My Own 1

With an almost peaceful smile Charlene Thyra Potter raised her wand to point it at her heart. She was not happy, and she was also far from peaceful but she didn't have to be. No, for the curse she was about to use she needed only to feel hate and the overwhelming need for the person the curse was directed at, to die. Both she could provide in abundance. There was nothing left for her to live for, her only hope lay in the afterlife and her hate for herself had grown since she had failed to save her family.

Two words would be all it would take to bring her peace, two simple words she had only uttered once before when she had killed the monster that had brought her so much pain.

Exactly twenty four years ago her life had started, twenty four years ago she had been born and now she would die at the same place her parents had given their life for hers.

"Avada kedavara"

Soundlessly the body of a young black-haired woman hit the grass covered ground, a smile on her face, her green eyes wide open. Hours would pass before her body would be found; hours before the wizarding world began morning their saviour, blaming each other for her suicide. Some though were also complaining bitterly at what she took from them. Oh, they were not talking about her but about her possessions. During the war Gringotts had offered their most honoured clients a special, never before heard of service, their treasure stones. Seemingly worthless stones that were keyed to the magical signature of a person or family- line and were able to store all their belongings they normally kept in their vaults. As soon as these stones were activated only the owner - or a council of at least four goblins - could gain access to the treasures hidden within. But even though Charlie Potter was dead did the goblins refuse to open the stone, leaving it to be buried days later with her corps.

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked around. What her eyes met was not what she had expected; even though she did not know what you saw once you were dead she knew that it was not someone standing over you asking you if you needed a doctor! It took some time to convince the middle-aged man that she was indeed fine and had just fainted for no apparent reason and that she would seek a doctor on her own, but in the end she managed. But the question what happened remained. Where was she, when was she and most of all why was she? She was sure, no she knew that she had performed the killing curse correctly – so why wasn't she dead? Was it a cruel twist of fate; was this the true meaning of the prophecy, that only Voldemort was able to kill her? Was she damned to live forever? In an almost painful rush memories invaded her mind, memories of a life she had not led but that was now hers.

She was still Charlene Thyra Potter – but she was no longer the child of James and Lily. No, in this place, this world she was the daughter of Charles and Moira Potter, the aunt and uncle of her father…now cousin. Even more she had also been married, and pregnant with twins; no, she had not been pregnant, she was still pregnant. Yet her husband was still dead. Did that mean that she had buried two husbands as she remembered both of them, her love for both of them, and both of their deaths. Both Draco Lucien Malfoy and Lucas Samuel DeWinter had been murdered while she had been forced to watch, both had left her everything but the one thing she wanted, them. She refused to think of them now, she, or rather who she was in this world, was alive and still in a position to change his future and she would be damned if she allowed her past to become his future.

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic had had a good day. Oh, the claims of the Potter boy that You-Know-Who had returned had been hard to listen to, but as the boy would, from the moment he left the school, be no longer under Dumbledores' influence he had no worries in that department. After all the young Lady DeWinter had been such a nice sensible woman. And in her…state, newly widowed and with child, she would certainly not want to hear about the possible return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No, the Potter brat was no longer a source of concern, now Dumbledore on the other hand…

Harry, Harry was not having a good day. He always hated to have to return to the Dursleys but this year it was especially hard. Cedric was dead simply because he had been at the wrong place at the wrong time – as had he himself and as a consequence Voldemort had returned. And even after all this he had to return to the isolation of the Dursleys without any real news, without his friends and without Sirius.

Albus Dumbledore was not a man who panicked easily, far from it, but at the moment he was panicked. Molly Weasley had fire-called him just as an hour ago, telling him that Harry she had seen Harrys' relatives talk to a young woman who then seemingly left with Harry – and while he would have been able to dismiss this one report he could not overlook that moments ago he had been told by young Nymphadora Tonks that Harry Potter had not returned with his family from Kings Cross. All facts pointed to one frightening thing, Harry Potter had been kidnapped – and he could not ask Cornelius help in looking for him. No, all he could do was search for him behind the scene and pray. Pray that Voldemort did not have the child he loved like a grandchild, pray that Harry was alive and well.

Sirius Black had had high hopes for the summer holidays. Finally, after so many years he would be able to spend time with his godson, even when it was not for the whole two months. All these dreams had been shattered when first Molly Weasley and later his cousin Tonks had told them that Harry was not where he was supposed to be. Still, he clung to the hope that they had just not seen him, that Tonks had stumbled over something during the time Harry had needed to leave the car and enter the house. That the Dursleys had just helped the young woman Molly had seen, that she had not taken Harry. An hour later a desperate man left the kitchen of his large town-house. Harry, his godson, the one, no one of the two persons he had left in the world, was missing. And now that Voldemort had resurrected himself it could only mean one thing: that he was captured.

It had been only a few hours ago that she had picked Harry up from the station. He had been leery and still eyed her with distrust that he wasn't even trying to conceal. It hurt. She knew that she had no right to be hurt by his open distrust, that on the contrary he had every right to distrust her – and yet, the fact that his eyes did not leave her for a second, the way his body was tensed, hurt her immensely.

"What do you want to eat Harry? Is it ok if I order Chinese?"

She was ready to cry when the only answer she received was a half shrug half nod. Calling a nearby restaurant that delivered she went back to the armchair she had been sitting in.

