Kapitel 1: Prologue
The afternoon sunlight illuminated the drawing room of Potter Manor, highlighting the elegant features of Charlus and Dorea Potter. Charlus, with his tall frame and sharp, distinguished features, exuded an air of wisdom and authority. His silver-tinged hair and piercing blue eyes gave him a regal presence. He sat in a high-backed chair, the Daily Prophet open in his hands, his eyes scanning the pages with keen interest behind his spectacles.
Dorea, equally striking, sat opposite him. Her dark hair, only slightly streaked with silver, framed her face gracefully. She possessed an air of refined elegance, with high cheekbones and expressive, dark eyes that held a depth of emotion. Her poise and graceful demeanor were evident in every movement as she turned the pages of an old family photo album, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia.
"It's so quiet without James around," Dorea mused, her voice carrying a soft, melodic quality. She paused at a photograph of young James, his impish grin reflecting the boundless energy and charm that had always been his trademark.
Charlus glanced up from his paper, his expression softening as he met her gaze. "Yes, it is. But it's good for him to spend time with his friends. Sirius, Remus, and Peter are like brothers to him."
Dorea nodded, a fond smile touching her lips. "They're a good lot. Though, sometimes I worry about the trouble they might get into."
Charlus chuckled, his laughter deep and resonant. "Ah, they're just boys. A bit of harmless mischief never hurt anyone. Better for them to have a little adventure now and then than to be cooped up here all the time."
As Dorea turned another page, she came across a photograph from their own youth. The image captured a time when they, too, were full of mischief and adventure. "Do you remember when we used to sneak out to visit the Muggle village nearby? Oh, the fun we had!"
Charlus laughed heartily, the sound filling the room. "How could I forget? We were quite the pair, weren't we? Always managing to stir things up."
The couple fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their memories. The manor, with its centuries of history, seemed to hum with the echoes of the past. It had seen generations of Potters grow up within its walls, each one leaving their mark on the family legacy.
After a while, Dorea closed the album and looked thoughtfully at Charlus. "Do you think James will be alright? The times are getting darker, with Voldemort gaining power."
Charlus reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "James is strong, Dorea. And he's got good friends by his side. We've raised him well. He'll make it through."
Dorea squeezed his hand, drawing comfort from his words. "I hope you're right, Charlus. I truly do."
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the manor, the quiet day at Potter Manor continued. The house was filled with love, memories, and the unspoken hope that their beloved son would find his way in the tumultuous world outside.
However, the peaceful afternoon at Potter Manor was abruptly shattered by the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass. Charlus and Dorea sprang to their feet, wands drawn, their faces a mask of steely determination and fierce resolve. The tranquil manor, with its centuries-old history, was suddenly a battleground.
"Death Eaters," Charlus hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. Despite his distinguished appearance, there was a ferocity in his gaze that spoke of years of battle-hardened experience. He moved swiftly to Dorea's side, his tall frame poised for combat.
Dorea's dark eyes blazed with the intensity of a warrior who had seen too many battles to count. Her movements were fluid and precise as she drew her wand, ready to defend their home. The air crackled with tension as they prepared to face their attackers, the memories of leading the Black Dragon Legion against Grindelwald flooding back. The years had not dulled their ruthlessness.
A group of masked figures in dark robes burst into the drawing room, wands alight with sinister spells. Charlus stepped forward, his wand emitting a brilliant blue light as he cast a powerful Shield Charm, deflecting a volley of curses aimed at them.
"Protego!" he shouted, the protective barrier shimmering in front of them. "Dorea, we stand and fight. No mercy."
Dorea nodded, her expression grim and resolute. She flicked her wand, sending a wave of lethal curses towards the intruders. "Avada Kedavra!" she cried, the green light of the Killing Curse striking one of the Death Eaters, who fell lifeless to the ground.
The grandeur of the manor, with its ornate furniture and ancestral portraits, was now a chaotic scene of battle. Spells ricocheted off the walls, leaving scorch marks and shattered antiques in their wake.
