Thank you to everyone who story alerted/favourited this story, and thank you especially to those of you who reviewed! I'm going to start replying to every review I get now (unless I'm swamped by them). I can't believe how much support this story has!
I promised a little action in this chapter - there's not too much, but there's some. Hopefully there'll be more next chapter. This chapter mostly switches between Harry and Ashton.
Anyway, here's chapter five! Hope you enjoy!
A Stolen Childhood
Chapter Five: Tarnish the Soul
"Why did you never tell me?"
Albus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, watching as the angry teen in front of him glared accusingly at him through emerald-green eyes. It was inevitable that he would be aggravated after seeing the article in the newspaper. Not for the first time, Albus wished the Daily Prophet were more tactical.
"Why not? I'm apparently supposed to be some 'saviour of the wizarding world', but you've never told me anything! Why did you keep it a secret?" Ashton was normally far more contrite than this, but the burden that had just been placed on him was immense, and no fifteen-year-old would have even the slightest idea of what to do.
James opened his mouth as if to say something, and Lily looked more sorrowful at each of Ashton's words, but neither of them said anything as Albus began to explain. "We wanted you to be normal, Ashton," he said. "There was no proof Voldemort would return - all evidence suggested he had been destroyed, and that even if he did return, it would take twenty years or more. We did not expect him to return so suddenly, and for him to have two heirs as well."
Ashton scowled, a look that was unbecoming to the young Gryffindor. "But there was a prophecy. Why are you still keeping me in the dark about that? And how am I supposed to save the world? It's not like I can go up to Voldemort and hug him in the middle of a battle or something! You keep talking about love and how it's going to defeat him, but how?"
"Patience, my boy, I will explain. One of the reasons we have never told you about the prophecy is that it is extremely confusing and abstract, and we only know half of it anyway."
The teen's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Sybil Trelawney was interrupted halfway through. She said the rest of the prophecy later, and the only person who heard it refuses to tell us."
"Who was that?" said Ashton, uncharacteristically demanding.
Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Sebastian Selwyn, one of the Death Eaters who accompanied Snape when he overheard the prophecy. He followed Professor Trelawney and heard the other half of the prophecy."
"So Voldemort knows the full prophecy?"
"No. Selwyn was apprehended by Aurors and sentenced to Azkaban. Voldemort doesn't know there is a second half to the prophecy, and Selwyn is becoming... quite mad." Albus hesitated, then said, "To answer your earlier question, about love -"
"Yes?" asked Ashton, with a look that meant Albus had better give a good explanation, or else.
"When your brother died for you, he created a shield between you and Voldemort. Just because he is dead does not mean the shield has gone. Instead, it is kept alive by two things."
"What?" Ashton asked impatiently.
"Your ability to love," said Dumbledore. "He died for you because he loved you. And your innocence. It was an innocent sacrifice of life that saved you, Ashton, so your innocence keeps it alive. That was part of the reason we have kept things from you for so long." He considered, then decided to tell him. "But love may not be enough to defeat him a second time. Love is one of the most powerful magical concepts, but Voldemort has spent a long time honing his craft. It is likely he had figured out how you defeated him and found a way to prevent it happening again."
"So you're saying we're doomed?" asked Ashton incredulously. "That since love won't work, Voldemort has basically won?"
"No," said Dumbledore. "There's still the prophecy, and over the next year at Hogwarts I am going to train you."
Ashton stared in disbelief. "Train me? Why only now?"
"Because we wanted you to be normal, Ash," said Lily quietly, and Ashton turned to face her. "We had no idea Voldemort might return, and you'd already defeated Voldemort before, when your - when Harry d-died." She looked like she was about to cry. "You were the Boy-Who-Lived, and you've had to cope with so much - all the media, and the pressure, and your brother dying... we didn't want to put any more burdens on your shoulders. It's not fair that you have to do this."
Ashton turned back to Dumbledore, who nodded. "It isn't fair you life has been shrouded in darkness," said Dumbledore. "We wanted for you to be as normal as possible. To grow up with little cares and worries, rather than adult ones." He took a deep breath. "But now Voldemort has returned that's not possible anymore."
