Shattered.
It's funny, Harry thought as he paced back and forth, waiting for the potion to finish its work, what a combination of boredom and a fear of sleep can do. If it hadn't been for me fearing for my life if I woke my uncle up again with my nightmares, and me going out of my mind with worry over what Voldemort is up to, would I have gone to Diagon Alley this summer? Would I have spent my days studying to get my mind off things?
Shaking his head, knowing full well that spending your time pondering about 'what if' got you nowhere, Harry glanced over at the book, sighing gustily when he saw that it was still glowing faintly blue, a clear indication that the process wasn't finished yet.
Resuming his pacing, Harry thought back to the start of the summer holidays. He had been sullen and moody, more so than normal when being forced to return to the Dursleys. But really, the adults in his life, who was regarded by so many as being the best and brightest in Britain if the press was to be believed, had acted like real jerks if you asked Harry.
Yes, he knew that he had to return to his family. Yes, he knew that he couldn't spend the summer with Sirius the way he wanted to. But to just be dumped at the Muggles with a cheery, 'see you later, mate,' that hurt.
To know that Sirius would rather rush off and do some work for Dumbledore than spending time with Harry to help him get over the trauma of witnessing Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth hurt even worse. And he didn't even have the comfort of his friends' letters since they only consisted of some strange shorthand code that only wetted Harry's curiosity and did nothing to give him the information he needed. He couldn't even find escape through their summer activities since they didn't mention anything about what they were doing since they bloody well didn't tell him anything.
And that was the reason as to why he was now pacing around his very own private Potions lab, waiting for the potion he had just brewed to finish working so he could find out if he had managed to do it correct this time.
Thinking back, Harry couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't given in to his despair and gone off to Diagon Alley, despite having been told repeatedly to stick close to Privet Drive since no one knew what the Dark Lord was up to.
But fear for his life, not to mention his sanity, had caused Harry to throw the warnings to the winds and headed off anyway. Besides, since no one seemed inclined to help him, then Harry just had to help himself, right?
Sighing gustily, Harry shook his head, wondering just how thick Dumbledore and the others were. And what about Pomfrey, she was a nurse, wasn't she? She at least should know all about trauma, even mental ones, right? Had no one realised just how badly off he had been? Hadn't anyone realised just how much the last year had affected him?
Apparently not, since no one had approached him once he had been released from the hospital wing.
Harry snorted and ran a hand through his hair. The more he learned, the more he began to… distrust the wizarding world. At least those in charge. Didn't any of them have any damned sense? Or did they think that everything just ran off him like water off a goose just because he was the Boy Who Lived? Didn't he deserve some care and consideration? Or was the disinterest in his welfare a side product of him being an orphan? Did Dumbledore and the others really think that the Dursleys cared about him and would help him with any emotional scars he received while at school?
Harry huffed a laugh at the mere thought. The Dursleys would never do anything for him that would actually benefit him. Rather the opposite. Just take this summer. More than once, Harry had woken up by his own terrified screams. Had his 'loving' family done anything to help him? Of course not. Uncle Vernon had gone into a rage, coming storming into Harry's room and threatening him with bodily harm if he didn't cease to cause such a ruckus.
From the look in the man's eyes, Harry had instinctively known that the next time he woke his uncle up, Vernon would either beat him to a bloody pulp – or worse – or throw him right out of the house.
Now, leaving the Dursleys permanently had been a long cherished dream of Harry's, but he also had a feeling that Dumbledore wouldn't allow it, and would find a way to interfere somehow, making the already explosive situation worse. So Harry had made his way into Diagon Alley, intent on finding a way to keep his uncle off his back.
And a solution had been found. Not a perfect one, but a solution all the same.
Harry had bought himself a trunk.
A very nice, large trunk.
A trunk that contained a bedroom, a kitchen, a library, a Potions lab of all things, and three empty room Harry hadn't decided what to do with yet. The best thing with the trunk was that it was charmed so that no sound could be heard on the outside when he was inside and the lid was closed. The second best thing was that a notice-me-not charm designed for Muggles had been put on the outside, ensuring that Vernon Dursley could not take this trunk away too and lock it up somewhere.
Harry had been most pleased with those features and once his business with the trunk maker was done, the teen had headed off to Flourish and Blotts. A quick check with the Goblins had made Harry aware that he had access to far more money than he thought, allowing him to splurge nicely during his shopping spree.
