Albus Dumbledore stared out over the grounds of Hogwarts later that night, but his eyes did not see the shimmering surface or the Black Lake, nor the flashes of fireworks in Hogsmeade, celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord. His mind was whirring with predictions of the future, of when Voldemort returned. He knew Tom had been obsessed with avoiding death, and the old wizard was sure he had made Horcruxes, although he could only make an educated guess how many. He would have to start investigating. If he had known what he was to become, would he have killed Tom Riddle when he met him in that orphanage? It was clear that he had no love for muggles even then, but would he have become what he did if Albus had done more? That was why he had sent Tom back to the muggle orphanage each summer, to try to show him that not all muggles were bad, or teach him tolerance at least. Even when Tom pleaded, or as similar a thing as someone like Tom was likely to do, to stay at Hogwarts or Diagon Alley over the summer he had not allowed it.

Unknown to Dumbledore, this was precisely what had turned Tom Riddle in Lord Voldemort. The child that had done unexplained things as a child, who was punished mercilessly for bouts of accidental magic and who made no friends whatsoever during eleven years; the child of the Devil, as the Sister who ran the orphanage called him, or she had until he had killed her. And yet, the other children in the orphanage watched as this "freak" went to, as far as they knew, a fancy boarding school while they struggled for even the simplest of luxuries. Jealously was rampant, and jealously lead to hate, and hate to cruelty towards the boy that had everything in their eyes. Tom Riddle was never a kind boy, his early experiences made sure of that, but he would not have become a monster if he was not consistently reminded of what he saw as the depravity of muggles, and of the fact that no one would help you if it required any effort on their part – A fact that Dumbledore had reinforced to him.

When Tom was 13, the London Blitz began. This was when his fear of death truly manifested, when people were dying in their hundreds and Tom knew that he was as likely as any of them to be killed. This he saw as even more evidence of hatefulness of muggles; they were killing mothers, fathers, children who did nothing to them, even if to him they were only muggles. And so, when Tom returned to Hogwarts, he started his forays into the Restricted Section, looking for ways to cheat death. He found nothing. It was total luck that he happened across the Room of Requirement whilst hiding from Filch in his 4th year after a late night visit to the library. He was stunned by the contents of the room; piles upon piles of discarded brooms and lost uniforms, potions vials containing unidentifiable sludge, medieval weapons stained with blood; but most importantly, mountains of books ranging from first year textbooks to the darkest of Dark Arts. Tom spent every spare moment for the next year scouring the books in the Room, searching for a way to become immortal. In doing so, he came across innumerable rituals to improve himself, although many required sacrifices that made even him uneasy at the time. It was near the end of Tom's fifth year that he found a book detailing the creation of a Horcrux, a handwritten journal of an exceedingly dark wizard from the 13th century. The wizard never made one himself, but the instructions were most helpful.

Tom wanted his first Horcrux to be special, so in the summer after his fifth year he travelled to Little Hangleton, and killed his father, grandmother and grandfather, using their murders to create his first Horcrux: the Gaunt ring which he had stolen from his uncle. The next year, he opened the Chamber of Secrets and made his second Horcrux with the murder of Myrtle Warren: his diary. After splitting his soul twice, suddenly the sacrifices required for the rituals that had at first made him pale were now inconsequential. Why would he need to produce an heir if he was immortal? What did the lives of children matter to a God? That was when the monster was truly created. But Dumbledore knew none of this; as far as he knew, Tom Riddle simply had always been a brilliant wizard with a black soul.

Dumbledore's mind turned from the future of Voldemort, to the Potters. Oh, he was so relieved no one was killed, and now he knew who the Chosen One was. His plan had played out even better than he could have possibly hoped. His plan, his chance to give the world a reprieve of the monster, had come to him after the Prophecy was made to him by the potential Divination teacher. The meeting had been in his office, not in the Hogs Head as he had told the Potters and Longbottoms. Why would he conduct the interview in the top room of a pub when the heavily warded castle of which he is Headmaster of is but 5 minutes away? When he heard the prophecy, his first emotion was fear. After all, a wizard who is the Dark Lord's equal, a Dark Lord who had undergone horrific rituals to increase his magical power? It was potentially catastrophic if such a child was not properly guided, and obviously it must be him that was the guide; his ego, well-earned though it may be, and his need for control dictated that much. The "power the Dark Lord knows not" was also cause for concern. Voldemort had travelled the world, learning lost and forbidden magic. If he didn't know it, what was the prophesised power? Dumbledore did not like unanswered questions.

