Great Expectations

August 9th, 1977

His long, pale finger trailed over the hard cover of the ancient leathery tome laying on the table in front of him. The Dark Lord paused briefly when he encountered the crest of the Selwyns; a faint snort escaped his lips as they curled into a smile.

The Selwyns might be one of the older British pureblood families, but they had fallen from grace a long time ago. Their Galleons were spent, and their reputation in the Wizengamot and wizarding society was tarnished. All that was left was obsessive pride in their ancestry and the need to boast around with it at any given opportunity.

And yet, to prove that oh so noble ancestry they desperately cling on to the faint glimmer of hope that one day their family might rise again. For that, the Selwyns possessed something that was hard to come by in all of Britain, perhaps even magical Europe.

'Ancestral records, reaching back even farther than those of the Ministry.'

Persuading the current head of the family to part from them and allow the Dark Lord to examine them had been a considerable effort.

He felt a small ripple of excitement as he flipped open the hardcover. He could tell that this treasure of knowledge held the answers to many of his questions. His eyes roamed over the page of a glossary; tiny golden ink letters had been elaborately drawn next to the crest of each of the oldest houses.

He was instinctively drawn to three names, their crest making it easy to spot them among the lesser, more recent houses.

'Peverell, Slytherin, Gaunt.'

His fingers twitched to the bottom of the page and he started flipping them, now barely able to contain his eagerness.

Complete and utter chaos awaited on the page dedicated to the Peverells. Lines were drawn from left to right, up and down, diagonally over the yellowed pages. All the way at the top of the page he found the very first entry:

Marcellus Augustus Peverell

Two further words had been scribbled right next to the name in tiny handwriting: 'Urbs Aeterna'

"The Eternal City." The Dark Lord hummed. It was true that the Peverells were of Roman ancestry then.

His eyes tracked lower, trying to make out some of the many lines that all had Marcellus and his wife as their origin; yet the task seemed impossible. Over the two millennia the family had existed, they had married members of so many other families even the names of the spouses had been abbreviated and not fully written so as to not cram the pages.

The Dark Lord shook his head in frustration and flicked his wand into his palm. The tip of yew trailed over the pages for a few minutes while he hummed under his breath. Then he thrust the wand forward and gave it a small flick.

Purple traces of magic emerged from black letters, twisting and turning in mid-air until they formed an exact replica of the pages they originated from; only that the replica was several times the scale.

The Dark Lord forced his magic into it, allowing it to expand until it built a giant wall of blazing lines, letters, and names in the center of the room. He stepped forward and examined his work carefully. At least now he was able to properly track down each of the lines, blending out those he had little interest in.

He followed down the line of Marcellus oldest offspring and continued with the oldest son, occasionally skipping an entire generation or even decade when no entries had been recorded. Finally, he encountered three names that had been positioned right at the center of the hologram.

"Antioch, Cadmus, Ignotus." The Dark Lord grimaced. 'Was this where the boy had come from?'

The Dark Lord's eyes followed the line of the youngest brother, stumbling over an 'Aurelius' until they finally landed on an only child, a daughter, named 'Iolanthe'. He was about to turn his attention back to one of the two older brothers, knowing that a daughter could not have passed on the name any further, when he suddenly frowned.

'Potter.'

Iolanthe Peverell had married a Potter and now the last living Peverell had immediately sought out the Potters upon his return to England. Could there be a connection?

He would ponder over the matter later and perhaps study the pages of the Potters to find out more. For now, the Dark Lord went back to the oldest brother, Antioch.

Much to his disappointment. The man had died rather early in his life, leaving behind a single son who died childless himself. Instead, the middle brother seemed to have the largest ancestry with multiple lines originating in him and his wife, who passed away after bearing him four children.

Again, he followed down one of them, blending out anything else until he stumbled over a weird arrangement of lines. At first glance, one might think the family might have performed incest, something that wasn't too uncommon for pureblood families in those times. However, upon closer inspection, it was simply an exchange of sorts. A son and a daughter from each of the two families married among another.

However, it was not the constellation that had the Dark Lord gaping, but the name of the family that accepted a daughter from the Peverells in exchange for giving one themselves.

