She looked at his scar.
"You're just like me."
He looked at her scar.
"I guess so."
+++++
Zoë is just a normal muggle with an unusual family and a scar.
A normal scar she thought
Until she met Harry Potter
*d.malfoy but not always focused on it*
**...
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**TW: blood and vomit. If sensitive, please don't read**
Godric's Hollow. October 31, 1981
Voldemort made his way up the stairs of the Potter's house, not caring that he stepped on the arm of a dead James Potter. He heard the small voice of Lily Potter, following it till he reached the room. He smiled as Lily Potter yelled out to not kill her son, but he knew that she knew she wouldn't live.
The air smelled pleasant with crisp leaves and despair as Voldemort lifted up his wand and murdered Lily. Voldemort couldn't contain his smile, watching the person he truly wanted dead helplessly looked at him with bright green eyes. It was much pleasure for him to lift his wand once more, and direct the Killing Curse to Harry Potter, the boy from the prophecy.
However, it all went wrong when Voldemort felt immense pain shot through his body. He couldn't shake it off as he felt himself wanting to detach from his body.
No...this wasn't supposed to happen.
Voldemort did not understand, but next thing he knew, he was curled up in a close alleyway, shivering not from the cold, but from his souls' exposure to the outside. He was weak.
But what went wrong for the future of Zoë Dumbledore, was that the body was still intact. Each pore in Voldemort's body oozed with bits of his soul wanting to escape, but somehow...
Somehow...
He was still there.
::::::::::
On that exact day, Aberforth Dumbledore apparated from his home in the Hog's Head to Godric's Hollow, wanting to visit the graves of Peverell, Kendra, and Ariana Dumbledore, his family.
He didn't even notice the ruins of the Potter home.
With his head down, he made his way to the kissing gates leading to the church, which was connected to the graveyard.
However, something caught his eye that made him stop.
On the steps to the church, two girls sat in an embrace, one looked to be around four, and the other barely one. They sat in the cold with nothing but some thin sweater to cover them both.
Aberforth didn't know what to do. It was rare for him to feel pity for children, but somehow, the two girls shivering in the cold made him hesitate to leave them there. The smaller girl was the first one to notice him. Her eyes sparkled under the moonlight as she stared at the man, unfazed. The other one finally looked up to see Aberforth. She quickly stood up and embraced the small girl tighter.
"Mommy sent us away to protect us from the explosion." Still embracing the smaller girl, the oldest walked up to Aberforth, as if she knew that he was considering helping her.
Aberforth noticed that she could barely walk, and she swayed side to side because her weak body struggled to keep holding the smaller girl. Aberforth finally moved, picking both of them up and trying to find a place to keep them warm and safe. He managed to find a small cottage at the other end of town, which seemed to have been empty for quite some time. Aberforth opened the door, placing the two girls near what should be the fireplace. Aberforth cursed under his breath, forgetting that the only way he would be able to produce a flame is through magic.
