That Which Can't Be Seen
A Harry Potter Alternate Universe fic
By: Shadow Chaser
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters associated with the books do not belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own my own original characters. Please ask if you would like to use them.
Chapter 5 - The Dark Lord and the Scar
Over the next couple of weeks before the start of the school term, Harry was quiet for the most part, something unusual his parents thought. They tried asking him, but all he said was that he was fine.
Harry sat in his room, stroking Hedwig's feathers while she napped in her cage, occasionally ruffling her feathers and opening a golden yellow eye to stare at him before closing it and going back to sleep. He wanted to know who was this Dark Lord Ollivander had talked about and in what relation was his scar to this person? He wanted to know why was he famous? Why did those people at the Leaky Cauldron stare at him like he was something to behold, a miracle of sorts?
What happened to him to make him so famous?
But he was afraid of asking his parents, as each time they refused to answer and told him that he would be told when he was older…
"Hedwig…should I ask them now?" he whispered to his owl who opened up one golden eye and hooted softly before closing it and going back to sleep. Sighing, Harry stopped stroking his bird and instead began to tap his wand gently on his desk, the side of his head resting on his forearm as he watched, slightly cross-eyed, at his wand making little red sparks each time it hit the surface of his desk.
He had attempted to cast a few spells he had read in his book The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), but that had resulted in a few things breaking or not even doing anything. Once he had created a small burst of flames that he quickly put out by grabbing water from the bathroom, which was across his room. One of the legs of his four-poster bed still had the burnt marks that he carefully hid with his blankets whenever his mother or father came into the room.
But at the moment he was bored…he had tried reading a few of his textbooks, especially A History of Magic, but it seemed so dull, that it nearly sent him off on a few naps during the days he tried to read it.
The term would be starting in about a week and half…and finally he would be able to meet wizards like him…
A sudden panicking thought caught in his throat and he abruptly stopped his tapping and sat up. He quickly dashed downstairs where he knew his mother would be in the midst of preparing dinner.
"Mum!"
Lily was in the midst of cutting up carrots when she looked up to see Harry burst into the kitchen, out of breath and holding his wand. For a heartbeat, she thought that there had been an attack on her son, Voldemort had returned…but then with her trained eye she noticed that he was completely fine, only a bit worried about something.
"Yes?" she answered, putting the newly chopped carrots into a pot then starting on celery.
"What if I don't know any magic? What if the others laugh at me?" Harry asked, his eyes full of worry.
Lily smiled down at her son…she had faced the same thing when Professor McGonagall told her that she had been accepted to Hogwarts and was a witch. Had it been that long…yes, it had… "Don't worry…there are other Muggle-born kids who haven't even studied magic. Even wizard-born children don't know too much magic as they go to school like you do, learning the basics of both the Muggle and wizard world."
"Oh…okay," Harry looked a bit unconvinced but he nodded in relief.
Lily knew that sanctions against Muggle-borns had been put into place after Voldemort's fall, all because of Fudge and Malfoy's work at the Ministry of Magic. Fudge was always dimwitted, in Lily's opinion, and always followed the stupid discriminatory advice of his Deputy Minister, Lucius Malfoy. It was those sanctions that had prevented her from getting a job within some branches of the Ministry, leaving her to finally get a part-time Muggle job at the BBC.
This also meant that the number of Muggle-born children coming into Hogwarts was going to be limited. Even if Dumbledore let everyone in, she knew that he would have to answer to Fudge. The question was, why didn't Dumbledore take the position of Minister of Magic when he had the chance?
She thought it was probably partially because of the former Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts' death. Minerva McGonagall…Lily loved her transfiguration teacher and was extremely saddened when she died during Voldemort's attacks on Hogwarts itself (which turned out to be failures at the end). She figured that Dumbledore wanted to stay for the safety of the children and for McGonagall's memory.
"Hey mum?"
"Yes Harry?" Lily finished the celery and dumped them into the pot. She was going to make a stew tonight.
"You know when dad told me that I got this scar from a dark wizard when I was young…well, was that dark wizard a Dark Lord? Is that why I'm famous?"