'Gaunt'

Gormlaith Gaunt had taken Igraine Peverell for his wife while giving his younger sister Margaret to Augustus Peverell.

The Dark Lord grimaced, clenching his jaw when he found the union had produced offspring whose names had simply not been recorded.

'Could this be the origin of the Peverell boy?'

'Was there a chance that he and Peverell were more closely related than either of them assumed?'

Another thought twirled through his mind; this one was much more irksome and problematic than he would like. Peverell had demonstrated his awareness of family magic during his trial at the wizengamot, even showcasing a small part of his own unique magic.

'But could there be much more to it?'

The Dark Lord's eyes came resting on the name of his ancestor, the woman who married into the Peverells.

'What were the chances that she had carried over the noble gift that ran through his blood and even passed it on to her offspring?'

'Could Peverell be a Parselmouth?'

A loud knock on the door interrupted his thought process and made him spin around on the spot, extinguishing his hologram and flicking open the door: "I thought I made it clear I wasn't to be disturbed!"

"My- my Lord." Rodolphus Lestrange slammed to his knees, grimacing as he experienced a ripple of pain: "I apologize for disturbing you, my Lord, but I believe to have something of note to report."

"And what could be important enough to ignore a direct order, Rodolphus?" The Dark Lord's hand itched to raise the pale yew wand, as it always did in the presence of those that had disappointed him. If it weren't for the backlash his cause might receive, he would like nothing more than to kill the Lestrange heir for allowing the Cup to be stolen from right underneath his nose.

"As per your orders, my brother and wife keep in contact with all the new recruits over the summer to arrange their training." Rodolphus panted, still on his knees: "One of the most promising recruits, the Snape boy, whom you have granted your mark already has not responded to any of our calls for a few days."

"Has he betrayed us?" The Dark Lord felt his ire stir. The boy had been different from the other dunderheads that joined his ranks. A half-blood he might be, and yet, he was not without talent, be it in the field of potions and antidotes or even something more complex like spell crafting or the mind arts. Wizards of such skill were indeed very rare to come by.

"No- no my Lord." Rodolphus stuttered: "We- we found him in his muggle home."

The young man glanced over his shoulder and gave a nod. His younger brother entered the room, wand held outstretched and levitating the blood-stained body of a boy.

The Dark Lord's eyes roamed over long, greasy ebony hair, a pale face, and swollen bloodied lips. Even in this state, it was easy to recognize Severus Snape.

"How exactly did you find him?" He flared his nostrils, running his wand over the length of the floating body.

"He was laying in the middle of the living room of his shabby muggle home." Rodolphus reported; the distaste evident in his voice: "We think he suffocated, my Lord. There- there were white flowers in his mouth and in the pool of blood surrounding him."

"White flowers you say?" The Dark Lord's lips curled in amusement. The yew wand slashed forward, cutting a deep gash through the dead boy's chest, breaking his ribcage, and exposing the organs laying underneath.

A single flower, its stem a healthy green, stood proudly from the mess of flesh and tissue. The white blossoms magically repelled the crimson dripping on it, not letting anything tarnish its natural and pure beauty.

He held out his hand and plucked the flower and its stem from the Snape boy's lungs, twirling it in his pale fingers after he caught it.

"Tell me, do you recognize this flower, Rodolphus?" A cold grin tucked on the Dark Lord's lips, threatening to burst into outright laughter.

"No- no, my Lord." The man panted.

"It is a Lily." Voldemort smiled: "But at the same time it's much more than just that; it's a message to me and it's also the first sign that my expectations of the young man who sent it had once again been topped."

"My- my Lord?" Rodolphus asked in bewilderment.

"Leave!" He ordered with a lazy wave of his hand: "Take the body with you and see that it is burned. Return to the boy's home and place the Imperius on his muggle father. Have him write a message to the muggle authorities, admitting to killing his own son in an outburst of rage and jealousy. Then have him commit suicide."

"Yes- yes, my Lord. At once!" Rodolphus staggered to his feet only to bow deeply and hurry back outside with his brother and Snape's body.

"And so the game begins." The Dark Lord spun the white flower through his finger.

