QLFC Round 3, Captain: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: Write about an action or event that has major consequences.

Chudley Cannons Team Challenge: Role reversal of canon or a head canon

Warnings/Notes: clearly AU. Non-canon death (non-graphic)

WC. 2998

A Foolish Mistake

1967

Everything was as it should be. The tent was up, the chairs were set and the guests were all mingling in the fifteen minutes leading up to the wedding.

It was a glorious day, the sun shining with only a few clouds in the sky — a perfect summer for the most perfect event.

From within the walls of the Burrow — a small cottage with a living room, kitchen and single bedroom — Molly Prewett looked down upon everyone with a grim expression. This was her wedding day — it was supposed to be magical — so why did something deep within her feel terribly wrong?

The house which they had affectionately named the Burrow had been completed only two days prior. She and Arthur would be moving in tonight, ready to start their lives together as husband and wife.

Everyone looked so happy below, and Molly knew she should have felt the same, but shouldn't Arthur have been amongst the guests by now?

…

It was five minutes until the ceremony was to begin. All the guests had taken their seats and were now waiting amongst hushed whispers. They expected the ceremonial music to begin soon and to see the blushing bride in her beautiful dress begin to make her way down the aisle.

But with five minutes to go, the only sound that could be heard over the quiet talk was a piercing scream from somewhere behind them.

Guests jumped to their feet as the sound continued. Some dashed from the tent to see what the problem was. They followed the scream all the way around to the side of the Burrow where a small garden had begun to grow.

And then they stopped in their tracks.

There was Cedrella, dressed in her finest robes, tears streaming down her face. She turned to the guests with red, fearful eyes and stepped aside.

There on the ground, dressed in the robes he was supposed to be getting married in, lay the young, blank face of Arthur Weasley.

Dead.

…

1991

Albus Dumbledore paced his office, hands clasped tightly behind his back and his face set in one of serious contemplation. He didn't look up at the two other figures before him, though the loud sniffling of Hagrid was rather distracting.

Minerva simply stood and waited for him to speak, too used to moments such as these. He'd done it when word had come that Lily and James had been betrayed and murdered, and he was doing it again, now, when their son had not shown up at Hogwarts.

"I shoulda 'bin there," Hagrid sniffled, repeating the words for the eleventh time that evening. "I shoulda helped him onto the platform. I was foolish, Dumbledore. I know it…" He blew his nose into a large handkerchief.

"You cannot blame yourself, Hagrid," Albus said calmly. "It is not just you who is at fault. I have also misjudged the boy. I did not anticipate something like this happening, nor do I have anything in place to rectify it right now…" He paused, contemplating his options once more. Harry had missed his train due to a simple error — nobody had shown or told him how to get onto the platform. The boy's aunt knew, but Albus had misdeemed her contempt and jealousy. He had thought that maybe… he shook his head and Hagrid blew his nose once again.

"Albus?" Minerva interrupted. "Albus… surely the boy cannot continue to stay where he is? Surely we will have to collect him. I will volunteer to bring him to Hogwarts."

Albus nodded. "You are correct, Minerva. He needs to be at Hogwarts… yes, you will collect him in one week. I have word that he has made it safely back to Privet Drive — much to the displeasure of his family. He is safe there for now, but he will be safest here — especially now that he knows the truth of who he is."

Another loud sob filled the room as Hagrid buried his head in his hands, once again crying about his own ineptness.

…

Albus watched the boy intently. Whilst he had received frequent updates from Arabella Figg in regards to Harry's wellbeing over the years, he had not quite expected what he saw.

Harry was a small, scrawny boy with oversized clothes, and was clearly underfed and neglected. He'd grown up knowing nothing about who he was or where he came from, instead mistreated by those who Albus had entrusted to care for him.

As Harry sat on the three-legged stool, the Sorting Hat covering his eyes and the room silent with anticipation, Albus wondered just where the boy would be placed. His parents had both been Gryffindors, and had Harry been raised by them, he may have been put there too.

But… would things be different? Would his years of neglect and abuse stir something within the boy that would lead him on his own path?

Albus could not be certain, so he watched; waited.

The Sorting Hat deliberated for some time before the rip eventually opened and shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table erupted in applause, but Albus couldn't help but feel uneasy at this placing. There were children of accused Death Eaters within Slytherin House, and without the guidance of strong role models, he worried that Harry would fall into the same trap as Tom Riddle had all those years ago.

"We'll keep an eye on him, Hagrid," he said quietly to the man beside him. "I want you to keep an eye on him. Watch him carefully. Help him."

Hagrid nodded, beaming with pride. "O' course," he said. "O' course I will!"

…

Harry was lonely, Albus had observed. He didn't fit in with the other boys, nor did he seem to want to. The similarities to a boy long ago were uncanny. The solitude, the quiet nature, the charming, yet curious personality… it was all too familiar for Albus' mind to rest easy.

