The Ghosts and Mr Scrooge Chapter 1: My Confession, a harry potter fanfic

Summary: Sequel to Old Scrooge, Tiny Tim's Wish, and Scrooge Versus the Mistletoe. The legend of Harry Potter is about to be found out by a most desperate Wizarding World, and not even Severus can save Harry from becoming his own man. Will Severus be able to stand the new version of His Harry? Severus POV.

a/n: This will be longer than all the rest, and I'm not sure how long that exactly is. If you enjoy this, tell me so with a review, perdy please.

"Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-
stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping,
scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and
sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out
generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary
as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features,
nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek,
stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue;
and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice."

- A Christmas Carol, Stave 1: Marley's Ghost

-.-

T h e G H O S T S & M r. S C R O O G E

He is nervous; I can sense it as he stands next to me. There is not much I can do to help but wrap my arm tighter around his shoulders and offer a whispered bit of encouragement.

He is so frail under my touch, I cannot believe he is so young. He is too young for this, to be sure, but it's what's been doled out to him by the high-and-mighty one. I myself know the story of destiny and all the wonders it brings, joyous and horrifying. I do wish for all of his horror taken care of now, after his surgery and recovery.

The wonders.

My breath and his visibly mix in the chilled air outside the hospital, and that rather than the cold makes me shiver.

Never have I felt such positive excitement, apart from my reunion with my Harry. We are together now for keeps and I almost feel exhilarated enough to ignore my duties at Hogwarts. But, I have no wish for Albus to come looking for me either. His capacity for disappointment is great enough to fell a giant.

For keeps.

My Harry curls into my side with a gentle sigh, and I feel myself melt again because of him. When did I become such a feeling person? When and why?

Can one person cause this, this... new penchant for caring? When was the last time the surly Potions master was kind enough to worry for someone other than himself? This is the question I have tried to answer for the whole while of being frozen nearly to bone on the street.

The question.

My Harry stands next to me, just waiting for me to point out the right direction, and I have none to give! If I am so unused to caring, then why do these challenges come for me and no one else? How can others care so easily and receive love in such large amounts but have obstacles so minute when compared to mine? I have tried, why do I not receive the same as them? Forgetting my offences, why am I the doomed one?

So easily.

"Severus?" questions my Harry, and I glance down without moving my head.

"Hm?" replies I with a false air of aloofness.

"Which way are we going?" My Harry looks left and right as if there might be some sign with the words 'this way to your new life.'

In my mind, I cringe, but outside I glance back up at the busy streets, hoping that I will catch a glimpse of that very same sign. Left or right, which is the way to go?

Down the right lane were beggars, and to the left, wealth sparkled from the washed windows. Which is better, the dangerous, accepting path, or the safe but alien one? Hmm, why not? I have stood those stares before, have I not? Between those stares and informing my Harry of the concept of magic, this should be a relatively terrible morning.

Those stares.

I prepare for the worst as I turn to the left lane.

"Excuse me," rumbles someone from behind.

Turning, I see that is Kingsley, the former Auror, who is trying for my attention, and I send a scowl to show my displeasure at seeing him. Albus will have sent him after me, that much is for sure. That man spends far too much of his time appeasing that ol' one-eyed monster, Moody. I can only imagine what the man accuses me of while I am away and injured. Proper manners were never his forte, in my experience.

"Yes?" growls I with my fierce tone.

"Ah, I thought it was you, Severus. Been a while," hints Kingsley, though only I understand his meaning.

"Yes, well..." says I unhelpfully.

I notice that Kingsley isn't ruffled by my reply. Damn man never seems shaken by anything, surprising or not.

"Everyone's been asking after you," nudges the man a little farther.

The probability of anyone other than Albus actually being concerned is slim, and I narrow my eyes at Kingsley for even suggesting otherwise.

"I bet they are," is my reply, stiff and stony.

"The work building's pipes sprung a leak," continues he cryptically, and I unconsciously lean forward to hear more. "They're searching for the source, but there's been no luck. If the... leak isn't patched up soon," his voice becomes perceptibly more serious, "then the place'll have to be shut down permanently."

