Wednesday June 5, 1991-Malfoy Manor

It was a special day at Malfoy Manor. It was the summer before Draco Malfoy was scheduled to attend Hogwarts, and today was his eleventh birthday. A breeze wafted in through the open windows in the sun parlor, keeping guests cool amongst the summer wildflower arrangements and elaborate water features. The weather, of course, was perfect, although if this was due to the extensive weather charms on the property rather than luck, no one would be the wiser. Most guests arrived from distant lands via Floo or portkey, as it was the middle of the summer social season when most families traveled abroad.

Narcissa watched her son unwrap his pile of presents with a polite smile, the sun filtering through the expensive stained glass windows and creating a halo effect around his young face. He looked much like his mother, a fact which Lucius detested because he thought it made him look feminine. Luckily, he possessed his father's sharp grey eyes and white-blond hair, which reached past his shoulders; Lucius refused to let him cut it. It was tradition for the male heirs of pureblooded families to have long hair. Draco hated it, but didn't dare raise a fuss.

Narcissa fondly remembered the day her son was born. Reflecting upon the past could be a dangerous thing for a woman in her position but, she thought absently, she was allowed to reminisce on her son's birthday, as mothers were prone to do. Draco had been a beautiful baby who rarely cried, and he nearly always slept through the night. He smiled and clapped his hands at the funny faces she pulled when Lucius was out of sight. Looking at him now, it was hard to imagine he was only eleven, despite his young appearance. He was a naturally reserved boy, with very few close friends, but Narcissa thought privately that she wished he hadn't been forced to grow up so quickly.

Several guests stood chatting with glasses of champagne in their hands, and as she observed them each carefully she noticed her husband striding purposefully down the stone path that cut through the raised poppy-field flower beds to meet her.

"He seems to like his gifts this year," Lucius commented.

"Yes." Narcissa agreed mildly. She felt odd having her husband this close to her. He rarely took a moment to speak with her, and she knew this occasion was for appearances only.

Unexpectedly, Lucius continued his conversation with her. "This will be his first year at Hogwarts."

"Indeed."

"It has been confirmed that this will also be the Potter boy's first year at Hogwarts." Lucius casually took a sip from the glass in his hand.

She looked at Lucius with a distant smile on her face. "An excellent opportunity," she offered smoothly. He smirked in agreement, raised his glass to her, and strolled away to mingle further with the guests. Narcissa internally shook her head. There had been time when she and her husband had seemed to read each other's mind; so alike were they. She could not quite say how it had happened, but as they had drifted apart, Lucius had forgotten who he had married. Certainly, this would cause him to vastly underestimate her in the inevitable conflict between them, but a part of her was saddened to know that he had forgotten falling in love with her subtle brilliance, political acumen, and her many other skills. She, on the other hand, could still vividly recall the passionate broom closet trysts, the heated debates, and the feeling that it was them against the world. She glanced over at Draco. He felt her gaze and looked up to meet her eyes. The corner of his lips turned up in a smile, gone so quickly that no one else had the opportunity to see it, but it only made her more determined. Now more than ever, she was sure she was doing the right thing. Narcissa angled her face down toward her glass and allowed herself a small smirk of her own, then lifted her head and set her shoulders. She had much to do before the night was done, and it had never been so important for her to stay alert and focused. Much depended on it.

She again allowed her gaze to wander in her son's direction, where she observed that he appeared to be finishing up with his presents. The plan had been solidified months ago, in preparation for the start of Draco's first year. Time had passed much more quickly than she had anticipated, but, she thought, she should have expected that. Time flies when plotting against one's husband, after all.

Saturday June 22, 1991-Little Whinging

It was a typical Saturday morning at Number 4 Privet Drive. Harry munched quietly on an orange while across the table his cousin Dudley stuffed his face with what had to be an unhealthy amount of greasy sausage. Aunt Petunia sipped primly at her morning tea and his Uncle Vernon gripped his mug of coffee tightly while his beady eyes scanned the newspaper. The sharp rap of the mail slot opening and closing disturbed the relative silence, and Uncle Vernon lowered his newspaper enough to be able to glare at his nephew through the horrid flowered centerpiece sitting in the center of the table.

