This fic was co-written by Randomly Various and Saturn's Candlesticks. Woo! We rock!
Disclaimer: We are in no way responsible for J.K. Rowling's characters.
Prologue
The woman in green stood there, looking at a tall man and another man with a briefcase and the tip of his wand sticking out of his pocket. She dared not look behind her at the others: it would hurt too much… more than it already did.
"What are we going to do about the boy?" she asked in a barely audible whisper. The two men seemed to think of all the possibilities. The elderly woman looked down at the young boy wrapped up in a blanket. "He can't go on knowing this."
"Yeah, I know," the tall man said, shaking his head. "It just wouldn't hold up. We could tell him later on, obviously… about this whole ordeal. We'd have to: he'd be famous! And he'd wonder about that scar…"
"And then when he goes to school…" the man with the briefcase continued. "But for now, I don't know what we should do."
Appearing behind the woman, an old man with a silver beard and half-moon glasses walked over to the little group. A shooting star shot through the sky. The newcomer looked up and watched it cross the dark blue blanket.
"They are started the celebrations," he stated.
"Yes, but how foolish of them. The Muggles are bound to notice something," the briefcase man said, frowning.
"Let them have their fun. They've been waiting for this day for so many long years."
"Still, they shouldn't give the whole magical world away," he huffed.
"But what are we going to do with… with him?" the woman asked, motioning to the little boy. The old man bent down, his sleek black boots squeaking against the pavement. He moved a tuft of hair away from the boy's forehead and tapped the lightning bolt scar lightly with his forefinger.
"He is to live with his family," the old man replied.
The woman nodded, understanding. Another star shot into the sky, lighting up their faces. The man with the briefcase scowled.
"But… we can't have him remembering this," the tall man protested.
"I know," replied the old man. "You should see to it that a memory charm will be placed upon him."
They nodded. The briefcase man brandished his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the boy. "Oblivious!" he shouted as a light flashed toward the boy.
The only sound heard after the charm was completed was the giggling of the little boy as another star shot across the sky…
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"Are you serious?" a man with jet-black, messy hair demanded, after his best friend had told him the tale.
"Absolutely."
"But… he's really gone?" the black-haired man repeated, savoring the words. The other man nodded.
The black-haired man turned around to his wife, who was holding their baby. He hugged her tightly, making sure not to squish his son. Then he turned back to his friend.
"How?"
"Nobody knows! The little boy… just… no one knows…"
"Wow…" whispered the black-haired man.
His attention was suddenly turned to a roaring sound outside.
"Hey, now! Turn it off before you upset the little one." He smiled jokingly at his friend.
"I think she's changed you, man," the other man joked back…
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A red-haired woman jumped up in glee, hugging her red-haired husband.
"It's over!" she cried, grinning from ear to ear. "It's all over."
Two young twin boys jumped around the house, screaming. "We will, we will, rock you!" they sang a Muggle song.
"Shush! You'll wake the baby," their mother scolded…
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A man rolled over in his bed, his wife long asleep before he. Today was a strange, strange day. Those people in cloaks… and being hugged by that weird, little man… and a whisper… a whisper about…
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In a small pub in London, people were celebrating and cheering, for tonight was a joyous night that not many had seen the past years. They all held up their goblets and shouted one phrase, in unison: "To the boy who lived!"