A/N: it's almost midnight in France and I've just achieved my first chapter. So, here it is, my new baby: The Boy-Who-Survived: When ordeals are real, a Harry Potter's story !
It's rated M mainly because I hate limitations with a passion. When I write, at least. It's highly unlikely you'll read any lemons in this story, partly because my Harry is eleven (for now), partly because I'm not confident about this kind of scenes. I won't give much details about things such as rape or child abuse either, though they may very well be implicit in my story. I'm not, however, above describing gore scenes.
Also, I don't fear character's deaths much more than George R.R. Martin, although that's probably the only thing we share. If someone must die so the plot advance, so be it. I won't kill anyone out of spite or boredom.
There's no bashing here. Most characterization will be based on canon, except for the ones who get no spotlight in MLR's works (did I mention My Lady Rowling ? She owns almost everything I'll write here).
What's the pitch ? Simple. Canon was low-level difficulty, at best mid-level. This, my friends, is what I believe to be real world difficulty. In other words, it's a harcore mode AU.
From Harry's perspective , it means Vernon Dursley was truly as stupid as he looked, didn't heed his wife's warning and abandoned his nephew... somewhere. What followed was a Oliver Twist-like childhood for our young hero, but with magic and death eaters involved.
DISCLAIMER ! If I owned Harry Potter, the hero would have died by the end of book 6, so it's probably a good thing that I don't – J.K. Rowling does, and I won't face the ire of her fans.
I don't own the Hounds of Shadow either. Steven Erikson does, though they won't be all that similar to their malazan counterpart.
Now, the story...
SSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYY
Was it the end ? It certainly did feel so. Harry had no strength left in his body, no hope left in his mind. Only one thing allowed him to keep running, and it was a simple, sheer determination to stay alive a few more seconds.
To make matters worse, a heavy rain began to pour from a dark grey sky. A normal mid-summer evening in England, all things considered. Harry didn't know which was best, crying or laughing. If the world ever hated anyone, he sure was this unlucky bloke.
His earliest memory was a flash of green, blinding light, and a woman crying his name. The next one was nothing pleasant either: the roaring sound of a car's motor, and then the harsh cold of winter. What did it say about his life, though, that they were not among the worst he had ?
Far behind him, but not far enough for Harry's taste, a deep howl tore through the increasingly thick veil of falling water. 'Crap', he thought, 'they're closing in'. Whatever they were. Dogs shouldn't be allowed to be this big, therefore they were probably no mere dogs at all.
Well, their size would be manageable, if they weren't so fast, so persistent. Twice they found him, twice he managed to escape their fangs. Yet, Harry was fairly sure the third time would be the charm. The trick he used was reliable and efficient, but also incredibly draining.
'I must find somewhere to hide', he realized, 'but how ? My smell would betray my cache, and I can count on no one but myself to shelter me'. He shot a desperate glance to his surroundings. Of course, the streets were empty, and all the doors and windows were closed. It always happened when someone, or something, was chasing him.
Because the hounds weren't a one time occurrence, far from it. Rather, his whole life was but a long flight from an imminent and horrible death. Men in black cloaks, hooded shadows, ferocious beasts and so on: they were all after his skin. Really, it was a wonder he even made it to eleven.
Eleven years old, of course, not eleven pm – not yet. Heavens help him to survive this long ! But eleven was his age, he supposed. Actually, he didn't quite know the date of his own birthday. People said he looked younger, ten years old at most, but Harry knew better. He felt so old that even eleven didn't seem to do it justice: it was just the oldest reasonable guess.
Now Harry was soaked, from hairs to bones, and a closer, fiercer howl resonated through the heavy air. At this exact moment, the boy tripped and fell on the wet ground. He didn't lift up. Every part of his body ached, his lungs were desperately asking for oxygen, his heart was about to explode. That was it. Today was his final day. After seven years of blurred memories and four years of incessant struggles, his life was about to end.
Somewhere inside him, a little voice remarked it was an easy date to remember, if someone ever wanted to recall his untimely demise. 31St of July. Harry would die as the seventh month did. At this uncanny thought, he barked a savage, disabused laugh.
Suddenly, without a warning, an owl hooted and dropped a letter in front of him. Harry lifted his head, incredulous. The bird looked angry to be outside, and the boy understood why. The weather certainly wasn't kind to anyone. Then, he glanced at the missive he just received.
"What kind of address is this ?" he wondered aloud.
To Harry Potter, somewhere in the streets of King's Lynn.
"If someone is omnipotent enough to know where I am," he asked the owl, "couldn't he bring some help ? You see, I'm, like, in mortal danger right now !"
As he finished his sentence, three great dogs appeared on one end of the street. They were quite tall on their legs, fierce-looking, and their red eyes were glowing brightly above their teeth-bared maws. All of them were growling dangerously, yet Harry noticed but one thing.
'Three ? I met six of them !' And then he thought, somewhat hopefully: 'Maybe someone got rid of the others !'
But this hope didn't last, as he heard three other snarls behind him. It was just perfect. Not only were they fast and stubborn, they were also intelligent enough to cut him from any potential escape roads. Not that it mattered. He was too tired to flee, neither by feet nor otherwise.
"Good," he said to the hounds, "come and kill me. It wasn't a good life, anyway."
They were approaching slowly, clearly expecting another trick, a last attempt to save his life. Nevertheless, they were closing in, and would abide his last words soon enough. 'Maybe I should have ask them to leave me alone' Harry thought. Then he closed his eyes, and waited.
Then he heard a feeble cracking noise, and a female voice.
"Sweet Merlin ! Albus, what is happening here ?"
Harry's eyelids jerked open. Three people were towering above him, clad in strange robes and wearing even weirder hats, whose wide edges were protecting them from the rain. There was an old, white-bearded man, with bright blue eyes; a stern looking lady, probably a little less old than him; and a far younger, greasy-haired, big-nosed man. The woman seemed shocked and the younger man grim, whereas the elder man looked serene as he answered his companion.
"It appears, Minerva, that during all these years, we weren't the only ones searching for young Harry Potter."
"No offence, headmaster," snapped the other man, "but these beasts are Hounds of Shadow ! Can't we leave the small talk until after they're defeated ?"
"Of course, Severus," acquiesced the white-bearded man benevolently. "Minerva, would you please do us the favour ?"
The woman nodded, and faced the closest three among the dogs, which looked at her with hesitation. Then she pointed a straight stick at them and cried:
"Spiritus Lapidei !"
A gust of dusty wind escaped the stick and directed toward the beasts. One of them was quick enough to dodge the dust, but the two others weren't. To Harry's great awe, they began to turn into stone, and soon, the former terrifying hounds were but statues, quiet and motionless – still terrifying, though.
Apparently, the four remaining dogs didn't like their chances. They ran away, and the three robe-clad strangers didn't bother to pursue. Instead, the older one turned to Harry.
"How are you, my boy ? Did they hurt you ?"
The child within Harry wanted to answer 'No, thanks you', or maybe even 'No, thanks to you', but the survivor inside him was in control, and he retorted with his own questions.
"Who are you ? Why did you save me ? And how do you know my name ?"
Well, his first name at last. He couldn't be sure the white-bearded man got his surname right, for he didn't know it himself. One way or another, the harshness of his reply surprised the elderly man, angered the woman, but the third man just snorted, clearly amused.
"The brat is an ungrateful one, but he's asking pertinent questions. Are you going to answer him now, headmaster, or should we wait until we're back at Hogwarts ?"
"My office would certainly be more comfortable than the hard ground of a city's street" agreed the older man. "What do you say, my boy ? Wouldn't you prefer a pleasant chat in a dry, heated room, rather than here, in the rain ?"
Harry hesitated, but not for long. The hounds had fled, which means the three of them – Albus, Minerva and Severus – were stronger than the beasts had been. Exhausted like he was, he stood no chance to escape.
"Okay", he relented. " Your name is Albus, isn't it ?"
The white-bearded man chuckled, while the other two stared at him comically. Clearly, an eleven years old boy wasn't meant to be on a first name basis with their companion. 'Too bad for them', thought Harry, 'I couldn't care less about conveniences right now'.
Albus grabbed Harry's shoulder, and his companions seized his. Then he cleared his voice, and shouted:
"To Hogwarts, Fawkes !"
And the four of them disappeared in a blinding flash of red flames.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
One instant later, they were indoor, in a room full of books and of the strangest artefacts. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine what purposes most of them served. In fact, he didn't try to: his mind was on more important matters.
Harry always knew there were other people with the same power as he. The black-cloaked men had taught him that much, when their attempted murder had involved throwing cars at him, setting houses in fire at an unnatural speed, or making large animals appear out of nowhere. It made sense that not all of these people would want to kill him on sight.
As it was, it felt obvious that nobody here meant him harm. Especially after a wave of the old man's stick dried his wet hairs and clothes. But then, what did they want of him ?
"So, Harry, why don't you take a seat" said Albus, gesturing toward a seemingly cosy chair in front of a wooden desk. He sat on the opposite side himself, but his companions stood still.
Exhausted by a whole day of run-and-hide, Harry sat gratefully, but wearily.
"Who are you ?" he repeated. "You clearly aren't part of the men in black robes."
His words, Harry noticed, had an instantaneous effect on the three adults around him. 'Minerva' placed a hand in front her mouth as to prevent a small cry from escaping. 'Severus' blanched considerably, which, considering his already pale skin, was no meagre feat. Even the serene 'headmaster' frowned grimly.
"No, we're certainly not part of these men." he declared, before asking: "Do you come across them often ?"
"Every now and then" Harry answered evasively. "I won't say anything more before I get my own answers, though. Who. Are. You ?"
"How impolite of us. We know your name, but of course you don't know ours. Let me introduce to you the most outstanding members of Hogwarts' staff: on my left is professor Snape, our potions master, and on my right professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, whose speciality is transfiguration. On my part, I like to present myself as professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and Chief Warlock of the Wizenmagot."
That, thought Harry, was an awfully long and pompous introduction of himself. However, he didn't miss the twinkling within the old man's blue eyes. It seemed the so-called Supreme Mugwump had tried to lighten the atmosphere more than anything else.
"So, your names are Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore" he summed up. "And each of you works here, at... Hogwarts, was it ? A school for children like me, if I'm not mistaken."
"What exactly" the headmaster asked carefully "do you mean by 'children like you' ?"
"Children with powers. I may not know much about the world, but I'm fairly sure most humans can't do that."
And Harry gathered his strength to levitate a book lying on the headmaster's desk. It was a simple trick he had learned at seven, the first time he had to fight for his life, but it impressed the three adults nonetheless. 'Professor' McGonagall was especially stunned: Harry could quite literally count her teeth, and was surprised to find her dentition was flawless.
"A silent, wandless charm at eleven ?" hissed Snape. "It's impossible !"
"Quite evidently not" replied Dumbledore "for he did it before our very eyes."
"I don't believe it !" persisted the potions master. "It must be accidental magic, and nothing more."
"Severus, don't be so blind. Accidental magic is, by nature, accidental. What Harry did was perfectly deliberate and, I must say, controlled."
Then he turned to the green-eyed boy, and asked:
"Did someone teach you this spell, my boy ?"
"Sort of" snorted Harry. "Someone sure showed it to me countless times, but I don't think he intended to teach it. Unless trying to smash me under a truck counts as a private lesson ?"
"No," answered the headmaster darkly. "No, it doesn't. Nevertheless, your feat is quite impressive. I don't think any student within these walls ever succeeded to cast a wandless spell before his first lesson even begin."
"Perhaps you should try to place you students in do-or-die situations" retorted Harry, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "They are surprisingly efficient ways to learn tricks such as this one."
"I would never do that. My main concern as headmaster is to ensure the safety of every attendant."
Now he had Harry's full attention. The boy's main concern was, after all, his own safety. The old man looked powerful too. Perhaps Harry would be able to find a way to make their respective interests converge.
"Do you have much success ?" he inquired. If not, he wouldn't seek in his protection, that was for sure.
"No one died at Hogwarts for more than fifty years" answered Dumbledore proudly. "And it never happened in all the years I've been headmaster, even when a war was raging on."
"That's a good thing" conceded Harry. "Perhaps I should attend, then. Could I ?"
The headmaster addressed him a benevolent smile, as if he all but waited such a question.
"The answer, my boy, is written on the letter you still hold in your left hand."
And Harry realized he'd kept his mail in his grasp all along. It wasn't really surprising. After all, it was the first letter he'd ever received in eleven years of existence. He took the time to detail the missive before opening it. Against every expectation, it was dry, probably due to some magic. On the yellow parchment, a red seal was affixed. The symbol was certainly Hogwarts': what else could the big 'H' stand for ? Sadly, Harry didn't understand the motto.
" 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'" he read aloud. "What does it mean ?"
" Never tickle a sleeping dragon" supplied Dumbledore helpfully.
" A wise proverb" grinned Harry. "I like it."
He knew next to nothing about dragons, but he could have made Hogwarts' motto his, as many of his pursuers had learnt to their expense. Indeed, never disturb the peaceful power, lest it wake up to burn you down !
Then he broke the seal and began to read the content of his mail. It took him approximatively five minutes of focused silence, after which he raised his head and asked:
"That's quite a long list of furnitures. Where and how am I supposed to buy all of them ? I'm penniless, you know."
Surprisingly, it never had been a problem in his everyday life. Stealing had become a second nature to him, and had grown increasingly easy after he'd understood how his powers could bypass most of security systems. But he hadn't the slightest idea of where he could find any of the furnitures Hogwarts required. Even if he did, trying to rob a magically protected shop sounded like an incredibly bad idea. So, for once, he was clueless.
However, Snape seemed to choke out on a mirthless laugh, and said:
"A Potter, penniless ? Merlin forbid !"
"Your parents have left you more than enough money to complete any purchases you'd required, Mr. Potter" added McGonagall. "As for the 'where' question, my duty as deputy headmistress involves I accompany any muggleborn student to Diagon Alley, where such furnitures can be found."
"I've no idea what muggleborn means but I still thank you very much," replied Harry, who was staring icily in Snape's direction. "Now, however, I've more questions for you. If you knew I existed the whole time, why did you wait so long before finding me ? You call me 'mister Potter', and while it may be my first name, how would I know ? I don't even remember my parent's faces, let alone their name !"
The two professors looked at each other uneasily, and McGonagall began to answer hesitantly.
"Well, you had disappeared, and..."
"And what ?" cut Harry. "You can turn giant dogs into stones and you can't find a child below eleven? What is your magic for ? The men in black robes didn't seem to find it too difficult. They never relented for more than one month, and I still remember that period as heaven on earth. When nobody tries to kill you, it's so much easier to find a place where to eat and sleep !"
"It wasn't that easy !" protested McGonagall indignantly. "Each time we found a place where you'd stayed, you were already gone, leaving no trace behind !"
"Oh, I'm so sorry !" exploded Harry. "I just thought fleeing might be the right thing to do when a bunch of killers with supernatural powers were after my life ! But maybe I should have waited and been killed."
It rendered the transfiguration teacher speechless, but not the headmaster, who watched Harry with curious eyes.
"Were death eaters' attacks such a frequent occurrence, my boy ?"
" Death eaters ?" repeated Harry. The name seemed a little ridiculous. "Is it the name you give to the black-cloaked men ? There's usually one per week, more or less. Is it enough of a custom for your taste ?"
" I don't believe it" intervened Snape with a sneer on his face. "Even with some uncanny powers, a mere boy can't take on full grown wizards, let alone death eaters, and escape so often."
He was well-placed to know what his former comrades were capable of, after all, and none of them would have been put in check by an eleven-years-old. Hell, even full blown war machines like the Prewetts were taken down by the inner circle, without any help from their master ! While he seemed more advanced than his age, such prowesses were beyond the boy.
"Believe what you want" answered Harry haughtily. "But you might want to ask his opinion to the one I killed two years ago !"
Silence fell heavily on the headmaster's office. After speaking for so long, Harry was thirsty, and a little out of breath, but the three adults were watching him in horror and disbelief.
"How did it happen ?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"There isn't much to say" explained Harry without any hint of guilt or shame. "There was a great fire, and the man had nearly cornered me, so I pushed him into the flames. Judging by the way he screamed, I'm pretty sure he died."
" Grown up wizard can't be killed by mere fire," frowned McGonagall, "the witch hunts proved that much. Unless... Fiendfyre, maybe ?"
" It would make sense" agreed Snape. "If that's so, I know exactly who died that day. Crabbe went missing two years ago, and he had no great talent with fire spells. He was believed to be searching for former comrades abroad, but..."
The adults looked thoughtful, but Harry sneered. He knew he was supposed to feel regret for the life he took, yet he couldn't bring him to it. His enemy reaped what he sew.
" So what ?" he said grimly. "Good riddance, I say."
" No child should speak like this, Harry" stated Dumbledore, but his reproach sounded half-hearted even to his own ears. "Nor should they be forced to kill anyone."
" I agree, but these death eaters guys apparently don't. I don't believe you can convince them to leave me alone ?"
" I could probably 'convinced' them, if I knew who and where they might be" admitted Dumbledore. "But they're supposed to be disbanded."
" Great" sighed Harry. He didn't have much hope for his problems to be solved so quickly, but still felt strangely disappointed. "Do you have any vague idea of why they're after my life, then ?"
" No, my boy. I know exactly why they want to kill you, even after all these years."
" Well, I'm all ears !"
And he truly was. After all these years of flight, was he about to know why he had to flee in the first place ? It seemed more important than anything else to him. What kind of sick organization would spend such effort in order to kill a mere child, anyway ? Well, he wasn't actually a mere child, since he did possess a power beyond what an ordinary human was supposed to wield, but so did his pursuers. He shouldn't have been that important to them.
" They want to avenge their fallen master," explained Dumbledore.
Harry didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't it. He was fairly sure he didn't open the hostilities between him and the black-cloaked men, even if his memories weren't very accurate about what happened before his sixth year.
" What does it have to do with me ?"
" You wouldn't remember, of course, but it was you who caused his demise, ten years ago."
"Hold on. Are you mad ? I was one ! I was barely able to speak or walk, let alone kill a grown up man !"
"And yet... The proof of what I just said is on your forehead."
That statement elicited a frown on Harry's face. His unruly hairs couldn't prove anything like that, could they ? Unless it was a magic thing he wasn't aware of.
"What do you mean ?"
"Your lightning-shaped scar, Harry. It has been left by a powerful curse, a curse who never failed to kill, until a night whose date will never be forgotten. It was the 31st of October, 1981. On that fateful night, our greatest enemy visited the house where your family was hiding. He murdered your father. He murdered your mother. But when he tried to kill you, he was destroyed with a great tremor, leaving nothing behind but fuming ruins and an oddly scarred baby."
Speechless, Harry looked at Dumbledore with incredulity. He knew he was a survivor, but this story was absurd ! Something must have happened that nobody knew of. He wasn't immune to curses, of that at least he was certain.
"Just like this, a five years long war had ended. Seven days were enough to find and eliminate the last of our foes. Some fought fiercely, but most of the others just surrendered, demoralized by the loss of their master. You can't imagine, Harry, the joy and relief that followed. It was like awakening from an endless nightmare. You were dubbed the "Boy-Who-Lived", and if the 31st of October hadn't been the day of Halloween, it would have become Harry Potter's day. In fact, it was considered very seriously for a while."
"Am I some kind of national hero, then ?"
The news was hard to assimilate. Harry was far too used to be a nobody, a shadow of the streets, to accept any other truth.
"Absolutely" acquiesced Dumbledore. "There's no witch nor wizard in Britain who don't know your name. Actually, I suspect those who ignore it are very few and scarce across the world."
"Well, I did for sure!" laughed Harry, but there was no humour in his voice. It struck him as extremely ironic that he was probably the last person on earth to learn his own last name, at eleven no less.
When his sad cackle ceased, he stared intently at Dumbledore.
"So, how did your great hero disappear ? Surely I haven't been lost in the woods."
"Not exactly" sighed the headmaster. "I fear I'm the to blame for much of your hardships, Harry. I wanted to place you at your uncle and aunt's, but I underestimated their distaste for your parents, or anything magic. Despite my warnings, they abandoned you the very next night after the one you'd been left on their threshold."
"They couldn't use magic ?" asked Harry.
"No, they couldn't."
"And that was enough of a reason for them to ditch me ?" He snarled "Their very blood ? Their very kin ? What kind of people are they ?"
"Muggles" sneered Snape.
Harry didn't know what it meant, but out of his mouth it sounded so derogatory, so full of contempt, that he couldn't help but feel a wave of sympathy for the greasy-haired man. Harry himself had a wide array of names he could have used to characterize his new found 'family', but he doubted very much they would have been well received by an audience composed exclusively of teachers.
" All muggles aren't that bad, Severus," scolded Dumbledore, "though I have to admit the Dursleys surprised even me by how evil they behaved toward young Harry. I really should have known better than trusting them with a child not theirs."
"Were they punished, at least ?" Harry's voice sent a chill along the spines of the three adults. His tone had just made very clear he would take actions himself, should justice not have been exerted in his name.
"They were. No muggle can be send to Azkaban, but we've made sure they paid the price of their crime in accordance with muggles' laws."
"Good" he declared grimly. "I gather 'muggles' is the name given to those without magic, by opposition to 'witch' and 'wizard' ? "
"Exactly" confirmed the headmaster. "They don't know we exist, and, in return, we try the hardest we can not to disturb them. Of course, people like the death eaters doesn't care much about muggles or secrecy."
"I'd never have guessed" mocked Harry. "What gave it away ? Their incendiary tendencies, the murdering of innocent bystanders or the summoning of giant beasts ?"
The dry sarcasm induced a new moment of silence, until Harry broke it again.
"What of me, now ? Will you bring me back to the streets of King's Lynn until the terms begins?"
"Of course not !" exclaimed McGonagall. "There's plenty of room in Hogwarts where you can stay until a better alternative is arranged."
Then she turned her head toward Dumbledore, and said:
"Headmaster, if we're finished, shouldn't I show Mr. Potter around and have an individual chamber prepared for him in the teacher's area ? We'll be done before dinner."
"Good idea, Minerva," nodded the headmaster. "Go ahead. I have some lesser matters to discuss with Severus before the night falls."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
As soon as they left, Albus let his grandfatherly façade drop, and turned his gaze toward his potions master with an expression befitting a warring general. It was in fact his true nature, for the war wasn't over. How could it be, when Voldemort wasn't truly dead ?
"What do you think of the boy, Severus ?"
"He's... unsettling" the greasy-haired man admitted. "Full of anger, but sharp-witted. Sometimes as hot as fire, at other as cold as ice. And powerful, without a doubt. If he wasn't so young, I'd deem him ruthless too. I fear I recognize these features, Albus. Are we about to witness the rise of a second Dark Lord ?"
"Hopefully not" answered the headmaster. "Tom and Harry have a lot in common, it's true. When a young soul lives through hardships, it breaks or it hardens. Both of them chose to harden, and both were powerful to begin with, hence the similarities. Yet they aren't the same. Harry's emotions are more open than Tom's, and there's considerably less cruelty within his heart."
"Maybe it's only because he never was in a position to abuse his power" remarked Severus. "After all, if he said the truth, he always was on the run, chased by more accomplished wizards than him."
"Maybe, but I don't think so. That said, something else bothers me. Did you notice, Severus, how his eyes always escaped ours ? And yet, he's certainly not shy."
" Surely, you can't mean he's aware of how legilimency works?" frowned the potions master. "Even the pureblood families have become too lazy to prepare their heirs against it."
"I don't know, Severus. But, if Harry is anything like Tom, we must not underestimate him. When he was young, Lord Voldemort always seemed to know things which should have been out of his reach."
Many things could be said about Severus Snape. He was a man of too many duties, too many loyalties, and thus he couldn't be trusted. Something he wasn't, however, was naïve. At one moment, the headmaster tried to appease him by saying Harry Potter wouldn't turn like his former master. At the other, he implied they should behave as if the boy was Riddle the Second. In short, while Dumbledore tried to appear serene and in control of everything, he really wasn't. Severus suspected his benefactor was envisaging possibilities after possibilities even while talking to him, and elaborating new plans accordingly.
"It can't be good, Albus. Even if you believe their heart are different, I won't sleep well knowing someone with the potential to become a Dark Lord dwells within our walls."
"Alas, we've got no other choice available to us. I prefer him at Hogwarts, before our watching eyes, rather than roaming freely outside, exposed to a thousand different threats. Plus, I hope the friends he'll undoubtedly make among his peers will be able to soften his heart and heal his emotional wounds, thus averting the creation of a new Voldemort."
"Indeed, the Dark Lord had no friends" approved Severus. "Only enemies, and servants. Still, it's not like you to let such a potent threat... unaddressed."
Both knew what the potions master meant by that. When the previous war had ended, the headmaster had ensured most of the death eaters were rendered toothless. Or lifeless. The Lestrange brothers were killed without a trial, and Rodolphus' crazy wife imprisoned in a secret place. Walden Macnair underwent the dementor's kiss. Lucius Malfoy had escaped Azkaban from the narrowest margin, but was stripped from most of his possessions, which condemned him to a Weasley-like lifestyle. Nott and Yaxley, however, weren't able to escape the nightmarish place the Ministry used as its prison. Crabbe's and Goyle's claims to have been imperiused received a favourable echo, but on their own they were harmless enough anyway.
All of the so-called inner circle was similarly treated, with three exceptions. Dolohov, Rosier and the infamous Sirius Black were still at large. The foreigner, the pureblood fanatic and the traitor. In a twisted way, it was actually a good thing: they quickly became the focal point of everyone else's hatred, because they were obvious symbols of everything wrong with the Dark Lord's rule.
Still, they were probably responsible for most of the attacks targeting young Harry Potter. Knowing they were alive and free was incredibly frustrating for every member of the Order, especially Alastor Moody, who spent most of his time looking for them, to no avail. But Severus' point was the following: if the death eaters hadn't been completely eradicated, it was certainly not because of a lack of efforts on Albus' part.
"If killing a child was the price to pay to protect our country from a Dark Lord, I wouldn't hesitate, Severus. However, the situation doesn't call for it. On the contrary: if Voldemort returns – and I fear he will – Harry may be our best hope to stop him."
" How so ?" inquired Severus, somewhat sceptically. The boy may had the potential to face his former master one day, but it would still be many years before he could defeat him.
" During the last war, I duelled Voldemort several times. At first, he was able to force a draw and escape. Then, he came back stronger, and I had to act the same way. But, in the latest of our confrontations, I got a strange feeling from him, as if I wouldn't be able to put him down, no matter what. I couldn't explain why – he wasn't stronger than before, not by much at least – but it was a cold certainty: 'I can't kill him' I thought. It chilled me more than I can express with words, because Gellert once thought the very same thing, just before I vanquished him. He told me that much when I met him at Nurmengard. "
"But there is worse: Voldemort had the exact opposite feeling. He behaved like he knew I wouldn't defeat him. On this day, the 27th of October, only his arrogance allowed me to escape. Four days later, he disappeared without a trace, vanquished by a one-years-old. Don't you think it is significant ? I've elaborated many theories since then to explain his defeat, the likeliest being Lily sacrificed her life to protect her child, for even I wouldn't dare challenge such a potent magic, but Voldemort may have tried, and been destroyed as a result."
"Still, it didn't explain why Tom suddenly got the upper hand against me. Until then, we were evenly matched, so why ?"
"I sought an answer in many places, and I found it where I didn't think I would: in Homer's Iliad, of all things ! I was Hector, he was Achilles, both champions of the greatest calibre, but he had Fate on his side, and it made all the difference. Eventually, he would have set a siege on Hogwarts to force a last duel between us, and I would have met my demise in the same way Hector had. I was only saved because he was quicker than Achilles to confront his own Paris, nothing else."
"Long story short," Snape summed up, "you believe there's a prophecy about the Dark Lord, and Potter junior might be his fated slayer."
It made sense, in a way. Severus never understood how his former master could have been destroyed so easily, but if Fate had a hand in it... Well, even near-almighty beings like Merlin or the titan Cronos couldn't fight against the powers of destiny.
"Your game is dangerous, Albus" he warned the headmaster. If Fate is truly on our side, we shouldn't interfere. Remember Oedipus, Belshazzar and Kumarbi ! Prophecies and the like are tricky things, mere humans can't play with it, lest they got crushed by the wheel of destiny."
"I know" Albus admitted. "Yet inaction might result in a disaster too. I can't see what wrong can come from letting Harry study at Hogwarts. I won't groom him as a weapon – at least not before he's ripe for accepting it, or even better, for desiring it. After all, didn't Voldemort take everything from him ? Vengeance will likely be an important part of his life during the years to come, especially if it becomes clear to him that his nemesis isn't truly dead."
"It's still hubris, Albus. We know next to nothing about whatever prophecies he might be involved with. It'd be dangerous enough with their content at our disposition, but here – it's madness !"
"I hear your words, my friend. But I believe today gave us signs my ways are right. Didn't I say we could rely on the Founders' magic to find Mr. Potter ?"
"It was barely enough" sneered the potions master. "Minerva's owl was just in time. One minute later and we would have found an atrociously mutilated body. Hounds of Shadow, Albus ! Even Bellatrix would hesitate before sending them after a child."
Although he wouldn't admit it, Severus was still shocked. The summoned beasts were ferocious killers and relentless hunters, but they made such efficient weapons against most wizard because of their skin, whose resistance to magic was on a league above even the mighty dragons'. The only known ways to defeat them were to kill their summoners, to use physical weapons (and even then they were incredibly resilient to most metals), or to bypass their natural armour somehow. Minerva had done just that, sending magical dust through their nostrils, but only a few spells allowed such feats, and Severus himself couldn't rely on a foolproof solutions against the hounds.
"We were lucky indeed" agreed the headmaster. "But between luck and destiny, thin is the distinction. That's exactly why I'm confident we're on the right tracks."
"Merlin hear you, Albus. For if you're mistaken, we'll all pay the price dearly.".
TO BE CONTINUED
(Probably not before the 17th of June. Studies and all that IRL stuff).