Prologue

July 31st, 1980

James Potter was pacing nervously in the waiting room of St. Mungo's hospital. Albus had thought it unsafe, and had suggested a home birth, safe under the Fidelius charm, but James had been adamant that his child be born in a hospital. What if something went wrong? With the anti-apparition wards and lack of connection to the floo network they wouldn't be able to get to St. Mungos. No it wouldn't do. He demanded the safest and best for the birth of his child.

He heard a piercing scream fill the room and a bunch of people lifted their heads, before turning back to their newspapers. James wrung his hands, sweating nervously. Lily had broken through the silencing charms several times now - burst of accidental magic like that were common during childbirth - or at least that's what he'd been told while he was being ushered from the room with a broken arm.

"James, mate." Sirius walked up to him, patting his shoulders, "She's fine, okay? It can't be long now."

James knew that. He knew that any minute it would all be over, and he was going to be a father.

Oh merlin. A Father.

"I'm gonna throw up." James groaned, collapsing in a chair and bending over, holding his head between his knees.

He heard a chuckle to his left and looked up to glare at the man.

Frank Longbottom. The man had an audacity to laugh at him after the right mess he'd been just the day before. His own wife was currently a few doors down, nursing their newborn boy. He'd also opted for a hospital birth, and James knew that later in the day they would go into hiding of their own. James had a feeling it would be a while before he saw either of the Longbottom's again.

Remus wasn't there. With the war as bad as it was, things were becoming very difficult for his werewolf friend in public. He wasn't sure where Peter was. He been there earlier but the sounds of screaming woman going through labour had made him queasy and he seemed to have run off - probably to find something to eat. James knew he could depend on him to return in an hour or so with enough sandwiches and treats for all of them to celebrate the arrival of his child.

"We've come up with a name." Frank said suddenly, obviously trying to distract James, "Neville. Named after my grandfather - he was a great man. Neville Longbottom. Good strong name."

James nodded absentmindedly. He wrung his hands, thinking of the names he and Lily had decided.

Lily had been determined to use her family naming traditions - and James, of course, couldn't deny her anything. If it was a boy, his middle name would be James. Apparently naming the first born boy after their father was a family tradition, and her sister had named her own child Dudley Vernon.

He wrinkled his nose. Dudley - what a horrid name.

And if it was a girl, she would continue with her families floral design. This James loved, and he'd gone over several possible names. Eventually they'd decided on Briar-Rose, or just Rose for short. He'd suggested Hazel for Witch's Hazel but Lily had just tweaked him on the nose, commenting that Hazel was a colour not a flower.

James, of course, had his own say. If he had a boy, he would name him after his grandfather Henry, the last Potter to sit on the Wizengamot and a champion of Muggle rights. His grandpa Harry had always been a blast to be around, but had died when James was very young.

At first James had wanted to name his son Fleamont, after his father who died only a few months earlier - but Lily had quickly veto'd it. Instead, James had decided that if it was a girl her middle name would be Euphemia, after his grandmother.

Harry James Potter

Briar-Rose Euphemia Potter.

He wrinkled his nose as he realized what a mouthful of a name his daughter would have. Goodness what were they thinking? They would have to change something, the poor girl...

"Mr. Potter?"

James leapt to his feet, his nausea forgotten in his haste to find who had spoken. What was it? Had something gone wrong? Was Lily alright? Was the baby okay?

There was a healer standing in the doorway, wearing the horrid lime green aprons with the 's crest on it, smiling wildly.

James let his breathe escape him in relief as he rushed over, letting her lead him back into the room. He burst inside, expecting the worst.

Lily was laying in bed, looking pale and exhausted. There were dark bags under her eyes, her hair was half up in a ratted messy bun and there was still sweat on her brow. But she was simply beaming as a healer was slowly dropping their newborn baby into her arms.

"It's a girl." The healer told him quietly, and James felt his chest swell up with pride.

He had a girl. A baby girl.

He rushed over to his wife, and Lily looked up at him with her bright green eyes, filling with tears of what he hoped was joy and not residual pain. She looked so beautiful that he forced himself to memorize her face in this moment, so he could remember it for the rest of his life.

