Summary: Albus Dumbledore has taken the motto of 'For the Greater Good.' If sacrificing just one child can save thousands of lives, surely it is only logical and rational to do so. He cares for Harry Potter, of course, but it's for the Greater Good, - isn't it?
This story is the first in the Sacrifice Series. It begins in the Summer after Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. There are variations to Canon from a few days after the end of the Triwizard Tournament.
Terminology: Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind, (at least in my stories) Aniragi is the ancient language, and an Aniragia is a wizarding area such as Diagon Alley.
Warning: The story contains an account of rape. Although not a cheerful story, it does not end badly. M rated for mature readers.
Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world is owned by J. K. Rowling. Some ideas have been borrowed from fanfiction writers, such as that the Potters were an old Pureblood family, and the detail of 'Freak' cut into the child's chest.
**
Chapter 1:
Albus Dumbledore studied the words of two prophecies, the original, and the one that Sybil Trelawney had suddenly proclaimed in the middle of dinner. It was the Summer school holidays, so luckily, only he, Trelawney, Filch and Snape had been present. Both Filch and Snape were totally loyal to him, and as Trelawney never had any memory of her rare true prophecies, it could be kept very quiet. The original prophecy regarding Harry Potter had been published in the Daily Prophet just days after the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. Days after the boy's blood had been used in the magic that had returned Voldemort to a human body, and by all accounts, a perfectly functional human body.
The original Prophecy: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches - born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the 7th month dies.............and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not....and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives....the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the 7th month dies.
Prophecies were often ambiguous, and experts disagreed as to the exact meaning of this one. Dumbledore had known the Prophecy for many years, and it had always seemed clear that the boy must be groomed to face Voldemort, whether or not he died doing so. He'd had it in mind for a very long time. It was why the orphaned toddler had been placed with the Dursleys who didn't want him, even with subconscious suggestions implanted that they were to instil in the child the conviction that he was worthless, - a freak.
He'd stopped the uncle from physically abusing him once he was eight, after the child had fronted a policeman and coolly asked to go to an orphanage instead please. He'd healed the scars then, as well, - the whip scars and the knife scars. Not the emotional scars. They served a purpose. The deep feeling of worthlessness instilled would make him that much more likely to be willing to take on the burden, - even if it meant his own death.
It was hard to know how much the child remembered of that early abuse, - he'd never spoken of it as far as Dumbledore knew, - not to anyone, though each Summer, he'd begged not to return. Each time, Dumbledore had kindly explained that he had to return, for his own protection. He always showed his 'genial grandfather' face to Harry, who was starved for the affection and caring of an adult. That image served Dumbledore so well. He was viewed as omniscient, benign, caring. He was the wise old leader of the Side of Light. Mind-Magic helped, of course, and he was an expert. His wand was always in his sleeve, as, although he could work the magic without a verbal incantation, it was not one of the few things he could do without a wand. Magic to ensure loyalty, magic so that people did not question, magic so that people believed in his wisdom. Even when his decisions turned out badly, they were apt to think that he had a hidden objective, or that lesser people were simply not privy to all the facts.
Dumbledore was quite happy with his weapon at that point. The boy had courage enough. That was certain. It had been a surprise that he'd tried to refuse to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, but a few days in the Hospital Wing suffering from excruciating headaches had convinced him that it was truly a 'binding magical contract,' as the wise old headmaster assured him.
And now this: Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall........ Victory this year..... A Sacrifice..... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh........ When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released...... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light..... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken.... The Child of Light lost and broken....
Trelawney had ended with a sob of grief, before abruptly coming to herself and fumbling with her eating utensils.
Dumbledore had fought for years against the Dark Lord. It offended him that there was another wizard seen as powerful as he was. He spent a lot of time that evening considering how to proceed. That Voldemort was to be defeated so much earlier than he'd expected. Soon. It could save hundreds, thousands of lives, including his own. Potter would be fifteen in just a few days, - his sixteenth year. The Rite of Cerlikh was an almost forgotten dark spell, designed to steal the power from another wizard, along with his 'innocence.'