Lily felt the blade of her chef's knife slip and she pulled her hand back in time to prevent it from being chopped. Setting her knife down onto the cutting board, she sighed before wiping her hands clean. Turning on the stove, she set it to medium heating before turning around and facing her son.
"Harry, please come with me," she said, gesturing for him to follow her into the living room. She waved for him to sit down on the couch while she went to a shelf and pulled out a worn book that had seen better days. Books well read were always worn, in her opinion, and she cherished this particular one greatly. It was her personal copy of A History of Magic and each time new information was penned down in every edition, those previous would be updated magically.
"What's that mum?" Harry asked as she sat down next to him, placing the book on her lap. "A History of Magic…Mum, is that like some kind of social studies book for the magical world?"
Lily smiled slightly and nodded, "Yes Harry. This is an old copy of mine that I got when I first started Hogwarts. It contains almost everything anyone who was Muggle-born or don't really know their history too well, about the Wizarding World."
"But, I don't really like history…" Harry looked a bit put off by the thickness of the book.
"Don't worry Harry," she ruffled her son's hair then sighed deeply before meeting Harry's gaze. "Harry…what I am about to tell you, your father does not approve and thinks you should be older before you learn all of this. But, sometimes James can be a bit too stubborn for his own good. I want you to know this, so you can at least enter Hogwarts before you are overwhelmed by questions."
"Questions? Like why I'm famous and that stuff?" Harry asked and she nodded.
"Yes," Lily closed her eyes for a second and hoped to whatever gods existed in this world that she was doing the right thing. She knew that James would eventually find out, after all, she would tell him later on when he returned, but Harry had to know at least something before every child out there bombarded him with questions. Inwardly, she was afraid for her only child…and the doctors had said that she could not bear to have another due to her condition.
To send Harry out into such a vicious world…both in the Wizarding and Muggle sense…
"During the 1970s, when your father and I were at Hogwarts, a great darkness and evil was amassing power…"
It was only about an hour later, but Harry felt as if it was at least a lifetime. He laid on his bed, his hands folded with his chin resting on the back of them, staring at his walls which held pictures of his favorite sports teams and other things.
He knew that his mother held some things back, but the general gist of it was that a Dark Lord had come after his family because his mother and father were very famous and to take them out would be a huge blow to the wizarding community – but Harry sensed that that was only a cover story. His mother and father ran, but the Dark Lord's henchmen trapped them and the Dark Lord himself tried to kill him, but somehow, wasn't able to as his killing spell backfired on him.
That was how he got the scar… He had felt a twinge of pain when his mother mentioned the killing curse and he remembered faintly, something about a green flash of light…but…everything else was all fuzzy.
He was famous in the Wizarding world because he was The-Boy-Who-Lived; the only one to survive the killing curse that the Dark Lord threw at him. When he asked his mother about the Dark Lord's name she told him it was Voldemort, but warned him not to say it around wizards or mention it, as many were still skittish and scared. Harry had found that to be slightly absurd as his grammar school teacher had mentioned the names of great evil Muggles without so much as a flinch – no one really feared the evil Muggles that had plagued the world with wars so why should a wizard be feared? But he would heed his mother's orders.
A picture of United Puddlemere, moving by magic, was over his bed – his dad's favorite team. He didn't really follow Quidditch too much, and wasn't really well versed with the rules, but that was because his mother didn't allow his father to tell him anything about Quidditch. Maybe when he went to Hogwarts, he would be able to ask some of the students what Quidditch was…
Maybe also ask a bit more of what happened during Lord Voldemort's reign. He had saw a copy of his mother's book, A History of Magic, for sale in the bookshop, but his mother said that he only needed the books he needed for school. All other books he could find in Hogwarts' library. As one of the people in the Puddlemere poster suddenly did a flip on his broom, Harry heard his mother call up to him that dinner was ready.
Which also meant his father was home. Getting up, Harry brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt and stretched, feeling a few of his vertebrae pop back into place after lying on his stomach for so long. He left his room and headed downstairs to the dining room.
When he got there, he saw that his father was reading the Muggle paper The Guardian, to which he knew they had a subscription to. His expression was blank and Harry glanced at his mother who was setting out the plates before going back into the kitchen and bringing out a stew. She looked quiet…which meant tensions were high – and that his father wasn't happy… It either meant that he had a bad day at work, or that his mother told him about what had happened an hour ago.
