So this is what happened in the HP universe. Note that it is 4AM and I started writing this an hour ago so it's not revised or anything but I hope you enjoy it anyhow. THERE WILL BE A PART 2 of the shit that went on in the HP universe after Harry bailed! Yay!
Thanks for the reviews prompting me to do this, as I was planning to maybe do it later on but it wasn't certain and I'm rambling but yea, thanks.
I own only the things you don't recognize.
When Severus Snape heard the news, he stormed out of the headmasters office with shaking hands and his mind in a blur. He'd failed her. He failed Lily in helping her protect her son. He should've stepped in and done something. Even though he looked like his father- even though he knew that Harry Potter was nothing like James- he still let the horrendous actions towards the boy continue. He let another child go through what he went through at school, right under his nose. He wished, oh how he wished for a second chance-
But it was too late.
The corpse of Harry Potter was found by Hagrid. The groundskeeper rarely sees the boy, having been told by Dumbledore to give him space, as he might not be the saviour everyone wished him to be; and could be a potential threat. The half-giant sat by the bloodied body of the dead boy for a good half an hour. Repeating a mantra to Lily and James, hoping they'd forgive him for not protecting their boy, for not being there to guide him through his hardships.
Severus' shoulders trembled as he finally reached his office. He hadn't felt this cold since Lily died. Collapsing at his desk, he tried to keep his emotions in check. With trembling hands, he pulled out the photo album that he kept locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.
In the album were photos of him and Lily throughout their years at school- up to fifth year at least. After that time, it was only just photos of her that he took from a distance. He knew it was wrong to do so. However with the circumstances they were living in, with the dark Lord and all, he didn't figure he'd have much time left to live.
At that time, he's just a boy caught up in war.
How he wished he could go back and apologize to the girl whom he loved. However, after she died he swore to myself that he would protect her son. After failing her that many times, you'd figure that he would succeed in protecting her through Harry, but look how much he fucked that up.
He had taken Harry's memories, and he was afraid of what he was going to see. The swirling silver moved violently in the vial, as if it was wishing desperately to escape.
He didn't want to sympathize with the Potter boy, but he had to do it. If not for the boy that he failed at protecting, then he could at least do it for Lily.
But first, he seriously needed a drink.
Hagrid was patrolling the Hogwarts grounds early in the morning when he saw the broken body of the boy who laid there, body blue in the snow. He shakily breathed in a breath of air before running as fast as he could to the child.
Of course, he arrived far too late. The boy was long since dead.
He couldn't bring yourself to do anymore then collapse on top of the cold corpse, letting out loud, mournful cries. The child he had watched from afar, but hadn't gotten close to due to an old fool's intervention was lying motionless in the snow.
The boys green eyes were staring towards the east, Hagrid absentmindedly noted that he was most likely staring at the sunrise as he died. If he wasn't, all he saw before his death were the dimming lights of the stars above. Which meant he wasn't given any hope that came with the impending sunrise. Hagrid would much rather think that Harry had seen the sun before he passed.
So that's how he convinced himself that what Harry's last vision was before he died wasn't all that bleak.
When Dumbledore heard the news, to say he was stressed was an understatement. They were only two boys that fit the prophecy. And though he thought Neville was the better candidate, he couldn't help but feel agitated due to the fact that he lost a spare.
The Longbottom boy was filled with potential. He had the perfect lack of self preservation to fit the hero stereotype that the wizarding world needed.
Not to mention the fact that nobody would miss him too much, should his grandmother pass.
At first, when he first heard of the prophecy and it's candidates, he'd hoped it would've been Harry. The boy, by what he could tell when he was with his parents, was perfect hero material. But then when he arrived at the school and was sorted into the House with complete opposite ideals of what he needed for a scapegoat, he decided to use Neville instead.
It wouldn't have mattered much in the end anyhow, all they needed was someone to save them. Someone to look good on the front cover. He didn't care much about the rest, he would just have to make do with the final candidate.
