Author's Note:
The following story is a Harry Potter Fan Fic. I'll count it as the first I've ever done, because the others... didn't count.
Anybody who's ever read any fan fic knows the traditional rules and disclaimers: I don't have anything to do with J.K. Rowling or Warner Brothers or any of these people, blah blah blah. The few original characters in this are basically cardboard cutouts, so feel free to use "Man in Line Number Two" if you so feel.
Now, this story's special because I came up with the premise pretty much immediately after I learned some special facts about the dates that various events occur. Apparently, I'm the only person in the cosmos who somehow missed the fact that all these books are taking place in the 90's. Specifically, Harry joins Hogwarts in 1991. Seriously. So, he was born in 1980. And conceived on Halloween.
Oh those kinky brits.
Speaking of which... on the off chance that you're JK Rowling, (I know you read at least some Fan Fics based on your knowledge of shippers and slash and whatnot) you need to close this window immediately. Do not read any further. I'm sure you think after reading the eighth "HarryXSnape" story in a row that you can take anything. That you're invincible. But you have a relationship with these characters. Like parent and child. And nobody wants to see what's about to happen to your characters happen to their child.
Seriously, this story could do a necronomicon on you. Your brain very well could melt out your ears. You may even decide to quit writing the seventh book simply out of disgust. So please, stop reading. I seriously am in dire need of knowing how it ends now. You've hooked me. If the seventh book never comes out because I melted your brain, I may have to... well... I guess I'll find another series, but there'd be a 15 minute period there where... gosh. I'd be lost.
I'm so sorry.
Seriously.
Also, if you're a furry, I'm gonna make horrible statements about your "people". I have very little experience in the anthropomorphic society.
Furthermore, there are suggestions of sexual contact in this story that may offend sensitive readers. They ae nothing but innuendo, and therefore should be safe for those under the age of 18.
Enough of this!
Plot Ahoy!
The Making of Harry Potter
By Jarl
Consider Godric's Hollow, a tiny village in northern England.
It's Halloween night, 1979. There's a sprinkling of snow in the air, a faint haze of fluffy white.
Here is a small house, the kind they call a "ranch". It was built in the 1950s.
It's the height of the war, though few know it. Only a select few people are fighting the war. The general population would be surprised and, frankly, dismayed that such a war was occurring all around them.
It was Wizard's War.
It was Wizard War One.
It had started in the early sixties when an English wizard named Tom Marvolo Riddle had tread where few dare, searching the depths of dark, forgotten knowledge, to begin forging his Horcruxes.
A Horcrux is a phylactery, a soul-hidey-place. As long as the Horcrux is operating, the person who created it... is immortal.
This is a war for immortality.
The war began when Tom Riddle decided to "clean up". He decided that he was the greatest wizard who ever lived. Therefore, he should be in charge.
The wizard community is roughly the same as the Muggle community. Muggle, that word means "non-magical person". The wizards in Britain, for example, are governed by the Minister of Magic. They go to a special school in Britain called Hogwarts. They have special little towns and whatnot.
Tom Riddle doesn't care for this arrangement.
In Tom Riddle's mind, he should be in charge of everything. Wizards, Muggles, Elves, Centaurs, Giants, everything.
In Tom Riddle's mind, the ruling of the entire universe is far too important a thing to leave in the hands of someone mortal.
Tom Marvolo Riddle changed his name at a young age to Lord Voldemort. Yeah. Scary name.
Lord Voldemort has recently received a dire prophecy from one of his followers. Voldemort calls his followers "Death Eaters". They dress up like the Ku Klux Klan and run around torturing Muggles and Wizards alike.
This Death Eater, a greasy pointy one named Severus, has just told Lord Voldemort of this prophecy. It was delivered by a mystic, a diviner, named Trelwaney. Trelwaney is the descendant of a famous prophet. Trelwaney is not as gifted as her ancestor. Trelwaney needs work, room, and board. Trelwaney's not excited about earning 2 knuts the hard way.
The prophecy, delivered under circumstances that, when you think about it, make it somewhat dubious, was witnessed by a wizard named Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. He is the chief warlock of the Wizengamot. He is the spiritual leader of the magical community.
Severus, the greasy and pointy Death Eater, was interrupted during his eavesdropping by Aberforth Dumbledore, brother of the headmaster.
Severus has told the dark lord Voldemort of this prophecy.
It fortells the rise of a wizard, born as the seventh month dies to those who have thrice defied the dark lord. One shall die by the other's hand.
