Godric's Hollow was quiet, too quiet for a town whose occupants was only partially made up of residents hiding behind closed curtains and warded doors. If you looked at the right angle, with a magical eye, there was a faint shimmer to some homes. Nearly undetectable, and you'd forget about it the moment you looked away. No houses with dwellers of magical blood were foolish enough to try and survive a war without wards over their homes. They layered them several thick and renewed them as often as they dared risk casting in the open.

Each day the magical residents were fearful they'd look outside to see a green skull and snake lighting the sky. They'd find themselves with one less neighbor and extra sets of eyes watching them to see who would be the next target. See who could be turned. See who could be made to talk.

Hallows night was ending, not a very busy night for the West England town, and this late into the evening only a single sole walked the streets still. He walked with nervous steps, constantly looking over his shoulder, nearly tripping as he shuffled along quickly. The ground was mercifully lacking in ice but it spared him no extra trouble.

The closer he got to his destination the faster he moved, picking up the pace to a light jog of which he was just a tad too clumsy to manage well. Or perhaps whatever nerves plagued him simply kept him from coordinating his limbs at all for the time being. He kept going until he reached a wooden gate, latched along a stone fence in front of a pleasant looking stone cottage. It was homey easy to miss as your eyes passed over it, but hard to look away from once you spotted it. Two floors shone with light from indoors, a bit of smoke rising from the chimney in the cool October air.

The stumbling man paused fidgeting his hands together with an almost manic anxiety. At last, he opened the gate, hurrying up the path to the front door where he knocked quickly before he could stop himself. There was a moment of silence within the house, the residents going still. Then, the door opened quickly, a tall dark haired young man waving the nervous one in at once.

"Peter! Is everything alright? You look pale. What's happened?" James Potter adjusted the set of round framed glasses on his face, glancing nervously to his wife who hurried into the living room to scoop their son off the floor. He'd been playing with the boy, entertaining him with tricks from his wand. It was with a sink of dread he realized he'd left it sitting on the coffee table, calling it to his hand at once.

He couldn't be so careless. If he was caught without it in danger he'd be dead.

"Oh! It's..." Peter's teeth chattered away with nerves, clicking against each other as he brought up a hand to chew at his nails. "It's Sirius."

James' face went pale, hazel eyes wide with fear. "Is he... He can't be."

"No!" Peter exclaimed, and began speaking so quickly he tripped over his words as well as his feet, pacing the bit of room he could. "He's not dead. He must see you at once. At once he said. There's been news, something awful has happened. Didn't trust sending a message by magic or owl. Had to be in person he said."

"Calm down, Peter," Lily urged, ushering them to come further into the house and sit down, but Peter stayed where he was. "Tell us what's happened."

"I don't know," Peter shook his head fast enough to make his head and neck ache. "He didn't say – I don't think there was time, but Sirius has to meet with you at once. At once, he said."

James and Lily looked to one another forlorn. The young red headed woman looked down at their son, happily taking them all in, completely unaware of the dangers circling around him like vultures.

"I think..." Peter began, desperate to convince them. "There's word... of the Longbottom boy."

"Little Neville?" Lily gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. A part of her was instantly shamed at the relief that rushed through her veins. If the prophecy was about Neville... then her son would be safe.

"I don't know," Peter insisted. "At once!"

"We can't just leave Harry, and we can't take him with us." James told him. "I'll go, on my own."

"No," Peter shouted so loudly that it startled Harry, making him whimper as Lily rocked him gently. "No... I will watch the boy. It shouldn't take you long. Sirius seemed so urgent... If something were to happen to him..." Peter wrung his hands together. "I can't do much of fighting, James."

James expression softened a bit despite the stress making him suddenly look much older than a mere twenty-one years. "I know, Peter." He pat a hand on Peter's shoulder, squeezing lightly to try and calm his friend's shaking. "Lily?"

A doubtful look was cast upon Peter regarding his abilities in child care, but Harry was such a peaceful baby. If they were only to be gone a short while, there was hardly much that could happen. "I'll put Harry in the nursery. He should be fine until we return, but you must be here Peter. You can watch over him properly can't you?"
Peter had never had much experience with babies, but he nodded enthusiastically regardless. "Yes, of course, I promise."

