Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains potentially disturbing imagery. Please read at your own discretion.
Other Notes: Will feature Universe Alterations (such as POC characters, SAGA/LGBT characters, Houseswaps, Original Characters, etc)
:parseltongue: 'mental conversation/thoughts'
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliations, nor am I JKRowling. I am a poor ass college student who writes fanfiction. Yes, The beginnings of Mercury's Message and the sequel (this will be around a 10 book series) will be heavily based off the books in some areas, and then venture far, far away from them.
Abuse scenes are based off of the A Child Called It series and various episodes of Law and Order: SVU
A Will and a Way
(Or rather, To the Cupboard Under the Stairs)
Hari's eleventh summer had been bittersweet. After his revelation with Cristiano's only means of communication, Ms. Figg had gone straight to the lead Healer and requested a MindMender. She claimed that her nephew Hari was an accidental Legilimens, and that he had stumbled into Cristiano's mind. It wasn't exactly a common practice, but it wasn't impossible either. The only problem was that Legilimens MindMenders were hard to come by in English wizarding community after their war, and none were too keen on portkeying out to the United Kingdom.
Cristiano's healing was put on hold until they could find someone qualified for his particular situation with enough time to dedicate to the patient. It would be a long wait, but Hari and Ms. Figg had hope.
Even with Cristiano's new means of communication, he was still wary of talking too long with Hari. He swapped between short, choppy sentences that gave Hari the impression he was hyper-paranoid, and forgetting who Hari was (aside from the fact he was most definitely a Potter), and screaming for the near entirety of Hari and Ms. Figg's visits.
The latter times were becoming less and less as Ms. Figg took Hari along to visit Cristiano more frequently, for as long as the Mediwitches would allow them to stay. Hari made an attempt to seep some of his magic into Cristiano's mind, beginning to fill in the cracks of what use to hold it together. He hadn't felt that he made much progress in the few weeks he had been able to access Cristiano's mind, it was becoming more obvious in the way he began conversing, and reached out to take hold of his mother's hand each time she entered.
Hari held out hopes that soon he could make Cristiano's constant shiverings cease, and perhaps then he could write.
Currently he was laying in his bed, waiting for Ms. Figg to reappear from the fireplace, conversing exactly how to go about mending a mind with Tom.
'There shouldn't be in pieces "missing", as you say, merely buried in the subconscious. You won't be able to dig them out with your level of Legilimency yet, at least not without driving yourself completely insane, or forcing Mr. Figgueroa into an emptier shell than what he was.'
Well, that was…..most of his options off the table, really. Hari didn't necessarily like forcing his way into other's heads, especially when it was easy, but he knew the boon outweighed the moral consequences.
However, if he couldn't simply force the pieces back into place, how was he supposed to heal Cristiano?
A mental tongue flicked against the inside of his brow. 'If you continue as you are, little by little, some will eventually return on their own. Some are better remaining gone.'
Hari huffed and buried his face into the soft mismatched pillows that littered his bed. Ms. Figg had early on discovered Hari's affection for fluffy pillows and soft blankets, and had begun swarming him with them, much to his own embarrassment.
'Either way, you shouldn't be focusing on such matters. Today is a special day, is it not?' Tom's voice turned proud, soft scales expanding out to 'hug' Hari.
He was right—today Hari was eleven, and more excited than he had ever been. Tom had been telling him tales of Hogwarts, and how Hari was sure to receive his letter at midnight. Surprisingly, Tom had even regaled Hari with stories of his own Hogwarts letter and his time there (mostly about idiotic students and incompetent teachers, and how he didn't expect Dumbledore to be any better judge of character than Tom's own Headmaster, Armando Dippet).
'Dumbledore was the reason I was allowed to come to power, you know.'
It still disturbed Hari to think of his Tom being one with the Dark Lord Voldemort, and had said so on an occasion. All that had earned him was a lecture on how disassociating the two would cause Hari more harm than anything. That it was important Hari remember that Tom was Voldemort, but no longer is, instead of imagining the two as different entities.
'Um, how?'
'I released a juvenile Basilisk into the plumbing system.' He said matter-of-factly, as if that was supposed to make any sense to Hari.
'A….a what?'
'A Basilisk. They're magical creatures that resemble snakes. They're able to understand parseltongue, so it was fairly easy to control it.'
And again, Hari had more questions than answers. He wasn't incompetent, he figured if a Basilisk was a great snake and Tom could speak to it like Hari spoke to him and to the garden snakes, then Parseltongue must be the language they spoke.