Sexual intercourse had always been a part of ancient rites, and some of those elaborate ceremonial spells were very powerful, - group spells usually, requiring more than one wizard to work the magic. The Rite of Cerlikh was almost forgotten. Not because it was illegal, but because it seldom worked, and was dangerous for the perpetrator. There were elaborate preparations needed, the sacrifice had to be virgin, boy or girl, - shining white. Dumbledore knew what that referred to, - there was a spell he'd used often when he'd been twenty years younger. To shine white, the subject had to be not only virgin, but never to have even kissed with passion. Even that spell was illegal, more because it was an invasion of privacy than because it was particularly harmful.
Would Potter qualify? He'd been a hero the previous year, after he'd faced the dragon. Girls had been flocking around him, though he'd never seen him with any aside from the Granger girl. Surprising if he hadn't had some experience. And yet, maybe with his deprived upbringing..... Without anyone to love him, he was probably uncomfortable with touch. He might even fear touch, subconsciously connecting it with imminent pain.
Dumbledore shook his head. Fancy Dursley carving 'Freak' into the boy's flesh! He hadn't really intended the abuse to go quite that far, though it suited his purposes. The boy's sacrifices had always been for a reason. For the greater good, and so that Dumbledore could take credit for being the Saviour of the Wizarding World without actually taking any risks.
****
Harry regarded the clothing that he'd stolen from a charity bin. A little shabby, but it would fit him far better than Dudley's castoffs. He hoped he wouldn't get into trouble for it. It was a long time since he'd been whipped, but he very well remembered the feel of it. The whip was still there in Vernon's wardrobe.
He was in the laundry at the back of the house when he heard Petunia shout, "Boy! Come here at once."
He answered immediately, "Yes, Aunt Petunia," and quickly tucked the clothing under some of Dudley's outsize shirts. It was his job to do the washing, so the 'new' things wouldn't come to light for at least a little while.
He stared at Professor Snape in disbelief when he found him standing beside Aunt Petunia, who was looking frightened and resentful. Snape was dressed in Muggle clothing, but still looked every inch the powerful, intimidating wizard. Snape looked down his nose at him, and sneered, "Not very presentable, are you, Potter?"
"I beg your pardon, Sir." Harry used the respectful, non-combative tone that worked best with abusive adults, whether his Aunt Vernon or Dumbledore's puppet, Professor Snape.
Snape's sneer seemed to deepen, and he pulled out his wand. Automatically, Harry stepped back, and Snape said, "Dumbledore sent me. I need to do a few diagnostic spells, make sure you're being looked after. You did complain about returning here, if you remember."
Harry flinched, and glanced at his aunt. Did Snape want him to be beaten?
Snape muttered an indistinguishable incantation, and Harry's skin glowed a bright white. Petunia gave a squeak of fright, while Snape studied the glow, looking for flaws of colour. Abruptly he snapped, "Take off your shirt."
Harry hesitated, glaring at the professor. Snape was impatient, but explained, "If you're truly being neglected, the headmaster may need to make different arrangements." Well, that was an incentive... Harry removed his shirt. There was still the white glow, with the pure light showing around him.
Abruptly, Snape waved his wand again, ending the spell. Purest virgin, poor boy, suitable for the rite. He took a step closer, and studied him. Voldemort had to be tempted to take the risk. Face acceptable enough, though the glasses were hideous. His vision should really have been corrected years before. Getting Voldemort to decide to perform the risky magic was going to be the tricky part, but the headmaster was nothing if not tricky. He touched a small scrape on Harry's side, and then said, "Turn around." Harry turned, and Snape frowned at the deep bruise on his shoulder. He was quite nicely built for his age, though too thin. He turned to Petunia, and demanded, "How was he hurt?"
Petunia stuttered that she didn't know, and Snape said, "Potter?"
Harry shrugged and was silent.
Petunia said nervously, "Harry, do not anger the Professor."
Harry said quietly, "Dudley came up behind when I was working in the garden." He glanced at Snape, and said, defensively, "He has bruises as well."
Snape was amused at the transparent attempt to pretend he could hold his own in a physical fight. Nearly fifteen, but looked more like thirteen. Far smaller than his cousin. He doubted if he'd be able to put up much of a fight. He asked, "Do you do a lot of work here?"
Petunia said quickly, "He likes to work. It makes him feel better about accepting our charity when he does small jobs about the house."
Snape stroked down the boy's upper arm. Were those muscles from the chores he did? It was reported that he spent hours every day working outside. Or maybe the tournament last year? Once he'd accepted that he was to participate, he'd done a lot of physical training. Severus Snape tended to notice Harry Potter.