"Get the mail," he ordered, but Harry was already out of his seat and moving resignedly toward the front door. As he bent down to collect the mail, one particular envelope caught his eye. It was made out of a strange thick material that he suspected to be parchment, with an old-fashioned wax seal on the back, though he had never seen such a thing in real life. The seal was divided into four quadrants containing a lion, a snake, some sort of bird, and an animal Harry wasn't familiar with. With no small amount of curiosity he turned it over, green eyes widening upon seeing the addressee.

Mr. H Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging, Surrey

"Hurry up boy!"

Harry straightened, silently rolling his eyes, and hurried back to the dining room, pausing for a moment as he passed the door to his cupboard under the stairs. His heart suddenly beating wildly, he made a split second decision and discreetly dropped the parchment to the floor and toed it under the door. He continued down the hall and obediently handed the rest of the mail to his uncle, who continued glaring but did not appear to have noticed his theft. His mind on the mysterious piece of mail waiting for him in his cupboard, he finished off the rest of his orange and set about cleaning the kitchen.

Later that evening after he finished the chores, he was finally allowed to go to bed. His aunt and uncle were absorbed in a telly show, Dudley had been put to bed (although he was fairly sure he could hear the sounds of a video game filtering down the stairs), and he was unlikely to be bothered again until morning. He yanked the cord to the dim and dusty light bulb over his head and turned the envelope over in his hands. Was it a joke from Dudley? Then again, he doubted Dudley knew what parchment was, much less how to write calligraphy. He carefully peeled the wax seal off and removed two thick pages of parchment from the inside. One appeared to be a list, and the other was a letter addressed to him. He read the letter first.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

The next page contained an elaborate list of school supplies including a cauldron, robes, and other such preposterous items. In the back of his mind Harry wondered why on earth a school would require students to purchase sleeping attire, but his thoughts were preoccupied with trying to decide if this was a hoax, and if so, why someone had gone to such lengths to set up such a useless prank. A small part of him wistfully began to dream about what it would be like if he were in fact a wizard. In a way, it felt right to him. His childhood was inundated with strange incidences that could not be explained. When his aunt tried to tame the mess that was his hair, it grew back exactly the same overnight. His teacher's wig inexplicably turned blue one day in primary school, and one day when running from Dudley and his lackeys, he accidentally ended up on top of a chimney.

In any case, he had no idea what they meant by "We await your owl," so there was nothing he could do. Anyway, if this was indeed a mean-spirited joke by Dudley and his friends, the worst thing he could do would be to believe the letter and begin dreaming about what it would be like to have magic. He harshly stamped out the hope kindling in his heart and hid the letter under his lumpy pillow. He pulled the thin blanket up to his chin and fell asleep quickly, tired after his day of chores, determined to forget the strange letter.

He awoke the next morning with the last bits of a dream fading from his mind. He lay still for a moment, trying to remember as much as possible. This particular dream was a reoccurring one, and it featured a flying motorbike. He had once brought up the dream to his uncle when he was much smaller, whose face turned purple and he began to rant about how such things did not exist, which then deteriorated further into a rant about Harry's "freakiness". Harry had long since given up trying to live up to the Dursley's version of "normal", as it appeared that no matter what he did, they continued to hate his very existence. More than that, but his aunt and uncle oftentimes seemed constantly on edge; terrified, as if awaiting a horrible, yet inevitable event.

