Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. I do not own any of them. I certainly do not stand to gain anything.
A/N: This is my second fic and I think I did a good job if I say so myself. This story may contain triggers, so it is up to you to decide if you want to be involved. I am not one for graphic descriptions, be it either violence or romance. But, I will do my best to give just enough so the point gets across.
I repeat, this work may contain scenes or references regarding physical/emotional abuse and neglect of a minor. This will only be a small part of the plot. Definitely not what the entire story revolves around. Still, if you are uncomfortable with any of these, please refrain from reading this. Nobody is forcing you. I DO NOT CONDONE ANY SUCH BEHAVIOUR. This is purely fiction.
Also, there will be a slash pairing in the story. Not sure who, but there will be. So, if you have a problem with that, there are plenty of other fics out there for you. This one is for non-judgmental folks.
So, get to it and tell me what you think! Reviews would be greatly appreciated!
Chapter 1: Heart-aches and Manipulations.
A tall, lean man with a hooked nose sat in his study, deep in contemplation. He took another sip of the firewhiskey as he stared into the fire that roared in the fireplace. As the liquid burned in his throat, his rage was simmering just under control. He was having bitter reminiscences of the times he was the victim of the Marauders. Oh, how they had bullied him and strutted around the place as if they owned bloody Hogwarts. His fury peaked and he threw his glass against the wall where it shattered. He breathed deeply and bought himself to a semblance of calmness.
He had not thought of his time as a student for a long time. After all, there are things that happened to him after his time at Hogwarts that now occupied the pedestal of 'the worst times of his life'. Granted that his foolishness led to his troubles, but he felt that he did not deserve so many nightmares in his relatively short life. It seemed to him that he was set up to fall from the beginning, that he did not even stand a chance. Abused through his childhood by his brute and drunk of a father, he had looked to Hogwarts as an escape. But that turned sour as well because of the bullying. All his efforts to rise above the disaster that was his life only led to the Dark Lord. After the fiasco with the prophecy, he looked to Dumbledore as a savior. Alas, that turned out to be a slap in his face. Not only was Lily dead, he was cursed never to have a free existence. He was, if not happy, but content in his position as the Potion Master of Hogwarts. He had never wanted to teach but that was part of his deal with the Ministry to keep him out of Azbakan. He was an ex-death eater after all and this was their way of monitoring his whereabouts. He had resigned himself to a life of disappointment, to have no free will, to never have a family. He had learned to be content with what was granted to him and was happy to at least put his past behind, or whatever part of his past he was allowed to put behind.
But today he was reminded of everything that went wrong in his life and it was all because of a discussion that happened in the staffroom. The Potter brat had not replied to his letter and McGonagall was worried. Leave it to the brat to seek out special treatment even before stepping a foot in Hogwarts. He had no doubt in his mind that the boy had lived like a pompous prince, never wanting for anything. He was certain that the brat would be arrogant and self-centered. He fumed throughout the meeting and retired to his quarters immediately. He could see what the coming year would be like. The brat would strut around the school just like his father, milking his fame for all its worth. And of course everybody would fawn over him as if he was the second coming of Merlin himself.
He felt sick as his mind conjured up the image of a miniature James Potter being cooed over by the female staff of Hogwarts. There was no doubt in his mind that the brat would end up in Gryffindor. Why did that boy had to come to Hogwarts now? He considered the brat as a punishment sent from Hell customized just for him. He promised himself that the boy would never get any special treatment from him no matter what anybody said. He would not pander to the arrogance of another big-headed Gryffindor. Yes, the golden boy would know what it means to be normal. He would show the boy what it felt to be like the other mortals on Earth. He swore to himself that the brat would not get the better of him. He raged and fumed and eventually fell into a very disturbed sleep.
Meanwhile, the boy who occupied the man's thoughts was shivering on the stone-cold floor as he huddled under a threadbare blanket. His cousin was occupying the only sofa and commanded both the good blankets. His uncle had gone mad and dragged them all to a wooden hut in the middle of nowhere. He could hear the rain as it poured outside. The freezing wind came in through the holes in the walls and he moved closer to the fireplace to get more warmth. He was thinking about the letter that he never got to read and wondered again about where it came from.