He cast three more spells, and concluded, "Reasonably healthy, but he must be fed better. He is malnourished. And you must ensure your son does not touch him."
Petunia said, in a small voice, "Yes, Sir. Teenage boys can be a handful."
"Of course." He looked assessingly at Potter, who was buttoning his shirt again, and added, "Do not let him wander, Mrs. Dursley. He is in danger. If it becomes known that he is here, you could also be in danger."
"Not even to the park? He likes to go to the park."
"Not at all."
"Yes, Mr. Snape."
Potter was looking at him resentfully, and Snape warned, "You would not want to endanger your relatives, Potter." There was no answer, and Snape thought it unsurprising. Potter might easily want revenge. The scan had revealed that he'd had nothing at all to eat that day. He wondered how close the boy was to revolt, and added, "Make sure he has something to amuse himself, Mrs. Dursley. Books, games, whatever."
Harry asked quickly, "Might I please have access to my wand and books, Aunt Petunia? So I can do my homework?"
Snape was surprised, "He doesn't have access to his books?"
Petunia looked embarrassed, and Snape said, sternly, "This is a very important year in his education. Provide him with what he needs. Sufficient food, do not overwork him, and toys to keep him amused since he's not allowed out."
Harry was looking hopefully at the woman, and Petunia muttered something about the expense. Snape ordered indifferently, "Provide an accounting, you will be reimbursed."
"Yes, Sir."
The following day, Dudley was presented with a brand new computer, several of the newest games, and Harry was allowed to have his old computer and the games that Dudley was tired of. He was thrilled. It might take some days to learn how to master it, but Harry Potter was not stupid. His marks in school may have been average, but that was more because he didn't want to do better than Ron, and was sure that Hermione would never forgive him if he did better than she did. He valued his friends very much.
He was stunned when Dudley lounged to the door of his room, and asked, "Do you want to know how to play a game? I'll show you if you like?"
Harry looked at him warily, but finally said, "Yes, please."
Dudley stayed an hour before one of his friends called for him. Harry watched him go in amusement. He should have hit back years ago, but who could have expected that it would have this effect?
That evening, when he cooked dinner for the family, he wore the secondhand clothing he'd stolen, now washed, and with a button sewn on. He knew how to sew. His aunt had taught him all sorts of things to make himself useful. He'd long since stopped looking for affection from her, but at least she mostly made sure that his uncle didn't hit him much, not like when he'd been little. He was worried when his aunt frowned at him, but decided that if he was punished for it, then he would leave, in spite of his computer, and enough to eat.
But nothing was said, and in the morning, his fifteenth birthday, there were several sets of new clothes, a new pair of sneakers, even a pair of pyjamas. They were cheap, but they were new, and only a little too big. He thought that if Petunia continued to allow him sufficient food, they might fit properly by the end of the Summer, - if he stayed that long. He had a passport in a different name, purchased in Knockturn Alley, and he had a card that appeared to be an ordinary Visa Card, but would automatically deduct money from his Gringotts vault. Both items were cached in a slot in his photograph album, hidden from view. Not even his best friends would credit that he sometimes wondered whether a peaceful life as an anonymous Muggle would be better than being the Boy-Who-Lived, and seeming to attract trouble, only because of his notoriety.
There was that ominous Prophecy, too, appearing in the newspaper just days after he'd barely escaped from Voldemort on the occasion of his resurrection to a body. What would happen to the damned Prophecy if he simply disappeared?
****
Snape knelt at the hem of Voldemort's robes, and said humbly, "A new Prophecy, Master, concerning yourself and the boy." "Genuine?" "Genuine. I was the only witness, excluding the Seer."
"Does Dumbledore know?"
"I think we might need to give him a modified version."
"Tell me, then."
Snape recited carefully, "Victory for the Dark Lord, Victory before the leaves fall. Victory coming from the Rite of Cerlikh..... When the Bonds of Curse and Blood are cemented with the Act of Rutthiea.... The Dark Lord and the Marked Child of Light. The only blood spilled must be from the Act of Rutthiea, his only pain from the Act of Rutthiea, or the Rite will fail. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Treated with tenderness and care, yet he will give up his power to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord will reign a thousand years. Victory for the Dark Lord before the leaves fall. Victory for the Dark Lord.... Shame for the Side of Light, sacrificing the innocent child. Shame and Retribution! The innocent child sacrificed......."
