A/N: I've always been intrigued by the story of Harry's Godmother. Yes, I know JKR said he didn't have one, but, creative liberties, right?

This is just a prolouge to set up our lovely protagonist. Read and review!

(DISCLAIMER - There are so many questions I would ask JK Rowling if I met her, these characters and this world is not mine, but I sure wish I could be as talented as she was to do so. Question 1: Why a lightning scar? Any significance?)

The Godmother

Prolouge: Cutting at the Hips and the Heart

It was nearly a year since the War had ended. Harry was sitting in the grassy area behind the Burrow when a small, sealed letter fell gracefully into his lap.

He usually chucked aside pieces of mail unless he knew the sender, working through piles of fan mail every month or so. This letter, for whatever reason, caught his interest. He opened the seal and read. He read slowly at first, uninterested in the subject matter. However, as his mind began to process, he began to read quicker and quicker, his eyes darting from one line to the next.

Words, names, places – they all flew past him as he rapidly re-read the letter a second and third time. Instead of soaking in the information, he was narrowing on one phrase that kept ringing in his head. No matter how much he concentrated on the rest of letter, his eyes gravitated towards that one phrase:

Your Godmother


Overcome by what she was sure was heatstroke, nine-year-old Saraswati Bhamra lay patiently on her four poster bed, feet barely dangling over the edge, as she contemplated what would be worse – dying in a heap from the unbearable summer heat or attending her parents' dinner party that was commencing downstairs.

Heatstroke wasn't looking too bad at the moment.

Sara wasn't so much opposed to the hundreds of guests or the mountains of food that came with one of her parents' dinner parties; in fact, the food was perhaps the redeeming factor. She had snuck a peak into the kitchen the past few days and had nearly salivated at the aromas and sights she encountered as her mother and her nani, or her grandmother, instructed the cooking staff as they prepared a small feast – her mouth was salivating at just the thought of it. The worst part of her parents' dinner parties was the dress.

Sara hadn't had the heart to tell her mom when they were shopping six months ago for a new dress that the one her mom had liked the most dug into her sides a bit at the waist and were a bit tight around the arms (but not to the point of cutting off circulation). She simply smiled and nodded her head in agreement to her mom's compliments, hoping it could be shoved to the back of her closet until she had the right dimensions to wear it with pride. But then again, Sara hadn't counted on the joys of a full Christmas and Easter dinner as they visited friends on the holidays, which certainly didn't help the dress-fitting situation. She couldn't disappoint her mother though, so she twisted, shimmed and did all but a backbend to worm her way into a dress that was now even tighter than she had remembered before.

Looking in the mirror, all Sara could see was the fat that rested on what seemed like every part of her body – her cheeks, her forearms, her neck, her fingers, her waist, her things, and her calves – everything. She scrunched up her nose a bit, thinning the slits for her eyes, knowing that her mother would probably be appalled that Sara hadn't mentioned the 'ill-fitting' of the dress earlier that day when she had asked her to wear it that night. Backed into a corner by her timidity, Sara sighed and headed down the grand staircase.

It wasn't a castle, but Sara's house was definitely spacious. When she was little, more often she would lose her way to her own bedroom than find it on the first try. She knew it was a special event when her parents managed to make the house feel even half-way filled – which was tonight. Saraswati hardly ate in their grand dining room, but for her parents' dinner parties, it merited the occasion. It was a long, narrower room that came off one side of the kitchen, with a table to match its length and glass chandeliers. She could feel her mom's eyes rest heavily on her as she took her seat across from her mother and father and next to her younger sister, Rani, who was 7 years-old. Her younger brother, Prakash, who was only two, had gone to sleep hours before. She reached out to pick up her fork, prematurely, to hold something in her hand, but retracted her arm upon a stern glance from her mother. All she could do was sit idly and listen to her mother gossip with her good friends, Mrs. Patil and Mrs. Longbottom.

"So, just two more years for little Sara before Hogwarts, right?" Mrs. Longbottom asked Saraswati's mom, running her judgmental eyes down and up her over-packed frame. "Frank just loves it. Only his second year and already he doesn't want to come home for Christmas holidays. I have to pull teeth as it is with Algie."

