The father of a race.
Rain was falling heavily in the dark night, slowly trying to beat the earth to submission. A flash outlined the landscape for a moment before it was gone.
Twenty minutes earlier a mother had gently been singing her young son to sleep, the love in her voice simple and pure, a power in itself.
The little boy heard a voice that he didn't know, it was strong and it had purpose, above all it was dark. The words he heard was avada kedavra.
The little boy could feel his heart tearing. In desperation he reached out with his entire being towards the warm and loving lump known as mother.
In that moment the words avada kedavra sounded once again. A dark man watched in satisfaction how his curse traveled the distance to the child.
A moment before the curse would have hit the child a bright light flared, the mans eyes widened in horror as he felt his powers being drained.
He quickly summoned the remnants of his powers and apparated to a manor as dark and menacing as himself, there he would sleep for many years. Until the day when his powers returned.
Early in the morning a young woman was walking down to a river. She was to collect water to the palace where she worked. To be honest the woman would much rather be asleep in the house of her father. But she was doing her year of service to the king if she were to be discovered neglecting her duties she would be beheaded.
The woman would find this morning boring for a further minute. When she arrived to the bend in the river were she could reach the water, she heard the leafs of a nearby bush give a slight rustle.
Normally this would not have startled the woman but this morning there was a noticeable lack of wind.
Slowly and tentatively she walked over to the bush, naturally not before she had made sure that the bush could not hide a grown man.
In the bush she saw a pair of green eyes staring somberly at her. She wondered what this strange animal was. Then she saw that the eyes belonged to a human child.
The child scared her for he was like no child she had ever seen. His skin was pale like fresh milk, and his eyes had a color never before seen in the city of Eridu by the lower sea. Not only did the color of his eyes amaze her, she was mesmerized by the power they held, she felt him scrutinize her entire being.
When he blinked she was finally able to lock away. She allowed her eyes to study the little boy in front of her. When she reached his forehead she froze.
She gently tock the little boy in her arms and ran towards the palace. By the riverside a pot lay forgotten by the woman carrying the child bearing the royal mark upon his forehead.
Authors note: greetings mighty reader. This story is an experiment that will continue. I have big plans for this story. I will take dear Harry trough the passing of history, he will also father an race of magical creatures. To any living thing feeling an overwhelming need to review, remember this: I am an Swedish dyslectic whit an dysfunctional spelling aid, any grammar and/or spelling suggestions are more than welcome. As I said before I am Swede, it was a long time since I wrote any English, this story will get better as I get back my feeling of this language. Last I wish to tell you that I value honesty over pleasantry, feel free to be mean if that is what it take to make your opinion show.