Chapter 1 : Prologue
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Once upon a time, in a land not so far from here, there was a baby being taken from the arms of his loving parents, being torn away from the childhood he was destined for. The baby was very young, why, no more than a few months old. 'Twas a baby boy who was being taken, a baby boy named James. The baby's parents loved him more than life itself, and they looked forward to every second of every day that followed as long as it was with their son. They loved their son so very, very much. 'Tis tragic, the words that I must convey to you next, dear reader, for they are tragic words indeed. I must warn you before hand, reader, for they are quite horrific words, and you would do well to take caution with your reaction. The words, I say, are as follows: The son in which the parents loved so very much was taken from them, without consent, without warning, and certainly without any hope of seeing him again.
On the morn in which these two parents learned of their son's terrible fate, the baby's father had woken with a gasp, awakening from a dream in which he was running and running but could not figure out what he was running toward. When he finally remembered what he was chasing, the thing in which he was chasing had already circled around him, surrounding him again and again until it was so tight that it curled around his neck, like a parasitical snake, coiling around him until he could breath no more, and that would be at about the accurate time in which he woke from the dream. As the father wandered through the kitchen, scratching his uncombed, somewhat shaggy hair thinking about what on earth he was to make for breakfast, he noticed something sitting on the kitchen counter.
With the morning sunlight streaming into the room, the pure white envelope seemed so innocent, so insignificant, so harmless. Just an envelope, probably a late night owl or something of the sort. The father (Harry was his name) silently, curiously walked over to the faintly glinting envelope. He reached into the stream of sunlight, illuminating his smooth, young hand, and picked up the envelope. Before Harry could open it, however, he heard a faint voice from the other room.
"Harry?" called the voice of a female, and, indeed, 'twas the baby's mother who was calling. The mother's name was Ginevra, but most people just called her Ginny. Harry and Ginny have quite an epic love story, you know, and although I cannot tell it to you now, it is a wonderful story indeed, and I highly recommend that you read about it when you have free time.
"Yeah, love?" replied Harry, hand still on the envelope, just waiting to open it. His curiosity was killing him.
"Tell me what you hear right now."
Harry waited in silence for a few moments.
"I don't hear anything."
Harry could hear the smile in Ginny's voice as she said, "Could you repeat that?"
"I don't hear anything, Ginny."
The smile in her voice grew bigger. "Say that again."
"Ginny, what are you talking about, I don't hear-"
Harry stopped dead as he realized what his wife had been trying to tell him. Neither of the pair had woken from the cries of their son, James, as they normally did since he had began to sleep through the night without being fed. The two parents had assumed that James had finally slept through the night without crying, and that was the reason of the morn's silence. How heartbreaking it is, to see their happy assumptions and know what is truly going on.
"Ginny. I don't hear anything."
"You don't?" she said, the smile in her voice totally huge now.
"No. No I don't."
"This calls for celebration, then does it not?" Ginny's voice seemed closer now, like she was standing up and walking.
"Well, I should say so," said Harry as Ginny appeared in the kitchen doorway. He dropped the envelope back on the counter and crossed the entire length of the kitchen in three long bounds, sweeping Ginny up into his arms and kissing her with unmatched love and adoration.
"What's that?" she asked, when Harry had put her down, and pointed to the white envelope sitting on the counter. The sun was no longer glinting on it, a combination of Harry dropping it in a different spot and the sun shifting in position.
"I don't know. I was about to open it up when you called for me."
"Well, let's open it, silly," she said, laughing.
Harry and Ginny sat down on the stools adjacent to the counter, and reached for the envelope. Together, they opened it, to reveal a folded up, official looking paper. Ginny grabbed it before Harry could, unfolded the paper, and began to read.
Reader, I regrettably must inform you that Ginny's reaction to what the paper said was not a pleasant one, oh not at all. In fact, it was a heart-shattering reaction, and I do not take pleasure in conveying the details of it. Take caution, reader, and guard your heart well.
Ginny Potter, who had the world's largest smile on her face, faltered for a moment. Just a moment, and that was followed by an unbelieving frown. From the frown came a flash of a smile with no trace of humor, a denying smile, a smile that said, 'This is stupid, don't believe it,' and that was followed by the same frown as before. It was about this time that Harry called Ginny's name in concern, but she did not hear him, only saw his mouth move. A microscopic gasp joined the frown, and followed by that were her eyebrows creasing together in an effort to understand. She shook her head back and forth once, twice, then stopped, then the frown in which she had been wearing opened up, her jaw dropping in a wide "O". Her eyebrows creased even further. By this time, Ginny had already finished the letter about a million times, but she continued to reread it, as if that would help her understand it's contents. Her creased eyebrows turned upward, and a louder gasp than before came from her lips. Her eyes became wide, crazed, and they became bloodshot, for she hadn't blinked in about three or four solid minutes, and she showed no sign of blinking anytime soon. Her eyes were coated in a film of tears, and soon after that, they spilled over. It was about this time that Ginny began to shake violently, the paper, becoming a blur to the point where she could not read it anymore. It was also about this time in which she realized that Harry was the one shaking her, yelling at her, desperate to figure out the source of his wife's distress. Ginny let out a cry of disbelief, closing her eyes and burying her face into Harry's shoulder. The letter had long been dropped onto the counter.
How glad I am that I am finished telling of Ginny's reaction. I do not wish to tell it again, for it brings tears to my eyes just thinking of it.
Harry, who had been standing by her side the entire time, was terrified to look at the letter, for the distress it put Ginny into.
"Read... read it... r-r-rea...." Ginny stuttered.
Ginny's forehead still resting on his shoulder, Harry reached around her and picked up the letter from the counter. He opened it warily. The letter contained as follows:
It amuses us how you think we would go down that easily. The Dark Lord still lives, in you, in me, and in all who followed him loyally. I am one of those. The Death Eaters shall never die as long as the Dark Lord's legacy lives on. You have murdered our leader, Potter, our father, our god, and you expect that will shall simply back down to avoid Azkaban. You never were very smart when it came to people, Potter, that much has been established. We still worship the Dark Lord, as always, and we shall never back down, nor shall we ever end the war between us and you. You have taken away our sole respite in a dark world. And now, Potter, we have taken your son. Yes. We have taken him. Your son, James, will make a fine offering to the Dark Lord's spirit as we worship him on the Desthian Morosae, and I look forward to the day when you can weep over your son's death. Heed my words, Potter, you will never see your son alive again, no matter how hard you try, no matter where you go. The Dark Lord will have his revenge upon you, Potter, through your baby son. He will be tortured. He will be murdered. And you must forever live with the knowledge that you were the reason he had to endure such measures. You have killed your son, Potter. You have killed him.
There was no signature.
Please review everyone! I'm still not totally sure where I'm going to take this story, but if you review, there's a good chance you'll be shaping the future chapters in doing so! :) Thanks for reading!
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