones were dotted around the title. The book itself had been laminated by Moroccan leather and was hand written in Gothic, spidery italics. The Fairytales had been handed down through the Potter lineage hence its worn state; no spells or protections were in place to preserve the book because it'd react dangerously with the enchanted pictures which produced a hologram when opened at the correct page.

Lily would always read this book to Harry specifically before bedtime because she knew he had a greater love for books than his brother- who would end up tearing the pages in boredom- and was delighted when Harry crawled towards their bookshelf and pulled out a random book and began to turn the pages. However now she didn't have the time, Lily was always too busy with taking care of the 'Chosen One'.

'She never has time for me.' thought Harry, sadness seeping into his heart at being rejected in favour of his twin. He still remembered the look on his face when his mother snapped at him when he asked for a bedtime story whilst she was attempting to tame a howling Michael. Of course she sighed and immediately apologized after, but Harry knew her heart wasn't in it.

''Dada! Dada!''

Harry was suddenly brought out from his thoughts by a high pitched voice. His neck snapped up to see a shocked but delighted James and a smiling red head.

''What did you say Michael? Say it again?'' James pleaded, a rather dazed but gleeful look on his eyes. It was just that moment where Lily also entered the room and barely took another step before her husband's yell attracted her attention.

''LILY! Lily, you''ll never guess what!'' James cried, grinned widely.

"What?'' she replied in a distracted tone.

"Go on Michael!" Hazel eyes glittered in anticipation as his son opened his mouth and slowly said...

''Dada."

Lily let out a shrill scream and ran towards her oldest son, scooping him up and kissing him repeatedly. She gushed at his progress and commented on how smart her son was before she was interrupted by James commenting -or rather boasting about- on how Michael had said 'Dada' and not 'Mama'.

Emerald eyes sparkled in fury and jealousy before they sought out Harry in his little corner, watching them all with no expression on his face.

''Harry, darling, say 'mama'. Come on, please? I'll read you a story...'' Lily kneeled down in front of her son, her gaze expectant yet demanding.

The ivory skinned child continued to stare blankly at his mother, not even blinking. His gaze was equally as unwavering. Harry knew what his mother wanted him to do, his brain was sharp like that but he didn't want to and so he remained silently. He knew that he could say it if he wanted because he had spoken before, albeit to the House Elf -who was his friend- but she hadn't reported anything and so he chose not to. He also knew that his mother was bribing him with something she knew he sorely wanted but Harry refused to gain anything if it wasn't sincere. He was being used and he didn't like it. So he clammed up.

Clenching her jaw in annoyance, Lily turned her back to Harry and promptly forgot about him. Choosing to instead, lavish attention upon her 'clever' child. Besides, who knew how long Michael had left in this world and Lily wanted to spend all free time with her son to make up for any time she was away from him because right now Michael's days were numbered.

"LILY! Lily its him! Take the twins and run! I'll hold him off.'' James' yell was deafened by the loud bang made by Voldemort blasting the gate off. The dark figure then glided towards the door, which met the same fate as the gate.

Emerald green eyes widened in fear, for her husband and her children as Lily roughly grabbed the twins, red hair flying around her like a halo. She deftly ran up the stairs, looking back once to see her husband swallow the potion in his pocket and then engage in a duel with the Dark Lord.

'Please let James be alright.' Her silent prayer rang ominously in her head as it was met with no response.

Kicking open the door to her sons' room, Lily marched forward and put Michael and Harry in their respective cots, kissing them both lightly on the forehead. She then downed the same potion as James had done before and thrust it away in a corner just as Voldemort stepped into the room.

Crude, poppy red eyes evaluated the scene briefly before they met emerald ones directly. Lily Potter stood in front of two cots, her arms spread, shielding her babies.

"Please not the twins! Have mercy!" Lily pleaded desperately, wetness coating her eyes.

"Stand aside silly girl." Voldemort snarled impatiently, gesturing with his wand.

"NO! Not the twins! Take me instead!"

"I'll give you a choice. The red head or the little raven?" A sardonic smile stretched across a lipless face as it silently laughed and jeered at the mudblood.

Lily faltered. And turned to look between the two. Michael was bawling his head off and shaking his cot whilst Harry looked at her accusingly, like he knew what she was thinking. A little voice whispered in her head, "Michael is more important, he's the Chosen One. And lets be honest, Harry isn't entirely normal, he's a mute as far as you can tell. Weird too. He might be autistic. He'll only hold Michael back..."