Lily hurried out of the room, James quick on her heels to stop her and whisper a quick goodbye to Harry, a kiss pressed to the top of the boy's head. Lily smiled, tension straightening her shoulders at the sweet but sad act. Her footsteps receded upstairs and quickly returned as James questioned Peter on where to meet Sirius.

The nerves only got worse in Peter the longer they stayed until at last the Potter's were out the door. They locked hands, heads bent together with murmured words. Their lips met in a short kiss before they passed through the gate, Apparating away in the blink of an eye. Peter shut the door, a hand resting on its surface for a moment as he took a deep breath.

That was as much as he needed to do. He could leave, slip away out the door. The Dark Lord would enter the house and find the child alone. He'd done his duty to his friends, and still saved himself. Who could blame him?

Everyone. Everyone would blame him. The fear wouldn't leave him, Peter shaking once more, trembling like the coward he knew he was. A cry started from upstairs, less a panicked sound and more a wondering call. Harry hoped someone might answer, as if he knew his mother and father had gone.

Left him all alone when death was at his door.

Peter paced the room, listening to Harry cry out once more. A third cry brought him halfway up the stairs, the pictures on the wall at eye level, above and below him all taunting with their images of the people he was betraying. The fifth cry brought him outside the door, fingers nearly clawing bloody trails down each other as he scratched them together. Where was the courage of a Gryffindor? Why had he ever been placed in the house of bravery when he could not find where he'd left his spine? Had he ever even had one?

Lonely and unanswered, Harry started to truly cry on the other side of the door, drawing Peter inside to try and shush the boy.

"Quiet, enough," Peter told him, trying not to yell.

The child quieted quickly, a surprising act for a one year old. Harry blinked up mournfully at Peter with Lilly's green eyes, wondering why his parent's hadn't come to pick him up when he cried.

"He'll kill me you know." Peter whispered, looking around quickly as if expecting the Dark Lord to appear at any moment. Panic began to set into Peter. "He's going to kill me for this. What have I done? What have I done?"

Peter began to pace the room in true panic.

"I should run, but he'll find me. Or James and Sirius and Remus – the Order will find me!" Peter realized with a sinking, sickening dread that he was doomed no matter his choice now. He'd made a fatal mistake in revealing the secret of the Potter's house to Voldemort, and by having a single moment of true loyalty he'd sealed himself to join the fatal fate he'd woven. Peter suddenly wished very much he could go back to the day of his sorting and beg to be placed in any house other than Gryffindor.

Downstairs, the back door of the house banged open with a crash, Voldemort entering from behind to try and catch the Potter's by surprise. Peter shrieked in fear before he could stop himself, causing Harry to cry out – both sounds giving away their location.

He could grab the child and run, Peter thought. Or leave the child and run. He could transform into a rat at once and hide beneath something until the Dark Lord had gone. Then he need only hide from the Order until they were all dead.

"Pettigrew," the voice hissed up towards him and Peter froze before he could make a move to hide or run. Voldemort already knew he was there then. "Where are the Potters?"

As the Dark Lord ascended the stairs, he pressed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark on his arm, calling for the nearest of his Death Eaters to join him at once in case he'd been truly betrayed. Two columns of black smoke circled the sky above Godric's Hollow, searching for the source of their master's call. The Fidelius Charm however was still in place, hiding the location from their search as they materialized along the street.

Alecto and Amycus Carrow looked at each of the houses, searching for a sign of magic, waiting for another call. Inside the Potter house, the nursery door opened with a bang, making Peter's trembling form jump high into the air. Voldemort's hooded figure seemed to float rather than walk into the room as he took in the sight of his most pathetic follower and the child prophesized to be his end.

"Master! My Lord, you've arrived! The child – the child is..." Peter swallowed his words as Voldemort's eyes settled to bore into him with a dangerous gleam.

"You..." The word stretched, Peter feeling as if he was staring into the eyes of a snake coiled and rearing back as it prepared to strike. "You warned them. You betrayed me. You would die for them."

"No! Yes – no, master!" Peter fell to his knees, hands clasped together as he begged. "It's – they are – I merely came to tell you. T-They're discovered the truth, the prophecy – they believe it's the other boy. They've gone to see him! To help protect him – I – I came to warn you of this defiance, my master! Th-they trusted the child to me because they th-thought you'd go for the other boy."

Peter's hysteria did him a favor only in making it hard to determine if his words were lies or truth told in fear that made the two indistinguishable. Still, the seed of doubt planted by the poorly executed, but still cunning words of a might have been Slytherin, was set to influence the course of history for years yet to come.

