This is, by far, the most researched story I've ever started. I actually went as far to go to my uni-library, to borrow some more facts of the Soviet Union (which I have no more memories about, except for my dad saying, well... all goes up that goes down), and do historical research of what exactly happened. The author of Sovjetunionen och det Nya Ryssland (The Soviet Union and the New Russia), Staffan Skott carried a very Swedish perspective. So I hope within this story, I can only make Russia right by all traditions and more, and if anyone knows more about this time period in Russia, feel more than free to send me any kind of message so we can all make this story justice.
This story has not always been easy to write, considering my Russian is practically limited to around 0 words without the use of online dictionaries. My personal knowledge of the world outside my own country is situated to the central and western parts of Europe and further east to Russia's neighbour China.
Since this will be, without a doubt, my last story (perhaps series of stories, depending on how well this goes and how much time I can spare), I hope you all enjoy it.
Dobreviche!
Harry Potter and The Society of the Red Star
Prologue
Vernon Dursley is not what you would call a believer. He does not believe in God, or any mystical higher power. He does not believe in ghost, or anything out of the occult. Neither, will he ever consider the possibilities that the man beside you, you know, that strange man that dresses in a fur coat and top hat in the middle of May, would be nothing more or less than a complete nut-case. No, what he believes in, or more or less, all he believes in are things such as money, wealth and family, in short, it has nothing to do with such things as religious bogus, magical tricks or strange occurrences... is this some kind of a joke?
You see, he lives a pretty simple life. He has a wife, a career, and a beautiful baby boy. So why is it, that very fateful day, that same day he met his future wife, his life would take a turn for the unthinkable. See, several years ago as he met this charming, sweet, lovely lady. She kind of reminded him about his aunt Mathilda, a woman who was prim and proper yet never would hurt a fly. This young girl's name was Petunia Evans, and would you know the irony of it, he met her at a garden party.
About six years from now (to date), they had a small baby boy, they named Dudley, and he was their one and most valuable treasure. Vernon spent many thoughts of how perfect their son would be, with a nice, lovely mother as Petunia and a strong, wealthy and smart father as himself.
Yes, indeed, his life was perfect, almost too perfect. And guess what, perfection sometimes comes with a price.
At that party he discovered that his darling Petunia had a younger sister, Lily Evans, who too had married and later had a young boy, Harry (what a ghastly name). On Halloween, you know, that day when children play their idiotic Trick or Treat games, they went and blew themselves up.
Yes, it came as a shock to hear it, but personally he was relieved to know he would never have to worry finding them magically appear by their house, through fireplaces, from the air, riding what-do-you-call-it-again... oh yeah, broomsticks. As if their lot shouldn't be modern enough to have adapted to hovers by now? Then again, did he really care? No...
On that night, between October 31 and November 1, they found their so-called nephew wrapped in a bundle at their front step. With him was a letter, that said:
Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley
In the light of the terrible passing of your beloved sister and her husband whom we all sorely miss, we of the wizarding community would beg of you to help and aid us in raising young, little Harry until the day he turns 17. Harry had the misfortune of witnessing the death of both his parents being murdered by our times most horrible wizard, yet survived a curse that should have killed him, but rebounded upon his caster. While chances are slim, he might still be in more danger to come, therefore you, Petunia Dursley, as the sister and only blood relative to his mother, whose love saved her son from death, can be the only one to withhold the magical protection that keeps him safe. As we do not know yet whether he may still be out there, waiting to kill him, please, take good care of little Harry and raise him well. One day, he will be ready to rejoin our society, but that day is not now.
Yours Sincerely
Albus Percival Wulfric Bryan Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
After this years came and went. All though he personally hated the idea of having one of those things under his roof, Petunia, for some reason, had to keep the boy. They kept him safe, or, kept him under surveillance, either by themselves or the old, senile hag with the cats down the street. They fed him, but only the exact amount that they could spare, and no more than that. They gave him their son's clothes, once he didn't want them any more and hoped if they would ignore him long enough, he would simply just disappear.
But as the years passed slowly, that never happened and the fear something would come still gnawed him slowly. He knew, with such a thing in the house his life would never be safe again. And he waited slowly for a moment in which his wife would finally come to his senses and throw that foolish thing out!
Unfortunately, nothing like that seemed to ever happen, and as Dudley's sixth' birthday approached, little did Vernon know that five days before this lively event, something would happen to change their lives, Harry's life and much of what-could-have-beens forever. And this has nothing to do with the return of the strange man, known only by signature, Albus Dumbledore, no, five days before Dudley turned 6, smoke appeared.
It was five days before their perfect, flawless son turned a year older, that they had to temporarily leave the house. To make sure all the furniture and belongings stayed safe, they locked the small boy into the cupboard under the stairs for safe keeping until they'd come back. You see, Mrs Morris, a woman who lived on her own with a son a few houses away, had phoned them the night before and been very keen on knowing how her little boy, Thomas, had gotten a black eye the other day. She blamed Dudley for this, saying her son had told her how the demonic child had punched him, for not giving him his favourite space warrior-toy, while Petunia had heard from Dudley, that Thomas had hurt himself by falling off the tree they had played in. Since Mrs Morris was a very big woman with a loud, booming voice, Petunia had asked Vernon to go with her, to make sure they defended Dudley with all honour and pride that only the Durlsey's could.
