Edit Note:

I use Canadian spellings, different from both British and American. These early chapters will continue to be edited and updated as I continue to write the story. I will include a note when posting new chapters if earlier material has been edited or changed.

A/N:

Hello folks. I won't keep you long, just some introductory things. This is my second attempt at writing a fanfic, the first failed horribly because of university coursework. This story is going to involve some non-heterosexual relationships. It is rated T currently, this may change, but there will almost certainly be no smut. There will however be mature themes and language - eventually. Feel free to PM me if you have questions or comments. Assuming they never grow too large in volume I will get back to you eventually.

Regards,

K.

Chapter One – Storm Born

The wind howled like it never had before, Albus Dumbledore was over a century old but he had never witnessed a storm the likes of this. He struggled against the rain and winds as he made his way down a cobblestone road. The road winded up along the side of a mountain, and with dense forest on either side. It was incredibly dark but the old wizard had his wand lit as he fought his way forward; he was a man on a mission.

Lightning began to crack above illuminating the path ahead of him, allowing him to finally see his target. Just another few moments battling the storm and eh would be there. Dumbledore hastened his pace, travelling now at a near run; there were many things Wizards could survive that non-magical folk could not, but a lightning strike in a storm like this was not on that list.

Finally the large copper gates and brownstone walls that guarded a large lodge-style estate were visible ahead of him - the top of the gates cresting and twisting together to form a large decorative hippogriff that stood guard over the gates. The copper hippogriff was the immortal crest of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Potter.

Dumbledore stared at the gates for a moment before shaking at them slightly - they were not opening for him as they normally were; it was most peculiar. James had long welcomed him at his family's ancestral home, and he had never had trouble with the gates before.

Just as he was about to send a patronus with a message that he hard arrived a carriage barreled up the trail behind him, pulled by two copper coloured hippogriffs similar to the one immortalized as the Potter crest on the estate's gates. The carriage was not obviously headed by anyone, but they rarely were in the magic world. The carriage paid him no heed, its occupants were likely not paying attention expecting a clear path, and the hippogriffs - well who knew with those beasts.

The gates opened seamlessly for the carriage, allowing Dumbledore enough time to scoot in behind it. The wards didn't reject him as he carried on down the trail in his half-run.

By the time Dumbledore had reached the receiving hall of the estate the guests carried by the carriage had already made their way through the ancient home. Dumbledore remembered seeing light blazing from one of the larger rooms in the upper floors and so he made his way toward the room. The estate creaked in the wind as he ran up the stairs much to briskly for a man of his age; magic surely did wonders for the centenarian's endurance.

As he got closer to the room he could finally hear proof of why he had been called to the estate; Lily Potter was in labour.

-o-O-o-

Dumbledore walked into a room that was already quite full of the Potter's friends and loved ones. The room's occupants were deathly quiet, that being said they barely noticed the sounds of the storm. Lily was the focus of the entire room; she was heavily pregnant and whimpering incoherently. Her forehead shined with a thick coat of sweat and her hair was plastered over her face and neck. Her breathing was deep and ragged, her skin even more pale than usual. But she was too exhausted to scream any more so whimpers were all that escaped her cracked lips. Lily Potter was giving birth, and it appeared that it might likely be her final act.

Rain beat against the windowpanes curving the glass slightly – just enough to make the inhabitants of the large wooden manor home wary, despite the charms that prevented their fears from being actualized. Thunder crashed above them, quickly following the lightning strikes that struck down century old trees that dotted the land.

A tall man hovered behind Alice, watching James, his own best friend, plead and beg for the life of his wife and the babe she was to bring into this world. He cursed the Gods that he was unable to do anything and that the couple could not share the blessing of an easy birth he and his wife had experienced just yesterday.

A man with red hair, barely seventeen, stood in front of the large picture window that threatened to crash in around him. He was scanning the grounds with an eagle-like focus for any possible signs of danger. A single fang earring protruded through his left earlobe, barely visible through his untamed orange hair. Several scars already decorated his young face. He turned and met Dumbledore's eyes as he old man entered the room, but the young man did not nod or smile in greeting to the man; no, both Charlie and his brother Bill had never been fans of Albus Dumbledore.

A gaunt-looking man with unruly long black hair stood in the far corner behind James. His eyes shone with worry and were haunted by some unspoken sadness. It was unfair that a babe would have to be brought into this world without a mother, and the mere shadow of a father it could have had if its mother had lived. Sirius remembered the loss of his own lover, and child, holding back tears. This was not the time to remember the tragedy he had gone through himself, though the similarities of their two situations were already startling.