At that moment, Peter would have said or done anything to save his own life. More than that, in the face of so much fear, he remembered why he had loved his friends so dearly. They'd never made him fearful. With the Marauders Peter had been brave and strong and smart and invincible, without them he was a coward. A sniveling servant to the dark lord who would never make him brave or show him friendship or love, the dark wizard wasn't capable of inspiring such things.

"Are you sure?" Voldemort hissed.

"Yes!" Peter cried, falling even farther to squash his face down into the floor at the Dark Lord's feet. "I'm sure! The prophesied child is the Longbottom boy!"

Voldemort was silent, the seconds ticking by as Peter resisted the urge to peer up at the wizard towering above him. "You are lying. To save the son of your once best friend. A noble act, but one that means you now must die."

Voldemort's wand raised and Peter shook his head, too afraid to look. The Dark Lord waited.

"Tell me the truth, and you shall be spared."

Peter's mind raced, running through the possibilities. All of them ended in death. There was no path, no string of truths or lies that would end in the Dark Lord sparing his life. So, Peter felt sick to his stomach, what did he want to die for? It occurred to him for a moment that perhaps whatever the Sorting Hat had seen in him was the decision to be made that night, whether to try cunning his way out with his cowardice, or die loyal and with what little courage he could muster for the love of the friends who had never done him wrong, never betrayed him as he had them.

"The Potter boy is not the Chosen One."

"Fine." A flash of green light filled the room and Peter collapsed, dying without pain. The only comfort he had was the last moment of courage and love he had summoned with all his might.

The flash brightened the windows of the upstairs a bright green, noticed by the Carrow's hovering outside on the street. They started in the direction of the house, hurrying inside with little pause for fear of combatants. Now they'd seen the house it was impossible to miss, and they dared not look away for worry of forgetting it. They found the Dark Lord on the second floor, looming over the crib of a child, his wand pointed ready to make the killing blow.

"It seems Pettigrew had received information that the Chosen One is the son of the Longbottom family. The Potters have gone to protect him. I shall have to destroy the boy next, and all who stand guard over him. Never the less, while I am already here..." Voldemort stared at the child, considering it. When had he ever passed up on such a delectable opportunity to strike true fear into his enemies such as to murder their child in its crib? "The Potters must be punished for their defiance."

The Carrows grinned, both eyeing the child waiting to see its life fade in a green flash.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light shone, shooting from Voldemort's wand towards the boy. The Carrows were both blown back by the explosion that erupted when the spell hit and backfired. They hit the wall of the hallway and fell to the floor, the whole house rocking with the force of the explosion. Pictures fell from the wall, glass shattering over the stairs. The flickering sound of flames met their ears as the green fire scorched its way through a large chunk of the second floor.

Alecto was on her feet first. She lit her wand to see as she stood with a groan. The blast had left burns on her skin, cuts leaving tricking blood trails down her face.

The crib and the child inside still lay against one wall, but everything around it had been blown back and out. What remained of a single body was lying on the floor, affected by the blast as it had splattered blood and sizzling flesh across the room to all sides. There was no sign of the Dark Lord except his wand and tattered remains of his robes still smoking from the singe the blast had left.

Amycus raced to his feet behind her, taking in the jagged, burnt crib bars and the child still unharmed despite the carnage of the room. "How – How has this happened?"

Alecto had no answer, the possibilities of spells, charms or the like too unknown to her. "A shield charm?"

"There are none that could prevent the killing curse," Amycus hissed. "Are there?"

The child was crying, drawing Amycus nearer to it like a shark drawn to blood in the water. He pointed his wand, stopped only by Alecto grabbing him.

"We should kill it," Amycus yelled, straining to pull his arm from the grip of Alecto's stubby fingers.

Neither Carrow was very bright. In fact, they were overall a very dim witted pair. They were both drawn to violence and power over knowledge and wisdom, but Alecto was at the least a single, very small candle brighter than her brother. She stared at the child a moment, knowing time was likely short.

In a rush, she grabbed the boy from the crib, taking nothing but the child as she struggled to figure out how to hold it. "Blood, spill some into the box thing that holds it."

"What?"

"Do it!" Alecto yelled, disgusted by the blubbering of the child squirming in her hands. She held it tightly around the waist with both hands, keeping its arms out of swinging distance from her. Harry whined pitifully, a look of distress on his face that might have melted anyone with a semblance of a soul into showing him some mercy.

