Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and all characters (except OC's) belong to the talent J.K. Rowling.
A/N: For the purpose of this fanfiction, please pretend that Harry Potter and the Cursed Child does not exist.
Prologue:
" ... Please. It is all I ask of you."
The woman trembled as she slumped to her knees. Her head was bowed, a pair of slender white hands held together, under shivering lips, as if in prayer. A great burden seemingly weighed upon the frail shoulders, and it seemed to be only with great struggle that she was able to beseech the wizard. The tears splattered upon the dirt floor, water gliding down her sharp cheekbones, mingling with the sweat and grime already encrusted there.
Finally, with exertion, she stared up at the man with the half-moon spectacles - the man named Albus Dumbledore.
"He's coming," she said in a faint whisper. "He's coming." Her voice grew louder. She shuddered, like a thought too horrible to dwell on had crossed her mind. "Please. I beg you." Letting out a pained breath, the woman shut her lids for a brief moment.
Unable to sob no more, grim resolve gripped her. Her eyes wandered restlessly, until they fell and focused upon the tiny baby with the dark wisps of hair that lay in ignorant bliss on a tattered pram nearby.
"He senses her power." She shifted her gaze back to Dumbledore. "He wants her, now more than he's ever wanted anything."
"Is she?"
The glistening silver gathered in the corner of her eyes again. She nodded once. Bitterly. Forlornly. Even the small movement radiated out her guilt. It was the ceaseless, encumbering guilt of a mother who believed herself to have failed her child.
"It happened. The transfer's complete. She's been marked"
"Then everything we feared has come to pass."
"Now you see. Don't you? You must!" A frantic, almost mad glint took over her eyes. "You know why you have to protect her. It's imperative."
Dumbledore stepped away, moving towards the infant lying restlessly in the pram. As he peered over the tiny girl, molten gold eyes bore back at him. Even at only a year old, there seemed to be an intelligence, a mischief beyond her years hidden in those eyes. He could almost feel the magic rolling off her in soft undulating waves. But there was a darker hint to the purity of the child. He knew that the shadow was her father's mark.
Suddenly, a hand reached out. Tiny baby fingers latched onto his finger. He watched, in quiet wonder, as the cut on his hand slowly healed and closed over. The girl looked back at him, a gurgling laugh ringing in the air.
"It is too soon, Alyssia," he said, turning to the woman. "I know you wish to protect her, as any mother would, but you need to go back. The process is not yet complete. To finish it, is the only way she will ever be safe. The only way we will stand a chance at destroying him. The only way that he may ever recognise the error of his ways."
Alyssia grimaced. She had known that those words were coming. Of course, she had to do her duty. Of course, she had to let Daliah suffer first. Suffer so that when the storm had all but passed, she could have a chance at happiness, at a normal life.
There was no other way.
"I'm not afraid," she said suddenly. "Of death, I mean. You should know that. I welcome it. To be away. Away from all the … memories. The pain. The betrayal." A thousand years of despair filled her eyes.
"I would have died months ago, if not for her," she gestured towards the baby. "It is only for her that I seek you tonight. Just … just. Promise me. I want nothing else. I need nothing else. Promise me that when … when it's over. When it has been done. That you'll care for her. Make sure she's safe. Make sure she's healthy. Make sure she breathes until the time comes when she will fulfil her destiny."
Albus thought back to the child. Even as a baby, he could tell that she would grow up beautiful, just like her parents. And even in that split second when the blue eyes had met the gold, he had felt it. A stirring inside him. He knew that he should have felt uneasy at the black magic that was imprinted on such an innocent soul, but the eyes that had glanced back had been pure, as if the fire that lingered in the depths had melted away the darkness of her father's stain.
Dumbledore's eyes met the woman's. They were the same shade of gold as the child's - although, whilst hers were steeled and dull from years of suffering, the youngster's had been radiating joy and mischief.
"She's powerful," he said.
"I know," the woman gave a proud smile in the direction of the pram. It lit up her face; showing a window, a small remnant to the beauty she had once retained. "She and Harry are our last hopes." She swallowed. "They'll be good together. A force to be reckoned with."
Her eyes sought his once again. "Will you do it, Albus? Will you accept a mother's final plea for her daughter?"
There was a tense, scrutinising silence. Broken - when he nodded his head.
She let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you." Rising, she gently picked up the infant and placed her in her arms with the most tender touch.
"I have to go," she said turning to leave. But at the last minute, her steps faltered, as though something prevented her from moving.
She glanced back. "She will hate me. Hate her parents when she knows." She sighed, looking down. "But what can I do? How can I make her understand?"
A frustration and hopelessness took over her. But then, her expression cleared up, a lightbulb turning on in that sharp mind. "Of course. How could I not have thought of this earlier?" She placed the wand to her temple and drew out a silvery strand, placing it lightly into a bottle that she delved out of her robe pocket. "Give her this, when she's old enough." With one hand held on the back of her neck, she unclasped a necklace, a glistening pendant hung off the chain. "My necklace, as well."
As she disapperated with the child, still holding the bottle of memories in one hand and the gold necklace in the other, Albus's heart contracted at the sight of her resolute expression. There was no sign of fear, no sign of regret, despite the pain and torture she was about to endure. It seemed that her last wish, had truly been for the safety of her daughter.
He wondered at what was to come in the future. Wondered at what would happen to the golden-eyed girl, with the selfless mother and the ruined father, who seemed still untouched by the evil that been unwillingly attached to her.