Disclaimer: All recognized characters in this story are not mine. Some lady, JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, we all know this. The plot is mine though, I spent enough hours dreaming it up to know that much

A/N: this is my first story. My attempt at putting forth something I imagine people would enjoy. Please review

Prologue.

It is only what is written upon the soul of man that will survive the wreck of time.

Francis J. Grimke….

The wind was cool and gentle, almost absentmindedly swaying and rustling the trees; yet it still managed to send a shiver down his spine. His feet crunched loudly on the gravel path that lead to the house, the sound amplified by the quietness of the night. Apart from the wind and trees, everything else was silent; no chirping crickets, no croaking frogs and no hum of flying insects. Nature was wary of this place, and likely would be for a while to come. Truly even he was wary of this place; this tomb. He stopped before the broken door, still ajar as it had been since that night, 'Two nights ago' he reminded himself. It seemed so long ago, like a distant memory, yet he knew deep within his very soul that he would never forget anything that occurred that day.

He stepped into the house, his eyes raking over the various signs of battle, reconstructing and supposing what happened. It had been brief and fierce; the gouged floor, torn and blackened walls could attest to that. He had at least gone down fighting, but that was little consolation. He made his way upstairs and the already thick air became thicker still; he was getting closer to the source. Atop the stairs he turned left and faced the first door to his right. It was behind that door that it came from; the source of the pressure on him, the house and some ways beyond the property line. He braced himself before opening the door; the whole place was saturated in the powerful chaotic magic which to his senses made it seem like walking through a thick broth. For a moment he could not truly perceive anything apart from the magic swirling around the room with seemingly no purpose. It was that cool gentle breeze that snapped him out of his trance, making him close his eyes in concentration. Slowly his barriers tightened and the constant pressure became that little more bearable. He opened his eyes to a scene straight out of an alien mind. The room looked as if a tempest, born in anger and rage, had ripped it apart. The roof had been blown up and out, the remaining pieces pointing upwards, twisted and blackened, like the hands of the damned pleading with the heavens. The far wall was non-existent, having been turned to rubble and ash by an incredibly powerful blast. Pieces of furniture and roofing were scattered around the room mostly blackened and some even smoking. The room looked to have lost its colour, the floor looked grey and decaying, and the walls sickly, old and cracking. Smoke and ash still hung in the air, swirling in random patterns and loops, trapped by the chaotic magic.

His gaze was drawn to three distinct points in the destroyed room; two clear impressions and a pile of ashes. The first impression was about six feet from the door and was set at an angle from the door, it was vaguely human shaped and just over five feet. 'Lily'. The thought brought a dull ache in the pit of his chest. She had been so bright and vibrant, brilliant and set to change the world. Now no longer. The second impression was in the very centre of the room, a perfect circle. 'Where the crib used to be.' The circle barely three feet in diameter, was free of any and all debris and the magic seemed to be calmest there, like the eye of the storm. The pile of ashes, he knew, belonged to the defeated Dark Lord, the man who had brought magical Europe to its knees. He would have stayed there staring at the pile of ashes if the constant demanding pressure from the ambient chaotic magic did not put a strain on him. His hand disappeared into the folds of his robe, before coming out with a small crystal vial filled with a golden liquid. With no preamble whatsoever, he uncorked the vial and downed the sand tasting potion in one go.

A sharp pain blossomed behind his eyes, he let out a small gasp, and felt the room lurch and staggered a few steps back before finding his footing. When he opened his eyes the room was no longer the same; the walls were a soft blue and green, with toys spread out on the carpeted floor and the crib in the centre. Yet everything seemed hazy and translucent, as if not truly there; a fading memory. Suddenly the door opened violently, yet made not a single sound, and a woman with vibrant red hair clutching a child came rushing in, her fiery long hair trailing. The edges of her body were hazy and frail, as if she were a construct of smoke desperately trying to maintain some form. She closed the door behind her but did not lock it, manually or magically. Her movements were frantic and rushed but she was gentle as ever as she placed the toddler in his crib. She said something to calm the child but her words were lost to the observer, unable to hear only see. The woman fussed over the child, patting him on the head, her lips moving, seemingly in a chant. Finally, she kissed the child on his brow, tears streaming down her pretty face. Suddenly the door was flung open, rattling the room. Her hair was a coruscating trail of red as she spun on her heel and faced the phantom standing on the threshold. The Dark Lord was a sight to behold; clad in robes of the darkest night and a hood to obscure his face, only his dark scarlet serpentine eyes could be seen. The eyes glowed with an unholy fire and barely contained rage mixed with triumph. His lips moved and he gestured with a ghostly pale hand, the lady shook her head, opened her mouth. In one fluid motion and a mouthed spell, a terrible flash of green and the woman fell limp to the ground.

