The Phantom of Hogwarts

Chapter One

(Disclaimer: Anatole Garron and his story are the only things that belong to me.)

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit violent and I apologize for that and if any of you have problems with stuff like that then don't read it. For those of you, who can enjoy, please do!

11 years later...

It was a rather cheerful summer afternoon. The sun was high in the sky and generously pouring down comfortable heat though a gentle breeze took the edge off the warmth, the sea of deep green grass speckled with wildflowers gently stirred in the wind, and the constant chatter songbirds added to the serenity of the day.

Seated on a thick blanket with her fan fluttering close to her face, Madeline Harquin smiled as she watched the butterflies flutter from one flower to the next. One elegant butterfly rested near Madeline's hand. It was an intriguing creature with wings of light blue and white. The same shade of light blue that resided in her son's eyes. The boy in question was running through the fields in front of Madeline and was laughing happily as his younger sister hurried to catch up.

Eleven years had passed since the night of Erik's birth and the boy had grown much during those years. He was tall for his age and thin due to both his typical boyish need for play and his far less than typical lack of interest in food. Erik's black hair had grown out from the fuzz it had once been and was always trimmed short and combed back behind his ears. His dark eyes had grown to an ice blue with age but had never lost their intensity.

Erik was quite the intellectual excelling in fields far beyond that of his peers. Erik was a talented musician and composer able to sit at the piano for hours on end to create beautiful music. Erik had a fondness for architecture as well and constantly astonished his tutor with his various designs. However, despite these good aspects Erik had many equally bad qualities, which Charles always felt was appropriate to highlight.

Writing was the one subject that seemed to escape Erik's mastery. His handwriting was very poor and his signature was near illegible. Though Erik had the capacity to improve getting the boy to sit down and practice his letters was a process that mirrored that of pulling teeth and was a severe form of punishment.

But Charles never complained about Erik's penmanship as much as he did about Erik's face. Erik's deformity had grown along with the rest of his face and, much to Madeline's relief; it hadn't spread further or hindered any of his senses. Still Charles had forced the boy to wear a white leather mask to hide his birthmark and beat Erik badly if the boy protested or refused to wear it. Now Erik never left his bedroom without the mask firmly clasped to his face. His younger sister Elaina had never seen her brother without it.

Elaina, Erik's junior by two years, was the mirror image of her mother. Elaina had long blonde hair and sparkling blue-green eyes. The nine-year-old girl was her brother's constant companion and adored him with the simple yet profound love that every child exhibits toward an older sibling. Erik loved her just as much and was fiercely protective of her. Elaina was Charles's dream come true because she was a perfectly formed healthy child and he was lucky to have her.

The past eleven years had not been kind to Madeline and Charles's marriage. Charles, wishing to distance himself as far from Erik as he could, was a source of both emotional and physical torment for the boy. He berated the boy for the smallest mistake, openly mocked his deformed face, and acted oblivious to his intellectual achievements.

Madeline, however, treated Erik as if he were a normal child and it was through her intervention that Erik was allowed to have a proper bedroom, new and clean clothes, a chance to play outside, and a place at the supper table. It was a bit of a miracle that Elaina had come into the world at all.

Madeline sighed softly but managed a smile when Elaina skipped over to her mother and abruptly thrust a handful of freshly picked wildflowers in Madeline's face.

"Aren't the flowers pretty, Mama?" Elaina asked eagerly.

"Of course, dearest. I'll put them in water when we get home. Erik, make sure you eat something before we go back. You won't get anything else before supper." Madeline instructed.

Erik reluctantly nodded and nibbled half heartedly on the piece of bread Madeline had given him, "Yes, Mother. Isn't Father entertaining those prospective clients tonight?" Erik muttered.

"Yes. The Martins I believe they're called." Madeline answered.

"Will I have to sit in my room while they're here?" Erik inquired uneasily.

"I don't see why you should. You can play the piano for them after dinner. I'm sure they would love that." Madeline said firmly.

"But Father says…" Erik murmured.

"I don't care, Erik. I am not about to let you sit up in your room while we have guests over just for the sake of your father's pride. If he makes a fuss I will handle him." Madeline interrupted.

"You don't have to, Mother. It's really no trouble besides my tutor assigned me all this work…" Erik said quickly.

"You are going, Erik, and that is final. Now eat." Madeline snapped.

Subdued Erik nervously swallowed the bit of bread and under his mother's stern gaze he sampled the other foods that she had brought along. Elaina favored her brother with a reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand.

That evening Erik prepared for the upcoming dinner. He donned his best suit, combed back his hair, and gently washed the marred side of his face before securing his mask in place. He also tried to calm the butterflies that were fluttering like mad in his stomach. Erik knew his father wouldn't be pleased to see him downstairs while guests were there. However, his mother had insisted and Erik loved her too much to deny her anything.

