Harry Potter and the Foe Glass Book 2: Philosopher Stone
Ch. 1 Orphans
The shortly waited for sequel to the first Foe Glass book has arrived. As an added bonus the first three chapters of 'Quack Experimental Star Wars One-Shots' are being released simultaneously with this book.
The information for this book was taken between the movies and books alike.
Now for those who haven't read my first book, I'm going to try my hardest to make this story understandable without the first being read. If you don't understand why someone is here or who someone is go ahead and read the first book because it will most likely be explained.
In brief, however, the first book involved the tale of how Mark Dumbledore was given the important task of watching over, and generally befriending, Harry Potter while only being a child himself.
It took place one year before Hogwarts in a world where an entirely to manipulative Albus Dumbledore who keeps Snape under his thumb via a massive amount of confundus charms.
Snape happens to be the lucky one though, but that has yet to be established.
Well… Mark along with Harry conquers a series of increasingly dangerous threats that Mark predicts via his Foe Glass. A Foe Glass (seen in the series inside Professor Trewliny's classroom) is a crystal ball that lets you see your enemies by proximity then threat level.
Now if you skipped this introduction then I hope you understand what you read, if you didn't and you don't… well it's your own fault then.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter J.K. Rowling does
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They happened to be the last people anyone would expect to believe in anything mysterious or paranormal, but that was just the Dursley's.
Mr. Dursley was a rather robust gentleman with graying light brown hair and half the normal size of neck anyone should have. Along with that he sports a very bushy mustache and an ego to match size.
He worked for a firm called Grunnings, which manufactured in drills.
Mrs. Dursely, unlike her husband, was a petite woman with black hair and a neck of twice the normal size. This came in handy when she craned her way around the neighborhood looking over people's fences.
Yes she was quite the gossip and everyone knew and, did their best, to ignore her.
They were a happy little family with their son, Dudley, whom they thought of as the finest child in the world.
The Dursley's had everything they could possibly want, but they were also hiding something and it consumed every fear that they possessed that some day it might come out.
They couldn't bare the thought that someone might find out about them, those abnormal Potters.
Mrs. Dursley had a sister whom she hadn't seen for several years, in fact she spent most of her time pretending, and hoping, that she was an only child.
Then their was that good-for-nothing husband of hers, ugh, as far as any of them were concerned they were as un-Dursleyish as one might get.
It was also known that the Potters had a child of their own. Another fine reason to avoid them; they didn't want Dudley mingling with the likes of their little runt.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on a dull, gray, Tuesday is where our story begins.
Unbeknownst to them, however, mysterious occurrences were happening all across the country.
The father Dursley hummed an old navy tune and picked out his least flashy tie for work to fit with his work motto "Nothing inspires hard work like the mundane".
His wife, in the mean time, was wrestling Dudley into his hair chair, the rotten little youngster kicking all the way.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley came down stairs. With a bit of money for a light breakfast and a peck on cheek to the Mrs., he was ready to walk out the door.
He would have done the same for little Dudley, but Dursley's son was to busy wearing his food and kicking the wall.
"Little tyke", Dursley chuckled as he got into is car.
The day seemed to be progressing lovely when Vernon Dursley noticed something at the end of the street; a cat with odd markings around its eyes was reading a map.
No.
Cats cannot read. Surely it was just a piece of debris that the alley cat had found a liking to, but when Vernon looked back the map was gone. Instead the cat was reading the street sign.
No.
Looking at the street sign. Cats cannot read.
The thought perplexed him, but he soon forgot it in the early morning traffic. A massive traffic jam had formed on the route to Vernon's work.
"Huff", he sighed, well this was the reason he left so early everyday.
As he moved onward another thing began to catch his eye, dozens of people were walking around in funny looking cloaks.
Now this was something that Vernon purely detested, people who dressed oddly. Probably some young people fad.
But wait! Was that a man wearing a large emerald-green cloak? He must have been older than Vernon himself.
They must be some kind of activists, preparing a demonstration of some kind. Yes… that was clearly it, why else would anybody dress in such an odd manner?
