Harry Potter, Pre-Series

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
November 1st, 1981: Surrey England: Nightly news:
“Enough about strange owl behavior, how’s the weather coming up Ted?”
“Well, all I’ve got to say is expect cold rain tonight……”

For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
After midnight, number four, Private Drive, Little Whinging: A strange and colorful old man puts out the streetlights and awaits someone with another strangely dressed woman, this one not so colorful.
A giant of a man flies down on an old motorcycle and all three leave an infant in a basket at the doorstep of number four. No attempt to awaken the house, no attempt beyond a light blanket to keep the babe warm on this November night. Just a parchment envelope tucked into the babe’s blanket, and they’re gone.

For want of a horse the rider was lost.
After the strange people left, making sure the signs they had been there were gone, it began to lightly rain before turning into a torrent of cold, freezing rain.
The babe had no chance, he died in his enchanted sleep of hypothermia.

For want of a rider the message was lost.
With the babe’s death in the freezing downpour, the parchment envelope and the message within, dissolved in the rain. Leaving behind a mash.

For want of a message the battle was lost.
With the babe’s death, the soul in his wound was released to go and merge with the main soul. Strengthening it. And leading it to a hidden follower to regain a body and continue the war. Now hidden.

For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
The Nazi’s called it Blitzkrieg, the world called it disaster.

And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Fini.