THE ABANDONED CHILDREN OF HOGWARTS

Summary: Harry has just discovered she's supposed to sacrifice herself to kill Voldemort. She's still in Dumbledore's office when she makes a wish and without meaning to, her wish creates a new world. A world in which Dumbledore was never able to go around the Blood Pact and Grindelwald was never defeated. A world where Tom Riddle is born the 31st of December 1979 and Severus Snape the 9th of January 1980. On Halloween night 1981, the Wizarding World celebrates Jamie Potter, the boy-who-lived, while a little girl is left on the steps of an orphanage, unaware of her real identity. FemHP/TMR/SS. FemHarry is not the Girl-Who-Lived.

I've decided to change this story a little. Even though a lot of what I had in mind for this story will remain the same, some things will be different for obvious reasons, including the fact that Tom, FemHarry and Snape have the same age in this story and will grow up together. I've always wanted to write a story like this so here I am. I'm obsessed with Snape and Tom Riddle so I couldn't not write something like this sooner or later. I'm not going to spoil much more than that. Hope you like it, tell me what you think!

(Yes, a lot of the prologue of this story is similar to the prologue of my other story 'Tabula Rasa' but that's the extent of the similarities between the two stories.)

Prologue

Hogwarts Castle – 2nd May 1998, Original World

Harry found herself once again in Dumbledore's office, lying on the carpet and staring at the ceiling in shocked silence. She had just finished watching Snape's memories and finally, the truth had been revealed. She was an Horcrux and she was supposed to sacrifice herself so that Voldemort would finally die.

Harry stood up on uncertain feet, trying to come to terms with all the revelations Snape's memories had brought upon her. Dumbledore had betrayed her, playing a long, complicated game of chess not only with her life but with several others like Snape's. She imagined he had told himself it was for the greater good and maybe it was but…how could he live with himself, manipulating people's lives, using their guilt against them, controlling them like puppets?

Of course, it didn't matter right now. Dumbledore was dead, Snape was dead and soon, she and Voldemort would be too.

A mirthless laugh left her lips. Was that it then? Had her mother and father really sacrificed their lives so that she could have just a few more years to live and then end her life as a willing sacrificial lamb? It wasn't fair. But, of course, when had life ever been fair to her? She had never been the master of her own fate. Since before she was born, other people had decided who she was supposed to be. Was it really so strange then that she wasn't even free to decide how she was going to die?

Harry looked around Dumbledore's office one last time, trying to prepare herself mentally for what was to come. All the portraits were sleeping, except for Dumbledore's. He was suspiciously absent.

She knew that the more time she would spend mulling over what she was supposed to do and the less courage she would have to actually do it.

And yet, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering, from wondering how things could have gone so wrong. She didn't want this, she never did. She never asked to be the girl-who-lived, never asked to be the person destined to kill the darkest and most powerful wizard in the last century. She was only seventeen. She was too young to die.

She wished the responsibility of killing the Dark Lord had never fallen on her shoulders. She wished so many things.

She wished she had never been the girl-who-lived, the Chosen One of the prophecy. Why her? Why not Neville or someone else?

She wished Sirius had never gone to Azkaban. She wished he had been granted a trial and that everyone had discovered he had never been the Potters' secret keeper.

She wished she had more time. More time to live. Even more time with Snape. She had known him for seven years and yet, she had never known him at all.

How would have things gone if they had been the same age, if she had been the one Snape had befriended as a child and not her mother. Harry would have never abandoned a friend the way her mother had done with Snape. Perhaps it was because she had so few true friends to begin with, and none before Hogwarts, but she couldn't imagine dropping someone she had befriended since she was nine, like he was a burden she couldn't wait to get rid of, not after one single insult.

How many times had Ron abandoned her? How many times had they argued? And yet, they had always found their way back to each other. That was what true friendship meant. Was her mother ever truly Snape's friend, she wondered. Had Snape wasted his life on the memory of a person who didn't cherish him the same way he had cherished her?

And what about Tom Riddle? She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Tom had someone growing up, a friend who could understand what it was like to be an orphan, abused by muggles for things he couldn't control. Would Tom Riddle have turned out the same way if he had had a friend to share his miserable childhood with? Someone just as talented and powerful as he was, but more friendly and open-hearted? Someone he could really consider his friend?

I wish we had grown up together, the three of us. The abused, abandoned, half-blood children who had found a home at Hogwarts. How different would things have gone if we were the same age, starting Hogwarts at the same time.