The child seeming to know that his mother was gone opened his mouth and tears streamed out. The Dark Lord moved forward sidestepping the fresh corpse; he seemed to glide over the floor much like the phantoms he resembled would. He was speaking, whilst he circled the child who upon hearing his voice turned his green eyes to his executioner. Finally, he stood opposite the door at the far end of the room in front of the child. Ever graceful he raised his pale wand; the tip already glowing a sickly electric green; the words were said and for a single moment child and phantom were joined by an electric green tether. Then the world exploded.

Dumbledore winced as in a bright flash the temporal vision was shattered. He pulled out a midnight blue, with literal shooting stars, handkerchief and wiped the blood that trickled down his nose. With one last glance at the room he left the house never looking back. When he had gotten beyond the property line he gave a sharp half turn and disappeared with a small pop. He reappeared in front of a set of large heavy oaken doors, which opened for him as he stepped forward. He quickly made his way along the corridors, deep in thought his legs going by instinct. The sound of voices abruptly stopping brought him out of his internal musings. He looked up to see three people staring at him intently.

"How is he, Poppy?" His soft inquiry stalled any questions that were surely heading his way. In another time he would have given a smirk at his deputy for her impatient stare and pinched lips. But this was a different time, a sombre time.

"The little tyke is asleep and won't be up for at least six hours." Poppy drew in a shaky breath before continuing, "He was crying for Lily..." She blinked her suddenly moist eyes, her hands fiddling with the apron she wore.

"What happened Albus? How did he survive?" The question surprisingly did not come from the turban wearing witch as Albus would have thought but from the rather short charms Professor. Albus took a few moments to collect his thoughts before letting out a tired sigh.

"I do not truly know the answer to that Filius."

"But the potion... Surely you saw something Albus!" Minerva's accent came out thicker than usual prompting Poppy to lay a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Do not misinterpret my answer dear Minerva. The potion worked, not as much as it could, given the environment-but it did work." He began absentmindedly stroking his beard and pacing across the room looking pensive. The other three occupants shared worried looks; Albus could be evasive on many topics, choosing to leave his compatriots solving riddles. But he never looked so out of control like this, seemingly as lost as the rest of them. He looked worried and this made them even more worried.

"Albus what did you see?" Minerva took a step forward, placing a gentle hand on his upper arm to stop him pacing. Minerva was then met with his sharp blue gaze, staring into her soul and she felt her breath hitch.

"I saw Lily die by Voldemort's hand and yet when that same hand turned on young Harry..." He closed his eyes as he brought a hand to rub his forehead. He missed the looks the three threw at each other.

"I was unable to see beyond the casting of the spell; the vision shattered, violently and abruptly."

"Can another attempt be made?" Albus was already shaking his head even before the question was finished.

"The magic there is still too wild, too chaotic- and by the time it dissipates enough..."

"The potion will be useless." Minerva finished with a sigh, moving to seat on one of the beds.

"The events of that night will remain a much-debated mystery, as I doubt the child will remember. Even if he possibly could, I doubt he would want to relive it by relating it."

The four remained in their various poses, each lost in their own thoughts that often went to the child sleeping in the secluded and enclosed area of the room. A soft ruffling sound announced Minerva standing up and drew their eyes to her.

"I suppose I should go make those arrangements we discussed?" She received a nod from her superior before turning to the other male in the room, "Filius if you would accompany me to the bank, I could use your expertise."

"Lead the way Minerva, might as well get it over with." The two then proceeded to leave the room leaving the old man who was still stroking his beard and Poppy who had busied herself with tidying up the various vials and towels.

