Happy New Year's Eve, guys! I hope you all had great holidays, no matter whether you spent them with your family and/or friends or by yourself or whether you even celebrated anything at all.
I had originally meant to post a Yule special last Saturday but scrapped the idea on Christmas Eve because it didn't work out. That cost me a whole week so I started on this chapter fairly late and with literally no idea what to do. Not my best chapter but not unimportant either as it does answer some questions.
Anyway, see you all in 2017!
Night had fallen already, the sun having disappeared hours ago. July 31st was approaching quickly and the usual paperwork that always came with it had him tied to his desk for the third night in a row. His eyes were tired, his mind exhausted not only from the lack of sleep but also from the dull nature of the task at hand.
He was just about to call it a night, shortly after eleven, when the fireplace roared to life and nearly sent him jumping out of his skin. James Potter, with none of his usual grace, fell to the floor and Albus smiled gently, waiting for the younger man to get up. James made no move, however, and simply knelt there on the carpeted floor, his shoulders shaking. With a worried frown, Albus stood up and approached his former student.
"James? What is wrong?"
"Harry-" James sobbed. Dread settled in his stomach. "Harry- He- He's dead, Albus. My son- He- I can't-"
Images of a laughing baby boy flooded his mind. The child's vivid green eyes as they shone with innocent joy and his soft, messy black hair that refused to do as it was told. Harry's tiny, pudgy form, not quite one year old. So strong and filled with such a desire to live, yet so weak and fragile, all at once. That precious baby boy, dead and gone long before his time.
"James," he said quietly. "I'm so, so sorry, my boy."
James nodded and desperately tried to stop the endless flow of tears. "It was so sudden. Just- Just two hours ago, he was just fine. My baby- he was happy. And then, like that, he stop- stopped breathing and- and- Merlin, Albus, my son is dead. My baby son."
"The pain a parent feels upon losing their child is the rawest pain imaginable," he said. "I'm very sorry that you have to go through this, James."
They sat for almost half an hour, James kneeling on the floor and Albus beside him, patiently waiting for the distressed young man to gather his wits as best as he could. When his tears finally slowed and the sobs turned into hiccups, Albus helped James stand and moved him into a comfy chair by the fireplace.
"Where is Lily now?"
"Godric's Hollow," James said. "Harry too. Padfoot is with them. We just- we couldn't move him yet. I'll go to St. Mungo's next to- I have to- Harry needs a death certificate," he buried his face in his hands. "My son shouldn't need a death certificate, Albus. It's not fair! He's just a baby."
"I know, my boy. Unfortunately, Lady Fate is seldom fair. Harry didn't deserve to die so young and you didn't deserve to lose your child," he patted James' knee. "Go home, James. I will go to St. Mungo's and make the appropriate arrangements. Be with your wife and son for one last time. Everything else can wait for now."
The black-haired man nodded, wiped his hands on his pants and shakily stepped into the fireplace. He threw a handful of floo powder to the ground and spoke the name of his lodging as clearly as he could manage, leaving Albus alone once more. He leant back and closed his eyes. Harry's happy smile flashed in front of him. Had the boy gotten the chance to grow up, Albus had little doubt that he would've turned out much like Remus Lupin. Smart and kind-hearted but with a persistent streak of mischievousness. Harry would've been bolder than young Remus, with more confidence and proper self-esteem. He would have been a good person, someone his parents could've been proud of.
And maybe, just maybe, he would have been the Chosen One. In a few years' time, that little baby would've grown into a boy who held the power needed to defeat Tom for once and for all. Now, that task could only fall to Neville Longbottom, the son of Frank and Alice. He didn't doubt that Neville would be up to the task- he was the child of two very proficient young people, after all. Little Neville would make a fine Chosen One.
He sighed. With no one else to qualify as the one the prophecy spoke about, he would have to inform Frank and Alice of their son's inevitable fate. Neville, who had turned one this very day, would either have to kill Tom or be killed by him. There was no middle ground, no other path to be taken.
