Chapter 1: A New World

A NEW THREAT FOR THE WIZARDING WORLD?

By Betty Braithwaite

As much of the Wizarding population remembers, the last person to spread fear and uncertainty on a mass scale was none other than the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald twenty-five years ago. Leading an army comprising of countless criminals as well as many dangerous creatures, who proved themselves incredibly lethal when opposed by Muggles and wizards alike, Grindelwald's attack of Europe and the conflict that followed was both well-known and well-feared.

Eventually, with the imprisonment of Grindelwald and the defeat of his supporters, the Wizarding world breathed a sigh of relief as the worst war in modern history came to a close with the climatic duel between Grindelwald and the great Albus Dumbledore. We all thought that the worst was behind us, and while there were many tragic deaths and casualties, we began to rebuild our world anew without that threat hanging over us.

However, recent events have started to repeat history, and a new person has declared himself the Dark Lord of our society. Though his actual name remains unknown by witches and wizards throughout Britain and some have adopted the moniker of the Dark Wizard when discussing this mystery man, many have passed this so-called "Dark Wizard" off as nothing more than a lunatic who is simply trying to bring himself some glimpse of notoriety. Others, however, feel a prickle of panic, fearfully remembering back to the last time a wizard professed his wish to dominate both our world and the Muggle world.

Observing this, one question is asked more than anything else: Is this wizard truly going to replicate the terror of Grindelwald's time, or is he merely a misguided fellow who wants his fifteen minutes of fame?

"At this moment, nothing shows that the Wizarding world is in immediate danger and needs to worry about this man who calls himself the Dark Lord," says a spokesperson for the British Ministry of Magic. "We have no evidence to suggest that he and his small band of followers will follow through on the threats they have made. As such, we will continue to monitor the situation at hand, but so long as they remain with using only words and not wands, you and your families do not need to worry."

The wizard's followers, who have gained the name the Knights of Walpurgis within the community, have protested to hiding from Muggles and letting Muggle-borns into our secret world. While they have sporadically attacked several unknown Muggles in the countryside, they appear to draw the line when going after full-fledged witches and wizards. The Ministry has sent representatives to the Muggle Prime Minister to alert him to the situation and take necessary precautions, but they still stand by what they say – witches and wizards do not need to take any drastic action yet.

The Wizarding population itself seems to be split down the middle as to how to react to the announcement of this "Dark Rebellion" as people call it, and all eyes turn to the recently elected Minister for Magic Eugenia Jenkins, 63, who took over after previous Minister Nobby Leach, 52 and the first ever Muggle-born to hold office, resigned due to an illness (Many wizards and witches believe Mr. Leach's mysterious sickness to be a plot devised by several supremacist pure-bloods. See pg. 3 for further details on the conspiracy.)

While Aurors have not yet found a connection between several seemingly coincidental events that many have recently been blaming on the Knights of Walpurgis, it –

James Potter pushed the newest edition of the Daily Prophet away from him. As a general rule, he hardly ever read things as boring as the newspaper, but the article had captured his interest after he watched his father throw down the paper in disgust. His mother had also read the article, her eyes narrowing more with each line she read, so with those tantalizing hints, James had decided to break his general rule and reach for the paper that sat on the dining room table as the Potters' house-elf, Dilly, served him the usual delicious breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs.

His father, however, was past reading and was now onto his analysis of the article in question: "Ha! No wizard with half a brain believes that Nobby willingly resigned. I'd bet my life that those old parasites Abraxas Malfoy and Pollux Black had something to do with him leaving prematurely. He was actually getting somewhere with the Squibs Rights marches before those nasty, thieving –"

"Fleamont, that's enough. This is not a conversation for the dinner table," said Mrs. Potter firmly, looking pointedly at their son, several strands of graying red hair falling in front of her face.

Mr. Potter reluctantly sighed. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry, dear – it's just … how can people be so stupid? They've already attacked countless Muggles, and anybody who knows anything about those no-good, prejudicial, stuck-up –"

"Fleamont! Not in front of James!" scolded Mrs. Potter, lightly smacking his shoulder.

"But I want to know!" protested James.

It was always great fun to watch his father go off on one of his many rants, and even Mrs. Potter's disapproving glare, which clearly meant no, couldn't stop him from egging his father into spilling more.

"Have you heard anything about this guy, Dad? You know, the one who nobody seems to know his name?" asked James, pointing at the paper.

Mr. Potter looked surprised for a moment and stroked his scruffy beard thoughtfully before replying, "Well, from what I've picked up around the office lately, he does remind me of this boy who joined Slytherin right before I left Hogwarts. He stood out quite a bit way back then, especially for a first year. I overheard him showing off his Parselmouth skills to his friends several times … but I don't know – never spared him much thought myself after I left school. Merlin, I can't seem to remember his name though … Timothy? No, that wasn't it … it started with a 't' though. Travis? Trevor? Te – Tom! That was his name – don't remember his surname, though."

