Chapter 1: Harry Potter
All adventures begin somewhere.
Nagini followed the smell of her master's steps. The cool, putrid stench of death directed her to him. It was not always this way but over time the curious cascade of potions ingredients had given way to corpses. Wistful, Nagini gave a plaintive hiss, and abandoned memory. Her master walked now, she would follow him now.
They came upon a nest. It was wood and magic; a wizard's nest. Her master opened the door. No doors stayed closed to him for long. His lights erased all obstacles as they slipped into the nest. Tonight they came to feast.
The smell of death followed a green light. Nagini coiled and unhinged her jaws. A hand came to rest on her crown scales.
Not yet, not this one.
Nagini nodded and together they climbed the stair.
Her human hissed at another, a woman. The woman crowed, sounds Nagini recognized as human, before a flash of green. The smell of death doubled. Her master was tapping her crown scales again.
Soon. Very soon.
Curious, Nagini lifted her head to watch her human level his stick at a wood cage with no roof. From inside, quiet human chirping.
Nagini watched, still as stone, as her wizard rose his stick for the third time that night to summon death.
The night was chill and dark. The neighborhood was quiet where the two wizards met, footsteps falling into sync as they fell into step beside one another. They exchanged no greetings, spared each other only a moment's glance, before their attentions turned to a lamp post on a corner of the street.
No one else was awake so late at night to see the curious shape of an old man in deep fuchsia robes unfold himself from time and space and step into existence without the assistance of any carriage or car. He held in his arms a babe wrapped in a blue blanket. The babe was a boy, and his name was Harry Potter.
The two wizards awaited their colleague's acknowledgement before approaching, eyes cast watchfully about for any sign of movement, despite the lateness of the hour.
"Just this way," the old man supplied, turning down the lane, babe wrapped up in his arms.
One of the wizards following suddenly broke line with his fellow to step directly beside the boy and the old man. His face was pale and his eyes were rubbed red with worry. "Is, I mean, is he—"
"Sleeping, Sirius," the old man replied, a twinkle in his eye, "I'm afraid I might wake him but perhaps with your help he can remain as he is. Would you like to carry him a ways?"
The younger man nodded fervently but took pause and then great care accepting young Harry.
"Thank Merlin, he's fine," Sirius breathed in great relief, "Sound asleep! Even now!"
The older wizard nodded as though to himself. "He has Lily's eyes."
"I know, and James's hair! Look at the way his little fists are curled; he'll make a fine lad. Just fine."
"And finer still, once he is under the roof of his relatives."
A noise of quiet distress brought the two men from their quiet conversation over the child, and they glanced back at the figure of Severus Snape.
"You are certain of this, Headmaster?" The man's black eyes were as red-rubbed as his fellow's, but they shone with a vibrancy visible even in the dark of night. "To leave him here? With her sister?"
"With Muggles, you mean," Sirius muttered darkly, meeting Snape's sharp eyes over Harry's head.
"Do you mean, am I certain that here will young Harry remain safe, well kept, and loved?"
The two men turned from one another to look to Albus Dumbledore as they came to a stop in front of Number Four, Privet Drive. The size of the house alone indicated well enough that the family within could of course bear the burden of caring for a young child. Albus took his wand from the deep folds of his robe and waved it over the sleeping child in Sirius's arms. The warming spell would keep Harry cozy until he was brought across the threshold. Dumbledore's blue eyes shone like starlight as he plucked the infant from his godfather's reluctant embrace and rocked him once. The sleeping Harry burbled, yawned, and dreamt.
"Of this, Severus, I have no doubt."
Dumbledore lay Harry Potter at the doorstep of Privet Drive along with a cream colored envelope.
He smiled.
"Good luck, Harry Potter."
Behind him Snape and Sirius were not smiling. The two men waited until Dumbledore came away from the doorstep and broke into whispers of protest at the same time.