Getting Peverell to this point had been much easier than anticipated. The boy's connection to the Evans mudblood had been for everyone to see in plain sight and thanks to a little bird sharing her address in a tweet, it was easy to carry out the attack right on Peverells birthday.

Of course, it had been irksome when Peverell himself showed up just by chance just after the Dark Lord had sent Rosier to take the mudblood and kill her parents. Lily Evans still lived and was probably under the very same protections that stopped his forces from locating anyone else close to Peverell, like his little blonde girlfriend, Marlene McKinnon, or the Potters and the Blacks.

Still, the mudblood's parents' death had produced the desired result already if Peverell sought out Snape in his thirst for revenge. The loss of the boy was unfortunate, yet in the grand scheme of things, a sacrifice well worth it.

"It will only make you stronger in the end, Harry." Voldemort allowed a crimson snake of cursed flames to twist upwards around the stem of the lily, biting through the blossoms until the flowers crumbled to ash: "When there's nothing and no one left, there is only power; only then can we reach our greatest potential."

August 15th, 1977

"Lord Potter, a word please!"

The man turned around slowly; a more cautious expression spread over his face when he saw Albus approach. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, Supreme Mugwump, so I'm afraid we will have to converse while heading back up to the atrium."

"That won't be a problem for me." Albus chuckled as he strode alongside the man through the hallway leading out of the Wizengamot courtroom and back towards the elevators: "And in fact, I'd like to approach you in my role as Headmaster."

"Is that so?" Charlus Potter stepped into the lift: "And what urgent matter may I help you with, Headmaster?"

"I have four letters with me- "Albus pulled out the envelopes from within his deep purple Wizengamot robes; two of the envelopes were significantly heavier and thicker than the other two: "And I'd like to hand them over to the recipients in person if you don't mind."

Charlus eyed the letters warily: "Since when does the Headmaster deliver letters on behalf of his school? And before you interrupt me, Dumbledore- " He quickly held up a hand: " -back when I received my Head boy's badge, it wasn't Dippet who gave it to me, it was an owl. Why should things be different for Harry?"

"Atrium!" Albus waited for the cool voice to announce their arrival before responding with a smile.

"The badge will not go to Mr. Peverell, but to your son, Lord Potter." Albus continued after allowing the surprised man to process what he shared: "He will be serving as Head Boy alongside Ms. Evans if they accept the position. Given the circumstances, I'd like to deliver this letter in person and also express my personal condolences to Ms. Evans for what happened to her."

"You want to make my prankster of a son Head Boy?" Charlus looked at him suspiciously before chuckling: "Harry must have denied you, hasn't he? Is this another one of your elaborate plans, Dumbledore?"

"No." Albus quickly shook his head: "This is simply me honoring two people who have truly deserved this badge and an attempt to bear some good nears in time that seems hopeless. All I wish to do is deliver the letter, you have my word, Lord Potter."

"Fine." Charlus sighed after studying him with sharp hazel eyes for a few seconds: "But the moment you try to snoop around, I will kick you out the front door, Dumbledore. That means no schemes!"

"Of course, of course." Albus bobbed his head, feeling delightful at being even allowed to accompany the Potter Lord back to his manor.

They turned to the nearest empty fireplace: "I assume you will have to share the location with me? Mr. Peverell is rather proficient with the Fidelius, it would be unpleasant to attempt to floo to your manor without being let in on the secret..."

Charlus chuckled after his eyes had twitched for only a split second: "Why would you assume that I let a sixth year ward my Manor or that Harry is even capable of something like that?"

"Because Mr. Peverell has demonstrated his talent with the charm at Hogwarts already, hiding multiple rooms from right under my nose." Albus smiled triumphantly at having caught the Potter Lord off guard: "You should ask him about it some time. Perhaps he will let you in on the story."

The man grimaced: "You're already starting to annoy me, Dumbledore, and we haven't even entered my Manor yet. I suggest you keep that crooked nose of yours out of Harry's business."

