Broken Masks

Chapter 1 - the beginning

I guess I should start my story at the beginning. For the sake of history, I have gone to various sources including but not limited to Dumbledore, my brothers, several of the Hogwarts staff members, family friends, my father, and my mother's own pensieve and diary. I hope that you find this helpful, for if you don't know the beginning, then you shall never know the end.

My parents met at the age of eleven on the train to their school. From the stories I've heard, they became quick friends and even quicker lovers. At the age of sixteen, my father was recruited by Dumbledore himself to fight against one of the most fearsome wizards in history, thus starting a Weasley tradition. My mother, to in love to care about her own safety, secretly joined the Order of the Phoenix. It was there that she got the idea of the clock that kept track of family and not time. My mother finished her sixth year of school and moved in with my father's family that summer. He proposed to her and they were married before their seventeenth birthdays. They each finished their time at Hogwarts and my mother was soon pregnant with Bill. My father took a confidential position for the protection of muggles, all the while covering it up as a job in the misuse of muggle artifacts office.

Bill was born into a chaotic world; none of my grandparents lived to meet him. A year later Charlie was born into an even worse environment, where one could not even go out onto the street unless you followed the dark lord. Next came Percy and the twins, Fred and George, with little change to civilization. Then my brother Ron was brought into the world, followed shortly by Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. It was Christmas eve when my mom went into labour with me and Christmas day when my father cut the umbilical cord. I was called little Christ by my older three brothers.

But my birth was not something holy, in fact only minutes after my first cry, we were visited by Voldemort himself. I still remember dropping into my mother's memory once when I was ten. Just after I first saw Harry Potter actually. I was there in my father's arms. My mother was exhausted and glowing with pride over her little girl. My brothers had wandered into the room and the mid wife was cleaning something. It was snowing but my mother had wanted the window open so she could send out owls to her family. It was Charlie who noticed the green mark first, Charlie who saw him. He was ugly and disfigured, and I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

The midwife screamed but he dealt with her. Charlie on the other hand, stared taking in every feature, every mark. He moved to my mother, caressed her face. Bill held my father back, he wanted to kill the dark lord. I could see it. Voldemort took me from my father. He held me and rocked me a little before hissing, "She's mine." That was how my life began its spiral into the dark arts. Of course only eight months later a one year old Harry sent Voldemort into hiding.