"Albus, I really must protest. Lily was the kindest witch but Petunia Evans, that woman—"
"He's my godson, they named me godfather! And there are wards strong enough at Grimmuald Place—"
The old man allowed their bickering for a time, all the while unfolding a small pocket watch from a maroon handkerchief. He let the two men bicker and argue while the seconds ticked past. Then he nodded before opening his hand and holding the small watch out between them. Both men fell silent and obediently reached out to place their fingertips to either side of the watch face. The tiny silver instrument inside ticked down its last twenty ticks. A sharp gust of wind announced their disappearance into the night.
They appeared again in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
"—only right that the boy's brought up in a wizarding family! He'll be a hero to our world!"
"—family is no good, Albus, if I am sure of anything, it is that you will come to regret this decision."
The two men continued their previous lines of thought with vehemence as Dumbledore walked round his office. He stopped to greet the brilliant red and gold bird alighting its post. The phoenix warbled a gentle greeting and met his wizard's hand with a nudge of his head. Behind him both Snape and Sirius had followed and all three now stood before his desk.
"Gentlemen," the Headmaster said, allowing both a pause for breath, "Tea?"
He waved his wand while the two men took chairs in front of the desk, which had been kind enough to round out and accommodate an extra space for the refreshments. A silver tray appeared and on it three drops of porcelain wound themselves up into little ovals, sprouting round handles and straightening up into cups. Piping hot tea was stirred with honey-laden spoons and Dumbledore took his chair as Sirius conjured a small milk pitcher.
The clinking of cups and spoons filled a brief pause. There was a moment of drinking and a great sigh seemed to slip from the sippers. Silence followed.
"He's gone, then," Snape said eventually, dark eyes coming to rest questioningly upon the Headmaster.
"So it would seem," Dumbledore said slowly. His long fingers steepled together over his tea cup, "and yet Lord Voldemornt—"
Sirius nearly knocked his cup from the table as he set his hand down rather forcefully.
"Speak not the name!"
"I know you do not fear him, Albus," Snape said levelly over his own cup, though his hand shook, "yet, for those of us who do… for those of us who did, do not. Not on this night."
The old wizard regarded his two young fellows with a raised brow. "Very well. Forgive me. After all, it has been a most unusual night."
Sirius snorted his tea. Snape looked faintly disgusted as the other man set it down and gestured grandly, getting to his feet.
"Unusual? Unusual! The Dark Lord falls! Two families, torn apart! My best friends, murdered! My godson, made fatherless!" He roared the last, throwing both hands to the desk this time, and succeeded in upsetting the tea cups and the milk pitcher. Snape brandished his wand and vanished the spilt milk as Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"It has been a difficult night for everyone, Sirius. I understand your grief; James and Lily were not only your friends."
This had the desired effect of sobering Sirius, who calmed enough to apologize to the older wizard and take his seat again. Once the man was sufficiently composed and with another cup of tea the Headmaster turned to Snape.
"Perhaps it will help him, Severus, if he could see—"
"I think not," Snape cut in, but Sirius was sitting up straighter, wild eyes focused now on the man sitting beside him. "He and I have been through enough this night." But Dumbledore shook his head.
"While it's fresh," he insisted, and stood to summon something from a cupboard.
Sirius watched, transfixed, as a great shallow bowl floated toward them. Already Snape was putting his wand to his temple. Tea forgotten, Sirius could barely breathe as Snape extracted a silvery memory and dropped it onto the surface of the Pensive. The Headmaster placed his own cup aside and stood.
"I think it's best we see it together, my boy."
He turned to Snape. "Severus, you have already lived this memory once this night; you need not repeat it, if that is your wish."
The dour man shook his head minutely, tucked his wand back into the folds of his cloak and looked away from the Pensive, as though he'd rather it didn't exist.
Dumbledore inclined his head and gestured again; this time, to Sirius.
"When you're ready."
Together they brought their brows to the surface of the bowl and tumbled through memory.
The pitch and winding streams of grey swam together to form the house at Godric's Hollow. Sirius watched the memory shape of Snape stagger, wand gripped tight in one hand, up to the step of the house. He spun to see Dumbledore behind him.