Harry sighed and resigned himself to another day. His stomach rumbled and his thoughts turned to food. Today was Sunday, so it was likely his aunt would put him to work in the garden, where it would be easy to nick a few tomatoes and beans throughout the day. Gardening days were his favorite for this reason. He was left to his own devices for an entire day, with an unlimited supply of water in the form of the garden hose, and rows of food that no one would notice missing. The garden was a point of pride for Aunt Petunia; the rest of the neighbors all had one, and hers was the largest and most lush of them all…thanks to Harry. Her flower garden bloomed all summer, and her herbs, vegetables, and fruits trees flourished. She never deigned to enter the garden herself, considering it dirty work, and therefore left such chores to her nephew, and if his green thumb was suspiciously developed for a boy his age, it went unmentioned by the family in favor of the compliments they received from neighbors for being so self-sustained.

Harry's pleasant thoughts were interrupted by his cousin thundering down the stairs, followed by the typical amount of dust and spiders that then rained down upon him. He was met by Aunt Petunia's squeal of delight and Harry's heart settled like a weight in his stomach. There would be no gardening today. Today was Dudley's birthday. He would like as not be shipped off to spend the day with Mrs. Figg and her smelly cats. Harry had nothing against cats, but Mrs. Figg's cats reeked of cat urine. So did the rest of her house, for that matter. He could only be thankful he wasn't expected to clean her house as well. Harry rushed out of his room in the same hand-me-downs he wore every day to get breakfast started before his aunt could get angry for not having everything perfect on her son's birthday. He skirted around the enormous pile of presents and headed into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia turned away from her Duddykins long enough to say shortly, "Mrs. Figg broke her leg, you'll be coming to the zoo with us today." She was obviously none too pleased about this development, but Harry felt like jumping for joy. The zoo! He had never been to the zoo…or anywhere really. He started putting breakfast together with an extra skip in his step. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad, after all. Usually in public the Dursleys had to feed him full meals, or risk looking suspicious. Of course, Petunia's displeasure at bringing her nephew was nothing compared to Dudley's reaction upon hearing the news. He tried every trick he knew to change his mother's mind, including screaming, holding his breath 'til he turned blue, vomiting, crying, and holding a temper tantrum the likes of which had not been seen in the Dursley residence since he was six. Aunt Petunia was surprisingly unrelenting.

"But Diddy, we can't leave him here alone," she pleaded with her angry son, "He might get into your things!" The thought of the "freak" touching his beloved toys got through to him as nothing else could, and in the end he sat at the kitchen table with an impressive pout on his chubby face while his parents finished their morning routine, glaring all the while at his cousin.

They headed out to the car and Harry was pulled aside by Uncle Vernon and a fat finger was pointed at him. "No funny business, you hear that boy?" Harry nodded eagerly, as his uncle was already puffing angrily at the thought of his freak nephew doing anything strange, and he really wanted to go to the zoo and see the animals. Vernon narrowed his eyes and shoved Harry in the direction of the car, where he spent the rest of the ride squeezed in the tiny backseat of his uncle's hatchback with Dudley, who alternated between the silent treatment and painfully pinching his arm when Harry wasn't looking.

When they finally arrived, Harry's arm was sore and bruised, but it didn't dim his excitement at seeing the zoo for the first time. They spent the morning perusing various animals in enclosures, until Dudley began to whinge about being hungry again. They stopped for a snack and Harry was allowed an entire meal of fish and chips, which he eagerly gobbled down. It felt like his birthday instead of Dudley's! They next made their way to the reptile exhibit. A large boa constrictor slumbered in its enclosure, and Dudley pressed his fat face against the glass.

"Make it move!" He demanded of his father. Vernon rapped sharply on the glass, but to no avail. Dudley slouched off in search of more interesting animals, Piers following with a nasty smirk in Harry's direction. Harry read the description on the snake's glass. Born in captivity, stated the placard. He sighed sadly.

"Sorry about my cousin," he whispered, leaning his forehead against the glass. To his great shock, the snake's head suddenly swung up to his level and made eye contact. He froze, suddenly unsure about the quality of the flimsy glass between him and the gigantic snake.