But first, he needed to make sure that Harry Potter got a proper farewell. By the time Albus left Hogwarts, July 31st had started. The clock had just struck two am when he walked through the corridors of St. Mungo's and made his way toward the maternity station. He had always found it morbid that the deaths of minors had to be reported just down the hall from where the newborns slept but today, he found it plain inappropriate. Harry had been born in this very ward and had slept in that very nursery. He stopped in front of the window that looked into the nursery and glanced toward the cradle Harry had occupied this time last year. There, sleeping tight and peacefully was a baby boy, wrapped up in a blue blanket. The child's name, Finian Malfoy, floated above his head and beside him, equally as snuggly wrapped but wide-awake, was another boy, Eoin.
He had heard of Lady Malfoy's pregnancy. The Daily Prophet had reported on it when the announcement first came out. Twin sons, one to replace the Malfoy's firstborn son, a little boy with a terminal illness, and another one to serve as scion. The twins' arrival would secure the Malfoy line once and for all.
Eoin's eyes, disoriented and too young to focus on anything properly, flitted by him. Like all newborns, little Eoin was the most innocent being to have ever existed. Both he and his twin brother were blank slates, with their lives ahead of them. Soon enough, they would walk and talk. Their impressionable minds would be filled with tales of pureblood supremacy and their magic would be trained to perform acts of Dark Magic at will. Those innocent babies would likely grow up into pompous boys, spoilt and arrogant, especially since their uncle, Cicero Malfoy, had died over a year ago. Between Cicero and Lucius Malfoy, Albus had always placed his hopes in Cicero.
He was the elder brother and equipped with a kinder and braver soul than Lucius. Whilst he didn't love Muggleborns and their non-magical kin, he had never expressed a wish to see them dead either. When the war had begun in earnest, Cicero had chosen to fight with Albus instead of Tom, effectively putting himself on the side of the war that opposed his brother's ideals.
As he looked upon the twin brothers, he felt desperation and pity rise in him. The boys didn't know of the lives their parents would force them into or the horrible crimes they would be made to endorse and commit. They didn't know that one day, soon, they would support a cause that was pure evil.
It's not fair!, James' voiced echoed in his brain and Albus found himself agreeing whole-heartedly. It wasn't fair that on the day Lily and James, a kind-hearted and loving couple, lost their only child, Lucius Malfoy, a vile, angry man, was gifted two more sons by his wife. It just wasn't fair. So many better people deserved to have a child but were unable to have one but Lucius Malfoy with all of his evil thoughts and concepts became the father of three sons within thirteen months. He didn't deserve those babies. He didn't have any right to darken their minds and turn their hearts into ice.
On a whim, Albus slipped into the nursery, invisible and without making a single sound. The boy's eyes were blue, as vivid as Harry's green eyes had been, and the tuft of hair on his head was almost white. He was the picture of aristocracy, the perfect blend of Malfoy and Black. One day, when the boy and his brother were grown up, they would make handsome young men.
Eoin squirmed in his swaddling clothes and untucked his right arm. A tiny bracelet was on his wrist with his name written upon it. Albus took the child from his cradle and rocked him gently, smiling at the soft noises the boy made.
Albus would never forget that moment that changed the entire Wizarding World. He would never forget the surge of love and protectiveness that washed over him as he held little Eoin Malfoy in his arms and rocked him to sleep, trying to envision what the child's future would be like. He would never quite understand what exactly had made him walk into the nursery. More importantly, he would never really be able to figure out what he had been trying to achieve when he walked out of the nursery again with the child still in his arms. Had little Finian not awoken and made a fuss, Albus was rather sure he would have left the younger brother in his cradle, where he belonged. But the child fussed and Albus, ridden by emotions, had taken him as well.
He hadn't meant any harm. He simply wanted to save them from a dreary, dark life that would see them in the services of Tom, doomed to a lowly existence as Death Eaters. Only later, when he had returned to his office, had he realised what he had done and had almost- almost- brought the twins back. But then he had remembered James and how broken he was and his mind wandered to Minerva's daughter, young Aria, and her husband Kelvin, unable to have a child of their own, and he had made a decision. He had been sure that it was for the best- for everyone. The boys would grow up happy. They would grow up with a good set of morals and loving families. That Eoin might be able to step into Harry's spot in regards to the prophecy was only an added bonus, so to speak.