The rest of Vernon's ride was spent trying to ignore all the odd people out and about and focus on the huge order of drills he hoped to receive today.
Despite all the owls he saw seemingly everywhere it went, his day did go very well.
Vernon arrived just in time, yelled at all the right people of course, and by midmorning, he had felt deserving of a pastry from the bakery across the street.
On his way threw the parking structure he bumped into a small man and knocked him down. He was about to outstretch his hand to help him up when he noticed he was wearing a violet cloak.
"Oh, um, sorry about", Vernon said as he tried to help him up regardless of his clothes. What if someone had seen him knock him down without helping it up, it would ruin his reputation.
The old man instead leaped up and began vigorously shaking Vernon's hand, "No need to apologize my friend, for this is a glorious day! Even you muggles have reason to celebrate the end of he-who-must-not-be-named's reign of terror!"
Mr. Dursley was a bit off stricken by being called a "muggle", whatever that was, but he continued his day despite this once again.
As he walked down the street to the bakery he saw a couple of those cloaked freaks talking outside. Vernon couldn't help but overhear a wee bit.
"-The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"
"-And their son, Harry-"
Vernon Dursley's rosy face turned as white as snow. He almost fell to the ground as fear began to consume his mind.
Did they just say Harry? And Potter?
Now Potter, that was a dreadful, common name. There must be many a Brit with that last name, but Harry? Was his nephew's name even Harry?
It was true that he must have been over a year old by now, but Vernon Dursley had yet to see his nephew. Better to avoid them, was Vernon's policy.
Then there was his wife, Petunia. Vernon hated the Potters, but she seemed to completely despise her sister and her family. Vernon couldn't blame her though, he couldn't imagine having a sister like that.
Now that he thought about it, was his nephews name even Harry? It might have been Harold or even Harvey, but he was now assured by the means of his own self-denial that it couldn't be Harry.
The rest of his day went much the same as the beginning, with cloaked people everywhere and owls swarming the sky.
As he pulled into number four Privet drive, Vernon's mood had not improved at all.
And that blasted cat now by HIS garden! This was making him rather moody, but he couldn't help but smiling as he entered his home with his wife and baby boy waiting for him.
What a fine and normal family Vernon had. His life was in perfect order and he wouldn't have it any other way.
As Vernon pulled into his lovely and tidy home, his wife, whom handed a big cup of coffee, greeted him.
Mr. Dursley, of course, was used to this as what just the Mrs.'s way of opening up dialogue. She knew all too well that he couldn't help but listen when sipping a cup of her delightful coffee.
So as to his normal schedule, Vernon listened to what 'Mrs. Neighbor lady' was doing with 'Mr. Mailman' and all the other daily details of Privet drive.
Along with that he was delighted to hear his son had picked a new word today (Won't). What a talented boy!
After his wife finished her ranting, it was finally time for Vernon to sit back and watch the evening news, already in session.
"Meanwhile, bird enthusiasts everywhere have reported odd owl sightings all throughout the countryside. Quite contrary to their usual nighttime hunting strategies eh? Since sunrise the birds have been seen flying in massive flocks over anywhere from farmland to city streets. Experts are currently unsure why the owls have changed their sleeping patterns".
The newsman smiled at these odd occurrences, "Now we go to weather with Jim McGuffin. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim".
"Well Ted", the weatherman began, "I don't know about owls, but there has been many odd fireworks out today along the cities of Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee. It appears that they are calling in about that rain I promised yesterday, instead they got shootings stars".
The anchor took back the camera view, "How peculiar. On the topic of Kent, A strange fire destroyed a town hou-"
Click
Vernon had seen enough of this news. It was time to talk to his wife about this.
Owls, shooting stars, mysterious people in cloaks and a whisper! A whisper about Harry Potter. This was just too specific to write off as coincidence.
Just in time for Vernon to finish his coffee, Petunia came into the living room with two cups of tea. He cleared his throat nervously.
"Er- Petunia", Vernon began, "Have you heard from your sister recently?"
