A Bond of Blood
By GallifreyanMaiden
A/N- This fic is, in part, a tribute to two fics on Potions and Snitches that I found absolutely enchanting; 'Win The War: Consanguinity' by Luna Carmesi as well as 'My Brother, My Hero' by harrysnapefan. If you like this fic, I would encourage you to take a look at these two as well.
Chapter One- Truths Uncovered
…
Spring
For Petunia Dursley, the most magical (although she would certainly not approve of the use of that word) time of the year was not Christmas, which was largely ruined for her by the mess of snow and pine needles being tracked into her clean home; nor was it, perish the thought, Halloween, which reminded her all too much of her freaky sister (as if having to house her brat wasn't reminder enough)…No, for Petunia Dursley, the day she looked forward to without end was the first warm, clear day of spring, for it was on that day that she would clean the attic.
Most would consider Petunia Dursley's attic more than tolerably clean. Indeed, the Dursley attic would put most others in the neighborhood to shame by comparison. However, Petunia saw flaws where others would not; the dust gathering in the corners, the stale air, the sheer amount of useless garbage that had begun to creep up on her (again, not impressive by the standards of her neighbors). Petunia Dursley took pride in every corner of her suburban utopia being spotless…it was, indeed, her number one priority. She smiled brightly as she threw open the windows, letting in the sweet-smelling spring air and the watery morning sun
Hours passed uneventfully. Petunia scrubbed viciously at the floors, wearing her rarely-seen jeans and a bleach-stained blouse, her shoulder-length blonde hair tied up in a scarf. Each patch of floor received equal, meticulous attention- by the time she had finished with the floor, the room smelt strongly of bleach and the sun was high in the sky. Wiping her hands on her pants, Petunia climbed down the attic steps and ate a quick lunch at the pristine kitchen table.
When she returned to the attic, she decided that it would be best if she went through the safe where the family kept all of their important documents. She hadn't bothered to go though it in a while- not since Dudley had applied to Smeltings…not since he and the boy were in primary school before that. She would need those papers for Dudders once he began applying to university. Besides that, she decided, she wanted all of the boy's things in one place- the last thing she wanted was something of his left in her house once he finally left for good.
Petunia opened the safe and began to sort the papers into piles; Dudley, Dudley, Vernon, herself, Vernon, Dudley, the boy, herself…
But something wasn't right.
That didn't look like a birth certificate.
She held up Dudley's birth certificate, her mouth forming a tiny, perfect 'o'.
This was quite wonderful…like a great many holidays at once, only without all of that horrid mess.
Petunia held the papers for quite a long time, not knowing what to do with the information that she had so often wished for. Fantasies and wishes were one matter…having your dearest dream fall into your lap was quite another.
The boy did not need to be her problem.
She could pass him off to someone else.
And it would all be entirely above board.
This was different form sending him off to an orphanage- oh, she and Vernon had considered it, briefly, when he had been dropped on their door step almost fifteen years ago, but had almost immediately dismissed it, as it might cause the neighbors to talk. In a bad situation (in a terrible, horrid situation) they had ultimately decided that the course that made them look charitable was best.
But this…if the neighbors got wind of this they could simply say, "Oh, it hurt, of course. We raised the boy like he was our own, you know. But, well, in the end, we just didn't think that it was right to keep him from his proper family."
Yes indeed, the fact that Harry Potter was adopted was the best bit of luck that had fallen into Petunia's lap in a long while.
She could have smacked herself for never having looked through his papers more closely; but when he was dumped with them, they'd been given nothing but an address. When she'd needed to enroll the boys in primary school, she'd just sent a curt note telling them to send a copy of his birth certificate to the school. They had sent her a copy as well and she'd thrown it in here, barely sparing it a glance, promptly forgetting about it.
Until now.
Petunia busied herself with work to burn off her nervous energy until Vernon came home. The attic was cleaner than it had ever been.
She ran to the front door when she heard her husband coming in and shoved the paper into his chest with enough force to make him release a little 'oomph'.
"Read it," she said as she bounced back and forth on her heels, her voice almost hysterical.
Vernon Dursley was initially rather concerned for his wife. She rarely showed this much naked enthusiasm for anything, let alone random bits of yellowing paper. It was obviously important to her, though, so, to placate her, he read…and as he read, his face slowly transitioned to shock and then from shock to unbridled glee.
"We can get rid of him?"
…
Summer
Vernon waited for his nephew outside Platform 9 ¾, between platforms 9 and 10, a nasty grin on his face.
