Disclaimer: The regular disclaimer still stays in place, I owe nothing but the AU and OC. The rest belongs to JKR.
My mind lives in the Harry Potter fanfiction world though my body is still thankfully anchored in the monotonous reality of existence. My themes, plotline, and storyline may, therefore, get indirectly influenced by many of the brilliant fanfiction writers on this site. And I humbly bow to such creative genius who give me much needed literary pleasures to see through the toils of mundane life. Lastly, I don't have a beta, so please be merciful. Reviews would encourage this introvert writer to peep out of her literary closet.
Like I mentioned, Scars deals with Post War AU situation, where though the Dark Lord had been killed, things had turned grim. Another threat in the name of Greyback had reared its head up. The population of Magical Britain had been drastically reduced and the survivors have to take steps to save themselves. This would ask for huge sacrifices both on personal and socio-economic levels. Foes will have to work together. Our own characters will grow out of their fumbling and faulty teenhood domina, war-hardened. They will carry both mental and battle scars and will learn to heal, find love, affection, and comfort in the oddest of places- in the hearts of long-standing enemies or people they had never looked back to twice. (tt)
Chapter 1
In the night sky of the ancient Black forest, five brooms had appeared out of nowhere. Clothed in dark robes, the five people had smoothly landed on the grass. Two women. Three men. Two of the taller men had brought forward two bundles, that they had been cradling close to their chest throughout the long ride from Magical Britain. The younger man had been looking around the small clearing they had just dismounted upon. It was quiet. An uncanny quiet even for a forest so dense.
One of the taller men had handed over his burden to the younger man. He was not only taller but thinner too. Gingerly the other had held it on the crook of his elbow. He removed the blanket that had been covering the small bundle. The older of the two women had come forward. Only the young man was able to her soft whisper, "Lumos". The tip of her wand had glowed in response. Throwing light over the face of a tiny baby with small chestnut hair. The baby had cringed his brow at the sudden light but had continued to slumber. the elders around him could feel the air growing chilly all of a sudden. Slowly the elder woman with the wand had brought out his tiny fist and had left it hanging out of his blanket.
In the meantime, the other bulkier man had walked up to the younger woman. Nodding to her once, he transferred his charge into her arms. She had quietly, removed the blanket and the face of another sleeping baby with platinum golden hair had shone brightly even if the surrounding was drenched in haunting darkness. The other taller man had taken this opportunity to slowly approach this other child. With his long bony fingers, he had carefully freed out her fist from the tangles of the warm blanket. Like the other one, he too left it hanging outstretched.
The young woman with the baby girl in her arms had walked up the young man. Giving him a rare smile she had stood facing him. The two babies' fists were now hanging, aligned one over the other. The older woman and the bulkier older man had stood out, creating patterns around the other three. Mumbling spells under their breath all the while. The taller and thinner man stood facing the young man and woman in the middle of the pattern that was shimmering on the ground below. The three had formed a perfect triangle. He had brought out a needlepoint knife. In the plain moonlight, its golden surface had glinted with a dull aura. Nodding twice at the couple with the snoozing babies in their arms, he had indicated, it was time to start the ritual. As if in a cue, each of them had opened the tiny fists of the babies, exposing their tiny soft palms under the night sky.
In his deep baritone voice, the man with the knife had begun singing an obsolete blood binding spell. With his rising tone, he had swiftly brought the edge of the knife on the baby boy's palm and had made a clean cut. The night air was filled with a sharp wail of the wounded child. Undeterred, he had brought the knife over the baby girl's palm, who had been woken up and had started whimpering too. A second wail had soon joined the first one. Without wasting any time, he had placed the two palms one over the other and then had processed in placing them on his larger one. Only securing the tiny fists tightly, he had signaled the two adults to proceed with the next step. They had brought their left-hand palms together and had placed them on top of the two tiny ones. The three were now cradling the two tiny fists, tight, within their jointed larger ones. They had remained linked through joined palms, letting the blood flow free from the wounds. Soon a drop, then another, had seeped out of the joined palms and freely had fallen off onto the ground below.