As per usual, Petunia looked at him in a shocked look that one might usually reserve for a murder, or a nasty criminal. After all, they usually pretended she had so sister.
"No", she said sharply, "Why?"
"Well, um… you see… the news has said the funniest things", Mr. Dursley mumbled, "Owls… shooting stars… and funny looking people in cloaks today…"
"So?" snapped his beloved wife.
"Well, it occurred to me as I walked down to buy a pastry this morning that they might be, you know, of her crowd"
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea in great tension over this new discovery. Her husband on the other had sat with stress so great that he actually began to perspire over whether he dared to tell her he had heard the name 'Potter' or not.
Instead he chose a somewhat safer tactic.
"Their son- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so," his wife muttered coldly.
"What was his name again? Howard, isn't it?"
"Harry. Nasty, common as muck name, if you asked me."
"Oh yes" he said as his spirits sank to nothing, "I quite agree."
The poor old fool couldn't bear another word after this last toss at his reserves.
He went up to his bathroom and decided to get ready for bed. It just wasn't worth the stress.
Meanwhile on the street, long after the veil of night had fallen, another confrontation was about to begin.
At the end of Privet drive a bang similar to a gunshot could be heard as a very tall, and very old, man walked down the street. He had flowing silver hair that went down to his waist and a beard of equal length. On his rather crooked nose rested a pair of half moon spectacles.
He wore a large purple cloak, from which he pulled an engraved silver lighter.
After clicking it twelve times, every light on the block was consumed into the casing, and then he shut it.
The only light remaining were the bright balls of the cats eyes, which had not moved for since that morning.
The old man walked with a casual stroll down the street until he went to face the cat.
"And what might you be doing here Minevera?" he asked with glint of humor twinkling in his bright eyes.
Before him the cat turned into an extremely stern looking women, wearing a flowing green cloak with an annoyed look on her face.
"How did you know it was me, professor Dumbldore?" she asked in reply.
"Why my dear Minevera, I've never seen a cat sit so stiff", he said in a joking way.
"You'd be stiff too, if you sat on a brick wall all day", said professor McGonagall.
"All day you say? When I was kind enough to give everyone the day off? You should have been out and about celebrating with the others", Dumbledore commented as he looked at the Dursley's home, "I must have seen a dozen parties on my way here today".
She sniffed angrily, "Yes, partying. It seems in just one day everyone has forgotten all about the fact that we are a secret society". She looked at the television in the Dursley living room, "Even the muggles have begun to notice. Fireworks… owls… and many members of our world wandering about without any disguise".
"You can't really blame the fools", Albus said in reply, "We have had precious little to celebrate these past few years".
"I know", said professor McGonagall irritably, "But that does not make an excuse for so openly gallivanting about without so much as a concealment on their activities. People are spreading rumors you know. About what really happened".
She cast a sideways glance at Dumbledore and continued, "It would be a fine thing if the day you-know-who disappeared our society was discovered. He is gone isn't headmaster?"
"It does appear so doesn't it?" he reached inside his pocket and pulled at a small bag of candies, "Lemon drop?"
"A What?"
"Why, lemon drops of course. They are a muggle sweet I have grown quite fond of over the years."
"No thank you", she said coldly as if this wasn't an appropriate time for lemon drops, "If it is true that you-know-who has gone-"
"Professor please, I would think that you were a bit to smart to fall into that old habit. Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. Call him Voldemort".
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Albus was a bit busy removing two lemon drops that had stuck together.
He continued, "Honestly I've never known why people have ever been scared of calling by his name in the first place. It gets confusing with all this you-know-who nonsense, just call him Voldemort."
"Well that may be easy for you to say", Professor McGonagall said, "We both know that you were the only one that you-know-oh, all right, Voldemort, was ever frightened of".
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly, "He had powers that I know not".
"Okay, but the owls are nothing compared to the rumors that have been flying around. What was it that finally stopped him?"
It had appeared that McGonangall had finally reached the point in the discussion that she had been pointing to all evening. Neither as cat nor women had she given Albus as piercing a look as she did now.
