Fortune of Fate (A female Harry Potter fanfiction)

[Prologue]

11 years ago:

''Do you know what everyone's been saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'' Professor McGonagall said anxiously, it seemed that she had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as cat nor as woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. 

  It was clear that whatever ''everyone'' was saying, she would only believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

  ''What they're saying,'' she pressed on, ''is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are- are- are that they're dead.''

  Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. ''Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus...''

  Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. ''I know... I know...'' he said heavily.

  Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. ''That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' daughter, Rose. But- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Rose Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone.''

  Dumbledore nodded glumly.

  ''It's- It's true?'' faltered Professor McGonagall. ''After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Rose survive?''

  ''We can only guess,'' said Dumbledore. ''We may never know.''

  Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes beneath her spectacled. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very off watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though because he put it back in his pocket and said, ''Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?''

  ''Yes,'' said Professor McGonagall. ''And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of al places?''

  ''I've come to bring Rose to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now.''

  ''You don't mean- you can't mean the people who live here?'' cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at a little house at number four, Pivet drive. ''Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Rose Potter come and live here!''

  ''It's the best place for her,'' said Dumbledore firmly. ''Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter.''

  ''A letter?'' repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. ''Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous- a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Rose Potter Day in the future- there will be books written about Rose Potter- every child in our world will know her name!''

  ''Exactly,'' said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. ''It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can even walk or talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?''

  Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind,, swallowed, and then said, ''Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?'' She eyed his cloak suddenly as though he might be hiding Rose underneath it.

  ''Hagrid's bringing her.''

  ''You think it- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?''

  ''I would trust Hagrid with my life,'' said Dumbledore.

  ''I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place,'' said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, ''but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what was that?''

  A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sigh of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

  If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed.

  ''Hagrid,'' said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. ''At last. And where di you get that motorcycle?''

  ''Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,'' said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. ''Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir.''

  Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuff of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lighting.

  ''Is that where-?'' whispered Professor McGonagall.

  ''Yes,'' said Dumbledore. ''She'll have that scar forever.''

  ''Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?''

  ''Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give her here, Hagrid- we'd better get this over with.''

  Dumbledore took Rose in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. He stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Rose gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Rose's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle.

  Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

  ''Well,'' said Dumbledore finally, ''that's that. We've got no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.'' The three silently said there goodbyes.

  "Good luck, Rose.'' Dumbledore murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

  A breeze ruffled near the neat hedges of Pivet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Rose Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she would be woken in in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dudley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley... 

  She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voice: ''To Rose Potter - The girl who lived!''