Addicted [H.P] [D.M.]

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prologue

[Name] Pendragon laid awake in her crib. She was an odd child. She didn't cry much and she was never one to whine or fuss, and on this night, July thirty-first of 1982; She was a mere two years of age, when her life was changed forever.

Her Mother and Father were sound asleep, along with her brother.

A loud creak could be heard from the floor near her crib.

An elderly man magically appeared, he had a grayish-black beard and long, white hair like freshly packed snow.

There weren't half-moon glasses or any of that nonsense.

No, the young Pendragen was visited by a man, the muggle world didn't believe to exist and the wizarding one knew him as dead.

Now, mustn't tell who he was but you can only
speculate.

He had red robes that hit the floor and a staff of dark oak and gold. He looked down at the child who was reaching for her pas-a-fire.

He smiled at the girl for her cuteness. He picked it up and lightly, not wanting to startle her, set it back in her mouth. After the ordeal he apologized.

He pleaded for forgiveness for what he had to do, if he didn't continue, the wizarding world would be destroyed before she'd reach the age of eight-teen. He pleaded for what he was doing to her
lively-hood. Growing up she will be hunted down like wild an animal, along with her friends.

He raised a hand above the girl, and incanted a few words in Hebrew.

A mist of gold and silver started dripping out of his hand like a faucet.

He looked at it sharply to ensure it there.

"You have a destiny, just as your ancestor Arthur had. You aren't to rule a great kingdom, for now. You are to choose between paths at a crossroad. You are to choose between light and dark, my dear young one. No matter the path, you are to save the world from racist witch's and wizards loathing low blood status. You are to save it from the second great war, the wizarding world has ever seen."

He watched the child's eyes shift a more defined color as the magic seeped into her pores.

"[dad name]! Do you hear that?" A woman whispered down the hall, with her husband, who held a bat.

"Until next time, young Pendragon. Take care of these muggles and magic blood. Take care of yourself." The parents were now freaking out at the door as they seen the the elderly man take a few steps away from the crib, looking the muggles straight in the eye and gone. He vanished in to thin air.

Well rumor has it, what he did that night was give the youngest Pendragon heiress magic.

Some think it was Dumbledor, some suspect McGonagall or Merlin himself.