Taking a deep breath Erik slowly made his way downstairs just before the Martins were to arrive and his father had any time to frighten him back upstairs.

Charles, Madeline, and Elaina were already seated in the parlor. Father was wearing a larger version of Erik's suit save for the fact that Charles wore a deep red cravat and matching vest while Erik's cravat and vest were black. Madeline was like an angel in her white evening gown, matching gloves, and pearls while her gold hair was plaited into an elegant bun with pearl hair pins. Elaina looked ten years older in her delicate pink dress and small white gloves and her beautiful blonde curls tied back with white bows.

As Erik had expected Charles was not happy to see him. "If you have any common sense in that so-called genius head of yours you will get back upstairs right now, boy." Charles growled.

"Erik has as much right to be down here as Elaina does. After dinner he can play the piano while I sing for the guests." Madeline said sternly.

"Very well but you'd be wise to keep your mouth shut unless I say so. No one is to mention his mask. I won't have your ugly face ruining my evening. Do you understand, boy?" Charles demanded.

"Yes sir." Erik said quietly.

"Papa, you're mean." Elaina said as Erik sat down on the sofa in between Madeline and her.

Before Charles could respond there was a knock on the door and moments later the butler showed the Martins into the parlor. The Martins were an older couple. Mr. Martin was a rather chubby man with a full head of silver hair and laughing brown eyes. Mrs. Martin was a plump woman whose wrinkled face was relaxed in a pleasant grin and her emerald eyes sparkled as she smiled. Erik reluctantly found himself relaxing slightly.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Martin. I'm so glad you could come. May I introduce my lovely wife Madeline and my daughter Elaina?" Charles said in a slimy tone that made Erik want to gag.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Harquin. I can see where your daughter gets her beauty from." Mr. Martin purred.

Madeline smiled sweetly, "Thank you so much, Mr. Martin."

"Who is this fine young gentleman?" Mrs. Martin asked.

Before either Madeline could say anything Charles spoke up, "This is Erik, our adopted son. As I told you before Madeline and I adopted him when he was a mere child. Would've lived on the streets as a criminal for the rest of his days if my wife and I hadn't taken pity on the poor unfortunate boy. Isn't that right, Erik?" Charles said smoothly.

Madeline clenched her fists and fought to prevent herself from speaking for fear she might scream instead. Erik took care to keep his face and posture stoic. Charles merely smiled at the two of them.

"Yes sir." Erik said through gritted teeth.

"Such a noble thing to do. The more urchins off the street the better. You and your husband are very generous, Mrs. Harquin." Mrs. Martin commented merrily.

Luckily the maid arrived before Madeline could unleash her fury and announced that dinner was served. Elaina appeared very confused as the Harquins and their guests sat down for dinner. A firm glance from Charles warned Elaina to be silent. Dinner was a grueling affair as Erik fought to finish his meal and endure the conversation which consisted mostly of the Martins praising Charles for his seemingly noble actions of bringing a street child into his home.

"Poor boy's mother was most likely a lady of the night. Filthy creatures the lot of them. Probably why the boy needs that mask." Mr. Martin commented.

Madeline grew pale and Erik fixed Mr. Martin with a hateful glare as the pompous man laughed and sipped from his wine glass. In his mind Erik could picture that glass shattering into a million pieces pelting the vulgar man's face and suit with champagne and glass shards.

Everyone at the table gasped when Mr. Martin's glass suddenly burst splashing champagne and tiny pieces of glass on the front of his waistcoat and shirt.

"Are you all right, Mr. Martin? I'm so sorry. The maid will fetch you a towel right away." Charles apologized.

The maid brought a towel and Mrs. Martin dabbed at her husband's face and shirt, "Harold, are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

To everyone's surprise Mr. Martin chuckled deeply, "No trouble, Martha. I haven't lost my firm grip after all!" Mr. Martin said looking quite pleased with himself.

Despite this reassurance Charles fixed Erik with an accusing glare and again Erik wasn't surprised. Ever since he had been able to walk Erik had been blamed for everything that went wrong whether he was the culprit or not. Erik desperately tried to project innocence and prayed that this incident would slip Charles's mind as the evening went on.

Luck seemed to be on Erik's side that night. Mr. Martin was given a new glass and jokingly promised not to break the new one. Erik didn't dare look his father or Mr. Martin in the eye. Dinner passed on without further incident and the conversation shifted to business matters. Erik managed to eat more than he usually did and bade Elaina good night when she was dismissed after dinner.

"Why don't we retire to the music room? My wife is a fabulous singer and Erik is a decent enough pianist. We can discuss the account afterwards." Charles suggested.

"Certainly, Mr. Harquin." Mr. Martin said happily.