Amycus refused to shed his own blood, instead hovering the body of Pettigrew above the crib and tilting it so a rush of blood and clots from the blast wounds poured from where it had begun to settle and cool in the corpse. He tossed the body back down where it had been, looking to his sister for approval with a frustrated expression pinching his face.

"Good. Let's go."

"We're taking it?" Amycus yelled in confusion, unable to speak at any lesser volume so was his panic and fury at the Dark Lord's apparent death. He grabbed the Dark Lord's wand from the floor as he went to follow. Voldemort would be viciously angry when he returned if his wand went into the hands of their enemies.

"Yes!" Alecto stepped outside the house still holding the struggling Harry awkwardly. "We must send word to our fellows in the Ministry; ensure they can prevent the Trace from being placed on it." She cursed the child silently as she reluctantly pulled it closer so she wouldn't risk splitting the thing in half when she Apparated away. Amycus followed quickly in her actions, both disappearing just before three figures appeared in front of the gate.

Lily screamed before either men could react, racing towards the house without care of who might still be inside. She would kill them if they stood in her way. James and Sirius raced behind her, fast enough they could have surpassed her had she not already beat them to the stairs. Glass cracked and splintered beneath her feet, mercifully not piercing through her shoes into her skin. James tried to stop her, not wanting her to see whatever lay in the remains of the nursery, but Lilly would not be stopped.

The door was blasted off, lying in the hallway. Lily flung it aside with a wave of her wand, tears streaming down her face as she rounded the corner into the darkness of the nursery. Her wand lit with a whisper, revealing all her worst fears as the light from James and Sirius' wands joined hers.

She stumbled forward into the room, hands reaching out to grip the top of the crib as her wand dropped to the floor still lit. Lily sunk to her knees, sobbing at the sight of the crib splattered with blood. Voldemort hadn't just killed her baby; he'd completely destroyed the body. She had nothing left to hold, nothing left to clutch to and mourn. Her heart ached with denial and pain. It couldn't be true. Harry must still be alive if she could not see him, hold him, know him as dead with her own eyes. He had to be alive and just... just hurt very badly.

Someone had taken her baby. She knew it.

James couldn't speak, too stunned to even feel. He took a step forward, gripping Lily's shoulder to support himself from falling to his knees beside her. He could feel the tears coming, knew they would be sobs that would tear him apart. As those built in his chest, he could feel a slow sort of shattering inside himself, something irreparable breaking at the hole of loss fixing itself a place in his chest, tearing off a good chunk of his heart to be sucked into the black space remaining as it did.

Sirius choked, hand to his mouth to bite at his wrist preventing the strangled sounds trying to escape. He thought of the photo in his room at home, the image of little Harry zooming past on a toy broom and nearly doubled over. The boy was gone, in the space of the few minutes it had taken for James and Lily to track him down and the danger to be realized, the child had been killed. Just a few minutes.

He moved into the room, edging around the grieving parents, his best friends, unable to look more than a glance at the bloody mess of the crib. What kind of spell could do that? What monster imagined a wave of the wand which left nothing but a cruel splatter of red behind where the rest of the body had been destroyed so completely? He'd never seen such a spell before. It made his stomach turn feeling sick with pure sorrow and utter rage and disgust all at once.

Whoever did this would pay with far more than just their life.

Kneeling beside the body that had been left, he examined the remains. It was easy enough to identify Peter since their friend was supposed to be in the house, but it was hard to tell how he'd died. Had he been hit with a killing curse and then the blast, or had it been the blast that killed him? Sirius pushed at Peter's shoulder, seeing that his friend's face and front seemed mostly untouched by the blast. Killing curse first then. So he'd died defending Harry – or not.

Why send Lily and James away? He had to have known this was coming so why was he dead?

Sirius squinted, seeing Peter's wand sticking from his pocket. Had he not had time to grab it? But, Sirius realized with a sinking dread, how had anyone known of the house's location without Peter telling them? Why had Peter drawn James and Lily away to him if he'd known someone might come to... to kill Harry...

On the street below, several more figures began to appear. With the light from all three wands shining above, it was easy for the newcomers to know where to go. There were civilians on the street, quickly being turned away with a few wand waves.