He didn't ask as he took his seat and started to help himself to some of the stew his mother had cooked. Better to be quiet now than to be punished for speaking out…
The silence, broken by the tinkering of utensils, stretched longer and longer, until Harry couldn't take it anymore. "So," he started, noting that both his of his parents jumped slightly, "how was work, dad?"
"Fine," his dad didn't look at him and continued to thumb through the paper while eating.
"Anything interesting?"
"No," his dad replied.
Harry found this odd, as he knew that his dad usually answered him with some funny story about Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley getting into a fight again, or maybe a prank about the Aurors he worked with – but this meant that his father was in a bad mood.
"Did Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy get into a fight again?" he pressed, hoping to break the ice.
"Yes," was the short reply.
Harry waited for his father to elaborate, but when it became apparent that his father wasn't going to tell, he opened his mouth again to speak when his mother touched his shoulder and he turned to see her shaking her head.
"Harry, finish up your dinner and then go to your room, all right?" his mother asked quietly and Harry nodded, quickly finishing up his dinner and gathering his plate and utensils together. He pushed back his chair and took his plate to the kitchen and dumped it into the sink. Rinsing off his hands, he wiped it on a towel before leaving the kitchen.
As he was half way up the stairs to his room, a sudden impulse overtook him and he crept back downstairs to try to hear what his parents were saying. He slid up against the living room wall before the kitchen and tried to listen-
"Harry, you're not in your room," his father suddenly said and Harry blinked before he frowned in disappointment. Trust your father to be an Auror… He sighed and walked back up the stairs dejectedly. He wished he had something to spy on his parents, to actually hear what they were saying…but none of his spells in his books told of such a thing… Was it an advance spell then? He wished he knew of someway to overhear conversations…
Closing the door to his room, Harry went and sat by his desk. Hedwig hooted softly by her cage while preening her feathers and he reached between the bars to stroke her. She stopped her preening and nibbled his fingers affectionately before giving a slight flutter and going back to preening herself.
Only a week and half before term started…
Lily heard the door to Harry's room close and stared at James who had gone back to his paper. She knew that he wasn't really reading it, he almost never read Muggle papers as he barely understood the politics that were in it like she did. Her work as a freelance journalist was published in The Guardian, but that a weekly thing.
James finally folded up the paper and set it next to his plate before he looked up and stared at her across the table. She didn't flinch from his angry gaze; she was too trained as a former Auror to flinch away from anything.
"Why did you do it Lily?" James asked in a simple voice.
"Because he has the right to know. He's going to school-"
"Lily, he's only eleven for crying out loud!" James suddenly slammed a hand down on the table, making the plates and utensils jump slightly.
"He's old enough to know!" Lily shouted back, her hands gripping her napkin tightly.
"No he isn't!" James growled and Lily narrowed her eyes.
"Then when is he?" she asked, seething. James was such a pigheaded man at times!
"When's he's old enough," James replied.
"Bull," Lily swore, something she rarely did, "that's circular reasoning James, and you know it as well as I do! Harry needs to know at least something of what happened to him that night! And for him to do so without having so many children bombard him with questions!"
"He shouldn't-"
"James, listen! He's entering into the Wizarding world, our world, in a week and half. How the hell do you think he'll feel if he finds out from his friends and other children that he got his scar and that he's famous because of Voldemort's atrocities against him?"
"You-"
"Shut up and listen for once James! God you're too stubborn for your own good," Lily cut him off viciously, half rising out of her seat, "He'll be feeling betrayed, that's why! How the hell do you think you felt when you found out about your lineage?! Your parents didn't tell you, so, how did you feel?"
"I was glad that they didn't tell," James's eyes darkened with anger as he also half rose out of his seat. "I was glad that I didn't find out until the very end. It saved me a lot of trouble."
"Ha! Yeah right," Lily shot back, "James, you were distraught. I was there, remember?! Don't deny it—you try to put up so much courage, which is why you were so let down! Harry needs to know at least some things about what happened before he feels the same too."
