Prologue

October 31, 1981

The Potter family of Godric's Hollow were by most standards completely and utterly normal. Mr. Potter was a detective who one day hoped to open his own private investigation office while Mrs. Potter was currently occupied by her role as mother to their year-old son Harry. It was Mrs. Potter's wish to resume her schooling at the local university starting in the spring. Harry Potter was a cheerful baby whose greatest source of amusement was pulling the tail of the Potter's large tabby cat.

On Saturday morning, the Potters slept in. James made pancakes while Lily fed Harry, covered head to toe in mashed peas. They took a walk around the neighborhood admiring the costumed children and harried parents they passed. Harry sucked on the felt leaf atop his pumpkin costume while his parents pretended to duel with their "wands", the sturdy twigs they had picked up off the ground. Lily laughed, a sweet melodic thrill, as the wind ran away with James' star strewn hat.

The afternoon was uneventful until the phone rang. James spoke very little, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper as he listened to the speaker on the other end. He dug out the box from the top shelf of the closet, the one that hadn't been opened in a month. He was finally starting to see the missing pieces.

The package was thin enough to slide under the door. The cat sniffed at it then scurried away at James' approaching footsteps. He unwrapped the brown paper and flipped through the tiny book's contents. This was the moment of realization, the answer he had been seeking for months.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Lily tucked Harry in, read him a story about fantastic beasts and daring knights. James lay on the couch, watching television without focus, too consumed in his revelation. He didn't hear the lock turn in the door.

The tall man's shoes squeaked on the tile. James stood up, wondering if Padfoot had finished his night of debauchery and needed to crash on the couch.

It wasn't Sirius Black.

BANG.

He hadn't had time to react. Suddenly he was back on the couch, cluching at the wetness soaking his shirt. Red on blue, straight to the chest. Lily. His last thought, his last warning could not be materialized into words.


Bathilda Bagshot heard the gunshot. Or it could have just been a car backfiring. She called 911 anyway.


Lily heard the shot and screamed. Harry had been drifting off to sleep. He was now wide awake and crying, frightened by the loud noise.

The creaking step never sounded so ominous. Like her husband, she had no time to react. She shielded the crib from the doorway, hoping for something, anything to save her son.

BANG.

She crumpled and Harry howled. The tall man approached him. The cold metal rested against the boy's forehead. He pulled the trigger.

The siren blazed and he stumbled backwards. He had only expected to kill one tonight. She needn't have died. And the boy…He fled the house just in time.


Rubeus Hagrid had never seen anything like it in all his years working as an EMT. There was no need to transport anyone to the hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were dead. But their son was not. In fact, their son had been inches away from their fate.

The gun was free of fingerprints. There were only two bullets found at the scene. Two bullets yet the gun had been fired three times.

Harry Potter walked away from the tragedy with a jagged scar and his life. The press called him 'The Boy Who Lived'.


A/N - Thoughts? I'm planning on it covering all seven books. I'd like some feedback on what you might want to see/what aspects of the books I should include.