Severus was interrupted by Aberforth before he could hear the most important part.
The Dark Lord will mark him his equal. The newly born wizard shall know power the Dark Lord does not.
How does this tie in with the small ranch house in Godric's Hollow?
In this house, on a couch, is a man named James Potter.
James Potter is a pureblood wizard. He's married to a halfblood witch named Lilly Evans. He's drinking a beer. He's watching television.
It's that woman, Vampirella, with the mighty eldritch bosoms.
"And now, back to The Dark Wizard, on the BBC's Halloween Midnight Theater."
James perked up and called out, "Lilly!"
No answer.
"Lilly? Come out! There's something funny on TV!"
No answer.
"You get right out here now, woman!" That should get her attention. Sure, he'd get smacked around, but she'd appreciate the movie.
No answer.
James got up. "Listen, I'm sorry about the whole 'woman' thing, alright? I was kidding. Lilly?" He looked in the kitchen. He looked in the bathroom. He looked in the bedroom. Lilly was gone.
He looked in the hallway, leading to the front door, and found a note.
"Dear James," he read aloud, "I have gone out to pick up sweets for the trick-or-treaters. Be back by 1. Love, Lilly."
He smiled then looked at the clock. It was 11 o'clock at night. Two hours.
He looked back at the note.
He looked at the clock.
He looked back to the TV.
An evil grim spread.
Lilly was in the car. There was no candy. There would be no candy.
Right now, she was applying lipstick and pulling stockings on. She was wearing a black miniskirt and a black corset. Next would come the tail and the ears, followed by the charming of the eyes and bust.
Her wand was driving the car.
"Where the hell is this place?" she wondered aloud as she looked out the passenger window and tied her garters.
Wham!
The car jerked to a sudden halt. Her lipstick made a line of red along her face.
"Bugger!"
"Oh my god! What have you done to my car?"
Lilly winced then leaned out the window. A muggle man was staring at his dented bumper. She threw the car in reverse, pulled back, then gunned away.
"Hey! Wait! I saw your plate! I know your number!"
"Obliviate!"
Things have been cooling off with Lilly lately... James was thinking, pulling out his wand, And I just happen to know the location of a top-notch Yiff party!
He tapped the bridge of his nose with his wand, and sprouted antlers.
Lilly pulled up in front of the house. Someone was passed out on the lawn. The front door was open, with light and noise pouring out. She stepped out of the car, her wand parking it for her. She was wearing the traditional "bad kitty" outfit.
The upside to going to Furry parties as a cat was that nobody cared if women wore fursuits as cats. Everything else, there was about fur inches of air and carefully manicured fur and wire to put out appearances.
All you need to be a cat is a tail, some ears, maybe paint on some whiskers.
Oh, and you wear your underwear on the outside. Like a superhero.
Things have been cooling off with James, she thought to herself as she got out of the car, and it's only one little party...
Lilly walked into the house, and was enveloped in the heady stench of recreational drugs. Someone nearby was dressed as a mouse and taking a hit off a hookah. He winked at her.
Two alligators were making out on the couch. There was a woman dressed as a bat hanging from some kind of swing on the ceiling, singing off key.
"I can't wait for the invention of the internet," one furry said to the other.
"Yes, then we shall truly spread," the other responded.
Lilly made her way to the punch table. First, get drunk, then, get nailed.
And then... he walked in.
Lilly looked to the door, and was suddenly all elevator eyes. Someone had managed a stag suit. A realistic stag suit. In tight pants.
She turned away in embarrassment as he walked towards her. He sauntered up to the bar, right next to her.
"Have you been a bad kitty?" was what he asked. It was all he needed to ask.
This part of the story takes place in Lilly Potter's car, but it's too dirty to share.
James hastily took his shoes off as he jumped for the couch. He could hear Lilly's car pulling up in the driveway. He rolled onto the couch just as the door opened.
Lilly hobbled in, her hair messed and her clothes loose. James looked up casually.
"Hi hon. Back already?"
She nodded.
He squinted.
"Do you have whiskers on?"
Lilly's heart stopped.
"What do you mean?" She asked, turning to examine herself in the mirror. "Originalis Dermus" she mumbled, her whiskers fading.
She turned back.
"I don't see any whiskers."
James nodded, "Guess it was just a trick of the light," he looked around, "You don't have any sweets."
Lilly paled. "Oh... drat... I knew I forgot something!" She cocked her head, "I think I should go back and get some."
She ran out the door.