"I apologize." Albus inclined his head: "I'm merely concerned for the wellbeing of my students:"

"I'm sure you are." Rolling his eyes, Charlus grabbed a handful of floo powder and took a step closer. Realizing what he was attempting, Albus leaned in and allowed the man to whisper into his ear.

"Potter Manor is located five miles north of Godric's Hollow." The man stepped back and threw the powder into the flames: "You may follow in a minute to allow me to adjust the wards to you."

"Thank you." Albus nodded his understanding, humming a little tune while he watched the Potter Lord vanish in a roar of bright green flames.

When the time had passed, he confidently stepped in as well and followed the man, reappearing in a familiar well-decorated drawing-room.

"It looks just as I remember when your father William showed me around." Albus smiled, brushing off some dust from his robes: "So many years have passed since then..."

"Yes..." Charlus gritted his teeth: "I also remember father kicking you out after you tried to sneak into our library; you should know that I will not hesitate to do the same."

"I assure you there won't be any need for that." Albus chuckled at the memory.

Charlus led out a deep breath: "I have called them to the kitchen. Follow me and don't touch anything."

Indeed, the rest of the Potter family and their permanent guests for the summer were seated around the large table. With the exception of the Potter heir and Lily Evans, the remaining pairs of eyes watched him cautiously.

"Hello everybody." Albus gave a small wave: "I won't waste much of your time. I'm thankful for Lord Potter to allow me to deliver a few envelopes in person, however, first, I must share my deepest condolences."

He turned to the mane of auburn hair and the only freckle covered face at the table. Lily Evan's eyes, which usually beamed with joy, seemed to have lost some of their permanent emerald green sparkles: "I myself have lost my father and shortly after my mother and sister when I was your age, Ms. Evans. I can very well imagine what you're feeling right now and I'm truly sorry. If there's anything the school can do for you, please do not hesitate to reach out."

"Thank you, Headmaster." The redhead attempted a small smile.

Dumbledore continued, carefully watching the responses to his next statement, especially those of Peverell and McKinnon: "In fact, in response to the terrible attack on you and your parents and the equally as concerning circumstances that led to Mr. Severus Snape's tragic death, I'm currently making plans to increase the security of students living in muggle neighborhoods, to give them an easy way to communicate with wizarding authorities in emergencies."

To his immense surprise, his proposal was not met with the reaction he expected. In fact, James Potter shot up from his chair: "How dare you compare the death of that sniveling coward to that of Lily's parents! How dare you even- "

"James, that's enough!" Dorea Potter interfered, gray eyes narrowed dangerously with a hand placed on her son's, tugging him back down into his seat.

"I- I apologize should I have offended you, Ms. Evans." Dumbledore hesitated: "From what the Aurors gathered so far, young Severus had a confrontation with his father. To be completely honest, I was also led to believe that the two of you have been friends until recently..."

"I will mourn the death of my first friend and the person that introduced me to the Wizarding World, but not the man he became." Lily Evans' emerald green eyes flashed dangerously, strengthening the resemblance to the orbs of Peverell: "I have never shared my address with anyone at school, Headmaster, not even with my closest friend Mary from Gryffindor."

"Only Severus knew where I lived, because of the nearby park we grew up in together... Do you not think it's rather suspicious how Severus disappears without any trace a few days after the Death Eaters had carried out an attack on my family and failed to capture me?"

Albus frowned. He had known that the boy started spending more and more time in some of the more problematic circles within Slytherin after his fallout with Ms. Evans: "I'm sorry, my dear, but I do not wish to assume or speak ill of the dead- "

"Well, the only other option is that the school gave out her address." James Potter spoke up again heatedly: "Do you find that more plausible, Headmaster?"

Albus remained silent for a few seconds: "I apologize again should I have offended you; I did not come to do so or cause any additional harm. I merely came to express my condolences and deliver these in person, hoping to spark a flicker of hope into a period of mourning."

He pulled out the two thick envelopes once more and handed them to James and Lily: "The decision has been made a few months ago with all professors agreeing that the two of you would make the best possible pairing out of the available candidates. Congratulations, Ms. Evans and Mr. Potter. If you so accept, you shall be the Head Girl and Boy of the 1977 / 78 school year at Hogwarts."