Voldemort said doubtfully, "The Rite of Cerlikh?"
"I have done some research. I have all the information needed."
"And the Act of Rutthiea, of course, means a man having sex with a boy."
"That is correct, Master. An Old Aniragi term."
Voldemort looked down at the kneeling man, and said, impatiently, "Get up, Severus. You have done well."
Snape carefully rose to his feet, still looking at the floor. Voldemort liked humility in his followers, but now he said, sternly, "Look me in the face, Severus."
Snape had been expecting this, and allowed Voldemort to see his satisfaction that the Potter boy would be thoroughly humbled, the Bane of his life brought low.
Voldemort gave a crack of laughter, and said, "Unfortunately, the words state that he should be treated with tenderness and care."
"Perhaps, if he survives the transfer of power, you might let me have him? He's grown into quite a tempting boy."
Voldemort was amused, "He has? A bit puny, isn't he?"
"Small for his age, but not puny. He has eyes that show his every thought, but nearly always hidden behind those disgraceful glasses."
"Why haven't his eyes been fixed?"
"Dumbledore said that it serves his purposes, though he didn't say how. Recently he's come to the conclusion that the boy will never be capable of defeating you, and no longer values him. He could easily be willing to trade him, maybe for those you rescued from Azkaban, since they're already convicted."
"And who would you suggest?"
Snape said humbly, "It is not for me to suggest, Master."
Snape met the eyes of his master, and Voldemort said, in an amused voice, "Malfoy, eh? You really hate him, don't you?"
Snape dropped his eyes, and Voldemort said, "Repeat the words, and then give me all the information you have collected. I will give it some thought."
The weakness of the plan was that Voldemort was relying on only one witness, whom he might not necessarily trust. Dumbledore had given that some thought as well. Lucius Malfoy happened to overhear Kingsley Shacklebolt talking to another Auror, "It's ridiculous! Potter may have won the Triwizard Tournament, but he'll never rival any of us, let alone..." He'd broken off when he saw Malfoy, and smoothly started talking about the recent enquiry into Diggory's death.
There was another Prophecy as well, made at a dinner party, directly to Dumbledore, and in front of several witnesses. The Seer was Granny Abbot, who had a reputation for never being wrong. "Beware Leader of the Light. An Era of Darkness is at hand... Before the leaves fall.... Flee, Leader of the Light, the Dark Lord will have new power, and you will see defeat." The Ministry attempted to suppress it, but there were too many witnesses, and word reached Voldemort.
Snape reported to Dumbledore, "He still glows white, and states that he has not stepped foot outside the houseyard. Already he doesn't look as thin, he's better dressed, and says he likes to play games on his computer and has completed his homework. There were no injuries, not even a bruise."
"His pelvis?"
"As you said, I checked. There were no scars, no flaws."
"Did he object to taking off all his clothing?"
"He refused, so I paralysed him to do the check. I was lucky not to be attacked the moment I lifted the spell."
Dumbledore smiled, "He has a temper."
Snape said, "I showed my memory to the Dark Lord. It is not only for the Rite that he wants him now."
Dumbledore's tone was casual, "Would you have him if you had the chance, Severus?"
Snape replied coldly, "I have never been interested in boys, Albus."
Dumbledore shrugged. He'd enjoyed both boys and girls in his time, even the students in his care. The Imperius and Obliviate spells were so very convenient.
The Minister for Magic was Cornelius Fudge. Fudge was neither strong-minded, nor particularly intelligent, and Dumbledore influenced his decisions with even more ease than he had the previous Minister. The wily old man spoke of Voldemort's approach for a trade, and Fudge protested, "Yes, but Harry Potter!"
Dumbledore showed his tired, regretful face. "Sacrifices have to be made, Cornelius. Voldemort has offered two Death Eaters for the boy, I feel we should demand fifteen of his best, and that our condition would be that he has Dementors Kiss them in front of witnesses before handing them over."
"Fenrir Greyback. We must have Fenrir Greyback. He killed my brother."
"Greyback has killed hundreds, and Turned more. And Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm sure I can negotiate those two. Voldemort wants the boy, and promises not to torture him, even to have it so that he never has reason to fear. Voldemort..."
