|| Prologue ||
September 19, 1979, Royal United Hospital, Bath, England
"Can I…can I hold her?" the young woman, exhausted but still alert, asked hesitantly. She was staring at the child in the nurse's arms, and a strange mixture of emotions coursed through her: happiness, wariness, terror and sadness. She had just given birth to a child, and she didn't – couldn't - believe it.
"Of course," the nurse replied warmly, giving her a grandmotherly smile. Holding the child tenderly, she gestured for tle="Powered by Text-Enhance" id="_GPLITA_4" href="http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7824763/1/The_Die_Has_Been_Cast#" in_rurl="http://www.textsrv.com/click?v=QVU6MTU5NTE6MTIzNTplbGl6YWJldGg6OWEwODJlODgzMmQ2M2Q3ZDg0MDAyZGJmYmRiZWY3OWU6ei0xMDkyLTE4MDkxOnd3dy5mYW5maWN0aW9uLm5ldA%3D%3D" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 204); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-bottom-color: rgb(153, 153, 255); text-decoration: underline; ">Elizabeth Granger to arrange her arms in the same position as hers, and then placed the little girl, swathed in cloth, against her mother's bosom. The child was awake, staring upwards with a calmness and contentedness she had never seen exemplified
in a newborn before, and in her opinion, she looked like the sweetest child to grace the Earth. "I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes. I'll be back in to do some tests before you can be moved to the postpartum ward."
Elizabeth nodded slowly, and the nurse left. It was just her and the baby now.
She looked at the little girl in her arms. She would look like her, she could tell. The child had the same nose as her, the same mouth, the same facial bone structure… Her colouring was that of Richard's. Skin the colour of porcelain, dark brown hair, almost black…she wondered if it would be curly, like her's. Elizabeth suddenly felt a surge of pride that she could call this girl her daughter. She was beautiful, and calm, and she felt like she had fulfilled her life's goal. The only taint on her delight was the fact that her husband wasn't here. She tried as hard as she could to ignore the gaping space beside her, where he should have been. Instead, he was away on a business trip.
"Hello…darling." Her mouth felt strange forming the unfamiliar words, but the feeling left a small smile on her face. "I'm your mother."
The child gazed at her, and Elizabeth felt the need to shudder. There was a swift moment when she thought that a knowing and aware look had crossed her daughter's eyes, but the moment passed. Shaking her head, she whispered, "Your name is Hermione. Little Hermione Jean Granger. You like that, don't you? A pretty name, for a pretty baby."
It seemed like Hermione had been waiting until her mother had named her, for as soon as her mother had finished talking, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, breathing evenly. Watching fondly, Elizabeth felt a strange tingle that started in her toes and rose all the way up to her head, before settling in her heart, and her eyes widened at the sensation. Was this what mothers described as awe? It certainly felt like it. She was truly a mother.
She found it hard to rip her eyes away from the little angel in her arms, but when she did, her eyes were drawn to the window. Her head cocked to the side when she saw a beautiful owl sitting on the ledge. It was grey, with sharp-looking talons, and the oddest thing about it was the fact that its eyes were completely white. It had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Elizabeth found herself wondering if it was an omen.
December 25, 1979, Greengrass Estate, Kent, England
She should feel different. She knew she should, but she didn't. She was a mother now, and she should feel happy that her first daughter and heiress had been born. Or perhaps relieved that those 9 months of agony and heaviness were all over.
Instead, she felt as if she had just spent another long day managing the Greengrass finance.
She twisted her fingers in her lap and stared out the window. To her surprise, a dove sat on the ledge, watching her surreptitiously. Its eyes were completely white, and it was stunning in a way she couldn't quite make out.
"Lady Greengrass?"
Her eyes were torn away from the window. Her maidservant, Olivia, was standing in the doorway, looking nervous.
"What is it?"
"Your daughter, Lady Greengrass. Daphne. She is being prepared for the ritual. You must…cut her palm." She looked like she wanted to shudder, or worse, retch at that.
Phoebe Greengrass gave a sharp nod. "Where is her father?"
"He is preparing the sacrifice."
"Good. Bring Daphne to me when her blood is needed. Obviously, I cannot move from her just yet." She gave a sneer, and Olivia bobbed her head up and down hurriedly, nervously.
"Of course, Lady Greengrass." She gave a quick curtsey and then left.
Phoebe's mind was suddenly clouded with thoughts about this ritual. Was it good to immerse her daughter in the Dark so early and hastily? Her husband had said it would be worthwhile…his sister, Mordred, had as well. But she was the mother of the family, and she had to do what was best for them…
Her eyes drifted back to the window, but the dove was gone. It had had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Phoebe found herself wondering if it was an omen.
January 28, 1980, Royal London Hospital, London, England
"You've delivered a big one, Ms. Dunbar," Nurse Young said in a clipped voice, handing the chubby baby to her mother, wrapped in blankets. "You'll want to feed her now; she's a right hungry one."