"A girl." Lily gasped, crying lightly as she held the small baby in her arms, "And, Merlin, look. She already has your hair."

Lily was right. Baby Briar-Rose Potter already had a mess of black hair on her head. Her eyes were squinty, but from what little he could see was a milky blue. He remembered reading in one of the baby books Lily had bought that newborns often had blue or grey eyes when born, which then settled into their natural colour as they grew.

He hoped she would have Lily's eyes.

"Briar-Rose Euphemia Potter." Lily said out loud, holding her in her arms as the baby squinted up at her mother

James forgot everything he had been thinking in the waiting room. It was a perfect name - a little wordy perhaps, but it was her name. The name of their baby girl.

With reluctance, James and Lily Potter eventually allowed the nurse to take their daughter away, so that they could rest. Lily fell asleep almost immediately, and James kissed her forehead, wandering out to find a place to sleep, knowing that tomorrow would be a busy day.

For a moment he thought about the prophecy. He had never had much stock in Divination, but Albus had been convinced, and James trusted the old man. Could his little baby girl really be the downfall of the greatest dark wizard of all time? He sure hoped not - she was so small, so innocent. Nothing as evil and tainted as Voldemort should ever touch her.

And besides. She was only a baby. She wouldn't be fighting anybody for many, many years to come


August 27th, 1979

Severus Snape wasn't looking to change the fate of the war as he stepped into the Hog's head for a well needed drink. He had only just finished his long examination for his Potion's Mastery, and after a long gruelling five years it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He could have gone to a much better establishment, but he wanted peace and quiet. The school term hadn't started yet, so the quaint village of Hogsmeade was empty, with only the actual inhabitants milling around, shopping for various food and goods. But even they wouldn't come into the Hogshead, preferring the warm and welcoming Three Broomsticks with their bright open spaces and buxom owner Madame Rosmerta.

Snape hated it there. It brought back bad memories of his school years and the students he attended with. He wrinkled his nose and walked into the dark pub. There was only two other customers - an older man missing all his teeth, chewing on some kind of leaf as he drink from a large mug of Goblin ale - and a young woman in a strange getup, with large bottle-cap glasses and frizzy hair drinking what looked like a cup of tea.

Snape ignored both of them and walked up to the bar, ordering a strong drink and sitting, smiling lightly to himself. He had done very well. He knew he would receive his Mastery, and would be the youngest to do so. Yes, he was very pleased.

And he would be pleased as well.

Snape smirked to himself lightly. Lord Voldemort treasures those most useful to him. Lucius Malfoy, who contributed millions towards the war effort and had half the ministry in his front pocket. Bellatrix Lestrange, a prodigy in her own right with a particular penchant for torture curses. And now Severus Snape, a half-blood with a potions mastery.

He took a long draw of the firewhiskey, drinking a silent salute to his lord.

There was a jingle at the door and Snape half turned to see who had entered.

He felt all the blood leave his face as Albus Dumbledore himself walked into the bar. Snape swallowed, and doubled checked to make sure his left forearm was good and covered. As far as he was aware, nobody knew that he had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, and he would like to be sure that it remained that way.

But Dumbledore wasn't interested in him, instead he was wandering over to the strangely dressed woman with the bottle glasses, the same jovial attitude that annoyed Snape so much.

"Ah, Sybil!" Dumbledore wandered over to the woman, "Thank you for meeting me. Apologies for the tardiness."

The woman stood, "It's no matter, I saw it in the leaves." She motioned to her empty cup which Snape noticed in humour had a tea bag in it, not loose tea leaves.

"Fantastic, well let's take this somewhere a bit more private, hmm?"

Snape let out a breathe as Dumbledore took the woman down the hall that lead into the various rooms that Pub had, but most often didn't use.

Dumbledore was a different beast. They said he was the only one his Lord feared, but Snape wasn't certain. He'd never seen fear when Voldemort spoke about the old headmaster, just unbridled hatred. The kind of hatred that went beyond being on opposite sides of a war, but seemed a far more personal hatred. The fiery kind of rage that settled deep in your gut when you even thought of the person.

