31/12/1925, Wool's Orphanage, Muggle London, 09:35 p.m.
Merope Riddle didn't knew what was happening, here she thought that maybe the man she loved, loved her back but as soon as she stopped giving him the love potion. He left her and now she had nowhere to go. Her will to live was feeble as it was, she closed her eyes against the bright light bulbs above her head. She could read 'Wool's orphanage' from a distance, her hands instantly came to her womb.
It's okay, child. Your mother is here with you. She hissed to the child resting in her womb.
When the doorbell rang on a cold, windy New Year's Eve, it sounded like a death bell to Mrs. Cole. Ringing at such an hour, on such a night, the bell could not mean good news.
"Get that, would you, Mary?" Mrs. Cole called to her maid. The Wool's Orphanage was too short on funds to keep a permanent maid to answer the door, so the kitchen girls and cleaners took turns with the welcoming duties. Standing there was the outline of a very pregnant young woman. She was soaked to the skin from melted snow.
"Oh, good Lord", said Mrs. Cole. "Right. Get her into a bed, then." She stepped forward and took the woman's arm; it was scrawny and weak. Mrs. Cole noticed that the woman's feet barely made a sound as she walked, despite her advanced pregnancy she could not have weighed more than eight stone. Too thin, far too thin.
A bed was soon turned down and ready. A table next to it held scissors, a basin of hot water, and a pile of clean cloths. Mrs. Cole helped the woman up onto the bed. It seemed to take all of the pregnant woman's strength and her face grew so pale that it looked bloodless. Gritting her teeth, Mrs. Cole spread the woman's legs and lifted her ragged dress, gesturing for Mary to bring the lantern for a proper look. The baby was coming, and soon the woman was well into the labor process.
The pregnant woman would not give her name nor what happened to the child's father.
The orphanage matron gave her a pitying look presuming the child's father was dead. Another contraction wracked her frame and she moaned despairingly as the matron called for her to "Push, Missus, push!"
She sucked in heavy breath. Her insides had torn with the coming of her child... slowly, steadily, she was bleeding out. She knew her birthing table would be her deathbed. "Push, Missus! Push!" She did so. For her child was important to her. "It's almost out, Missus! One more! Just one more push, alright?" Her breath was shaky, and her entire body trembled, but she nodded and at the next contraction she pushed, hard, and screamed. The room filled with the baby's cry.
"A boy! Missus, the good Lord has given you a son," said the matron.
"I hope he looks like his papa." The woman replied weakly and she wished that she had the warm hand of her husband to grip onto.
She couldn't see the child from her current position, but she could hear the healthy cry. She fought to catch her breath as she closed her eyes and shivered. If she were in the presence of witches, she knew she might survive but, she wasn't. But then there was the big question.
What could she do for her son? She had nothing to offer, no home, no money, her only heirloom sold and gone, heartbroken and homeless. She would not go back to the empty shack where she was born and raised, her father and brother would kill her child as soon as they knew who fathered it, the moment they whiffed its impure blood. No, she had nothing, could provide nothing, and it would surely be better for her child if she died here and he was raised in the orphanage.
Suddenly she remembered something, the strange man who came to her. " You were difficult to find, Merope. I am in desperate need of something."
When she met those eyes, she was caught in their emptiness, there had been no kindness in those green eyes – there was nothing at all, so flat they should have been inhuman. Merope had narrowed her crooked eyes. She frowned, puzzled. Who was this man?
"I want only your firstborn, of course." He replied.
It had seemed so silly, Merope did not take it seriously.
" I'll take him." The man said.
She wasn't allowing anyone to snatch her son from her, he disappeared suddenly with a pop, meant he was a wizard. He wanted her son. Her son. He knew something about her son, and that something, whatever it was, was behind his motivations. What was so special about her son? Was it her blood—Salazar Slytherin's blood, Cadmus Peverell's blood or something else? Of course, he might be intrigued by it or maybe he was one of the Peverell brother's descendant.
She knew her son will be safe here and loved, in this orphanage. Muggles surely weren't that bad, how her father always portrayed them.
"Tom." She murmured to the sleeping babe. "Tom for your father, and Marvolo for my father. You'll take your father's surname Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle."
The baby cried and Merope took her last breath.
"I believe we have a new member amongst us." Mrs. Cole replied smiling at the little baby. "Mary, do call the priest from the church, we must give a proper burial to the Missus." Mrs. Cole looked at the woman and caressed her hair.
31/12/1925, Peverell Manor, Wiltshire, 11:56 p.m.
"He took birth." Harry Potter or as now he was known Harrison Peverell murmured. Neville and Luna took a sip of their wine as they understood that their task began to save the Wizarding World.
In their rooms, a six year old Teddy slept not caring about anything as he was given a dreamless potion by his Godfather, so was the four years old James and the little flower of the Peverell's now known as Rose Lily Peverell.
It had been two painful months but thanks to the Goblins, who suggested that they should go to another dimension where they can change the past. All the surviving people were provided by money the Gringotts Bank had, also there were many Goblin made equipment, blades and weapons were given. People were trying to live again. Their fear and hatred for muggles had forced them to create this muggle free village, making it the second wizarding village. They knew it would be soon when the muggles will pay for what they did to the wizards and Harrison Peverell would gladly help his fellow witches and wizards.
"I wonder how we take entry into the wizarding world." Neville said thoughtfully.
"Don't worry, Neville. The nargles told me that no one had wrackspurts in their hair and we came to a year where Tom has just being born." Luna replied smiling. Harrison knew what his precious sister meant. Albus was currently no one but only a defence against the dark teacher and if what he knows is true, it will take two more years for him to discover the uses of dragon blood and then being assigned for transfiguration and at least twenty more years to become a Wizengamot member and another thirty to become the chief warlock. So, currently finding about who the Peverell's were out of question. He won't have much sources but he knew both Dumbledore and Grindelwald will try to pry on their private lives and try to harm or manipulate
"You cannot imagine how his ideas caught me, Harry, inflamed me. Muggles forced into subservience. We wizards triumphant. Grindelwald and I, the glorious young leaders of the revolution." Harrison remembered what the leader of light explained to him. He could agree with Grindelwald because he knew what it felt when the muggles snatch everything from you but he knew killing them was not a solution. It was better to separate them from the magicals and that's what Harrison intended to do. But he knew it would be a long way to accomplish his goal but he could surely count Neville and Luna with it. The plan was simple attack Grindelwald and kill him before he starts the war, prevent Albus to become head of Gryffindor and preach about how muggles and wizards were alike, save Tom from a life of misery after this things were taken care of and then he would spend his rest of life taking care of the witches and wizards who were abused by the muggles and raising his family.
"Let's change our future." Neville smiled as he caught his brother's grin.