"A sssspeaker?" The snake's tongue flickered out to taste the air.

Harry was frozen. Had the snake just spoken to him? He didn't have a chance to find out as Dudley suddenly appeared by his side and shoved him so hard he fell painfully on his side on the concrete floor. He glared up at Dudley in a haze of pain. The snake's head had followed the path of Harry's descent, and now it slithered close to the glass…except the glass was no longer present. Dudley was frozen much as Harry had been moments ago, except it was in fear rather than shock. The snake began to exit its enclosure, and along the way it wrapped its long tail around the fat boy and tipped him over the railing and into the enclosure. People were screaming left and right as they saw the giant constrictor grab hold of the boy, then hit the floor with a sound smack. He made a stop at Harry's right knee and tipped his head. Thankssss.

"N-no problem," Harry managed to stutter at it. The snake slithered away at a surprising speed. He stood up again just in time for Vernon and Petunia to discover that Dudley was now unreachable, as the wall of glass had once again made its appearance. Vernon turned on his nephew immediately, fist raised, face purpling. Harry shrunk into the floor, shaking. His family was never nice to him, but they had never beaten him before. Harry had finally crossed the line with his freakiness, and worst of all, he couldn't explain himself even if he wanted to. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, but no blow came. Instead, he heard his aunt give a high-pitched scream. A whirling silver mass had materialized between Harry and his uncle, and his uncle's meaty fist was immersed inside of it. He struggled to extract himself to no avail. He turned wide, terrified eyes toward Harry, who was still cringing on the floor, just as a couple of strange popping noises sounded throughout the reptile exhibit.

Saturday June 22, 1991-Ministry of Magic

The walls of the office shook as Tonks slammed the door vindictively behind her. She relished the expressions of the Aurors guarding either side of the door as they jumped slightly, then immediately felt guilty. It wasn't their fault she was in a bad mood after her talk with Head Auror Whitbolt. Honestly, the man was useless, not to mention rude and presumptuous. He had absolutely no sense at all. She huffed angrily to herself as she shuffled reluctantly down the corridor to Muggle Relations. Nobody looked up as she walked in, all absorbed in giant piles of paperwork and most of them looking perfectly miserable with their lives at the moment. She frowned at the oppressive silence enveloping the office and felt the telltale signs of her hair altering to fit her rebellious mood. "Obliviating. Hmph. Years of training and here I am, a bloody Muggle Minder." A low chuckle sounded from behind her.

"Nymphadora Tonks, I presume?"

She turned to see who had spoken and immediately flushed with embarrassment as she saw the black insignia on the robes indicating the rank of Senior Auror. She hastened forward to offer her hand, tripping over her own light grey Auror Recruit robes as she went. "Pleased to meet you sir, but I prefer just Tonks". He was a large, intimidating man, but he took her hand with a warm smile.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt. You are assigned to me for the time being." He glanced at her red hair, which stuck out like a sore thumb and was quickly fading to its typical bubblegum pink color along with her righteous fury, and raised an eyebrow. She blushed again. "I know you weren't expecting your first assignment to be Obliviating, but Whitbolt has a strong tendency to underestimate his graduates. He prefers to let them start off small." He sounded vaguely disapproving, but smiled genially nonetheless. "It isn't as bad as most think." Just as he finished speaking, an alarm that sounded like tinkling wind chimes went off within the office and Apparition coordinates appeared on the far wall, before the gentle tinkling suddenly swelled into an uproarious bell chiming. None of the office workers blinked an eye. "Ah, time to go to work! If you don't feel comfortable, you may simply observe, and I will let you know if I need your help. Just so you know, we normally attempt to approach with some measure of subtlety, but with a high priority alarm such as this…" He held out an arm, indicating for her to take it. Wrinkling her nose and praying the job was at least somewhat entertaining, she placed a hand on his arm and gave herself to the unpleasant sensation of Side-Along Apparition.