Remus Lupin stood at his best friend's side watching the room's going-ons with a vacant expression.

The entire manor shook with the latest gust of wind. The glass enclosing the various candles and lanterns that lit the room vibrated. Strange tinkling and rattling sounds filled the room that could have been misinterpreted as signs of the manor itself being nervous. They were quickly drowned out by a loud but clearly distant bang, likely something from the grounds had taken wing upon the storm's gusts and struck the manor. It was neither the first or last of its kind that night.

"Thank goodness Albus you are here. She still has a chance, but we have to intervene immediately." The young diligent woman who dared to speak knealt between the red head's spread legs. Her arms were coated in blood, reaching up as far as her elbows in some parts. The old wizard she had spoken to simply nodded, a permanent grimace decorating his face as he stood over the group - most of which were looking at him to help.

At the head of the red head's bed were her husband and closest friend. James held her hands as if he was ready and willing to physically pull her back from death at a moment's notice. He uselessly muttered kind and pleading words into her ear "Lils… Lils you cannot leave me. Lils I need you…" He barely spoke, but still everyone in the room could hear his pleading. Beside him, his wife's best friend stood unable to look at her struggling friend. Her body wracking with silent sobs

"The purple one Alice – give her the purple one" the determined mediwitch barked, she left no question in her tone and the emergency of the situation was clear.

Alice wasted no time in guiding a vial with a thin purple liquid between her best friend's lips.

They continued this way for some time, the residents of the room were quiet, acting as a stoic guard, as Dumbledore and the young mediwitch cast spells on Lily and directed people to feed her various potions.

"Fight the darkness Lily, you have the power within you to overcome this." Dumbledore said sternly, his voice was crystal clear and unwavering, but his face was that of a wizard in agony, watching one of his most loyal followers and closest friend battle for her life and that of her unborn child.

Not long after Albus's words Lily's breathing became increasingly laboured – coming in long and deep shuddering gasps. Her eyes regained a life to them as if she were aware of her surroundings once more. The storm calmed for just a moment, teasing that it would be over just as quickly as it had started. Everyone in the room stood in silence before a loud wailing cry could be heard breaking their silence.

Lily's stricken face twisted into the happiest of smiles at the sound, the baby's wails making it through to her barely conscious mind. Her hollow looking eyes focused just enough to stare at the light she had brought into the world, her son.

"Jamieson" her cracked lips croaked out the name before they broke into an exuberant smile. The babe was cleaned and handed to Albus immediately. It would have to wait to be examined by the medi-witch; the baby's mother was closer to losing her life. Despite the miracles magic could produce childbirth was rarely ever easy. Albus looked over the babe quickly, probing its aura and cast a few spells over it. He was relieved that the child felt as any other respectable newborn might, he was pure and of the light. Dumbledore hummed a happy tune at the child and focused on wrapping the boy in a soft blue blankt before handing him off to his father.

James coddled the babe in her arms, kneeling close so that Lily could greet the new life she had brought into the world. She cooed at the boy as she started to doze off – slipping away to rest. A reddish brown tuft of hair and deep brown eyes were all that could be seen of the babe as his parents snuggled him between them.

The healer however was not resting; she began worrying. Lily's bleeding hadn't slowed down at all, if anything it had increased. There was no sign of afterbirth… In fact, all the typical signs indicated a second child was on the way. Lily remained dilated. Contractions continued. She frowned, she was not told to expect a second babe – and her scans did not indicate there would be a second child. Twins she thought – they must be twins. "But how?" She whispered under her breath.

Dumbledore was caught off guard by the healer's words, and turned just in time to be assaulted with a wave of magic so exotic and foreign to him it nearly took his breath away. No one else in the room was so attuned to magic as he was, likely because of his raw magical strength. Dumbledore's face developed hard creases as he scrutinized the mediwitch who was indeed preparing for a second birth; he did not know what to make of the situation, but he did not like it.

Suddenly the storm had returned with a vengeance. The wind whipped at the manor in a frenzy, tearing at the walls as if it was trying to force its way inside. Lighting flashed over and over again, closer to the manor each time. It illuminated the room in a ghostly glow. The skies opened up and from them poured rain that had not been seen in centuries.

And that was when Lily Potter was dragged from her nearly unconscious state, sitting up slightly, her eyes shot open, and from her mouth came an otherworldly scream. Her mouth could form no words. Her newborn son began to wail in her arms under his father's careful guard. But her scream continued, her eyes bulging nearly out of her head, ghostly shadows cast over her face from the lightning

The mediwitch leaned in again, and prepared herself to assist the second babe's departure from its mother. She was prepared for a battle; births like these had never been easy and Lily wasn't the ideal candidate for birth mother. As she braced herself for a battle against nature the babe surprised her.

