PROLOGUE

Hi everyone! This is my first multi-chapter story. Most chapters (except for the first few) will be written from Tonks POV, but if that changes, I'll let you know. Also, the first couple of chapters are kind of downers, but trust me, I know exactly how I want this story to end, and I hope you will like it. Anyway, thanks for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated!

Remus

As I pulled out a seat from the kitchen table, preparing myself to delve into the wondrous pages of one of my favorite books, The Flying Squad, I could hear the faint tapping of an owl's beak on the fogged window pane to my left. Sighing, I rose from my chair and let the ruffled looking bird inside. The owl looked at me impatiently and threw a tattered newspaper onto the table. It stuck its leg out, and I tossed a Sickle into the tiny pouch. The bird hastily flew back out the window and into the chilly morning air.

I locked the window with a click and strode back over to my seat at the table, fully prepared to thrust my mind into the wonderful world created by the brilliant imagination of Edgar Wallace, but a picture on the front cover of the Prophet caught my eye. There was a house, only it was utterly destroyed. The roof was blown completely off, and half of the second floor had fallen onto the first. Part of the side of the house was missing, revealing a glimpse of a child's room. Several people, probably Aurors, were gathered around the scene and were bustling around busily.

I felt like I knew this house. I'd been here before, I was sure of it. My eyes traced the outlines of the obliterated home as though I was trying to memorize every detail. Moving my gaze to the top of the paper, I read the headline, "Dark Lord Defeated!". Underneath, in slightly smaller writing was, "Harry Potter, Age 1, Has Destroyed the Dark Lord for Good. Story continued on page 9".

I froze, and my heart sank somewhere into my stomach. I flipped the pages eagerly until I saw the curvy "9" scrawled at the top of the page. My trembling hands discarded the rest of the paper, and I proceeded to read the article.

Last night, October 31, Harry Potter, a mere toddler residing in the little town of Godric's Hollow, defeated the Dark Lord. According to the Aurors that were found on the scene this morning, the Dark Lord invaded the Potters' home last night, where he murdered the boy's parents, James and Lily Potter. The motives for this attack are unknown; however—

I couldn't bring myself to read any further into the article; the tears that had begun forming in my eyes caused the words on the pages to blur into a hazy fuzz. I put the paper down onto the table and felt my breath catch in my throat. A strained sob echoed from my chest as I put my head on my arms and rested it on the table.

The phrase from the paper kept replaying in my mind, as though taunting me with its sad reality. He murdered the boy's parents, James and Lily Potter…murdered James and Lily…. I didn't want to believe it was true. James, the man that had trained himself to be an Animagus in order to comfort me during the full moon, and Lily, kind, compassionate Lily, couldn't be dead. They had defied Voldemort three times. He couldn't have gotten to them.

I thought of the time in sixth year when James charmed the Slytherins' robes into scarlet and gold sequined jackets and turned their common room into a Gryffindor's dream. McGonagall had given him a week's detentions for that stunt. He couldn't be gone. I could still imagine his laughing and happy eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses, and the untidy sight of his messy black hair refused to leave my mind. I couldn't get the carefree and joking teenager James was out of my head. I just couldn't picture him dead. It's not true, I told myself.

But the voice of reason in the back of my head told me it was true. James and Lily were gone, and they weren't coming back.

After several minutes, I gathered my composure enough to finish the story. I read how the use of Voldemort's name was now forbidden because the Ministry feared that it would cause him to come back. I nearly laughed at that logic; as if fearing his name would make the situation any better. I found out that Sirius had killed not only our best friend, Peter, but also thirteen innocent Muggles and was now in Azkaban. I wanted to march into Azkaban and kill that *rhymes with mastered*. He was James' and Lily's Secret Keeper, he had to have been; he was James' best friend. He had betrayed them and killed Peter.

I didn't want to believe it; I wanted to wake up in my bed and have this all be some crazy nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare. My friends, the ones who kept me going despite my condition, were now either dead or traitors. I was alone.

A feeling of complete emptiness gripped at my insides, and I let a lone tear leak from my eyes. I sat frozen in my chair, unwilling to move. The sun slowly began to rise and enter the little kitchen through the fogged glass of the window.

Suddenly, a crash came from the next room causing me to nearly leap from my chair. I clutched my wand tightly and slowly rose from the table. I could hear the rustling of someone just outside the kitchen. I took one hesitant step forward. My heart rate increased, and my breathing became ragged and shallow. I felt all warmth leave my body as I neared the entrance to the next room. I raised my wand and prepared myself to meet the intruder.

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