Author's Note: I had this idea a while back, but couldn't really think of a way to act on it until now. =/ I know that its not the best gramatically; I'm in search for a Beta at the moment, so if you're a Beta and you wanna help out drop me a line. ^^
Note: This will turn into a romance story. =/ No it will not be between Harry and Shelby. That would be wrong. You'll just have to hang around to see what happens. ;3 To clear things up; Johnathan is the son that died, Louis is the husband.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to a Mrs. Rowling, who is far more rich and famous than I will probably ever be.
Chapter One
The Boy Who Lived
Silence consumed the night. Darkness was its companion in many ways, pierced only by moonlight, when it wasn't engulfed in whisps of cloud, and the rare porch light or two. There were no stars, only the semi-blackness that went with a brewing storm late in the evening.
The trick-or-treaters had long since retired, leaving only older couples that sat on their porches with overflowing bowls of candy, not realizing that no more children would visit them tonight, and a solitary figure that flickered in and out of veiw with the ever dimishing light.
Shelby Starr was quiet as she stumbled along, eyes downcast in what was obviously sadness. Her shoulders were hunched, although that could be alotted to the bitter cold that blew through the neighborhood this late in the year. Her tearstained cheeks were blotched red, whether from woe or weather unclear.
A light rain began to fall, and she pulled the black jacket that just barely did its job in its already damp state around her form more securely.
The greif of losing ones child was always trying; it had been months now, really, since the accident. It was still painful, though, especially on days such as this, when youth played such a prominent part in the activities.
She felt more than heard it when it happened; a low rumble that shook the very foundations of the earth, it seemed, filling the air of Godric's Hollow with a crackling electricty. Her eyes widened in shock, and she looked around to see what had cause such a disturbance in such a quiet neighborhood.
Shelby had never seen the house there before; what she had always thought of as an empty lot now held a demolished wreck. Windows were shattered inward, as if it had imploded in on itself. The roof was quickly collapsing, and siding was falling off. As she watched, the door, already hanging low on its hinges, clattered to the floor.
It was as though a hurricane had swept through, hitting only this house before it dissapeared completely. Shelby stepped closer, hessitant to enter but curioius as to why this house was suddenly here; was so suddenly collapsing to the ground, weaker with each passing second.
A baby's crying woke her from her reverie, and she glanced around to see where it was coming from. Finding no children out on the street, she looked forward once more. It seemed that it... it was coming from the house?
Her breath caught as she siddled uneasily up to the door, glancing in at the wreck that must have once been a living room.
Today's paper was on the table, along with a still warm cup of hot chocolate that steamed in the sudden cold. The lights fluttered, unsure whether to continue lighting such a wretched scene or to give up completely. The latter seemed a better choice, and they sputtered once before dying all together.
Shelby felt her way through the wreckage, walking slowly so as not to step on fallen boards from the roof or shattered glass from the many pictures that had once adorned the walls. Visibility was sparse, and thereby it did not occur to her that the pictures themselves were moving...
She focused souly on finding the child that, as more time passed, was screaming louder and louder.
Up the stairs, which were creaking and grumbling as though just waiting for an excuse to crumble, and down the destroyed hallway to what appeared to have once been a nursery.
Now, however, was a different story. Stuffed animals and toys were torn appart on the floor, stuffing and plastic strewn everywhere with the force of whatever had struck this place. The drywall on the wall was cracking, falling to pieces just as everything else seemed to be doing. Everything had a fine layer of dust on top of it, giving it an old, abbandoned feeling.
And in the middle of it all there was an infant, no more than a year old at most, clutching at the bars of a once-white-and-blue crib, the paint having been stripped off of it.
He had a stock of short, black, unruley hair, coupled with the most beautiful emerald eyes that Shelby had ever seen. Eyes that just pleaded for someone to hold him, to save him from this horrible disaster. In one hand he held tightly onto a ragged looking teddy bear, the only surviving toy in the room.
And on his forehead, a lightening bolt shaped scar. It didn't look fresh; quite the oppisite, actually. It looked as though it had been there for quite some time, already healed over and everything.
As soon as the child saw her, he stopped crying. Those large pools of green stared at her curiously, as if gauging her every move. She stepped over the carnage on the floor to stand next to the crib, reaching in and gently hoisting him into her arms.
He garbled a laugh, grinning and latching a hand onto her brown curls. Shelby smiled at him, holding him closer and glancing around. He offered her the battere bear, and she took it, makings sure to hold onto it so that it wouldn't be didn't appear to be anyone else there, at least not that she had seen. She shook her head and clutched the child to her, taking only a moment to decide that he couldn't stay here and wait for someone else to come find him.
With that, she turned her back on the nursery and started once more down the hallway towards the stairs.
She never saw the lifeless body of James Potter, slumped in a part of the hallway just dark enough to overlook. Not once did her eyes fall upon Lily, though surely they would have had she walked around to the other side of the childs bed...
But she had eyes only for the infant she held in her arms, and as they stepped out into the cool night air, she swaddled him in her jacket and set out towards home, just a few blocks over.
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Shelby smiled fondly down at the baby as he curled his tiny fist around her finger, drawing it close and gurgling happily. Those gorgeous emerald eyes twinkled as she set him down on the couch, casting her eyes around for a sign of her husband, Louis. Must have already gone to bed. She thought to herself, handing the teddy back to the infant. He latched onto it with a giggle, hugging it close to his small body.
Shelby wandered over to the closet, hand resting on the doorknob with a sad smile before opening it to search for Johnathan's old crib. She found it at the very back, tucked behind coats that were long forgotten and old gifts from her mother-in-law that hadn't exactly been priority in the move.
Finally having managed to work it out of the corner it was trapped in, she set it up right there in the living room. She could always move it later, she figured, and there was no point in going up to bed tonight and waking Louis. It took around half an hour to put together and find enough blankets and such to make it comfortable enough for the child, and by the time that it was finished he had already started to nod off on the couch. She picked him up ever so carefully and lay him down in the crib, settling the tattered bear next to him.
Staring down at him, watching him nod off, Shelby remembered all the times that this same instance had happened with her own son. How she would settle him down enough to get him to sleep, and then tell him a story as he began to drift into the comforting black that was sleep...
Choosing to amuse her whims just this once, she kneeled beside the little boy's bed and peered in at him, starting to weave a quiet tale of magic and princesses and brave knights. When the story was finished, the knight riding off into the sunset, she sighed wistfully.
"Wouldn't it be great, if there were such things as magic?" Shelby asked to no one in particular, staring off into space with the air of someone suffering from severe nostalgia, unaware that at that moment a great flying motercycle was growling its way across the sky to bring the news to the wizarding world;
James and Lily Potter were dead, and, to all knowledge save that of a muggle across town from the incident, so was Harry.
A/N: Reveiws are lovely. x3 Good or bad - you can't improve if you don't know you need to, after all.