My only love sprung from my only hate!

Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

That I must love a loathed enemy.

- William Shakespeare, Act I, Scene V, Romeo and Juliet


The very bright home of Harry James Potter was illuminated ahead of the cobble-stoned path, like a beacon of pure, white hope, glowing in the distance. But she had expected nothing less than that from the Boy-Who-Lived. The child, whose heartache would have destroyed a lesser man And now that man who lived at home, nineteen years after the Dark Lord's defeat, with his wife and three children.

It seemed such a happy place, and it probably was this Christmas. The outline of laughing forms echoed through the windows as she trudged through the snow and towards the front door. The wide window, displayed with thick, burgundy curtains that were styled in an elegant grace, held images of a very large gathering.

It was now or never, she told herself. With those words in mind, she drew herself up to her full, un-impressing height and knocked. The golden lion knockers fell upon the mahogany wood once more before the air sounded empty again. For a moment, she considered running away, but her bones were old now. She couldn't exactly run as far as she'd once been able to.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door and it pulled open to reveal a small middle-aged woman with long flaming red hair, the woman who she knew as Ginny Weasley. The Lady of the house. Or perhaps that was too old of a phrase.

"Hello?" Ginny asked kindly, her light eyes straining to see into the darkness of the night.

The woman stepped into the shadow of firelight that was flooding from the foyer. "Hello," she said, letting a half smile grace her lips. "I'm here to see Harry Potter. I promise it won't be long."

Ginny looked skeptical, her auburn eyebrows shooting up into the air in obvious irritation. A small part of her, a very small part of her felt slightly guilty for ruining their cheerful Christmas, but it was all for "the greater good".

"Gin!" A deep voice echoed throughout the halls. "Ginny?" The man who she could have guessed was Harry Potter, filled the doorway. His untidy black hair fell in a mop around his spectacles, covering his lightning bolt-shaped scar given to him by Lord Voldemort.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," she said, the half-grin returning again. "I don't mean to intrude on your Christmas, but I have to speak with you. It's rather important, and I'm afraid it cannot wait."

The sentence had hung in the air for a few moments before he waved her inside, carefully watching her as she gracefully hobbled towards the drawing room Ginny had suggested she take a seat in.

A raucous burst of laughter echoed from the living room and a man with bright orange hair, that seemed to be thinning just a bit came through, his laughter still lighting up his face.

"Oh! Sorry, Harry. Didn't quite see you there…" His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the cloaked woman standing the foyer. His eyes widened and he struggled to regain his composure, suddenly feeling very off-balance.

She seemed to exude the feeling of calamity everywhere she went these days. It was a talent of hers, to make people uncomfortable. Now, anyways. She had spent the last seventeen years, her only seventeen years with her uncle. But that hadn't made up for the fact that Lord Voldemort had murdered her father, nineteen years previous. And the rest of her family.

The drawing room was a large space, a few desks scattered with random papers and ink and a quill. There were even a few portraits, the wizards moving and laughing exuberantly, their bright smiles lighting up the room.

Harry gestured for her to sit in the comfy chintz armchair that looked as if it belonged in a certain Hogwarts common room. For the third time that night, a half smile split across her face. But this time, unlike the two others, it was tainted with a sadness that couldn't be explained in a few short hours.

There was another man in the room, his forlorn figure was hunched over in the corner desk and he was scribbling furiously on an already long letter. "George," Harry greeted, his voice a little darker now.

"Harry," George replied, running a hand through his fading red hair. The last nineteen years had taken a lot out of George. With the death of his twin his life had taken on a desolate existence. But it had gotten better over the years, he had married and named his first son Fred in remembrance of his brother, but there was still that part of him that ached deeply.

And that was precisely why she was here. To make everything better by getting her revenge. "You said you had a proposition?" Harry said finally, taking a seat on the chair across from her. His green eyes sparkled in a familiar way.

"I do." She nodded, slipping off the hood of her cloak. The oddly dark color of her hair, fell around her shoulders. She saw his eyes widen in shock as he took in her appearance. And what an appearance it was. "I…" she didn't know how to begin. There was just too much to say to him, just too much to get out.

"My name is Marie Adamms," she said, finally beginning. George made to stand up, but she waves him back in his seat, impatiently. "This concerns more than just you, Mr. Potter." She took another deep breath and began again. "My name is Marie Adamms. And I want to change the past."

A/N: If this is actually posted, then I made it through the first chapter. And someone actually read the Prologue. Which in the world of Harry Potter Fanfiction is a shock.

This story has twists… lots of them.