Fudge said, exasperated, "Please, don't say his name, Albus! You know I hate it!"
Dumbledore soothed, "We will win one day, Cornelius, never fear."
Fudge said hopefully, "Depriving him of his most devoted followers will help."
"It certainly will."
Fudge sighed, "I assume he will kill poor Harry."
"I assume so, but he has no reason to cause him pain or upset. Just that he thinks he needs to remove a threat."
"Is the boy really incapable of defeating him?"
"Potter is not particularly powerful, a mediocre student, and he's mentally fragile. While I'm fond of the boy, I have to be objective. Harry Potter is not of use as a Fighter, but can do a great deal of good as a trade."
Dumbledore looked down at his own steepled hands, and said, "If I am the one to contrive the defeat of the Dark One, I would like a monetary reward, as well as a second Order of Merlin."
"Yes, Albus. I can't wait for the day."
"It will come, but we may have to be patient. Just trust me, and do as I say." His eyes settled on Fudge's, and his left hand was in his right sleeve, holding his wand. The Mind-Magic swirled, and Fudge forgot his remaining objections. There were always casualties in war, and hard decisions sometimes had to be made. It was sad that the sacrifice had to be the Boy Who Lived, but the Dark One had undertaken not to cause him pain. Dumbledore stated a figure, and Fudge agreed without a murmur of objection.
At the full moon, before the leaves fell. Voldemort beat Dumbledore down to seven Death Eaters, including Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange, but not including Lucius Malfoy. Dumbledore had wanted Malfoy, Voldemort's chief lieutenant, and so wily he'd never been convicted of numerous crimes.
The arrangements were not made in time for the August full moon. The next was due on September fifteenth.
****
Harry glared at Severus Snape when he arrived. After that intrusive inspection of his body, it had been hard to be sensible, but if he wanted legal use of a wand as an adult, he'd had to be. The minimum to be regarded as a competent wizard was successful completion of fifth year. If that was not obtained, whether at Hogwarts, or verified by a competent teacher, the wizard had to give up his wand. It was only prudent to obey the headmaster, which is why Harry hadn't gone out, even to Muggle areas. But he needed his school supplies, and Snape was here to escort him, along with two Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Jeremy Huntington, both very black, and large in stature. They wore their Auror's uniforms and looked rather fearsome, but they were friendly. Kingsley stayed close, sometimes taking his arm, only for safety, he said, as Harry flinched away from him, and Jeremy two paces away, and very alert. Snape stayed at a distance as well, though it was obvious he was in charge of the expedition.
The Alley was a lot quieter than Harry had ever seen it. He commented, and Kingsley explained that Dumbledore had arranged that he have his booklist early so there'd be fewer shoppers. Jeremy added, "There's a lot of fear, as well. People don't know what's going to happen."
Harry shivered, remembering the half manic snake-man he'd attempted to duel.
All the same, the shopping trip was a rare treat for him, and once he'd gone to the bank, been measured for new robes, had picked up his books and potions supplies, he asked Kingsley if they could maybe have an ice-cream before leaving. Kingsley looked at Snape, who gave a curt nod and said he might as well collect a few supplies of his own and disappeared around the corner toward Knockturn Alley.
Harry felt a rare happiness, as he watched the shoppers, and listened to the lilting music that always seemed to fill the alley with excitement. A reporter approached, but Jeremy stepped in front of her, and she quickly retreated. Harry remarked to Kingsley, "That was Rita Skeeter. She's a total bitch."
He was looking around for others he knew, and saw Blaise Zabini with his family. Then Charlie Greaves and Bruce Steinway, Gryffindors a year above himself. They didn't seem to have anyone with them, and when they asked, were allowed to join him. With his formidable guardians watching over him, Harry wasn't worrying about his own safety, and listened as Charlie enthusiastically described his new broom, and said that with the vacancies in the Quidditch team, he hoped to finally have his chance.
Harry grinned, "I can't wait to fly again. It always hurts when I have to leave my broom at school."
"You don't fly in the Summer?"
"I live with Muggles, in a Muggle neighbourhood."
Charlie asked blankly, "Why?"
Harry shrugged, "Only living relatives. No choice."
"Surely it would be a problem, - things you don't know."