He wondered how pleased his Lord would be if he got something good on Dumbledore.

Snape froze, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced down at the cup in front of him. He would be rewarded, greatly. He smirked to himself as he thought about the sour looks on Lucius and Bellatrix's faces when they saw their Lord celebrating a Half-Blood.

Snape tilted his head, drowned his drink and turning to the old bar keep, asking where the restroom was. Thankfully he pointed down the same hall Dumbledore had wandered down and he nodded, tossing a few sickles down for his drinks and walking to the restroom.

As he walked back through the hall he quickly cast a spell of his own making to hide the sound of his footsteps. He listened as he walked, trying to spot the room that Dumbledore had wandered into. He wondered if the old professor would bother put up any silencing charms of his own as he walked through the darkly lit hall.

Finally he heard a shrill giggle and he smirked to himself, zeroing in on a door at the end of the hall which had the door opened an inch. Snape snorted, the door wasn't even closed?

As he approached he could hear the voices more clearly, and he kept dangerously still as he leaned against the wall nearest the door, listening quietly.

"I must say." Dumbledore spoke, "It's good luck that you contacted me. I was just about to give up and remove it from the curriculum this year."

"No, no, no luck." The woman spoke with an airy voice, "I saw your need of course. My crystals had been acting up all summer and I couldn't quite place it. But once I interpreted their message I contacted you as fast as possible. It wouldn't do to not teach the students one of the most important magical arts."

Snape rolled his eyes. A divination teacher. He never took the class himself, he doubted he had the sight and he had better things to do than drink tea and hallucinogens and try to interpret his own highs.

"Of course, that must explain it then." Dumbledore spoke cheerfully, "Well everything seems in order. Of course you'll be free to use the north tower for your class and there's living quarters that I hope will be up to your standards. Classes start on September first and...Sybil?"

Snape had felt rather annoyed by the boring job interview. He'd been hoping to hear something interesting to bring his Lord. But the worry that suddenly entered his voice pipped his attention and he leaned closer to the open door to listen.

"Sybil, are you alright."

The woman spoke again, her voice thick and dark. It sounded forced, like the words were literally forcing their way past her lips.

'The one with the power to defeat the Dark lord Approaches, born to those who've thrice defied him, born as the seventh month die. The dark lor-"

"What do you think you're doing, sonny!"

Snape umped, turning with wide eyes to see the barkeep glaring at him. He hissed as the man, surprisingly strong for his age, gripped his robes and dragged him back out into the pub, and then outside into the road.

Severus Snape stumbled a little bit, looking to the world a drunk who'd been thrown out of the local pub. But his mind was reeling. What had that been? She'd been interviewed for divination - had it been a prophecy? Was it real? Or fake?

Either way, the Dark Lord would want to know.

Before the barkeep could get Dumbledore and inform him of the spy outside the door, Snape turned on the spot and disapparated.


Voldemort was silent.

The air was tense as the small group of death eaters waited silently for his reaction. Severus Snape, the young half blood potion prodigy, was kneeling in front of him, his head bowed low as he waited for his master's reaction.

He ran the words over and over in his brain, feeling incensed that the man had been caught before hearing the entire thing. Prophecies were usually vague, and had the annoying habit of being self fulfilling.

Bt the content was disturbing. Someone who could defeat him. That was...unfortunate. A child from the sound of it, one that hadn't been born yet.

But he didn't know the rest of the prophecy. Could he risk acting on it?

Could he risk not?

He was so close to victory. Half the Ministry was his, thanks to Lucius Malfoy. It wouldn't be long until Bagnold was his, or her successor. It mattered little to him. He couldn't afford to leave anything to chance, and this Prophecy was a gamble he couldn't afford.

"End of July?" Nott spoke out loud, breaking the silence. "There's got to be hundred born then..."

"It said approached." Barty Crouch pointed out, probably one of his most intelligent death eaters, "Who's all expecting."

Voldemort saw several members stiffen in anxiety.

"Malfoy." Bellatrix gave him a deadly grin, "Isn't Cissy expecting?"