"Fleamont, I don't think Jaime needs to hear about our school days," Mrs. Potter lightly reprimanded, laying a hand on Mr. Potter's shoulder as a gentle but non-negotiable warning. Turning back to her son, she added, "Now Jaime, I want your room clean before dinner tonight."

"I don't mind it!" protested James uselessly. This was a topic he was much more familiar with.

"But I do," said Mrs. Potter sternly. "Once you get your own house, you can have your room in whatever shape you want – Merlin knows the girls will avoid that place worse than plague-infested kelpies – but until then, you do what I tell you to do."

James groaned and returned to finishing his bacon, stabbing his fork with unnecessary force while his mother returned to the kitchen, no doubt to refill her mug with the usual morning brew.

He loved his parents dearly – and he knew that they loved him too, but James could not wait until he was at the age when his parents treated him as an actual adult rather than a child. Whenever there was anything important going on, he was always shunted into the other room to entertain himself while the grownups talked about things they claimed James had no need to worry about – even if they themselves were worried. James always tried to reason with his parents, but while they gave him many things such as a new broomstick or a trip to Hogsmeade, this was the one topic that his parents refused to budge on.

It was not like temptation was easy to avoid either: his mother was the Head of the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, and both his parents were heavily involved in Magic Shield, the humanitarian organization developed during the war with Grindelwald to protect the unknowing Muggles from any wizards and witches who would otherwise attack them. Those two things together meant that the Potter household was no stranger to hosting important people. Sometimes, when Dilly was not tasked with watching over James, he would borrow his father's Invisibility Cloak and eavesdrop on conversations, but even that did little to satiate his curiosity.

Tap, tap, tap.

At first, James thought nothing of the noise coming from the kitchen. Letters were very common occurrences since his parents were such a big deal in the Wizarding community, but then he heard his mother's surprised voice call him from the kitchen.

"Jaime, your Hogwarts letter is here!"

Considering that James had been waiting eleven years to hear those words, it was no surprise when he bolted up from his place at the dining room table, all previous thoughts instantly vanishing from his head, and he dashed into the kitchen, where his mother was waiting with a very proud smile on her face.

"Where is it? Where? Can I have it?" demanded James, his eyes hungrily searching the kitchen for the piece of parchment. When Mrs. Potter frowned at him, James hastily added, "Please!"

Mrs. Potter tsked him for the rudeness, but she nonetheless yielded his Hogwarts letter, and James snatched away the envelope in a flash. He barely paid attention to the address as he tore the top of the envelope off, yanking out the letter within, almost ripping it as well in his haste before his mother warned him to be careful. James did not care; if it did end up getting shredded in his haste, his parents could always repair it. Besides, there was only one thing it could be, but nonetheless, James roughly unfolded it to start reading:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin: First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. James R. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Yes! I finally got my letter – Hogwarts, HERE I COME!" he yelled, punching the air before he started running through the Potter Manor.

Mrs. Potter could still easily hear him, but his shouts of joy dimmed a little bit after he rushed out of the room. She shook her head, exasperated at her son's antics – it was impossible not to think about all the trouble he would cause once he got to the castle and had his own wand to help with all those little tricks of his.

Hogwarts was going to be in for a surprise once James Potter walked through that door.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ 1971 ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

"Lily, someone at the door!"

Her mother could not have gotten Lily Evans out of her bedroom faster if she had yelled, "Fire!" The young girl sprinted down the stairs, her dark red hair flying behind her and her brilliant green eyes sparkling with nervous elation. As was usually the case when her emotions were running high, the untamed magic in her imperceptibly leaked out into the muggy July air to affect everything around her – in this case, many of the pictures on the wall vibrated from her uncontained exhilaration.

Today's the day, she could not help but think, racing for the front door of her parents' quaint house.

She and Severus had been talking about this day for months – years, really. The letter that she had waited for since the discovery of magic would finally come. At last Lily would officially be a part of the Wizarding world. There would be no more longing of the classrooms, no more dreaming of the castle; she will have already entered Hogwarts and all its magical magnificence.

When Petunia had first repeated to her mother and father what Severus had said to Lily, Mr. and Mrs. Evans just thought it was all a game; her mother was disappointed that Lily would not invite her sister to play with them, but Lily's explanations had been lost. They had not believed in the Wizarding world, but now there would be proof beyond a shadow of a doubt: she was a witch, and she was going to learn magic at Hogwarts.