'Dumbledore had been suspicious of me from the minute we met, and I'm fairly sure he knew I was breeding Basilisks. He never went to the headmaster, however, and a classmate of mine died as a result. I believe she's still there.' His tongue flicked out absently, as if the thought had just occurred to him. but at least he sounded ashamed.
'And he never….did anything?'
'I suppose he tried, but in the end I managed to pin the blame on another classmate of mine. It was fairly easy, since he was half-giant with a history of smuggling in dangerous creatures. It….I hadn't released her on purpose, and I wish it hadn't ended up being Rubeus who took the blame.'
'A half-giant?' In passing, Tom had mentioned magical beings Hari could only recognize form the footnotes in Ms. Figg's textbooks. Despite them being more-or-less human, Hari had been under the impression that they couldn't…..well…..have children with others outside their race.
'Rubeus Hagrid. We were something akin to…..friends in my time. Views upon magical non-humans and half-humans were barbaric at best.'
'Barbaric?'
Hari could feel the swell of magic against the forefront of his mind, the telltale sign that Tom was about to show him something, before they were interrupted by the choking poofs of the floo. Normally, it wouldn't of worried Hari since he was expecting Ms. Figg to arrive much the same way she had left. It wouldn't of worried Hari if he hadn't of heard more than a handful of sputters from the fireplace, and more than one set of feet against Ms. Figg's tile.
"Ouh! I can't wait to meet the little bugger!"
"Nymphadora!"
"Don't call me—"
He recognized Ms. Figg's voice, but the other, higher-pitch mingled with at least three other sets of voices, trying not to shout over the continued floo noises. Panic settled in, his muscles clenching and his hand grasping at the blankets underneath him. There wasn't a window in the room, but Hari knew that if he wanted to he could force his way out.
"Now, now! You'll scare the poor dear!"
That voice reminded him of Ms. Figg, but it sounded heavier and deeper, like the librarian from his school.
"You all finish setting up and I'll go get him."
It was of little comfort to hear Ms. Figg again when there were so many strangers in the house. Would she keep him safe?
Of course she would.
He felt a bit ashamed of himself thinking otherwise, but didn't have long before her footsteps were outside his door and his door was knocked on and creaking open. All the tension melted from his body the minute he spotted her, leaving confusion in his wake. Usually Ms. Figg wore loose shirts and long-flowing skirts and the godforsaken sandals Hari couldn't bring himself to tell Ms. Figg he hated when she asked him about them. Instead, she was wearing a beautiful honey-gold pantsuit and brown flats that had tiny heels. She had done up her makeup like she did when she took Hari out, and had curled her hair and allowed it to fall freely around her shoulders.
"Happy birthday, dearie. I've got a bit of a surprise for you outside, but I'm afraid you're going to have to get dressed first." Her tone was teasing and she smiled at the way Hari suddenly seemed very shy in his pajamas.
"I—I don't know what to wear."
"Don't fret, I'll help you pick something out." She sounded entirely too excited about something for Hari's comfort as she walked over to his dresser drawers and began rifling through the button-ups she had insisted on buying him. She settled on a soft teal shirt with black slacks and waived off his question about shoes. "You won't have to worry about that until tomorrow, darling. Mediwitch Orping said we may be able to bring Cristiano home for a teeny bit, as long as she can come."
Hari plucked right up, just as she suspected, and she gave him one last gentle smile before allowing him his privacy.
'This is the best birthday ever.' Hari thought to himself. He wasn't expecting a reply, but the soft I agree from Tom made it all the more special.
When he finished dressing he slowly creaked his door open, still apprehensive of the voices coming from the kitchen. He rounded the corner and almost blanched at how many people were there.
"Wotcher Hari!"
Ah, so that was Nymphadora. He thought the odd name quite fit with her electric bubblegum hair that seemed to tangle even worse than his own. Wisely, he kept any comment about it to himself.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."
And that was the not-Ms. Figg.
"I'm Amelia Bones, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
She outstretched her hand and Hari was unsure if he was allowed to touch her, or if there was a special protocol he was supposed to follow. Did he have to kiss her hand? He did so just in case, making sure not to grasp to hard to let his own hand or mouth linger where they could be severely unwanted. He thought he had made a mistake when her face dusted pink and she began choking.
"Well! Isn't he a little gentleman! Much more so than our son, I'll say, eh Milly, dear?"