"Due in June." Lucius replied quickly.

"Parkinson." Nott listed off, "Crabbe and Goyle. My wife is as well."

"I doubt it'll be one of our own." Malfoy snorted, "Who else."

Nobody noticed Snape stiffen at Voldemort's feet.

"The Longbottoms." Goyle grunted, "Marissa saw Alice Longbottom in the ward. Greengrass, Potter and Bones. Abbott as well. Haven't seen Weasley but she's about due to pop another one out innit she."

There was a round of laughter, but Voldemort ignored it, finding the joke uncouth.

"Malfoy." He spoke for the first time since Snape had delivered the news. Everyone wen silent as they turned to their master, waiting for his response, "I need to know who is expecting in Late July or early August."

Malfoy nodded, bowed, and spun on the spot.

Voldemort tilted his head. His followers would expect a pureblood, and most likely look into the Abbotts, Greengrass's, Wealsey's or Longbottoms - all Light families and members of the Sacred Twenty Eight. The Bones were a half blood family, and the Potter child would be as well. He supposed there was always the chance of a Mudblood, but he didn't dare voice those thoughts in front of this group. He earned their support as a hater of Mudbloods as well as muggles. No, he couldn't be defeated by anything less than the purest of blood. And to them, there was nobody with blood purer than his.

"Check the Smith's." Voldemort spat, thinking about Hepzibah. He didn't know if the current Smiths were related but he didn't want to take the chance, "And the McLaggens'." Both families ere said to be descended from founders, but there wasn't much to back these claims up.

There was a nod and Crabbe and Goyle vanished.

"Severus Snape." Voldemort spoke, smirking down at his follower in a closest thing to a smile he could get to, "You have done well."

Reaching out with his mind he could feel a burst of pleasure at the recognition coming from the man, followed by a brief glimpse of worry.

Voldemort ignored it and quickly dismissed his death eaters. They would find the child soon enough. And then he would dispose if them, quickly.

The whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth, which in itself was unsatisfactory. He'd never felt hesitant to kill before. But then again, he'd never felt the need to kill children, infants. They weren't a threat to him. Killing babies was for the weak, insecure.

But he was so close...he couldn't take the risk. It would be fast, and quick.

He leaned back in the ornate chair at the head of the long table, looking over his plans.

Yes, it wouldn't be long now.


October 15th, 1981

Lily Potter was exhausted.

She had collapsed on the couch, groaning lightly as she reached behind her to dig out a child's toy that she'd sat on, tossing it aside. She'd only just gotten Rose to sleep. The poor girl was experiencing a bit of separation anxiety, and she was sure that the tense atmosphere of the home wasn't helping.

She knew that James was getting increasingly annoyed with the solitude. He wanted to fight, it just wasn't in his nature to hide and wait. He was becoming antsy.

Lily felt it too. She hated staying inside. She longed to take Rose outside - to the local park and to spend time with other children her own age. The war was starting to feel never ending, and Voldemort only grew stronger. She wondered how much longer they'd be in hiding. A year? Five Years? A decade? Or would they spend the rest of their lives hiding. Hiding Rose from the monster who wanted her dead.

"Lily?"

Lily turned to see James wander into the room, his hair still wet from the shower and glasses perched on his nose.

"Rose is asleep." Lily said softly, smiling as he walked over and sat down beside her, wincing as he pulled out yet another toy.

"Peter's coming by." James said suddenly, a frown on his face.

Lily felt her heart jump to her throat. Peter was their only contact with the outside world, he usually showed up once ever other week to give them news. Every time he came Lily prayed he brought news of Voldemort's death or defeat and that they were free to come out of hiding.

She stood up, starting to grab various toys and tossing them into the toy chest in the corner.

"Come on Lils." James chuckled, "Wormy doesn't care about the mess."

Lily ignored him, working to clean up the living room. She knew he wouldn't care, but she was now a bundle of nervous energy, all previous exhaustion seemed to have left as they waited for Peter.

A few moment that there was a nervous knock at the door.

James leapt up, wandering over to the door. He hesitated on the other side and called out, "Who's there."

"It's me James."

