Till Death Do Us Part

Prologue

Let me tell you a story of love, death and pain. A story of repetition.

Once upon a time there were two boys. Both pureblood, both raised so differently. One was raised with a loving family. A family that let be whoever he wants and do whatever he wants. He was free. The other was raised in an abusive, strict family. A family that trained him to be the perfect pureblood heir in case his older brother fails. He basically lived in a prison.

As the boys grew older, they both went to a school for Magic. A school called Hogwarts. One was sorted into the house of Gryffindor while the other was sorted Slytherin. Houses of enemies. Houses of opposites. Gryffindor hosted the brave, bold, courageous, and adventurous students. Or as seen by most, the light students. Slytherin hosted the ambitious, shrewd, cunning, strong leaders, and achievement-oriented students. Or as seen by most, the dark students.

Though the two met through the brother. The brother and the loving boy became best friends on the train in their first year. They then became roommates together with two other boys. Those four boys became best friends. No one could tear them apart. They became the marauders of mischief. When the hateful boy cake to Hogwarts, he was so upset by his brother’s friend group that he became angry. The brother kept trying to connect and pull him into adventures but the boy always pulled away. But then things changed in his 4th year.

The boy from the loving family fell first but the other fell harder. They were in love and even the brother’s anger, when he found out, didn’t pull them apart. Though it had to stay a secret only the marauders knew of the couple.

But then tragedy struck.

The world they knew changed all because of war. The Slytherin was forced to become the heir and join the evil side while the Gryffindor joined the good. This splits then up. They had to fight against each other. Eventually the Gryffindor moved on. He got wife, had two beautiful kids. But the Slytherin never did. Sure, he faked his death and ran way to France to leave the war behind. Yeah, he tried to move on but that just left him with a baby to raise and a dead girlfriend. He still loved the boy from the loving family.

But tragedy didn’t end there.

The boy from the hateful family was free with his daughter in France but the from the loving family wasn’t as lucky. They boy from the loving family was stuck in the middle of a war. A month after the loving boy’s twins were born, a prophecy was realised. A prophecy that put the boy’s son in harm’s way.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”

The Gryffindor moved all his family into a hidden house, a house that became his prison. But he trusted in the wrong friend to keep the secret of where they hid. The Dark Lord found him. That night the war ended but the cost of the lives belonging to the Gryffindor and his wife.

The hateful boy was the only one left of the original couple even if everyone thought he was dead.

Now what you’re saying, what happened to the three children? I’m starting that part of the story now.

The twins of the dead boy, a girl and a boy, were left in the care of their mother’s non magical sister and her family. The daughter of the living boy lived in France with her papa. Both families hide away from the magical world but all children lived different childhoods.  

But this time the childhoods were swoped. The children of the boy with the loving family grew up in a house full of hate. This time the daughter of the boy with a hateful grew up in a house full of love.  

The twins grew up to be slaves to the aunt, uncle and cousins. They did the cooking, the cleaning, the gardening. They did everything to keep the house rolling. But God forbid them to make a mistake or accidently use magic. They would be punished. The aunt and uncle were determined to squish the nonsense out of them. The twins were hardly fed. The twins got nothing new. The twins slept in a cupboard under the stairs. The twins were hidden away from the public to hide the hideous truth of their heritage. But the twins never got told their heritage. They were told lies about everything. They were told their parents died in a car crash. They were told magic doesn’t exist. They were told they were freaks. The cousin got everything. The cousin was spoilt. The cousin could do nothing wrong. But the twins could do nothing right. The cousin was allowed to do whatever he wanted to the twins. So, he choice violence.  He and his friends bullied the twins. He and his friends played sick games that got the twins hurt. As well as all this, the twins were never allowed to celebrate their birthday. They just got to wish themselves happy birthday at midnight the morning of their birthday.  But hey, at least throughout all this, they had each other and that was never going to change.

The daughter in France grew up on the move. Never staying in one place long enough to make the friends she drastically wanted. Never staying in one place long enough to learn to trust. Never staying in one place long enough to socialise. The papa was supposed to be dead after all so the family of two couldn’t be spotted. No one could know of this small family. The family moved to another place in France every year or so. They had to keep moving. Despite always moving, the boy always showed his daughter how much he loved and cared for her. Despite always moving, the boy always tried to get the daughter to have fun. Despite always moving, the boy always tried to make his daughter happy. He was not going to let his daughter be stuck in a prison like he was growing up. He wanted his daughter to be free. Or as much as she could be with their circumstances. Though it was never safe for the girl to go school seeing as there was no primary school for magical children and because the girl was always moving. So, the Papa home schooled the girl in everything she needed to know. Maths, English literature, English language, French, pureblood history, quill writing, beginner levels to all core magical subjects and whatever the girl wanted to learn. The girl was a hard worker. She worked hard on every single lesson, even the boring ones, but the English language was always hard. French is and will always be her first language. She will always have a French accent. This makes speaking English very hard. She hardly uses English which makes her forget her English all the time. The papa loved his daughter and the daughter loved her papa but this didn’t stop the loneliness sneaking its way into her heart.

Finally in the summer of 1991, the summer the three children turned 11, secrets were revealed to the twins and decisions were made to the French daughter. That summer, the children all received letters from magical schools inviting them to join that school in September. The twins received multiple letters from one school for an entire month before a giant of a man delivered it in person on their 11 birthday with information that had been kept from them their whole life. The French daughter received only two letters but both were from different schools. One from the French school because she lived in France and one from the English school because of her birth right. The papa made a decision that day, a decision that changed the life of all three children.

The papa and daughter were going back to England.

But unknown to everyone something else happened that day. In an office, in a high tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft craft and Wizardry, a prophecy was made. A prophecy involving two of the children. A prophecy fating one of them to death.

“When stairs align, repetition will shine. For two children of different homes will be lovers once more. But all is lost in love and war. Here’s where repetition will strain. For they will love during War but war only loves repetition. When stairs align, repetition will shine. A lover will be lost and a lover will be left grieving once more. Till death do they part”