centerChapter 1 - The End of the Beginning/center
It was a cold evening at the end of October. Trees swayed in the wind that rattled the windows on the street. And Harry Potter appeared before his house, happy to be able to see his wife, Luna, and daughter, Elizabeth, again. It had been a long day filling out reports on current Death Eaters who had gone uncounted for in the past few months, and what he deserved was a nice, hearty welcome from his family.
But it never came. As he closed the door behind him, he wondered at the silence. Luna always came to greet him, her long, blonde, curly hair flowing as she carried Elizabeth around. But no sound was to be heard. Except a faint wailing, somewhere in the house.
He dropped his bag and moved quickly, trying to find the source of the sound. It grew clearer as he neared his daughter's room. He threw the door open to reveal a horrible sight.
Luna, his Luna, lay prostrate on the ground. She was dead.
"No. No, no, no!" he yelled at the night. Throwing himself on the ground, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed for the first time in as long as he could remember. Then he looked up at Elizabeth, who was wailing for her mother. She might continue to yell until her eyes and her mother's, almost indistinguishable from each other, met, and Luna's eyes were closed forever.
He saw a slip of paper crushed in Luna's left hand. Carefully, he opened it up. Three words stood out at him.
YOU'RE NEXT, POTTER.
And Harry knew who had done it. He couldn't believe.all for revenge.
Elizabeth gave a painful cry and looked at her father, who picked her up and cradled her in his arms. He had to get her out of danger. And he could never look at her again without thinking of his young wife, of her death. He-he had to give her up.
Harry shot out the door, not looking back.
"Tonks, you understand what I have to do, don't you?"
A fairly young woman with pink-tinted hair shook her head. "No, but you have to do it anyway."
"Tell Ron and Hermione. Make sure they know."
"Don't worry, I will, Harry."
"Thanks, Tonks. I knew I could count on you. I'll-I'll see you around, Tonks."
"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks replied sadly, watching Harry leave with his baby daughter. So much destruction.
center* * */center
"Yes, yes, we'll keep her name Elizabeth Potter. Elizabeth Smith sounds so.repetitive, somehow."
The orphanage lady sighed in relief. She was beginning to think that no one would want a child who was forced to keep her last name. But it had been that sad young man's only request before he left the girl at the orphanage.
The Smiths were overjoyed. A second baby girl to call their own! And their little Emma would have someone her own age to play with. It was perfect.
They reached the house shortly afterwards, little Elizabeth in Mrs. Smith's arms. "This is your new home, Elizabeth. You weren't originally ours, but you were adopted and we love you very much."
And so, through the years, Elizabeth Potter grew (at a very slow rate). She was so small that the Smiths decided the name Elizabeth to be too big for such a little girl, and instead call her Liz. Liz was reminded everyday that she was adopted and still loved.
Soon came the day when Liz was old enough to ask, "What happened to my real mummy and daddy? You know, the first ones?"
And Mrs. Smith looked, bewildered, at Mr. Smith, who looked back at her, just as confused. And Mrs. Smith knelt down to her adopted daughter's level and said, "Well, honey, we don't know."
As Liz and Emma grew, the two became the best of friends. Liz would never go anywhere unless Emma was invited, and Emma never minded sharing anything with Liz, whether it be dessert or toys or anything else.
One day, when both the girls were about eleven, they were playing dolls when a Itap, tap, tap/I sound caught their ears.
"What's that, Liz?"
"I don't know, Emma."
The sisters stood up and heard the noise again: Itap, tap, tap./I
"It's coming from the window."
The two of them crept to the window to see a tawny, majestic-looking owl pecking at the window. It had a letter attached to its leg.
Liz gasped.
"MUM!" Emma yelled. "MUM, THERE'S AN OWL AT THE WINDOW!"
Mrs. Smith hurried in. "What is it, sweetie?"
"There's a big ugly owl at the window, Mum."
"It's not ugly, Emma, it's handsome," Liz said. Neither Emma nor Mrs. Smith paid any attention as the latter cautiously drew the window open and let the bird in. It gave a melancholy hoot, dropped the letter, and perched itself on the coffee table. Emma snatched the letter up.
"Look, Liz, it's to you!" Emma said, showing Liz the address.
Miss Elizabeth Potter The Living Room 111 Amulet Drive London, England
"How would they know I'm in the living room? And who sends letters with owls, anyway?" Liz said, ever the practical one. She flipped the envelope over to find the image of a lion, a badger, a raven, and a snake curling themselves around a letter H. This she shared with Emma.
"Open it!" Emma urged impatiently.
Liz obliged and withdrew the letter. It was on a rough sort of parchment.
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a supply list. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Have a pleasant day.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Is this some sort of joke?" Liz said softly.
"It's got to be," Mrs. Smith said. Emma nodded.
"If it is, it's an elaborate one," Liz said.
"But.a school with witchcraft and wizardry? Full of people who send letters with birds? Sounds downright fishy to me," Emma declared.