Charlus fought with the precision and power of a seasoned combatant, dueling fiercely with two Death Eaters. His movements were swift and deadly, reflecting years of experience leading the Black Dragon Legion. He disarmed one with a swift Expelliarmus and sent the other flying back with a well-aimed Stupefy. Despite his age, he fought with the vigor of a much younger man, showing no mercy to those who threatened his family.
Dorea moved like a shadow, her dark hair swirling around her as she cast spell after spell. Her wand was an extension of her will, striking down any Death Eater who dared to come near. "Sectumsempra!" she shouted, the curse slashing through the air and incapacitating another attacker.
As more Death Eaters poured into the room, Charlus and Dorea exchanged a quick glance. They knew they were outnumbered, but they were not outmatched. The sheer number of attackers was overwhelming, and despite their skill, they couldn't hold out forever.
Charlus, realizing the dire situation, nodded to Dorea. "We need to regroup. Fall back to the fireplace."
Dorea, covering their retreat with a barrage of curses, moved towards the fireplace. She reached it just as another Death Eater appeared behind her. She spun around, her wand at the ready, and sent a blast of red light at her assailant. The Death Eater crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
"Charlus, now!" she called, urgency in her voice.
Charlus cast one last powerful spell, creating a barrier that would hold off the Death Eaters for a few precious moments. Together, they stepped into the green flames of the Floo, calling out their destination in unison: "Blackmoor Estate!"
The familiar tug of the Floo Network took hold, but instead of arriving at the Black Family Estate, they were abruptly halted, flung back into the drawing room of Potter Manor. The Floo connection had been blocked.
"They've cut us off!" Dorea shouted, her eyes flashing with fury. The barrier Charlus had created was already beginning to falter under the relentless assault of the Death Eaters.
Charlus' mind raced. "Plan B," he said firmly. "We fight our way out."
Dorea nodded, steeling herself. "No mercy," she replied, echoing their old battle cry from their days with the Black Dragon Legion.
Charlus extinguished the dying barrier with a wave of his wand, transforming it into a shockwave that knocked back the closest Death Eaters. "Confringo!" he bellowed, sending a blasting curse into the midst of their enemies, creating a brief but powerful explosion that scattered them.
Dorea was a whirlwind of deadly precision, her curses flying with ruthless efficiency. "Reducto! Incendio!" Her spells tore through the ranks of the Death Eaters, who were beginning to realize that they had severely underestimated their opponents.
As the chaos intensified, the grand drawing room was torn apart. Portraits fell from the walls, and priceless heirlooms were reduced to rubble. But Charlus and Dorea remained undeterred, their focus unwavering. They had fought against the darkest wizard of their time, and they were not about to be taken down by these masked pretenders.
"Charlus, the east wing!" Dorea shouted, pointing towards a secondary staircase that led to the manor's extensive grounds. "We can apparate from there!"
Charlus nodded, covering their retreat with another barrage of curses. "Go! I'll hold them off!"
Dorea hesitated for only a moment before sprinting towards the staircase. She knew better than to argue with Charlus in the heat of battle. Her brother, Arcturus Black, had taught her the importance of tactical withdrawal when necessary.
Charlus unleashed a series of bone-breaking curses, his wand moving in a blur. "Diffindo! Sectumsempra!" His spells were aimed with lethal precision, each one a reminder of why he had been feared on the battlefield.
As Dorea reached the staircase, she turned to see Charlus right behind her. Together, they dashed up the stairs, their breaths coming in short, controlled bursts. The manor's structure groaned under the strain of the ongoing battle below.
Suddenly, a stray spell hit Dorea, sending her flying. She slammed against the wall and crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Charlus' heart pounded in his chest as he rushed to her side, checking her pulse. She was alive, but the situation had just become even more dire.
Charlus stood up, positioning himself in front of his wife's prone form, his face set in grim determination. The Death Eaters closed in, sensing a moment of vulnerability. They did not know that they were about to face the full wrath of a man who had once led the Black Dragon Legion into the fiercest battles of the Grindelwald wars.