The young boy looked taken aback. "So you kept everything from me... because you wanted me to be a normal kid?" He resisted the urge to smooth his hair down over his scar, as he often did when he felt self-conscious.
"No child should have to cope with what you have, Ashton," said Albus gently. "Most people don't know or understand what it's been like for you to lose your twin."
Ashton nodded slowly. "I know. People don't..." he fumbled, looking for the right words. "People think I didn't know him. I mean, I was five, so people think that I just remember that he was my brother and that's all. But I remember loads more about him. He wasn't just my brother, he was my twin." He shook his head. "I'm not doing a good job of explaining."
"You're doing fine," said James. "I saw how close the two of you were - you did everything together; you were inseparable. Half of the time I could barely tell you apart."
The fifteen-year-old brushed tears away, determined not to cry again. Albus nodded. "Did you have any other questions, Ashton?"
"Yes," said Ashton quietly. "What did the prophecy say?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I thought you might ask that, my boy. I won't tell you now, but only because I want you to hear the full prophecy at once - both halves."
"But you said Selwyn wasn't go to tell," Ashton replied.
"No, but if we go to the Hall of Prophecies, you can take the prophecy and hear it in full," said Dumbledore.
"Why haven't you gone before?" Ashton asked.
"Because prophecies can only be retrieved by those they are made about," explained Albus. Ashton blushed. He knew that, but he had forgotten.
"What if he can't retrieve it? What if it wasn't made for him after all?" enquired James.
"It was. The only other who were eligible were Harry and Neville," said Albus. "It was made about someone 'born to those who thrice defied him' and 'born as the seventh month dies'." He did not need to add that both Harry and Neville were now dead, brutally murdered by Lord Voldemort. The atmosphere was morbid enough without adding that to it.
"When are we going to get it?" asked Ashton.
"When school starts again," said Dumbledore firmly. Ashton was about to protest, but Lily gave him a look that meant he should be quiet. "You'll have enough to handle until then."
"Fine," muttered Ashton, scuffing his feet mutinously. "Can I go now?"
"You may," said Dumbledore, and the black-haired boy left without another word.
"Albus?" asked Lily softly.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Will he... he will be alright won't he? We have to keep him safe - not just from Voldemort, but from others, from people who don't understand him."
"Don't worry, Lily," said Albus kindly, patting her hand reassuringly. "We will keep him safe. I promise."
"All right, what are you teaching me?" asked Harry, crossing his arms over his chest. Tenebris slithered around Harry's neck and hissed softly.
"Come on, can't I give my favourite godson a hug first?" teased Regulus. "Before we get onto the boring lessons?"
"I don't like hugs," Harry grumbled. "And you're technically not my godfather, Lupin is."
"Yeah, well, my biological brother is your biological brother's godfather, and seeing as both of us severely dislike our brothers -"
"That's putting it mildly," Tenebris hissed. Harry felt his blood boil at the thought of Ashton Potter.
"- it would be logical to assume that I am your godfather. Besides, the Dark Lord said I was to act as your godfather, and what has Lupin actually done for you?" asked Regulus.
"Well, he does think I'm dead, so it's a bit hard for him to do anything." Harry shrugged, and Regulus laughed.
"Let's get on with it, then," he said.
"So what are you teaching me?" asked Harry again.
"How to care for snakes properly?" suggested Tenebris. "We need twelve rats for breakfast -"
"Be quiet," Harry reprimanded.
"Well, the Dark Lord found out that I'm much better at creating spells than Rodolphus Lestrange is, so he told me to take over teaching you spell creation," Regulus told him.
Harry grinned. "And here I was thinking you'd be teaching me something I'm rubbish at, like occlumency or something."
"So I take it you haven't got any better at that?"
"Last time I got so frustrated I blasted Mulciber across the room and broke his arm by accident," Harry admitted, feeling himself go slightly red at the memory of how he'd lost control. "I really try, but..."
"It's okay, no biggie," said Regulus, waving a hand as if Occlumency was the least necessary thing in the world. "So! Spell creation. I saw your latest spell at the meeting. Succendo, was it?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Latin for fire, kindle, inflame, that sort of thing. It took forever to find out how to make it work on a person."
