Prologue
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Indeed, if one searched their house, one would find nothing out of the ordinary, except, perhaps, in the darkest corner of the attic, at the bottom of a mildew-ridden box, a chipped teacup with a propensity for biting noses.
This teacup belonged not to Mr Dursley, nor to Mrs Dursley. Rather it belonged to a far more interesting person, one much closer to the centre of our story then the Dursleys. Lily Potter, of Godric Hollow, was Mrs Dursley's sister, a term both used loosely. The two sisters had not spoken in several years, and had never been very close as children. They avoided each other for one simple reason. Lily Potter was a witch.
Yes, a witch. A wand-waving, spell casting, broom flying witch. And quite a good one at that. On the day our story begins, a dull, grey Tuesday, Mrs Potter woke as she always did, at 6:47 sharp. She walked down the stairs to the kitchen, prepared some tea with a wave of her wand, one with a drop of milk, the other a dash of lemon, and returned to her bedroom, checking in on her son, Harry, on the way. She entered her bedroom, placed one of the two cups on her husband's nightstand, and entered her closet.
After quickly getting changed into plain black robes, her clothes of choice since she was eleven, and pinning her vibrant red hair into a bun, she picked out a set of navy blue robes and, once again, entered her bedroom. She loved James with all her heart, but the poor man had no taste. The man in question had already woken up and finished his tea, and Lily could hear the shower going along the landing.
Spreading the robes over the bed, she went back to Harry's room. The small child was sleeping soundly, as he always had, and Lily was reluctant to wake him. Necessity won out however, and little Harry Potter was woken from his slumber to the bright world of consciousness. In response, he did what any of us would do in such a situation, given the mentality of a 15 month old. He cried. Lily sighed and picked him up, rocking him in a vain attempt to soothe him, and left his room.
By the time they had reached the kitchen, Harry's cries had faded as he became distracted by the change in environment. Slightly to the left of the room's centre stood a scrubbed wooden table, with six matching chairs. Across the room stood an enormous open-grate oven and stove, purple flame twinkling from within. To the left of the stove, counters with a stone sink, to the right, counters and a large white box. Double doors stood opposite Lily and Harry, the pantry, the white walls, beamed ceiling and quarry tile floor creating a very homey atmosphere.
It was less this environment that distracted Harry, after all he saw it every day at the same time, then it was the fact that at the head of the table sat one Sirius Black, his feet propped onto the table. Lily took the sight in immediately, and deposited Harry in his high chair.
"Feet off the table, Sirius. Lord knows how many germs you have on those boots." Lily said, already moving to the sink, plucking a pot from the wall and filling it with water.
"Germs, Lily?" Sirius spoke, incredulously. "You offend me! As if I, the great Sirius Black, Auror extraordinaire, would have such lowly organisms on the soles of his horrendously expensive dragon hide boots!" Sirius managed a serious face the whole time, before turning to Harry.
"Paffoot!" cried Harry, as if on cue. The young child's face was split in two by a gummy smile, glee clearly displayed.
"Hey tyke! Watcha been up to? Giving your parents hell?" Sirius had picked Harry out of his high chair as he said this, bringing him up to his chest, where Harry grabbed the collar of his robes. Lily snorted.
"He may be your Godson Sirius, but he carries none of your genes. He's a perfect angel." Lily sat at the table as she said this, a large bowl full of warm porridge being placed into the centre. Sirius helped himself to the porridge, having summoned some bowls from the cabinetry under the counters, while Lily cooled some off and began to feed Harry, again seated in his highchair.
When James Potter was showered and dressed and walked into the kitchen he was greeted with this familiar scene and contentedly began his day. None in Godric's Hollow that morning could know that at that exact moment, many miles away, an odd constellation of a skull and snake had appeared above a small house in Dorset, nor that in but a few minutes, their peace would be shattered by the sudden appearance of a Ministry owl, and certainly not that in this house the remains of a small, fat man, a close friend of theirs, would be found.
So, there it is. My first attempt at fanfiction. Sigh. Quite pathetic really. TM.