Butterfly Wings

(read intro)

There are many things today that we as humans regret. There are many things, we wish never happened or that somehow we can redo. Some may say that things happen for a reason, and I believe that too, but in our own world, we are allowed to dream, we are allowed to change what we want and to create our own reality, one which we live in one which we prosper. One event can change the course of history, one altered change in the past can affect many lives, and this is the one event that did and of course the story that follows….

"The beat of a butterfly's wings can change the course of a typhoon halfway across the world." –unknown

Chapter 1: A Wrinkle in Time

Prologue:

We all know of the story of the Marauders. We have heard it told in many different ways, with many different characters, yet we somehow do not have the faintest idea how the past really was. Unfortunately we may never know, of course we can take stabs at it, write it how we view the world, we may become close, yes, but we may never hit it exactly. If you clicked on this link expecting your questions to be reveled you have surely made a mistake. This is how I believe reality should have been, I have my butterfly wings, this story is my typhoon.

March 13, 1968

If you happened to be walking through the famous gardens of the Potter Mansion and just happened to look up into the highest room on the second tallest tower of the very mansion itself, at precisely 11:47 p.m. you would be able to see the weary yet shining face of Elizabeth Potter.

At the time she was vaguely listening to her husband, Henry, who was ticking of a million or so reasons as to why their baby hadn't been born yet.

The nice and optimistic healer from St. Mungos had clearly explained to them a month ago that their child would be born Saturday March 12, obviously she had been mistaken for it was already Sunday and no sign of him. Mrs. Potter longed for a way to silence her husband's ramblings and was twiddling her wand in between her fingers debating with her self whether or not she should, when the perfect excuse made its presence known.

Had you been looking in that very window at that very precise time you would have seen a pained expression cross Mrs. Potter's face and if you had impeccable hearing you would have heard her sharp, frantic call to her confused ranting husband.

"Henry! It's time"

"Huh? What do you mean it's time? Time for what? Lizzy?!?!" Mr. Potter had clearly not caught on yet. If you had remained looking up into the highest window of the second tallest tower hoping to catch more of their conversation, you would have seen a dawning comprehension cross Mr. Potter's face as he muttered a small almost inaudible "oh" and then rush to get his wife's things, preparing to take her to St. Mungos. Finally the time was here, he was ready, he could handle this.

12:21 a.m. Monday, March 14, 1968

Henry Potter was nervously pacing outside his wife's room at St. Mungos, when the frazzled nurse that had been dealing with Mr. Potter ever since Elizabeth arrived, finally stepped out into the hall with a broad smile on her face.

"Mr. Potter, it's a boy."

Without waiting for a reply, the nurse stepped aside as Henry rushed inside to be next to his wife and his new baby boy. After the five minutes that Mr. Potter was allowed to gawk at his beautiful wife and his handsome son, the doctor stepped in and asked if they had chosen a name yet.

"Yes, we have…" Mrs. Potter replied quickly dismissing the quizzical look that she was receiving from her husband at the moment. "His name is James Henry Potter." As soon as she said this Mr. Potter beamed and looked proudly upon his new son.

If you were familiar with the wizarding world, names such as "Potter", "Black", and "Malfoy" often rang a bell. Some struck veins of fear and cleaned them dry, others unlocked vaults of hope. But with every fear, every dark family, there is a silver lining.

It was a night of tense waiting at the "Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." No one dared to disturb Mrs. Black as she paced up and down the hallway by the door; she had a habit of snapping at anything and anyone that got in her way. Mrs. Black was not a very patient person to begin with, and to add even more to her impatient-ness, her son was over a week late. He was supposed to be born a week ago, a week ago and he still wasn't here. And to make matters worse, she had been hoping for a girl, all of the rest of the family with the exception of a few distant cousins had been male, and she was lonely-ish. She just hoped that her new son would make the family proud and not be a failure like that wretched girl Andromeda. Now don't get confused, the poor girl had yet to do anything wrong for she was only a year old, but once glance into her eyes convinced Mrs. Black, if no one else, that she would grow up to betray this esteemed family.

All of a sudden her face contorted with pain and her screams could be heard throughout the entire mansion. Mrs. Black held no subtly whatsoever, none of the Blacks ever did, even those few muggles that passed by the hidden house heard a faint yelling but dismissed it when they found no source for the awful rattling noise.

Quickly after her contractions began her tired husband soon found the source of the yelling, and began to usher her over to their fireplace, all the while frantically searching for their floo powder. They soon found it and were on their way to St. Mungo's hopefully to end their family of this annoying burden. Never had the Blacks had to wait for ANYTHING, ever.

10:45 p.m. Wednesday, March 16, 1968

Mr. Black sat quietly (subtly and quietness never expected from a member of the Black family, the nurse was surprised) praying that his wife would have their son so he could go home and rest for a while, and cease to listen to her complaining.

Suddenly the nurse burst through the door to the ward Mrs. Black was currently staying in holding a bundle of blankets with a baby's head poking out of it.

"Sir," the witch timidly asked the man sitting in the chair outside. If he was anything like his wife inside, she had to be careful, especially if he ended up having his wand with him. The mother thankfully seemed to have forgotten her wand in rush to get to the hospital.