"Harry needs to be protected!"
"From what?! Voldemort?!"
"Yes!"
"James, Voldemort is dead! His followers are scattered! There is no way-"
"No body, no evidence. I don't believe he's dead," James replied, crossing his arms across his chest.
"And that's why you've been pulling so much time in the offices? Running some fool's errand?"
"That's low," James looked shocked.
"Just think about it," Lily stood up and grabbed her plate and fork and walked into the kitchen. She dumped her leftovers into the garbage and placed the plate in the sink none-to-gently before stalking upstairs. Moments later, the door to their bedroom slammed shut, leaving James alone in the quiet house.
Harry awoke the next morning to some shuffling noise and he bolted upright on his bed as he realized that his spell had activated. Last night, after he was sure he heard his father go to sleep, he had crept out of his room and casted a spell that would make their floorboards creak if anyone stepped on it.
He knew that his father always woke up before anyone else and it had to be him. Scrambling out of bed, Harry hit his shin on his chair and stifled a ouch of pain before he opened the door slightly and stuck his head out.
"Dad?" he asked and his father turned around, surprised before a half smile appeared on his face.
"So you're the one who casted the spell," his dad waved his wand at the stairs. "Finite Incantatem."
"Dad…um…did mum tell you?" Harry watched as a mix of emotions went through his father's face.
James sighed and climbed up the stairs and Harry opened his door further to let him in. He scrambled back onto his bed and pulled the covers over his legs as his dad sat on his desk's chair.
"Harry, how much do you know?" James asked in a sincere voice.
"Mum told me that a Dark Lord named Voldemort tried to kill us when I was only about a year old. She said that we were targeted because you and mum were famous and so to do so would give the Wizarding world a great blow if you and mum died. She also told me that Uncles Sirius, Remus, and Peter were set up to act like decoys to ward off the Dark Lord's people from finding out where we were. She told me that when we were caught, Voldemort tried to kill me, but somehow, I bounced his killing curse back at him and got this," he lifted up his unruly bangs and showed his father his lightning bolt scar.
James nodded, "No one knew…even your mother and I don't know how something like that happened."
Harry nodded before a question occurred to him. "Dad…did you and mum have a fight?"
James sighed, "Yeah. But your mum and I made up last night. Don't worry, Harry…I'm not angry at you or your mum. I was just worried, that's all…okay?"
"Okay," Harry was glad. He didn't like seeing his father angry – it was scary.
His father reached over and ruffled his hair and Harry tried to bat his hands away, but it was unsuccessful. "Awww…dad, stop it."
"Ha," his father grinned at him, "now, get back to sleep. You're up way too early."
"Hey dad…can I go to work with you?" Harry laid down on his bed and pulled his covers back up over him.
"Not now…maybe later today though. Dad's got a lot of work to do in the morning okay?"
"Wicked!" Harry grinned as his dad ruffled his hair once more before stepping out of his room, closing his door quietly. Harry smiled before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Outside of Harry's room, James saw Lily standing by their door, her arms folded across her dark jade green robe. Her hair was loose and wild and James smiled at her. Their tiff from last night was all but a forgotten memory as both apologized to each other before curling up against one another, falling asleep.
"When should I stop by?" Lily asked, brushing a lock of her long wavy red hair out of her eyes.
"I should have a majority of the Aurors out on missions by noon, so if you want to stop by in the afternoon, you're welcomed to. Moody isn't going to be sending me out today. It's not going to be rough today, unless some Muggle trips over something," James walked over and leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips before he straightened up.
"James, a Muggle always trips over some magical thing everyday. All right?" Lily replied with a mischievous look.
James shrugged, "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll see you later, all right?"
"Bye, love," Lily waved as James headed down the stairs and out the door. There was a loud popping sound as she heard her husband Apparate to Auror headquarters.
Author's Notes:
First off, let me apologize for not updating this fic for so long. I finished watching Prisoner of Azkaban just this past weekend and it was great. So now my muses are semi-inspired to write in this fic. But I won't be able to post any chapters soon because I'm going on a week and half long vacation to Chicago-Indy-St. Louis. I'll be back in my own home June 22. Thank you for those of you still reading this fic!