His wand was a blur as he cast spell after spell, each one a testament to his formidable power and skill. "Confringo!" he roared, the blasting curse erupting in the midst of the Death Eaters, sending them flying.
"Reducto!" Charlus aimed at a cluster of advancing enemies, the curse reducing the ground beneath them to rubble. "Diffindo!" He sliced through the air, the severing charm striking down one of the masked figures.
The Death Eaters hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the sheer ferocity of Charlus' assault. But their hesitation was their undoing. With a primal roar, Charlus conjured a dragon-shaped Patronus, its ethereal form echoing the crest of the Potter family—the Hebridean Black Dragon. The majestic creature roared, charging at the Death Eaters and scattering them in fear.
Charlus capitalized on their disarray. "Sectumsempra!" he shouted, the curse slashing through the air, incapacitating another foe. He fought with the ruthless efficiency of a man who had seen and caused unspeakable destruction in the name of justice.
One Death Eater, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, lunged at Charlus. With a swift flick of his wand, Charlus disarmed him. "Expelliarmus!" The Death Eater's wand flew out of his hand, and with a second spell, "Stupefy!" Charlus sent him crashing into a wall.
"Incendio!" Charlus aimed at a group attempting to flank him, the fire igniting their robes and causing them to retreat in panic. He stood as an implacable force, a guardian not only of his home but of his beloved wife who lay behind him.
Despite the overwhelming odds, Charlus did not falter. The Potters had faced dark times before, and he was determined that neither he nor Dorea would fall to these pretenders. With every spell, he pushed them back, his eyes blazing with the fierce light of defiance.
Suddenly, a powerful voice echoed through the shattered remains of the drawing room. "Retreat!" one of the Death Eaters commanded, realizing that they had underestimated their prey. Reluctantly, the dark wizards began to withdraw, their retreat marked by hurried Disapparations.
Charlus stood his ground, his wand still at the ready, until the last of them had vanished. Only then did he turn back to Dorea, his expression softening as he knelt beside her.
"Dorea," he murmured, gently lifting her into his arms. He could feel her breathing, steady but shallow. "Hang on, my love. We'll get through this."
Just as Charlus thought it was over, a chilling presence filled the room. The temperature seemed to drop, and the shadows deepened unnaturally. Charlus' heart clenched as he turned to see the tall, pale figure of Voldemort step into the room, his eyes burning with malevolent intent.
"Charlus Potter," Voldemort hissed, his voice cold and serpentine. "You have been a thorn in my side for too long."
Charlus set Dorea gently on the floor and rose to his full height, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. "Tom Riddle," he replied, his voice steady and defiant. "You won't have her. You won't have us."
Voldemort's lip curled in a cruel smile. "Brave words. Let's see if your actions match them."
With a swift motion, Voldemort flicked his wand, sending a jet of green light towards Charlus. "Avada Kedavra!"
Charlus dodged, the curse narrowly missing him. He countered with a powerful spell of his own. "Confringo!" The blasting curse hurtled towards Voldemort, but the dark wizard deflected it with ease, sending it crashing into the wall.
The two wizards circled each other, their wands poised. The room crackled with magical energy as they exchanged curses and counter-curses at a furious pace. Charlus fought with a ferocity born of desperation and love, his movements a blend of precision and raw power.
"Diffindo!" Charlus shouted, aiming to cut down Voldemort. The spell slashed through the air, but Voldemort deflected it effortlessly.
"Crucio!" Voldemort cast, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. Charlus deflected the curse, but the effort cost him, his movements becoming slightly slower.
"You cannot win, Potter," Voldemort sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your time is over. The old ways are dead."
Charlus gritted his teeth, his resolve unwavering. "As long as we stand, you will never win."
Voldemort's response was a torrent of curses, each more deadly than the last. Charlus parried and countered, but he was growing tired. The long battle and his concern for Dorea were taking their toll.
With a surge of strength, Charlus cast a spell meant to buy him a moment. "Protego Maxima!" A shimmering shield enveloped him, and he used the brief respite to glance at Dorea, still lying unconscious.
