Before you start reading this one, please take a moment to note:

THIS IS NOT A PLEASANT FIC.

It is not happy in any way. It is, in fact, partially based on a case from Cold Case Files on A&E. That should tell you right there why it's not a happy story.


Prophecy Bound
Chapter One

The Itch


When Harry Potter's acceptance letter for Hogwarts returned unopened the first time, no one thought too much of it. For those 'in the know', as it were, they assumed it was just another case of a muggle not realizing that the letter spoke the truth. The standard response to that was simply to send another letter on. The next day was the same. The day after that, as well. In fact, for a week and a half there was no change in this, no matter how many letters were sent out.

When the owls were told to wait for a response; that they were not allowed to leave until they got a definitive yes or no from the young Potter, something unusual happened.

Albus had simply been directing the owls to go to the Dursley household and drop the letter off with whoever was home and to await a response. When the birds had been shooed away, it was considered a response by them, and they had returned to Hogwarts still carrying their letters. This time, being directed to seek out Harry Potter, it was different.

The owls didn't leave.

Confused, Albus told them to go find Harry Potter. They still didn't leave.

For a moment, the Headmaster frowned in thought, considering what he knew of the Potter Bloodline, and the level and type of power Harry had within him. A jolly smile broke out on his face as he contemplated the possibility that Harry had accidentally transported himself to Hogwarts at some point, and had been living there ever since, hidden away from any prying eyes.

A thorough search of the entire castle through both mundane and magical means revealed that that had been something of a silly thought. Really, a boy only just eleven being able to apparate through Hogwarts' own wards? What had he been thinking? He really did need to lay off the fantasy novels! Those transporter beams may be able to transport people through outer space and through any sort of ward-shield, but they didn't really exist.

The Headmaster thought over this dilemma once again, and this time decided to send Hagrid on to the Dursley family.

The Half-Giant returned in a right fury-- apparently, the Dursleys had never even seen Harry Potter in the aftermath of Halloween 1981. The babe that had been left on the doorstep had vanished between when the wizards had left and when the Dursleys had awoken.

They'd also charged Hagrid for breaking down their door in his attempts to get in. They did not particularly enjoy being awoken in the middle of the night by an intruder, and that went doubly so for a /magical/ intruder. Albus simply patted Hagrid on the shoulder and made plans to make reparations. Given the Dursley's aversion to all things magical, he had to contact Arabella Figg in order to get information on muggle contractors to fix the damage done to the door.

This was when the alarm bells started ringing in his head; for when he explained to Arabella what had happened, she in turn reported that there /had/ been a second child at the Dursley household when she had moved in, but she'd only caught a glimpse of him from a distance. When he didn't show up again, she assumed that he was a friend that the Dursleys had arranged for Harry to have, and that the two boys had not gotten on.

She had mistaken Dudley Dursley for Harry Potter, not knowing that the boy that she could only watch from a distance-- Petunia and Vernon didn't want Dudley anywhere /near/ the crazy cat lady, and only partly because the boy was mildly allergic to cats-- was not the one she had been sent to watch over.

A sick feeling began to build in Albus' stomach, a worry that may have been ten years too late. Tamping down his worry and ill feelings, Albus asked Arabella to take a step back as he needed to investigate the Dursley household himself. Traveling through the floo, it came to Albus that he should get some 'back-up' as it were. A quick call to the ministry (and a "possible case of muggle abuse of a magical child") resulting in two Aurors coming through to act as his back-up. While this might have been a false alarm, Albus wasn't willing to take chances.

Not now. Not anymore.

The three of them-- the Aurors had introduced themselves, but Albus had been too busy worrying to listen-- walked up the street in their transfigured muggle clothing towards the Dursley household. Albus thought that the Auror's clothing was a bit bland, but then, he didn't realize that they were wearing the uniform of London's Police Inspectors. He, himself, was dressed in a charming orange and purple business suit that would have fit into the nineteen twenties if not for the colours.

Vernon was the one to answer the door, and he would have mouthed off to Albus and his obviously freakish nature, if it hadn't been for the two officers who stood between them. "Can I help you, Inspectors?"

