Adrian Craddock and The Philosopher's Stone

A Strange Dream

Corner of Cromwell and Primrose Street, Swansea, Wales

25 September 1987

It was here where a young boy lay, wrapped in an old blanket in the dead of night, his brown hair messy and disheveled, eyes closed, body shaking due to the cold. No one knew who he was or why he wasn't home, in the warm embrace of family. All who walked here ignored the sleeping boy. So in his sleep his thoughts drifted to an event, one anyone would have thought strange.

oOo

"Elena! Protect Adrian! Don't move from the room!"

The man who yelled made his way through a set of doors, leaving his wife to comfort their child.

"Adrian, look at mummy. It's okay, It's okay. Daddy will be here soon."

Two voices came from outside the room. The voice of the father and an unknown man.

"Don't come closer, Alfred! My son has nothing to do with you!"

"On the contrary, dear brother, my nephew IS the reason I'm here. It's a shame you aren't in the picture. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

From the slightly open door a flash of green could be seen and the sound of someone dropping to the floor could be heard. The toddler was now wailing, his mother was clutching tightly onto him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

The doors to the room was then kicked open. A man who looked similar to the father entered. Anyone could have thought they were the same person. The difference was the look of murder in the man's eyes.

The boys mother quickly put him in a cot and pulled a stick out of her pocket, pointing it at the man before yelling: "Diffindo!" A pink beam erupted from the sticks tip which the man dodged before pulling out his own stick.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

From the tip of the stick a sickly green beam emerged and a rushing sound was heard, the beam hit the mother square in the chest and she fell to the floor, her grey eyes now lifeless.

The assailant looked at the toddler in the cot, smirking evilly.

"Your parents were weak: dealing with filthy mudbloods and forgetting we should be ruling over them with an iron fist. Had I been in the mood, I would have taken you in but I'd rather that inheritance be mine. Goodbye, Adrian and say hello to Elijah for me."

The man then pointed the stick at the wailing toddler and was about to say something when the boy started crying louder. It sent out a pulse which caused part of the ceiling to collapse, burying the murderer alive. His twitching hand was the only visible part left.

oOo

The boy in the old blanket woke up. Sweating and panting from his recent nightmare, he slowly sat up, wondering why that was the only thing he could dream about about. Rolling the blanket up, he started following the road, hoping that wherever he went, it would be worth it in the end.

(A/N: First ever story and first ever fanfic. What do you think and are you excited for the future?)