Prologue
11th December 1980.
It was a frigid night just outside London, the skies clear, the moon just beginning to wane. Silver white lights twinkled on trees and wreathes of pine and holly adorned doors. It was late, past the witching hour, when a lone figure appeared on the corner of a very ordinary looking street. After a brief moment, as though to assess the surrounding area, the figure moved swiftly towards a house set back slightly from the road, a bright blue car parked in the drive.
Reaching the front doorstep, illuminated by a small porch light, the figure used one gloved hand to push the hood of her black wool cloak back slightly from her face. The woman, barely out of her teens, had alabaster skin and dark chocolate hair swept away from her face. Her almond shaped eyes had an unusual lilac hue to them, surrounded by long dark lashes. There was no doubt that she would have been considered beautiful had those eyes not been rimmed with red, although they were dry of tears. Cradled in her arms, swathed in a thick cream blanket, slept a tiny pale baby.
Raising a hand gloved in black leather the woman rapped on the door. Her eyes drifted to the child afraid that the loud noise would wake her, but the baby slept on. When there was no response she rapped on the door again, harder this time, and for longer. A desperate plea to the residents. After several moments of silence a light flicked on in one of the upstairs windows and the woman let out the soft sigh of a breath she had not realised she was holding. The baby didn't stir. A downstairs light followed, and shuffled footsteps could be heard approaching the doorway. The door was cracked open by a man, bathed by the light from the staircase behind him. He wore stripped pyjamas, mostly covered by a dressing gown, and a pair of tattered brown slippers.
"What could possibly be so urgent at this time of night?" His voice was low; he didn't want to wake the neighbours. His brown eyes drifted from the face of the stranger at the door to the child cradled in her arms. He opened the door slightly further. If he thought her mode of dress was unusual he offered no indication of such.
"Please Mr Granger." The woman also spoke in a hushed voice, but pain was evident in her tone. "Minerva McGonagall told me you and your wife cannot have a child. She told me you would be good parents, that you would love my daughter, protect her, as your own." The look on the young woman's face was the picture of desperation. "Please. She is safer in your world than ours." She stepped closer to the door still; the look in her eyes was wild and panicked.
At his name the man let go of the door completely and it swung open. He adjusted the belt on his dressing gown and, stepping towards the pair, looked down longingly at the baby. He reached out, hesitantly, to smooth a curl of brown hair on the child's forehead.
"She is a…" he paused and looked both ways out of the house, as though he expected his nosy neighbours to be listening, "…witch?"
The woman nodded her head, her beautiful face pinched with pain.
"Minerva will contact you in the morning." The woman stopped, clearly attempting to compose herself, as she cradled the child to her chest. "You will take her? Please."
Mr Granger nodded in the affirmative. He looked, if it was possible, both confused and in awe.
"Goodbye little one." She whispered, gently laying the baby into the man's arms, tears now spilling down her pale face. "Ma ma loves you." She bent to kiss the child's forehead with a pained look. "Pa pa loves you." She placed another kiss on the little girl's tiny nose; the child stirred but did not wake.
As the man closed the door, babe in arms, the young woman turned to leave. For a moment she lingered on the doorstep, bringing her gloved hand to her mouth and stifling a sob. Then she seemed to steel herself, raising her head proudly, adjusting the hood of her cloak to shadow her face once more and sweeping back onto the street. When she reached the corner she glanced back over her shoulder to the Granger's house. Then, with a crack, she was gone.