James relaxed, but continued to ask the question they'd prepared, "What's Remus' animagus form?"

"He doesn't have one, he's a werewolf."

James immediately opened the door and beamed, but something on the other side made him startle. "Wormy?"

Lily frowned and wandered over, blinking in surprise to see, not only Peter, but Alice and Frank. Alice was holding Baby Neville in her arms - a small chubby baby with a tuft of brown hair and was sucking on his fist as he slept. She had tears running down her face and Frank was rubbing her back.

"What happened?" Lily asked, a dread sinking into her stomach.

Peter was twitching, his eyes going back and forth for enemies as he ushered the Longbottoms into the house. "Marlene is dead."

Lily felt her stomach lurch and the blood drained from her face. "What?" She gasped, her voice little more than a whisper.

Alice let out another sob and Lily rushed forward to take Neville from her. Alice and Marlene had been best friends at school. Lily had been friends with them as well and the thoughts of the ever bubbly Marlene having been killed made her feel sick to her stomach.

And it explained why they were here now. Marlene had been their secret keeper. Whether or not the secret was shared or not the Fidelius charm around their home had been rendered inert.

"Good thinking bringing them here." James nodded at Peter.

Peter shrugged, his his cheeks warmed at the praise, "It seemed like the best idea."

Lily brought Neville upstairs and gently placed him in the crib alongside Rose. She waited carefully to see if either of them could wake up and sighed in relief as they slept quietly. After that she ran to the hall closest, grabbing blankets and pillows and quickly made up the guest bedroom which had remained empty until then. She expanded the double bed to better accommodate them and transfigured some sheets into curtains that she hung up over the bare window.

Once she was finished she came back downstairs to see Peter talking to James in hushed whispers as Frank and Alice sat on the couch.

"Gideon and Fabian were killed last week." Peter whispered lowly, "By Rosier."

"Damnit." James hissed, then sighed, "How's Remus and Sirius?"

"Sirius is fine. He's fought in a few raids, but he's unscathed. Remus...well..." He trailed off uncomfortably.

Lily swallowed nervously. She knew they suspected Remus of having turned, but she found it hard to believe. He'd been working hard to try to keep the werewolf packs on their side, or at the very least not on Voldemort's side and had some success.

"He's still with the packs." Peter finished quietly.

Lily pointed her wand at the cupboard and watched several cups flew out and filled up with piping hot tea. She sent them out to everyone and quickly drank her own, hoping the warmth would quell the coldness that had spread out to her arms.

At least the children were safe. That was the important thing, after all. And as long as Peter remained their secret keeper, they were safe.

She took a deep breath, yes. Rose was safe.


October 31st, 1981

Voldemort stood in front of the village, his fingers moving over his wand as he stood there, studying the inhabitants.

James and Lily Potter were sitting on a love-seat, little Briar-Rose sitting on their laps, babbling nonsense and waving around what looked like a miniature beaters bat. On the floor, Frank Longbottom was playing with his son Neville, as Alice Longbottom spoke to him with a large smile on her face.

None of them looked out the large front window, and none of them saw the cloaked figure standing at the edge of the path.

Muggle children were running around the central town square, dressed in their various costumes and screaming in delight as adults supervised them. None of them stopped at the home he stood in front of, the building invisible to their eyes.

Voldemort smirked to himself as he walked towards the wrought iron gate. This would be it - the night he finally destroyed what he saw as the last great obstacle against him. Once the children were dead, he could make his move against the Ministry. It would be his after only a few months. And after that - Hogwarts.

He opened the gate and walked through. He hadn't taken any of his death eaters with him. He wouldn't need them.

He walked up the front path, stood in front of the door for a moment and hesitated.

Then with a flick of his wand, the door blasted open.

"Lily!" He heard one of the men, Potter most likely, yelled, "Alice, take the children upstairs, we'll hold him off."

There was a scurry and Voldemort hissed, "Avada Kedavra" at the woman. Longbottom yelled and jumped in front of the spell, saving his wife, and collapsed to the floor. His wife shrieked, but Lily Potter grabbed and yanked her up the stairs with the children.