"Why not just take the direct approach? What's Latin for 'burn person'?" asked Regulus.
"Adolebit persona," said Harry. "It takes too long to say."
"True, true," said Regulus. "Anyway, we should get to making up a new spell."
"We need a desired effect first," he pointed out.
"Well, yes," said Regulus. "How about a spell that's not a battle spell?"
"Like what? A social one?" asked Harry. Suddenly, he had an idea. "Like a spell that would reveal people's hidden secrets or something?"
"That's a good idea," said Regulus. "So, now we need an incantation."
"Tenebris is beautiful?" Tenebris suggested. Harry rolled his eyes.
He thought about it, listing possible incantations in his head. Tell secret in Latin is dico secretum. He tried casting it, but it did nothing. So not that. Maybe in some other magical language. Gaelic, maybe, but I think it would have already been discovered. He frowned, going over various languages in his head.
It took him about two hours to hit upon the incantation, during which he would normally be frustrated. But Regulus knew him well enough to offer him tips only when he really needed them, and to make little suggestions every now and then to keep him going. Tenebris didn't really help, hissing suggestions that always translated into spells to give him a better breakfast or make his scales shinier. Harry finally decided upon the Galician, contar segredo, and cast it upon Regulus.
"Hey!" protested Regulus. Harry tutted and shook his head sadly. "Really, Regulus," he said. "Some of your secrets..."
"I shouldn't have let you find that spell. I need a defence now," muttered Regulus, going slightly red.
"Occlumency will probably work," said Harry, chortling softly.
"Well, we're done for the day," said Regulus firmly. "Back to battle spells next lesson, I think."
Harry laughed, and both of them left the room.
"So Professor Dumbledore's going to train you!" exclaimed Hermione. "Oh, Ash, you're so lucky! Can you imagine what sort of things you'll be learning? Powerful defence spells, maybe, or -"
"Hermione, slow down," said Ron firmly. "Give him a chance to catch his breath."
Ashton nodded gratefully and Hermione deflated slightly, but she still looked just as excited. Ginny, too, looked intrigued at the thought of training with Albus Dumbledore. "Did he tell you what you'd be doing?"
"All he said was 'training'" Ashton replied, flopping down into an armchair. "Stuff to defeat Voldemort, probably."
"Don't say the name!" hissed Ron, glancing around fearfully as if he expected Voldemort to suddenly appear in the room.
Ashton rolled his eyes. "Can't you just get used to it?"
"No," replied Ron.
"So you are the Chosen One then?" asked Ginny thoughtfully. She didn't sound malicious or anything - it sounded like she was worried for him. Why would she be worried for him?
"I don't know, and I won't until I hear the prophecy," he answered, unable to keep from sounding rueful. "And that won't be until school starts."
"So you get time off school? Wicked," said Ron enviously. Hermione shot him a reproving look.
"Ron! He'll probably go after lessons are over. I don't think Dumbledore would take him out of lessons just because of a prophecy - I mean, this is OWL year, we need to be prepared!"
Ron shook his head slowly. "You think schoolwork is more important than whether or not Ash has to defeat the darkest wizard we've ever known?" he asked incredulously. "Because I think that's slightly more important."
Hermione blushed. "I didn't mean it like that - I mean, he's the headmaster, and -"
"Don't worry, Hermione," said Ashton. "I know what you meant."
"It's all rather scary though, isn't it?" asked Ginny nervously. "With You-Know-Who coming back, and his sons - what did Fred and George say they were called?"
"Blood and Shadow," replied Hermione promptly, to no one's surprise.
"Yeah, that's it. And he's been, you know, practicing magic and stuff. Ash, you saw - you saw what his sons could do, what they're capable of," said Ginny. Ashton nodded. Two days after the raid that left his father and godfather grievously wounded, and he still couldn't get the image out of his head.
And I'm supposed to defeat them? Them and Voldemort? Five wizards couldn't defeat his sons, so how can I? Love can't save me. My brother's dead, and I don't want someone to jump in front of a curse for me. He rubbed his scar. It had recently started prickling, but he hadn't mentioned it to anyone. It was probably nothing.
"Hey."