"We will talk once we have eaten – and then you can write your friends, godfather and headmaster and tell them that you are still alive."

At the shocked look on his face she felt laughter bubble up inside of her. She had not laughed since the day Draco had been murdered, no, that was not right, Luc had been murdered later. Here she had not laughed since Luc was murdered – but no matter which way she looked at it she hadn't laughed since the murder of her husbands. At first it didn't register that she was no longer laughing but instead crying but when she saw Harrys… terrified face she knew. Before she could say anything to him the doorbell rang.

Not one word was exchanged while they ate, the oppressive silence only broken by the sounds of eating. Soon, too soon both of them were finished and Harry was once again looking at her expectantly.

"As I told your aunt and uncle at the station I now have full custody of you; Fudge – or Cornelius as he has so graciously asked me to call him – has recognised my right to enforce all of the old laws. The fool doesn't realise that he has signed his own death warrant."

A dry chuckle escaped her as she thought how she would make Fudges and Umbridges life hell if they made one wrong move.

"In case you haven't realised by now, and I doubt that you have, what that means: I am your older cousin on your fathers side, my father was the older brother of your grandfather, meaning that I am the Potter Matriarch or Lady Potter. As such I hold the Potter vaults except your trust fund and am your legal guardian. Since we, the Potters, are, thanks to the idiot of a minister, as of two days ago only bound by the old laws, everything you do, every crime you commit, can only be punished by me. That is as long as you do not murder or torture anyone outside special regulations such as blood-feud, vengeance of blood and some others.

I know that Voldemort has returned a few weeks ago and I also know that you have to be the one to ultimately kill him – why I will tell you when I am sure that no one can force you to divulge that little fact – and that, would you face him tomorrow you would be killed within minutes. Of course only if he would not have the urge to torture you before your death. Dumbledore might not think it necessary to train you but I digress, starting the day after tomorrow I will train you. When I am no longer able to or when I believe you ready, you will duel with partners of my choice – and I tell you now that the will be stronger, faster and more knowledgeable than you. When I'm through with you, you will be able to kill Voldemort.

Other than that I will do my best to make sure that you are ready to live a life after Voldemort, that those you care about will be still alive. I will try to be there for you as much as possible but you should know best that life doesn't always go as planned.

When my father was killed by Voldemort my mother and I left England, we lived as muggles and I had no idea that you had not been killed with James and Lily. In Salem I heard the first time of Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived but we could find no information on where you lived. My mother died when I was in my sixth year and I had to stop to look actively for you but I still collected every bit of news, of rumour I could about you. Then, four years ago when you started Hogwarts Luc and I decided to take you in as soon as things had calmed down a bit… but that didn't happen. Then when we…I knew that I would have to stop the field work we decided that we would take you in this summer. I know that I am messed up at the moment and will be for some time… Look Harry, I know that you don't trust me and in your place I wouldn't either, but give me a chance ok."

Harry could not believe what he was hearing; only hours ago he had been prepared for a long torturous summer at the Dursleys only to be whisked away by this strange woman who now claimed to be his cousin. No-one had ever said anything about his father having a cousin! Admittedly he didn't even know the names of his grandparents and she did look kind of like his father…but still. Everyone could have Black hair and the high cheekbones and the pert nose could also come from everywhere. Still, a small irrational part of him whished fiercely that she was telling the truth, that she really was his cousin.

"This summer won't be easy for both of us" he kind of liked her voice, it was slightly deeper that the voices of the other women he knew – especially aunt Petunias – but it was soothing and …nice.

"You just saw a classmate murdered in front of you, have been tortured and saw the bastard who killed James and Lily be resurrected using your blood as a key ingredient and I ... I saw Luc and his father murdered while I was tortured – hell it is a miracle we are both alive, it is a miracle that my children have survived and will have no damage… We will make this work, Harry, we will make sure that you can kill Voldemort and that you can have a happy ever after!"

For long moments Harry was not sure what he should say, what could he say? Was he even supposed to say something at all? Finally only one thing seemed save to ask without thinking things over for a long, long time.

"Who is Luke?"

The moment the words left his mouth he knew that he should have kept it closed. For seconds only, raw anguish, love and fury raced each other over her face and eyes before she closed of, leaving him starring at a beautiful blank mask.

"Luc, Lucas Samuel DeWinter is, was, my husband. If you write to your friends I would be grateful if you didn't mention him or that I am Lady DeWinter. At least not at the moment. It was in every newspaper that Lord DeWinter and his only son and heir were murdered and that only the young Lady DeWinter survived and I don not want to deal with their pity on top of everything else. It will be hard enough to raise two children and a teenager on my own."

"Two children" Harry blurted out, looking around before settling his eyes back on his cousin. He had to admit that the longer he spent in her presence the more he liked her.

"I'm expecting twins in November."

For a moment all he could do was stare at her before he could finally utter a faint "oh"

Pulling himself together he asked what he should call her.

"Well, my name is Charlene Thyra. My parents called me Charlene while Luc prefers Thyra. Most of my friends and colleagues call me Charlie. When I was younger I adored James and he would call me "little pest" and other such flattering names. Then when Sirius had run away I became "Sirius little darling". I think for a time James was even jealous off all the time Sirius spend with me that summer. Anyway most of the time your father called me by his "nickname of the day" and whenever he or his friends did call me by my name – or at least a variation of it - it was Lene. So you can call me whatever you prefer."