Voldemort turned and cast another green spell at James Potter who collapsed to the ground, his glasses skewered. He hadn't even had a wand.

He stepped over the two men, moving towards the staircase the two women had climbed up. One of them had had the foresight to cast several wards and hexes along the way, but he cut through them like water. He commended them for attempting to prevent the inevitable.

He quickly spotted the room with the curly Pink letters spelling out 'Briar -Rose' and blasted the door apart.

There was a screech and he relished in the fear permeating the air. He sauntered into the room, looking like he had all the time in the world.

"Please don't." The blond haired Alice Longbottom begged, standing in front of the crib holding the two children. One was crying, its piercing cream itching at his mind. Standing in front of the blonde was Lily Potter, who was holding her arms out, in a last ditch effort to save her friend and child.

"Please, not Rose. Not Neville. They're just babies, please-"

"Stand aside." He snapped at her, his remind recalling the promise he'd made Severus Snape. "Stand aside!"

"No," Lily sobbed, "Not Rose, kill me instead, but leave her alone."

Voldemort hissed, offering a single warning, "Move aside!"

But Lily Potter ignored him, begging him not to kill her only child. Voldemort knew it would end this way, no matter what he had promised Snape.

He sent a burst of light at her, and with a startling scream she collapsed to the ground.

Alice longbottom glared at him, her trembling lip the only sign of fear as she glare at him silently, but unmoving from her position in front of the children.

He hadn't promised anyone he would save her, so with a single spell, she was dead.

Voldemort stepped over their fallen bodies, not feelings anything but a twinge of annoyance over the spilt magical blood. The Longbottoms and Potters were long lines of families. It would be a shame to have to end them now.

He peered into the crib, looking at the small children. The crying boy still didn't have much hair, and his entire face was bright red and covered in tears. The other child was a small girl with hair that curled under her ears and a small butterfly clip in her hair. She looked up at him with a wobbling lip and wide green eyes, the same colour of the curse he would use to murder her.

Before he could second guess himself, Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the girl. As he did so, the crying boy fell silent and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Avada Kedavra."

And then pain. Horrifying, searing pain. He felt his entire body fold in on himself as his vision burst green. He screeched, reaching out with everything, anything he had, trying to remain here and now and not be ripped apart and scattered through the wind.

And then he was gone. The room was destroyed, the roof of the building torn off in an explosion hat nobody had seen.

And Rose Potter started to cry. On her forehead there was a small, lightning bolt shaped cut. The blood from the cut started to leak over her face, getting into her eyes and mouth and staining her clothes.

"Dada!" Rose Potter cried, seeing her mother laying on the floor - she called for the only person she knew, and the only word she could say.

And in that moment, Neville Longbottom performed his first bit of accidental magic.

It was a rather extraordinary thing. The young boy, seeing his friend cry out for her father, somehow managed to banish young Rose Potter from the nursery, only for her to reappear back in the living room, onto the love seat where Neville Longbottom had seen her sitting with her father only moments before.

And from her spot on the love-seat, Rose Potter continued to cry, as Neville Longbottom sat upstairs in the destroyed nursery, waiting to be discovered...


As it was, over the next several hours, many people came to the house.

The first person to arrive, was Severus Snape.

Snape had heard from Bellatrix that the location of the Potters had been found. As soon as he got the address he was gone, rushing towards the house with a sharp panic in his stomach.

When he saw the house he felt ill. Half the building had been destroyed, however he noticed with a frown that the dark mark hadn't been placed over it. But his own panic stopped him from thinking things through as he rushed into the home.

In the living area he saw two bodies laying on the floor - a messy batch of dark hair made him pause, but since there was so sign of the fiery red he continued to search the home.

He rushed through the kitchen, the den and offices, but could find nothing. Without a word he rushed up the stairs, looking for her, praying that she had gotten away, praying that he wouldn't find her.

He spotted a burst open door and felt his heart plummet to his stomach. He walked over to it, and looked inside.

He felt himself fall to his knees as his heart crumpled into his chest. Laying on her back, her large green eyes open and unseeing, was Lily. His Lily. Her hair was fanned around her head in a perfect halo, and one hand was still outstretched towards the crib.