"It's a prank, honey. Do you know anyone who doesn't like you and owns an owl?" Mrs. Smith inquired, looking worriedly at her adopted daughter.
Before Liz could answer, the doorbell rang. Liz ran to answer it, and she stopped to face a tall old woman dressed in a glittery green cape and a tall pointy hat.
"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," she said.
"Uh.uh.Mum? Mum! MUM!"
Mrs. Smith came running. "What is it, sweetie-oh, pardon me, who are you?"
"My name is Minerva McGonagall. May I see that?" she asked of a petrified Liz, who was still clutching the letter in her hand. The woman looked it over and nodded. "Everything seems to be in order. I suppose I really must explain, mustn't I?"
"Yes," Mrs. Smith replied faintly. "Yes, you must."
"All right. Years ago.oh, wait, you don't know.Elizabeth is a witch. She can do magic."
"Um, excuse me, ma'am, but you must have the wrong Elizabeth Potter. I can't be a witch."
"Oh, but you can. Your father was one of the most famous wizards ever. And haven't you ever made anything happen without meaning to? Your father accidentally set a boa constrictor at a zoo loose once."
Liz thought, and then nodded slowly. There were too many incidents to count where she hadn't had an explanation for what had happened.
"You see? Now, years ago, there was a Dark wizard. Dark. Evil. However you'd like. His name was Voldemort, and he tried to kill your father as a baby, but he couldn't. The spell rebounded on Voldemort, who was stripped of his powers. To make a long story short, Voldemort eventually regained his body, but was destroyed by your father. And your father's name is celebrated, even today, by the entire wizarding world. But there is more to the story.
"Your father got married to your mother, a wonderful young lady named Luna Lovegood. She looked almost precisely like you, in fact." McGonagall went silent for a moment, and Liz thought she was remembering something. "Then, as far as anyone knows, your father came home one day to find Luna.dead. His beautiful wife was gone. All he had left was you, and he gave you to the orphanage, only requesting that you should keep his surname. I believe he was then followed. Stalked, if you will, most likely by his wife's murderer. After a few months in hiding, he completely disappeared and was presumed dead. It remains my personal belief that his stalker caught up with him." McGonagall bowed her head.
Liz blinked. How, how could this all be true?
"So you were adopted into a very loving family-" (here Mrs. Smith beamed) "- and raised as a Muggle."
"Muggle?" Liz asked.
"Non-magic person. So, yes, that's it. Any questions?"
Mrs. Smith opened her mouth, but Liz spoke first.
"One. What was my father's name?"
"Harry," McGonagall replied. "Harry Potter."
It was a cold evening at the end of October. Trees swayed in the wind that rattled the windows on the street. And Harry Potter appeared before his house, happy to be able to see his wife, Luna, and daughter, Elizabeth, again. It had been a long day filling out reports on current Death Eaters who had gone uncounted for in the past few months, and what he deserved was a nice, hearty welcome from his family.
But it never came. As he closed the door behind him, he wondered at the silence. Luna always came to greet him, her long, blonde, curly hair flowing as she carried Elizabeth around. But no sound was to be heard. Except a faint wailing, somewhere in the house.
He dropped his bag and moved quickly, trying to find the source of the sound. It grew clearer as he neared his daughter's room. He threw the door open to reveal a horrible sight.
Luna, his Luna, lay prostrate on the ground. She was dead.
"No. No, no, no!" he yelled at the night. Throwing himself on the ground, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed for the first time in as long as he could remember. Then he looked up at Elizabeth, who was wailing for her mother. She might continue to yell until her eyes and her mother's, almost indistinguishable from each other, met, and Luna's eyes were closed forever.
He saw a slip of paper crushed in Luna's left hand. Carefully, he opened it up. Three words stood out at him.
YOU'RE NEXT, POTTER.
And Harry knew who had done it. He couldn't believe.all for revenge.
Elizabeth gave a painful cry and looked at her father, who picked her up and cradled her in his arms. He had to get her out of danger. And he could never look at her again without thinking of his young wife, of her death. He-he had to give her up.
Harry shot out the door, not looking back.
"Tonks, you understand what I have to do, don't you?"
A fairly young woman with pink-tinted hair shook her head. "No, but you have to do it anyway."
"Tell Ron and Hermione. Make sure they know."
"Don't worry, I will, Harry."
"Thanks, Tonks. I knew I could count on you. I'll-I'll see you around, Tonks."
"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks replied sadly, watching Harry leave with his baby daughter. So much destruction.
center* * */center
"Yes, yes, we'll keep her name Elizabeth Potter. Elizabeth Smith sounds so.repetitive, somehow."
The orphanage lady sighed in relief. She was beginning to think that no one would want a child who was forced to keep her last name. But it had been that sad young man's only request before he left the girl at the orphanage.
The Smiths were overjoyed. A second baby girl to call their own! And their little Emma would have someone her own age to play with. It was perfect.
They reached the house shortly afterwards, little Elizabeth in Mrs. Smith's arms. "This is your new home, Elizabeth. You weren't originally ours, but you were adopted and we love you very much."