Entering the bookshop, Harry had made a beeline for the section with Defence texts, and he had spent the next hour browsing the shelves carefully, selecting the books that seemed the most useful. Harry was determined that if he ever came face to face with Voldemort and his people again, then he would at least know how to defend himself, not wanting to leave it up to dumb luck, even if that had been what had saved him the last few times.
Next, Harry went in search of books on Healing, figuring that knowing how to prevent oneself from bleeding to death, or how to set and/or numb broken bones might very well save his life as well one day, or the life of one of his friends.
From there, Harry had reluctantly headed for the Potions section. He still held no great love for that subject, mostly due to Snape and his blatantly unfair treatment, but Harry knew himself. Learning new Defence spells were good and dandy, but not being able to practise them, it would soon drive Harry up the wall. And since he didn't dare ask the trunk maker for a charm so that he could practice magic down in his new trunk, Harry was stuck with Potions as the only brand of magic, next to Herbology, that he could safely perform during the summer. Sighing forlornly, Harry carefully went through the Potions books on offer, picking out the ones that looked promising.
As a treat to himself, Harry then spent some happy times browsing Charms and Transfigurations, picking out books that were both useful and those geared more towards pranks. Perhaps if he knew more, he would be able to avoid falling victim to the twins and their pranks.
By the time Harry finally left the shop he had spent a small fortune, not feeling any regrets. But the crates did weigh him down quite a bit, so Harry made it back to the trunk shop and bought a bottomless bag, sweet talking the clerk into adding a Muggle repellent charm on that one too.
His last stop before heading home had been the Apothecary where Harry bought a Potion kit for the years one to five, ignoring the astonished look from the clerk. Having seen some of the recipes in the books he'd ended up buying, Harry was now determined to learn to understand Potions, or die trying.
It would seem that Snape had been correct when he made that speech in first year, and Harry was resolute to learn, if not how to put a stopper to death, at least how to brew headache cures, bruise salves, and other useful things that might come in handy when you had a madman after you who seemed determined to get your head, no matter what the cost.
It had been a pleased with himself Harry Potter who returned to Privet Drive that afternoon, and the teenager couldn't wait to get started on his new books.
And that is why Harry was now pacing back and forth in his very own Potions lab, waiting for the potions to stop glowing so that he could check and see if he had managed to brew the blasted thing correctly this time.
oOo
"Finally!" Harry muttered as the glow around the leather bound journal at last died down. "About time too if you ask me. The book said it would take about half an hour, but the glow lasted closer to an hour. What does that mean? Does it mean that I failed? Or did I somehow manage to brew a stronger potion then intended?"
Harry stared at the journal for several long minutes before sighing ruefully. "I guess the only way to find out is to actually check the thing. Right? Right!" he added with more enthusiasm than he was actually feeling and made his way over to the silver dish where the journal was waiting for him.
Picking the book up gingerly, Harry noted that it was completely dry, which should be an impossibility considering the large amount of liquid he had poured over it. Unpleasant thoughts of Tom Riddle's diary flashed before Harry's mind, but the teen pushed them determinedly away. This was nothing like that, and there should be no conscience or memory trapped inside this journal.
Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the book and whooped with joy as he saw the crest depicted on the first page. At least he had gotten things correct thus far. Unlike his first four attempts, which had resulted in one journal burnt to cinders, one soggy mess where the potion had never been absorbed into the book at all, one journal where only half the text had been readable and the other half had been nothing but squiggles, and one journal that had been completely blank.
Turning the page with reverent care, Harry's eyes opened wide with pleasure as he saw his name written in a fancy script in the middle of the page. Above his name was written in smaller letters the names of his mother and father, and Harry reached out with a trembling hand, tracing the letters forming the words James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans.
Next, Harry's eyes lingered over the dates of his parents births, 27-03-1960 and 30-01-1960, finding it amusing somehow to learn that his mother had been the older of the two, if only by two months.
Not bothering to go further back at the moment, Harry didn't seek out the names of his grandparents, even though he didn't have a clue as to their names, and went back to look at his own name and the date of his birth, 31-07-1980.