Without a word he reached out to her, sobbing lightly when he felt her hand. She was still warm, there was still red in her cheeks and her hair still smelled like lavender and her skin like vanilla - the same lotion she had used when they were in school together.

The Dark Lord had lied. He had promised! As a reward for bringing him the prophecy. It had been the one thing, the only thing, he had ever ask, that he would ever ask.

And as he held Lily, pressing one last kiss to forehead, he knew he would never follow the man again.

A soft cry echoed in the air and Snape felt his eyes snap up. He looked passed the slumped over form of Alice Longbottom and towards the crib where he noticed with surprise, a small child. A baby, that was crying and watching him with large baby blue eyes.

Longbottom.

Snape frowned. How was the child still alive? Why was he still alive, even when his precious Lily was dead? Why had the Dark Lord not finished the job?

Somehow, as Severus Snape held he body fo Lily Potter, he realized with a smug satisfaction that the Dark Lord, somehow, had failed.


The second person to visit was Sirius Black.

The man had been to visit Peter, and had noticed his apartment empty, and looking like it hadn't been lived in in weeks. In the bit of his stomach he knew something was wrong.

He found a single piece of paper laying on the table, her eyes searching over it as he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Why would Wormtail write this down? Was he really this stupid? Or had he purposefully told someone.

The Potter's can be found at 12 Church's Way, Godric's Hollow

Sirius crumbled up the piece of paper and ran out of the apartment - he needed to check on them. He needed to make sure they were alright.

He leapt onto his motorbike, revving the engine and quickly taking it to the skies. He cursed under his breathe that the damned thing couldn't go fasted, and he could feel the cold winter air on his face as he rushed through the night sky to get to Godric's Hollow

He landed roughly in the dirt in the main square, not caring how may muggles saw him.

Just like Snape, he found the house easily, and felt his heart cry out at the sight of the destroyed home. He rushed for the door, gripping the edge of the doorframe as he looked into the living area.

"James." He cried out, seeing the form on the floor. He rushed over, hoping, praying, that he'd only been stunned. But as he collapsed next to him it didn't take long to see that his best friend was dead.

He felt a sob escape him, and tried to push it down. They had failed. All their plans to keep them safe had failed. He saw Frank laying beside him and couldn't find in himself to wonder what he was doing there.

A soft gurgling noise caught his attention and he looked up, noticing for the first time that his eyes had filled with tears. When they escaped and fell over his cheeks his vision cleared and what he saw felt like the smallest miracle in what had become his worst nightmare.

Sitting on the couch, was little Briar Rose. His God-Daughter who was grinning at him and reaching her hands out, completely unaware of what was happening around them.

Sirius stumbled to his feet, walking over and swept her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest as he sobbed lightly.

And then all at once, the pain and despair was replaced by rage. Burning hot and maddening.

Peter had betrayed them.

He had to have. The fidelius charm was still in place, so he wasn't dead. He must've given them up.

Without another word, he gently lowered Rose down to the couch. He couldn't just leave her there, but he needed to go after Peter, before the little rat vanished and disappeared forever.

Without a word he pulled his wand out, whispering 'Expecto Patronum"

A shaggy silver dog appeared, looking just as sad and forlorn as he'd been.

"The Potter's Can be Found at 12, Church's Way, Godric's Hallow. Come quick" He spoke to the dog, and sent it off to Dumbledore. The old headmaster would know what to do.

And without another word, Sirius Black left the home, and his Motorcycle, turning on the spot to start his hunt.


The last people to arrive at Godric's Hallow that night were Rubeus Hagrid, and Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had felt a pain of sadness hit him once Sirius Black Patronus as reached him. He knew he had to act quickly. A few hours beforehand, madness had erupted all over the Ministry as hundred of people under the imperious curse had suddenly been released. Following that several previous Death Eaters had turned themselves in, saying they had been controlled beyond their will, and each one of them had showed them the faded Dark Mark. No longer was it the burned black ink seared into their arms, but rather a faded red, almost brown, that was barely visible.

