Prologue

The Silent Samhain of 1981 was a haunted night.

The full moon hung from the skies, casting its ethereal, yellowed gaze over the woods of Godric's Hollow. Dark winds crawled across the lands, branches scratching at windows in the breeze, reminding the witches and wizards of the small village that there was something to be feared in the night.

Over the past year of rising violence, a darkness had gradually infested the magical community.

Samhain, a night that was usually celebrated loudly and brightly—with roaring bonfires and grand feasts—turned into a hushed affair. Dead or missing, there were too many absences in Magical Britain for a night of festivities.

Everyone was scared of having their name added to the growing list of victims.

Or worse, the name of someone they loved.

Thus, silently, they abandoned their traditions of honouring their ancestors and instead fervently recited invocations of protection over their households.

For the Potter Family, the Samhain of 1981 was especially foreboding; heavy with omen and reeking of a grave disquiet.

James Potter could not shake the tremors that worried his hands and Lily Potter's eyes kept vigilance at the window. They were both stewing over their son's continued safety despite the promises that the worst would not come to pass.

Months earlier, their good friend, Dumbledore, had casted spells around their house, hiding their home away and layering protection charms so thick not even the wizard himself—said to be the Most Powerful Wizard Alive—could force himself through.

To everyone else, the Potters had gone into hiding like the rest of the community to avoid the war.

To the select few that knew the truth, they were fighting a battle no parent should have to imagine.

So, despite the numerous protections, their sense of worry could not be abated.

Dark whispers of a prophecy floated around and they were both scared. The life of their newborn son was dangling in the unstable balance of the war and, it did not matter how protected their home was, the fear would not leave them until Harry was safe.

Thus, Lily and James spent that night in 1981, nauseous in their unease and stiff with apprehension. They clung to the presence of one another—terrified, but together.

Yet, unknown to them, they had already been betrayed and there was nothing left but a prophecy to be fulfilled.

With a heavy heart, the father of the household made his way upstairs. His wife was standing at the edge of Harry's crib, whispering to him stories of their past adventures.

The sight warmed his heart and for a moment James was able to forget about the omen hanging over their home.

With a flick of his wand, James sent little sprouts of dancing colours towards his son, inspiring giggles. Lily looked over at him and he could feel her love singing from her marvellous eyes and he returned the look with his own.

Closer, the new father stepped, raising his hand to stroke over the messy tufts of brown hair that his son had gotten from him.

Harry had just started to smile at him when—BOOM!—an explosion shook the house. The resounding bang of the front door being blown open was so loud that it shook the floor, causing Lily and James to stumble on their feet. Someone was yelling, there was even the sound of someone chanting— but the low voices were echoing over and over like a damnation.

"Find the Boy!" The screeching voice could be heard, even as the family panicked on the upper floor. BANGBANGBANG—their furniture was being flipped into the walls as the intruders tore through their house.

"Lily," James whispered hurriedly, a flick of his wand opening a window. "Take Harry and run!"

Their eyes met and Lily felt a sob bubble in her throat. They both knew how futile the effort would be. The only true way out of this situation was through the front door.

Realising the only other choice, James' face hardened with purpose and Lily's sobs tumbled out.

"James, please, don't" she pleaded, catching his arm and trying to stop him.

"I have to try, Lily. I have to." He stepped in close, pressing his lips to her wet cheek quickly. He took a deep breath, looking into her eyes as he decided on his last words to her. "I love you, Lily Evans. I fell in love with you the first time I saw that beautiful, dimpled smile and I knew I wanted to marry you when you knocked me on my arse in third year."

Lily cried earnestly and choked on words that would not come out. How could she say goodbye to the love of her life?

"I'll find you in our next life." James promised. "I'll wait forever for you, Lily Pad."

"I love you, I love you so much James Charles Potter. God—" All Lily could do was clutch at his shirt and pull him into her.

With one last squeeze of his wife—the only woman he would ever love—James ran from the room.

A flick of his wand sent the door closing behind him and sealed it with a sheen of blue light.

James made his way downstairs as quickly as he could, hoping that it wasn't as many wizards as it sounded and that he could take out some of their son's would-be murders.

That would give Lily and Harry a chance, at the very least. Just giving them a chance of a future beyond this night was worth every sacrifice.

When he stopped on the landing and caught the sight of one intruder, running through his home, James fired out a spell with no words, determination amplifying the damage.

His unaware opponent flew into the wall and did not get up.

His next opponent ran in from the other direction, wand raised and a spell on their lips.

James deflected it swiftly before returning with a loud call of his own spell. The flash of white light hit the other wizard in the chest and knocked him through a window.

The house grew quiet then and the two bodies covered in black were still.

No more footsteps.

Until there was just one, tiny creak at the edge of his peripheral.

From the corner of his eyes, James saw billowing black robes and a pale face. Horror grew quickly in him.

The Death Eaters wouldn't send meaningless subjects to complete this job alone. A prophecy this big had to be handled directly and perfectly. And who better to do the job than the Dark Lord himself.