He passed from his mother as if propelled, though still gently enough for the mediwitch to catch him. With his exit came a truly guttural scream from his mother. Blood gushed from the birth canal, bathing the child in his mother's life. Her screams only intensified, as if the babe had torn part of her with him as he entered the world.

"Another boy" Dumbledore muttered, but his words went unheard over the raging storm.

Lily's mouth began to form a sound, some part of a word, before her consciousness abruptly left her. Her face remained twisted in a truly fearful – disgusted position as her eyes lulled shut and she fell back against the birthing table. The mediwitch got to work quickly casting more powerful spells on Lily that would have been unsafe had the woman still be pregnant. It wasn't long before she had done all she could do, and she turned her attention back to the second infant.

Carefully she washed his mother's blood off of the child. The babe was strangely thin, his skin was almost translucent, the colour of moonlight. He had almost a whole head of black hair, still wet with afterbirth and blood. He already looked elegant, pureblood features gracing his physique; truthfully he looked nothing like his brother. The mediwitch held her breath.

Everyone in the room waited with baited breath to hear the babe cry, signalling to everyone it was alive and well, but the babe did not cry. He stared up at the mediwitch with his large luminescent emerald green eyes, but he did not cry. He did not fuss. He barely moved, if only to seek some form of comfort. It was as if, almost impossibly, the child had decided the storm outside was enough of a fuss to make upon his entry to the world.

The wind continued to howl, and the lightning continued outside, each flash bringing with it thunder that shook the house to its foundation.

The babe shut his eyes, and just like that with one great and final flash of lightening that burned the eyes of all who looked, the storm was over. The howling winds died down, the rains finally recessed, and the air hung eerily still as if lightning could crack through and shatter the peace it had left at any moment – but it would not. Not tonight.

The scarred young man with orange hair paused from his protective vigil over the Potter estate to lay eyes on the youngest son of Lily and James Potter. His deathly pale face was calm, his body looked too thin and too elegant for someone so young. He had very little baby fat but somehow he managed to not appear sickly, just odd. Charlie watched on as the mediwitch fussed over the boy. Casting various diagnostic spells, measuring this and that. James remained by Lily's side, staring transfixed at his own first born son – a spitting image of his own father aside from what would likely be Lily's red hair.

Sirius had joined the mediwitch in doting on the youngest of the two children. He conjured a deep forest green blanket to wrap him in – they were unprepared for a second child and improvisation would have to do.

The mediwitch continued her diagnostics, checking the babe over. He did not appear ill, but she had to be sure. The babe was certainly not normal, and for the world and his mother to react in such a way upon his birth… She did not believe in omens, she was not a superstitious woman at all, but she was sure that this babe was special – he needed the utmost care.

"Albus… I'd like for you to check the boy's magic over. From all my inspections the child does not seem ill – but he's far too… " she struggled looking for a word "… bizarre to not take precautions, and then considering the storm…" her voice trailed off. The Mediwitch laid the boy down on a high table that had originally held supplies for the delivery. The boy simply sighed and fidgeted a little in a light sleep.

"Of course – it would be my pleasure." Albus focused hard on not rolling his eyes. These people were so superstitious. Believing in their false Gods – it was a storm, it meant nothing and the babe was a little slim – so what? But he had to admit, the magic he felt when the child had entered the world was quite unusual… He swept over to the table and looked down on the child. He felt a nagging tug in his stomach – this child… something was indeed off about him. Albus pushed that away and focused on the boy, touching both his index fingers to opposite sides of the child's head.

Albus recoiled instantly as if he had been bitten. He was shaken to the very core. Perhaps the storm did mean something…? No. He dashed the thought in an instant, he could no longer believe in the Gods. Would no longer place any faith in them.

"Good heavens Albus what is it?" The mediwitch stared at the man waiting for her answer.

Albus had to think quickly. The boy was dark. Dark and powerful, more so than he cared to imagine. He dared not imagine what this boy could become should he live to his inheritance. He dared not contemplate what this boy could mean for their world, his world.

"I'm afraid the child is gravely ill Andy". Dumbledore coached his face into a solemn appearance. He bowed his head and folded his hands before he spoke again. The child was sick, sick and twisted with a magic that was untamed and refused to bow. "The boy has disharmonious magic – his magic is attacking him from within." Albus coached his face into a tight grimace and recited what he knew about the disorder from the book he had read centuries ago. "It is much like the auto-immune diseases that the muggles have been struggling with – except only in this case it is the magic is attacking the body, not the body attacking itself."