Harry laughed, "That first year..... Even now, I find myself not knowing things that everyone else knows. Like Ron went to a wedding, except he called it a Bonding Ceremony, and then laughed at me because I asked if that meant there was magic involved."
"You didn't know that?"
"Aniragi customs. If you don't grow up in the culture, you often find yourself confused."
"The Potters are an old Pure-blood family, aren't they? You should know."
"I know very little about the Potters. I know my mother was Muggle-born."
A couple of Slytherin boys waved to the group, but Snape had returned by then, and shook his head. Kingsley stood, "Time to go, I'm afraid, Harry."
Charlie said, "I'll ask my parents about the Potter bloodline and tell you once we're back at school. We might even be related."
"Ron told me once that just about every Pure-blood family is related to every other."
Two days before school was due to resume, Snape was back at the Dursleys. Harry regarded him with wariness, and Snape said, in a calm voice, "Just another medical check, Dumbledore's orders."
Harry demanded, "And do you want to strip me this time? Do you get some sort of a sick pleasure out of that?"
"That is not necessary, and there was no pleasure in that for me. Just that the Headmaster was adamant that a complete check be done."
Harry said, bitterly, "You paralysed me!"
"I could have stunned you instead."
Snape made an effort, and said, "I am sorry that you were embarrassed. I do not expect that any such necessity will arise again."
Harry looked surprised, and Snape said, "Just the usual diagnostics in case your uncle has not been behaving."
Harry still regarded him with suspicion, and Snape noticed his wand was in his hand. He said sharply, "Be sensible, Harry. I apologised for embarrassing you."
"Not so much embarrassed, just that I hate to be helpless."
"Do you accept my apology?"
Harry shrugged, "I don't think I've ever had a sincere apology from an adult, and I doubt you care in the slightest as long as I don't fight back."
"Stay fully clothed, and I'll cast the General Diagnostic first, and then the other."
"What's the other for?"
"It checks for spells on you that you may not know about, such as tracking charms. Clear white means no problems."
"You cast it silently last time."
"It is a proscribed spell. There is no need for you to know the incantation."
Again, Snape noted that the poor boy appeared perfectly healthy, and his skin still glowed pure white. For a traitorous moment, he wished he could send him out to get some experience. Negotiations would cease if the Sylph Aura changed colour, even to slightly pink. As it was, it was likely he only had a few weeks to live. The Prophecy didn't state whether he would survive or not, just that he'd be lost and broken. Snape found that he didn't actually want the boy broken, even if his insolence did try his patience at times.
Harry's look was still wary, and he asked, "Finished?"
"Almost. I brought you some books to read."
Harry smiled broadly, and said, "Good old Dumbledore. It's been my least horrible Summer ever."
Snape thought wryly that it would naturally not occur to him that it had been Snape who'd organised the gift.
****
The seventh September, and Dumbledore and Voldemort were talking directly. They were in an unoccupied home they'd decided on as neutral territory. Dumbledore said, "So seven Death Eaters, Kissed, and then handed over to the Aurors."
Voldemort listed, "The three Lestranges, Greyback, McNair, Alecto Carrow and Dolohov."
"That is satisfactory. Now as to Harry. I want him hurt as little as possible. I thought I'd give him no real warning, but present him to you under the influence of Calming and Compliance potions."
"There is a special potion I want him to have that will have those effects."
"I thought so. You want him for the Rite of Cerlikh, don't you?"
Voldemort regarded the old headmaster, looking benign instead of business-like. He asked, "Do you know of the Rite of Cerlikh?"
"I know magic. I suspected it. You know that careful preparation is required?"
"I know. I'll have to have him early."
"He would be terrified. A struggling subject is detrimental to the spell. What I suggest is that I ensure careful preparation at Hogwarts, so that he will not be upset, and only hand him over when the time for the ceremony is imminent."
"Why are you willing to help me in this, Albus?"
"I do not believe the spell will be effective, except that I have no doubt that you will enjoy it very much. He's a beautiful boy, you know. But I want something extra for my trouble. Not just the preparation, but to ensure he doesn't ruin it by going to bed with one of the girls after him."
"What do you want, Albus? To watch?"
Dumbledore would have loved to watch, but not if Potter managed to incinerate everyone around, as he just might. Instead, he said firmly, "Peter Pettigrew, in addition to the others, but not Kissed. He is of use to me."