He wished that there was someone out there who cared for him. He had been repeatedly told that he was a 'freak', that he was weak, that no one had wanted him, that he was a burden. His relatives had always taken care to never provide him with even a single moment of happiness. They had always shown him that he was never allowed anything other than misery. His uncle had even tried to beat it into him. But he always knew that he was strong. That it did not matter what they did, that they would never succeed in breaking him. He had promised himself that he would be free of them one day. But the one thing he craved more than anything was to be loved by someone, anyone. When his aunt sneered at him with disgust, he would tell himself that it was better to be hated by her than loved. He shuddered at the thought of himself in the place of Dudley. When his uncle carried out one of his numerous punishments by caning, whipping or punching him, he told himself that his uncle was nothing but a small-minded bully. When his cousin had thrown a tantrum when he had done better than Dudley in classes, he consoled himself that they can only force him to not score better. That they had no control over his mind. He promised himself that he would seek whatever knowledge he could get his hands on, that he would learn whatever he could and that his relatives would not dictate that part of his life. They could starve him of food, but his mind was his to feed and feed it he would. But the worst part was that he was not even allowed a friend. There was literally no one who loved him and that hurt worse than the beatings.
But now, something had changed. Someone had already sent numerous letters and he only prayed that they didn't give up on him. He prayed with all his might that there was someone who cared about what happened to him. He prayed for a chance to prove that he was more than a 'freak', that he was lovable, never knowing that there were people who loved him more than life itself.
Many miles away from the shivering boy, there was a dog which was also shivering. But the cold that the dog felt was not because of the weather, but because of the evil that lingered outside the jail cell. This dog was not also what it seemed to be, for it was a man. This man had a name once, but now, he was nothing more than a number on a page. He was in a filthy cell inside Azkaban, aka, Hell on Earth, which employed evil soul-sucking demons called Dementors to guard their prisoners. Most inmates had long been driven to insanity, but not this one. He was holding onto his sanity by a flimsy thread because he believed that he owed it to his godson. The same godson who he was accused of betraying. But he knew the truth and he held onto it with all his might. He knew that the Dementors would steal all his happy memories away, but he was determined that they would not steal away his love for his godson.
Across the ocean was another man with a scarred face, who was cleaning filthy dishes to earn what little money he could. He scarcely allowed himself a full belly, rather saving up all his money to look for a little boy. The boy, who he deemed as family, just like he had deemed his three best friends as his family all those years ago. Now, his family was torn apart, two dead and one a traitor and this little boy was all that was left of the happy memories he held so close to his heart. He had begged and begged to see the boy, but he was told that he was too dangerous to the boy. But he would not stop. He would not stop until he found the little piece of his family that was left and until then, he would work and save and then search. This was his life as it had been for many years. He had sworn to himself that he would not give up on his cub.
In northern Scotland, stood a magnificent castle that reeked of magic. This was the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In this castle, a very old, wizened man who held too many important positions was sat in a peculiar office filled with oddly-shaped trinkets and moving portraits. He was enjoying his favorite sweets and was planning for the next school year. He was satisfied with all the preparations. Every piece was in place and the game was set to start. He fancied himself as an all-seeing wise man whose duty it was to see to the good of the entire Wizarding world. It was an honor bestowed on him by the people after all. But he failed to see the truth that was right in front of his face. That he was nothing more than a manipulating, interfering busybody whose major achievement was to destroy the happiness of many good people. His ego that has been boosted one too many times has blinded him to the fact that he had become something that was definitely not the 'Leader of the Light' persona that he so much boasted of being. He had long started seeing everyone else as nothing more than chess pieces that had to be moved by the master puppeteer for 'the Greater Good'. But what he failed to realize was that he had no right to dictate anybody else's life. Inversely, he felt he had the right to 'guide' people to the right goals.