Hang on a moment! Harry suddenly thought as he realised what was bothering him about his parents' birth dates. Shouldn't there be a date for their deaths? Unconsciously squinting his eyes, Harry tried to recall the only class trip he had been allowed to go on while in Muggle school. The teacher had taken the class on a trip to a famous church, telling them about various historical events that had taken place, and also showing them the crypt and a few of the bodies that had been buried there. Each of the nameplates had held the name of the person buried there, the date of their birth, and the date of their death.
What does this mean? Harry wondered, looking down at the names of his parents. Does this mean that they are alive somewhere? But... if they are, then why haven't they come for me? Why did they leave me here with the Dursleys? Don't they... Don't they love me? Harry wondered, fighting to hold back the tears that was suddenly filling his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks.
No! he thought, shaking his head almost violently. My parents love me! Everyone's told me that! They love me and they would never abandon me to the Muggles! They just wouldn't! Harry snarled to himself, wiping away the tears with his sleeve, his movements jerky due to his anger.
"I just made a mistake that is all. I'm no genius when it comes to Potions, everyone knows that. I'll just have to redo the potion, that's all!" Harry whispered to the air, trying with all his might to believe his own words. But for some reason his own words sounded hollow and they lacked conviction.
Snarling angrily at himself for daring to doubt his parents' love for him, Harry was about to snap the linage book close and throw it into the wall when a second realisation caused him to freeze. He went so still in his shock that he was unable to even pull air into his lungs.
Below the name of Harry James Potter were other names, all connected to him and to his parents with thin, damning lines.
Marigold Jeanette Potter, 03-03-1982
Primrose Louisa Potter, 04-08-1984
Heather Paulina Potter, 14-02-1987
Jasmine Maria Potter, 28-02-1989
Paul Orion Potter, 15-09-1991
Wolfgang Remus Potter, 01-01-1994
Crashing down onto the floor, his legs unable to support him, Harry stared at the names in horror as realisation slowly sank in. James and Lily Potter were not dead. His parents were still alive. They had abandoned him, left him at the mercy of the Dursleys. They had left him behind and gotten on with their lives, even going as far as to creating a new family. From the large number of siblings Harry hadn't known he had, he would say that neither of his parents was missing him much. Probably too busy taking care of their children, Harry thought with a sneer.
But what about me? Am I not their child too? How could they do this to me? Why did they leave me? Why? In Merlin's name, why?! Unable to hold in the despair he was feeling, Harry threw his head back and screamed, not caring whether his uncle heard him or not.
Once the first scream was allowed to escape the confine of his throat, Harry found that he couldn't stop. All the emotions he had been keeping bottled up deep inside him seemed to be welling up through him, and there wasn't a damned thing Harry could do to stop them. Not that he particularly felt like stopping.
Vaguely, the devastated teen felt a searing pain go through him, seemingly centred on his back, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered at the moment, nothing at all. He had been betrayed. Betrayed by everyone he held dear, and Harry didn't think he would ever forgive them.
Ever.
Another burst of searing pain went through him, and then Harry knew no more.
oOo
"Rare is it that someone so young is made into one of us."
"True, but I for my part am more surprised to discover that the Boy Who Lived was so severely betrayed that magic had no other option than to make him kin. I wonder what happened to him? Whatever it was, it had to be bad."
"Look around you! A fool can see that the Muggles abused him, and we all know how the wizarding world has been treating him. How could he not become one of us?!"
Harry floated in nothingness, and he was quite happy to be there, actually. Here, there was no pain. No one was making demands of him that he couldn't or wouldn't fulfil. Here, no one expected him to be their hero, their rescuer, their saviour.
Unfortunately, his peaceful sanctuary was invaded by three voices that seemed set on arguing with each other. Right in Harry's ear.
Annoyed at having his peace disturbed so rudely, Harry opened an eye slightly and managed a weak scowl. "I have no idea who the hell you lot are, but could you take your pointless arguing and get the hell away from me?!" he snarled, albeit the sound of his voice was weaker and more pathetic sounding than he liked. Not at all the impressive snap he had been aiming for.
"Oh, he is awake," the female voice squealed, causing Harry's scowl to deepen. Couldn't these people take a hint? He didn't want them here!
"It never ceases to amaze me how you never fail to state the obvious," a snarky voice said, reminding Harry quiet a lot of Snape. Harry frowned in displeasure. First, these morons disturb the best rest Harry has had in ages, and now they make him think of his least favourite Professor!? Who the hell were these people and who had invited them to crash Harry's party?