Voldemort advanced, his eyes locked onto Charlus. "Your shield won't save you."
Charlus knew he couldn't keep up the shield indefinitely. He needed a plan. As Voldemort struck again, Charlus dropped the shield and lunged forward, casting "Expelliarmus!" in a desperate bid to disarm his foe.
But Voldemort was faster. "Avada Kedavra!" he hissed, the green light of the Killing Curse speeding towards Charlus.
In a desperate move, Charlus flicked his wand with expert precision, conjuring a ball of glass in the path of the curse. The Killing Curse struck the glass, shattering it into a million pieces with a deafening explosion. The force of the impact sent Charlus flying backward, his body crashing into the rubble of the once-grand drawing room.
He lay there, unmoving, amidst the debris. To all appearances, Charlus Potter was dead.
Voldemort advanced, his red eyes scanning the rubble for any sign of movement. Satisfied that Charlus was no longer a threat, he turned his attention to the unconscious Dorea. His smile was cold and triumphant as he raised his wand once more, ready to eliminate the last of the Potter resistance.
"Such a waste," Voldemort murmured, his voice filled with disdain. "But necessary."
Before he could utter the fatal curse, a sudden, powerful force knocked him off balance. Charlus, bruised and bleeding but very much alive, had used the last of his strength to send a blast of raw magical energy towards Voldemort.
"You will not touch her!" Charlus roared, his voice filled with unwavering defiance.
Voldemort staggered but quickly regained his composure, his expression darkening with fury. "Impressive, Potter," he spat, "but futile."
Charlus struggled to stand, his body aching from the impact. He could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, but he refused to give in. Drawing on every ounce of his remaining strength, he prepared to face Voldemort once more.
Just then, a series of loud cracks echoed through the room as a group of Aurors, alerted by the emergency wards, apparated into the manor. Among them was Arcturus Black, his wand at the ready and eyes blazing with fury.
"Leave my family alone, Tom," Arcturus growled, stepping between Voldemort and the Potters. The room filled with the sound of wands being drawn and spells being cast as the battle reignited.
Seeing the reinforcements and knowing he was outnumbered, Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "This isn't over," he hissed, before disapparating with a sharp crack.
The room fell silent for a moment, the aftermath of the battle hanging heavy in the air. Charlus, his strength finally failing, collapsed back into the rubble. Arcturus and the others rushed to his side.
"Charlus!" Arcturus knelt beside his friend, his face etched with concern. "Stay with us."
Charlus' eyes fluttered open briefly, his voice weak but determined. "Dorea...is she...?"
Arcturus nodded, his face grim but reassuring. "She's alive, Charlus. She's going to be alright. We're getting you both out of here."
Charlus managed a faint smile before his eyes closed again, his body succumbing to the exhaustion and injuries. Arcturus quickly cast a stabilizing charm on him, knowing that every second counted.
As the Aurors and Order members worked to secure the manor, Charlus and Dorea were carefully levitated and transported to the secure location of Blackmoor Estate. Healers were immediately summoned, their expressions becoming grave as they assessed the extent of the Potters' injuries.
Hours turned into days as Charlus and Dorea lay in the master bedroom of Blackmoor, surrounded by magical monitors and potions. The best healers from St. Mungo's and the Order worked tirelessly, but despite their efforts, both Charlus and Dorea slipped into a deep, unresponsive state.
The healers explained that the trauma and strain of the battle, combined with the powerful curses they had endured, had caused them to fall into a coma. Their bodies were alive, but their minds were unreachable, locked away in a protective sleep as they fought to heal.
Arcturus stood vigil by their bedside, his heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and determination. He had lost many comrades in the Grindelwald wars, but seeing his sister and best friend like this was a different kind of pain. He vowed to protect their legacy and ensure that the Death Eaters would pay for what they had done.
News of the Potters' condition spread quickly through the wizarding community, galvanizing those who opposed Voldemort and his followers. The attack on one of the most respected wizarding families underscored the urgent need to stand against the rising darkness.