And now, he was sat contemplating about his latest contribution towards the greater good. The management of the boy-who-lived and the way he was supposed to defeat the Dark Lord. He was utterly convinced that he knew best on how to handle this issue. Harry's fate had already been decided and for his plans to succeed, the boy should be beaten down but not broken. After his time with his relatives, the boy would be happy for a reprieve and would definitely look up to his savior, the Headmaster of his school. He would gently guide him towards his destiny, starting tomorrow. He would send Hagrid, who he had made sure would be completely loyal to him to re-introduce dear Harry to the Wizarding world. A number of small hints and light nudges and poor, dim Hagrid would do all the work and pave the way for his plans. Molly Weasley and her kids would also be essential in steering the boy towards his right path. He had no doubt in his mind that everything would fall in place. Once the poor boy was in the castle, the kindly headmaster persona would make sure of the rest. It pained him to think of the fate young harry was burdened with. But no matter, harry would do the right thing and he, as the savior of the Wizarding world would make sure of it. And so he went about carrying his plots, utterly uncaring of the feelings of those who he blatantly manipulated. After all, in his eyes, he could do no wrong at all.
The wraith living inside a fool of a man was obsessing over the young boy as well. He cursed the boy in his mind as he imagined the various methods he would use to torture the boy before he would kill him. He was disgusted with what he was reduced to become, a parasite utterly dependent on others. He was Lord Voldemort and he could never be defeated, let alone by an infant. It was a mere set back, a fluke that was blown out of proportion. He raged against the stupid sheep who fell for any fairy tale that was fed to them. He had no doubt that the interfering old coot was behind the story of the boy-who-lived. He had spoon fed the idiots an utterly insane story and they had believed him. They had believed that Lord Voldemort had been defeated. Oh, how he would enjoy ripping their world apart. Everyone would fear his wrath once he had gained his body. His followers who had abandoned him would be his first victims. No one would dare to deny him anything after he was done with them. But first, he had to obtain a body and get rid of the brat and the old man. That would be his priority and the idiot whose body he was inhabiting better be up to the challenges.
Another person was also thinking of the young boy named Harry, but there was no love towards the boy, merely a detached curiosity. After all, it was not as if the boy was her son. The plump woman with fiery red hair thought that her first priority was her family and she was tired of the money troubles that denied her children what they deserved. Her darling children would be set for life if the boy-who-lived was taken up with their family. The boy was an orphan after all and from what Albus had implied, abused as well. She was a mother and she could read between the lines very well. A few scraps of kindness, an invitation to spend some holidays and the boy would be within her grasp. It was not as if he had anything better. In fact, she was sure that she would be helping the boy as well. And her Ronald would be a perfect friend for Harry and Ginny would do nicely as Lady Potter. Yes, it was a win-win situation for everybody involved. Her husband would not approve, no doubt, so she would have to keep it a secret. But she was not overly worried. Arthur would definitely agree to invite an orphan boy into their home and it was not as if she was going out of her way to do it. It was one more mouth to feed over a few days. Besides, Albus said he would arrange for financial help for taking care of the boy. And the money would be more than enough to get her darlings a few things too. Yes, things would be improving for her family and she happily hummed away as she moved to check up on her kids.
In the same house, a young boy was dreaming of what it would be like to go to Hogwarts. He would be friends with the boy-who-lived and everybody would be jealous of him. He would be getting a nice pocket money as well, to take care of his friend. Besides, Harry would have lots of money and he would get nice things for his friend after all. And they would go on daring adventures and become popular and he would be famous. He dreamed of the feasts that would be held in his honor, once the world knew he had helped the boy-who-lived. He gave a happy sigh as he imagined the wonderful life he was going to get.
The day waned and night passed giving birth to a new, fresh day. The people of the Wizarding world went about their business having no idea that this was the day that changed it all. This was the day the young hero returned. A hero who had a much blown-up image of himself. A hero who would smash all the pre-conceived notions. A hero, who would grow up from a scared, timid, albeit intelligent boy into a figure worthy to be woven tales around, a figure that would inspire History. A hero who would have the guts to put his name, body and soul on the line to right the wrongs. A hero who would ultimately bring happiness to the people who deserved to be happy. The Wizarding world would change today without knowing it.