And so his plan had been hatched. He wiped Trelawney's memory and told her that something urgent had come up, and he would need to reschedule the meeting for a few days' time at the Hogs Head Inn. He made sure that information reached the necessary ears and then waited. When the time came for the meeting to take place, he waited for a low level Death Eater to be within earshot, and then used a compulsion charm and a voice altering charm to make Trelawney recite the first part of the prophecy. Now, once Severus had relayed the prophecy to his master, Voldemort would be focussed solely on the Potters and Longbottoms, not on the general wizarding populace. And he was right; there was a sharp drop in Death Eater attacks, in both the magical and muggle world.

However, he knew Voldemort must be able to get to both families – after all, if he went after one of the children and was not vanquished, well then the other child must be the child of the prophecy, and so would vanquish the Dark Lord when he attacked. The sacrifice of one or two families would save hundreds if not thousands. The thought of either family being wiped out brought an ache to his chest, but Dumbledore did not let his emotions deter him. It was for the Greater Good.

The Longbottoms reacted as expected, trusting in the words around the manor. The Longbottoms were a very old family, and their wards were extremely strong. Dumbledore knew that Voldemort would be able to break them though, so that was not a problem. The problem was the Potters, more specifically Lily. He had expected them to do as the Longbottoms did, move to Potter Manor. It was empty as James' parents had died 2 years earlier, and the wards around it were even more formidable than those of Longbottom Manor. But Lily had found an exceptionally obscure and esoteric spell: the Fidelius charm. That would put them out of Voldemort's reach, and that simply could not be allowed to happen. He knew there was a spy in the Order; too many details had been leaked to the enemy for there not to be. So he dedicated much of his time to finding out who the traitor was, so he could ensure they were made the Secret Keeper. It wasn't difficult to find out, being a Master Leglimens had its uses, but he was pleasantly surprised it was Peter. He hadn't expected it to be him, being so close to the Potters, but thinking about it he shouldn't have been. Peter was a coward. It would make it easier to manoeuvre him into position though.

He knew the Potters would want to choose Sirius. Dumbledore doubted there was a pain imaginable that would make Sirius tell Voldemort the secret. James was closer than a brother, and he adored Harry more than anything in the world. A compulsion charm and a whispered word were all it took to make Sirius suggest Peter. The Death Eaters would chase him, expecting him to be the Secret Keeper. No one would suspect Peter. And thus the stage was set, and the performance went off without a hitch. Voldemort was gone, for now, and the prophesised child was revealed.

~Scene Change~

In St. Mungos, the Potter parents sat in a mixture of relief, apprehension and rage. Relief, because Voldemort was gone, he couldn't come after them anymore. Their children were safe. But this was overshadowed for the moment, because really, were they safe? The news of the Dark Lord's defeat at the hands of Jack had spread like Fiendfyre, and now the more fanatical Death Eaters would want revenge. Bellatrix Lestrange was a big worry, along with her husband and brother in law. The rage was still raw and pulsating though, in the quiet of the waiting room it seemed to grow and twist in their guts until it was all they could feel. Peter had betrayed them. The man who James had thought of as a brother, who he would have died to protect, the boy who had been with them on those nights of the full moon, riding around on his back so he wasn't trampled. He had protected him from the Slytherins who would attack him, comforted him his father died. He and Lily had both spent hours helping him, James with the Animagus transformation and Lily with Charms. They thought of him as an uncle to both Harry and Jack. And yet he had betrayed them without a thought.

Sirius wasn't there; he was with Harry in the other room while he was being treated. Harry still hadn't loosened his grip on him, and it was worrying that the boy who normally couldn't stop talking to Sirius hadn't said a word. They knew enough about trauma to know it would take a while for him to get back to normal. He might never be completely the same.

Jack was being examined by a team of specialists to try and work out what had happened, how Voldemort had been defeated. They weren't allowed in there with him as their magical signatures could interfere with the spells being used to try and make sense of any magical residues left behind, and it was killing them. The specialists had wanted to look Harry over as well, but healing him was more important and the healing spells would make an examination useless. Abruptly, the door to Jack's room opened and the team of specialists filed out muttering to themselves under their breath, while the Head Healer came towards them, an affable smile on his tired looking face, though his eyes showed frustration.

"Healer McDonald, Head of the Unknown Magical Maladies division. We've looked him over and frankly, we have no idea what it is exactly, or what caused it. The magic is far too pure to be any sort of spell, there is no intent to it, no clear purpose. There may have been more signs, but those have deteriorated in the time between now and then. It was fading far quicker than I have seen before."

"Is he going to be okay?" Lily cut in, an impatient look on her face. This was all interesting and any other time she would have wanted to talk more about it, but this was here child for Merlin's sake!

An abashed expression flitted across before it was replaced with the professional and friendly mask he was wearing before.