With Charlus Potter unconscious, Arcturus Black, his closest ally and brother-in-law, knew that seeking help from the Order of the Phoenix was not an option. The ideological differences between Charlus, Arcturus, and Albus Dumbledore were too vast to bridge.
Instead, Arcturus made a swift decision to rally their own allies, a network of trusted friends and fellow veterans from the Grindelwald wars. They were individuals who shared Charlus and Arcturus' belief in a more proactive and uncompromising approach to combating dark forces.
While James Potter and his friends, influenced by their admiration for Dumbledore, remained loyal to the Order, they respected Charlus and Arcturus' decision to pursue their own path. Over the years, despite their ideological differences, James and his friends recognized the valor and experience of Charlus and Arcturus and understood the importance of unity within the wizarding community.
As Charlus and Dorea slipped into comas, Arcturus doubled down on his efforts, ensuring that their legacy would not be tarnished by the cowardice and corruption of the Ministry or the passivity of the Order.
In the shadows, away from the public eye, Arcturus and his allies waged a secret war against Voldemort, gathering intelligence, sabotaging Death Eater operations, and rescuing those targeted by the dark regime.
Their actions inspired others to join the resistance, forming a formidable underground movement that operated outside the constraints of traditional wizarding institutions. Charlus and Dorea, though unconscious, became symbols of defiance and courage, fueling the flames of resistance even in their absence.
And so, while the official narrative of the war against Voldemort unfolded with the Order of the Phoenix at its forefront, a parallel struggle waged by Charlus, Arcturus, and their allies remained hidden from view, a testament to the complexity and diversity of the resistance against the darkness.
—
As the tragic events of Halloween 1981 unfolded, the wizarding world was plunged into turmoil once again. Voldemort's attempt to kill Harry Potter had resulted in his own downfall, but the cost was high. James and Lily Potter were dead, and their young son, Harry, was left with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead as the only visible reminder of the horrific night.
Following the tragic events of that night, Harry Potter, the sole survivor of Voldemort's curse, was sent by Dumbledore to live with his maternal relatives, the Dursleys, under the care of Lily's sister, Petunia. However, the environment at the Dursley household proved to be far from nurturing for young Harry.
Petunia and her husband Vernon were resentful of Harry's presence, viewing him as a burden and a constant reminder of Lily's magical heritage. They subjected him to neglect, emotional abuse, and mistreatment, treating him more like a servant than a member of the family.
Harry's childhood at the Dursleys' was marked by loneliness, isolation, and a deep longing for a sense of belonging. Despite the harsh treatment he endured, Harry showed remarkable resilience and courage, finding solace in his connection to the wizarding world and the memories of his parents.
Meanwhile, Charlus and Dorea Potter remained in comas, their condition unchanged despite the passage of time.
As the years passed and the wizarding world attempted to move on from the horrors of the past, Arcturus Black found himself facing a new set of challenges. Despite his best efforts to resist Voldemort's followers and protect the legacy of the Potters, his own family became entangled in a web of suspicion and betrayal.
The wrongful imprisonment of Sirius Black, Arcturus' grandson and Harry's godfather, cast a dark shadow over the Black family name. Sirius, James' best friend and a staunch ally in the fight against Voldemort, was falsely accused of betraying the Potters as their secret keeper, leading to their deaths.
Arcturus fought tirelessly to clear Sirius' name, knowing in his heart that his grandson was innocent. But his efforts fell on deaf ears, overshadowed by the lingering stigma attached to the Black family due to the actions of Bellatrix Lestrange and other Death Eaters.
—
As Harry, the young boy with the lightning scar on his forehead, lay in the dark confines of the cupboard under the stairs, his heart heavy with fear and loneliness, a remarkable event occurred in a distant part of the wizarding world.
In a quiet room at Blackmoor Estate, Charlus and Dorea Potter, who had been in a deep slumber for years, suddenly stirred. Their eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains. Confusion clouded their senses as they slowly regained consciousness, disoriented by the passage of time.
"Charlus..." Dorea's voice was barely a whisper, filled with disbelief.
"Dorea..." Charlus reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he grasped hers. "We're awake..."
---
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