Another woman wrapped her arms around Mrs. Bones' waist, who turned to her and began trying to smother her own laughter in the new woman's shoulder.
"You'll have to forgive my wife, I fear you may have just swept her off her feet! You'll have to forgive me as well, for I may be a teensy-bit jealous." The new woman (the other Mrs. Bones?) seemed to be attempting very hard not to burst into giggles. She was a sight next to her wife—wild, long blonde hair and sparkling green eyes with delicate pale skin contrasted with Ms. Amelia's dark brown hair that was pulled tightly up on her head and tanned skin that shown small scars where Hari could see. Her voice was also softer, and reminded Hari more of Lily while Ms. Amelia mirrored Ms. Figg. He decided he quite like the Mrs. Bones'.
"Oh dear, I haven't even introduced myself! I'm Belladonna, call me Donna please, and this is our son Olivar, and our niece Susan."
She pushed forward two children that seemed to be around Hari's age, a girl with fiery-red hair that reminded Hari of a fox, and a boy that seemed to be a carbon copy of Ms. Donna if she had whacked all her hair off. Hari gently took their hands one at a time, and simply shook them now that he knew it was fine. The redhead—Susan, Hari assumed—pulled an offended face when he had shaken his, however.
"I suppose my aunt is the only lady present?"
When Hari's face turned stricken she immediately lit up like the Yule lights Hari had always loved and began giggling madly, rivaling her aunt.
"You hardly qualify as a lady. The crushed bit of that beetle I found on my shoe, maybe."
"Oh shut up Olivar!"
"Children, stop fighting this instant." Ms. Amelia seemed to of recovered, but despite her no-nonsense tone that had the two bucking up, her face threatened to break out into another grin.
"Well, if you'll excuse my behavior, I'm Amelia Bones, as you know, and you may call me Amelia. This is my apprentice, Nymph—"
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" To Hari's surprise, the bubblegum pink hair the woman had previously been sporting seemed to boil into a deep red that seemed to steam. She leveled a rather impressive glare to a rather unimpressed Ms. Amelia, before her hair bubbled back to electric pink and she seized Hari's hand herself. With the way she started accosting his hand, Hari thought he may be lucky to have one left after she was finished.
"I'm Tonks." She put special emphasis on the name and for a moment Hari was terrified if she had been able to read his mind earlier. "Number-one auror trainee, top of my field, gold star, absolutely at your service at any time!" She began prattling off ranks and terms and stories that Hari didn't even half-understand before she was gently nudged aside by a somewhat exasperated-looking Ms. Figg.
"Well, now that you've met everyone, perhaps we should have lunch? I had hoped to go out, but I'm afraid I don't know what you like best." She seemed a bit upset at the prospect, and Hari hurried to reassure her.
"Don't worry, Ms. Figg, I don't think any place in the whole wide world could beat your cooking."
At the sight of her teary eyes, he was terrified he had said something wrong until a large smile broke out of her face and Ms. Donna's laughter rang throughout the house.
"Yes, well, Let's eat then, hmm?"
It could certainly be said that while Hari was a bit biased towards Ms. Figg's cooking, he most definitely wasn't wrong. She had prepared a large meal fit for an entire army of guests, having a large magical creature Hari felt a bit guilty that he didn't know the name of for the main course, with sides of both muggle and magical origins.
He had also learned that Susan was currently twelve versus Olivar's ten, and that they were both ecstatic to have someone right in the middle. While they were cousins, Hari believed they couldn't of been closer if they had been born siblings. They bickered over absolutely everything, and much to Hari's amusement (and everyone else's chargin), had roped Tonks into over half off their arguments, with at least one starting a sneak food-fight. That one had ended rather abruptly at Ms. Figg's threats of withholding cake, along with one Susan covered in some sort of rice and bean paste, one Olivar doused in sparkling grape cider, and one Hari covered face-first into what had looked and felt like a pie, and Tonks with what could have been a broken nose.
Ms. Figg had then brought out the cake after Ms. Donna had hastily spelled away the mess while Ms. Amelia spelled Tonks' nose clean and healed, all because A—Ms. Figg was nearly in hysterics over her kitchen floor, and B—Tonks had begun to raise her wand to try to clean. It was a tall, white cake decorated with coconut shavings and dried fruits, with a duo of sizzling 1's atop it that changed colour every time they sparked.
It was one of the best things Hari had ever seen (maybe only slightly beat by waking up to Ms. Figg making him breakfast).