The day was fairly warm and cloudless. Earlier in the eve, the daily news had forecast clear weather overnight, and nothing, absolutely nothing greyish to appear for at least another few days. The discussion between both parents had been rather fierce, in which Mrs Morris, regardless of the fact that she was divorced and had no one to lean on, could easily defend her son from both adults and feared no man when it came to her son's well being.
Petunia Dursley had been leaning on Vernon for support, feigning near faint, when Mrs Morris suddenly gasped and pointed at the direction of their house. Both Dursleys looked back, and were shocked to see a pillar of smoke rising from their house. Ignoring the events that came before, all three hurried back to hopefully rescue some of their belongings.
Vernon Dursley, Petunia stayed behind to keep Dudley safe, stumbled into the hallway, and when he noticed neither smoke or heat, he grabbed the vase of flowers and hoped to put the fire out, because he guessed it couldn't be very big then if he didn't see any flames. He hurried into the kitchen, and dropped the vase in anger. The refrigerator had been blown up, and little Harry stood behind the kitchen door (somewhat squashed and confused as he had been standing behind it when Vernon Dursley almost kicked it open), holding a chicken leg in his hand.
The man was more than enraged; he was furious. And when Petunia entered the kitchen, wondering what was happening, she broke into tears.
Rage built with the man's chest and exploded in a fury of spit and curses.
"Haven't we been good to you, boy? Haven't we given you food, dressed you, allowed you to live beneath our roof? Why, you snivelling, little thief do you steal our food then?" Vernon yelled at the young boy.
Harry was close to tears, and gave a simple reply.
"But, you didn't give me any dinner, and I was hungry... Sir."
And, while Petunia took Dudley back to his room, and distracted him for the rest of the evening by playing with him, Vernon forced Harry into his home study. There, he took a thick leather belt, told Harry to take of his shirt, and beat him until the boy was out cold on the floor.
They didn't give him any dinner for the remainder of the week. Yet, once they had calmed down from the hysteria of the events that passed, true fear finally started to sink in, even to Petunia who at this point had been rather protective of him. One night, as they prepared to go to bed, she put her fear into words.
Brushing her hair from her eyes she spoke softly.
"Vernon, I am frightened. What if the boy tries something like that again? Oh Vernon, he is so powerful, just like them, what if he breaks out? How will they react, will they come and kill us? Considering how we treat the boy, what if he tries to kill us? Oh, Vernon, he scares me."
Vernon Dursley, who had just laid down to his side to sleep was fully awakened by this statement, oh, he had longed for so long to finally hear those words, and decided it was finally time to get his will into action. Carefully, he chose his words.
"Yes dear, the boy is a danger. I am very certain that he will grow up to be very much alike that wretched father of his."
"His mother used to be such a dear before they found her, what do you think?"
"Brainwashed her, like they did during the war. Made her believe she was superior to all of us, but you know what they say, we are all equal." He snorted at the last.
"Vernon, don't!" Petunia said. "But I wish I knew what to do."
"Petunia, you know I've always respected your wish to look after your sister's blood, but with those hooligans almost at our door and with Dudley, is this really safe? Do you want Dudley to grow up in such fear? Do you want to find out one day your nephew accidentally killed you son?"
Petunia bit her lower lip hard. Her eyes were wide yet unfocused. For another few minutes they said nothing, and laid down together. She felt utterly cold, as if she had just betrayed a dear friend's trust and loyalty.
"He must go" Vernon said slowly and softly, and she barely heard it first. It was this Vernon Dursley wanted to say from the very beginning.
Petunia shook awake.
"Go? But where could we send him? Who would ever want him?"
He was silent for a moment, considering the best of the options he had concluded over the years.
"Soviet."
"What?"
"Soviet, Petunia. We can send him to the Soviet Union. Remember my old German associate, Hans Adler. He has a branch of his company that works with stray animals in Soviet, turning animals into food. He always need help in that branch, I am sure he could find something for the boy to do. And if we send him out of the country, those things shouldn't be able to find him. And we don't have to tell him what he is. There are enough freaks East, he'll fit perfectly among them. We'll be free from him."
"But..."
"Petunia, the boy will destroy us if we keep him. Neither of us will be able to leave the house, and Dudley is not safe. This is the perfect plan."
Petunia laid down beside her husband, doubt clung to her heart, but the idea of getting rid of the boy was appealing. But then it struck her.
"Vernon, they know where we live. What if they come looking for him and discover what we've done?"
"Then we'll move as well." He turned around to face her. "I've got a potential business partner in Dover. I was thinking of turning him down, but perhaps I ought not. We could all go there, and none of them will ever know."
Petunia nodded slightly, but she still wasn't sure she fully liked the idea. After all, a part of her would always remind her that there was a reason she had decided to keep the boy from the start.
Note: Please do not ask me to upload quickly. I am a full-time university student with little time on my hands, updates can take weeks at the worst of times. I hope you all, however, will enjoy the story. And finally, if anyone who has started reading this story knows Russian/ Russian cultures, I will be very pleased if you could tell me more about your country, as this entire story is planned to partake in Russia. Books can only take me thus far.