He was also worried about how the news of the death of a boy who survived the killing curse would affect the population. Perhaps you should keep it under wraps, and just say it was an animal that had killed him when he was out. He knew the right healers to talk to you in order to forge the documents. All he needed was the money, and he could get that from the Potter vaults.
Seeing as Harry didn't have any remaining magical kin, his money would go to his acting magical guardian. Which in this case, was Dumbledore.
With all the added interest rates over the past decade and a half, as well as stock holdings and Wizengot seats, within the next 24 hours, Dumbledore would be the richest and most influential man in Great Britain.
Should everything go to plan, that is.
With Potter's memories in a vial clenched tightly in his hand, The potions professor tipped over the vial into the pensive. As the silver quickly melded into black, it filled up the bowl and before he could change his mind, he dunked his head in.
"Boy, what happened to the toast?!" A feminine voice screeched out towards a figure that couldn't be any more than five years old.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia, the eggs were starting to burn and-"
The lady Severus had known from his childhood slapped the boy across his face before grabbing his arm.
"I don't want to hear any excuses! Do you know what happens to toast when it stays in the toaster too long?!" She screeched, before jerking his arm to the stove and holding it over the fire.
"This is what happens! It burns, and wastes the money that we earned in order to feed our family with good food! Food that worthless scum like you do not deserve." Despite the evident pain on his face, the boy did not scream and endured the squawking of the person who was only his aunt by blood.
Seemingly pleased at the lack of reaction from the boy, she hauled him over to the sink and rinsed his hand under the water for a few seconds, before instructing him to go to his cupboard.
"Three days, boy! No food." She called out after him.
As the memory shifted into another one, he was faced with the boy looking exactly the same, but perhaps a year or two older sitting in his cupboard in the middle of the night.
Harry had a flashlight with him. It was dim sure, but it was something. He could pretend pretty well.
"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Harry, happy birthday to me." He sang out in a small voice before blowing out the eight candles on a cake drawn in the dust of his cupboard wall.
Severus always knew the boy was small for his age, but to this extent to where he looked like a six year old when he was eight? How could anyone not have noticed the obvious neglect Harry had endured?
With the blowing of the dust, the scene changed once again.
With a smug look hidden behind the twinkle in his eye, he entered the ministry with all the intention to inherit the Potter influence and house. Dumbledore stepped into one of the many elevators that zoomed around the place, and before he knew it, he was dead.
His death wasn't intentional, mind you. It was merely a escaped pet from Newt Scamander's suitcase that had flown up Dumbledore's nose half an hour ago when they passed each other in the floo terminals. After Dumbledore took it for dust and sneezed the creature out before going on his way, and Newt stuffing the pet back in the suitcase right after, neither of the men thought much more of it. But the damage has already been done, and Albus Dumbledore had been killed before he could do anything more to further ruin people's lives.
When they couldn't find a reason as to why the old man had died, they simply chalked it up to natural causes and let the papers and public think whatever they wanted to think. The reason why they couldn't find anything was due to the both the fact that the wizarding physical examinations at a microscopic level was less than competent, and the fact that the creature that had escaped merely suggested the cells in one's body to stop replicating, and instead die. It was very persuasive. On a microscopic level, that is.
Instead, an internal private care holder was assigned to both the Dumbledore's inheritance case as well as the Potter's. All of the previously sealed wills and transactions were now out in the open, and when Madam Gloria Rhys read the Potter's last will and testament, she ran to the minister and showed it to him. With him paling to a shade that was blanker than a sheet, he floo-called the prison where a wrongfully convicted inmate was being kept.
Extract from 'Firewhisky Flame's' hit single, "Mother's Eyes", written about the war and how the lead singer was left with his daughter when his wife was killed in one of the last death eater raids before the war ended.
[is actually written by the author of this fic]
"Oh how I wish I had the hollows,
Not all three; just the stone if I may.
All I wish is to see my loved one's face,
Before her life was stolen away.
She was too kind and good for this world,
So she had to bid goodbye.
I see her everyday in our daughter's eyes,
In her, she'll never die."