I am set to Apparate right then and there for the man surely is speaking of Hogwarts, but I catch myself with an awkward glance down at Harry, still under my arm. My fingers itch to grab my wand and simply spout the entire story without stopping for breath, though not being a fan of babbling idiots, I stop before I can allow myself such shame.

Entire story.

Harry gives me an inquisitorial kind of look, and I long to have the moment over and done with. Somewhat thankfully, I hear Kingsley clear his throat deliberately.

Done with.

Kingsley gestures to Harry, and my arm tightens just slightly, as if he may be taken from me.

"A friend of yours, Severus?" asks he, and from only one other person would I believe the question sincere and not a joke at my expense.

Reluctantly I introduce my lover.

"This is Harry," says I simply, daring him to judge me.

To only half my surprise, he does not appear to do so. He gives a polite nod to my Harry and says his name as well.

"Will Harry be joining us at... ah, work?" asks he of me.

"Yes," replies I with a tone of finality, and I see my Harry smile beside me.

"I was just heading there myself... shall we go together?" questions Kingsley, gesturing down the rich man's street.

My Harry tugs on the back of my coat, and I glance down to see him nod excitedly. I force my sigh to be quiet since I know I cannot refuse him even the smallest bit of happiness so early after leaving the hospital. He makes me so weak-willed; my younger self would not recognize me now. In fact, I fear it would balk at me if it had the chance.

"Yes, we shall travel together. First, however, we must find somewhere quiet to... discuss some things."

"Of course," agrees Kingsley. "I believe there is a pub down here... the Leaky Cauldron, if I'm not mistaken."

"Terrific," mutters I, and Harry frowns lightly.

I nudge him a little to get him moving, and we are off. Kingsley, my Harry, and I make an odd trio going up the street. There are a few decorations still up around the town proclaiming a Happy New Year to all. The sight is absolutely sickening, but my Harry seems to enjoy it immensely. His first time out of that place in years and I must be the one to ruin it with tales of magic he is surely not to believe of me.

Enjoy it.

Perhaps I should wait... No, no, I know that to be a very unwise thing to do. He will surely call me on it later, if I were to do such a thing as postponing the inevitable. Any sensible person would, of course.

Sparkling jewels, short skirts, and sneers were not to be missed from any direction. I sneer right back at them, but I do not have the clothes or hair to back it up with. They may have material reasons for their haughtiness, but I use the knowledge that I am a superior fighter and ten times stronger than those I see who disapprove of me. I have absolutely no problem believing myself five floors higher than anyone within sight; the sacrifices I've made have got to be worth something, and that is it. My own personal glory will suffice for now.

Personal glory.

I notice that Harry is having trouble hiding his gawking. It is not the most appealing of expressions, but since he is new to the world again, I don't think now is the time to correct him.

Correct him.

This world will not even exist for him soon. Being so far removed from the action of the Muggle world, he will have little to compare to the magical one. He shall catch on very quickly this way, that I am sure of.

I will perform for him a few spells to prove magic to him, encourage his sanity for good measure, and then I shall tackle whatever trouble there is at the castle. Surely, things could not have gotten so terrible within so little time. It most surely will seem horrendous to the more simple wizards of the castle, but McGonagall is more than capable of calming the teachers and, in turn, the students. The absolute worst would be an overthrow of the place, but I know Albus to have more sense than to wait before calling for help from every single person he possibly could, both human and creature.

"Here we are," comments Kingsley with the quick point of a finger.

The sign is creaking more than usual, and the windows looked dirtier than they have ever been. I am sure there is something different about the place since I have last seen it only weeks ago. I simply cannot put my finger on what exactly is off, however.

Only weeks.

My Harry is clutching my coat a bit tighter as if he can feel something wrong as well, even though that is absolutely preposterous. I catch a frown on Kingsley's face as he reaches for the door handle but stops just short of touching it. He senses it too.

Bit tighter.

I shiver and feel Harry do the same. Kingsley pulls out his wand, and I make no move to stop him. Holding Harry with my left arm, I also find my weapon.

Feel Harry.

Breath. I see Kingsley's before mine and know that the creatures must be inside the pub itself where witches and wizards are meant to be conversing and indulging.

"Close your eyes," commands I in the next second, and I do not look down to be sure.

Kingsley gives me a nod and pops out of sight. I am gone a moment later in the blink of an eye.