Many of the adults in the room gasped at such news. Such a disorder was extremely dangerous and extremely rare, so rare that some believed it did not actually exist. The only other recorded disharmonious core in centuries had actually been Sirius's only child. For such a tragedy to happen twice so recently… and to strike two close friends; it was unthinkable.

Sirius' daughter had been born on a quiet summer night two years ago in a room not unlike the one they were currently in. Dumbledore was present, and in tandem with Madam Pomfrey, had revealed that the little girl's core would destroy her within a month.

And the disease had destroyed her, almost taking Sirius and his extended family, and the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix with her. It had been a great burden on all of them to watch her die, trying to save her from herself.

All the adults in the room came to a hushed silence echoing their despair. They would have to endure that horror again.

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, looking down at the child before he began speaking again. "I'm afraid the child does not have long… he is far more powerful than Urs-". James' wails of sorrow cut him off before he could finish, but they all knew the little girl's name all too well. Ursula.

Sirius left the room in a haste, hiding his face from everyone. No one followed him, knowing that he needed to be alone but Charlie Weasley's eyes trailed the man as he left - he was unable to leave his post, as he was obligated to guard over these birth by his family's magic, and oath, to the Potters. Sirius could never bear the thought of his daughter, the sorrow of his daughter's loss had once consumed him; he had somehow emerged from it but his lover had not been so lucky.

No one questioned why he had left.

Remus was the first to speak after that.

"There's nothing that can be done Albus?" The grizzled werewolf looked at his mentor expectantly.

"You know the child cannot be saved Remus." The man paused. "To prolong his suffering would be cruel. The humane thing to do, the light thing to do, would be to allow him Godric's rights".

Several of the adults in the room gasped while the scarred orange haired man looked confused, verging on furious. "That is an antiquated and barbaric ritual Dumbledore! The child would stand no chance at all! And in these forests no less!?" Charlie marched over to the table, standing protectively over the child.

"Even now his magic erodes his life Charlie." Dumbledore's eyes burrowed into the red head's own, his face the perfect mask of grandfatherly concern and aged commander.

"At least this way he still has a chance – and if not, it will be quick." The mediwitch's voice died and she shaped the last words. She had been uncharacteristically silent until this point, having originally been consumed by sorrow like the other adults in the room. It was not easy to hear the news that a child you had just helped bring into the world and entered it with such an early death sentence already hanging over its head.

"It is decided then, we must do the compassionate thing" Albus pronounced. James did not protest, his body wracked with sobs as he clung to his unconscious wife and firstborn.

Dumbledore took the child into his arms. Even now, without using the sight, he could feel the wildness of this child's magic. Yes, this was the best thing to do. He must do it for the greater good. Dumbledore pushed forward, walking at a steady pace through the manor and out into the grounds, and then the forest surrounding the manor. Behind him walked Charlie, Poppy, Alice, and her husband Frank. The Longbottoms continued to stand as witness for their best friends, the Potters, while Charlie and Poppy had followed out of respect for the child.

Dumbledore stopped walking when they could no longer see the lights of the Manor. The air hung eerily still, it was heavy with moisture and edged on the side of unstable. He laid the child down under a large canopy of overgrown cypress trees.

Albus bowed his head, feigning respect and sadness for the activity at hand. "Goodbye, youngest of the Potters. It is with sorrow that we release you back to lady magic and her sisters, night and wild. May they guide you through the night on your journey – and should our paths in life cross once more and we come to conflict, should the fates will it so, then my debt to you shall be paid with my mortal soul."

The old wizard recited the words carefully, he remembered them all clearly from the old tome he had read. He placed no stock in them, the old Gods, fates. He knew it all to be nonsense.

Yet those around him found comfort in that nonsense, so a valuable tool it made.

The child's eyes flashed open as soon as Dumbledore finished the ritualistic words. He didn't make any noises, or move. He just silently watched his would-be funeral procession and executioner.

Dumbledore and the healer turned to leave, their hearts heavy, leaving the child in the copse of cypress trees. Charlie however did not turn around with them. He had made an oath to guard this child, and guard him he would. Something could be done, something had to be done.

Nobody had noticed the bird that sat in the trees, watching everything that happened that night. Perhaps they had not cared to notice. And unbeknownst to Charlie he was not the only one guarding this child.

A/N:

"Godric's rights" is a reference to infanticide, which has been a common practice in many cultures. I'm not endorsing infanticide, just depicting a conception of it.