"Yes, yes he's fine. Totally normal." 2 relieved sighs escaped the two parents, but Healer McDonald carried on. "The magic is no way harmful, like I said there was no intent, but he doesn't seem to be the source, although we can't be sure. It is more guesswork on our part because of how fast it faded. His core is still pretty full, no more diminished that any other child would be after a traumatic incident. There was definitely some accidental magic, but from the amount of magic used we think it was to prevent him breathing in smoke. With the amount of magic that he was left in his core, either his recovery rate is faster than any wizard's has been before, or he wasn't the source."

Their fears alleviated, they shook the Healer's had and walked towards Jack's room, turning around to the sound of rapid footsteps coming down the corridor.

An amused shout of "Nymphadora" echoed down the hall as a blur of rapidly changing hair colours shot down the corridor towards the room Harry was in, followed by the relieved and smiling face of Andromeda Tonks.

~Scene Change~

After a calming draught, Harry was slowly coming out of his shock, much to Sirius' relief. He still hadn't let go, but he wasn't holding quite so tightly – Sirius now had feeling in his hands again. His hands and abdomen where the ceiling beam had pinned him down were covered in burn salve, and one of his ribs had been cracked by the weight. A simple charm had fixed that, at the time the only response was a gasp of pain as the bone knitted itself together. His broken leg had been vanished to stop the pain and so they could stop the bleeding, but he couldn't be given Skele-Gro until the calming draught was out of system – the ingredients when mixed could give them pretty nasty results.

Without warning, the door burst open and 6 year old Nymphadora Tonks bounded in and launched herself at Harry, who had to let go of Sirius to catch her. She was babbling excitably at finally seeing her best friend again, her hair cycling through colours at a rapid pace, and Harry just wrapped his arms around her and smiled, a far cry from the withdrawn boy of a few moments before. That was not something unusual though, she always brought him out of his shell.

Andromeda appeared in the doorway, clearly out of breath chasing her daughter through the corridors, and looked at Sirius, communicating silently like how they would as children to avoid the ire of their family. After a few seconds of eye contact, they rolled their eyes in unison and turned back to watch the happy reunion. By this point Nymphadora had calmed down and they were simply clutching to each other as if they would disappear if they let go for even a second. Nymphadora leaned onto Harry's leg and it jiggled like jelly; at her horrified expression both Sirius and Andromeda had to stifle a chuckle, while Harry didn't bother and giggled loudly. Her face took on an affronted look with a childish pout, before she too broke and the two of them were cackling madly. Once their laughter had subsided, they remained laying on the bed quietly, hands intertwined, with Nymphadora's clothes covered in burn salve from Harry. Luckily it had pretty much healed by now, otherwise getting jumped on would have hurt.

"Missed you, Nymmie."

"Missed you too."

The sudden emotion in their young voices made both adults slightly teary, although Sirius would never admit it. As the breathing of the two children on the bed evened out, Andi took a seat next to Sirius and cast a silent privacy charm to avoid waking them, a teasing smile on her face.

"How's parenthood, Siri?" It was her usual greeting when she saw the two of them, but instead of the normal pleased yet embarrassed smile and stammered retort, he looked fondly at Harry before replying.

"Bloody terrifying." At Andi's look, he elaborated. "No, I don't have any illegitimate children Andi, if that's what you're wondering. When I was sprinting out of Hogwarts after James and Lily, in my head that was my son in danger, not my godson. That one thought was all I had going on in my mind; Jack never even came into it. Don't get me wrong, I hope someday to find someone to start a family with, but right now I've got Harry and I'm having trouble thinking of him as anything other than mine."

"I think the feeling might be mutual, going by the way he interacts with you and with James. With James he has always seemed more reserved, as if he is restraining himself slightly. His smile doesn't seem quite so bright, but then the only times he truly smiles is with you or with Nymphadora." The look on Sirius' face was one of confliction; elated of the possibility, but the fact that Andi was right, that Harry rarely truly smiled away from him and Nymphadora brought a haze of sadness. It was an unfortunate truth that quiet, introverted children like Harry hid themselves from all but a select few.

Soon after, the Potters came to check on their other son briefly, before returning to their youngest after seeing both Sirius and Andi were watching over him. Once the calming draught had run its course and it was safe to give Harry the Skele-Gro, the Tonks left, but only after Nymphadora had punched Sirius for calling her by her full name. Harry was the only one allowed to call her anything other than Tonks, even though her mother did anyway. They had also extracted promises to see them the next day, after Harry's leg had been regrown.