Behind Sirius, James finally began to sob, joining Lily on the floor as she turned to clutch at him, burying her face into his chest as he bent around her. They moved together, shaking and heaving with their cries. Sirius moved, shifting to James' side to put a hand at his shoulder. What more could he do? There was no way to heal this wound.

Sirius himself was having a very hard time breathing steadily.

Only when footsteps came up the steps did Sirius rise, shouldering the responsibility to draw the newcomers, Remus included, away to let the parents grieve. He waited, watching as the Order members quickly moved to contain the situation. Muggles handled, messages sent, fellow wizards questioned on whether or not they'd seen anything. Sirius told them what he could infer about what had transpired, starting with the truth of Peter being the secret keeper, the possible demise of the Dark Lord, and the death of both Peter and Harry.

It was nearly too much for him to handle, the loss of his godson, the pain at seeing James and Lily in such agony, threatening to collapse him at any sign of weakness. But Sirius was stronger than most, abandoned and unwanted by so many in his life, he knew how to straighten his shoulders and carry on. Just for a little while. Remus herded him alone, off to the side to a room alone on the first floor of the house where the others could not see. No more peering eyes waiting for him to fall apart. The moment the door closed Sirius began to apologize, the tears beginning again as he realized he had betrayed his friend for a traitor.

"I'm so sorry, Remus. I thought you were the spy, how could I have done that? It was Peter! I trusted him! I convinced them to put their trust in him and he's betrayed us all! I'm so sorry, Remus! This is all my fault..."

Without saying a word, Remus gripped Sirius tightly, hugging his friend with a pained sigh as Sirius let the grief overcome him. The war had introduced them all to the pain of great loss, but this... this felt so final. It seemed a tragic end had befallen the war for the few so close to its last death.

However, for all others, the hesitant celebration began before morning had even begun. The night sky filled with owls and what appeared to be shooting stars as the whispers of Voldemort's demise spread through the wizarding world. By morning the sudden disappearance of all the Death Eaters seemed only to confirm it. There were no more skulls in the sky, no more deaths save those that had been sacrificed for their peace.

Voldemort was dead. The Potter boy must have fulfilled the prophecy. Harry Potter's name became famous overnight, celebrated as a babe who had defeated the Dark Lord in some sort of mutual destruction. Days passed, turned into weeks and then months without word or sighting of Voldemort's return. However, the Potter's and those closest to them could not join in the celebration.

They mourned over an empty grave, their son lost to them before he could even truly comprehend what he had meant to them.

Just as whispers had spread of Voldemort's death, shortly after that night, word had spread from the Carrows to the rest of the remaining Death Eaters who were quickly falling into hiding. At least, word spread to those followers who could be trusted not to abandon the cause. They were very careful about who learned the truth of what had happened that night, knowing if the Order learned of it then they'd be hunted relentlessly. Now they had no Dark Lord to protect them.

Four of Voldemort's most loyal followers attacked the Longbottoms, torturing Frank and Alice to try and divulge the truth of the prophecy. Was Voldemort's demise true, and the Potter boy the real Chosen, or did the Dark Lord somehow yet live, only defied but not yet destroyed. Should they kill the Longbottom boy? Should they kill the young, stolen Potter?

His most loyal believed the Dark Lord to live, assured by the knowledge and faith they held that he must have survived. How could a child have killed him? If he awaited them to find him again, then they would search, and they would ensure they killed any who opposed his return. The Longbottoms, however, had no information on which child might be the one to kill the Dark Lord, and knew not what had truly happened to Voldemort. His location was lost to the followers, and they each captured as the few free Death Eaters who hadn't already went deep into hiding. Those already hidden went even deeper.

As for the boy, the night Alecto and Amycus Carrow returned to their home was the start of a long and dark journey for the lost Potter child. Alecto tossed Harry into the arms of a trembling grayish-green house elf by the name of Gully. No care for whether or not children should be tossed around like Quaffles.

"You are to take care of it, don't let it die, and never ever tell anyone about it. Do you understand?"
Gully nodded frantically, her large ears flapping as she cowered with the baby clutched, crying in her arms. "Yes, mistress! What does Gully call it, Mistress?"

Alecto thought, trying to recall the thing's name. No one would ever know it was alive, so why bother thinking up something new to call it? She couldn't think of anything new off the top of her head, but she was fairly sure of its name. Could babies even learn new names? Alecto had no experience to go by, and didn't rightly care anyways. Surely she thought, she had been an exceptionally bright child, but most had to be quite stupid. She hoped never to touch the thing again, only to keep it alive until it proved useful or not.

