It had been three years since Christopher was born. He was a happy and healthy child, surrounded by love and affection. He could talk fairly well for his age and was always running around, getting into mischief. His parents were fortunate enough that they didn't need to work, so the family mainly stayed in the house or went on outings to the park. Their neighbors loved them a quiet, well off family living in a quaint suburb of large brick houses and well-manicured gardens.
The only time the family seemed stressed was when they read the newspaper. Now, that was something to see. The Daily Prophet had moving pictures and spoke of an evil wizard. It listed the crimes he and his followers committed and how the government was trying to stop him. Of course, young Christopher had no idea what any of this meant; he only knew his mom and dad looked terrified when they read it.
Elsewhere...
"Tell me about this legend, Lucius," Voldemort said in an unamused tone.
"My Lord... there have always been rumors of a bloodline much older than the Sacred Twenty Eight. One that carries true nobility the bloodline of Merlin himself. It was rumored he had a child and went to great lengths to hide them away, the secret shielded by a trusted few. Most knew Merlin by his first name, though he had several depending on the region. It was recorded in the Book of Admittance as 'Merlin Wyllt' from his time at Hogwarts."
Lucius paused, playing to the drama of the moment. "However, while looking into myths to aid you against your enemies, we found a letter. It is almost fifteen hundred years old, written to a woman about their child. It described his affection for both and how he longed to see them, but it was unsafe. At the end, the letter was signed M. Ambrosia. Most notably, the letter was sealed with a wax crest of a White Dragon. And if you believe the legends, Merlin slayed a legendary and wise White Dragon."
Voldemort stared at him for a moment. "Where is this letter now?"
"Here, my Lord!" Lucius said, bowing as he handed it over. "Furthermore, there is a family here in England now with that very last name. They are the only family in all of Britain with that name, my Lord. They have a three-year-old son. They arrived from America three years ago, apparently for the birth of their child."
"Do we know where they are?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrow.
"Yes, my Lord. They are located in a Muggle suburb in Glastonbury. The house is heavily warded, but they appear to be living as Muggles."
"If this is true, then you have done very well, Lucius. Very well indeed," Voldemort said with a prideful sneer. "With Merlin's bloodline supporting me, I will have all the legitimacy I need to declare myself King. Go to the area and watch them. Then, we will pay them a visit. I will give them the opportunity to willingly serve me."
Glastonbury...
It was late June when Christopher heard his mom and dad arguing. He didn't understand the words, but they seemed very afraid. They were talking about going back to "America." Henry was adamant they had to stay in England until Christopher had his first bout of accidental magic to tie him to his heritage. Anna countered that it wasn't safe anymore that the Dark Lord knew they were there. Christopher was too young to grasp the danger, but he was smart. Dilly eventually saw him watching and took him by the hand to go play.
A few days passed, and the atmosphere in the home shifted. His dad stayed by the windows, always looking outside and writing frantically in an old leather book. His mom was always watching him, her eyes tracing his features as if trying to etch every bit of Christopher into her mind. She would walk around the house, waving a pretty stick at the walls while whispering. Dilly, his ever-present watcher, stayed nearby, making a toy plane fly while a stuffed teddy bear tried to jump and swipe it down.
Christopher was blissfully unaware of the hell about to appear at his doorstep.
It was 6:00 PM when the first snap echoed through the street. It was loud, like a car backfiring or a gunshot. Then, one after another, they rang out totaling nearly fifty in all. Henry stood up and ran to the window. He turned deathly pale as a final, much quieter pop was heard.
Anna stood up and hugged Christopher tightly, telling him how much she loved him and that everything would be okay. She called for the house elf. "Dilly, come here."
Dilly appeared instantly.
"It is time, Dilly. They've come, just as we feared. You must take Christopher somewhere safe. We cannot know where; they will eventually find out no matter how hard we resist," Anna said, tears blurring her vision.
Henry walked over and handed Christopher his journal. He scooped the boy into his arms for one last, crushing hug. "My son, you and your mother are the best things that ever happened to me. There is so much I wish I could have told you. Just remember who you are and where you came from. Know that we will always watch over you. I have written everything in this book, and when you are ready, all will be revealed."
Anna handed him a small photo album. Christopher, finally sensing the terror, started to cry. "Mommy, what's wrong?"
"You're too young to understand now, my love. Just know that we love you, and that you need to be brave. The world is full of those who only know how to hurt and take. You need to be strong to stand up to them," Anna said, her voice cracking as she handed Christopher to Dilly. "Dilly, you have always been a member of this family. Please, take care of our boy. We will try to meet you at the safe place... but if we don't show, you know what to do. Now, go!"
Dilly took Christopher's hand, and with a final, sharp crack, they disappeared.