Wait! How did these idiots find me? I thought I was safe with the Dursleys just because no one could find me. Another lie from Dumbledore? Harry wondered to himself. Realising that he was not going to get any answers unless he actually faced the invaders, Harry sighed deeply and forced his eyes open. Gathering his strength, he rolled over onto his side and from there it was easy to get into a sitting position.
Stretching his body, Harry couldn't help but wonder what had happened to leave him feeling as weak as a newborn kitten. His muscles all felt as steady as wet noodles, and it was disquieting to realise that if it came to a fight, Harry would be helpless to defend himself. Not that Harry was about to inform the idiots of that. For all Harry knew, they could be a new brand of Death Eaters sent to torture him – by inane, endless prattle.
"Awake finally, are you? Good! I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep the entire day away. I do have other things to do than watch you recover," Snarky Voice snapped.
Harry snorted and turned his head towards the speaker. "I didn't invite you to come here, so if you are wasting your time, then you have no one to blame but yourself!" he snarled, glowering darkly at the speaker, not about to be intimidated by this moron. Who, for the record, had invaded Harry's private space without as much as a by your leave. How dare he act like Snape and accuse him of things he hadn't done?!
"Silence! We did not come here to argue, and unless you can keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Galen, then you can leave. This does not concern you, and I have no idea why Ariana allowed you to come along."
"On your head be it!" Galen snarled furiously as he spread an impressive set of wings, and disappeared.
Harry blinked, that had been... unexpected.
"Oh, don't be so hard on him, Apollo, he's had a hard and difficult life."
"And we haven't?!" Apollo asked, staring at his companion incredulous.
The female lowered her eyes and refrained from replying.
"Just who are you people?" Harry asked, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Something big was happening, something big and important, and as usual, he was caught smack in the middle of it.
The two strangers turned to look at him and Harry couldn't help but squirm slightly under their gaze. Then Apollo smiled apologetically and moved forward, holding out his hand. "My apologies, young one, we have been inexcusably rude, haven't we? My only defence is that we did not expect you to wake up quite so soon. I am Apollo, and my companion is Ariana. As for what we are doing here..." Apollo trailed off and seemed to be taking a fortifying breath.
"We are of a race called the Avengers. Have you heard of it?"
Harry frowned as the name made a faint bell ring at the back of his mind. The name was sort of familiar. "Umm, yeah, I think so," he replied slowly as he tried to dredge up the elusive memory. "Oh yeah! I wanted to see if the wizarding world knew anything about angels, so I looked them up," Harry said, growing excited as the memory finally allowed itself to be found and brought out of hiding.
"The book mentioned three types of angels, Angels, Fallen Angels, and False Angels." Harry frowned again as he struggled to recall the small bits of information he had managed to gleam from the book. "It had quite a lot to say about the first two, but as for the third... All I can remember is something about the wings of a False Angel were black like those of a Fallen Angel, but unlike the Fallen Angels, the False Angels' feathers were edged with silver.
"Hmm... It never did say why the False Angels were called False. The footnote said something about Avengers, but all it would say was to stay away from them. What exactly is a False Angel? And what is an Avenger?" Harry asked, glancing up at Apollo who seemed to give off an aura of comfort and trustworthiness.
"I'm surprised you knew as much as that. Not much is known about us, and we prefer to keep it that way," Apollo said, sitting down on the edge of Harry's bed. A bed that had not been there before, and was distinctly out of place in a Potions lab, Harry belatedly realised.
"You see, child, an Avenger is not a natural species, but one created by Magic," Apollo said, effectively grabbing Harry's attention.
"Huh?" Harry said intelligently, his brain refusing to decipher the cryptic statement. "I thought all magical creatures were created by Magic."
Apollo chuckled, but it was a kind laugh with no hints of cruelty to it. "My apologies again, that was a somewhat muddled statement, wasn't it? What I was attempting to explain was that most magical creatures are born. They have parents that carry the blood and thus they are born into their inheritance.
"But Avengers are different. They are born through betrayal. And I am not talking about casual betrayal, but a betrayal so deep that it affects a person's body, mind, magic, and soul. The Avenger might be awakened from one single betrayal, although that is extremely rare. Usually an Avenger is created from several betrayals, taking place over an extended period of time, until they are faced with a betrayal they simply cannot recover from.