Voldemort frowned, "He is of use to me, as well."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Voldemort shrugged, "Very well, the rat."
Dumbledore smiled. Clearing Sirius Black would have another person in debt to him, and a very wealthy one. Black didn't appear to blame him for his incarceration for all those years, but surely he realised he could have done something to help if he'd chosen. There hadn't even been a trial.
Voldemort said, firmly, "I will need one of my followers to supervise the preparation. The man must not be molested in any way, and there should be no repercussions for him afterward. Also he will take charge of the Cerlikh potion."
Dumbledore nodded and smiled, "It will be an erotic experience for me as well, you know, Tom. When young Harry glows white, and you know he's never been touched..... I'll prepare him very carefully, - a day of purging and cleansing, two days of fasting, nothing to drink but pure water, not even potions, but repeated cleansing and calming spells, and then the Cerlikh potion just before handing him over."
"That is even more thorough than the instructions I have."
Dumbledore spoke gently, "I'm always thorough, Tom. You will have what you want, and for this, for the seven Kissed criminals, and for Pettigrew, I will help you."
"Then are we all settled?"
"Only one thing, Tom. He feels pain when you are close. I think you should work on projecting reassurance and calm through the connection you share with him, rather than pain."
"Pain?"
"I see him rubbing his forehead, and I know he's feeling you."
"I touched him on the scar once, and he screamed, just from the touch."
"You should work on that. It is in no-one's interest to have a violent rape."
"True."
"I'm very fond of him, you know, Tom. He's a charming boy, polite and obedient. It is very sad that he's to be a sacrifice of this struggle."
Voldemort stood, and said in a tone of finality, "You can rest assured that I will treat him as a thing of value."
The following day, Dumbledore sent Hagrid on a mission to parlay with the giants, and Remus Lupin, who also appeared to care about Harry, to talk to the werewolves, maybe offer the Wolfsbane potion in return for registration with the Ministry. There were no other adults whom he expected might speak up for the boy, not even Minerva McGonnagal, his Head of House. The Dursleys, of course, were not worth considering. Meantime, Harry just had to be kept safe, unsuspecting, and 'innocent.'
****
The tenth September, and Harry hurtled after the practice snitch on his broom. Usually he'd be dodging bludgers as well, or at least the lighter practice bludgers, but Madam Hooch said they were not available for use. There had been speculation that someone might have hexed them, but no information had been forthcoming.
The players came in exhilarated, laughing. Practice had gone well. Harry remarked contentedly to Ron, "I'm never as happy as when I'm at Hogwarts, and preferably flying."
Ron asked curiously, "You're not worried about the Prophecy then?"
"The Prophecy made by Trelawney? Hardly! How many times has she predicted my imminent and painful death, and yet I'm still here. I really don't know why anyone takes her seriously. She's quite batty!"
"She is, but Prophecy is not. It's a respected branch of magic."
Harry laughed, "Ron, are you trying to frighten me?"
Ron said quickly, "Forget it. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen."
Kingsley Shacklebolt spent the night in the Gryffindor Common Room, as he had every night since school had resumed. By this time, he was mostly ignored, usually just quietly reading a book until everyone was in bed, then sealing the door. No fifteen year-old boy wearing an invisibility cloak was to be allowed out to get into mischief. His presence also reduced the likelihood of couples getting together in the Common Room.
In the daytimes, it was Jeremy Huntington, simply being wherever Harry was, not too close. Harry mostly ignored him, as well, except for the times when he used his knowledge of shortcuts and hidden corridors to dodge him, winding up smugly sitting in a classroom by the time that Jeremy arrived, puffing and harried.
When Dumbledore remonstrated with him, he denied that he was in any particular danger. He thought having bodyguards was quite ridiculous. And besides, he was irked with Dumbledore. Charlie had told him that there was bound to be an ancestral manor, though apparently hidden by spells since no-one could remember it, quite separate from the house that had been destroyed at Godric's Hollow. Possibly other properties, and wealth far greater than was in the one Gringotts Vault he knew of. He couldn't understand why Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to mention it, but asked Charlie to keep quiet about it. Hedwig had been sent to Gringotts for further information. There had to be property deeds, maybe mementos of his ancestors. Was there another vault? He'd asked for strict confidentiality.