And he could feel her trying to pierce more that just his gaze.
"Legitamency will get you nothing from me, professor", the Headmaster of Hogwarts said with his humor turned suddenly cold.
"I'm sorry professor, but I had to know", she said causally trying to change the subject from the fact that she had just attempted to read a master legitamens mind, "I felt you wouldn't tell me".
"That is were you are wrong", he said as he reached slowly to his cloak pocket, "I was about to sing like a canary".
If it hadn't been for the lack of light McGonangall might have seen him point his wand towards her head, but as it is, she did not see.
"Now my dear professor, I'm afraid you've seen just a bit to much if you know where this house is", Dumbledore said coldly.
"You can't possibly mean? The rumors are true aren't they!" she exclaimed in hushed excitement.
"They are in deed", he replied coldly, "And this is where the boy is to spend his days. Stan, is that you in the distance?"
Professor McGonagall turned to see a rather stout man in an urban camouflage styled cloak walking forward. He had short brown hair in a military style and a serious of scars that implied his combat uniform wasn't just for show.
"I have surveyed surrounding landscape and set up a base camp for my surveillance detail", Stan said in a rough accent.
"Excellent my American friend, so everything is prepared for the arrival of the package then?" The headmaster asked as his ally walked into their little circle in front of the house.
"Yes", Stan said in reply, "Are you positive that these charms on this place will hold seventeen years? I placed magic sensors all around the city and this house isn't being picked out over any other."
Albus chuckled, "This is an ancient magic you know not Stan. They will hold".
McGonagall, who had been watching this little exchange in utter surprise had realize what it meant that Stan was here in the first place.
"You there, American. You are obviously one of the elite warrior warlocks we all have heard so much about, but America pulled back all of their troops after the third year of the war with Voldemort. Here you are eight years later", she said in disbelief.
The American changed his gaze to the professor, "Who is she? I was under the impression that the only three people to be at this meeting would be you, the transport, and myself."
The headmaster of Hogwarts laughed once more at his employee's confusion.
"It appears she discovered the location before I was made secret keeper of this residence. She is one of my better and more free thinking teachers", he replied with I twinkle in his gaze.
"Why are you here in the first place, Stan is it? Rumors of what took place last evening have been spreading all across our world and now some American soldier shows his face in some remote muggle settlement."
The three were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle in the distance.
"Well my dear friend, McGonangall, it appears our time has run out", Dumbledore said coolly as he lit the wand he had been pointing at her for the past five minutes.
"Whatever do you mean-?"
"Obliviate"
The transfiguration teacher fell to the ground, unconscious from the sudden rearrangement of her memories.
"Stan, I would appreciate if you could take her back to Hogwarts grounds… unseen".
"Yes, sir" the American combatant said with a salute.
With that, Stan tossed McGonagall over his shoulder and apparated away, leaving Dumbledore with the upcoming Hagrid.
The half-giants tearful goodbyes did tug on the Headmasters heart, but he assured him that this was not goodbye forever…
After all, he had plans for Harry Potter.
~The Previous Morning in America~
The morning began early for Brian Dumbledore. After all, when you were the proud owner of your very own magic shop you didn't have time to sleep.
Of course this wasn't real magic after all, now that would be absurd. Showing real magic to the greater part of Chicago? The government would have his head for that.
Not to say magic wasn't real. On the contrary, Brian Dumbledore, his wife Jane, and their one-year-old son were a few of the registered wizards that the government kept a tab on.
The reason Brian couldn't sell anything of real magic was, despite the fact that the highest levels of muggle government (i.e. president and his secret service) knew of magic's existence, that is were it ended.
No one outside the small communities of wizards that sprouted up in major cities knew of magic's existence and they were under the strictest orders to never reveal their powers to the general public.
Of course there is always the occasional mishap, u.f.o sightings, ghosts, and other such things, but the government always managed to cover it up.
None of this truly concerned Brian though, he was a clever man who, although his career is in selling magic, he has never once come close to revealing this secret.
