The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

And the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not…

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

- Prophecy made to Albus Dumbledore by Sybill Trelawney

"di•verge | di'vərj; dī- |

verb [intrans.]

1 (of a road, route, or line) separate from another route, esp. a main one, and go in a different direction.

• develop in a different direction

• (of an poinion, theory, approach, etc.) differ markedly

• deviate from a set course or standard"

- Definition of "diverge"

"It's a girl," the midwife said. With a swish of her wand the blood that covered the newborn girl was cleaned away. She was then wrapped in a soft blanket and handed to her mother.

"Hello," said Lily to her daughter.

"Hi there little one," said James, leaning down and pointing at her chest. She reached out and softly grabbed his finger.

The new parents smiled.

"Have you picked out a name?" asked the midwife to the Potters.

Lily looked at her daughter, then to her husband, and finally to the midwife, "Yes. Her name is Rose."

Lily ran down the hall, clutching her daughter to her chest. She could hear the battle between her husband and the Dark Lord behind her, but she did not slow, could not slow. He wanted her daughter, he wanted Rose.

Suddenly the hallway was illuminated with a bright green light, and then the only sound Lily could hear was Rose's crying and the panting of her own breath as she ran.

"Come now," the Dark Lord hissed, "Just give me the girl. Your husband didn't have to die tonight, and neither do you."

Lily dived through the doorway, rolling as she hit the floor to protect her daughter, and with a flick of her wand, the door closed and locked behind her.

"Surely you don't think a simple door could stop me?" the Dark Lord gloated, as the door glowed a bright red and then exploded into the bedroom.

Lily sat in the corner of the room, her left arm cradling her daughter, her right extended towards the Dark Lord, "Not Rose, please, don't kill her. Take me, kill me instead."

The Dark Lord shook his head slowly, his yew wand held loosely in his left hand, "This is my last warning."

Lily clutched Rose to her chest, "Not Rose! Please… have mercy… Not Rose! Please" she pleaded, tears in her eyes, "I'll do anything."

The Dark Lord smiled thinly, gripped his wand tightly, and with a baleful glare, "Avada Kedavra!" Lily Potter dropped her wand, and slumped over her daughter, dead.

The Dark Lord, his thin smile growing, adjusted his wand's aim.

The rising wail of a young girl crying was cut off as the house around her exploded.

Professor McGonall asked Headmaster Dumbledore, "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why we're, of all places, Albus?"

"I've come to bring young Rose to her Aunt and Uncle. They're the only family she's got left," said Albus Dumbledore.

"You can't seriously mean that?" Minerva McGonagall asked the Headmaster of Hogwarts School if Witchcraft and Wizardry. She gestured at the two-story house she'd been watching all day in her animagus form, "Albus, you can't. I've been watching them, and you can't find a pair of people who are as unlike us as possible. They've got this little boy, a little monster. He was kicking his mother all the way down the street to the park, screaming for candy. Surely little Rose Potter can't live here?" She sighed as she read the impassive face of her colleague.

"It's the best place for her," said Albus calmly. "Her aunt and uncle, they'll explain everything to her when she gets older." He took a letter, sealed with wax, from inside of his cloak, "I've written a letter."

"A letter?" asked McGonagall incredulously. "Really Albus, you think you explain everything, all of this in a letter? Those people," she gestured at the unremarkable house, "they'll never understand her! She'll be famous, is famous. It wouldn't surprise me that, someday, today would be known as Rose Potter Day! They'll be books written about her, stories told, she'll be a legend before she gets to Hogwarts. Every child will know her name."

Albus nodded and breathed deeply, "Exactly. It would be enough to inflate a young girl's head. Famous before she could walk or talk, for something she'd not even remember! No," he said, shaking his head. "'Tis a far better thing that she grow up here, live a normal life, or as normal as she can, until she's ready for all the fame and attention."

McGonagall opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then closed it. Then opened it a second time, closed it again. On the third attempt, she finally said something with a sigh, "Yes, yes, of course, you're right. But how is she getting here?" McGonagall eyed the old wizard's cloak as if there was a chance he was hiding a fifteen month old baby girl under it.

"Hagrid's bringing her," said Dumbledore proudly.

McGonagall looked surprised in the dim light of the street, "You think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I'd trust Hagrid with my life," the Headmaster said resolutely.

The glass tumbler lived up to it's name before hitting the wall and shattering into hundreds of pieces, "I don't want that freak in my house!" Vernon Dursley huffed as he picked up another glass from the kitchen counter.

Petunia Dursley did not flinch as the second glass hit the wall, inches closer than the first, and a mere hand's breadth from her head, "She's staying. We're the only family she has."

"And what happened to that family? What happened to your sister and her good for nothing husband?" asked Vernon.

"They're dead," said Petunia flatly. They'd both read the letter than had come with their niece that morning. They'd both read about what had happened to Lily, and what had happened to the house around little Rose, who looked almost exactly like her mother, save her father's dark brown eyes. That resemblance is what had turned Petunia from her former loathing of everything related to her sister. She had remembered the look on Lily's face when the letter had come, how she'd asked her sister why Lily could have magic and she couldn't. The feeling of betrayal, of envy. Well, now she'd been given a second chance, a second chance to do the right thing, to not push Rose away like she'd done to Lily. "They died saving Rose, and you read what Dumbledore wrote, that Rose survived whatever killed them."

"I don't know why she couldn't have died with them," spat Vernon. "They did the world a favor by dieing, why couldn't they have done one more by taking their little spawn with them?"

Petunia grew even colder. She loved her husband, knew that they'd have a family, already they had little Dudley, and that they'd grow old together. She hadn't counted on Rose. "What'd you have done with her? Left back out in the cold to freeze to death? Sent to an orphanage? What?"

"Anything!" shouted Vernon. "Anywhere but here! I'll not have a freak like that living under my roof."

"Okay, if that's what you want," began Petunia, stepping towards her husband. He smiled in victory, before frowning as he read his wife's expression. "Then she'll not be under your roof, and neither will I. Nor your precious Dudley either. If she goes, so do I, and if I go, so does your son. So, what'll it be?"

Vernon looked into his wife's eyes as she stopped right in front of him.

"Package deal Vernon, you either accept your niece as a member of this family, or you spend the rest of your life alone."