"Poppy?" The witch turned at the sound of her name and now that he had a closer look at her, Albus now noticed how tired she looked. Her hair always kept in a tight neat bun looked frazzled, several stands loose falling across her face. Her skin was pale from exhaustion and her eyes had dark circles underneath.

"I know I have asked once before – but I feel compelled to ask once again. The taint... Are you sure there is no other solution?" Poppy let out a large sigh seemingly deflating; she cast a sorrowful look at the curtains behind her before shaking her head sadly.

"Believe me Albus, I have looked and searched in all the books I know of that could give insight. I have called and consulted with several associates and even called in a few favours. It all points to the same thing; any attempt to remove it right now is most likely to lead to death."

"When is the earliest it can be done then?"

"By my estimates, no sooner than his second maturity. It would be far safer then."

"Very well then, I will leave you to your work or perhaps some rest?" The witch's lips twitched slightly upwards as the old wizard left the hospital Ward dreading the meetings he would be stuck in for the rest of the week.

Minerva had been called stone-faced, cold and stoic on many occasions; and she could rightly admit that she was perhaps all those things. She was not a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve – she had seen and experienced too much to keep the habit. Yes, Minerva was a hard woman, but she was also a hopeful woman, a caring woman, a protective woman. Her tender side did not often come out blatantly, more often it was in her actions to those she cared for, subtle little things that only those with sharp eyes could catch. But once in a while her tender side would come out in a big way, blatantly and unapologetically. This was one of those times, just like all the times this particular person was involved really. She couldn't help the small soft but infinitely warm smile that graced her features as she stared at the babe in the young woman's arms. Petunia Dursley nee Evans was holding her nephew tenderly, soft cooing sounds emanating from her lips. Hadrian was giggling joyfully, his fist full of his aunt's golden tresses.

Petunia had confessed that she was afraid that Hadrian might not remember her as she had only met him once when he was only months old. The one-year-old had surprised them all by fussing and calling out to her; only to calm down when she held him. Minerva understood full well how Petunia felt; it was always a treat for mothers to hold onto such a joyful child. Petunia knowing that there were still things to discuss then placed Hadrian in the play pen next to his cousin; and as with all children the two got into a game only they could hope to understand. She then turned to the two other adults currently looking at the children as well.

"He doesn't seem to be taking it too badly." Petunia said as she took a sip from her cup of tea that was still pleasantly warm.

"Poppy says that the memory will fade and become vague, but it will never truly leave him." Albus' blue gaze seemed to pierce into her soul, making Petunia avert her gaze.

"What does that mean for him, long term?"

"Nightmares." Minerva's grey eyes met Petunia's ocean blue. "He's already begun to have them. They will decrease in frequency as time goes, but..." She left the statement in the air, there was really no need to finish it. Petunia turned to look at the child with sad eyes and met gorgeous green eyes, 'Lily's eyes' she thought nostalgically.

"Could there be any other side effects from him surviving the..." She trailed off uncertainly.

"The Killing Curse." Petunia nodded looking apprehensive; that apprehension only grew when the two magicals shared a look.

"We don't know." This was accompanied by a helpless shrug from Albus. Petunia looked at them surprised before it turned to irritation.

"How could you not know? Aren't you two professors at one of the top magical schools in the country, heck the world?"

"Yes, we are," Albus' calm interjection seemed to stop Petunia from continuing her tirade. "We are rather knowledgeable in many magical subjects but something you have to understand is that what young Hadrian has undergone is something new, something uncharted, something magical, something impossible." Albus let the two women absorb the words for a moment before he continued.

"The curse used on Hadrian is un-blockable by magical means. The curse renders all magical shielding useless and only physical shields can stop it, if they are strong enough. The spell only needs contact with the body even a glancing blow is enough to kill, leaving no physical marks whatsoever. Nobody in recorded history has ever survived it..."

"So, Hadrian is special?"

The two magic users smiled at that, causing Petunia to smile back in return bemusedly.

"Yes, Hadrian is special." Minerva smiled at the playing child who was lost in his own little world.

"Now back to your earlier question... Because of how unique this case is, we truly cannot predict how he could be affected. It could result in nothing at all, though I am personally doubtful of that, or it could even result in the loss of his magic..."

