October 31st, 1981.
Lord Voldemort stood in front of the Potter house, already feeling his victory. Nobody was home except for the Potter twins and a Muggle babysitter. James and Lily Potter were at an Order of the Phoenix meeting. The Pettigrew boy had turned out be very useful.
A flick of his wand and the front door opened for him. A startled Muggle woman was there, staring open mouthed at the horrendous creature that had just entered. A green flash flew at her torso and she was flung behind the couch, her startled brown eyes still open and gazing emptily at him. Voldemort went upstairs, following the sound of a crying baby.
He stepped into a room painted warmly in red and gold colours. A mahogany crib held two black haired infants. One was pale with hazel eyes and the other was tan with emerald green eyes. Voldemort smirked at the toddlers. It didn't matter which one he picked first, both Harry and Lance Potter would die tonight.
"Avada Kedavra."
The lethal spell flew at the emerald green eyed boy. But just as the spell reached him, the tiny one year old boy absorbed the spell. Voldemort only had time for his eyes to widen in surprise before the spell was shot back at him. His shout of pain mingled with the cries of Harry Potter, echoing throughout the empty house. And as a lightning shaped cut was carved into young Harry's forehead, a cut in the shape of a circle was bleeding on Lance Potter's forehead.
November 3rd, 1981.
"Sirius Orion Black has been condemned to Azkaban for life for being in league with Lord Voldemort, betraying James and Lily Potter, which resulted in the murder of a Muggle by the name of Cassidy Pierce, age 49, and the mass murder of twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew," the Minister of Magic looked up from the piece of paper he had been reading off of. With a single nod of his head, two Dementors floated into the room before escorting a yelling Sirius Black out of the room and to Azkaban.
In the crowd of witches and wizards, James and Lily Potter held Lance as they watched their best friend get dragged off, barely even able to believe that he had betrayed them.
After returning home three nights ago to house with a dead babysitter and two crying children, they had quickly called Dumbledore. Dumbledore, upon studying the scene for various minutes, drew the conclusion that Voldemort had come to kill the twins but that Lance had stopped him.
It had been obvious because of the circle shaped cut on his forehead, which meant life. Lance was the Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore had uneasily studied the lighting shaped scar on Harry's forehead. It was a sign of darkness, and he told James and Lily to make sure to keep an eye on Harry. It would not be good for him to join forces with Voldemort.
Not far from where the three Potters sat, was a beautiful chocolate haired woman. She was holding a sleeping one year old girl in her arms, barely able to see her husband through her tears. But she didn't brush away the tears. Julia Black just let the tears fall as she held her daughter, Arianne, as tightly as she could. But not even her daughter could keep Julia Black from falling down into the deep hole of depression; the black hole that she only escaped five years later when she took her own life, condemning Arianne to a life growing up in a Muggle orphanage.
May 12th, 1987
A seven year old Draco Malfoy stumbled through the large halls of Malfoy Manor. A purple bruise decorated the pale skin around one of his blue gray eyes. He peeked into the living room, making sure his father wasn't there. But as always, his father would be in his study, working and drinking firewhisky until he forgot the name of his own son.
Draco dashed into the room and went up to his mother, who was sitting in a high backed chair reading a book. He was still young enough to climb into his mother's lap and wrap her arms around him, to make him feel safe. Narcissa Malfoy smiled sadly at her son before tracing the bruise on his face. Draco flinched slightly when she kissed the shiner tenderly. She pushed her son's face into the crook of her shoulder as she hugged him tightly, not caring if it hurt her own bruises.
They could hear a crash and drunken staggering as Lucius made his way towards the living room. Narcissa shot up, took Draco and hid him under the coffee table.
"Don't speak," she told him and he nodded meekly before burrowing under the table. From there he was able to see as Narcissa took a proud stance in front of his father. Tonight, Lucius would take out his anger on his wife.
February 17th, 1989
"C'mon daddy, let's go home," whispered Jill Lovegood in a futile attempt to get her father to calm down. But he wouldn't listen. They were in the middle of Diagon Alley, a crowd forming around Xenophilius Lovegood. Jill hugged her eight year old sister, Luna, to her. Xenophilius was yelling about mythical creatures, begging people to believe him and spit flying from his mouth.
It broke Jill's heart to see her father like this. Her mother had died barely three weeks ago but it was obvious that Xenophilius's frail mind had broken because of his beloved wife's death. It wasn't long after that that two Ministry officials came to take Xenphilius away. The crowd dispersed as Jill and Luna surged to their struggling father.
"Wait! Where are you taking him?" yelled Jill, catching the attention of the Ministry officials. Jill made sure she was gripping Luna's hand tightly. "He's our dad!"
The Ministry officials glanced at each other before nodding.
"Take my hand please and come with us," said one of them kindly. Jill took his hand and they Apparated away.
Two days later, Xenophilius was locked up at St Mungo's mental ward and Jill and Luna were sent to their mother's brother, Lucius Malfoy, who would be their new guardian.