Lily had just jumped the last step when she heard a voice say with the barest trace of a foreign accent, "Buenas tardes. My name is Adolfo Manumali, and this is Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am a representative of the Muggle Liaison Office in the Ministry of Magic, and Professor McGonagall teaches at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

After Mrs. Evans had fully opened the door, Lily got her first look at the magical visitors. Mr. Manumali was well into his forties, with grey hair on his temples and the rest a dark brown. Something about his features suggested a Mediterranean background. While his expression was blank with colorless eyes surveying her home intently, Professor McGonagall, wearing an old-fashioned business suit, studied Lily's parents for their reactions. Her bun was pulled up tightly without a single hair out of place.

The visitors were both calm and collected – the complete opposite of Lily's parents.

Mr. Evans looked at complete loss for words, and Mrs. Evans was equally dumbstruck. She stared at the two people as though she had never seen anything quite like them. Perhaps her mother was nervous or scared – Lily, of course, was the exact opposite. She dashed down to meet them, trying to squeeze through the blockade her parents had unintentionally created, but her father had recovered from his shock before she managed to get that far. He placed an arm in front of Lily to prevent her from getting any closer to the visitors as if he was afraid that one of them would snap and suddenly attack.

"You two need help; there is a mental institution in London," he said in a strong voice before adding, "Lily, darling, stay away from them."

Mr. Manumali was unfazed by Mr. Evans reaction, and Professor McGonagall hardly raised an eyebrow. Lily could not help but wonder how many other times a Muggle had told both him and Professor McGonagall that they were crazy lunatics. After all, not many Muggles were very familiar with the wholly different but integrated secret society that the wizards and witches of Britain had created centuries ago.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Evans, we are here for the express purpose to inform your family that your daughter here is a witch and has been offered a place in Britain's most prestigious Wizarding school. If I may…"

She withdrew a long stick of wood, and Lily felt her heart leap out of her chest at the sight of it. Two years had been spent talking with Severus about the wonders Hogwarts held while they relaxed by the edge of the river, but this was the first time Lily had seen intentional magic in action; Severus's mother never used magic because of his father.

Lily glanced back to the woman who was peering at Lily over square spectacles. The expression on her face was stern, but when she saw Lily's eagerness, her eyes softened.

Glancing back to Mr. Manumali as if to confirm that the coast was clear, Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and conjured a small lion the size of a regular housecat that sprang from the tip of her wand straight into Lily's waiting arms. She giggled as the lion purred and licked her chin, not unlike the old tabby her mother had owned when Lily was only a couple years old.

Mr. Manumali looked back to Lily's parents as she finally let the lion on the ground where it instantly vanished, curtesy of Professor McGonagall's wand.

"May we come inside?" he asked.

It must have been a lot for her poor parents to digest, but after some prodding from Lily, they finally moved – well, they sort of moved. Mr. Evans stumbled backwards in staggering, robotic steps, dragging Lily's mother along with him since Mrs. Evans's legs seemed unable to work correctly.

"Thank you for your hospitality," said Professor McGonagall, sweeping past the Evans family and into the tiny entrance area like they were old friends coming for tea.

Mr. Manumali followed and said, "Gracias. What are your names?"

It took Lily's parents several moments to that they had the ability to speak in coherent sentences, but when they finally managed to regain their voices, Lily's father stuttered, "R-Richard Evans, and this is my wife, Rose."

"You are Lily Evans, correct?"

Lily jumped at being addressed directly by Professor McGonagall. She suddenly felt as if she had been caught red-handed doing something that broke many different rules at once. It was not difficult to imagine Professor McGonagall as a teacher tough on rule-breakers – maybe she would simply turn them bright red to alert other Hogwarts teachers of the misfits – and while she was very intimidating, Lily was able to manage a small nod for her response.

Mr. Evans shifted on his feet slightly, and Professor McGonagall returned her gaze to Lily's parents. "As we said before, we've come to offer Ms. Evans a place at Hogwarts."

Mrs. Evans must have gotten over her initial shock and was now confused. "But our Lily has never applied for a different school, let alone for …" Here, she paused to choose her next words carefully, "… whatever Hogwarts does. We've signed her up for Hartlem Primary School, the same one Petunia went to. Are you sure she's the right girl?"

Lily had difficulty not rolling her eyes. It was not as if she had not been talking about Hogwarts since the day she had met Severus after all; her mother should have realized the name, but that hardly deterred her enthusiasm. Thoughts raced around her head, both past memories and future dreams: the first time she had met Severus, the flower she could control at a whim, floating candles which Severus had said covered a ceiling that was enchanted to look like the night sky, the library that was supposed to hold almost half as many books in the Library of Congress.

Suddenly September 1st seemed like it was very far away.

Professor McGonagall smiled, and Lily suspected that her mother was not the first person to ask that question.

"Very. Ms. Evans has the qualities we look for in future students. I think it would be best if we all sit down, and then I can explain."

Mr. Evans stepped aside to let the teacher farther into the house so that they were not all standing in the doorway. He turned to Lily and said, "Why don't you show our guests to the sitting room?"