Even if he had it wouldn't have mattered, his skill with memory charms is remarkable. When he went to magical school he even pursued courses based on that skill.
His professors begged him to pursue a career in something involving the mind, but he was a humble man and when he married his wife he decided it would be best for him to take the sure thing instead of pursuing a job in a line of work that didn't have many employment opportunities for a man who wouldn't have a pliable degree due to the nature of his school.
Thus he decided to take up his uncle's offer and letting him take ownership of one of his properties. Things started small, just a little conjuring to make some party favors, and soon he became the premier magic shop of lower Chicago.
It had been five years since then and life was wonderful.
Brian himself was a tall and somewhat lanky man with black hair and vivid blue eyes. He was the kind of man that people decided they could trust after looking at him once. For his work as a shop owner he usually wore an old magician's tuxedo.
His wife was a year younger than him and she never hesitated to remind him that of that fact. Jane had long, brown hair and hazel eyes. She was a beautiful woman and often helped Brian by posing as his assistant for the occasional promotional performance.
Their son, Mark, was a bit tall for one year old and was quickly learning how to walk. He had black hair and blue eyes like his father, despite that when people looked at him they saw more of his mother from the way his face looked.
Brian chuckled as he walked over to his son's crib and saw him kicking in his sleep. Yes his life was wonderful.
No rent too, because the building that they set up shop in had two more stories in which they lived.
After kissing his wife's cheek, as she was still asleep given it was five in the morning, he walked downstairs to check inventory. Afterwards he would adjust any un-orderly merchandise.
Then he goes up stairs to wake his lovely wife and rambunctious little son. Perhaps afterwards, if time allows, he would enjoy a light breakfast.
After all, you can't work on an empty stomach.
First thing's first, inventory.
Hmmm, everything seemed to be in order. The love charms, the fake crystal balls, and lets see… the imitation magic brooms, did someone actually try to sweep with one of those? Its edges are so frayed.
"Oh well", Brian thought, "I suppose I can always sell it as special style".
The young store keep then continued to open up the metal shutters. The early morning light shined in bringing new life to the tidy, little shop.
"Ah, what a pleasant day for Halloween", Brian said cheerfully, "With weather so nice, I'm sure to get plenty of last minute decorators and costume seekers".
He took care of the frayed broom and walked back up the steps to his humble home. His home might seem fine at first glance, but there was a bit more to it than that.
As a magic shop, you tend to attract a very limited clientele and business was poor. The Dumbledores had to discontinue their insurance plan in order to keep the water running.
They did, however, have very high hopes that this Halloween might be just the spur to kick up some new commerce.
He was very pleased to find his wife already up and about fixing up some breakfast. Little Mark was in the meantime trying to stumble his way across the floor with a look of pure determination on his face.
"Keep it up son. You'll get it down in a month or two", Brian said as he tussled his boy's hair.
His wife turned around in joy to see him back upstairs so soon, "I thought you weren't going to be done taking stock for another hour."
"Well, I was very enthusiastic yesterday if you remember", he told his wife.
"Oh I do, you wouldn't sit still in bed last night. I could barley get to sleep", she said with a smile.
"Ya, after you finally did manage to sleep I jumped back into my work clothes to finish up that display I told you about", Brian said as he smiled back at his wife.
"The one with the wizard hat and the old staff?" she asked.
"That's the one!" He answered with enthusiasm.
Brian gave his wife a kiss and sat down, propping his son up onto his knee. He ate the rest of breakfast while trying to get his boy to say 'daddy'.
After breakfast it was time to go back down to run the shop for the day.
The rest of the morning and well into the afternoon went without a hitch. Many customers walked in and out spending all the while.
For the longest time it seemed that the Dumbledore's financial troubles were finally over.
By mid-afternoon Brian took a lunch break at the diner across the street. With his stomach now full of delectable deli style sandwiches, he was ready to face the much busier afternoon.
And what an afternoon it proved to be. The young man sold enough memorabilia and fake magic gags to double his profit for the entire month of October.