James could not think through the terror that gripped him, but his wand drew without hesitation.

For Lily.

For Harry.

"Stupefy!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

THUD

Lily squeezed her baby to her chest when she heard the echo of the killing curse.

She closed her eyes tightly, the flash of the green light under the door being too much for her to handle.

She would die as a widow, she realised.

Then, Harry would die as an orphan shortly after.

She looked down at her son then, wiping away the tears that dripped from her cheeks onto his.

Her beautiful boy who stared back at her with her own eyes.

The burden of her husband's death turned her very being, but still, the mother of Harry Potter was no weak woman.

Foolishly, she had no wand on her person, but she spent half of her life without one and she would be damned before she'd lay down and die.

Carefully, she set Harry back into his crib and waved her hand at the room, wandlessly moving furniture.

After piling what she could in front of the door, Lily turned to her young son and tried to smile.

Harry was so unaware of the danger, blinking up at her innocently, and she tried desperately to memorise the sight of him.

She leaned over him, running the backs of her fingers over his baby-soft cheeks.

With tears flowing down her cheeks and cemented grief tightening her chest, Lily whispered to her son.

"I love you so much Harry, so, so much." A sob tried to interrupt her but she pressed on.

"You're going to be a great wizard and everyone is going to love you so much. You'll be better than your father and I ever were." she promised him, lies gentle and calm from her lips like a soothing riverbend.

"You'll be the best of both of us."

All Harry could do was blink unknowingly back at his grieving mother, his hands reaching out to be picked back up—the last request he would ever make of Lily Potter.

With a silent spell, the protection her husband had left behind exploded. The door to the room burst open, scattering the furniture around the room.

The purest of evils hovered at the threshold.

She swiftly turned to the pale figure sheathed in black, a hardened look in her eyes despite the wetness fresh upon her cheeks.

A being of chaos and malevolence stood before her but Lily would not cower. She would be strong in front of her son.

The first thing the monster did was offer her a chance. Move out of the way and she would have her life.

The anger in her was so great, it felt as if suddenly everyone she had lost to this war was standing behind her, igniting a fire in her chest. A phoenix had been reborn in her.

The Dark Lord was guilty of many crimes but his greatest crime on that night was entertaining the idea of Lily Potter giving up her son.

The thought reinforced her determination.

She stood firm and resolute at the end of a wand; she would face her death with all the fierceness of a lion. If Harry was to die, he would die knowing the conviction of her love, something this monster of a man would never understand.

Her long, red hair spread out like an emblazoned mane behind her as a slip of moonlight illuminated the room.

The Dark Lord whispered his next spell and the tell-tale green light bathed the room in murder. A twisted smile marred his face as Lily fell to the ground.

That's when Harry began to cry.

The young babe had not known, the sounds and sight of his parents upset so foreign. But the bright flash of green hurt his eyes and when he looked up into the face of the Dark Lord, only then did Harry's cries bubble up in him.

His mother wasn't getting up and the ugly mask of the strange man scared him.

Voldemort stood over the crying boy, taking in the victory of this night.

It would be an easy kill, he had thought to himself. What hope could a defenceless child who had no idea what was happening have against Lord Voldemort?

The Dark Lord would live forevermore and never again would he have to fear death. The prophecy would never come true!

With a shout, Voldemort threw the killing curse at the boy.

Yet, the spell never hit its target. Instead, it was reflected by some unknown force and sent back at its creator. Voldemort wailed in wretched, abashed horror as he was hit with his own spell.

His biggest fear was coming true. He had welcomed his own death with the desperation in which he tried to avoid it.

CRACK!

The killing curse hit Voldemort square in the chest and sent him flying across the room. His body started to crumble, turning to dust and decaying as the curse destroyed him.

However, Voldemort could not have fallen so easily.

At the last second, his soul flared out.

This once-man had practised dark, dark magic and had split his soul so many times in the process.

So, instead of dying, Voldemort's essence fled, retreating back to the haunted objects which housed the fragments of his soul.

But, one piece stayed behind, lost and untethered.

As the last of Voldemort's body turned to ash, it made a home within the only other person in the room.

And so, Harry, surrounded by death, cried as a harsh scar formed on his forehead; the shape of a lightning bolt.

This event marked The Silent Samhain of 1981 and the end of the First Wizarding War.

But, unknowingly, it was also the beginning of the Second.


A/N: Hello everyone. I am back with a new story and this time with an OC. Patience is a Virtue is actually a revised version of an old idea that I had from 2012 lol But, because of this on-going panorama, I have so much free time on my hands and so I decided to shake off the cobwebs of some fic ideas I've had laying around. Either way, this is going to be a long, slow burn (and I mean *long* so hold on to your hats because I'm talking not until third year long) between an original character and someone from the "main" cast. There's also lots more magical lore and some canon divergence so stick around if that's your kind of thing.

As always, please review and comment. Take some guesses on the main pairing ;)

Also please stay safe, wherever you are! c: