The Benefits of Vultures
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling.
The young boy never cried. At least, he never let anyone see him cry, which was why the first year was curled up behind a suit of armor, hot tears of anger in his eyes. He deserved to be here, just as much as any of the purebloods, even though he didn't know who his family was. He muttered a curse and a promise. He would show them. He would show them all.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and turned around sharply. A third year in Gryffindor robes held out a handkerchief. Her face held no pity, only remorse. "I apologize for my younger brother's behavior," she said stiffly. "I will address the matter of his rudeness. It was uncalled for."
The boy yanked the handkerchief from her hand and swiped at his eyes quickly. "Unnecessary. I will deal with the matter myself," he snarled, fighting for control of himself. He shoved the handkerchief back into her hand with far more force than was necessary. With as much dignity as he could muster, he stood up, turned and marched away. He didn't look back. She never mentioned the encounter to anyone.
000
He watched the girl in the red robes. For two years he watched her from across the Great Hall. He saw her in the corridor, but didn't speak to her. He watched her grow from an awkward third year, into a poised, but not particularly lovely fifth year. All the while he gained strength in his house, and found favor with his instructors and his peers. His magical strength and control, even as a third year, was very impressive. His good looks attracted others to him. Still he didn't speak to the witch who had seen his tears. He only watched her.
000
She liked to stand on the battlements overlooking the forest. She stayed far from the owlery, but seemed to enjoy watching the birds. She was looking through a pair of omnioculars when he spoke to her for the first time.
"Such nasty birds, eating the dead. Why do you like them so much?" He asked. He tried for disdain, but couldn't hide the note of interest in his voice.
She turned to the younger boy, startled out of her reverie. "Griffon Vultures are amazing. Do you see that one?" She pointed out a particularly large bird. "You almost never see one in Britain. There isn't enough lift for the birds to really fly efficiently, and there aren't really any animals large enough to sustain a lot of birds that size outside of the continent, except in the Forbidden Forest."
"But they eat dead things. That's vile." He argued.
The girl shook her head vehemently. "It isn't vile at all. Vultures seek out the corpses of the dead and pick them clean before they can be infected with maggots, which are definitely vile." She wrinkled her nose before continuing. "They protect wizards from diseases. They prevent larger prey from coming near the castle. Vultures are fascinating, and in their own way, quite beautiful. They aren't just death eaters."
He turned back to watch the birds. He'd never thought of the birds as protectors. He watched them swoop down, their massive black wingspans spreading out as they dove towards the dead hippogriff. He saw their white heads and strange twisted necks. He watched as they tore into the dead animal's flesh, picking it clean. From this distance, he couldn't make out the details, but he could imagine the birds stripping the meat from the bones and devouring the beast. He could imagine the birds eating their fill before the creatures from the ground could infest it, and before it could draw the attention of the wolves and other monsters in the forest. Those wolves wouldn't have any reason to come so near the castle without the birds arriving as quickly as they did.
The boy in the green robes and the girl in red stood watching the birds in the forest in silence.
000
In his fourth year, it became quite fashionable for the girls to wear hats with stuffed birds perched on them. Canaries and Blue Jays were popular among the younger set, their colorful plumage was striking on the hats sitting coquettishly atop fascinators and boaters, cloches and turbans. One daring Ravenclaw wore an entire miniature peacock on her tricorn hat, blocking the view of anyone sitting behind her.
The girl would never know how long the boy had practiced his transfiguration to get the vulture just right, but she knew exactly whom the gift sitting at the foot of her bed had come from. When she saw him in Hogsmeade later that day, she flashed him a brilliant smile and turned her head so he could see the unique headpiece she had attached the bird to. He was talking intently to a group of boys, all of them looking at him with admiration. Still his tipped his hat at her before turning back to his conversation.
A little disappointed at the lackluster response, she turned back to her own group of friends and they headed into the bookshop. She didn't see his small pleased smile.
000
Despite the fear and the whispers in the hallway among the students the following year, the seventh year Gryffindor girls never had any reason to fear the monster in the Chamber of Secrets that year. His instructions had been quite clear.
000
With parts of his soul now hidden away, he would be safe. He would be safe from the muggles, safe from the Germans and their bombs, safe from his insane uncle, and filthy mudblood father. No wizard could touch him. He was the strongest and the most powerful wizard in the world. They would never be able to hurt him.
He didn't miss the girl in the red robes after she left Hogwarts. He didn't.
000
When he saw her in Diagon Alley, she was walking with a tall young man and smiling. Her hand rested in the crook of his elbow. A ring glittered on her finger. Her hat had a bow, not a bird upon it.
She didn't see the young man watching her from the entrance to Knockturn Alley.
000
000
000
Men and women in flowing black robes and beaky white masks knelt before him. One spoke.
"Whom should we attack first, my lord, Potter or Longbottom?" The man trembled before his master.
Lord Voldemort stared fiercely at the man before him, his eyes a glittering ruby.
He made his choice.
000
A/N: Over the weekend I was reading "Divided and Entwined" by Starfox5. This story isn't really related to that story at all, but it did inspire me to write this piece. I've never really thought about it, but it's possible that Tom Riddle and Augusta Longbottom went to school at the same time, though they probably weren't in the same year.
Anyway, in both Starfox5's story and in canon, Voldemort made attempts to have Augusta Longbottom kidnapped.
Further, I always wondered if, besides the half-blood/pure-blood thing, there was a reason Voldemort chose Potter. The events of this story are a possible reason.
Thank you for reading my story. I've not written anything in years and it was a fun exercise in creativity. Please let me know what you think. If you know of any Augusta/Tom friendship or relationship fics, please let me know. I've never seen one before. Thank you!