"He was—Snape was there this night? He was—"
"Devastated," Dumbledore agreed, just as a wail erupted from the house. Sirius turned and the memory shifted; he and Dumbledore stood directly now behind the doorframe. A sick feeling settled in Sirius' stomach as he set foot in the room. The monster was gone but his hand was obvious. The room was wrecked and everything in it. There were no blast marks, there had been no fight. Only murder. Snape had thrown himself to the floor beside the figure already there, splayed with eyes glazed, that Sirius recognized with a start.
"Lily," he realized.
Snape sobbed.
The sound of his wails met the thunder outside and echoed once they'd passed. But another sound followed, and Sirius mirrored Snape as he searched for the source.
"There," Dumbledore said, pointing to Harry's crib. Sirius choked to see the empty bars where his godson had slept.
"But where is Harry?"
Snape seemed to have the same mission in this memory and tore his gaze from Lily long enough to scour the room. His breathing stopped sharply. Sirius strained to see what had caught Snape's eye. The clouds over the house ghosted away, allowing the moon's light to spill over the house, down and through the ruined roof.
And under the moonlit sky did Sirius finally see the shape of a snake.
The shape of a snake bulging just the size of a baby boy.
Sirius stopped breathing, too.
"Sectumsempra!"
The curse snapped off Snape's wand but bounced from an unseen shield. The snake hissed, furious, rearing to retaliate.
"Flippendo! Stupefy!"
Snape's curses seemed only to press back on some invisible force surrounding the snake. His efforts were not ineffective, for he could see how the snake was becoming agitated, and he cast again, barely pausing to draw breath.
"Diffendo! Bombarda! Reducto!"
Finally, the blows brought the snake to convulsions, and its jaws opened wide to expel a small figure.
Sirius cried out and made to dash to it, but Dumbledore caught his shoulder in time. "This is a memory, Sirius," he reminded the shaking wizard, "We can only watch, not help, for it has already come to pass."
Memory Snape was casting spells again, stronger, louder, until at last by sheer force he blasted the creature out of the house. He spun on heel and scooped the bundle to him, unstoppering a vial with his free hand and dowsing the child with a stasis potion. The sound of anguished hissing echoed through the memory and Snape thrust his hand inside his robe. Sirius watched in horror Snape fumbling for something as the hissing drew near. Then there was a sharp crack, and he was back in the Headmaster's office.
Sirius threw himself from the chair and over Dumbledore's waste bin.
Eventually he registered the hand on his back and that someone was muttering at his ear. "…leaving him on that wretched woman's doorstep, even after Poppy had checked him over thrice… saying his swaddling saved his life, wrapped up in it as he was… said it was far too early to see the beginning of long-term ill effects." There was a brief pause and whispering, and Sirius felt the hand on his shoulder tighten. "No, Headmaster. I do not think Black 'needed to see'."
Sirius nodded absently and allowed someone to drag him back to the chair. Magic vanished the vomit on his beard. Snape was shoving a cup back in his hands. He regarded Sirius with an odd look before turning to Dumbledore.
"Something stronger than tea, perhaps, Headmaster," Snape suggested.
For once Sirius had no argument with the man.
Obligingly Dumbledore tapped the cups with his wand and they became glass flutes. He gestured coaxingly over the tea kettle while murmuring beneath his breath and poured again. Snape upended something into Sirius's own flute, "for the nerves, man," and took his seat back. It was a testament to the type of night it was that Sirius drank without protest and pushed his glass closer to Dumbledore for another. Recalling what the Headmaster and Sirius Black had just lived, Snape also pushed forth his glass.
Dumbledore poured himself a glass and settled back into his chair. While the memory of such horrors clung close to the surface of his mind, young Harry Potter was alive and well, despite the best efforts of Lord Voldemornt.
Though the past was perilous the present was certain. Dumbledore rose his glass.
"To Harry Potter," he toasted, and drank.
"Harry Potter," his fellows echoed, draining their own cups.
And so it went, around the wizarding world, to those who knew, to those who speculated, and to those who began to hope for the first time in many a worrisome year. The toast to a sleeping baby rose round the world in all tongues.
And in the dark of night beneath moonlit clouds the long shape of a snake slithered, hissing gently the same name on the lips of thousands of witches and wizards.
"Harry. Harry. Have no fear. Harry, I will come for you."
End Chapter 1