James sat up, sweating heavily. I gotta get back to that party, gotta get some more of that pussy!
This part of the story is also nasty, and also takes place in Lilly Potter's car.
It was nine months later.
June 31st, midnight, 1980.
The doctor carefully handed the baby to Lilly and James Potter.
Lilly looked down.
"Oh thank god he looks so damn much like you, James!" she shouted.
James winced.
This was a poorly written story, I apologize.
Let me try better.
It was Halloween again.
Halloween, midnight, 1980.
James and Lilly Potter were asleep in bed.
And then, there was a knock at the door.
James and Lilly did not stir from their sleep.
Another knock.
James snorted.
A third knock, this time with emphasis.
James and Lilly sat bolt upright in bed.
Knocking, normal once again.
Lilly scoffed and fell back into bed. "It's Peter again," she mumbled, "Go answer it Jim."
James didn't move. "Peter!" he shouted, "Go back home! It's midnight!" Lilly winced.
The knocking continued.
James got up. Lilly sat up and eventually followed.
"Peter! What is so important it can't possibly wait until morning?" James shouted.
Lilly stopped as they came to Harry's crib. She covered him with the blanket as James went to open the door.
"Peter! I'm in here with Lilly!" James continued. Lilly sent him a look. "Er... I mean, of course I'm in here with Lilly! Who else would be here?" There was a hint of desperation, "Go home Peter!"
There was a final rasping knocking.
James opened the door.
And the Dark Lord Voldemort gazed back into him.
Voldemort has sought out a certain Wizard named Peter Pettigrew.
Peter Pettigrew is the secret keeper for the Potters. Their location is unlpottable, inconceivable, and generally well hidden. As long as Peter Pettigrew keeps the secret.
Peter Pettigrew gave the secret up to Voldemort in exchange for wealth, power, and not finding out what "Avada Kedavra" feels like.
Currently, Sirius Black is racing to the Potter's residence (maybe Peter told him where it was) to save them from Voldemort.
He may arrive too late to save our dear furries.
"It's you!" James Potter shouted in surprise.
The snakelike dark lord pushed him inside and slammed the door shut behind him. He held his wand out in an unfriendly manner and hissed something unfamiliar and distressing.
"What did he say?" Lilly shouted, backing away from lord Voldemort.
"Ssssssssss****, wasss I sssspeaking in parsssssssletongue again?" Voldemort hissed.
Maybe "hissssssed".
"What are you doing here?" James demanded, feeling around his boxers for his wand. No, his other wand.
"I'm here to sssssssssssecure my immortality!" the dark lord hissssed.
"Do you have to hiss like that?" Lilly asked.
Voldemort stepped forward with a defensive (defenssssssive?) look on his face. "Yessss. I'm kinda Obssss... obssssssssss... obssssessss... OCccccD about it."
He held up his wand again.
"I'm going to have to kill your child if you don't mind," he hissed without the use of any essssssssses. Oh drat.
"No!" James shouted, jumping between Voldemort and his son.
"James!" Lilly shouted, tossing her husband his wand. James caught it and spun to face the semi-immortal wizard.
"I swear to you, Riddle, I will fight you to my dying bre-aarrgh..."
James's lifeless body sank to the floor quietly.
Lilly jumped in front of her baby. Her baby baby, that is, not her baby in the "you's da only one I love, baby!" sorta way. He's dead.
"I'll kill you Riddle!" Lilly screamed and pulled out her wand. "Avada Kedavra!"
The green bolt went wide, hit a vase, and cracked it.
"****!" Lilly shouted in frustration, "That was my aunt's!"
Voldemort laughed, "Sssssstand asssside, Lilly Potter!"
"No!" Lilly shouted, "I won't let you kill my baby!"
Voldemort jumped back as if burned. "Sssssssser... really?"
"Of course not!"
"You meant... given the chance to sssssssimply walk away, you'd willingly die for your ssssssssson?"
"Of course I would!"
Voldemort broke into tears.
"Gosh... I mean, I wish my family could have been like yours. My parentsssss weren't very good to each other, or to me. I mean," he lowered his head and a sob wracked his body, "I mean, you two are so kind and courteoussssss and ressssspect each other'sssssss opinionsssss and don't ussssse magic to date-rape one another for monthssss at a time..."
Lilly was taken slightly aback.
"Ah hell," Voldemort said, raising his head, "I'll kill you anyways. Avada Kedavra."
Lilly thumped before the crib of her baby boy.