Willow Dunbar nodded, not having the strength or will to talk at that moment. When she saw the enormity of her child, though, she felt anxiety run through her, and forced her tongue to work. "Ah, Nurse Young…is she meant to be so big?"
Nurse Young gave a rare smile and nodded. "It's perfectly normal and healthy. She was carried to full term. If she had been born premature, she would of course be smaller. She'll be fine."
Willow nodded again, gratefully. "Good." She pulled down the front dip of her hospital-issued gown, and allowed her daughter to attach to her bosom. She looked down at her. She was a pretty baby, that was for sure. She had a little button nose, wisps of chestnut hair and pink-tinged skin. The chubbiness actually made her look quite endearing.
"After the child is finished with her first feeding, you'll be moved to the recovery room, Ms. Dunbar." Nurse Young gave a short inclination of the head, which Willow returned. "I just need to go to fetch some things for both you and the child. Have you thought of a name yet?" She knew that the young girl in front of her had no husband, and no partner, and she felt quite sorry for her. When she had had her own son, she had had a lot of fun with her husband looking for names.
Willow tilted her head, before saying, "Fay. I'll name her Fay. She'll be pretty as a fairy when she's grown, I'm sure."
What was that saying? Nurse Young thought, remembering how she had thought the same of her son. There is only one beautiful child in the world, and every parent has it. Or something similar, anyway. Instead of replying, she only smiled again and left.
Willow was left with her daughter suckling on her breast, and she softly touched her lips to the girl's cheek. It would be hard raising her without a father, but they would manage. She didn't allow harsh and uncomplimentary thoughts about her previous boyfriend rise to her mind, not wanting to ruin the special day. Pecking the girl again, she looked out the window. Her lips curled into a bright smile as a striking butterfly flew into the room.
It was completely white, and Willow was surprised to see it was glowing slightly. It flew and landed on her child's blanket. She couldn't help but think that that wasn't normal behaviour for a butterfly. It had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Phoebe found herself wondering if it was an omen.
February 20, 1980, Furness General Hospital, Barrow-in-Furness, England
There was a hush in the ward. Hardly anyone dared to breathe, their eyes locked on the still form of the woman on the bed. She was too still, too unmoving…
"Check the child," the head nurse, a man named Penworth, barked abruptly, disrupting the silence. The nurses began moving hurriedly, cleaning the baby, making sure it was still breathing, that it was healthy. For now, they did nothing to the body. Some of the nurses dispersed to make the unfortunate phone call to the woman's husband and to obtain the paperwork and inform the administration of what had happened.
All this while, the child screamed and wailed and carried on. It was a girl, and Penworth felt sorry for both her and her mother. Neither would know each other, and one would have to live with the fact that she was the cause of her mother's death when she was older. He and another nurse cleaned the child, and then covered her with swathes of cloth and a cap for the head.
"Did she leave a name for the child?" he asked his colleague in a random moment of curiosity, who nodded solemnly.
"Her name's to be Hannah."
"Ah."
One nurse, Penny Gladrose, happened to look out the window, and saw an eagle perched on it. It was abnormally positioned, looking almost human-like in the way it stood and stared at Damia Abbott, it's unnaturally white filled eyes fixed on the woman who had obviously passed on. The thought that the animal wasn't a common thing to see in England didn't even cross Penny's mind. It had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Penny found herself wondering if it was an omen.
April 30, 1980, Black Forest, Germany
The twigs cracked under her swollen feet, and she pushed herself into a sitting position against the big tree behind her. The spell…it had worked! She had had her doubts, but it had worked, it had done everything she had asked…and now, she had delivered her own baby, and she was holding her in her arms, and she had the birth date she had wanted her child to have. She couldn't believe her own ingenuity.
She looked down at the little girl in her arms. Disappointingly, the girl seemed to look exactly like her; she didn't appear to have taken any of her father's features at all. Her heart plummeted at that, but she brightened when she thought of what the child would bring her.
"Child, you shall be named Amanda," she whispered gleefully. "Loveable you are, worthy of love." The woman cackled at her own private, inside joke. "I cannot wait for your father to come back from his travels! A child I have given him, now he'll stay with me for eternity!"
She could hear laughter, shrieking, loud noises in the distance. Those sounds were the reason she had picked this date. Silly Muggles, she snorted.Thinking they can ward off evil with noises. Silly, silly.
Her eyes began to droop, and she cradled the baby to her naked bosom. She felt the child automatically take a nipple into her mouth to suckle. "Sweet baby," she cooed, "you have brought me my life's love. You will be loved like I love your father." A drowsy giggle escaped her lips, and she found she was fighting off sleep. "Baby, let us sleep. I am tired…"
The last thing she saw was a crow, black feathers contrasting with entirely white eyes, staring at her a few metres away. Just before sleep claimed her, she observed it closely. It had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Morgan found herself wondering if it was an omen.