It hadn't taken a genius to understand that somehow, beyond all expectation, the Dark Lord had fallen.

So when Sirius' patronus reached him, he hadn't been surprised. Had the prophecy been fulfilled so soon? It seemed impossible.

"Come on Hagrid." Dumbledore whispered, "And prepare yourself."

Hagrid was already crying, tears soaking his large beard, and his hand shook as he followed Dumbledore. Hagrid might not be the most powerful, or graceful man alive. But his Loyalty was unwavering, and in these trying times loyalty had become hard to come by.

What had Sirius done...?

He walked through the open door, and closed his eyes at the sight of James and Frank. He heard Hagrid let out a sob and Dumbledore walked over to the bodies and knelt down, reaching out a hand to close their eyes.

"Dumbledore, sir."

Albus looked back at Hagrid, who was pointing at the couch. he turned to see what Hagrid was looking at and blinked in surprise.

A small chid was laying on the couch.

Albus felt his heart crumble as he walked over to the small baby, little Rose Potter.

"Is she...?"

Dumbledore leaned down and with surprise noticed her chest rising and falling, "Asleep."

"Oh, thank merlin." Hagrid let out a wailing sob, "She's jus' a little one. I thought..."

Albus reached forward and picked up the child, who babbled in her sleep a bit, sticking her thump into her mouth. He gently passed her to Hagrid, who gently cradled her in his arms.

"The upper floor was destroyed." Dumbledore whispered, looking towards the stairs.

They walked towards the stairs, and after a few spells to make sure the building was stable, Albus climbed up towards the second floor.

The door to the nursery was blasted inwards, and he faulted only a moment before entering the room.

Hagrid let out another mighty roar as they saw the sight of Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom. Albus did the same for them, closing their eyes and moving Alice to lay on the floor.

And then he peeked into the crib.

Once again, he was startled to see little Neville Longbottom staring back at him with the side blue eyes.

"He's alive." Hagrid was shocked.

"It seems so." Dumbledore frowned. He turned and looking at the roof, which had been blasted open to the nights sky. It was obvious that whatever had happened, had happened in this room. He looked back at Neville, deep in thought, before he eyes fell on something beside the child.

His eyes widened as he reached down, slowly grabbing a long white wand, 17 inches long and made of yew.

It was Voldemort's wand.

It left Dumbledore without a shred of doubt. He reached for his own wand and pressed it to Voldemort's.

"Priori incantatem" He casted.

He watched as a burst of green light hovered over the wand, not once, but five times.

Five curses cast.

But only four bodies.

Before the first killing curse, Dumbledore heard a crack and knew that it was the ghost of his apparition.

He frowned, and looking down at Neville Longbottom, the puzzle pieces coming together into his mind.

He killed Frank and James first, he either didn't see Rose or decided to come back for her. He then followed Lily and Alice upstairs before killing them and then...

Turned his wand on Neville Longbottom.

He gathered up Neville into his arms, realizing that he held the child of the prophecy in his arms. He was unsure if Voldemort would be gone for good, but either way, Neville would be the one to kill him in the end.

And without another word, Dumbledore and Hagrid took the two small children, and left the cold home.


Neville Longbottom would go to his Grandmother, the poor woman would have to be told.

Dumbledore was unsure about Rose. He thought maybe Peter, Remus wouldn't be allowed to take a child. But the events of the next day would leave him with no choice.

On the night of November 1st, Dumbledore left Briar-Rose Potter on the front step of Number 4 Privet Drive with a small letter which explained that Lily Potter had died, and that they were the only people who could take care of her.

No blood ward. No protection.

And no real reason for the Dursley's to keep her.


A/N-Welcome to the OC-Stravaganza where i post all the OC fics I've found on my computer! This one isn't so much an OC as it is a fem!Harry potter, but it's gonna be AU enough that it might as well be OC. I have another Harry Potter OC posted with this called Loyalty or Death which ya'll can check out if you liked this :)

This story is gonna be a bit darker, Rose Potter isn't gonna be a good guy in this. But I love her all the same.

Everyone is free to follow me on tumblr amarysue

Until Next Time,

Amary