Madeline squeezed Erik's shoulder comfortingly as they went into the music room. Erik took his place at the piano and Madeline stood beside him her hand still resting on his shoulder. With her angelic soprano Madeline sang popular songs while Erik astonished the guests with his talent for music as his fingers danced on the piano keys.

During this time Charles had shrewdly whisked Mr. Martin away to his study for a brandy and cigars. Mrs. Martin was easy enough to amuse with the songs and Madeline's gift for idle chat. Erik had left the music room with his mother's blessing and hurried up to his room. Once inside Erik threw off his mask. The hated thing crashed into the wall over his bed and landed noiselessly on his pillows.

Erik flung himself onto the bed beside the mask, buried his face in the pillows, and for the first time in a long time he wept until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

The distant sound of a door slamming and his mother's shouting awakened Erik a short time later. Wiping the tears from his eyes Erik left his bedroom and crept down the stairs to the closed mahogany doors that allowed entry to his father's private study. Erik knelt down on the floor and peered into the keyhole.

Charles was seated at his desk leaning back in his chair and smoking a cigar. Madeline was standing in front of the desk nearly blocking Erik's view through the keyhole.

"Charles, how can you just lounge like that after the lies you spewed to the Martins? Erik is your son!" Madeline snapped.

Charles shrugged and blew a smoke ring, "I don't see what the problem is, Madeline. Mr. Martin was so moved by my charitable acts that he signed over the account to me and didn't try bargain with me over the expenses. Tonight was a success." Charles said calmly as if the topic of conversation was the weather.

"You lied! You told a pair of clients that you adopted Erik out of the goodness of your heart, when in truth the only charitable thing you ever did was to permit your son to be downstairs while they were here!" Madeline cried.

"It's better than admitting that I sired a freak! Adoption made it sound as if I had a choice in the matter! That is if that little bundle of misery really is my flesh and blood." Charles growled.

"Erik is your son, Charles! I swear to it!" Madeline said quickly, the panic rising in her voice.

"The little creep doesn't even look like me or you or any of our other relatives." Charles retorted.

"Erik looks like my grandfather James. That's why Erik is named after him. You never met him. He died before the two of us began courting." Madeline explained.

"Spare me your lies, Madeline. I met your grandmother and one of her favorite pastimes was talking about how your golden curls and sea green eyes reminded her of her dearly departed husband." Charles snarled.

"She was old, Charles, and not well in the head!" Madeline screamed.

"I trust her word more than I trust you. You filthy backstabbing whore!" Charles yelled as he lunged forward and struck Madeline hard across the face causing her to fall to the floor.

"Who is the boy's father, Madeline? Tell me!" Charles screamed he grabbed Madeline by the wrists and shook her violently.

"Get away from her!" Erik cried as he burst into the office.

Charles and Madeline stared at Erik with shock and Erik quickly understood why. Erik had left his mask behind in his room. Madeline was weeping as she beheld her son's naked face but Charles was seething with rage as he released Madeline and grabbed Erik instead.

"How dare you come down here without your mask and interrupt my business, boy! I should've smashed your ugly little skull in at birth!" Charles raged.

Before Erik could do anything Charles's large fist came into contact with Erik's half formed nose. Erik cried out in pain and threw up his hands to avoid more blows but the sickening crack of bone in his left wrist prevented that line of defense. Erik shrieked like a wounded animal, closed his eyes tightly, and dropped to his knees. This did nothing to stop Charles from knocking Erik to the floor and viciously kicking him in the ribs. Erik curled into a tight ball to avoid the blows and with a cry threw up his hands once more

Frightened cries from both Charles and Madeline were produced as Charles was suddenly catapulted across the room and smashed into the bookshelves on the opposite side of the study. Charles fell to the ground knocked out cold. Madeline saw her chance and sprang from the ground with renewed energy and grabbed Erik.

Erik crumpled into her arms not fighting as his mother dragged him into the parlor and lay him on the sofa.

"Please don't move, Erik. I beg you. I'll be right back. I'm going to go get your sister and tell the servants to prepare the carriage for us. Don't move!" Madeline whispered as she hurried out of the parlor still clothed in the fine gown she had worn for dinner. The gown's pristine white material was now dotted with patches of fresh blood. Erik's blood.

As he waited for Madeline to return Erik fought to stay awake but the dizziness and nausea was too much for him. Erik leaned over the side of the sofa and wretched violently. When he was done Erik collapsed against the sofa cushions. His arm felt as if it was on fire and blood was slowly dripping from his nose while his chest ached with each breath he took.

As he allowed the darkness to overcome him Erik faintly wondered if what Charles had accused Madeline of was true and that Charles was not his birth father. Erik certainly hoped so. As he drifted off to sleep Erik found himself fantasizing about how his true father would never raise his voice to him much less break his nose.