Summer 1997
Voldemort was in a nursery. He was waiting and impatient for someone. Then the young, handsome man appeared in the doorway. He had obviously run up the stairs and was now out of breath, but terrified for the two others that were present. Voldemort turned around with glee. He aimed his wand and recited words to make the man grow still, but he was not dead. The little girl with black ringlets broke free of her mother and rushed to her father. The woman watched her from the corner of her eye.
"Will you beg for your life, Aenea?" asked Voldemort.
"No, I won't," said Aenea. She stood tall as she faced him.
"I will not beg for my life, but I will ask that you spare me for my son's sake," said Aenea, clutching her swollen belly.
"And let another Gryffindor be born?" asked Voldemort, "Never."
Harry felt twisted happiness from Voldemort.
"I will kill all of your kind. You cannot hide from me" he said calmly before adding "Crucio!" She screamed in agony. Tears flowed from her grey eyes and her dirty blond curls shook. Voldemort started to laugh, a cruel hissing sound. He was enjoying this. The young woman struggled to her feet, not wanting to give him that kind of satisfaction. .
"No, Tom, no!" she screamed.
"How dare you use that name to address me!" he bellowed.
"Tha gaol agam ort ma mirk hund, ma lassie," said Aenea in Scottish.
"You are not only her youngest, but you are also the weakest heir," said Voldemort, gleefully, "Say hello to your dad for me…Avada Kedavra!"
"Mommy!" screamed the little girl as green smoke filled the air. The girl, mad on her face, went right over to Voldemort.
"You're a bad, bad man. You kill people for fun," said the girl.
"Aww, are you having a bad birthday? Abidalia is too smart for her age and too smart for her own good. A celebrity when she was born and written down in the book, no doubt," said the man. He fingered his wand.
"What can a mere child do that a parent couldn't?" he asked, snickering. The child's face turned sterner than her years. She wore an expression that seemed so familiar, but Harry couldn't place it.
"When you die, I'll be watching," said Abby, staring coldly with blue eyes followed by words that sounded like childish gibberish. Voldemort hissed a laugh. "Silly girl, I'll never die," said Voldemort and he softly added," Avada Kedavra." She never heard her father's anguished cries.
The sixteen-year-old boy tossed and turned, trying as if to fight the dream away, but it twisted into something completely different. Harry's perspective became extremely limited as though he were very small when he caught sight of his hands. He was a baby! He glanced at his surroundings. He didn't recognise it, but it felt very safe. He noticed another baby walking toward him and a toddler running around. The baby was obviously older because she walked with a natural grace. She was tall with red curls that were mildly contained by purple bows and green eyes. Harry's eyes were emerald green, but hers were more of a peridot. The other girl was from the other part of the dream, dressed again in a fancy birthday dress.
"Dogs and cats, dogs and cats! So many people wearing different hats! Dogs and cats!" she chanted.
"Abby, settle down," said a red-haired lady coming toward him, "There's my birthday boy." She placed a birthday hat on his head. Some more adults came in and started to sing, but before Harry could recognise them, the picture faded. Hedwig had been pecking at his hair, trying to wake him up. He rubbed this part and his scar which always hurt. Then he tried to remember what was in the dream, but only the woman with the grey eyes stood out.
If only there were some way to contact the order faster than Hedwig, thought Harry. Unfortunately, he didn't have a chimney for floo powder or a portrait to ask. Hedwig would have to do. He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. The clock said that it was 3:13 AM, but he didn't care. Voldemort had killed two innocents tonight or had he? The other part of the dream happened long ago. Either way, Dumbledore needed to be informed. As soon as he told everything, he gave the letter to Hedwig, his owl, and she flew off to deliver it. Harry's mother died, protecting him. Her blood formed a protective barrier from harm. For this reason, Harry was forced to live with his aunt Petunia and her family, The Dursleys. They were horrible people who had maintained for almost ten years the lie that was Harry's life. Harry's parents' deaths and his scar were not caused by a car accident. Voldemort had been responsible. Harry was not normal despite the Dursley's attempts. He was a wizard.