Suddenly, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. A cabinet door – not the one containing the pensieve but another one – was slightly ajar and something inside of it was…glowing?

Harry came closer, unable to resist her curiosity. What she found inside was…another pensieve? But no, this one was different from the one she had just left. It still looked like some kind of basin but it wasn't made of stone but some kind of black glass-like material. It was perfectly polished and shone when the light hit it. Harry thought it could have been obsidian but she wasn't sure. Engraved on the black surface were tiny runes she didn't recognize, looking nothing like the runes she had studied in class. Inside the runes there was a strange blue liquid. It didn't look like the silvery substance memories were made of. This looked completely liquid, almost transparent except for this strange blue tint. That was the source of the glowing.

Harry knew that she was probably wasting time. That she needed to go, do her duty and save the wizarding world; that she couldn't stay there any longer, especially snooping around things that could very well be dangerous. But there was something about this thing that was…calling to her. That was probably another reason why it wasn't a good idea for her to even be close to that thing.

Like usual, though, her recklessness and her curiosity won out and she extended her hand forward. Her palm touched the black surface and immediately the runes started to glow blue like the liquid inside the basin.

She felt her palm burning but she couldn't move the hand away from the strange occurrence. Then a peculiar, warm wind rose up around the room, moving objects around and throwing things on the floor. Harry was frozen in place, unable to move away and knowing that she had set something in motion and terrified to know what.

Then the wind rose higher until she felt like it was a living thing, squeezing her chest and blocking her lungs. The pain in her hand became unbearable and she cried out but the noise of the wind was so strong in her ears that she couldn't even hear her own voice.

Then, everything quieted. The wind stopped, the pain in her hand was gone and Harry found that she could move. She immediately retracted her hand and observed her palm. Something had been carved on her hand. It was black like a tattoo and it looked like a circle. However, she could see the head of a snake biting its tongue and knew immediately that what was in her palm wasn't a simple circle but an ouroboros. She frowned, confused and scared.

When nothing happened for long minutes she breathed a sigh of relief but then, both the strange black pensieve and her own palm started to glow blue once again. In a second that burning sensation that she had felt on her palm was back but it soon extended all over her body. The pain was immeasurable. Harry felt like every single particle in her body was tearing itself from the other. She looked as her own hand started to disintegrate in front of her, then her arm. She screamed until she had a mouth to use and then everything went black.

Godric's Hollow – 31st October 1981, New World

"It's him." Peter heard James' voice, frantic and scared, coming from downstairs. "Lily, take the children and ran." Then a door slumming open. Heavy steps on the carpet. More delicate footsteps running up the stairs.

"Where is it, Potter?" The Dark Lord asked, voice pleasant and deceptively calm.

"I don't have it," James snarled in reply. "And even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you."

"Very well. Avada Kedavra." The Dark Lord pronounced in a voice that sounded almost lazy, bored. Peter winched at the noise of James' body hitting the floor. His guilt was a gnawing monster in his chest.

But there was still something he could do. He couldn't do anything for little Jamie or Lily. They were dead already, it was just a matter of time. But his goddaughter…he could still save his goddaughter. No one knew about her existence. No one but him, James and Lily. Not even Dumbledore or Sirius or Remus. And not the Dark Lord either, which was what mattered most. He had betrayed James and Lily already, but he told himself he wasn't really betraying Grindelwald. Grindelwald was after all only after James and little Jamie. He didn't care about Lily and he didn't know about Jade. Peter could still save her. He just needed to be quick.

He grabbed the little bundle from the crib and apparated away just as Lily was opening the door of the nursery.

He reapparated in front of a muggle orphanage in London – the sign over the iron gate read Wool's Orphanage – feeling guilty all over again at where he was about to leave her and yet knowing she would be safe there. If Grindelwald were to win the war, he would come back to retrieve her and he would pass her off as his own child. If not, better everyone thought she was a muggleborn. Someone anonymous. Someone who had no ties to the war. She would receive her letter once she would reach eleven years old and she would be happy at Hogwarts, like her mother and father had been. It was better if no one found out who she really was, not even her.

He sighed and he was just about to lean over to leave the child on the highest step in front of the door to the orphanage when he noticed the one-year-old was awake and observing him. Oh, but she was beautiful. A tuft of dark hair on her head, bright emerald eyes and skin as pale as milk. She would be a looker when she would grow up, just like her mother.

"I'm sorry Jade, I wish I didn't have to do this. And I hope, If I survive this, that one day you'll forgive me." And with that, he put her down on the ground and with one last look her way, he disapparated.