Authors Note: This is my first experience in writing fanfiction stories, please forgive me if they are unprofessional/bad. As you may have noticed, the prologue is rather short, but I promise that there is a) more to come and b) in larger quantity. Both positive and negative reviews are absolutely welcome, and I would really appreciate it if to took a few moments to at least give your opinion on the stories (ex. "This is rubbish!" or "I kind of liked it.") Also, If you spot any spelling/grammar errors, please let me know so that I can fix them and avoid further humiliation. Thanks for your patience.

donttrustanyoneover25

The Dumbledore family had always been subject to local gossip, and understandably so, considering their utmost strangeness. Not once in the short time she had lived there had Kendra Dumbledore accepted Mrs Downreys invitation to tea, nor to Miss Puffkins weekly wizarding chess party, although they claim to this day that they attempted to invite her on multiple occasions. The fact that her husband Percival had been imprisoned for an attack on a group of young muggle boys did not help increase her popularity among the local women much, either. And better still, rumors circulated about their secret daughter, Ariana, who had been unfortunatley born a Squib into a family of Muggle-haters.

Those who believed that at the death of Kendra the rumors would end were deceived. If anything, the death of both parents in the family added fuel to the nasty gossip they had been victims of for years.

As the sun rised upon Godricks Hollow, Albus Dumbledore, the eldest of the three Dumbledore children, sat immobily on his half of the bed that he shared with his brother, Aberforth. Although his face betrayed no signs of what he was thinking, the inside of him was a hurricane of raw emotion. Careful not to wake his fast asleep brother, he got up off the bed and walked up to the window. The still dormant town bore no signs of any new, or potentially exciting activity. This wasn't surprising. Hardly anything happened in Godricks Hollow.

The injustice of it all, thought Albus. He had been awake for hours, pondering the many ways the recent turn of events had inconvenienced him. The Grand tour, the thing that had for months made his skin tingle with excitement, the thing he had looked forward to for years, had been canceled due to the sudden death of his mother. Elphias Dodge had taken the news in stride- he had, of course, been disappointed, but he wouldn't dream of voicing this in fear of further saddening his dear friend. He set out on the journey the two had planned alone, leaving Albus alone with an ill sister and a troubled brother. Albus missed Elphias already; it felt like months since he'd had a conversation about something other than milking goats. He sighed. He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. His family, or what was left of it, needed him.

The peaceful calm of the village was suddenly disturbed by a loud crack. Through the yellowing glass of his bedroom window, Albus barely made out a dark figure standing before his long time neighbor and trusted friend, Bathilda Bagshots, house. The person appeared to knock twice, wait a bit, and then knock again. Shortly after, the wrinkled face of the famed historian appeared at the door. She hastily ushered the cloaked person in. At the time, Albus thought little of the whole occurrence. Who could blame him? Humans, after all, hardly ever suspect life-altering situations in the making.