FicWad

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognize something, it is probably something I subconsciously remembered and didn't recognize to give credit. This story is fondly based on “Enter the Silver Flame - Year 1: On Happy Ripples and Unexpected Meetings” by SamStone.

Prologue: Introductions

It was a cold November night, the stillness and silence invited feelings of gentleness and peacefulness. The moon shining gently, providing soft pale light; the stars twinkling merrily overhead. A tall man with long silver hair and beard, and thin gold half-moon spectacles suddenly appeared.

A dark purple robe covered in swirling, colorful stars and galaxies fluttering behind the man, he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his sudden appearance. In his arms were two small blanket wrapped bundles.

He set off at a brisk pace down the street, shifting one of the bundles to his other arm so he could pull out a small silver object from a pocket of his robe. Raising the object towards the nearest street lamp, the man flicked the top of the cigarette lighter like object, and clicked it. Immediately, the light from the lamp flew in a ball towards the lighter and was absorbed inside. Pointing towards the next source of light, the man kept clicking the put-outer until all of the street lamps and porch lights were off.

The silver haired man glanced around again as he walked up to the door of Number 4 Privet Drive. Arriving at the door, he placed both bundles on the doormat and tucked a note into the one closest to the door.. Without so much as a backward glance he walked swiftly to the end of Privet Drive when he got to the end, he pulled out the put-outer again, and clicked it. The captured balls of light zoomed back to their original positions, lighting up the street once more. Satisfied, the purple robbed man turned on the spot, and vanished with a small crack.

Back at the door of Number 4, one of the bundles moved as the baby inside shifted in his sleep, drawing closer to his sister. His hand reflexively closed around the note. He had raven black hair, while his sister had lily red hair. If you could have seen through their eyelids you would see Harry’s deep emerald green eyes and Violets, sparkling violet ones. Their names were Harry and Violet Potter.

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Petunia Dursley was a scrawny woman with a horse like neck and a haughty expression. She had on a very proper ladies business button-up shirt covered in flowers and a teachers pencil skirt, all of which was covered in a flower print apron. Seemingly all day she was constantly gossiping about and with her neighbors, always the thought in the back of her mind, wondering if they had spread any nasty rumors about her.

This completely normal morning she opened the door to get the paper as usual when she noticed the two babies at her feet. She almost let out a scream and composed herself so that she would not alert the neighbors who would come investigating. Quickly rushing past the two... things... on her porch, she grabbed the paper. On her way back inside she scooped down, none too gently picked them up, and then hurried into the house and slammed the door shut. "Is something the matter Petunia dear?” Vernon called, not looking up from his breakfast.

Vernon Dursley was a whale of a man. He had a blond handlebar mustache, short cropped blond hair, and small beady brown eyes. An enormous button up shirt covered his upper half, while a pair of khaki trainers strained to cover his very generously sized bottom that spilled over the chair he was sitting in.

“Vernon come here please. I found something on our porch that I need to discuss with you,” Petunia called, voice sounding a little strained.

Vernon sighed heavily, heaved himself out of his chair and waddled into the living room. The living room was perfectly ordinary, with a couch, wing-back chair, a television and a fireplace. Around the room were pictures of Vernon, Petunia, and a very large baby named Dudley. “What is it Petunia?” he asked, annoyed. He looked at Petunia and then saw the two bundles she was setting down, “WHAT IS THAT?!” he bellowed.

At the sound of his bellowing, Violet awoke and started bawling. Harry shifted in the basket he was in, not fully waking, but subconsciously trying to comfort his sister.
"Vernon, please, let me explain,” Petunia pleaded as she clamped her hand over Violet’s mouth. Harry, fully awake at this point, struggled and fussed in his basket as he saw his sister being smothered.

“Fine, but be quick about it,” Vernon huffed, folding his arms, foot tapping.
Immediately Petunia rapidly spoke, still struggling to keep Violet quiet, “When I went out to get the paper just now, these… things... were laying on the porch. I brought these in because I don’t want the neighbors investigating why we left two babies on the porch. There is a note that was with them and I want you to read it, please, so we can discuss it.” As she said this, one hand left Violet and reached over to Harry’s basket. Picking up the letter that was right next to his head, Petunia extended the letter to Vernon.
“Very well,” Vernon growled as he snatched the note from Petunias hand, “Let’s see the note.”

