The Next Generation and the Blades of Alpha and Omega

Summary: Both another prophesy and old skeletons are unearthed as one of Harry's many children enters Hogwarts. In the year 2014 everyone has grown up and their children are ready to walk in their footsteps. Some a little closer than others…

Chapter: Prologue

NOTA BENE: This chapter is simply a prologue so that you won't be lost later on in the story. This will probably be the ONLY CHAPTER TOLD THROUGH PARVATI'S POINT OF VIEW. And no, the story is not primarily about her, although her son is one of the protagonists along with Harry's daughter.

Cogito ergo doleo - I think therefore I am depressed

The now twenty-five year old Parvati downed her fourth fire whiskey as her childhood pal gnawed off the ears of her closest friends. It seemed as if old Jock McThick had finally done something right. Lavender let out another girlish giggle as she yet waved the small boulder on her finger in their faces. In her present state of euphoria she was oblivious to the fact that her best friend did not share in her elation. Don't take it the wrong way- Parvati absolutely adored her best friend… it's just that she's had a lot of things on her mind lately and the reason for her girlfriend's late night call to the Hog's Head just seemed to add lemon juice to a perfectly fine paper cut.

It seemed like everybody was finding happiness now-a-days. Harry and Luna had gotten married and already had two kids, as had Hermione and Ron. Surprisingly enough, Ron was the very first out of all of his siblings to have children, after which he joined the Chudley Cannons as star keeper, all the while earning huge wages to boot. Harry of course had become an auror after the defeat of the Dark Lord and had just recently been crowned as "One of the Most Influential Wizards of All Time" in Who's Who in the Wizarding World. Both Hermione and Luna had become highly renowned healers at St. Mugo's (although Luna was still a large authority figure over "The Quibbler"). Her own sister couldn't resist rubbing the hopelessness of her situation in her face when she had married Terry Boot just last year.

In a nutshell, people were getting married and starting families left and right, and then there was poor old Parvati: "Always a bridesmaid but never a bride." She under stood the old proverb patience is a virtue more than anyone else she knew. Why, just a few days ago she had been loosely engaged to the rich and famous (at least in the muggle world) footballer Dean Thomas. Unfortunately, that dream came crashing down last week when he had caught him in their bed with his blond slag of a publicist.

The thought of the incident almost brought her to tears and made her want to vomit at the same time. The girl was abruptly shaken out of her inattention by the voice if her friend.

"Pavvy- are you alright?" The strident voice screeched.

"Nnnnnughhh" Was the reply she got.

No. At least if she wasn't fully intoxicated that was the answer she would have given. After giving her award winning "Junior Miss Witch" grin she excused herself for the evening, not forgetting to congratulate Lavender one last time on the engagement. She refused all attempts for an escort (any twit could see that she was completely sloshed) and set out the door.

Happy to be away from the damp smells of the pub and into the fresh winter air, she decided to walk home instead of apparating. She needed some time to herself and the sound of her footsteps were a nice sort of audible therapy to the girl as she made her way down the dark London alley ways.

She suddenly stopped in her tracks as a large filthy stray cat crossed her path… But her heart nearly stopped when she realized that although she had balked, the sound of footsteps drawing near still lingered clear as day. She quickly looked all around her as she immediately quickened her pace, but in vain, because a hooded man soon cut her off.

She didn't have to stick around to get the gist of his intentions. She instantaneously ran the other way, but in ineffectively because the ruffian caught up to her in no less than two colossal strides. In three seconds he had disarmed her wand and had her pinned to the ground. Not even her diligent DA training could help her now. She attempted to pick up a broken beer bottle to defend herself, but he took that away from her to, severing her left hand and creating a bone deep cut in the process. He had silenced her long ago, so screaming was useless. Out of ways to fight, she soon fell unconscious.

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THE NEXT MORNING she woke up in her flat in her bed (to her disgust and absolute horror-although she had boiled the sheets ages ago). No scratches or bruises from the concrete she remembered so well, there wasn't even a mark on her hand. Last night's occurrences seemed like a vivid dream, and for a few weeks she even let herself think that.

Until she found out she was pregnant a month later.

At first the hopeful wish that it may be Dean's came to mind- but she quickly rule that option out. The two hadn't been intimate in over two months when she had caught him in the act. Unfortunately, that only left one bleak alternative. She was carrying the child of a stranger. The baby of a man she would never truly know but about she would always wonder. Time and time again she tried to ask her unborn child to offer up answers as to what she should do; repeatedly she tried to go back to that quizzical moment when egg met sperm.. when sperm met egg, but to no avail. It took forever to convince Dean that the baby wasn't his; even after she had laid out the mathematical charts he appeared skeptical. Her parents were a different story altogether. Over and over they relentlessly demanded the name of the father, but she would not give it to them. She could not, but she never let anyone know the bitter events of what happened that frosty December night. Not for another eleven years…

GLOSSARY--

I am obsessed with English terminology and slang.. Even if it's not too well known.

Jock McThick- A general name for Scottish men