They materialized in a small, cave-like room with brightly lit glass tanks embedded in the walls all around them. Several Muggles were attempting to simultaneously push themselves through the exit, while keeping their attention on the ground with expressions ranging from fearful fascination to outright terror. Kingsley dropped his arm, pulling his wand in the same smooth motion, eyes quickly assessing the situation. The walls were lit with the glow of a magical shield of which Tonks had never seen the likes of. A small boy with dark hair cowered on the ground, while a large man had his fist imbedded within the shield, clearly caught halfway through the motion of trying to hit the boy. A morbidly obese little boy was also trapped behind a glass wall labeled Boa Constrictor and was sitting in a puddle of water with an expression of horror frozen onto his fat cheeks, with a thin, pointy woman pressed up against the glass shrieking at him. The aforementioned boa constrictor was nowhere to be seen. Tonks smiled kindly at the boy on the floor, kneeling next to him while through the noise she could hear Shacklebolt Obliviating the crowd behind her.

"Hello. Are you okay?" she queried, subtly checking the boy over for any injuries. Other than a few bruises on one arm, he appeared unharmed.

"Yes, thank you". He met her eyes squarely, with a hint of suspicion, and she noticed his eyes-a rare, bright green, much too unusual of a shade to belong to a Muggle. The incident had clearly been that of accidental magic from this young boy. She offered him a hand. "I'm Tonks."

"Harry." He stated simply, taking her hand as his eyes shifted to a point over her left shoulder. She turned and raised an eyebrow. The large man, obviously the fat child's father, was glaring at her. She rose to her feet, pulling Harry with her, just as Shacklebolt came to stand beside her, the other Muggles apparently gone. The man's pudgy face grimaced in thinly veiled fear and disgust at the presence of the large Auror. She instinctively pulled the small boy closer to her side. Shacklebolt paced the area around the shield for a moment before dissipating it with a wave of his wand.

"Now you, you just get away from us!" the fat man blustered as soon as he was free, a large vein bulging out of his forehead. He seemed terrified out of his wits, and Tonks noticed the thin woman with a face not unlike a horse was using her husband as a human shield. Given that he was several times wider than she, she was barely visible. Tonks felt a tug at her robe, and she looked kindly down into Harry's uncertain face.

"Please, my cousin…I didn't mean to, but could you…?" He trailed off, cringing at the hateful look the Muggle man sent his way. She felt a fierce surge of protectiveness that surprised her. She glanced at her partner and they exchanged a look full of meaning. She guessed that the fat man was Harry's uncle, and the amount of hostility emanating from the man was not normal.

"Tonks, if you would, please," Shacklebolt nodded at the child still trembling inside the exhibit. With a brisk nod, she Vanished the glass between them, keeping a hand on Harry beside her.

"Well go on boy, get out!" She tried to smile encouragingly at him, but the boy, seeing his father's reaction, was giving her a nasty look. It didn't look right on such a young face. He scrambled out and into the arms of his mother, also trying to hide behind his father, which was somewhat less effective given that he was already well on his way to surpassing his father someday. "You okay? We know it was an accident," she soothed, wanting more than anything to wipe that fear off the little boy's face.

"Shut up! Get away from him! He doesn't belong with you lot!" The man suddenly exploded. Harry stumbled away from Tonks and his uncle and into Shacklebolt as his uncle wildly flung a meaty fist at him, trying to get a hold of the child to pull him away. He took hold of Harry's shoulders and steadied him, giving a threatening look at the boy's uncle, who immediately shrank away. Tonks looked back and gave Harry a reassuring smile.

"Excuse me?" Tonks stepped lightly toward the uncle and tapped him on the nose with her stick, rage coursing through her. She dearly wished for the man to give her an excuse for a few curses…surely just a couple wouldn't hurt, she thought to herself. His eyes went comically large and he shuddered in fear. "He quite clearly does belong with us." She drawled.

