Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they belong to the great JK Rowling. I'm just playing with them… Lights a match and looks devious, one of the characters comes along "So what's the match for?" I shrug and blow it out… "I thought it made me look cool OKAY?" This plot bunny (I've named him Mr. Pumbles Tumbles) has been bouncing around my head for a little while, I've decided to let him run around for a bit on the page and annoy you all… Enjoy!

The Thing About Grace

Prologue

The Prophecy:

The one of pure evil shall take the innocence of one whom he deems worthy,

In her he shall plant a seed of power,

And this power which he has bestowed his own life into will one day be reclaimed by him,

From there will stem unbelievable power which nothing in the world will be able to stand against.

It had been a wintry night when he had come for her. She had known about the prophecy for a long while, ever since she turned sixteen. Her parents had stolen her away to Canada when she was seven and they had discovered the prophecy. For the past twenty years she had been moved to different locations around the country (such as Winnipeg, Prince George, Smithers, Richmond, Calgary and Charlottetown to name a few) living as a muggle with private wizardry lessons to avoid detection by him. She knew he would inevitably find her and the prophecy would be fulfilled, nevertheless she was grateful for the time she had gained. She was given ample time to consider her future.

In one sense she was strangely rather relieved to see him standing in the snowbanks outside her home, now in Hawkstone. This part of the prophecy would be done with and she could move on to the next phase.

She shivered when the door swung open after a small click. Snowflakes fluttered lazily inside and settled as droplets on the carpet.

His skin was barely distinguishable from the snow and was just as cold. His eyes were red droplets of blood, shimmering and frozen in their glares.

It was all relatively quick. A binding spell, the cold air coming through the still open door, and a rustle of robes was all it took to fulfill the words prophesied long ago. Then he was gone, his form obscured by fragmented squalls of white powder.

She shuddered again as she rubbed her abdomen with a concentrated frown. She shut the door gently.

She sat at her table where a place was set for her with tea steeping. There was time enough for a cup before she had to depart. In the back of her mind she made a mental note to pack a couple of boxes of the Red Rose tea, being her favorite, and only sold in Canada.

She felt shaken and slightly depressed at the evenings' events but knew from experience that grudges could create some of the strongest chains and only serve to make the reality of the situation more of a burden. So she did the only thing she could.

She forgave him.

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