"I have your son right here; your wife named him, his name is Sirius Orion Black. Would you like to hold him?" The nurse didn't wait for an answer and gently but with a sense of firmness placed the bundle into the somewhat proud hands of the father. The nurse was surprised at the lack of emotion that he showed; she had just finished dealing with the Potters, this was a whole new observation. Apparently every man wasn't as happy as Mr. Potter was.

Mr. Black just looked into his son's eyes, believing he was holding another Black that was as mixed in the pure blood mania and Dark Arts as he was, not knowing he was looking at the child who would grow up disowned from his family, and seek his family in the very household he despised beyond almost anything else. Mr. Black let himself believe that, even though something was different, and he failed to understand that the Black Family tree would forever be in peril because of the bundle before him.

11:05 a.m. Sunday, April 3, 1968

Mr. Jason Lupin waited patiently outside of ward 132 on the first floor of the very crowded St. Mungo's Hospital. His beautiful wife was inside the ward in front of him hopefully holding their precious new baby. It didn't matter whether it was a boy or girl as long as by the end of the day he got to hold it in his strong arms and keep it safe.

He looked up at the door as the door knob started to turn. His impeccable hearing trying to catch any mutterings from the healer through the newly made crack in the door, but there seemed to be none. As the door opened slowly he caught sight of his brand new son in the arms of the gentle healer as she carried him out to his patient father. The healer was surprised at the behavior of the man in front of her. He was like most other fathers, in that his face showed an incredible amount of pride, but the fact that he was calm, collect, and hadn't annoyed her in the slightest that caught her attention as she handed him the baby.

"Do you have a name?" The healer gently asked Mr. Lupin with a gigantic smile on her face. It took him a few moments to respond, as he had his full intention on his son.

"Remus Jonathan Lupin." He finally replied with every ounce of pride he could muster as he just stood there staring at Remus, pride and joy coursing through every cell in his body.

The Evans family was one of the more prominent families of the non magic world. Several generations of advisors to the royal family of England, as well as lawyers, doctors, and educators have all held the surname Evans.

This particular Evan's couple, our story focuses on, Rose and Richard, were both very successful lawyers, already had one very lovely daughter, Petunia, and was hoping for another one very soon.

Friday, April 15, 1968

On this particular morning in the gleaming kitchen of the Evans' Estate, our wonderful story starts. Mrs. Evans was just explaining to her husband that she needed to get to the hospital right now. Mr. Evans, who was usually very quick on the uptake of important information and even quicker in the response to such data, seemed to take hours to process what Mrs. Evans was trying to tell him.

Once he had finally comprehended what she had said, he was then found to be carrying his wife out to the passenger side door of their brand new BMW. Once he had carefully made sure she was comfortable and had secured her belongings, he started backing out of their driveway in pursuit of the nearest Hospital in Surrey.

5:07 p.m. Friday, April 15, 1968

If you were to search through history books in this day and age for events that happened to famous families in April 1968, you would probably easily find, along with details about the famous Evans family fortune, the beginnings of one Lily Anne Evans, born to Rose and Thomas Evans on April 15, 1968 at precisely 5:07 p.m. What you may not find though, was that at about 5 minutes earlier, Thomas was not-so-patiently waiting at his wife's side, holding Rose's hands as they waited for the doctor to bring their beautiful daughter back into the room. As Lily was carried into the room and placed in the protective arms of her mother, time seemed to stop suddenly as Mr. and Mrs. Evans looked into their daughter's unusually emerald green eyes that held such mystery in their depth. The ecstatic parents' eyes showed nothing short of pure joy as they looked at their daughter while the doctor silently exited the door to leave the parents alone with their new addition, as well as to retrieve their other daughter, so that she could share in this moment too. No member of the extensive and intelligent Evans family could even fathom the idea that their little girl would grow up to be one of the most intelligent witches of her time, and give birth herself to a hero, but she did.

Plump Mr. Pettigrew was at his office on the 32nd floor of his poorly run business deep in the heart of London when he received the owl telling him of his wife's condition. As soon as he read the note, he dropped the parchment on which it was written, grabbed his coat and quickly headed to St. Mungo's. All the note said was that his wife needed him and he was anxious as to why she was in the hospital, their baby wasn't to be born for another 2 months.

1:43 p.m. Monday, May 2, 1968 The Wrinkle in Time

When Mr. Pettigrew entered the ward at St. Mungo's he saw his wife lying on the hospital bed, her stomach smaller then it had been when he left for work that morning, and she in tears. As soon as he saw her crying he rushed to her side and frantically asked what had happened.

"he's…he's…he's dead…" she faintly whispered to her husband as she tried to stop her tears from cascading down her cheeks.

"Mr. Pettigrew, can you come outside with me, I'll explain everything." The sympathetic healer quietly told Mr. Pettigrew. "I'm sorry sir but apparently your wife had a miscarriage early this morning. I'm very sorry." She left Mr. Pettigrew standing shocked in the middle of the ward as she went to go attend to another patient.

The Beat of the butterfly's wings have spoken, the past has changed, the future: unknown

Hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing it, please review, as soon as I finish the 2nd chapter, ill post, but the more you review the faster I type, chao!