A/N: About time, huh? I know, guys, you all hate me for making you wait so long. And for whoever's new to this story, I'm admitting it straight out, I'm not consistent. But I promise the updates are good. And worth waiting for. Or at least that's what I'm told. So here we go—It all Happens for a Reason. Take two. Remember, this is short because it's only the prologue. I promise it'll get longer as it goes on.

Prologue. Where it all began…

The quill shivered and poised itself over a considerably long list of names. It scrawled, in elegant writing, a few names.

Lily Evans

Here it paused again and dipped itself in its inkwell before writing again.

Marlene McKinnon

James Potter

Once again, it reloaded before writing once more.

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Peter Pettigrew

The process continued for an entire year until Minerva McGonagall had at last looked over the list of names. Frank Longbottom, Emmeline Vance, Dorcas Meadowes, Mary MacDonald and Alice Thompkins had all been added over the course of time.

"You have the list of first years, then, Minerva?" An old man asked cheerily as he peered over his half-moon glasses. She nodded wordlessly and passed the parchment over to him. "Ah. A good bunch I see."

The Deputy Headmistress didn't question the old man. He had a talent for knowing things like this. To her, they were still young children. A fair few of them probably didn't even know the world that they belonged to rightfully even existed yet. But to the old man in front of her, they were a 'good bunch'. Sure. "I'll get started on the letters then," she told him and he nodded smartly before they parted ways.


Lily looked down at the cream colored envelope in her hands. She'd reread the slanted writing that was unrecognizable to her eyes three times and was currently trying to stare down the seal on the back of The one of a boar, badger, eagle and lion all surrounding the letter 'H'.

She even thought, as she ran to get the post that morning, that she glimpsed the faint outline of an owl swooping away. Perhaps it was a different bird, it was still early in the morning. She didn't know. But she hoped. It was something that he told her about, right? Owls. Yes, definitely something that he told her about.

Carefully she pulled open the letter's envelope and pulled out the parchment itself. All it took was one look at the first sentence and she half-smiled to herself.

He was right.

She turned her eyes to her window, which faced the direction of Spinner's End. He was probably reading his letter as well, if it had come already.


Miles away from both of them, a boy with messy, jet black hair casually tossed his letter aside. As if there was any doubt, he thought. As if I could possibly be a Squib. I think I'd kill myself.

He hopped off the great, leather couch and meandered into the sitting room, picking up the acceptance letter on his way to his father, who was reading The Daily Prophet with only a slight interest. He tossed the letter at him and it had almost landed in his father's coffee mug. Andrew Potter scanned the letter.

"That's wonderful, James!" His father grinned proudly at his son. James rolled his hazel eyes.

"You thought that I was a Squib?" James asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Not at all with the way you purposely charmed your mother's hair to be blue," Andrew answered, half-amused, half-reprimanding. James grinned.

"That was a good day."

"Not for me, I had to listen to it," Andrew mumbled and ruffled his son's messy hair. "We're gonna have to go to Diagon soon, I expect, to get these supplies."

"I suppose. That can wait, though. Wonder if Marlene got her letter."

"I sincerely doubt that she's a Squib, James." Andrew said going back to The Prophet once more.

"Wasn't saying that she was one. She set those bloody birds on me that day I turned eight, remember?" James rolled up his sleeve revealing a few tiny scars. "Don't mess with McKinnon," he advised his father.

"I'll keep that in mind. Now come on. Go get your cloak. We'll stop at Diagon to grab these. I'll tell your mother—she'll want to come, I expect. Honey," he called up the grand spiral staircase.

"Yes?" The muffled voice of Maria Potter returned.

"Hogwarts shopping, Mum." James yelled.

Maria bounded down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the house-elf called Tippet who squeaked and Disapparated just in time to avoid a nasty collision.

"You got your letter? Oh Jamesy, that's wonderful!" She engulfed her son in a suffocating hug. He tried to rip himself away when he heard a familiar voice coming from the fireplace.

"Andrew! Maria! James!" it called out. Maria let James go and went to the fireplace. A friendly woman's head was sticking out of the flames.

"Athena, did Marlene get her letter?" Maria greeted her longtime friend with a delightful squeal. James rolled his eyes. Girls.

Athena McKinnon nodded (as much as one could anyway when in a fireplace). "Ignatius is absolutely delighted. Another one off to Hogwarts!"

The McKinnons and the Potters were family friends, being both pureblood families, and all alumni of Gryffindor house. Their families ran in the same social circle; ever since James could remember, there was always Marlene around somewhere.

Which was nice because, he thought, who else was he going to beat at Quidditch?