That grin widened as he saw the scrawny teenager push the trolley with his trunk and owl atop it into the general chaos of King's Cross. Grabbing the trolley and pushing it quickly towards the exit, he shouted gruffly over his shoulder, "Come on, boy, haven't got all day."
His uncle's strange behavior snapped Harry out of his lethargic state and put him on guard. Something was about to happen and he very much doubted he would like it. Harry just managed to grab Hedwig's cage before his uncle carelessly tossed his trunk into the car. She gave an indignant hoot, to which he responded with a mild glare. This was no time for her nonsense.
"What are you waiting for, boy?" shouted Vernon, "Get in the bloody car."
Harry got in the car, albeit reluctantly…he had the most curious feeling that he was walking towards the gallows.
Harry tensed as they drove…before, he hadn't been able to put his finger on what felt odd, but now, at last, there was something he could put a name to.
"You're not driving towards Little Whinging," he murmured, beginning to sweat.
Vernon only laughed, he laughed like he was going mad. Once he recovered himself enough to speak, he replied, "Observant, aren't you? No, we're not going back to Surry. We're actually going to a town in Manchester…Do you know why that is, boy?" he asked, continuing in his cruel laughter.
"No," answered Harry warily, not liking this at all.
Harry began to feel sick at the unbridled look of glee spreading across his uncle's face,"Because Petunia found an absolutely lovely little form that says you are not our problem anymore," Harry felt truly nauseous, "I may have it framed," he said airily.
Harry struggled to breathe. He felt as if a dozen hippogriffs were piled atop his chest.
"I-I don't understand," he finally managed to stammer weakly.
Vernon's smile was more foul than ever, "You were adopted, boy, and your real father never agreed to it. He can take you back if he wants to…which he does. Petunia happened to know him when she was growing up. Quite the stroke of luck, actually…"
"You-you can't do this," Harry said desperately trying to make his voice sound braver than he felt, "I can't leave-"
"Bollocks," Vernon replied carelessly, as he honked at another driver who had cut him off, "You know, I've always thought that there was something fishy about your lot, boy. Dropping you on your good, hard-working relatives. Petunia and I have talked and we've decided that all of this blood wards whosey-whatsit was just a load tripe that your friends told us to make sure that we didn't ship you off to some orphanage."
Harry paled considerably. So this was really happening, then. Not even the abject terror that the Dursleys felt for most wizards would keep them from shipping him off to some random bloke who had agreed to take him. Harry's mouth set in a thin line. The Dursleys had been no picnic…but someone new? Sure, his 'father' could easily be better (the competition wasn't exactly stiff), but that was never really his luck, now was it?
"Wha- how- who is- Please tell me this is a joke," he finally said, desperately hoping that Vernon was just looking to add psychological torture to his repertoire as well.
Vernon only gave a repugnant chortle in response.
"Who is he?" Harry barely whispered. Lily and James Potter had always been his parents. True, they had always been dead as well…but those pictures…the stories from Remus and (he swallowed a hard lump that had formed in his throat) Sirius. He always felt like he knew them. He always felt that, however briefly, he'd been loved.
Vernon shrugged, as if the man he would be leaving his nephew with was of little importance, "Some bloke who worked at the mill Petunia's dad managed. Tobias Snape, I think it was. Bloody funny name if you ask me. He's not one of your lot, though."
In a daze, Harry shook his head. A Snape. He would be a bloody Snape…he could only hope that he wouldn't be related to that Snape. He shuddered. Even his luck wasn't that awful. They pulled up in front of a house that appeared to have been built sometime in the forties and then largely left to its own devices. It was quite the sight…perhaps not as bad as the Shrieking Shack, but certainly on its way.
"Here we are boy!" said Vernon, practically pushing him out of the car, only stopping long enough to ensure that his trunk was resting beside him on the sidewalk. His tires squealed as he drove away; leaving no evidence of his ever having been there at all, save for a gaping nephew and a set of impressive skid marks.
Harry stayed that way, on the sidewalk, gaping, with his trunk and owl, until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He supposed that it was meant to be comforting. Harry turned to look into the man's weather-beaten, severe face; with his iron-gray hair, hooked nose and heavy, protruding brow, one could not deny that he was imposing. But, to Harry, at least, he also seemed a bit stuck. Tobias stood awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, seemingly entirely unsure of how to go about this.
"Well, kid…" he said, finally, apparently having decided to go for the straightforward approach, his voice low and rough from disuse, "Hello. I'm Tobias." His thick, gray eyebrows knitted together self-consciously as he extended a densely calloused hand for Harry to shake.
...
A/N- Let me know what you think!