Summary: When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.
Warnings: Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.
A/N: So I've realized that I'm way ahead of schedule on my chapters, so I'd like to change my updates to at least every Friday. I would much rather post more than I say than less, so there you are. At the rate I'm writing, I will probably be posting up to three times a week, but that pace could very well change with homework and the like. So, for now, you'll probably see quite a few new updates. If you don't hear from me in a few days though, don't worry! I will make sure to always have at least one chapter up on Fridays. Thanks to everyone that has followed/favorited this story, and remember, authors love to hear reviews!
Chapter Three: Petunia's Bane
Aberforth was in a very foul mood as he reached the small, secular town of Little Whinging. Not knowing exactly where the boy's house was, he chose to Apparate quite a few blocks from Number 4, Privet Drive, as to avoid splinching himself again. The last time he had done this had been some time ago, in the early 1930s. He had only lost three fingers of his left hand, and they had quickly been reattached, but the experience was quite enough to make Aberforth wary of the process.
With a scowl in place and looking very out of sorts in his shabby wizard robes, he made his way down the pristine street, baring his teeth at any of those brave enough to glance his way. Numerous curtains were drawn as he passed them, which had amused Aberforth considerably. He bit down on his tongue to avoid outright laughing after the man watering his lawn had dropped the hose in shock, sending the contraption flying out of his hands and soaking everything in sight.
Finally, he approached a very unremarkable house, with a very unremarkable lawn and very unremarkable decor. Next to the door, a shiny black number four sat below the porch light. Aberforth sighed and made his way to the door, not failing to notice the startled shriek inside the house. He really had no set plan in place of what he would do, but instead felt that a bit of spontaneity would suit the situation well.
Rapping on the door, it was many moments before the lock finally clicked and the door opened up just enough to allow one, terrified eye to peer out.
"Who are you and what do you want?" a shrill female's voice hissed through the crack.
"My name is Aberforth Dumbledore, and I'm here about Harry Potter," he said slowly, forcing the irritation out of his tone and attempting to be polite. If anything, this seemed to scare the woman even more, and the door slammed shut abruptly, leaving a mildly startled Aberforth glaring at the peephole. "Now, Missus," he bit out, "there's no need to be rude, I just-"
He stopped as the door was flung open and he was pulled inside quickly. The thin, horse-faced woman quickly slammed the door shut behind him and ran to the windows, quickly scanning the neighborhood to make sure no one had noticed her visitor. She pulled the drapes shut and turned to him, her lips tightly pursed and her arms folded against her chest.
"Are you here to take the boy?" she said, eyes dancing with what Aberforth thought was barely contained excitement. "He's right in the other room, you know. They didn't leave him with anything, he'll be ready to go in just a moment," she said very quickly.
Stunned at the woman's reaction, he held up a hand. "Now wait just a minute, Mrs., uh-"
"Dursley. I will not have you under the impression that I am in any way associated with... with those freaks!" she screamed, color blushing her cheeks.
"Mrs. Dursley, then," he growled, suppressing his boiling anger at the Muggle. "I said nothing about taking the boy, I'm just here to check on his welfare."
"His welfare!" she screeched, and Aberforth fought with himself not to hex the woman into oblivion. "What about our welfare! We never asked to have that blasted child in our home! Take him! Take him, and never bother my home again!" With that, she promptly left the room, only to return moments later with a small, black haired child. His nappy had obviously not been changed in many hours, and dirt stained the side of his face. Aberforth took one look at the child and felt rage boiling inside him greater than he had felt in many decades.
"This is how you treat the Savior of our time?" he said, his voice trembling and barely above a whisper. "This... this place is where my brother has left him, only to be condemned by Muggles and treated no better than rubbish!" he roared, and a few portraits of a chubby blonde child fell off the wall, causing the woman to whimper.