"How is Frank adjusting without Algie in the same House and such?" Mrs. Patil inquired. Saraswati sighed heavily to cover up her stomach's loud growl. She looked hopefully to the door connecting the grand dining room to the kitchen, hoping to hone her witchcraft skill to make it magically open. She was unsuccessful.

"Oh, you know Frank! He was always quite loud and boisterous, never too afraid to assert his position. Sometimes he caused a ruckus in the neighborhood and such, but always maintained his friends. It was no surprise that he ended up in Gryffindor, though I would have hoped, of course, that he could have followed our line into Hufflepuff. He's quite brave, you know, always willing to stick up for others. But Algie still looks after him and whatnot, and Frank has settled in fine in Gryffindor." Mrs. Longbottom, tired but proud after her long-winded praise of her younger son, took a sip of her mead wine.

"I can't imagine Raj in another house but Ravenclaw. Everyone one in our family since we came to England has been placed in that house. I suppose we will see next year, but I have little doubts," Mrs. Patil said.

"I cannot see Saraswati in any other house, considering myself and Vikram both came from Ravenclaw. Perhaps not Slytherin, as she is not so quick-witted or cunning, simply book smart. I reckon Hufflepuff might be a suitable House – you see, she is always looking to others for guidance and advice. She would work well within a team…" Saraswati's mom continued to chatter to her friends as Saraswati sank lower into her seat. It was not unusual for her mother to take small jabs at Saraswati while she was in earshot. Saraswati had convinced herself that her mother considered it character building, as subtle hints to her first daughter's many imperfections. "…Definitely not Gryffindor, though. She gets scared at even the thought of a spider in her bathroom; she has to call Rani in to make sure it's gone. Bravery is not her suite."

"Well, less than two years, Jaya, until Sara has to deal with the spiders at Hogwarts instead of here – brave or not," Mrs. Patil, laughing disingenuously. Sara wished the food could come so she could tune out the next part of the conversation, which she knew was inevitably coming.

"And a busy two years it will be! We were hoping that Saraswati would lose her baby fat and lighten up by now, but I suppose she has a bit more time. Just look at her compared to Rani – Rani is so thin and her skin is so fine. It seems we'll require some outside effort. Vikram and I have been raiding the shelves at Mungo's, trying to find some slimming spell or potion. Can you believe that I bought that dress for Saraswati 6 months ago and it was loose-fitting? Now, she can barely squeeze into it. Rani, on the other hand, got that beautiful red dress from my mother when she came from India just…"

Saraswati lost interest in the conversation. She realized it was almost inevitable to avoid the comparison when they sat next to one another. She, however, couldn't stand to listen to her mother rehash her "baby-fat" problem and how Rani, her younger sister, was not only more beautiful and 'ideal', but more witty and brave. Rani would be a Ravenclaw, no doubt in her mother's or her father's mind. Saraswati felt like sinking in her seat, but knew that her mother would snap at her to 'sit-up straight' and to 'act like the oldest'.

Food came to comfort Saraswati. Her mother, despite their large household, detested house elves, and had Sara's grandmother aid in bringing out the food. Then, Sara began to say the various dishes she wanted, and they would pick themselves up and zoom over to her plate and provide a small portion before flying off to the next guest who wanted the dish. She rattled off the first 10 dishes she saw, encouraged hefty portions, and shoveled the food into her mouth.

"It's so hard to find clothes in her size these days – we search and search for something that will even fit around her waist, forget about being fashionable…" Chomp, chomp, chomp.

"Rani gets so many compliments on her beautiful complexion – if only Sara would stay out of the sun like her…" Munch….munch….munch.

"Sara seems to have her head in the books. She can read anything, but I'm afraid one day she'll just walk right into a Death Eater from having her head so far off into nothing. No common sense, I'm afraid. Rani, on the other hand…."

Sara licked her now wet and salty lips, hoping her mother wouldn't notice her tear-stricken face as she helped herself to yet another piece of chocolate cake.