The smaller of the two, whose presence had seemed incidental on the walk over, suddenly seemed to be the largest and most powerful man that Vernon had ever met. Sharp brown eyes were cold and completely focused, "I am Inspector Writewind and this is Inspector Calden. This is Professor Dumbledore, and he has brought some... information to our attention. If we may come in?"

Vernon swallowed a bit. Dumbledore was a name that his wife had warned him about, but he couldn't just throw out two Inspectors! As much as he wished to deny them entry, to do so would only make them more suspicious of him, and so he stepped aside. The three men entered, and Vernon guided them into the sitting room.

Inspector Writewind's gaze swept over the room, noting the decorations and the furniture. It was a well off home, though small, and it was well cared for. Inspector Calden turned his attention fully on the owner of the home. "Mister Dursley, we are here in an attempt to find your nephew, one Harry Potter."

Vernon's face reddened in annoyance. "I told the F-- the Professor from that school that we have never seen the boy. Not since the deaths of my in-laws."

A glance was shared between the inspectors, "You were aware of the deaths of the Potters then?"

"Of course!" the man blustered, "It was our happi... it was a sad day indeed to hear of their deaths."

Another glance, another question, "And yet you never saw Mister Potter?"

"What does the boy have to do with any of it?"

"My dear boy," Albus interjected, and the Inspectors themselves were surprised by the hard look in the kindly Headmaster's gaze, "The only way you could have known of their deaths were from the letter I left with Harry. The wards protecting this house would not allow any other information regarding the deaths of the Potters through." It was a standard procedure at the time, so as to prevent orphans from being tormented by Death Eaters with information of how their families had been killed, in explicit detail.

Vernon paled, and the Inspectors nodded.

Writewind slipped his wand out of his wrist holster. "Point Me: Harry Potter."

The wand spun around rapidly for a moment, then jerked to a halt above his hand. Calden clamped his hands down on Vernon's shoulders, and guided the man along with them as they followed the wand's direction. The result was a tall bookshelf that took up quite a bit of space alongside the stairwell. A flick of the wand, and the bookshelf slid down the wall and revealed a door beneath the stairs.

Albus' mouth ran dry and he was forced to lick his lips. The door did not look like it had seen the light of day in many years-- the wall was a different shade entirely, behind the bookshelf, as though the Dursleys had painted around the bookshelf instead of moving it. All around the door were sticks of incense, long since having lost their scent.

"Alohomora."

The door creaked in protest as it was opened, and the incense sticks fell to the floor. Yet there was no boy in the cupboard under the stairs-- only a large locked trunk. The wand was pointing at the trunk.

Albus couldn't bear to watch as the Inspectors levitated the trunk out of the cupboard. He couldn't watch as they opened it. That sick feeling deep inside nearly broke him as Inspector Calden cursed loudly. The Hogwarts Headmaster had to bow his head and fight back the tears before he could even contemplate turning to see the sight that was so horrifying.

It was an image that would never leave Albus' mind, until the day that he died.

For the Boy-Who-Lived was undoubtedly dead. From the looks of the tiny broken and mummified corpse, he hadn't even reached his second birthday; his skull caved in from a harsh blow.


End Chapter

Originally posted... what, a week ago? Something like that, under the Alternate Potterverse title as drabble number ten. Written as a sort of "response" to all those "Vernon is abusive!!!!1!!one!!1" stories. Before anyone goes off on me about the fact that Vernon and Petunia are canonly abusive, I'm talking about the extreme kind I see in a lot of fanfics-- you know, the "cave Harry's chest" or "break every bone in his body" or "Harry needs to wear a glamore all the time because he's so sickly and beaten up" type of abusive fics. If you ask me, if Vernon was that violent, Harry wouldn't have survived his first year with the Dursley family. Unless his violence originally came out of Harry's first bite of accidental magic, but you can look at AP10 if you want to see my thoughts on that.

Anyways, like I said at the beginning, it was partially based off of a case I saw a few times on A&E. A relative kills a child. Wraps the child up. Puts them in a trunk in a closet. Forgets about them. It was a little disturbing, especially when you consider that the only record of this child existing was the birth certificate, she was so young.

I will be continuing this, as it's my attempt at NaNoWriMo, though I sincerely doubt I'll manage it. Too many papers and whatnot due this semester. Who's bright idea was it to have NaNoWriMo during the one month when everything is due for college/university students, anyways?