With this income, not only would they be able to pay to re-insure the building, but also buy the material necessary to patch the leaky roof just in time for the winter months.
After a long day of work, long after darkness had fallen over the city landscape, Brian dragged himself up the spiral staircase in the middle of the shop to his home.
Once again his wife and son were ready and waiting to greet him.
"Here, I brewed a bit of coffee for you. It's not very fresh though, I thought you would be done hours ago", Jane said warmly as she handed her husband a mug of black coffee.
Brian gladly accepted it and thanked her, "Well, it might not be to fresh but it sure is delicious. Did you anything special to it?"
She looked at him with eyes full of appreciation, "No, it's the same as always, but thank you for the compliment".
"Any time dear", he said as he took a large swig. His gaze then drifted from his wife to his boy, "How has your day been Mark?"
The infant looked up at his father and laughed a little bit.
"What's so funny?" he asked the child.
His wife laughed a bit at him to, "Ha, you're upper lip, its covered in coffee".
Brian looked in a mirror and saw what they meant. He then felt his lip.
"A bit scraggly", he commented as he wiped his lip, "I think I need to shave."
"Well you could grow out a beard, didn't your father have one?" she asked her husband.
He took out the only tie he had to his father from his pocket, a picture of him that was labeled Ableforth. The man in the photo moved around a bit as any magical picture does. Brian put the picture back in his wallet.
"He did have quite the beard didn't he?" he thought out loud, "Maybe I will grow one. It could only help business to have a long wizard beard."
His wife pouted a bit, "There you go again with business. Why can't you relax a little? Huff, I suppose if we are on this topic we might as well discuss today's profit."
This had been what Brian had waited to hear. He pulled out a small metal box with a pad lock on the top. From the inside he showed his wife a large amount of the days income.
"You must be joking! Are little shop managed to scrape together that much in one day!" Jane exclaimed in delight.
"This isn't even all of it. I've got some set aside in our private fund so when the time comes we can get Mark a proper wand", he said as he shut the box.
"That is terrific!" she cheered out as she jumped into a hug in her husbands open arms.
Crash!
"What was that!" Jane screamed as she held Brian tighter.
"Probably just someone trying to get my attention. Perhaps somebody missed closing time and wanted to buy something", he said logically, "Keep Mark close while I check it out".
She nodded and grabbed their son in her arms and carried him away, much to his annoyance. Brian then walked right back down his stairs, leaving the money behind.
He pulled a fake wand off a shelf that doubled as a flashlight and shone it out over the store. His real wand, in the mean time, was safely within a sheaf on the inside of his tuxedo sleeve.
"Anyone there?" he called out over the shop.
The young man turned his flashlight wand to face the large windows that held his displays. As he flashed the light he saw something that shocked him.
Even though his iron shutters had been drawn down for the evening there was a huge hole threw the window and metal alike.
"How did-" he thought aloud as he heard a low panting noise, almost like an animal, coming from the corner, "Who's there! I warn you, I'm armed!"
He steadily walked around his shelves in the pitch-black darkness, with nothing but a dim light and his knowledge of the surroundings to guide him. Brian pointed his light were he heard the noise.
"Bloody Hell", he said in a quiet voice.
In the corner, gasping for breath like a wild beast was what looked like a man, but with a twist.
It was hunched over Brian, it was clothed in a long dark cloak that coverer the view of it's legs with a hood over its head. Its skin was a pale, bone white, that was completely smooth without any hair to be seen. The arms emerged midway threw the forearm out of the cloak sleeves; they held skeletal hands with sharp nails.
Most disturbing of all, however, was the face. The nose was normal enough, but there were no ears, just holes that were barely visible underneath the hood. The eyes were pitch black as if they belonged on dolls. Most disturbing of all by far was the mouth. It was wide open in a giant grin that literally went from ear to ear, bits of blood and saliva dripped from the sharp teeth and thin lips.
Just at that moment it looked up. "Guuuuuuuugh", it groaned lengthily.
Once it finished it charged.