The next morning, the Potters plus Sirius, who had refused to leave Harry, were ready to leave St Mungos. When they reached the lobby where the Floos were, they realised just being able to leave was a fool's hope. Shouting journalists and camera flashes were all they could see, Jack was crying but Harry was even worse – He was pale and had the look of a caged animal, Sirius could even feel his racing pulse through his hold on Harry's wrist. Turning around and walking quickly back around the corner while James and Lily answered the questions of the yelling reporters, he tried to calm Harry down, who by now was shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. By the time James and Lily had escaped, Harry was no longer quite so panicked, although he was still pale. Now that the vultures had left, they made quickly for the floo to go to Potter Manor. With the cottage destroyed, the Potters would move there until they decided what to do; though given the fact there were countless Death Eaters still out there, behind the ancient wards was the best place to be for the foreseeable future.

Exiting the floo in the large entrance hall of the estate, the Potter crest displayed proudly on the opposite wall, all the adults seemed to slump in relief at being in definite safety for the first time in months. Or they did, until they noticed Harry sweating profusely, gasping for air. James called for a house-elf and demanded a calming and sleeping draught, while Sirius tried to calm him down like he had at the hospital to no avail. Only after he had been given the draught did he relax and fall asleep, and Sirius scooped him up and carried him to his room while Lily cooed to Jack, who had started crying.

"Make sure you leave the door open!" Lily called after him, and at Sirius questioning look told him she would explain in a minute. Once Sirius had returned and Jack was settled in a conjured crib in the living room, she glared at Sirius until he stopped bouncing his knee; an irritating habit he had when he was agitated.

"I think Harry has a fear of feeling trapped. First in the lobby when the reporters were encircling us, and again after the floo, he looked terrified. "

"Will he be okay?"

"I'm no expert on this James. But in time, he should be."

By the time the Tonks family came round later that day, Harry was back to normal and the adults watched fondly while they bolted around the house, exploring the various rooms. It was the Tonks' first time there and Harry would have been too young to remember the last time he was there before his grandparents passed.

Andromeda, being a Black, had seen her fair share of opulence growing up, going to various balls and high society parties in the manors of wealthy purebloods. But even she was in awe of the sheer wealth on display. Polished marble statues and suits of armour glimmered in the summer light that flooded through the wide bay windows that looked out onto the extensive grounds, the vast lake in the distance shone like a celestial mirror. Luxurious carpets in the family areas transitioned seamlessly into ebony wood floors in the entrance hall, where the stairs split into two to ascend the east and west wings of the second floor. The gold framed portraits that lined the walls seemed to have a permanent warm smile on their faces, a contrast to the perpetual arrogance on the faces of most wealthy purebloods, and would always try to help out their family members. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings with curled bronze lamps jutting from the dark wood walls, the lights from their candles flickering against the polish.

The Potters were an incredibly old family that had arrived with the Romans long before the time of Merlin. Caelius Potitius, a Roman Legatus, had fallen in love with an English woman, and had been allowed to leave the army and stay with his then wife after he was grievously injured in a battle. Despite being magical, healing spells were not as advanced at the time, their understanding of human anatomy less complete, and his injury could not be fully healed. The family name had evolved into Potter over the following years, and the gold earned and plundered throughout Caelius' military career made the Potter family wealthy from the start. And that had only grown since, through legitimate means as well as ill.

In the days of Merlin and later the founders, the Potters had been extremely influential, using their gold to help the people at the same time as stealing from their enemies. It was a widely known, though not officially confirmed, that there had been a marriage between the Potter and the Gryffindor families, but no one knew if that made them the direct heirs. After all, most of the pureblood families in Britain were probably related to the founders in some way, though distantly. Unfortunately for the Potters, the only way to gain the headship of the House of Gryffindor, and therefore the knowledge and gold stashed away in their vaults, was by finding the legendary sword and being deemed worthy of the title. They had searched for centuries, but none had found it.

The House of Potter had helped found the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot, and so had permanent seats on the body, though it was not always occupied. In the Wizengamot, the Potters held little power, choosing to focus more on their business interests and maintaining their wealth, leaving the politics to the other Ancient families.

Ancient they may be, but there were several houses older than theirs, though most were extinct. The Blacks and Notts were two of the few still remaining, the Blacks being an ancient Celtic family widely known for the mastery of the darker aspects of magic, hence their name. No one doubted the name had been chosen at some point centuries ago, to remind others of the danger they posed, and that challenging them would be unwise.

A fond smile on their faces as the sound of stomping footsteps and childish laughter filled their ears and Jack squirmed slightly in his mother's arms, they could only hope that things in their family would remain as they were.

A/N: To jslee102, I originally wanted Sirius to raise him, but couldn't figure out a way to do it and have Harry turn out the way I wanted him to. As for how he ends up at the Dursleys, that's a little later on. Hopefully what I'm going for is good and believable, but I'll leave that decision up to you. As always, thanks for the review!