"That is what happened to you, is it not, young one?" Apollo asked, looking intently into Harry's green eyes, his own midnight blue ones filled with a mix of compassion, sympathy, and empathy.
There was no hint of pity, something Harry was extremely glad for since he didn't think he could handle pity at the moment. Glancing away, Harry's gaze fell on the cursed book that started the whole thing, and he began to shake in renewed anger.
"Hush, baby, calm down, you are no longer alone," Apollo whispered, carefully taking Harry into his arms, not surprised when the building fury turned into tears.
oOo
"Why are you here?" Harry asked, toying with a lock of Apollo's silver coloured hair, feeling surprisingly safe in the stranger's arms.
"Because we felt the birth of one of our own, and I happened to be closest to your location," Apollo replied calmly. "The same goes for Ariana and Galen."
Harry frowned, but he was just too tired to think. "I don't understand."
"You will find, young one, that by becoming an Avenger you were reborn. Your magic is different from what it was before. It is more alive now, easier for you to access, but also harder for you to control.
"You have also been changed in mind and body, which is not surprising since you now have a pair of beautiful wings," Apollo added with a chuckle.
"I have wings?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief, this was news to him.
"Yes, you do, but you can inspect them later," Apollo replied calmly, refusing to relinquish his hold on Harry so that the teen could twist around and have a look.
Harry considered protesting, but he was too tired so he turned his attention to one of the other things the older Avenger had told him. "Why do you say that my mind has changed? What does that mean?"
"It is difficult to explain," Apollo said slowly, searching for the words to explain the unexplainable. "You no longer are who you were. Your anchors in this world... they are no longer there. You will need to re-examine every belief you have ever held. How much of the things you valued were formed by your own opinions, and how much of them were formed for you by the people betraying you?
"The same goes for the people in your life. Are your friends truly your friends? Or were they your friends because you were manipulated into thinking that they were your friends? This is something that has happened to each and every one of us. This is the reason as to why we became an Avenger," Apollo said matter-of-factly.
"Why are we called Avengers?" Harry asked softly, not sure he wanted to know the answer, yet feeling that he already knew.
"Because we do not allow the slights performed towards us to go unpunished. We do not forget, we do not forgive, we do, however, get even," Apollo stated grimly, his gaze unfocused as he stared at something only he could see.
Harry thought about what the other Avenger had told him, it all made sense in a way. "But if an Avenger is born through betrayal, then how come there are so few of you? Betrayal happens all the time, doesn't it?" Harry asked with a small frown.
"Yes, it is a sad truth that betrayal happens on a daily bases," Apollo replied with a soft sigh. "It is also true that not everyone who is betrayed becomes an Avenger. Much depends on the method of betrayal, but it depends even more on the betrayed one's personality."
"How so?" Harry asked as his frown deepened.
"Most people who are betrayed become bitter. They stop trusting people and start to expect the worst of everyone. They might take revenge on those who wronged them, but the very act of betrayal left a black mark on their soul, twisting them and making them dark. Not Dark as in the Dark Arts, but dark nonetheless.
"Now, an Avenger keeps their positive outlook on life until the very moment the final betrayal occurs. You still tended to expect people to be good, didn't you, young one? You believed that their hearts were good and true, didn't you?"
Harry considered the question. Apart from the Slytherins he had thought the best of people, and wasn't that why their betrayal had hurt so much? "Yes I did," Harry murmured when it became obvious that the Avenger was waiting for a response.
"And now?" Apollo asked gently.
"Now... I'm not inclined to trust anyone," Harry said with certainty. "Then how come I'm trusting you? Is it because you are an Avenger too?"
"Not really. As I said before, Avengers loses their anchor to this world when they are reborn. To help grounding them, a mentor is selected to help them gain control over their magic and help them find their way around their new life. You must understand, little one, that nothing is what you thought it was, and everything you have been taught needs to be relearned. Your mind, your magic, your entire being is now different, and it will take you some time to regain your sense of equilibrium."
"But how did you know that we would be comfortable together? What if I didn't like you? Would you still have become my mentor? That's what you are, aren't you?" Harry asked hesitantly, needing to know, yet reluctant to offend the only one capable to help him.
"I didn't know whether we would be compatible or not, no. As I said, I just happened to be closest to your position when you were reborn. That is why Ariana came here too, although I'm not sure why Galen tagged along. He is a very bitter man, and no one quite understands how he was born an Avenger since his composition is rather... unique for our species. But I digress...