And so, through the years, Elizabeth Potter grew (at a very slow rate). She was so small that the Smiths decided the name Elizabeth to be too big for such a little girl, and instead call her Liz. Liz was reminded everyday that she was adopted and still loved.
Soon came the day when Liz was old enough to ask, "What happened to my real mummy and daddy? You know, the first ones?"
And Mrs. Smith looked, bewildered, at Mr. Smith, who looked back at her, just as confused. And Mrs. Smith knelt down to her adopted daughter's level and said, "Well, honey, we don't know."
As Liz and Emma grew, the two became the best of friends. Liz would never go anywhere unless Emma was invited, and Emma never minded sharing anything with Liz, whether it be dessert or toys or anything else.
One day, when both the girls were about eleven, they were playing dolls when a Itap, tap, tap/I sound caught their ears.
"What's that, Liz?"
"I don't know, Emma."
The sisters stood up and heard the noise again: Itap, tap, tap./I
"It's coming from the window."
The two of them crept to the window to see a tawny, majestic-looking owl pecking at the window. It had a letter attached to its leg.
Liz gasped.
"MUM!" Emma yelled. "MUM, THERE'S AN OWL AT THE WINDOW!"
Mrs. Smith hurried in. "What is it, sweetie?"
"There's a big ugly owl at the window, Mum."
"It's not ugly, Emma, it's handsome," Liz said. Neither Emma nor Mrs. Smith paid any attention as the latter cautiously drew the window open and let the bird in. It gave a melancholy hoot, dropped the letter, and perched itself on the coffee table. Emma snatched the letter up.
"Look, Liz, it's to you!" Emma said, showing Liz the address.
Miss Elizabeth Potter The Living Room 111 Amulet Drive London, England
"How would they know I'm in the living room? And who sends letters with owls, anyway?" Liz said, ever the practical one. She flipped the envelope over to find the image of a lion, a badger, a raven, and a snake curling themselves around a letter H. This she shared with Emma.
"Open it!" Emma urged impatiently.
Liz obliged and withdrew the letter. It was on a rough sort of parchment.
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a supply list. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Have a pleasant day.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Is this some sort of joke?" Liz said softly.
"It's got to be," Mrs. Smith said. Emma nodded.
"If it is, it's an elaborate one," Liz said.
"But.a school with witchcraft and wizardry? Full of people who send letters with birds? Sounds downright fishy to me," Emma declared.
"It's a prank, honey. Do you know anyone who doesn't like you and owns an owl?" Mrs. Smith inquired, looking worriedly at her adopted daughter.
Before Liz could answer, the doorbell rang. Liz ran to answer it, and she stopped to face a tall old woman dressed in a glittery green cape and a tall pointy hat.
"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," she said.
"Uh.uh.Mum? Mum! MUM!"
Mrs. Smith came running. "What is it, sweetie-oh, pardon me, who are you?"
"My name is Minerva McGonagall. May I see that?" she asked of a petrified Liz, who was still clutching the letter in her hand. The woman looked it over and nodded. "Everything seems to be in order. I suppose I really must explain, mustn't I?"
"Yes," Mrs. Smith replied faintly. "Yes, you must."
"All right. Years ago.oh, wait, you don't know.Elizabeth is a witch. She can do magic."
"Um, excuse me, ma'am, but you must have the wrong Elizabeth Potter. I can't be a witch."
"Oh, but you can. Your father was one of the most famous wizards ever. And haven't you ever made anything happen without meaning to? Your father accidentally set a boa constrictor at a zoo loose once."
Liz thought, and then nodded slowly. There were too many incidents to count where she hadn't had an explanation for what had happened.
"You see? Now, years ago, there was a Dark wizard. Dark. Evil. However you'd like. His name was Voldemort, and he tried to kill your father as a baby, but he couldn't. The spell rebounded on Voldemort, who was stripped of his powers. To make a long story short, Voldemort eventually regained his body, but was destroyed by your father. And your father's name is celebrated, even today, by the entire wizarding world. But there is more to the story.
"Your father got married to your mother, a wonderful young lady named Luna Lovegood. She looked almost precisely like you, in fact." McGonagall went silent for a moment, and Liz thought she was remembering something. "Then, as far as anyone knows, your father came home one day to find Luna.dead. His beautiful wife was gone. All he had left was you, and he gave you to the orphanage, only requesting that you should keep his surname. I believe he was then followed. Stalked, if you will, most likely by his wife's murderer. After a few months in hiding, he completely disappeared and was presumed dead. It remains my personal belief that his stalker caught up with him." McGonagall bowed her head.
Liz blinked. How, how could this all be true?
"So you were adopted into a very loving family-" (here Mrs. Smith beamed) "- and raised as a Muggle."
"Muggle?" Liz asked.
"Non-magic person. So, yes, that's it. Any questions?"
Mrs. Smith opened her mouth, but Liz spoke first.
"One. What was my father's name?"
"Harry," McGonagall replied. "Harry Potter."