"But, who are you?" Harry suddenly blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth, mortified. Tonks pursed her lips in displeasure. Children should never be afraid to ask questions.

"As I said before, I am Auror Tonks, and this is Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. We were alerted by the use of magic in a Mug-in a non-magic area" She attempted to explain without further confusing the poor thing. "We are…like magical policemen. We came to set this whole mess straight. This time of year is a busy one, being that it's almost the start of term and all these underage witches and wizards just got their letters. First time someone's ever set a snake on their cousin before though." She winked at him. Vernon appeared to be trying to talk again, but no sound was coming out. His beady little eyes were huge with terror, and Petunia was still trying to soothe her son while glaring at the two strangers in robes.

"No, no I didn't mean to, I wasn't setting a snake on him—" he looked horrified at the very thought, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Just joking. We know it was accidental. We did need to…do damage control, I suppose you could say though. Can't have a bunch of people running around London spouting off about some little boy who can make glass disappear, can we?"

The fat man went off like a mad person again at the word 'disappear'. "This boy will NOT be one of your kind! He was raised in a respectable, normal household, and we will not be having any of this nonsense in our life! We were kind enough to take the brat in and—" His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Tonks raised her eyebrows at her partner, who had apparently lost his temper and Silenced the man.

"My boy," Ignoring the purpling Muggle behind him, Kingsley spoke softly. "I realize this may all be a bit much to take in, but don't you worry. We'll get this all sorted out."

"I don't understand," Harry whispered.

Tonks knelt so that she was on his level, and looked into his eyes. She spoke gently, but her words were no less shocking. "You're a wizard, Harry."

Saturday, October 31, 1981-Godric's Hollow

Severus Snape knelt on the floor of the Potter residence, holding a red-headed woman in his arms. Her body was beginning to stiffen, and the shattered glass and splinters were digging into his knees, but he cared not. His glazed eyes looked blankly down at her face, which looked deceptively peaceful. He did not cry. He had loved Lily Evans very much as a teen, and he was still bitter about James Potter stealing her away, but time had dulled the love to nothing more than lingering feelings of affection. Nevertheless, Lily had been a dear friend of his. His Lord had sworn to keep her safe. Severus felt a rage building within him, the likes of which he had not felt since the days of his childhood, watching his Muggle father beat upon his mother.

Lord. Master. Words which Severus had grown to despise. He was now a young man in his twenties, forced to bow and scrape to a violent, terrible man. Lucius had tempted him into the Dark Lord's service at the ripe age of 17, with promises to keep the world safe from the likes of Tobias Snape. Severus hated and feared Muggles, and was easy prey for the Dark Lord. Voldemort was powerful, handsome, and charismatic. He regaled his forces with tales of a world where witches and wizards feared nothing, where exposure was no longer a threat, and where young witches and wizards began learning magic long before the age of eleven. Severus had thought to himself many times how different life would have been if someone had taken the time to teach him to control his magic. His accidental outbursts inevitably caused his father to go into a violent temper, which he took out on Eileen Prince. Severus hated her, too, for giving up. Serving Voldemort gave him power. Control. Respect. He was the youngest Potions Master in history, and his ingenious inventions and creations elevated his status with the Dark Lord until he was second to none.

But this. This, Severus reflected to himself in a daze, was not how it was supposed to be. Spending time with Lucius and the other Death Eaters had been a thrill-making grand plans for the future, having intelligent debates, feeling as if nobody could stop them. Over time it had become tedious, as the long discussions slowly gained the distinct flavor of revenge and bitterness. Then they went from tedious, to dangerous, and finally, to violent. Instead of discussing ways to integrate Muggleborns safely into their world, the Dark Lord began to speak of purging them from the world entirely, and other such dangerous notions. He could not say when it had happened, but Voldemort had gained a fanatic gleam in his eyes.

Now, as he gently lay down the body belonging to one of the wizarding world's brightest, this young Muggleborn witch, he made a resolution. Voldemort would pay for this.