July 20, 1980, Carngarth Hall, Leicestershire, England
Aurora Parkinson wrinkled her nose as her nurse passed her child to her, but was pleased to see that her daughter seemed to be no great beauty – her head was conical, her eyes a bit too far apart, and her nose a bit too squashed. No reason to feel threatened. Logically, a child from her and her husband should have been stunning, but this girl wasn't. Feeling happy about this turn of events, she let the child suckle on her breast.
If it were up to her, she wouldn't even be having a child. She knew how bad and disfiguring it was for the body, and interfering with the postpartum body with magic was dangerous and had an great chance of disfiguring the body even more. Humphrey had been pushing her to give him an heiress, though, and she had. Thank Merlin. From now on, she wouldn't be doing anything that had even the smallest risk of ruining her body. It was, after all, one of her best features, along with her face.
After the child had finished feeding, and had promptly fallen asleep, she immediately handed the child to her nurse and maidservant, not wanting to have to keep holding her. Soon, she was alone in the room, and she was exhausted.
Not sparing another thought for her new daughter and heiress, she instantly began planning a strict diet and exercise regime to get her back in shape. She wanted to get rid of all the extra weight she had gained, and when she thought of all the foods she had eaten as per her pregnancy cravings, she felt disgusted with herself.
It was by random coincidence that she reached to scratch her thigh and that suddenly, there was a snake slithering along her body, up between her legs and onto her abdomen. She gave a terrible, ear-shattering scream, and closed her eyes. The sound of heavy footsteps announced the arrival of someone, and when she opened her eyes, she saw it was her husband, looking worried. Her eyes darted around frantically, but the snake was gone.
It had had completely white eyes that she couldn't seem to get out of her mind no matter how hard she blinked. It had had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Aurora found herself wondering if it was an omen.
July 31, 1980, St. Mungo's, London, England
"It's a girl, Mrs. Potter!" one of the nurses cried excitedly, but Lily, so exhausted after being in labour for thirteen hours, didn't hear her. Instead, her mind was clouded with thoughts of fatigue, and for some reason, she was also very, very hungry.
There was a loud whoop of joy from beside her, and her lips curled into a smile. James was absolutely ecstatic about being a father, she knew, and he was probably just itching to go tell Sirius, Remus and Peter. When he locked eyes with her, she gave him a look that clearly told him what he wanted to hear, and smiling brilliantly, he gave her a kiss and ran out the door.
She almost laughed at his enthusiasm. Any other new father would have stayed there to spend the first few precious minutes with his child, but James was James, and he loved to brag. Being the first father out of their little brotherhood-like gang was definitely cause for boasting.
"Can I see him?" she murmured softly, but the nurses heard her. The nurse who held her child looked at her strangely, but offered the baby, who was immediately pushed to her bosom. When she looked at her child, her mouth formed a small circle, and she let out a faint 'Oh.'
The child that was now feeding from her was not the little Harry she had imagined raising to be a big, strong Gryffindor. Instead, a little girl focused her pert mouth on Lily's nipple, and Lily found herself pleasantly surprised.
Both her and James had wanted to keep the gender of the baby unknown until the birth, but still, she had had such a strong feeling that it would be a boy. She was rarely ever wrong when her gut feelings came into play, but this incident was an obvious exception. She wasn't disappointed, though.
"She's beautiful," she breathed, and it was true. Though her child's head was slightly misshapen from the delivery, her features were more than enough to make up for her head shape. She looked as delicate as a fairy, with black hair and pale skin. She was proud to see that she had inherited the green eyes for which she was famed, and one of the features of her that James had told her he loved so much.
She didn't even notice as the nurses cleaned her up, so entranced was she by her daughter's beauty. Certainly, she was pretty in her own right, but she wasn't the type of beauty she imagined her little daughter would become. She wished James would hurry up and come back, so that he could see their beautiful daughter and they could have this special moment together.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, the doors were flung open, and James Potter strutted into the room, like a puffed up peacock. Lily rolled her eyes, before gesturing for him to hurry up towards her. "James!"
She winced; her voice was more than a little hoarse. James didn't seem to have noticed, and was at her side in seconds, having seen the girl in her arms. Like Lily, at the sight of his daughter, his mouth formed a little 'o'.
"She looks just like you, Lily," he whispered, before immersing his wife in a deep kiss. In it, she could feel the love, awe and admiration he held for her, and she returned it with full force.
It was only when they parted, and her eyes darted quickly to the window in one frightening second, that she saw the lion. When she blinked, it was gone, but she was deeply superstitious, and that lion had had entirely white eyes that had scared her. It had had an eerie, otherworldly quality about it, and for some reason, Lily found herself wondering if it was an omen.
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