The other two older watchers had been waiting outside for this very moment. They had come forward and had pointed their wand at the odd group of five, joining in the song, the man with deep baritone voice was still singing. The wind had picked up, the trees shook and the ground had started vibrating. The patterns below their feet had started glowing. A deep crimson ray had started forming right where the drops of blood had fallen. Very soon, it had started rippling outwards. The wails of the unsettled babies were drowned by the high overtones of the adults. Only once had the ripple grew tight and the next moment it had exploded, sending the other older onlookers off their feet.
The man with the baritone voice shook slightly. He had let go of the palms he was so long gripping on from below. And removed his hood. All the other witches and wizards simultaneously had removed their hoods.
The younger couple, still holding the crying babies in each of their arms, had stared at the thinner and paler man in awe.
Shaking his head once and then twice, "I too did not expect it. A half veela and a half-werewolf to become soul bound. I clearly sang the archaic magic spell for blood protection…"
The bulkier older man with dark skin and a bald head had walked in closer. "What is done, is done. Magic still knows ways to surprise us," then shifting his gaze from the babies to the ones holding on to them, he had said, in a solemn voice, "That's it then, we better leave. Or else, our absence will be noted. I wish you both a happy married life, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Madam Tonks do take care."
"Kingsley, not yet." Severus Snape had swiftly pocketed the needlepoint knife inside its dedicated holster, that he had worn under his billowing robes. Then he had brought out a phial. Kneeling over the blood splatter still wet on the ground, he siphoned some off it into the phial and put the stopper back in place. Sending a long remorseful look at the baby girl, he pocketed it. Next, he had brought out a longish sack and had given it to the older woman.
"Andromeda, there are phials of healing potions and specific potions for infant ailments, you might require. There are a couple of basic caldrons, herbs, potions, ingredients, some clothes and other regular needs you all might require to set up, Poppy was kind enough to arrange for baby formulas, those are supposed to last long enough," he had once turned to Shacklebolt and then looking back at the emotional old woman, he had continued, "in case, I am not available, contact Mr. Neville Longbottom."
The woman had walked up and that hugged the man with all her might. He had stiffened at the sudden contact and at clumsily patted the others back.
"I don't know how to…"
"Don't Andromeda, I was always a duty-bound man, remember..."
Untangling himself from her fierce hug, he had turned to look at the young man. Giving him a piercing look, he had brandished his wand and had walked off to the nearest trees. In moments, he was transfiguring them into long logs and in half an hours' time, a decent cabin stood in the small clearing.
Swallowing once and taking a deep breath, Severus Snape, renowned for his hatred for Harry Potter, had hugged the man mindful of the baby boy, in his arms. Blinking away, tears, he had whispered close to the bewildered man's ears, "Lily would have been proud of you. And so am I, Harry. Consider that cabin, as my gift and my token of gratitude." Squeezing the man tighter for one more second, he had let go of him.
Next, he had walked up to the young woman. She had given him an encouraging dreamy smile and had held out the still whimpering baby girl. Carefully, he had taken her in his long bony arms. Running one long finger over her chubby cheek, in a soft loving voice, he had murmured, "Forgive me, little one, I know that did hurt a lot. But Godfather will always watch over you." Placing a chaste kiss over her brows, he had handed her over to the young woman.
Giving the five of them a long look, he had nodded curtly and had walked back to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had already picked up their individual brooms. They swiftly mounted their brooms, when the young man had called out from behind.
"Minister Shacklebolt, Professor Snape, if you ever so wish your owls to find us, in future, remember to address your parcels to either Mr. Heimrich Claysmith or Mrs. Launa Claysmith or Madam Skontas."
A second later two brooms rose a couple of feet high, hovering over the clearing for a while only disappeared in thin air.
The five magical people left behind had kept staring upwards into the night sky, when a howl of a lone wolf in this quiet Black Forest of Germany, had greeted the new dwellers for the first time.