"Ahhh!" Brain exclaimed in shock at the sudden attack, he drew his wand and quickly cast a spell to defend him, "Protego Maximus!"
A shimmering shield defended him on all sides. The beast hit it repeatedly, testing its limits. In the process of constantly charging mouth first the monster knocked over half the shelves.
"My inventory!" the young Dumbledore said in rage, "You've done it now beast. Out of all the shops in lower Chicago, you chose the wrong one! Stupefy!"
Red stunning shots came out of his wand as the creature ran a hunched over serpentine with its arms swinging at its sides.
Then the monster pulled out a wand of its own and returned fire.
Unlike Brian's wand that was a professionally made wand of oak with a dragon vein core, this enemies was a cracked a charred with bits of unicorn hair sticking out at odd angles.
The creature shot green blasts that began to break the shield.
"How is that possible? Petrificus Totalus!" Brian questioned the enemies actions as he shot a more powerful spell, "The only thing that could break a barrier this powerful would be…"
Brian dived down to the floor as he saw his theory prove true. He kept alive owl in the shop to spur business, but behind him it hung dead without a mark on it.
The fiend was shooting the killing curse at him.
The young man did his best army crawl behind a fallen shelve and started firing another wave of stupefy.
"Aroooou!" the beast cried out as a shot nicked it.
Brian risked looking up to see what was going on. To his complete despair, the creature was climbing his stairs in great bounds.
Bang!
"Jane!" he yelled as he followed into the lit home.
All the debris that it had left on its wake delayed his progress.
He panted himself after sprinting up the spiral staircase. When he reached the upper floor he was disturbed at what he saw.
His home, all his carefully and painstakingly earned belongings, was destroyed. The sound he had heard the moment before must have been some kind of potent explosive spell.
Brian quickly leaped his way threw all his destroyed possessions. He was guided by the incessant sound the beasts infernal panting.
Inside his room he saw a scene of conflict.
His wife was exchanging blasts for blast with the monster as she held Mark in her other arm. Brian ran in the room with appreciation for his wife.
The beast itself seemed to be deteriorating with every moment.
"Brian!" she yelled as let loose a flurry of stunning spells, "Take Mark and set him outside!"
He nodded to his wife and grabbed their son from her. Then the beast began sending out killing curses once more.
Every shot seemed to make the creature fade away into dust a bit more as if it couldn't harness the power to attack from its magical core, so it used its own life force instead.
A shot went right threw went right threw Jane's shield and into her chest. She was dead before she hit the ground.
"Jane!" He yelled at his wife's body.
The beast turned to face him, but as it did its entire form wavered and imploded into itself. It was there for a moment and then nothing.
Mark squirmed out of his father's arms and did his best to run to his mother.
"Momma!" the little boy said as he pushed her back and forth, "Momma wake up".
Brian Dumbledore picked up his son and took him to his crib. After that he prepared for the government inquiry that was sure to follow after such a repetitive use of combat spells.
In the hours that followed, his life began to sink more and more into despair.
The government officials did come, Brian thought they would help, but instead they did the unthinkable.
When he explained what had happened not only did they not believe his story of 'some grotesque fiend assaulting his home' they assumed that given he was the only magic user in the mile area and his wife laid dead he was the cause.
Needless to say, they snapped his wand and left his home in shambles.
Brian attempted to contact his in-laws about what had happened, but when the official government statement regarding his case and they decided that he killed their loved one they discontinued communication.
After a series of legal fights, and Mark showing utter disdain towards his mothers parents, Brian managed to gain custody of his son. Under extreme supervision of course.
Thus began Brian Dumbledore's meager existence as a poverty stricken muggle.
His home for five years taken from him, his savings confiscated, and his only blood relative alive being his son, he lived a hard life.
He was a broken man and in future years this would feed Mark's ambitions for greatness.
At this point the chain of reactions that made Mark Dumbledore the guard of Harry Potter began.
Ch. 1 Book 2 complete. Who's back story is more depressing, Mark's or Harry's? Comment your decision and I'll post the majority in the next chapter.