"If you hadn't connected with one of us, we would have taken you to others of our kind, and we would have kept on searching until your mentor was found."
"Oh... Thank you," Harry whispered, allowing himself to truly relax in Apollo's embrace since his breakdown. "So, what happens now?"
"Now we pack your things, although I doubt there is much you will want to keep when all is said and done, and then I will take you to my home where you will stay until you are ready to stand on your own two feet."
"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. No one had ever offered to look after him like this before, not even the Weasleys.
"There is no need to thank me, little one. An Avenger did the same for me when I was reborn, and mayhap you will do the same for another newborn one of these days. That is the nature of the Avengers, we always look out for our own. Now come on, let's start packing your things," Apollo said enthusiastically, gently urging Harry to stand up.
"Why do you call me that? I do have a name, you know," Harry said, finding it rather refreshing not to being instantly recognised and fawned over.
"Wrong. You had a name, but that was your human name. Your Avenger name will come to you once you have learned who you really are. I think you will find that your new persona will be quite different from the old one."
"I'm not sure whether to be relieved or frightened," Harry muttered, looking around his Potions lab with a lost look on his face. He really had no idea what to do next.
"I would suggest that you go with optimistic," Apollo said cheerfully. "You have been granted a fresh start; do not look upon it with fear, but look upon it with excitement. Many are those who wish for a new start, but all too few are granted the opportunity.
"Say, where are we by the way? Are we inside a trunk? This room doesn't feel like it is attached to a house," Apollo said with a puzzled frown, walking over to one of the walls and placing his hand on it.
"Yes, this is a trunk. My relatives are Muggles and they don't approve of magic. Or of me," Harry muttered under his breath, unaware that Avengers possessed an excellent hearing and totally missing the sharp look Apollo sent him, proving that his mentor had heard his whispered words.
"Then let us get out of this trunk and start packing your things," was all Apollo said, having a feeling that his job would be much more difficult than he'd thought based on how young his new charge was. Then again, for someone so young to become an Avenger, the betrayal had to be a dozy.
Harry nodded his head and scrambled out of the trunk, more than ready to leave the Dursleys. He hadn't wanted to come here in the first place, and there was no way in hell that he was going to abide with Dumbledore's wishes after this.
oOo
"Welcome to my home," Apollo said with a broad smile, slowly letting go of his new charge. "Let us get you settled in your quarters and then we will have some food before we talk, okay?"
Harry nodded as he slowly looked around the spacious patio they had arrived at. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this was most definitely not it. Harry hadn't really gotten a chance to see the house since he was facing the gardens, but those looked to be something out of a fantasy. Cinderella and her prince would feel right at home here, or perhaps he had arrived at the home of Sleeping Beauty?
Harry shook his head, unable to hold back a smile at his silly thoughts. No, the Dursleys had never approved of anything that contained the 'M' word, not even Walt Disney, but Harry had been curious and so he had searched through the Hogwarts library that first Christmas break in hopes that it carried books on wizarding fairytales. It had, and Harry had spent many enjoyable hours in secret reading them all, never telling a soul since he did not want his pleasure ruined by the ribbing both Ron and Hermione was sure to give him if they ever found out.
Ron and Hermione... Harry frowned in displeasure as he was once again reminded that his two best friends probably weren't his friends as all.
"Hey, why the long face, is something wrong?" Apollo asked, effectively bringing Harry back to the present.
"Nah," Harry said, starting to shake his head in denial, only to break off with a thoughtful frown. "Actually..." he murmured, looking down at his feet, unable to meet the other's concerned, midnight blue eyes.
Apollo didn't push for answers, he merely placed a gentle arm around his new ward's shoulders, giving him a small nudge to get him walking. "Come, I know this is all very confusing for you, but it will be better soon, I promise."
"Thank you," Harry whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes and willing them away, not wanting to break down a second time in one day.
Apollo felt the teens churning emotions but didn't comment. He merely walked the two of them into the house, pointing out the rooms as they passed them until he came to the Master Suite.
"These are my rooms, you are welcome to come here whenever you need to. And these will be your rooms for as long as you need them," Apollo said, opening the door opposite his own.
