Summary: Due to the heroic sacrifice of the Longbottoms the Dark Lord fell in 1981, the legacy of that night being a small boy hailed as a savior. Weeks later the effects were still felt in the loss of James Potter, his own death leaving behind a three-year-old son and a mark that would change the magical world forever.

Chapter One

Saturday November 21, 1981

Ravenhill – Ancestral Home of the Potter Family

A steady drizzle that had settled in the valley days ago persisted into the afternoon, the water creating endless streams as it ran it's course down the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the west hall of Ravenhill. The winter chill had already settled in and it wouldn't likely be long before the precipitation changed to snow. The peaks in the surrounding area were already white-capped and soon the green wonderland of the estate would be turned pale.

The mansion would weather it as it always did, and the wards both ancient and still pulsing with energy would see that the ancestral home of the Potters wouldn't see the worst of it. Still, the chill in the air seemed to have leeched itself deep into Lily's bones and wouldn't leave no matter how she tried to warm herself. The fire crackling merrily behind her gave nothing to her comfort, and once more she felt the hot, stinging tears well into her vision.

She'd never known a place could feel so very empty.

Harry had been silent all afternoon, hadn't spoken a word in days and had only cried quietly as his father was buried that morning. He was only three, but he was a perceptive child and had watched his hero die in front of him at St. Mungo's only a week ago. If not for the aid of Dobby and close friends Lily didn't know what she would have done. She loved her boy, she did, but with the loss of her James and everything that followed she was barely able to keep herself together, let alone keep up with the needs of a toddler.

Now she was left here, lonely in the immense Ravenhill that she hadn't seen since James' parents died. It was always going to be their home, but with the war taking it's toll and the death of his parents James couldn't stand to live in the massive manor. They'd moved to the Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow, a small and intimate place where they hoped to live out the remaining days of the war beneath the Fidelius charm. Though they hadn't known it at the time, that was a fatal mistake.

Three weeks ago, while they were celebrating Hallow's Eve in their small cottage they'd been interrupted with a message from the Order. They were told that Frank and Alice had been attacked and killed by Voldemort himself, but that he was destroyed when he tried to turn his wand on their young son. James had been quick to respond and left her at home with Harry to help in any way he could. He had returned the following morning in a daze, crippled by the tragedy of the Longbottoms and almost in a state of shock as he relayed to her the news. Voldemort was finally gone from their world.

Despite the loss of two of their greatest friends, the relief of hearing about his downfall was almost overwhelming. The monster had been terrorizing the world since they were in school, and after years of heartbreak and tragedy he was finally gone. While they hadn't celebrated like the rest of the country seemed to do, they'd held on to a quiet hope for a better future for their family.

In the two weeks that followed that fateful night, she and James took their turns working closely alongside the Order and the Ministry to help in any way they could with flushing out and rounding up the Death Eaters that were aimless without their Lord. It was finally coming to an end, and they let down their guard that they'd held up their entire adult lives. Little did they know that tragedy would strike once more.

On the evening of November 12, 1981 while she was putting Harry down to bed their house in Godric's Hollow was assaulted by four Death Eaters, only one of them bothering to wear a mask. James met them on the lower level of the cottage and did his level best to unleash hell on those who would dare attack his family in their home.

When she heard the fighting she ran to help, but James screamed at her to get Harry and get out. Lily listened, and a single, desperate slash of her wand had collapsed the remaining protections they'd put into place, allowing her the freedom to scoop up their boy and apparate to the safety of Sirius' flat. She screamed for him, her body seeming to collapse on itself as the effort needed to break the wards so quickly felt as if it nearly ripped her in half. By the time Sirius realized what was going on and went to help James it was too late. He was still alive but had been tortured for information about the Dark Lord's whereabouts. Sirius got him to St. Mungo's but he'd been cursed too badly for them to heal, some of the curses blending until they almost couldn't differentiate between them.

Lily and Harry arrived only in time for James to mutter a few words to them. He died soon after.

It'd been just over a week since that night and she couldn't seem to rationalize everything in her mind. It didn't feel real, despite having to bury him earlier in the afternoon. It felt as if he should be walking through the door any moment looking for his son to throw up into the air. To hug Lily from behind and ask how her day was. It wasn't fair.

"Lily," she heard from somewhere in the room behind her, recognizing the voice to be Albus Dumbledore. "I'm truly sorry to disturb you my dear, but once more there's been a message sent in regards to the reading."

She choked, a small but horrific sound that did very little to describe the agony she felt. "Not today," she answered. "Just please...set it up for some other day."

"Of course," he responded quietly. "I shall explain that you need more time. Would you be amenable to having them contact me to prepare the proceedings? I will, of course, notify you of any decisions or questions."

Lily nodded twice quickly, but couldn't seem to keep enough air in her lungs to actually speak more. Her chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself, and it seemed as if something was restricting her airflow. After a brief moment she seemed to get just enough composure to speak a few words. "Harry, is he..."

"Sleeping," he replied. "Dobby is watching over him currently, and Remus is nearby should he require anything."