They all sang Happy Birthday to him, albeit the newly dubbed trio of terror all chimed in with disasterfully different versions that each had Hari cackling.
And while Hari was more than grateful for the food, and the cake, and especially the company, he couldn't imagine that they had gotten him presents.
Ms.' Donna and Amelia had gotten him the books he would need at Hogwarts, and Ms. Amelia had waived it off when Hari protested and tried to give them back because it's too much! You shouldn't spend so much on me!
"We got a discount either way! A bundle so we could get Olivar's as well, even if it is a tad early."
Susan and Olivar had turned in fistfulls of their pocket money to buy him a small basket full of sweets from a shop called Honeydukes, and Susan shrugged at the But you shouldn't of—that was aimed at her.
"Hey, as long as you admit Hufflepuff is the superior house, we're cool."
Hari nodded despite Olivar's protests that Gryffindor was the best, and Tom's mental Gryffidiot.
Tonks had gotten him a small pouch that he didn't see the point of but was thankful for anyway, until she stuck her entire arm into the pouch and pulled out several objects that Hari was positive were much too large to fit into it. The things she pulled out were met with a highly disapproving Ms. Figg, who was assured that Hari wasn't interested in that pranking nonsense, thankyouverymuch! Which tonks had retaliated with a smart But he has a legacy to live up to!
The room went tense and silent for a moment, with Tonks' hair turning a more pastel pink that matched the flushing of her face when she realized what she had said. Susan was the one to break the silence, thankfully.
"Well, I dunno. The marauders mostly got caught didn't they? I know it's a quick assumption, but I don't think Hari's that much of a Gryffindork—I mean idiot. Well, same thing really."
That had started a "House Pride" war that seemed to even stretch to Ms. Figg, who was adamant that Ravenclaw had the highest hand, and the Mrs.' Bones teasing each other over Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.
It had finally settled down when Hari had thanked everyone a bit loudly, which put Ms. Figg in a burst of embarrassment.
"Oh dear! I almost forgot my gift to you, darling!"
Once again, Hari's stuttered protests were ignored as Ms. Figg rushed through the living room into her bedroom. He didn't think he could imagine a better gift than this—than anything he'd been given by his new friends and everything Ms. Figg had ever done for him.
Ms. Figg's gift was an emotional one.
She returned holding a plain, manilla envelope with a few coloured paper clips peeking out of the side. She sat down on her weathered couch beside Hari and gently placed the folder onto his lap. He gently lifted the edge of the folder to reveal a bunch of papers covered in legalese he couldn't begin to hope to understand.
"Ms. Figg—-um, I don't—"
"They're adoption papers, Hari."
Everyone held their breath. You could of heard a pin drop to the floor. Hari stared at the papers, uncomprehending, his eyes beginning to water.
"I know I can't replace Lily, but, I—I want to be your mother, Hari. I—"
"You already are." His voice was hoarse and he swore he could hear Ms. Amelia shushing a tearful Ms. Donna. Tonks was unabashedly blowing her nose, and subsequently being elbowed by a sniffling Susan.
"You—you've done more for me—You've taken care—You—Ms. Figg—"
Hari could no longer form a coherent sentence. His breaths became drowned out by his sobbs and he desperately flung himself at her, absently noting the soft drips he could feel falling in his hair. He could feel Tom in his head, mimicking a sensation that felt like Ms. Figg's fingers running through his hair.
"W-well then," she sniffled, and brought a hanky to her nose, "I suppose it would be rather improper to keep addressing me as Ms. Figg, now wouldn't it?"
Hari huffed out a quiet, watery laugh and tried to recall the pronunciation he heard now multiple times a week.
"I—I suppo-pose so, Mamãe."
The others clapped for him and he was hugged tightly by each guest, with blessings and well wishes and whispers of congratulations!
The rest of the afternoon was spent a tiny bit tearfully, with a foreign warmness to the house that Hari hoped never left.
The excitement of the day gave Hari a guaranteed easy passage into sleep. However, he was not eased into dreams.
He was inside his mindscape again, only he couldn't sense Tom, so he knew he must be asleep.
'But how can I be here and be asleep? Tom was with me all the other times…..'
Hari rubbed at his eyes, causing the stars in his vision to crackle. He could feel more than see the tips of each one beginning to connect with wisps of what looked like a coloured black hole. He expected to be taken back to the snake-ladies' (lady's?) realm when his outward eye "blinked," but instead he was shot into the middle of what he could only imagine as Hell.