He knew he didn't regret his actions nearly as much as he should but all things considered, he thought everything had indeed worked out for the better. Eoin, to no little surprise to Albus, became the Chosen One despite the fact that he didn't truly fit the description given by the prophecy. Yes, he had grown up under less than favourable conditions with Lily's resentful sister and her ignorant husband but it had turned him into a good and loyal young man. He was kind and true to his heart. He was tolerant and loving, protective of those who he cared for and who couldn't defend themselves and honourable in every sense of the word. He was the sort of boy any parent could be proud of- Albus certainly was proud of him.
As for Finian, he had gotten a great life. Growing up under the persona of Nathan Longbottom, he had experienced the best childhood any boy could ask for. He had been beloved and cherished all his life, adored by almost every single person he had met. He was raised on books and stories, enriching his mind and equipping him with a vast array of knowledge and wisdom for a boy his age.
Even for Narcissa, the twins' biological mother, the story had a happy end. Her eldest son, thriving under the undivided attention placed upon him, had miraculously survived his illness and her younger sons had been returned to her at fourteen years of age, with plenty of time to spare for her to get to know them- or Finian at least. It pained him deeply but Albus knew, with horrible certainty, that Eoin would not survive the war. For Tom to die, the boy who grew up as Harry Potter would have to be killed as well and by Tom's hand no less. That his own actions had led to the child's inevitable murder was one of Albus' greatest regrets. Eoin didn't deserve to have been thrust into such a life- no child deserved that.
As it was, the beginning of the second war was approaching quickly and Albus, no matter how little he cared for the task, would have to start preparing Harry soon. The news of the mass breakout from Azkaban had reached him just minutes earlier. It was concerning, albeit not surprising, that Tom was trying to gather his former inner circle. With loyal servants like Bellatrix Lestrange locked up for life, he had expected that there would be a breakout sooner rather than later, especially now that he could not dare appear in public for fear of being arrested and taken away to Azkaban if the wrong man saw him.
He hated having to stay in hiding. It did no one any good for him to be rot away in a little hut atop a mountain, with only minimal contact to the world. Members of the Order kept him updated on all that happened and a special owl, trained to fly to several different locations before coming to him, delivered the Prophet to him every time a new edition was released. Severus would arrive soon. His position with the Dark Lord, thankfully, hadn't been compromised beyond repair after Lucius' arrest and Narcissa's betrayal. The younger man hadn't come from his first meeting after the battle of Malfoy Manor unscratched but he certainly had had worse. With the breakout, Tom was sure to summon his circle and Severus with them. He hoped his spy would bring him news of a grand scheme- Tom needed to pull a stint large enough that no one could deny his return any longer and once that happened, Albus could come back as well, his name and glory restored and with the faith of the world once more resting with him.
It was close to midnight when he finally saw the black figure creeping up the mountain side. A slender person, a woman by all looks of it, was by his side. Albus frowned. As they got closer, he could make out the hooked nose of Severus Snape, the greasy black hair that framed his shallow face and the dark eyes that knew only one emotion. Narcissa Black was walking beside him, easily keeping pace with his long strides. She looked more gaunt than the last time he had seen her picture in the Prophet, the day she divorced Lucius and was awarded custody of all three of her sons.
He opened the door before they reached his narrow porch and smiled at them, his hands clasped before him.
"Severus, my dear boy," he said. "Miss Black, what a pleasure to see you again. Come in, I'm certain there are a lot of things that need discussing. Tea? A lemon drop, perhaps?"
"A what?" Narcissa asked.
"A lemon drop. A Muggle sweet. One of the few luxuries I can afford in my current state, alas."
"No, thank you, Albus," Severus said curtly, taking his stand by the fireplace. Narcissa sat in the armchair closest to the door as Albus sat back in the purple one by the stove.
"What news do you have for me, Severus?"
"The breakout, as expected, was the Dark Lord's work. I had not been involved in the planning."
"Yes, I do assume a Potion's Master would be of little help in this regard. The Prophet was vague- is there many a familiar face among the escaped?"
"Indeed. Eleven of the Dark Lord's former most trusted fled successfully, nine have returned to him so far. The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Rookwood, Travers and Mulciber among others."
"No word of your sister and husband, Miss Black?"
"Ex-husband," she corrected stiffly. "As Severus informed me, Lucius split from the group early on and fled. My sister went after him."