The surprise was evident on their faces as they opened the envelopes, each holding the golden badge between their fingers. Albus carefully studied the reaction of the other members of the table. Charlus, despite already knowing about it, seemed rather proud of his son's achievement and clapped him smartly on the shoulder.

After eliciting a small cheer, Dorea took first Lily and then her own son into a hug, offering enthusiastic congratulations as well. Peverell and McKinnon smiled pleasantly, each standing up from their spots to walk over and congratulate. Nevertheless, they also seemed to have expected so, which wasn't too surprising as they had both refused the position themselves.

James was the first to recover and address him: "Ignoring the fact that you must be playing the giddy goat to entrust me with this, Professor, it certainly doesn't feel like I deserve this honor. I'm also not too sure if I even want this right now. With recent attacks like the one on Lily, it seems like I could use my time differently in my last year."

"James, no..." Albus watched as Lily seized her boyfriend's hand and gave him a knowing look: "You deserve this more than anyone for how much you have matured..." She leaned in and began whispering to him while brushing her fingers over his palm again and again.

Finally James gave a nod. "Very well, I accept."

"And so do I." Lily smiled, giving her boyfriend a small peck on the cheek: "We feel honored that you and the Professors have chosen us and will carry out our duties with conscientiousness."

" -all the while playing the occasional prank- " James chimed in, earning himself a sharp elbow from the redhead and a slap over the head from his mother.

"Very well then." Albus beamed: "I'm glad you accepted; you will find all other details in a separate letter that Minerva addressed to each of you." Standing up, he searched for the remaining two envelopes within his robes, but accidentally brushed them off his lap while doing so.

"Apologies, I completely forgot- " Albus made to bend down to the floor when Ms. McKinnon reacted quicker.

"Don't trouble yourself, professor." She flicked her wand from where it was attached to her dress and silently summoned the two letters, passing the one addressed to Peverell over to her boyfriend.

"Thank you, my dear. And an excellent demonstration of the summoning charm. Filius would be very proud." Albus beamed: "Well then, I shall take my leave."

"Allow me to accompany you back to the fireplace." Charlus got up and gestured for Albus to follow him.

The Headmaster soon vanished in a roar of green flames, stepping out in the Leaky Cauldron, where he was greeted by Tom: "The usual, Albus?"

"Not today, thank you, Tom." Albus shook his head: "I'm only passing through for some Hogwarts business with Gringotts. Unfortunately, the goblins wish to lower the interest rate on the fund that provides gold to students who can't afford the tuition..."

"Best of luck negotiating with them." Tom chuckled and continued filling some glasses with butterbeer.

Albus stepped into the back of the pub and tapped the necessary sequence on the wall to allow him to pass through into Diagon Alley.

With the Wizengamot session being held early in the morning and his business with the Potters concluded rather quickly, noon had not passed yet and the shopping district wasn't too crowded. Of course, that was partly because most students haven't received their letters yet.

The Headmaster walked past Flourish and Blott's and a few other shops, greeting the occasional pedestrian he was familiar with until he passed Ollivander's.

"Good morning, Garrick." Albus smiled as he saw the man standing on a ladder, mending the golden letters on top of his shop: "I see the time has come once again?"

"You know how it is, Albus..." The wandmaker smiled as he stepped back down, glassy gray eyes roamed over the headmaster: "Once in a decade, I either repair the letters or risk having them fall off. My forefathers would never forgive me if I was the Ollivander who brought shame to this fine establishment."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind too much." Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly.

"What brings you to Diagon Alley, old friend?" Garrick's eyes flickered to his sleeve before focusing back on him: "I hope there is nothing wrong with the wand my father crafted for you all those years ago?"

"Oh no." Dumbledore flicked it into his palm, and examined it between his long fingers: "It still works perfectly fine."

"So you're using it again then?" Garrick smiled, flashing crooked teeth: "I haven't seen you wield that wand for over 30 years; not since you encountered a better fit than my family's work..."

"As my young students keep reminding me: 'Times change', my old friend." Albus chortled and turned to leave: "Perhaps we can have a chat after my business with Gringotts is concluded."

