Harry Potter

A Prologue

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PROLOGUE
From Boy to Girl
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Lily Potter let a smile take over her face as she watched her boys. James was sprawled out on the living room floor and Harry was jumping on him. Each time James would give another exaggerated grunt accompanied by a groan, and it only fueled Harry's amusement and giggles. Approaching one and a half, Harry had an endless supply of energy, and he had two men in his life with near that to play with and be spoiled by. Lily's little boy could ask for nothing, because everything was given as soon as his little green eyes opened, and that was the way she liked it. She felt the heavy shadow beyond the room, the reason why they were locked up and in hiding, but Lily allowed herself that moment of laughter. After all, it had been a very long time since her family was forced under the fidelius. If their pursuer had not come thus far, it stood to reason that he never would.

James looked up at his wife with adoring eyes as Harry jumped again. His own smile matched hers: wary, but full. He himself felt the weight of the "what-if"s, but he was much better at hiding his fear and trepidation. James rolled over onto his back while Harry was in the air when he jumped again and proceeded to snatch the boy up. Everyone smiled and Harry released peals of laughter as James tickled his little tummy.

Inside, it was warm and well-lit, but outside, lightning stung the landscape and a choir of thunderclaps sang of dark premonitions. Outside, rain acted as a cloak to hide the approaching peril. For though the Potters were well-assured in their safety, their impenetrable wards had already been penetrated.

Lily noticeably started when a heavy force pounded against their door. James immediately grew serious, jumping to his feet and drawing his wand. They were not expecting company. Lily's heart pounded in her ears with her fear, but she ignored it, instead seeking counsel in her husband.

"Take Harry upstairs," he told her. They both knew that it was not much safer upstairs than downstairs, but there were no other options. The charm that guarded them from outside forces essentially locked them in, allowing no form of exit save the very front door their pursuer was knocking on.

Lily dearly wished to fight alongside her husband, but she knew that she could not leave Harry vulnerable, still but a babe. She scooped her child into her arms, making him giggle at the speed, thinking it was still playtime, and quickly made her way to Harry's room. She hugged him close, red hair falling in waves around his tiny frame, and desperately ignored the telltale sounds of a fierce battle. James was a strong man, a powerful wizard, but even Albus Dumbledore had not attempted to directly challenge Britain's most recent Dark Lord.

Harry's chubby fists patted his mother's cheeks, trying to comfort her when he sensed her sadness. Lily smiled even as a tear tracked down her face at James' pained yell. There were so many last things to think, final thoughts of forgiveness to those she had never been able to before, but Lily focused all of her being on her child. Little Harry, so sweet and only fifteen months, and yet a Dark Lord sought his life. As loud steps thudded at a relaxed pace up the stairs, Lily determined that she would not stand for it. It could very well be her last act, but she would make sure Harry was safe.

"Lily Jane Potter," drawled a voice considerably smoother than she had expected. Alas, one always imagines the enemy as the worst things imaginable. Lily had always pictured the infamous Lord Voldemort to be ugly, to have a higher-pitched, crazed voice. And yet the man that appeared through Harry's nursery door was extremely handsome, the kind that she might have had a crush on as a girl.

Lily turned and bent over to put Harry in his crib, whispering in his ear, "Mummy and Daddy love you so, so much." She straightened, tears steadily streaming down her face, and turned back so that the man was in her sights. Her heart ached, but she couldn't look at Harry again lest her resolve fade.

"You are a very powerful witch," the smooth voice flattered. Lily grimaced. This man had likely just killed her husband, and he had the guts to talk to her like that? "I would love for you to join me. Just step aside, and I will let you live even with your impure blood."

His smile was charming, inviting. It fit perfectly on his smooth-featured face, framed by gentle waves of dark hair. His eyes spoke of promises and power. He probably honestly thought she would take his offer.

"You think a pretty face will make me step aside so you can kill my child?" Lily asked with a wavering voice. "That promises of power will make me forget that you only just killed my husband?" Voldemort gave her such a pitying look that she had to laugh. "I should be the one pitying you," she smiled sadly. "You can never experience love."

The man—but really, he was a monster—appeared regretful as her drew his wand out. "I had hoped a witch of your prowess would be different," he sighed, bringing his arm up to aim at Lily.

"But I am different," Lily told him, green eyes glinting with I shed tears. "I am so different from you that you will never understand why I decided to stand for my family."

Previously soothing eyes turned to ice-cold shards of obsidian. "Have it your way then." With two words a simple swish of his wand, Lily's soul had escaped the boundaries of her body. Another green flash later, and another body laid beside hers on the ground.

Little Harry watched his mother with wide eyes as she talked with a strange man. He cried and whined when she fell to the floor, unmoving. He knew, in the way children pick things up from the conveyance of emotion across the room, that his mother would not move again. The mean man that had made his mother cry glared at him, and Harry stared back. He pointed his wand at Harry and spat out the words: "Avada Kedavra." Green light shot from the wand at Harry, and all he knew was that he wanted his mother. The light hit his forehead, and it hurthurthurt, but instead of being absorbed into the toddler it rebounded back into the mean man, and it seemed to hurt him even more. An enraged scream spilled out of his mouth, only to be cut off as he didn't have a mouth any more. Within seconds, the malevolent spirit had left the room, leaving only Harry and the smell of burnt flesh.

Harry cried, and cried, and cried, but no one came. The child had gone through a monumental change, unapparent in her current body, but still there to make a difference. Because Harry, once a little boy of fifteen months, was now a girl at the same.