The Dark Lord would decide what to do with it when he returned. The right to kill the child was his alone after all the trouble it had caused.

"Bloody hell, just call it Harry. No one is to know about him. No one! Or I'll cut your limbs off in slices and then bash your worthless head in!"

"Alecto! Alecto this is madness! Let's just kill it already!" Amycus chased his sister as she stomped down the halls of the home they used to hide during the war. No Death Eater was foolish enough to practice the Dark Arts in the open of their own family manor – none except the proud Blacks.

"It destroyed the Dark Lord, how do we know we can kill it?"

That caused Amycus pause, looking a bit pale with fear. "It's a sniveling little child. A knife will do the trick."

"If the Dark Lord lives he'll wish to kill the brat himself."

The discussion was closed. The Carrows moved their hideout to another house, an abandoned property of their family long struck from Ministry records. The home sat not far from Hogsmeade, just far enough none would ever happen upon it by accident and close enough no one would expect them to be so near the village. It would take Mad Eye Moody himself to find them there, and the Carrows had no plans to stay in any place long enough to be found.

Gully was left to raise the boy, who, after a time, was mostly forgotten by his captors.

"Mum?" It's Harry's first word, reaching out blindly for anyone to hold him, but there was only Gully who panicked at the possibility of the Carrows hearing her be called such.

"No, Gully is a servant. Gully is Gully."

It took Harry a few weeks, but eventually his second word was Gully. Gully made sure to read to him so he learned lots of words, from books taken out of the Carrow manor where the new little twins had plenty of things that could be borrowed. Gully made sure to return them fast as she could, Apparating back and forth between the Carrow manor where she'd once lived in relative normalcy for a house elf of her time, to the hidden shack of a home where the child was to be kept.

"Gully, whas dat word?"

"Magic, Mister Harry." She read from the page, "The little wizard does magic with a wave of his wand."

"Whas a wand?"

"Wizards use wands to do magic." Gully pointed to the picture of the wizard and witch children on the page, tapping the wands in their hands. The little pictures moved slightly, their painted arms shifting to wave the wands which emitted little swirls of color.

"I do that?"

"Gully thinks so, Mister Harry. You are a Carrow, and the Carrows can do magic. One day you'll go to Hogwarts and learn how to do lots and lots of magic."

"Hog... Hog-warts?"

"Yes!" Gully nodded her head enthusiastically, ears flapping in a way that always made Harry laugh. "Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. All young witches and wizards receive their letters when they're eleven."

Harry, only a toddler still and struggling to understand the concept, looked up at Gully with a hopeful expression. He didn't know what a school was and he'd never met anyone other than the two very mean and loud adults who occasionally stormed through the house. Them and Gully. The whole world was their house and them two and the bit of forest just beyond their door.

"But... Mister Harry can't tell the Carrows when they come."

"Why?"

Gully's fingers tapped along the cover of the book in her hands, trying to think of the proper response for a child. In many ways, Harry was like a house elf child, needing to learn that his Masters could be violent if he wasn't very careful – could be violent even if he did everything completely right.

"Because... Master and Mistress Carrow... they might get angry if Gully teaches Mister Harry things. Master and Mistress... they're... not nice."

"Gully is nice."
Gully smiled, big blue eyes a little teary. "And Mister Harry is nice. We do what we are told, we stay out of the way, and we are good."

"And no mean?"

"No, Mister Harry, sometimes still mean anyways."

"Oh... ok..." Harry didn't understand it yet, but he was a fast learner. Gully made sure to remind him to stay out of the Carrows way and be extra silent when either of them were in the house – hiding from Aurors while they jumped from place to place.

She didn't know how to protect him, other than to raise him like she would one of her own. Far away from their old house and their little family, his true parents mourned him. Every day of every year, the Potters grieved their lost child while the wizarding world continued to celebrate the time of peace that had come. To the rest of the world, the price of freedom was well worth the reward. To those that lived with the cost, it was far too much to have paid.

Did you like it? Would you like to see more? Would you believe I have this whole thing outlined with excerpts written from here to the Battle of Hogwarts? Please leave a comment and let me know what you think if you liked it! You can also follow me on tumblr everydreamtilldawn