Voldemort wiped away a tear and hissed, "It'ssss a long road ahead, Tom."
He then looked at the child.
"Ssssso you're the sssson of Jamessss and Lilly Potter? The wizzzz... well, there's no real sssssss ssssound in wizard... you're the wizard who'ssss going to dessssstroy me?"
Harry Potter winced and soiled himself.
"Well, it'ssssss time to get to work. You're an important victim, so you deserve the honor of tearing my sssssoul a new one. Now, time for my trusssssty artifact..." Voldemort reached into his robe and pulled out the artifact he had been saving, or perhaps ssssssaving: The Ceramic Cat Figurine of Ravenclaw.
It was broken.
"Bugger!" the dark lord cried out and threw the remains on the floor. He glared at the infant before him. "Oh jussssst you wait and sssssssssee, Potter!" He looked down at Harry's broken family, and began to go through their pockets.
"Let'ssss see..." he said, searching James, "We have... a wallet... driver'sssss lissssss... Card, a credit card... three quid..." Voldemort quietly removed the money and put it into his pocket, "A condom... honessstly, what doessss a married man need a condom for? Oooh, an accccid pop!" The dark lord cheerfully stole candy from the corpse and began ssssucking on it, making a ssssour face. He then turned to Lilly.
"Huh... another driver'thththth liththththtenthththththt... mmm," he pulled the Acid Pop from his mouth and licked his lips before re-inserting it, "Ththththome money..." again, he pick-pocketed the dead person, "Nothing! Drat!" He looked up.
Hell, these people live in "Godric's Hollow", that's hardly subtle, Voldemort thought without the use of a lisping hiss, They've gotta have something of old Gryffii's around here.
Voldemort began to thththearch the house for artifacts that once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders of Hogwarts.
Huh... this is nice china, the Dark Lord thought silently to himself, but is it Gryffindor's china? Damn.
This is a nice table. Oooh, an antique. Huh... I wonder if it's Gryffindor's table? Damn.
Gosh this is an old TV... huh... is it Gryffindor's TV?!?! Bugger!
Voldemort wandered aimlessly until he came to the fireplace. Over the mantle was a sword.
And the side of the sword said "GODRIC GRYFFINDOR".
"Hell, I wish it had been thithththt eathththy with the other Horcruxththeththt," Voldemort muttered and pulled the sword off the wall.
He jammed the thththword into the floor next to Harry's crib, taking care not to stab any dead people.
"Damn corpththtethth... creep me out... bad phobia for my line of work..." he mumbled, then stared at the child in front of him.
"A great honor is upon you, Harry Potter. You shall make the Dark Lord immortal."
And at that moment, some moron outside pulled up on a motorcycle.
Voldemort winced and waved his wand, muttering Silencio Temporalis.
Then, there was a frantic knocking at the door.
"James! Lilly! Peter has betrayed you! Quickly, you must leave! The dark lord approaches!" came the frantic cry.
The dark lord in question rolled his eyes, prepared his best falsetto and shouted, "Juthththt a minute, Thththiriuthththth Black! Uno momento por favore desuka!"
"What the hell? Who's in there? Is that you, Peter?"
Voldemort ignored the crazy Black outside and focused on Harry, pulling his yew wand out.
What goes through the mind of the Black Angel of Death Incarnate as he prepares to sacrifice an infant for his own immortality?
Huh... I wonder if I left the oven on... dammit, I did.
This paint is a really nice color. Kind of, like, a shade above crimson maybe? I like it. I mean, I'm not so much into red, but it's a nice color.
I wonder what I should have for dinner tonight? I was just going to microwave something, but I could really go for a steak after killing this toddler.
Drat, that Sirius guy really has it in for me. What did I ever do to him? Oh yeah, that whole evil wizard thing, keep forgetting.
Huh. I wonder if your name is Harold or Harrison... guess I'll never know.
Weird... I never thought of it, but Avada Kedavra could come from Aramaic, where it means "I destroy as I speak" or from "Avatar Cadaver", which sounds a lot like it... just another one of those things, I guess.
*crunch* Never had the patience to lick anyways.
"And now, young Harry..." Voldemort murmured, eyes half lidded in an almost pre-orgasmic expression... "You will die."
"AVADA...
KEDAVRA!"
There was a brief flash of green light.
Oh, I immediately regret this excursion to Godric's Hollow.
Thus was ended the first rule of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and began the legend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.
-Sorry for not splitting it up into itty-bitty bits, but you know how it is.
