Prologue
"Lily! He's here! Take Harry and Run!"
"Avada Kedavra!..."
"…No! Please! Not my Harry! Please!"
"Stand aide you silly girl!"
"No please! Take me instead!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
With that final curse, all those that stood between The Dark Lord and his destined foe had perished. The woman's body lay across the edge of the crib that the chosen child was entrapped in, giving The Dark Lord free access.
"Finally. We come to this moment at last. With your death, my immortality is ensured. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The green spell flew towards its target. Before it reached the child, however, a fiery shield sprang into existence around the child. The corpse of his mother turned to ash, and the spell rebounded, magnified, back at The Dark Lord. With no room to dodge, he was hit solidly in the chest, burning his body to ash as well. Yet, he did not die that night.
( | )/_/ _( O ) \_\(_|_)Night had just fallen on the village of Little Whinging, allowing the newly lit street lights to glisten off the freshly fallen snow. Most families in the neighborhood were bundled up inside their homes, enjoying the Christmas time cheer.
That is… all but one family.
"FREAK!" a purple faced man yelled at a young boy, no older than five years of age. "Get back out there and finish shoveling the drive!"
The man grabbed the boy by the arm and bodily threw him outside without a coat, nor shoes. He landed face first in a nearby snow drift, busting his nose in the process. The man then slammed the door of the house, and the definitive sounds of the deadbolt being locked was heard.
The boy, known as Freak, gingerly picked himself up and grabbed his glasses. The bridge of them had snapped again. Maybe he could finally convince the loud purple man to buy him a replacement. He slowly made his way to the garage where the shovel was kept. He began shoveling where he had left off moments before when he had tried to warm up inside.
His sweater, obviously several sizes too large for his emaciated form, was now stained red in fresh blood. He knew he would be punished for ruining his only sweater, but he couldn't bring himself to truly care. The hunger he felt, as he hadn't been fed in a few days, gnawed at him, distracting any emotion he might have had.
He wished he had left his shoes on… at least he would be able to feel his feet, and maybe they wouldn't be turning so blue. Maybe if he finished quickly, they would finally feed him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been fed. It felt so long ago.
After around a half hour, he completed his task. Stowing the shovel, he attempted to return indoors. The front door was barred, and he knew if he were to knock or ring the bell he wouldn't be fed, and the beatings would be worse. If the purple men even let him in.
Circling around, he tried the back door, but it too was barred. His small frame couldn't reach any windows, even if they were open. He could hear the happy family inside watching the television. He knew there would be no entering the house tonight.
Sighing to himself, he began to walk down the street. Maybe the cat lady would let him in. He didn't like the cats, but at least he would be warm.
As he walked, the wind began to feel colder than was before. The sudden chill seeped into his bones, causing him to trip. He ended up half buried in the snow. Freezing, blurry vision, and now wet, he brought himself back to his feet, and resumed walking.
He stumbled again. He was so tired. Maybe a quick nap would help… no. he had to get to the cat lady. There he could be warm. Maybe even fed. If he could just get there…
He fell to the ground again, too tired to even get up this time. A nap sounded so good right now. Just a small one… then he could make it to the cat lady's home…
The wind slowly grew louder, the cold getting stronger. The young boy could only lay there, nothing would move him. A pale blue glow began to emanate around him. Not even this got the attention of the boy, as the cold and tiredness took over.
As his vision faded completely, the small boy made a desperate plea internally for safety and warmth, for a home. 'Help me…'
Frost began to cover the small form, yet somehow the boy felt no cold. He was long gone, hovering on the edge to the abyss. Darkness enveloped him, comforting him as he slipped deeper into emptiness.
The light faded completely from his eyes, but next to where the boy had lain, a single winter's rose had grown. Blooming and beautiful, it sat solitary against the harsh winter.
( | )/_/ _( O ) \_\(_|_)Deep beneath London, further down than any human had been before, an oval stone that once shone a soft white was consumed by an inky blackness before fading completely. But before the designated watcher could notify another of the loss of life, the stone flared into a fiery red, and seemed to pulse with inner life.
Wide eyed, the goblin watching the stone, and others like it, ran to the heavy iron door guarding the room. Knocking twice, a small hatch opened, and another goblin could be seen behind the door. "Alert Account Manager Sharpclaw. The Potter stone has changed."
( | )/_/ _( O ) \_\(_|_)Several devices sitting on a shelf in an opulent office within an old Scottish castle suddenly began chirping and spinning wildly. This went on for several moments before they all sputtered and died.
An old man, alerted by the devices, was startled by this. He quickly looked to another device that was linked to the others. While it had stopped spinning with the others, it started spinning again a few seconds after. "What could this mean?"