Nodding and almost bouncing with excitement, Lily eagerly led the way to the large sitting room. Professor McGonagall followed and seated herself on the squashy armchair near the fire while Lily and her parents sat across from her on the sofa. Mr. Manumali wordlessly leaned against the wall with surprising grace for the older man. There was an uneasy glint in his eyes, and Lily snuggled a little closer to her mother, who reflexively put an arm around her daughter's shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze even though Mrs. Evans could not have had the slightest clue as to what was the matter.

"Ah, this must be your sister Petunia."

Lily looked up to see her sister enter the room. Her blond hair was up in a ponytail, exposing her long neck, and she looked annoyed as her pale blue eyes swept the room, taking in the strangers gracing her living room.

And just like that, Lily's mood plummeted. Her mental walls snapped up like they always did whenever Petunia was around. Two years of teasing and insults had made it impossible for her to ever be able to express herself freely around her sister. The loving bond that had once existed between the two of them was impenetrable – or so Lily had thought. Unfortunately, the days when they were true sisters were done; Lily would always hold on to the hope that they would find their way back to each other, but for now, there was nothing but the animosity she had reluctantly grown accustomed to. It was almost to the point when Lily could ignore Petunia's snide comments – almost.

"That's Tuney," acknowledged Lily, and with only a small bit of difficulty, she forced herself back to topic at hand.

The teacher nodded absently, not really interested in the interruption as she briskly continued, "Let's get right to business. As I said before, I am a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have come to offer Lily a place at our school. We have invited her because Hogwarts is a school for magic, and Lily has shown in many instances her ability to perform magic."

Professor McGonagall paused to assess Lily's parents, no doubt wondering if Mr. Evans would still insist on sending the pair to a psychologist.

"Magic," whispered Mr. Evans after a moment of silence as if it was a confirmation to the weird things she had done in the past. Lily glanced up just in time to see Petunia leave the room, although nobody else noticed. "You mean – everything that's happened … our Lilykins can do magic?"

Professor McGonagall, however, was watching Lily with a slight frown. "You don't appear as surprised, Ms. Evans, now or when we first explained it."

She hesitated slightly before answering the teacher, but she decided that it was best not to lie – Professor McGonagall could probably sniff out liars from a mile away.

"My friend Severus lives down the street," she said. "He told me several years ago after he saw me do some accidental magic. We've been talking about it ever since. I told my parents later, though they thought it was just a game at first."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "So this makes it easier that you are already familiar with our world."

"Is this what you and little Severus were always talking about? You never switched topics when you invited him over for spaghetti and meatballs – is he going to this Hogwarts as well? All this time, we never believed what you were always saying, but it's true and … oh, Lily! We are so proud of you!" squealed her mother, hugging her youngest daughter tightly.

Professor McGonagall withdrew a letter from her traveling cloak and handed it to Lily, who took it with trembling hands. This was it, the final time she would be a part of the Muggle world and the first time she would join the Wizarding one. Fingers fumbled for the seam while she noticed the green ink scrawled on the heavy parchment precisely matched her own eyes.

Ms. Lily J. Evans

Number 9, Durant Street

Cokeworth

"As you already know, Hogwarts is a school for witches and wizards to study magic. There we will teach you not only how to use it but to control it as well. Inside you will find a list of all your supplies needed and your train ticket. You can purchase your things at Diagon Alley." Professor McGonagall handed Lily a small bowl full of powder. "This is Floo Powder. All Muggle-born homes are connected to Diagon Alley during the month of August. Take this, throw it into the fire, and say very clearly 'the Leaky Cauldron'. Once you are there, ask for Tom the barman, and he will show you how to get in to Diagon Alley. Bring along some money to exchange at Gringotts, the wizard bank. To get onto Platform 9¾, walk through the bricks between Platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross Station. The train leaves at exactly 11:00 am on September 1st. At Hogwarts you will call me and the rest of the teachers at Hogwarts 'Professor.'"

Though Professor McGonagall talked at a reasonable pace, the words flew in one ear and out the other – Lily was always horrible at remembering the important things, and now that Professor McGonagall was warning her to not forget, that only made it more unlikely that she would be able to recall the information when she needed it most. When did the train leave again? What bank was she supposed to use?

"Are you going to show us?" asked Mrs. Evans. She had thankfully grabbed a spare notepad and was already scribbling away. "Which wizards at Gringotts will allow us to exchange our money?"

Mr. Manumali grinned. "You won't be exchanging money with wizards. Gringotts is run by goblins."


Note: Manumali received a first name change because Lily would eventually give Slughorn a fish whose name was Francis, and if it remained the same, it would be weird.

Admittedly, Magic Shield is a totally made-up thing, but I wanted James's father to do something other than just make hair potions. I kind of think of them as a mix between the Red Cross and the UN peacekeepers.