He couldn't help but wonder if Harry would have fared better in Hufflepuff, where some of the students would have befriended him, taught him of the wizarding world and of his past in a manner that set him as a renowned hero for ending a Dark wizard's reign, rather than one existing of contempt and the result of broken families.

Harry's fellow Slytherins seemed to blame him for what had happened all those years ago.

…

Albus had asked Severus to watch the boy, to keep him from harm; but it seemed that Severus' dislike for James Potter's son was stronger than Albus had anticipated.

Where Severus was supposed to be watching quietly, ensuring Harry was safe, Severus gave him detention. Where Severus was supposed to be going about it unnoticed, he had become a source of interest and curiosity to Harry.

Much to Albus' annoyance, Harry had turned to Quirinus for guidance, rather than a man that Albus whole-heartedly trusted.

There was a bubbling of anger threatening to surface within Albus that he needed to suppress.

Severus could have done better, but maybe Albus could have, also.

…

The troll lay unconscious at Albus' feet, the only sign of it being alive being the occasional grunt that emitted from its large form.

He felt both amazed and concerned over what had occurred. Amazed by the fact that an eleven year old boy had managed to take it on, on his own and won. Concerned for the very same reasons.

The boy had no reason to go after that troll other than out of sheer curiosity. Albus' instructions had been clear — all students were to return to their dormitories at once.

But Harry had sought it out, and Harry had stood up to it, and Harry had defeated it in a manner that no ordinary boy of eleven should have.

He had no friends, no help, and yet his power seemed to be so great that someone as inexperienced as the boy had taken out a fully grown mountain troll.

And it was sheer luck that Harry had not managed to kill it — Albus was certain that that might have been Harry's intention.

When questioned on the matter, standing in the corridor where the troll now lay, Harry's response had simply been, "I didn't want it to hurt any students."

Simple, yet worrying. Harry should have been killed by a troll that size.

"What does this mean?" Minerva asked, also staring down at the unconscious creature.

"It means two things," Albus said. "The first is that someone in this school knows of the Philosopher's Stone and has used this troll as a decoy to get to it. The second is that we will need to keep an even closer eye on young Mr Potter, as I fear that history has a very good chance of repeating itself."

…

He'd always told himself that he'd return the Invisibility Cloak when Harry came to Hogwarts. It had always been in his plans.

But as it lay before him, all of its shimmering thread and magic, Albus couldn't bring himself to do it. This was supposed to be the start of Harry's journey, leading him to the Deathly Hallows and the destruction of Voldemort and learning of his fate.

After the troll incident, though, and a few other things that had occurred over the months, Albus was wary. If he was to give Harry his father's Cloak, he feared the boy would use it not in the way James had. If Harry were to have the Cloak, Albus feared that the boy would discover many of the castle's hidden secrets that were not supposed to be found.

…

Hagrid once again stood in Albus' office, fat tears rolling down his face and a tablecloth-sized handkerchief pressed against his nose.

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore," he sobbed. "I didn' mean it, I swear. I thought…"

Albus had always had a lot of time for Hagrid, always with the suspicion that he had been unfairly expelled from Hogwarts. He'd taken him on as gamekeeper, turned a blind eye to the strange creatures Hagrid always somehow managed to get a hold of. He'd not even said anything when he'd learnt that Hagrid was in possession of a dragon's egg, thinking he'd take care of it once the creature grew too big.

But once again, Albus had been terribly wrong. Hagrid had believed that he could tame the dragon he'd affectionately called Norbert. He'd thought he could raise him and domesticate him — almost to be a pet at Hogwarts.

And it had resulted in Harry being horribly injured.

"Harry lays in the hospital, Hagrid," Albus said calmly, to which Hagrid nodded tearfully and blew his nose loudly. "Madam Pomfrey says he has sustained serious injuries to dragon fire."

Another loud trumpet on the handkerchief.

"He was helpin' me," Hagrid cried. "He's been helpin' me with Norbert. He was interested — wary, o' course — but interested nonetheless. And then Norbert jus' —"

"Acted as all dragons do, Hagrid," Albus said.

Hagrid howled.

"A student almost died tonight," Albus continued. "One you were supposed to be taking care of. I have been lenient, Hagrid, for you are a kind and a very loyal man, But this time… I'm sorry, Hagrid, serious injury to a student is something I can't ignore."

Hagrid stared down at Albus with teary eyes. "Wha' do ya mean, Dumbledore?" he asked.

"I mean," Albus said gently, "you are officially dismissed from Hogwarts. You have until tomorrow evening to leave, where you will be escorted to Hogsmeade."

"No!" Hagrid shouted. "You can't do tha'! Dumbledore, I have nowhere ter go. You know I —"

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Albus replied. "You've left me with no choice. It is no longer safe for you to be here."

Hagrid left the office, sobbing so loudly that he could be heard all the way down the corridor.