Again she nodded, but couldn't seem to keep the guilt from clawing at her. She was supposed to be strong for him, to reassure her son that everything was going to be okay yet she couldn't seem to find the strength to actually go through with it. How could she possibly lie to him, muster up a smile and tell him how everything would work itself out? James was dead, buried and cold. Sirius had taken off after the funeral in a storming fury and nobody could contact him. Remus had already talked about how he wasn't sure if he could stick around much longer. Dumbledore would be gone by the evening back to the castle – the school term still ongoing despite the rest of the world seeming to fall apart. Their other friends were either dead or in hiding, rightfully fearful that what happened to James would happen to them as well.

Everything was falling apart, and she didn't feel like she was strong enough to hold it all together.

"You need to rest, my dear." Albus said gently. "I cannot begin to comprehend the nature of your suffering, but you've barely closed your eyes these last days. I took the liberty of procuring a sleeping potion from Horace. It's in the kitchen, along with a small meal and some water. I ask that you please take advantage of them. Perhaps in the light of a new day your burdens may seem slightly more bearable."

Realizing that he was likely preparing to leave, Lily exerted herself to finally make her request. "The...the portrait," she said, her lips trembling. "Can you...would you please...?"

"I shall place it in stasis, if you would like, until you are ready to decide otherwise. Would you like for me to move it?"

She shook her head rapidly, unsure if such a thing were even possible and unwilling to try.

James' portrait was in the Hall of Honor alongside those of his forefathers who'd fought and fallen in service to Great Britain. The clever enchantments of the Potter home were inlaid into the very foundations of the building, and there were many rooms which would display the history of the family and those who came before. Once a member of the family died, the magic of Ravenhill would activate their portrait, and depending on several factors, decide where that portrait should be displayed.

The Hall of Honor was just outside the main study for the head of the family in the south wing, with a view overlooking the bulk of the valley and the lakes below it. It was, according to James' father, the single most prestigious place they could ever hope to be placed. James was there now, alongside his father Charlus, who'd fallen early in the war, and his grandfather William who fell on the continent fighting against Grindelwald.

Despite the fact she had to pass by it whenever she wished to enter the study which held all of the official business she was now forced to handle, Lily would never try to remove his portrait from it's proper place.

"If it's no trouble tell Remus that he's welcome to one of the guest rooms if he'd like. Or if he'd prefer to leave, that's fine as well. Just let Dobby know to prepare one. I...I think I'll take your advice on the potion, so I won't be good company either way."

The thought of closing her eyes and a deep, dreamless sleep sounded almost heavenly. Harry hadn't been sleeping well all week, one reason he was taking an irregular nap this time of the day. Perhaps she'd give him a small dose as well and they could both take some time to just rest.

Sirius Black stood in the wet and the cold uncaring, his hollow eyes fixed upon the corpse of his former friend. Mousy brown hair that was prematurely balding was clinging to Peter's face in the rain, his pale expression frozen into fearful surprise. Blood was already spreading from beneath him, a hole twice the size of a galleon punched directly through the center of his chest allowing it to pour onto the street rapidly. Peter Pettigrew had been dead the moment Sirius tracked him down, the rat hadn't even finished the first word before he was struck by the spell.

His formal black attire was wet and heavy. Sirius hadn't even bothered to change after the funeral, but it bothered him even less than the screams of terror that were slowly fading as the people on the crowded street ran in fear from the murder performed in broad daylight. The was a sharp crack, one after another as the Aurors arrived, and the clattering noise of his wand striking the pavement at his feet.

The entire world felt muted and dull, and Sirius still hadn't moved his gaze from the blank eyes of his former brother. Only Peter could have given the location of James' family to the Death Eaters, and to confirm that he was skulking about when they'd searched for him the past week in vain proved that he hadn't been tortured and killed for that information. That was enough for Sirius to decide his guilt, and his punishment.

The four of them had sworn an oath on their very blood years ago, an oath of loyalty and an oath of honor. Again they'd sworn an oath of protection the night Harry was born three years ago, the first born heir of their legacy. Finally, Peter had sworn a different kind of oath the night he agreed to be secret keeper for James' wife and son. The breaking of those oaths was to be repaid in blood, there was no other alternative.

Somewhere, distantly, he knew that he'd just broken those same oaths in his own way. In the event of James' death he was to look after Harry and Lily, to stand as a pillar for them to cling to for as long as they needed, but the betrayal of one brother that lead to the death of another...perhaps he had more of the Black family in him than he claimed. Retribution, swift and bloody was the only solution in his mind – no imprisonment, no explanations. Peter had to die for what he had done, and now Sirius Black would pay for his own sins.

He didn't resist as the Aurors took him into custody.

As darkness fell and the rain finally relented, Remus Lupin glanced back at the large home of his first and oldest friend. Lily and Harry were sleeping, everyone else was already gone, and as he clenched his shrunken and battered trunk in his pocket, Remus reasoned to himself that this was for the best.

With James gone he was lost. He had no idea how to help either of the two left behind by this tragedy, and there wasn't much help he could give in the first place. He was just as broken. They had support – much more than he could offer – in Dumbledore and Sirius and even the Weasleys if needed. Gold would never be an issue for them, and the comfort they needed he didn't feel like he could offer.