"Wow!" Harry breathed in wonder as he stepped into a dream. The floor was made out wood, so well polished that it shone in the sunlight. The top and bottom part of the walls were painted in a rich royal blue and in between were a wide stripe of pristine white. To enhance the breaks between the colours there were intricate carvings filled with what looked like real gold that was glistening in the sunlight that were pouring in through several large windows, complementing both the colours of the walls and the hardwood floor very nicely.
Against one wall was a large fireplace made in white marble with green veins, and situated before it was two comfortable looking armchairs, made of leather in the same green shade as the veins in the marble. On the opposite wall was a large writing desk made of oak with a black marble top, with a matching chair. There was also a large book case that was mostly empty and several small, delicate looking tables that had the same shine as the floor. Harry didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful room and he said so.
"I'm glad you like it, Harry. I have to say that I'm rather pleased with this set of rooms too. It took me ages to get it just right," Apollo said, a pleased, happy smile lightening up his features as he too looked around the room in obvious pleasure.
"You made this room?" Harry asked, his mouth hanging open wide in astonishment.
Apollo chuckled and gave the nearest shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Child, I created this entire place. I always wanted a home that I knew was mine, and so when I became an Avenger and I had dealt with those who had wronged me, I looked for the perfect spot to build my home and then I spent three decades getting everything just right."
"Wow!" Harry whispered, not sure how to express the awe he was feeling.
"Yeah, wow," Apollo laughed in agreement. "When I bought this parcel of land it was nothing but a wasteland. I got it really cheap, and the seller walked away laughing, thinking he had gotten the better deal," Apollo said smugly. "But I proved him wrong, not that he ever knew it since he was a Muggle and this place is protected against Wizards and Muggles alike. This is my home, and only those I personally invite are able of coming here, or even seeing the property. To everyone else, this is nothing but dry dirt and rocks."
"Could you show me how to do that?" Harry asked timidly, thinking of all the people he didn't want hounding him and who he suspected would not accept a no. At least not from him.
"I will. But first, how about putting your things away? Perhaps a nice hot shower and a change of clothes?" Apollo said as diplomatically as he could. As he had suspected, packing the child's thing had not taken long, and the Avenger was appalled at the state of the few possessions the boy did have. The only things that were worth saving were the teen's school things, everything else were destined to the nearest fireplace if Apollo had anything to say on the matter.
I need to find out just what the hell has happened to this poor sweetheart. I knew that he was neglected, all Avengers were in their previous life, but this... This is outrageous. Couldn't the ones in charge of his care bestir themselves to even get the child decent clothes?!
Harry blushed and ducked his head, all too aware that it had been a week at least since his last shower.
"I shall leave you to settle in. You can borrow some of my clothes until we get a chance to buy you a new wardrobe. That is, if you don't mind?" Apollo belatedly remembered to ask, suddenly recalling what had happened when he made the same offer to his first ward. Giovanni had blown up spectacularly, not taking anything that even hinted of charity very well.
"I'd like that very much. Thank you," Harry murmured bashfully.
"See you in a bit then," Apollo said with a big smile, relieved that Harry wasn't so far gone that he couldn't accept kindness from strangers, unlike Galen.
Harry watched as the Avenger left the room before turning back to survey his surroundings. Walking over to the only other door in the room, Harry was not surprised to find the bedroom. Stepping inside, wide green eyes took in the sumptuous room in wonder.
A thick, cream-colored carpet covered the floor; thick enough that his feet actually sank down as he stepped onto it and for a moment Harry worried about getting it dirty but the thought was soon pushed out of his head as he took in the rest of the wonderful room, hardly able to believe that he was going to be living here from now on.
The bed was a four-poster, and it was much, much larger than the one he slept in at Hogwarts. The bed curtains were also cream coloured, as was the colour on the walls. The bed along with the other pieces of furniture was made of a beautiful red wood, which oddly enough did not cause Harry to think of the Gryffindor Tower. Perhaps it was the lack of gold? Scattered here and there were pillows in various shades of red, going along well with the gleaming wood, giving the room a much needed touch of colour without dominating it.
Sunshine came pouring in through three large windows and when Harry walked over to the closest one he was met with a spectacular view of a incredible rose garden that just had to have fairies and unicorns in it.
All in all, this had to be one of the cosiest bedrooms Harry had ever seen, and unlike the orange horror Ron had made of his bedroom, this was a room the teen knew he could relax in and just be himself.
Feeling curious and eager to see what the bathroom would be like, after all, it was bound to be as wondrous as the parlour and the bedroom, Harry tore himself with some difficulty away from the grand view to examine the last room of the suite.
