A/N: The hardest thing to do in this story was write the first chapter. Which is surprising, because I've written a dozen different versions. To be honest, I don't like any of them. I think the problem is that this is the book where the storyline begins to skew. I made the assumption in this story that Dumbledore would hold the Tri-Wizard Tournament because it isn't about the Boy-Who-Lived, regardless of whom that boy is. The tournament is about securing allies. Meeting, building ties between the schools, hoping they hold once the dark lord resurfaces. After this book, the story can become anything. This is the last book where the groundwork for the next war is being laid. The rest of the story is about each side maneuvering before the final battle. This is the first chapter of a story that seems to parallel the original in its framework yet it is a story that departs more and more from the original tale it was based on. And so, I try to change things while keeping them the same.
And so I present the first chapter. Before I post this however, I will make a few changes. Again.
Prelude: A Bedtime Story
He had heard a noise. Noise was common in a house full of children. As a father, he had learned to filter out most of them as not needing anything done. It was the unusual noises, the unexpected ones, that always caught his attention. And he had heard the noise. Low but penetrating. Barely audible but with a sharpness that made it noticeable. It was a noise he had heard before, three or four times. It meant that his eldest son was having one of his seizures.
These weren't violent seizures, as an epileptic might have. They were discomfortingly mild. The boy would stare at nothing in particular. He would mumble random words. The last time, they almost seemed to make sense. But . . . There's that word. That word is always there. But . . . that had been almost a year ago. That time, the boy had said something that sounded like water. Every other noise he made during that (fortunately short) seizure had sounded garbled, as though he was trying to cough with something in his mouth. The father was not worried. Then.
Two weeks later, they were at the beach. The boy was hit by a sudden wave. He went under the water. The father, who found himself watching, noticed the boy did not come up. He shouted for help as he ran across the sand. Swimmers in the area started searching at once. Less than a minute after he went under, the boy was on the sand coughing up water. The father remembered the sounds from the bedroom a fortnight earlier.
Tonight he heard the noise again. He ran up the stairs to the first bedroom, opening the door but not turning on the light. He did that the very first time and the boy screamed. He did that the second time and learned not to do it again.
The father looked at his son. The boy was sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead. It was as though he were waiting for someone to come. This time there were no noises or rambling words. It was a poem. A limerick. The boy liked limericks.
"He came to the bow bells / and that's how his tongue tells / He must command/ I give my hand / that's where our future dwells."
The boy smiled and lay back down. A moment later, he was asleep again. The father was frowning. It was the same kind of seizure except his son was coherent, almost normal. But . . . There we are again. That same word. It tells us always that things are not as simple as they seem. Yes, the boy recited a poem, a limerick in fact, while sitting up in bed and while being sound asleep. That is strange enough. But. And the reason for this 'but' is that the boy spoke in a foreign accent and spoke as though it was completely natural.
The father was no fool. And the poem was easy enough to remember. He returned downstairs and went to his study. As he powered up his computer, his wife walked in. He repeated the poem for her. He went online and typed in the words "bow bells" into the search engine. His wife agreed that it seemed like a good place to start. He pressed enter.
The first site that came up was one of English nursery rhymes. He clicked onto the link and came face to face with a poem called Oranges and Lemons.
"Oranges and Lemons" say the Bells of St. Clements / "You owe me five farthings" say the bells of St. Martins / "When will you pay me?" say the bells of Old Bailey / "When I grow rich" say the bells of Shoreditch / "When will that be?" say the bells of Stepney / "I do not know" say the Great Bells of Bow.
It was the wife who read the closing lines. "Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head. Chip chop chip chop the last man's dead."
That was enough to scare them. To have your child spout apparent nonsense is normal. To find out it has meaning is another. They backed out of the site and returned to the list. One item said "born within the sounds of bow bells." It was a site about British phrases and their origins.
"He came to London," the wife said in understanding.
They looked at each other. Their son had made an obscure reference to the city of London (at least it was an obscure reference in Boston) in his sleep.
"Makes sense now," the husband replied. When she asked, he explained. The boy had spoken in a perfect English accent.
There was no more to do. It was a mystery that led nowhere, although it did imply one thing. Kidnaping. Their son would be kidnaped by an Englishman. At least that was the initial fear.
Then came the phone call. It was late at night, late enough for children to be in bed but not yet for adults. The father picked up the phone. It was the Dean from the university where he taught. The board decided they liked the idea: An American professor goes to England and teaches American history from his point of view. An English professor goes to America and does the same. The board also wanted stability, a family man who wouldn't embarrass them. The father would be asked tomorrow if he wanted to spend a year abroad.