A cruel laugh brought Lily out of her thoughts. It chilled her bones and made her limbs shake uncontrollably. Her face turned deathly pale as Voldemort began to speak.

"What a sad little mudblood you are. You're actually considering it. From what I can tell, you favour the fat one don't you? No matter, both will meet their end.'' It was a rhetorical question. And Lily had never felt so guilty in her entire life.

'Harry, mummy's sorry.'

A flash of red light hit her and then all was black.

Voldemort kicked aside the stunned body and stalked towards the cribs. He looked at the two babies inside and while looking at the red head, he was reminded of why he had always hated children. But then the smaller, more frail looking child attracted his attention and Voldemort fund himself being absorbed by the grey and green eyes. He'd never seen anything like it. And the boy was so pale and his hair so dark; the boy would've been beautiful if he had the chance to grow up. And Voldemort did so like pretty things. What a shame.

The yew wand rose so it was level with the boy's eyes and then came the words Voldemort would soon regret for the rest of his life. Or death depending how you looked at it.

"Avada Kedavra!" He hissed manically and to his shock the green spell hit the youngest Potter and was slightly absorbed before being reflected back.

Pain. All consuming pain was all he felt as the Dark Lord felt his bones freeze and crumble. An excruciating burning flowed along his bloodstream and it felt as if a thousand sun kissed needles were being punctured through his skin. The scream that came from his mouth was deafening in the silence as his body finally disintegrated and vanished, leaving only black rags behind.

Then Harry gasped. He felt a burning sensation in his head and it felt like it was going to split his head in half. He hissed in pain as blood poured out of his fresh scar and dripped down his nose. Beside him, Michael whimpered as the spell's power had shaken the room and the twins' baby mobile was threatening to fall on top of them. Harry had rolled away just in time but Michael's constant fidgeting of the cot meant that the cord snapped and fell on top of him. Harry didn't really care and just as he heard the creak of the door he closed his eyes and welcomed Morpheus' embrace.


Aurors swarmed the Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow, led by Dumbledore and the Mistress of Magic, Millicent Bagnold. The news of the fire that consumed the Potter's cottage raised alarms and the neighbours had reported the incident immediately.

After the fire had been put out, Dumbledore was quick to enter the household and grimace at the carnage. He didn't hold much hope for the families lives but knew it was for The Greater Good.

So imagine his surprise when his ears caught the sound of a deep whining. Eyes widening, the Professor rushed towards the figure who appeared to be stuck under a block of wood. Relief seeped over him and Dumbledore was glad not to have lost one of his most prized warriors.

Soon, the Aurors had also reached his side and were beckoning the Healers.

Levitating himself up the stairs, Dumbledore sighed to himself. Who knew what awaited.

Sounds of a baby crying floated towards the wizened old man, but at the time Dumbledore hadn't noticed that it wasn't a child but indeed, the child's magic calling out to him. The Hogwarts Professor was Magic sensitive but his tendency to think he knew everything flawed his understanding. It was a delicate yet haunting sound and carried along with it a melodic hum. It was strange because Michael never cried like that. Dumbledore had never heard anyone cry like that. Despite its melancholy pleasantness, Dumbledore still cringed because the sound encompassed him in guilt.

Peering into all the rooms, Dumbledore found them all empty. But the sounds were coming nearer and nearer and so with no small

amount of trepidation, the twins' room was slowly opened. Suspiciously, the crying stopped.


''Michael Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived!" Dumbledore announced gleefully to the room full to the max with journalists writing furiously.

It was a joyous event when Dumbledore had found Lily Potter alive but unconscious amongst the rubble. Moving over to the cot provided evidence of a slumbering Harry and an injured Michael. The red head was bleeding just above his right eye and after a quick magical detection spell on the boy, Dumbledore found that his magical reserves were low. That must've meant that Michael was put through an incredible traumatizing experience and needed his magic to stop his health deteriorating. Another scan and then Voldemort's magical signature appeared.

Stalking over to Lily, Dumbledore shook her awake and didn't wait for her dazed emerald eyes to clear up before plunging straight into her memories. From what he now understood, Dumbledore was able to reach the conclusion that as a result of being protected by his mother, Michael was able to deflect the Killing Curse because of his Mother's love.

Of course Dumbledore didn't notice Harry's lightning bolt scar that had healed itself an lay covered under a mass of black hair. He also hadn't bothered checking Harry's aura and how it glowed. Neither did he notice the runes etched onto Harry's wrist. For that mistake, he'd pay for it with his life.

Arms were waving frantically in the air as the journalists clamoured for attention.