"Perhaps we should." Garrick nodded slowly: "For times seem to change, and yet the new owner of your former companion is just as secretive and cautious about it as you were whenever I asked you about your wand..."

'Peverell.'

"Is that so?" Albus sent a quick glimpse over his shoulder, ensuring that no one overheard them: "I take it, here was here then?"

"Yes, very recently actually... barely four weeks ago." Garrick grinned: "He was so protective of his wand that he didn't even let me have a look at it. However, I confirmed it was indeed made of elder, just as I always theorized... You wouldn't happen to know what the core is made of, would you, Albus?"

"May I instead inquire as to what service he asked of you?" Albus tried to shift the conversation in a different direction.

"Oh, he wanted nothing for himself but for the lovely young Lady that accompanied him that day." Garrick grinned.

"Ms. McKinnon then." Albus frowned, his mind already racing with different theories: "I wasn't aware she had any issues with her wand. Her work in her classes has been flawless this past year, as my staff keep telling me."

"And still, she came to me, asking for my services..." Garrick nodded: "But it wasn't the wand that worried me, Albus. You know I take much pride in my creations and the wand I sold her six years ago is as good as any you will find in my shop."

"What was it then?"

"She told me of the recent difficulties she encountered whenever she cast more significant, powerful, and demanding pieces of magic." Garrick's eyes widened in excitement: "The wand that had once been a perfect match for her, struggles to adjust to some of the changes she underwent recently. Changes that occurred ever since she got close to the young man that accompanied her to my shop that day."

"But what kind of changes could lead to the bond between wand and wielder to lessen in strength?" Albus hummed.

"We both know that those changes won't be natural, Albus." Garrick chuckled: "I grew quite concerned learning what field of magic your students meddle in, to experience such side effects."

"I'd like to see you try and keep that particular couple from achieving anything they set their mind on." Albus sighed: "I might be the Headmaster, but even my resources are limited. Wizards like Harry Peverell know exactly how to avoid my ways of tracking them and he has taught his girlfriend very well."

"I'm assuming you managed to fix her issue then?" Albus asked after a few seconds of silence passed: "Coincidentally I just watched her perform some magic with her wand and I didn't see any struggle at all."

"Actually, I refused my services, for the only way to fix such an issue between wand and wielder is by utilizing some techniques our Ministry isn't very fond of." Garrick shook his head: "But to come back to what you witnessed; I doubt it's of high importance. The pieces of magic she and I are referring to, those when her wand might struggle to perform, are not any you will see on an everyday basis."

"Would it be possible for her to find help somewhere else?"

"Perhaps, there are other wand crafters in Britain, though none come close to me in either reputation or skill." Ollivander shared with a touch of pride: "Do you mind describing her wand for me?"

"Medium length, perhaps 12 to 13 inches. A bit lighter in color; holly or hawthorn." Albus pictured the wand Ms. McKinnon had summoned the two envelopes with: "Something like a silvery string wraps itself like a spiral around the handle, all the way to the middle of the shaft. If I had to guess, it's the unicorn hair she uses as a core."

"No, old friend, my creation certainly didn't carry those features. It's just as I assumed then." Garrick's eyes beamed up in triumph: "She has received help from a different wandmaker."

"Then the only question is whether all her previous issues have been successfully fixed." Albus hummed: "But as interesting as the matter is, I should probably continue with my business. The goblins are not known for their patience."

"I gave them a warning, Albus." Garrick took a step back into his shop: "I told them that some aspect of magic shouldn't be meddled in. Perhaps you'd do good to repeat that warning..."

"Trust me, I already did, my friend."

"Very well. I don't know how that wand of elder came into your possession, Albus, and suddenly accepts Peverell as its master so soon after his arrival." Garrick said; the fanatic beam had returned to his gray eyes: "However, I've worked with wands all my life and I can tell a weak bond from a strong one. Old friend, I'm telling you that I've never felt a bond like that before, despite him not even exposing the wood to me. It was simply fantastical. I'm sure we can expect great things from young Harry Peverell."

"I think you're right, Garrick." Dumbledore reluctantly agreed: "But if history has taught us one thing, it's that great and terrible often go hand in hand."