Vernon held up the letter to his face. As he read, his face grew progressively paler and paler, until it was a white as a ghost. He looked up at Petunia and asked in a weak, disbelieving voice, “Magic is real?” Petunia nodded solemnly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Vernon promptly fainted.

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Four year old Harry was tired. He had been doing chores all day. Chores that no four year old should be doing. He and Violet were resting in their cupboard under the stairs, silently communicating to each other that everything would be all right.
Suddenly the front door burst open and Vernon tramped through the door, a beer bottle in his hand. "FREAKS! COME HERE NOW!"

Violet trembled as she and Harry opened the cupboard door and went to the living room. Harry shivered at the look Vernon was giving them. It was the look of rage and pure hatred.
Vernon grabbed Harry's arm with bruising strength and yanked him into the middle of the living room. He leaned down close to Harry's face, his face shining with anger. The alcoholic stench seemed to attack Harry’s nose and eyes and for a moment, Vernon seemed to be the visible incarnation of hell. "YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FREAK! YOU AND YOUR SISTER ARE THE REASON I GOT DEMOTED AT WORK TODAY! EVERYTHING HAS BEEN GOING WRONG SINCE YOU LITTLE FREAKS CAME INTO MY HOME!"

Here Vernon smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It was the kind of smile a serial killer gives his next victim, or the smile of a demon as he steals your soul. Madness dancing in his eyes, Vernon spoke in a calm, almost kind voice, which got louder until the end he was shouting in Harry’s face. "Since it is your birthday today, it's time to give you your birthday gift. Payback for everything you have given us!" With that exclamation, he grabbed Harry’s other arm and flung him into the wall. Harry hit hard and crumpled to the floor, spots dancing before his eyes. Vernon then picked Violet up by the hair and threw her next to Harry's crumpled form.

"Are you ready freaks!?" Vernon yelled as he unbuckled his belt. It was a nice belt with a large heavy looking buckle. "Happy Birthday to you!" Vernon started singing drunkenly as he swung the belt down on the defenseless four year old twins.

Harry cried out as white hot pain raced over his back. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked up at his uncle. He saw the anger and enjoyment on his uncles face and knew or a certainty that they were going to die that night. As Vernon swung the belt again, Harry threw himself over Violet, crying out as the belt opened another gash across his back.
Lost in his rage, Vernon swung again and again, not caring about where he hit. Harry's pain grew as the belt struck him all over his body. Occasionally the belt struck Violet on the arm or leg and she would shiver violently, but she wouldn't cry out and give Vernon the satisfaction. Then Vernon got a lucky shot and hit her in the side of the face. Violet desperately tried to scream as it felt like her throat had collapsed upon itself and she couldn’t get any air in or out.

Harry felt consumed with rage, his sister had been struck a devastating blow and he could do nothing about it. In that moment of rage and desperation, he reached out to his sister on a basic level, trying to tell her without words that he would take care of everything, that everything was going to be alright. At that moment, he felt something else brush against his consciousness. An indescribable moment where it felt almost as if he was Violet. Then suddenly he felt something inside him crack, and with a roaring rushing sound that was not sound, he felt energy suffuse his body.

It started off in his chest, a torrential pressure that felt like a burning river of fire was shoved into his chest and then proceeded to expand, spreading outward down his arms and legs until his body was consumed by the sensation. Then suddenly, the energy exploded out of his body and there was a blinding flash of red light.

When the light receded, the damage was revealed. Vernon was embedded in the wall a few feet off the ground, the couch and chair were overturned, and Harry and Violet were nowhere to be seen. Harry stirred briefly to notice that they were in their cupboard before he passed out.

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A few hours later, just before dawn, the door to their cupboard was wrenched open and a tall, silver-haired man stooped in. He was wearing a most elaborate robe, all sorts of colors arrayed in dizzying patterns. He had been notified through his monitors that the twins' lives were in danger.

The man raised a stick and mumbled a few words, gesturing with the stick. A frown appeared on his face and he waved the stick a few more times. "Curious," he muttered to himself, "It seems like the bindings I placed on them have broken, but this shouldn't be possible. As well they have extensive evidence of healing magic; it is almost completely permitting their whole bodies." The frown deepened and the man waved his stick one more time. "Might as well put the bindings on them again, this time tighter."
With that, the man left the cupboard and went to Petunia and Vernon's room. He waved his stick a couple more times and the memories of that night were taken away. Then he left the house, wondering if he should keep a tighter watch on his pawns. Maybe Arabella Figg would be a good watcher.