There was the castle he recognized from Tom, yet it seemed to fade in and out of various states of disarray:
The castle would first appear as it had when Tom had introduced it—large, obtrusive, magnificent. Hari watched as the sky turned from a sleepy blue into a hazy grey, large creatures beating against the clouds and screeching just so that Hari's ear were ringing and he had begun to claw at them. Hari knew these creatures from Tom's scoffing about the follies of muggles who believed they could be so easily slain—these were dragons. The sky lit up in oranges, blues, and whites of dragonfire, allowing Hari to see the grounds covered in more bodies than he could begin to count, and he choked on the stench that assaulted him. Smoke filled the air, and Hari gasped at the mockery of a reprieve from the smell of rotting corpses, only to inhale and have his throat burned from the inside out.
The image swayed, and returned to the immaculate picture it had originally been, before a new horror descended upon it.
He do nothing more than watch, solidified in place, as strange plants sprouted from the ground and grew at a rate Hari was vaguely sure not even chloromancy could accomplish. There had to be dozens that Hari hadn't a name for, in colours that reminded him of the dark parts of lakes no one ever swam to, or the frigid snow he had nearly frozen in. They covered the grounds, breaking up terrain and leaving terrible gashes in the earth, ploughing through the stone walls as if they weren't even there, leaving a crumbling castle in their wake. Faceless people began to burst from the large, ornate doors, and Hari couldn't even scream a warning at them before the plants opened up hundreds of dripping mouth on each tendril and struck like a snake in brush. Green-black syrup dripped from between thorny teeth, mingling with the deep red that stained what was left of the grasses beneath, and Hari didn't think he'd ever be able to get the screaming out of his head.
When Hari thought he was going to go mad from not being able to move—not being able to even speak, the image fizzled out and the scenery around him appeared as if the horrors he had just witnessed never existed.
Hari didn't know if the next scene was better or worse than the previous ones. The castle laid in ruins, bodies in school uniforms mingling with bodies in uniforms Hari recognized from St. Mungo's. This time, the bodies were twitching in and out of corporeality like the static on Ms—on Mamãe's telly. Bodies teleported all over the grounds with varying states of gore ripped from their bodies, viscera scattered around them, before disappearing and reappearing in a new place, and an entirely new state. Despite the carnage, everything was completely silent. Everything was cold. Everything was dark.
It started as soft as a breeze on his skin—the whispering. Voices began overlapping each other, trying to speak over one another, each begging Hari for something he couldn't understand. They grew impossibly loud, impossibly incoherent, drowning him, amd before he knew it he was falling through the mud-like layers of his mindscape.
He fell back into the bridge he could scarcely remember. The silks from her swarming around him and holding him close, trying to comfort him through the shrieking in his head. He could feel them mingling together, an overbearing presence in his mind that made him feel as if he were about to implode. Just when Hari thought he couldn't take anymore, his throat raw from begging, they mingled into one and spoke with the voice of the yellow snake—
"When hope turns to dust
And blood turns to rust
A child goes to war
When the blind can see
And so walks the lame
A child goes to war again
When fire fills the sky
And the Gods collide
A child goes to war."
Hari opened his mouth to question, but was violently ripped from his mindscape by the sound of his Mamãe's screaming.
"No, I will not let you take him!"
Ms. Figg seemed quite insistent on letting someone named Dumbledore know that she wouldn't be letting him take Hari away.
"They would've let him die, Albus! How can you say he's better off there!?"
The answering voice was too soft for Hari to understand, and he felt a tiny bit of shame seep through him as he opened the door completely silent and creeped down his hallway. The minute he saw his Mamãe though, he almost wished he hadn't.
Her hair fell in ratty tangles in a mockery of last night's curls, she was slumped over in her favourite green armchair, and she was crying. Hari didn't like it when she cried. He completely ignored the old man sitting across from her (ironically, in the seat Hari had sat himself hours a day earlier), barreling himself into his Mamãe's chest and whispering quiet it's alrights into her tear-soaked blouse.
"Ah, Hari, my boy. I admit, I was hoping this wouldn't be the way we first met."
Hari turned on Ms. Figg's lap and spared the old man a glance.