Opening the door to the bathroom Harry found himself frozen in place, unable to do anything but gape in wonder. The bathroom was made out of black marble with green veins running through the stone. The bathtub rivalled the one in the Prefect's bathroom, and it was made of what looked like pure green marble, although Harry hadn't known such a stone existed. The fixtures were all made of gold, something that did not surprise Harry in the least, and an entire wall of the spacious bathroom was covered in mirrors.
Harry was about to turn away from the mirrors when he made several startling discoveries. One, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and two, he really did have a set of impressive wings. How he had managed to overlook them until now he'd never know, but there they were.
Stepping closer to the mirrors, Harry carefully flexed his new addition, taking note of how the feathers shifted and fluttered as the wings moved.
"I see that you have discovered your wings," Apollo said softly from the doorway, not wanting to startle his charge.
"It was a bit hard to miss," Harry said wryly, his lips twitching slightly in amusement.
"True," Apollo replied, a matching smile playing on his own lips. "So... What do you think?"
"I think... that they will take some time getting used to," Harry replied honestly, back to looking at himself in the mirror.
"Also true. Hmm... I hadn't noticed..." Apollo murmured, coming to stand behind Harry, carefully running one of his hands over the smooth feathers.
"Hadn't noticed what?" Harry asked curiously, not really expecting an answer. Everyone else in Harry's life had kept secrets from him, why shouldn't Apollo?
"I hadn't realised that your feathers are not pure black as most Avengers' are. You're feathers are more of a really deep purple. No wonder you became one of us."
Harry arched an eyebrow and carefully manoeuvred the wing not examined by Apollo so that he could take a closer look at the feathers covering it. To his surprise, Harry found that the older man had been right, his feathers weren't black but a purple so deep that it looked black. But standing in the bathroom, surrounded by black marble, the true colour of the feathers was easy to see.
"What does it mean?" Harry asked, turning his attention away from his wings, glancing up at Apollo expectantly.
"It means that the betrayals you have experienced were deeper and more damaging to your soul than any of us expected." Realising that Harry didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, Apollo did his best to elaborate. "An Avenger is born through betrayal, I believe I told you that earlier."
Harry nodded his head, remembering the things Apollo had told him before they left Privet Drive.
"Most Avengers receive a blow so devastating to their person that they... die. Not physically, but their heart and soul, they just can't take any more, and they are reborn due to a fierce wish to avenge themselves on the ones betraying them. They are reborn from their mind's determination to get even, no matter the cost.
"It is a difficult concept to put into words," Apollo said with a sigh. "The rebirth is different for everyone since betrayal is always personal, and even though we are of one people, none of us are the same. We truly are a people of individuals," Apollo said with a small laugh.
"But back to the matter at hand. You, my child, are different in that it was your soul that controlled your transformation. For you, it was your heart and mind that shattered and died, while your soul cried out for retribution towards those who had wronged you. Because of that, because of the blood your sole bled when the betrayal was discovered, your feathers aren't black as most other Avengers are, but red."
"Oh," Harry muttered, stunned by the information he had been given, and equally stunned that he had actually gotten a reply to his question. "Does this mean that I am different from you?"
"Not really," Apollo replied soothingly, having an idea at what thoughts were running through his young charge's mind. "As I said, we are all individuals; there is no mould, no norm, no right or wrong as to what an Avenger is. The one big difference between you and most other Avengers will be that your magic most probably will be ruled by emotions instead of cold logic. I can't say for sure until we've had a chance to test you. But I wouldn't worry, you are you, and you are unique. Just as I am unique, and proud of it," Apollo said, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately. "Go on, take your shower. I've left some clothes on your bed. There is no hurry, just come and knock on my door when you are finished."
"Okay," Harry murmured, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by everything he had been told. "Apollo? Thank you," he added, giving the older man a tentative smile.
"You are welcome, little one. See you later," Apollo replied, giving the reeling teen a kind smile before exiting the bathroom.
A/N: This is a story I began writing a long, long, long time ago. I always intended to finish it, but since I've been unable to add a single word to this story, I think I will call it an UFO (unfinished object) and be done with it. If anyone wants to adopt this story, or the concept of the Avengers, you are free to do so. Just drop me a line and tell me the link since I'd love to read what you come up with.