As the war tapered to nearly nothing laws were already being shouted for to punish the dark creatures who'd aided Voldemort, including werewolves, and he couldn't drag James' family down with him. It was better this way.

A sharp crack of apparition announced his retreat as his own cowardice chased him away.

Across the country in Cokeworth, a shabby brick house rose from the rubbish-filled streets of Spinner's End, surrounded by similar homes which were long-abandoned and near enough to being uninhabitable. Within the walls of the dreary building, however, the view was much cleaner, if cramped, and a warm glow from the fireplace cast flickering shadows across a pale face.

Severus Snape stared curiously at the dark wand which rested on the table before him, uncaring of the slow feeling of inebriation which was beginning to cloud his senses. The half-gone bottle of whiskey which sat next to the wand was ignored as well, until he found his glass to be empty that is.

It was a curious feeling, knowing that the wand – his wand – had done something that he'd been wishing for since he was a boy. It had always been a treasure, had always made his dreams a reality, and once more it hadn't failed him.

It had taken him out of squalor and abuse at the hands of his worthless father when he was only eleven. It had performed magical feats that, while relatively mundane, had captured the early attention of the only girl he would ever love. The wand had allowed him to make a name for himself in Slytherin House, even as a lowly half-blood.

When he finally left school, it had allowed him to take revenge upon Tobias, who'd finally crossed the line and took his anger past the point of no return, killing Severus' mother in a drunken rage. Eileen remained too broken to even raise her own wand in defense of herself. The muggle prison which held his father had been no issue for Severus' wand, and the green light of the killing curse had never come so easy.

The wand had even allowed him to stand tall beneath the banner of the Dark Lord, recognized for his brilliance and his strength, and only the danger to Lily Evans (she would never be a Potter) had driven him to break from that path and alert the Headmaster to the danger she faced.

Finally, after so many years of anguish and prayer, it had allowed him an opportunity to take his vengeance upon his most hated adversary. The satisfaction as a spell of his own creation ripped into the flesh of James Potter was, perhaps, even better than he ever imagined it could be. Already overwhelmed by Bellatrix and her husband, Potter hadn't even a moment to shield himself from the curse.

Sectumsempra…

The look of surprised pain that caused the man to pause, and then the hail of spellfire that tore into him as his defense failed...it was perhaps the most satisfying moment of Severus Snape's life. The man who tortured him, and then took everything that Severus ever wanted. The others had their fun with Potter after that, but Severus only watched on hungrily as the man slowly bled to death. After getting no information, the others – wisely – scattered, but not Snape. He wanted to stay and to watch as the life left those eyes.

The arrival of Sirius Black ruined that, and Severus was forced to flee as well, but he was slightly mollified by the fact that Potter's death was announced early the next morning. Even better was the fact that Lily had escaped without harm. He'd been fully willing to turn his wand upon his companions had they cornered her.

Days later when the LeStrange trio were caught by the Aurors, they were far too fanatical to even mention his name, unwilling to say anything aside from proclaiming their allegiance to the Dark Lord. He was safe beneath the blanket of Albus Dumbledore's protection. After what he'd done over the last several years Lily Evans would likely never be his, but the wand in front of him had made certain that she would never belong to Potter again either and that would have to be enough.

The Daily Prophet to his immediate left was open to a page announcing the funeral of James Potter, held at his family estate just that afternoon, and with a twisted, half-smirk, Snape raised a toast to the attached photo of his worst enemy.

"I win, Potter," he murmured.

Author's Note:

So, this will be my first FanFiction in the Harry Potter Genre, and possibly my only one. It's something I've had outlined for a very long time, even longer than my other story I have in progress. This first chapter is just a short intro, setting the stage if you will, before we dive into the heart of it.

It will be very long, and will begin pre-Hogwarts, will obviously encompass all of Harry's school years, and then likely go beyond that at least some. Anyone who's read my other work will know that I'm not adverse to playing around with ages and with plot points, and my work is very original.

That being said you are not likely to see the same-old events repeated here, and the ones that are, will have a definitive twist to them. As far as my characters go, I try to make them have as much depth and personality as possible, while doing my best to make dialogue and various interactions as believable as possible.

Another point is that, if you continue reading this, you're likely to be disappointed at some point by events in the story. I firmly believe that a story isn't good without friction and hardship, so don't expect a story where the protagonist is infallible and unable to lose – you won't find that here.

I'm not going to give much of the story away so early, but just know that I have it planned out fully, right down to the ending. I just haven't written it yet. Don't bother asking what will happen in the future as I won't tell you, even if you ask nicely.

To anyone who may have come here after reading my other story, Astraeus, I have not abandoned that story in the least. I haven't updated in a few months not because I lost interest in it, but because I haven't been writing anything at all. I was just working on the next chapter for it this morning, but this idea will not leave me alone, and so I decided to work on it instead.

Updates will come when they come, and with a busy work/home life I've learned to make no promises about a set schedule. I hope you all enjoy, and even if you don't, thanks for reading!