He was an odd-looking fellow, Hari thought. He had a rather impressive beard and mop of hair, both which were silver white and trailed past his navel. He was wearing a suit, which would have looked as if it belonged on anyone else than this particular man if not for the appalling shade of yellow it sported. Hari fixed him with the nastiest look he could muster, one that mustn't of been too impressive with his sleep-stunted eyes and sniffling nose.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I've come to take you home." He fixed Hari with a gentle smile. Hari simply sniffed back.
"I am home."
Dumbledore's smile grew stiff. "Hari, my boy, to your real home. Your aunt and uncle miss you dreadfully."
"My aunt put me in a hospital with half my arm melted off. Y'know, after she put me in the hospital for nearly forcing me to freeze to death."
Dumbledore dropped all attempts of a smile. Instead, he folded his hands in his lap and looked at Hari very seriously. Hari, in turn, could feel something cold pressing against what felt like the inside of his forehead.
'Look away! He's a Legilimens.'
Tom didn't have to tell him twice before Hari fixed his gaze on the odd periwinkle tie around Dumbledore's neck instead of anywhere on his face. The only indication that perhaps Dumbledore suspected Hari was purposefully avoiding him was a miniscule tightening to his features, before he put on another genial smile.
"Now, Hari, my boy, I'm sure you're exaggerating. We all know you've had some—trouble—in school." Before Hari, or even Ms. Figg, could open their mouths to speak, Dumbledore raised a hand and continued.
"You've put me in a precarious position, my boy, and I'm afraid I have no other alternatives. Either you willingly return to the Dursley house and be allowed entry to Hogwarts, or be forced back with your acceptance letter withheld."
"Oh, Albus, you can't—"
"Now, now, Arabella, there are stakes in place you can't begin to imagine. Hari's relatives provide protection from Voldemort and his followers that even I can't replicate; that even Gringotts can't replicate."
Hari felt his Mamãe go still, her arms wound tightly around him, as if she was afraid if she let go he would slip away. For all Hari knew, he would.
"But Albus—"
Hari knew they had lost from the tone in Ms. Figg's voice. She never sounded like that. He could feel Tom's scales bristling out, scraping against his mental walls as he whipped back and forth in a mockery of pacing.
'I'll kill him. I don't care how—I'll kill him—'
Hari gently tuned out Tom's tirade and stood. He half-expected his Mamãe's arms to reel around him like a vice, but they simply fell away as if they'd never been there.
"If—if I go with you, can I still see Ms. Figg?"
Dumbledore gained a strange, almost satisfaction from Hari's question.
"Yes, yes of course, my boy."
"And—and you'll keep them from hurting me?"
"Have no worries, my boy."
It didn't exactly quell Hari's fears, but he didn't think he'd get much more than that.
"I-I need to—to go pack. My th—"
"No need, my boy!" My boy. Hari decided he quiet hated that phrase. "Your relatives have assured me that they have everything you need."
"Can I at least say goodbye?"
"My dear boy, what do you think this is?"
His smile was inviting but his words felt like tempered steel against Hari's turned and gave Ms. Figg one last hug, inhaling as deep as he could to try to memorize the way she smelled, the way she felt, and tried to forget the way she sounded when having her heart broken all over again. He stepped away and tried to take in the sight of their house—of her house—one last time, but he only caught a glimpse before he felt like a fishhook had slotted itself behind his navel and forced him away.
It was all too soon that he found himself back in front of the glaringly pristine front door of Number Four, Privet Drive. Dumbledore began to hum to himself as he patted down his coat, seemingly absent minded.
"I almost forgot! Here we are—" He handed Hari a crisp envelope with large, curved letters that addressed it to one H. Potter. "Your Hogwarts letter, dear boy."
Hari could only vindictively recall the promises of wonder and excitement from receiving a letter that had been told to him by Tom. This felt more like ashes in his mouth.
"Oh, and Hari? One more thing."
He looked at Dumbledore, who had procured a strange, bulbed wand from gods knew where. "Just a bit of insurance, my boy."
The last thing Hari knew before he was consumed by darkness was the tip of a wand pressed to his mid-forehead, and a whisper of a spell that sounded more like a betrayal.
"Obliviate."
And that's a wrap, folks!
Random Note: 5.5k-ish words, and one somewhat miffed beta.
Oh well! I had fun writing this, and I've already started on Gods and Strangers: Mercy of Venus, but also on a (or two) Destiel fic(s) requested of me.
You can contact me at my tumblr: validatedasshole
The "poem" or prophecy or whatever you wanna deem it is original by yours truly, and thats probably why it sucks so much. eh. whatever
Wubbalubbadubdub 100 years, and good night