While James was an only child, Marlene had an older brother, Charles. Charles would be entering his fourth year at Hogwarts. Marlene and Charles, in James' opinion, were the closest brother and sister he'd ever met.

"…And I heard that the little Black boy got one as well…" there was a note of distaste in Athena's voice as this was said. "Druella and Orion were probably so proud of him. Another one for Slytherin, I expect."

James was, as always, indifferent to the parental connections. Their social loop was too much to keep up with, in his opinion. He rolled his eyes and, knowing that the mothers were going to take a while, grabbed his broom and headed outside to practice on his Quidditch Pitch.


The Black boy did indeed get a letter. But Druella and Orion couldn't've been less proud of the affirmation that he was a wizard. He sat in his room, secluded from the rest of the family. The way he liked it. He flipped the letter over and over again, recapping what his parents had said.

"…He's not a Squib, thank Merlin. I think I'd be ashamed to pieces if he was. But the little prat would have at least had an excuse then for being…the way he is."

Sirius thought that this was the highest form of a compliment or praise that he was ever going to gain from his mother. Because his parents viewed him as scum of the earth, but at least he had enough pride to allow himself to be a wizard. Like he had any choice.

Sirius grinned and tossed the letter aside. If he did have a choice in the matter, he was tempted to give up his magic just to cause his parents as much pain as possible. The spite would be endless just from his very existence.

But then they'd disown him and, as hateful as Sirius was towards his parents, he had to confess that he did like his room.

Sirius walked downstairs, unwilling to cause any noise and wanting to be as inconspicuous as possible. He took the second page of the letter and gripped it tightly in his hand as he dug a fistful of floo powder out from the sack next to the fireplace. Stepping into the marble fireplace, he spoke the words "Diagon Alley" and was off in a whirlwind of green flame.


"Suppose you need some help?" Marlene McKinnon inquired of the completely fascinated red-haired girl, whose eyes had grown to be as large as plates trying to drink in as much as she could.

"Huh? Oh yes, please." The girl turned her magnified emerald eyes on Marlene. There as a genuine kindness that poured out of them, and Marlene knew instantly that she was going to like this girl.

"I'm Marlene McKinnon." Marlene felt a nudge—a punch more like it, but had grown accustomed to this type of "nudge"—and turned to glare at the boy next to her, purposely not introducing him.

The suave eleven year old boy took the unfamiliar girl's hand in his own and kissed it. "The name's James Potter."

The girl laughed and blushed while Marlene rolled her eyes. "You'll learn to get used to him," she threw James a look that clearly asked for an explanation for the sickeningly charming display. James answered her with innocent wide-eyes and a ruffle of his already windswept hair and Marlene shook her head, her brown hair falling into her eyes with a noticeable elegance.

The girl opposite them watched the two with a bemused smile playing across her face.

"Lily Evans. Pleased to meet you." She smiled brightly at the both of them. James was clearly happy with the attention Lily was giving him and Marlene smiled back.


He rounded the corner ready to surprise her. He was so happy that she was a witch as he'd expected. It was real. They were both in Diagon Alley. He sped up, wanting to spend more time with the red-haired girl who was standing in the middle of the Alley looking utterly lost.

But he was beaten. She was tapped on the shoulder by a very pretty dark-haired girl and an equally good looking boy with a mop of jet black hair. The boy's lips met her hand and his insides burned with dislike. He hid quickly behind a vender's cart and watched as she giggled and blushed at this charming 

boy's antics. He wanted to go and punch out that arrogant smile from the boy's face. It was as though he was purposely taunting him.

The boy ruffled his hair and his hand jumped to his own head. He didn't feel great, windswept, unruly hair. Greasy hair framed his sallow face. The girl beside this charming boy linked arms with Lily, his Lily, and bounded off with the charmer in tow. Lily's laugh echoed in his ears and seemed to be the only thing that he heard in the crowded street.


Petunia picked up the letter and read it several times. Tears were in her eyes that she hastily wiped away. She hated the world right now. Hated that Lily was a witch; hated that awful Snape boy for being right; hated him for telling her all about this wild, magical world that she would go to leaving the normal, obsolete one that Petunia was stuck in to fade in her memory in obscurity.

But most of all, she hated herself for not being like her little sister so that they could grow up being magical together. And then she hated herself for being resentful and jealous of the sister that had grown to be her best friend. She hated knowing that if the roles were reversed, Lily would be joyous and understanding and be nothing less than happy for Petunia.

She got up off her bed, where her pillow was stained with tears and the letter congratulating Lily and inviting her to Hogwarts lay. Petunia had refused to go school supply shopping with her proud family because she didn't want to admit that this was fully happening.

Dear—here she glanced down at her sister's letter—Albus Dumbledore...