Squib

Prologue

A/N: Anyways this idea just popped into my mind and seemed original enough so I decided to write it. Reviews are appreciated. I have just revised the first chapter improving some grammar and make it a bit more realistic, and I will probably revise the next few as well. For the new readers, the plot develops really nicely in the later chapters so please read on.

Edit: Revised, minor errors removed.

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PROLOGUE:

Voldemort smiled evilly as he looked down at the two Potter kids, both born on that cursed day that was to mark the birth of his downfall. The thought of such a thing was humorous at most but still, he couldn't just ignore the underlying fear of possibility.

No! He had to finish this right now. After all, he had lured the Potters away from the house and killed Sirius Black, the person who was to look after the babies, now he could finish his business and be away, making plans rather than killing babies as if he had nothing better to do.

Looking down at the first baby, he saw black hair and emerald green eyes staring defiantly at him. He so loved it when someone defied him only to die a moment later. The boy looked around as if searching for an escape route. No more than a year old, Voldemort could tell the boy would be unusually intelligent.

Out of respect, Voldemort turned and decided to kill the other boy first. Reddish brown hair and amber eyes full to the brim with tears. Now that was more like what babies should be. Avada Kedavra

The curse sped from Voldemort's wand and hit John Potter on the forehead before rebounding back with unreal speed and hitting Voldemort right in the chest. The last thing that was heard was a chilling unreal scream right when James and Lily Potter portkeyed to their house. And then...utter silence.

X-x-x-x-x

Lily Potter was crying with her head on the shoulder of her husband, while young Harry Potter was sitting in the next seat staring at his mother curiously. They were at St. Mungos and John Potter was being checked up while the rest of the wizarding world celebrated the death of Voldemort and toasted to their savior...John Potter.

Dumbledore had told both Lily and James of the prophecy and the fact that Voldemort was not dead and they both now knew the importance of their son, the boy-who-lived...John Potter.

Suddenly a healer came out of the ward with a grim looking face and led the Potter's to a private room. He told them to be seated while he began pacing behind his desk.

"Is he alright, healer?" James started.

"Yes he is in no danger, but..." The healer paused as if contemplating what to say and then turned and looked directly and James.

"He has no magical reserves left, and nothing we can do can charge his magical core."

"WHAT! Are you telling me that he is no more than a muggle?!" James asked outraged that someone could say that after what John had done.

"No, he is more than a muggle, he still has a magical core, though he has no reserves of magic, which effectively makes him...a squib."

James was still outraged so Lily addressed the healer. "Can't you do anything, anything at all to give him magical reserves?" Lily thought of what the people would say to the boy-who-lived being a squib.

"Well..." the healer once again contemplated what to say "..there is the process of magical transfer, but to find someone his age..." he looked at Harry for a moment sitting in Lily's lap. "...no i dare not say it."

"WHAT?" James was practically on his feet now. "What you don't realize, is that this is no ordinary child, he is the boy-who-lived, defeater of You-Know-Who, we can't live in the shame if he is a squib."

"Well..if you insist..." The healer straightened himself and explained, "The magical transfer requires another child of his age and we will transfer the other child's magical reserves, leaving the one from whom is transferred, practically a squib. But nobody is actually willing to give up their child's magic and you probably wouldn't be happy if the squib thing is transferred from one to the other..." he said finally pointing at Harry.

"Do it." Both Lily and James said simultaneously. They turned to look at each other bewildered by the others' answer and then both nodded in agreement.

"There is also the chance that the donor child will die" The healer asked, still uncertain.

Lily's determination waned as both parents went into deep thought. "Is You-Know-Who really going to return?" James questioned Dumbledore.

"There is no doubt about that, and it is also certain that he will seek to kill John." Dumbledore said serenely. Lily was still indecisive but James had already made his choice. He handed Harry to the healer. "But.." Lily was about to say before James cut her off. "John would certainly die without magic Lily, let us hope for the best." James tried to mitigate the reality of what was happening. The healer looked uncertain for a while, shooting questioning glances at both parents but at James nod and reluctantly Lily's as well, a mask of determination overcame him as he carried Harry and went into the ward that held John.

'We're sorry Harry' Both Lily and James thought as they hugged each other.

X-x-x-x-x

Their sorrows were soon forgotten as the healer came out holding John and another holding Harry. Both parents rushed towards John, each thinking that the other would go towards Harry. Both decided on holding John first and then Harry. This one mistake would possibly be the biggest of their lives.

Meanwhile a reporter had reported on Harry Potter, brother of the boy-who-lived, being a squib. But even that scandal would soon vanish.

X-x-x-x-x

A party was being held at Potter manor the next night. Of course it was past their bedtimes and Harry and John were expected to sleep. But could there be a party about the boy-who-lived without the boy-who-lived? John was the center of attention while Harry was left alone in his room.

Harry sat in the center of his cot and looked at his hands. He felt, though he couldn't understand, that a part of him had died. It was almost as if he couldn't find any strength in him, not even to move his body. He lay down but kept looking at his hands as sleep overcame him, and a single tear fell from his eye in helplessness.

The next morning, he would forget all about the helplessness that had overcome him but it wouldn't do to say that he would forget it forever. For he would remember it often as he grew up, and it would give him the determination to overcome it, and come out on top.

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