"How did Michael Potter survive You-Know-Who's killing curse?!" One yelled, his booming voice more audible above the rest.

Dumbledore looked to Lily Potter, who smiled wanly, still not properly revived after the incident prior to today.

"Michael was protected by his Mother's love. Lily Potter was prepared to sacrifice her life for her son and because of that, a bond was formed between mother and son which stopped the Darkness from penetrating Michael's heart."

For some who read that line after it was printed, Dumbledore's dotage was sickening. His tales of morale and Light brought up their breakfasts.

"How did Lily and James survive?!"

"Ahh, well my dear, have you heard of the potion Felix Felicis?" The headmaster arched a brow bemusedly and chuckled as mutterings broke out and spread like an army of ants. Whisperings of Liquid Luck soon reverberated throughout the room.

"Are you saying that a mere potion could defeat You-Know-Who?" A woman with bouncy blonde curls and red talon-like fingernails sneered.

"No," Dumbledore frowned at the newest addition to the Daily Prophet. Rita Skeeter had already begun making a name for herself and would no doubt twist his words the first chance she got. It was best to inform the masses of the truth before demands for Felix Felicitus shot through the roof. "It merely helped Lily and James escape with their lives child.'' Dumbledore said solemnly. "But barely. If the Healers hadn't arrived so quickly they mayn't have been so lucky."

''Is You-Know-Who gone for good then?" Demanded another pesky writer.

'To tell them the truth or not? Hmm.. They'd believe what they want anyway'

"It seems that way my boy, yes. All thanks to Michael Potter." Dumbledore smiled brightly as cheers threatened to knock down the pillars the Ministry's auditorium stood up on.


The Potters were celebrating Michael's fourth birthday. Vibrant streamers and singing balloons were hung across the rooms whilst self exploding party poppers burst the eardrums of guests flowing into the main room. Among it all were Lily, James and Michael Potter, the birthday boy himself, who were soaking up the attention like a sponge. Various guests paused to marvel and strike up conversation with the Boy-Who-Lived before being pushed aside in favour of a more influential politician or prosperous CEO; anyone who had more wealth and power than the present guest.

None of the people at the party were family friends of the Potters but rather people who Dumbledore thought that would get somewhere and take up the Potter name with them. The birthday party was more to flaunt off the Chosen One and magnify the Light side's win and by attracting the attention of the Media, it meant more publicity was gained, even after all this time. This all meant that the Potter family held the image of what Muggles called a Nuclear family. The ideal family. But the public were easy to manipulate as all it took was one popular opinion to sway the whole crowds and so when Harry Potter was being ignored, no one really noticed because there was Michael, more than willing to soak up the limelight for his little brother.

The reason why Harry was being excluded was because he didn't like the attention. When his mother had attempted to pull him into the picture for the Daily Prophet, Harry shook his head fervently and pulled away. Much preferring his peaceful books to the rambunctious crowds who were getting drunk and dancing wildly. Harry felt ashamed at having to witness such occasions because of the way the wizarding people would criticize muggle behaviour but then act exactly like them whilst proclaiming themselves better.

Lily had also snapped at him, her emerald eyes ablaze with anger and irritation. Ever since that night of the Dark Lord's defeat, Harry's mother could never properly look him in the eye. The little raven haired boy thought that it was because she felt embarrassed because she had picked Michael over Harry. The quiet child felt overwhelming sadness and self pity since that day because in his four year old state, he was still overlooked despite needing just as much care and attention as his brother. Of course the Potters didn't neglect him, but they still made him feel like he was less important and didn't matter as much as Michael who had everything tailored to his needs. He'd even gotten his own, new personal House Elf.

But Harry did find solace in Minky. He could talk to her whilst she was cooking or washing up and she'd smile at him gently and scoop him up and play with him until James walked in and demanded to know what she was doing. She'd also teach him how to read and write properly despite not being perfectly literate herself because neither of Harry's parents bothered to. Minky was the only being Harry ever opened his mouth for and so until today, his fourth birthday not that anyone except Minky noticed, everyone around him assumed he was a mute.

Yet again, Harry was stood in a corner watching his family laugh and open presents together. Michael already had several Broomsticks, practice wands, sweets, toys and books from people he didn't even know. And Harry had nothing. He blended into his corner so well that he looked like a shadow. His shock of black hair contrasted his ghostly pale skin so vividly but still, he managed to go unnoticed. At the time, he hadn't realized it was his magic swarming him because of his subconscious desire to be unseen but rather believed that he was being ignored. It made him bitter and jealous.