Ginny and Hermione yelped in surprise as Fred and George apparated into the room. "Can't you just walk through the door?" asked Ginny, clutching her heart and breathing slightly faster than normal.
"Sorry, Gin," said George, not sounding particularly sorry. "But no-can-do. Mum wants you four down in the kitchen, helping with the dishes. She's got them all washed and they're ready to be dried."
"What about you two?" Ron demanded.
"Well -" said Fred, looking sideways at his twin.
"- as we are now of age -" continued George.
"- we thought -"
"- it would be prudent -"
"- if we did our bit with magic -"
"- and left the rest of the dishes for you," they finished simultaneously, smirking at the incredulous faces looking at them.
With that, they apparated away. "Bastards," Ron muttered angrily. "They could have helped us."
"Let's go," said Ginny, with an air of getting the worst over quickly. "Mum will do a nut if we don't go now."
"That's something I want to avoid," Ron agreed, and they left the room.
"Father? Why did you call for us?" Harry asked. He looked up and met Voldemort's eyes - something even the Inner Circle had trouble mustering up enough courage to do. Neville met his eyes as well, having as much courage as his brother - perhaps more so.
"I have a mission for you," he told them. Instantly alert, the boys straightened up and reflexively tensed a little. Often when they had a mission it meant that there was bad news coming, and their father tended to... overreact, sometimes. "The Order is becoming more problematic. So I want you to put down one of their own. Do either of you know Elphias Doge?"
"I've heard of him, but I don't know much about him," replied Neville.
"He is one of Dumbledore's personal friends, in fact. An older man, yes, but not so old he has grown weary. He will still put up a fight. Legilimens!" Neither Harry nor Neville resisted as their father placed the necessary information inside their minds. It was a far more efficient way of doing things than being told exactly what to do.
"Wear your masks," Voldemort instructed as they left. "Some of my lower ranked Death Eaters are returning to the fold."
"Yes, Father," Harry replied. He and Neville left the room after fixing on their silver masks. They hadn't had a mission since they'd fought the Order at Crouch manor, and savoured the chance for real action. Even if it was just a simple murder.
Harry rubbed his prickling scar. It was curiously shaped, like a lightning bolt. He knew where he'd got it - Father had of course explained that to him. It had started flaring up more often now, but he tried to conceal it, as Neville tended to worry over him when it did.
Ashton's prickling scar started to throb as the night went on, and he tried to conceal it without much luck. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny noticed very quickly. Predictably, Ron asked him in a fearful voice what was wrong, and Hermione performed a clever numbing spell that settled the pain.
"There; that's better, isn't it Ash?" she asked, using her wand to make the tea-towel dry the dishes.
"Much better," he said, rubbing it ruefully. "I wish I knew what was going on. I don't know why my scar keeps hurting."
"It's to do with You-Know-Who, isn't it?" asked Ginny. She looked afraid at even saying 'You-Know-Who', which was ridiculous. There wasn't anything to be afraid of, saying Voldemort's name - let alone saying 'You-Know-Who'.
"He's the one who gave it to me," Ashton said bluntly. "So probably."
"Maybe it hurts when he does?" suggested Hermione carefully. Ashton shook his head; he knew that wasn't it.
"No, I don't think so. Right now... I think he's angry, or something," said Ashton, frowning and trying to analyse the pain. "That's why it's hurting."
For a moment, no one said anything. Then Ginny said slowly "So you can - when he's angry - you can tell? Your scar hurts when he's angry?" She was pale. Hermione was, too, and Ron's face strongly resembled custard. Ashton rubbed his scar irritably as the pain died right down.
"Yes," he said. "But whatever it was that made him angry, it's gone now." His forehead was starting to feel cold with the effects of the numbing spell. "Hermione - could you -?"
"Oh! Right, sorry," she said, hastily performing the counter-spell. "Has your scar - I mean, has it hurt like this before?"
"A bit," he muttered, not wanting to tell them how often he had felt it prickling in the past week. They would just worry about him and nothing productive would come of it. None of them could explain it properly. He needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore again - but after their last tense conversation, he resolved to wait a few days before asking him about it.