"Take him," she repeated in a small, terrified voice. "Take him and leave. Never return to this place." She pushed the small child into his arms and ran out of the room, and Aberforth heard a loud bang as she slammed a door. This startled Harry, and he began wailing in Aberforth's arms. Not knowing quite what to do, he patted the boy's back.
"There there, little one, not a thing to be worried about," he told Harry in a soft voice. Startling green eyes gazed up at him through their tears, and the boy stopped crying, instead regarding him with curiosity. Aberforth smiled at the child, trying to reassure him the best he could. Casting a Disillusionment Charm on both of them, which caused Harry to let out a small giggle, he threw open the door and exited onto Privet Drive, hoping he wouldn't meet any obstacles along the way.
Harry was quiet for most of the trip, only letting out a small cry after Aberforth Apparated them to his rooms at the pub, wanting to avoid any possible interaction with others. The room was the same as he'd left it, as always, and he sighed quite loudly, removing the charm and gazing at the small child in his arms.
"What are we to do now, Harry?" he asked the boy, who regarded him with a calm, steady gaze. He sighed again. "Well, I wouldn't suppose you would know, would you?"
Unable to leave the boy alone, but unable to let anyone see him, Aberforth was in a bind. Transfiguring some of the old newspapers into a shanty wooden crib with scarce padding, he set the boy down softly. He picked up a rubber stress ball that had been sitting on his desk and cast a cleansing charm over the surface. He handed it to Harry, who cooed in delight and grabbed the ball from his hands.
"There you are, Harry. I need to peek my head out of the room for just a moment, don't you go getting into any trouble," he told the boy, who had promptly tried to shove the ball into his mouth. Thankfully, it was much too large to fit, and Aberforth was glad that choking could be removed from the list of things he had to worry about right now. Opening the door to the pub just enough to stick his head through, he yelled, "Kravis!"
The thin man appeared within seconds, looking just as nervous as he had when Aberforth had left that morning.
"Mr. Dumbledore? What is it?" he asked shyly, appearing as if he was bracing himself for a blow.
"I'll need you to make a few orders for a very important guest we will be serving," he said, inwardly cursing himself for not casting a silencing charm around the boy's crib. Harry hadn't made any noise so far, and he hoped to keep the conversation short enough that it wouldn't become a problem.
"Of course, sir. I have the order form underneath the bar," he said, and Aberforth stopped him before he could retrieve it.
"No, Kravis, we won't be needing the order form," he said stiffly. "This is a private matter for our guests, and we wouldn't want to lose business, would we?" he growled, and Kravis seemed to shrink into himself.
"N-no, of course not, sir. What is it that they need?" he said, casting a nervous glance around. "It's not... Well, it's not illegal, is it, sir?" he asked in a whisper, becoming far too dramatic for Aberforth's tastes.
"Of course not, boy! Now quit asking inane questions and remember what you need to purchase!" he said angrily, losing his temper with the barkeep. Kravis just nodded quickly, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat. "Right then," Aberforth said, forcing himself to calm down. "The guests we are serving have a young child that will need food. Head over to Barnaby's and pick up enough to last at least a week."
"What exactly do young children eat?" the barkeep asked quietly, obviously fearful of the older man's response.
"For god sakes, Kravis!" he roared. "Use your head and ask Barnaby!" The younger man jumped, but nodded in agreement. "They will also be needing a few supplies, as all of the child's bags were lost at the Ministry checkpoint. Blasted incompetent fools they are, those Ministry workers," he muttered, straying off into an old dislike that everyone who knew him was very familiar with. The barkeep cleared his throat, and Aberforth came back to his senses. "Just the basics, Kravis. Get some nappies fit for a one year old, and some robes. Maybe a few toys as well," he added, thinking of how terrible toddlers were when they became bored. "That should be everything." Kravis nodded and turned to go retrieve the supplies, but Aberforth stopped him with a shout. "Kravis!"
"Yes, sir?"
"If you have any questions, make sure that you don't ask me," he growled, and slammed the door to his rooms shut behind him.