"She swore to bring back nothing but his head," Severus added. "The Dark Lord cares little for the matter. He ordered Rodolphus to find her and bring her back in a timely manner. Lucius takes no priority for now."
He nodded. "Has he attempted to contact either of you?"
"No but that's not surprising. Lucius will know that he won't be able to find Narcissa unless she reveals herself to him and he can't contact me until he finds a way to do so secretly and without arousing suspicion."
He leant back. So far, none of the information was surprising in the least, nor very useful to him. It was good to hear that Tom wasn't going after Lucius Malfoy, however. He needed the man alive and unharmed, for the sake of the Black boys. He suspected that neither Harry nor Nathan cared for the man but that he would potentially lose Draco if harm came to his father. "Have you spoken with your sons yet, Miss Black?"
"I have not," she said. "I will return to Hogwarts with Severus and see them for myself."
"I saw Finian and Draco before I left for Headquarters. Draco was in distress but Finian appeared controlled enough. I suspect they met with P- Eoin and their extended group of…friends to discuss the situation."
"Speaking of Eoin, I do wonder, how is he adjusting so far? This is certainly no easy situation for a boy to slip into."
"You tell me," Narcissa said, narrowing her eyes. "You're the one who brought him into this situation by kidnapping him and his brother from their cradles," she took a deep breath. "That is what I am here about. I have been consulting with Aria and Kelvin Longbottom, my son's adoptive parents, and I want some answers from you."
He smiled at her encouragingly and she went on. "When my sons were born, they weren't perfectly healthy. They were premature and suffered the consequence. From what little I could gather, Harry seems to have recovered completely but Nathan still would occasionally struggle to breath among other things. What did you do? Why was one boy healed and the other not?"
He sighed. "I gave them a potion called Chorion-"
"Chorion?" Severus perked up. "Albus, you old fool, that potion is highly experimental to this day."
"I know, Severus. However, I believed it to be the boys' best chance. It worked for Harry flawlessly, with the exception of his rather small frame. I was certain it had worked for Nathan as well but when he was five weeks old, Kelvin floo called me. He was hysterical because the baby had stopped breathing and was turning blue. Madam Pomfrey saved the child and rid him of his symptoms until the cure was found by Muggles when he was ten years old."
The mother looked down onto her folded hands, which lay in her lap, and processed what she had just been told. Then, after a while, she looked back up at him with eyes that looked as cold as the stormiest winter. "Did you plan it all along? When you found out Harry Potter was going to die, did you plan for my son to be his replacement? To make my boy fit for a prophecy which wasn't meant for him?"
"No," he said sincerely. "I hadn't. When I heard of your pregnancy, I thought nothing of it. I knew Harry was sick but I never wanted to imagine him dead so I never made any plans. I saw your sons in the nursery. Finian was asleep in the cradle that Harry had once slept in and Eoin was wide awake beside him. It was an impulsive reaction."
"Are you sorry? Do you regret it?"
"I am," and he meant it. "I am terribly sorry for all the pain I caused you and I am sorry for what I made Harry and now Nathan go through. I apologise and hope you find it in yourself to forgive me."
For a moment, he thought she was going to reject his apology, however true it was. He did really mean it. He knew he had caused her unimaginable pain. He had made her grieve the loss of her baby boys for fourteen years and had dragged Eoin into a war that wasn't his own and now, there was no way to take it back. Eoin was the Chosen One and he needed to fulfil his purpose.
Narcissa nodded slowly. "Fine. I…forgive you. But I need you to do something for me."
"Anything if it's in my power."
"I need you to come back," she said. "Come back and save my sons."
It was time. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore needed to return.
Chorion is Latin and means 'Afterbirth'. It's a potion I made up which is supposed to basically bring preemies up to speed development-wise. It never passed the experimental stage and was never released to the public. Albus obtained one through less than legal means and got really lucky that it worked for Eoin and didn't cause the boys any further harm. But, you know. Good intentions and all.
Also, the poll regarding the name change is still open. So far, only three people have voted and they have voted for three different options so it's not a decisive result as of yet. I'm gonna keep the poll open for at least another month. It'd be really awesome if you could vote, it takes just a few seconds.