Albus leaned back in his chair, sighing. Hagrid had been the one positive influence in young Harry's life, and now even he was gone. But Albus had had no choice in the end. He could turn a blind eye to some of Hagrid's misgivings, but he could never, ever, stand for a staff member harming a student — intentional or not.

But still, Albus couldn't help but worry. What was Harry to do now?

…

The Stone had been protected by many teachers at Hogwarts. Many charms and spells had been designed to keep out even the greatest of wizards.

Albus had feared Tom was after it, and it seemed his suspicions had been true. Just not in the way that he had expected.

Tom was weak still, requiring to survive through the means of others. Hagrid had previously reported unicorns being killed in the forest, which had alerted Albus to the Dark wizard being close. He had amped up his protection of the Stone after that.

All the while, he had kept a very close eye on Harry. With Hagrid's absence from the school, the boy's desire for anything had diminished. He had no friends to guide him through his first year of magic, nor did he have someone to help him navigate the burden that had been placed upon him ten years ago.

It wasn't the right time for Albus to step in, he knew that, but after today, he thought that maybe he should. He had his staff keeping an eye on him — Minerva, Severus, Filius — yet it had not been enough.

And once again Albus had misjudged the nature of another person and it had resulted in dire consequences.

Quirrell.

Of course. Albus knew he should have seen through the facade of Quirinus' sudden timid nature. He had taught him as a boy and he had been anything but frightened. But he had believed the rumours — the stories of his travels changing him — and taken pity.

And not only had Quirrell helped Tom come back to power, but he had guided the boy to help him in doing so.

Harry had been lonely the whole year — frightened, scared and unsure. The boys who had attempted to make friends with him had been awful influences, having been exposed to Dark magic throughout their short lives.

Harry hadn't seemed to like the Malfoy boy much — Albus had at least seen very limited interaction between the two — but he knew of the things young Malfoy might talk about when no teachers were around to stop it.

Harry would have heard — he might have even been convinced that it was right.

Quirinus had taken advantage of the boy's loneliness and used it to his own advantage. Harry was naturally a very curious boy and somehow he had learned of the Philosopher's Stone — no doubt a slip up from dear Hagrid before his dismissal, in his desperate attempt to educate Harry.

It was only natural for Harry to want to find something that had the power of life, considering his traumatic past. Albus had watched him ponder this newfound knowledge of the Stone, filled with hope that he would begin his journey — his destiny — to stop Voldemort.

But he'd been mistaken. He'd not watched the boy close enough, putting too much faith in his innocence and kindness, than actually helping him.

And so here he was now, in the room where he had kept the Stone safe almost all year, looking down at the lifeless form of Harry Potter — the boy who had once lived, now the boy who had been misled.

Albus could only guess what had happened there, but he knew that his guess was correct. Quirinus had learned of Harry's desire to get the Stone, to perhaps stop Voldemort from getting it, and he had come to Harry, telling him he knew how to do it.

Harry had trusted a teacher who had buttered him up, and followed blindly, allowing himself to be led through all of the charms, all of the spells.

And then in one final attempt to resurrect his master, Quirinus had shown Harry his greatest desire — to have a proper family. He had promised to bring James and Lily back if Harry helped him find the Stone.

And, of course, Harry had believed him. Could Albus blame Harry for it? No, of course not. He had spent his whole life being mistreated by those who were supposed to care for him, and then he had come to Hogwarts a week later than everyone else and found himself friendless — his only positive influence forced from Hogwarts on the grounds of endangering others.

Of course Harry would believe that his parents could come back to him. What boy would not?

Albus should have hidden the Stone better. He should have foreseen this — that Harry would believe that he would want the Stone for good, that he wouldn't want to use it on himself, but then be tricked into it.

A foolish mistake had cost a young boy his life tonight.

After Harry had handed the Stone over with the anticipation of being reunited with his parents, Albus could only surmise that Quirinus (or maybe it was Voldemort now) had disposed of the boy. Killed him heartlessly — an act of revenge that had started ten years ago.

Albus could not control the tear that rolled down his cheek. He squatted and picked Harry up — limp and unmoving.

"I am very sorry, Harry," he whispered as he began to carry the boy from the room. "I am so very sorry for what has happened to you. I should have been more vigilant. More aware. I should have looked after you better."

Albus placed a kiss to Harry's forehead — a final goodbye to the boy he barely knew.

And then he carried him all the way back up, prepared to inform the others that a student had been lost this night.

This was very hard to fit into 3000 words lol, but after a lot of hair pulling, I'm mostly happy with how this turned out :) I hope you all enjoyed and saw a possible path of Harry's had the Weasleys not existed, had they not shown him how to get onto the platform, had he not met Ron (which meant it would not meet Hermione, because it was Ron complaining about her that brought about their friendship). It was Ron who organised Norbert to be sent to Romania, and it was with the help of his friends and knowing what it was to have friends that had him resisting Voldemort's promise to bring his parents back.

Thank you to my amazing teammates, for going over this more than once and your endless suggestions to help me write this. I am forever indebted to you, lol.