Sunday, September twelfth. It was the following day that Harry was to be 'taken ill,' in order for the rigorous cleansing process to commence. It was time for Kingsley and Jeremy to know what was planned. Dumbledore couldn't afford the 'bodyguards' to object to the proceedings.
Kingsley first, and he asked, "Harry been behaving himself?"
Kingsley smiled, "As you would expect of a teenager. He is full of life and spirit."
Dumbledore laughed gently, fondly, "It is good that he is enjoying life." He sighed, and projected an air of sadness and resolution, "There will be a few days when he is not so happy, but it is war, and in a war, difficult decisions have to be made."
"Yes, Professor."
Albus Dumbledore had been the revered headmaster of Hogwarts for the past fifty years. Kingsley had met him first as a nervous eleven-year-old, as had nearly every English wizard below the age of sixty. Even without Mind-Magic, that gave the old man a tremendous advantage. What he said would be believed. "I will need your full cooperation to make this as easy on the boy as possible."
Kingsley was a little puzzled, but assured him that the Aurors had instructions to cooperate fully with him.
Dumbledore looked sad still, "I will explain, Kingsley. Listen carefully to the latest Prophecy concerning our Harry. He quoted softly, clearly: Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall........ Victory this year..... A sacrifice..... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh........ When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released...... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. The Child of Light will emerge triumphant. Glory to the Child of Light."
Kingsley asked, "A Prophecy? Would you mind repeating it?"
Dumbledore repeated the edited Prophecy. Nothing about Shame to the Side of Light, nothing about the innocent child being 'lost and broken.'
Kingsley said, "I don't know the Rite of Cerlikh."
Dumbledore explained, and also that Voldemort had been lured to ask for the boy. The trade, and Kingsley exclaimed with satisfaction, "Greyback! He's ruined so many lives!"
"And the Lestranges. I believe that Voldemort learned sadism from Bellatrix. Before she became his disciple, he sometimes caused pain, but only when there was reason."
"Dolohov, the other Lestranges.... If only we could have deprived him of Malfoy!"
Dumbledore sighed, "The cost is high, but it's seven for one, and most important, it will mean our victory."
"But Harry! He's a nice boy. I don't want him hurt."
"Voldemort has heard a different prophecy, one that promises him victory, but only if Harry is treated with care and tenderness. Harry will inevitably be hurt, - somewhat, but as little as possible."
"Why has Voldemort agreed to this?"
"The Prophecy he believes goes like this: Victory for the Dark Lord, Victory before the leaves fall. Victory coming from the Rite of Cerlikh..... When the Bonds of Blood and Curse are cemented with the Act of Rutthiea.... The Dark Lord and the Marked Child of Light. The only blood spilled must be from the Act of Rutthiea, his only pain from the Act of Rutthiea, or the Rite will fail. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Treated with tenderness and care, yet he will give up his power to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord will reign a thousand years. Victory for the Dark Lord before the leaves fall. Victory for the Dark Lord.... Shame for the Side of Light, sacrificing the innocent child. Shame! The innocent child sacrificed.... Victory for the Dark Lord..."
Kingsley said, thoughtfully, "I see."
Dumbledore nodded, "Harry will win, though he might be very frightened, especially if the Rite proceeds to its conclusion. But we can see the end to this now, just a few months after Voldemort was resurrected. It's even appropriate, seeing that it was Harry's blood that was used to return Voldemort to a body, and now he'll be the instrument of his destruction," and he quoted again, "The Child of Light emerges triumphant. Glory to the Child of Light."
"Poor Harry!"
"I know, but we must be strong, and do what is right, rather than what is easy. Giving him to Voldemort is the right thing to do, and will spell the end of this conflict."
Kingsley sighed, "I understand that. I will follow your instructions precisely."
"Thank you, Kingsley."
Then Jeremy, who also promised to do whatever was necessary, to make it as easy as possible for Harry, while agreeing that he would be handed over to Voldemort.
One last interview for the day, Francis Ryan, tall, blonde and goodlooking. One of three brothers from an old Pure-blood family. Ryan was a Death Eater, but would be passed off as a Healer, with the special job of looking after Harry Potter in his illness. A private room was already prepared, and a temporary nurse hired to replace Madam Pomfrey, who'd been sent on leave without the option. Dumbledore didn't trust the strong minded Hogwarts nurse not to attempt to defend her patient, even from him.
***chapter end***