Their discussion was disturbed as especially loud giggles and claps came from the play pen. The two toddlers were surrounded by floating toys that were constantly changing colour. Minerva turned to Albus with a smirk and raised brow causing the elderly wizard to give an amused huff. The two women shared a laugh at the man's expense.

"Still I can't help but wonder why he is being left with me; I wouldn't know what to do if something truly abnormal happened due to him surviving the impossible. Plus, what if one of the followers of this dark wizard come looking for him, I can't defend myself against magic and with two children..." Petunia whose voice had been steady and even had begun to get progressively strained.

"There is no need to worry about that, in fact Hadrian is much safer here with you that anywhere else." Petunia gave him an inquisitive stare prompting him to elaborate.

"You know of the bias some magicals have for mundane people," Petunia nodded impatiently whilst the wizard took his time sipping his tea. He seemed to be mulling it over, choosing his words carefully, "To many Hadrian is a hero, a symbol of their victory; and already they have put him on a pedestal."

"But he is just a child!" Petunia gasped out looking at Minerva for confirmation only to see the witch's grim face.

"That makes him all the more wondrous. A mere child capable of defeating the one wizard who had brought Europe to its knees; the child who in one move has removed the Dark shroud of fear and despair that was permeating the world." Albus voice had taken on an ethereal and faraway tone and Petunia found herself looking from above as countless people cried in despair and fear, only to see a child wipe it away. Slowly she nodded as she begun to understand just what Hadrian represented.

"Their Saviour child could not possibly live in a boring normal mundane neighbourhood."

Petunia looked affronted at the somewhat backhanded insult that the wizard had unintentionally thrown her way. Still she could truly see what it was that Albus was saying. Lily had never hidden how much the bias of the hidden world affected things. There were those who went so far to believe that muggles, as mundanes were often called, were just barely above domesticated animals. It disgusted her to no end that the people who had been blessed with such an astonishing gift could be so obtuse, but there really was nothing she could do about it. People who saw mundanes as sub-human would never venture to the normal world to check if their saviour was residing there. Still according to Lily, the followers of the Dark Wizard were fanatics and it would be stupid to think that such people cared for normal conventions. Albus seemed to have anticipated this as he gave her an answer before she even asked.

"Exactly what are blood wards?" She asked with slight trepidation, she did not like how the mere word itself emphasized blood all on its own.

"Before Lily was – taken, she performed a charm-ritual hybrid on Hadrian for protection. I will admit that I do not know all that the ritual entails; but I do know that it resides in his blood and using your connection to him via Lily's blood; a protective Ward can be cast over this residence."

Petunia shook her head after she digested the abbreviated version of something she was quite sure was complex. She gave a wry smile internally; this was typical of her sister.

"What would the ward do exactly?" Albus took a moment to gather his thoughts before he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together and in front of his face.

"The Ward will extend some of Lily's protection to you and your son. Nobody bearing the Dark Lord's mark will be able to touch you, none bearing the mark will be able to approach this house and if my theory is right; they will feel a great need, when near, to leave this whole neighbourhood."

"That's um...well impressive."

"Yes, your sister was a truly brilliant and gifted woman."

"Will the same protections apply to Hadrian? I wouldn't want him to be in any danger because he's protecting us."

"You have nothing to worry about; in fact, as long as he calls where his blood resides home, the charm will continue to function strong." Petunia nodded, looking relieved.

The talk continued for a while; the kids having dozed off during it all, Petunia had of course put them to bed when she noticed. Petunia was given answers to her questions and was reassured that they would keep in touch as one of their own would soon move to the neighbourhood. She was also informed that she would receive deposits in her bank account to help her with the financial burden of taking care of Hadrian. She was also told that Minerva would visit a few times along with Poppy to give Hadrian his magical inoculations. Once everything was hashed out the two then departed leaving Petunia with a plethora of emotions with two sleeping toddlers. She wondered how Vernon would take the new addition to the family.

Author Note:

So this is my first story on or any other online group to be honest. I've been reading stories on this site for years, you know how it is. At the end of the day there was always an itch, a whisper we all get in our heads; what if this happened? What about that? Or maybe that? So this is the result of that, after a few years of just having this idea rattling around in my head and a couple of months building up the courage to post it, HERE IT IS! I hope anyone who goes out of their way to read this will review, criticism is always welcome, constructive mind you.