The father laughed after he closed the phone. He knew what the poem meant. He would be the man taking his son, and he would take him to London.
Chapter One: In The Beginning
To: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry
From: Bartemius Crouch, Minister for Magic
Re: The rehabilitation of the Death Eater offspring, Draco Malfoy
Headmaster,
While I do have the highest respect for your abilities, I must conclude that your suggested efforts that Draco Malfoy be treated in a gentle fashion have come to nought. Instead of the boy becoming more compliant with his situation, the reverse has been the case. One student has died as a result of interacting with this boy. This incident occurred in such a way as to confuse everyone as to exactly what happened. Despite your assurances, I cannot dismiss out of hand the strong possibility that such an action was planned with these exact results in mind. Nor can I accept the boy's simple and convenient statement that he recalls nothing.
I will admit that the Nott family is under suspicion, particularly since the father disappeared shortly before he was to be questioned about certain illegal artifacts, but that in itself does not give credence to the Malfoy boy's statement. It is obvious that a firmer hand should be applied.
I have already informed his legal guardian, Sirius Black, that the boy's planned visit with a wizarding family is to be cancelled. The Malfoy boy is to have limited and, if possible, no contact with magic or any persons of magic during the period of his summer holiday. Sirius Black has also been directed that the boy be engaged in some form of employment in order to occupy his time and to promote a respect for those who need to work for their living. This employment is to be with muggles. The preference is that these muggles should not have had any prior contact with the boy, or minimal contact. He is not to be employed by anyone he is familiar with.
For the upcoming school year, all privileges are to be suspended. He is not to be permitted any extracurricular activities. This includes not only Hogsmeade weekends and attendance at the various tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament but to the special tutoring classes he has with at least two of the teachers. Also, he is to be restrained in his habits of visiting various teachers and other staff. These are distractions that he does not need. Finally, all teachers and staff are to watch and observe the boy at all times. They are also to correct him immediately should they see him behaving in an improper manner. If there is any doubt, it would be best if the boy is assumed to be guilty. A few unwarranted detentions will only reinforce the knowledge that he will not be permitted to get away with anything.
It will be interesting to see how the boy reacts to these measures. I am sure the results of using a firm hand will vindicate me.
To: Bartemius Crouch, Minister for Magic
From: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Re: The rehabilitation of the student, Draco Malfoy
Minister.
I understand your position and I do know what you are trying to do for the boy. Please be assured that Draco Malfoy will be kept under observation as much as is humanly possible as long as it is not to the deterrence of the other students. This has always been the case with Draco since his arrival because of the unique circumstances of his personal history.
I cannot acquiesce to your request that Draco be restrained from extra curricular activities specifically because this would single him out from the other students without good reason. If his attitude is such that I can warrant such an action as appropriate, I will do so. If he maintains good behavior, however, I will be forced to let him attend any and all activities.
As for the subject of visits with staff, I would ask you to reconsider this point. The two staff members he visits with most often are the Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, and our Potions professor, Severus Snape. I do not need to remind you of the help that Professor Snape gave us in the last war. His chief concern is to guide Draco along the proper path. Also, he has made it a point to keep me informed of what occurs at each meeting. This is helpful, as Draco does consider "Uncle Severus" to be a confidant. I also am informed by Rubeus Hagrid of what is discussed at what has become a weekly affair of meeting Friday afternoons for tea. In case you are interested to know, most of these conversations revolve around Quidditch and homework. Rubeus Hagrid has also been known to convince Draco to help with certain projects because of their friendship. Had you not insisted on muggle employment, I would have suggested hiring Draco as his assistant.
You should also know that Draco's visits are rarely private affairs. He has visited with as many as five other students accompanying him. But Draco is the impetus. Thus, I am also asking you to reconsider this point not for Draco's sake but for the other students who have become involved in these affairs.
If I can be of any service to you in any other way, please do not hesitate to ask.
To: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry
From: Bartemius Crouch, Minister for Magic
Re: The restriction of privileges
Headmaster,
I admire your careful wording concerning extra curricular activities and I admit you are correct. I am also confident that the boy in question will give you sufficient cause to forbid him anything up to and including attendance at Hogwarts.
I am hesitant to agree to your request concerning visits with the staff, but I will do so with the understanding that I will receive detailed reports about all meetings and what was discussed. If any staff member declines to make such a report then it would be best if that person had no contact with the boy outside the regular course of his duties.
I will be curious to learn what is said if the boy continues to meet with his godfather.