"Do your parents know?" asked Ron. Ashton shook his head. "Mate, they'll want to. I know mine would go mental if I kept something like this from them. Your parents are a little laid-back -"
"A little?" murmured Ashton, thinking of all the times his father had behaved like an excitable six-year-old.
"- but something like this, they'll want to know about it," Ron finished, as if Ashton hadn't interrupted.
Ashton paused for a moment, considering. Should he tell his parents? But his last conversation with them had been tense, as well. He didn't know how things were between them. Besides, what would I say? Hi, Mum, my scar hurts when Voldemort gets angry, but it's all good now, he's calmed down? That'll go down well.
"No," he said. Ginny opened her mouth to say something but he cut across her. "Not yet. I'm not going to tell anyone else just yet, and I don't want you guys to tell anyone else just yet. It's not a big problem. Curse scars act up from time to time, don't they?" he asked, directing his question at Hermione.
"Well, I don't know, they're really rare," said Hermione, biting her lip thoughtfully. "I think so, but -"
"See? This is probably normal," said Ashton, with a lot more conviction than he felt.
Hermione shook her head. "Ash, with you, nothing is normal. You killed a basilisk in our second year, and you fought Pettigrew in our third, and now you have to - I mean, you're the Chosen One," she finished hurriedly, trying to avoid the touchy topic.
"Don't worry, Hermione," he said. "I won't go mad if you mention it. I've accepted it now. I'm the one who has to defeat Voldemort -" he rolled his eyes as everyone flinched "- and I can deal with that now. Professor Dumbledore explained stuff to me. I'm fine with it now."
"Oh - okay," said Hermione, relaxing. "But you get my point."
"Yeah," he said. Normal. Just once, he'd like to be normal.
I hate prophecies. A prophecy got my brother and my friend killed. I won't let this one kill me.
They arrived outside the home of Elphias Doge and disabled the wards quickly. This was just an in and out mission - they didn't need to hang around, and shouldn't for any longer than necessary. They walked up the path to the door and Harry paused, considering. He turned to his brother.
"Shall we knock?" he asked softly, cold amusement in his voice. Neville smirked behind his mask.
"Of course. We know how to be polite, after all. We're not savages."
"It's near midnight. He might be asleep." Harry lifted the knocker and knocked several times. "Draw your wand!" he whispered.
They drew their wands and waited, but no one came to the door. "Is he asleep?" Neville wondered aloud.
"Possibly," Harry answered, twisting the doorknob and stepping in.
The interior of the home was dark but had an air of extravagance. Doge was old, and his style of decorating reflected that. Neville did a quick check and confirmed an earlier suspicion. There was only one outside door in the house, and it was the one they had come through.
"So who is this Elphias Doge?" Tenebris asked.
"Tell you later, Tenebris. Can you keep quiet for now?" Harry replied. Tenebris sulked for a bit, but relented.
Harry wandlessly locked the door again and headed for the stairs, his footsteps soft and carefully placed. Neville was behind him, having had fewer lessons in stealth and far more in actual combat. "What sort of weapons have we got?" asked Neville softly.
Harry passed him a few knives. "These, and our wands," he replied, readying a blade in his other hand. They crept to the top of the stairs and paused on the landing, trying to identify where Doge would be.
"Try that one," Neville suggested, indicating the closest door. Harry nodded and opened it slowly, so that it didn't creak. No need to alert anyone to their presence just yet. Murders were far more easily carried out in silence. That was one of the first lessons that had been drilled into Harry's head when he changed his loyalty to dark at age six.
Harry slid slowly into the room and Neville followed him. Doge was lying on a bed on the other side, obviously asleep. Suspicious of how easy this was, they checked the wards again, but there was nothing. The wards were still down. It actually was this simple.
He stepped forward, raising his wand. "On three?" he asked, looking sideways at his brother.
Neville's eyes looked determined behind his silver mask, and he raised his wand. "On three."
"One..."
Harry steeled his nerve.
"Two..."
Tenebris hissed from his place in Harry's sleeve.
"Three!"
"Avada Kedavra!" they said together. Twin jets of green light struck the sleeping Doge. He jolted as they hit his chest and his eyes snapped open, already glazed over. Doge was dead. The mission was complete.
In Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Ashton's scar erupted with pain, and he started to scream.
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