Suddenly, a bony arm yanked on his sleeve and Harry found himself being dragged away from his cozy hole. Still, he remained silent because he didn't want to alert anyone of his speech. Finally, it was when they reached a stuffy, damp hole behind the kitchen that Harry hissed at his only friend.

"Minky! What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?" He hissed, knowing that he shouldn't be speaking so rudely to his only source of comfort but he was still getting over his alarm at being dragged away from what he liked to call Harry's corner.

"Master mustn't be mad at Minky! Minky was only bringing Master someplace where there wasn't nasty wizards about! Minky is sorry. Minky is a bad House Elf!" She whined, pulling her ears downwards and heaving giant sobs. Harry raked a hand through his mess of hair and soothed the crazy Elf in a softer tone.

"Minky stop. We've spoken about this." Immediately, the Elf seized her distraught wailing. "Now what is it you want?"

Minky looked around fearfully, her already bulbous eyes widening further.

"Minky's be bringing Master his present." She whispered before bringing her hands towards Harry's face and placing each palm on both his temples.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked warily but was silenced by the House Elf.

She began whispering to herself and tracing patterns around his temples. Her round eyes were narrowed in concentration and beads of sweat formed on her wrinkly forehead. All the while, Harry was looking at her in wonderment. Minky had told him of the Olde Ancient Elven Magic and how Elfs could barely perform it. They had loss all their true magical powers as soon as the wizards had bound them and now only few had the magical prowess to perform simple, domestic chores. However there were many loopholes in Elf Magic, for instance any Elf could apparate in or out of Hogwarts. In this case, Harry knew what Minky was doing should be impossible but could only look at her gratefully as she endowed him with a blessing.

"Thank you Minky." Harry murmured softly, eyes shining at the thought of anyone caring for him enough to bestow him such an honored gift. When someone was blessed by Ancient Elf Magicke, it meant that the Elf would be bound in servitude to that person and the Wizard in question would have their appearance adjusted and their magic so finely tuned that it knew no bounds. As his skin soaked the Magic, Harry could see his skin become pearlier and felt his ears become slightly pointier. His eyes had a new, dark sheen to them and his posture was more refined. And he was only four years old.

"But if you don't mind me asking, why?" Harry didn't even understand his own question but he felt a perplexed and dizzy. His eyes narrowed as a tear leaked from the House Elf's eyes.

"Master's always being nice to Minky. Nicer than anyone be's to Minky ever in all of the Potter ancestors!" A great sob slipped past her lips as she thought of what she was going to say next and how it would break her poor Master's heart. "Minky wanted to show Master shes be sorry."

"Sorry for what exactly?" Harry didn't mean to sound so sharp but for some reason he a was beginning to dread her answer.

Minky was wringing her hands together and shuffling as she answered, " Minky was doing her chores sir, but I's be accidentally hearing Master and Mistress Potter's talking. And Minky found that theys be talking about Master Harry. Theys be saying that theys going to send you off! Because yous be a hindering to the Master Michael!" By now the poor Elf was in turmoil and looking devastated.

Jade and silver eyes glistened with disbelief and unshed tears. Harry knew that his parents forgot to look after him from time to tome but he never believed that they hated him this much. He wanted to ask Minky if she was lying but he knew the Elf would never dream of lying to him. She was the only friend he had and vice versa. If James was going to punish Minky, Harry would comfort her afterwards and keep her company whilst she finished the chores. If Harry was being punished, Minky would sneak him food and books whilst he was ordered to stay in his room under lock and key.

Echoes of laughter drifted towards Harry and his head began to swim. His back slid slowly down the wall until he was hunched over, head in hands and began to weep. Tears cascaded down his face as he welled in self-pity. A distant pop was detected by his ears as Minky left him with one sorry parting look before she went to serve the Master of Potter Cottage. He'd never felt so unloved. Not when he had his first bout of accidental magic and was mistaken to be performed by Michael, not when James roughly smacked him on the upside of his head (though he apologized profusely afterwards) , not even when his parents had lost him in Diagon Alley when he was only two and he was forced to wander the streets in the dark until an Auror found him and took him home.

Abruptly his eyes hardened. He knew he'd have to run away. They didn't love him anymore and he didn't love them either. He knew that if he left amongst the party bustle, he wouldn't be missed since it was only 2 o'clock. And so, with his four year old mind set, Harry pushed his way up the stairs and to his rooms to pack his belonging with one thought in his mind.

"This time tomorrow I'll be gone."