Author's Note: Apologies for the delays with getting this chapter out. I am traveling so much for work that I have very little time to write. Not even going to mention the time-suck that is buying/selling a house.
But when I had time I wanted to make sure that I got my ducks in a row with future chapters since second year is really when the fun starts. I'm crossing my fingers that updates become more frequent but I am not making any promises.
At any rate, a continued thanks for reading.
Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.
One of Harry's goals for the summer had been to explore every possible avenue that was or could be possible with the Mind Arts. It may not have been the best or most exciting way to spend a summer but he was limited by the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic; that, and he was extremely wary after his last conversation with Albus Dumbledore.
Even within the confines of Number Four Privet Drive, he was hesitant to be as open with his wandless magic for fear of someone seeing something that he didn't want them to.
Yet.
It also meant that he wasn't able to frequent Diagon Alley as much as he would have liked; he just didn't know if anyone or anything would have been watching him.
Still, the fact that he was not only learning the Mind Arts but mastering skills far beyond his years helped to momentarily assuage any extreme discontentment that he had with keeping his guise in tact; at least he wasn't wasting his time just sitting around and twiddling his thumbs.
And focusing on just a single course of study meant that Harry became extremely proficient in a very short amount of time.
Granted, he had already learned how to go through and relive another person's memories, but now he was able to fully invest himself in the other applications of this branch of magic. Like the nuances he now appreciated in concealing a memory that he had first been introduced to in his dealings with Neville and helping the boy to forget his interactions with Phineas and Icarus.
But what he found to be most interesting was in being able to plant completely false and made-up memories; which incidentally had led to several humorous episodes in which Uncle Vernon had taken to going around the house trying to relive his glory days of being Britain's most celebrated dancer.
The look on young Dudley's face at his rotund father pirouetting around the kitchen had been priceless, and something that the older Dursley had been surprisingly and suspiciously good at.
However, Harry rarely partook in such childish acts because, in his mind, he had very serious and important things that he needed to prepare for. But for those times in which it was important and necessary to apply what he was learning, then Harry would indulge in releasing some of the resentment that he still harbored against the Dursleys.
Ultimately, all of his efforts did serve his purpose of mastering what he could do with his mind and magic; indeed, it was during his studies that he had even stumbled upon another application of the Mind Arts that was different enough for him to classify it as such.
With enough practice it was very easy and straightforward to hide or implant a memory, but it was strangely more difficult to add on to an existing memory and alter it ever so slightly. Harry theorized that it had to do with taking existing emotions and feelings that had surrounded the specific memory and altering those as well, which wasn't exactly straightforward since those existed separately from where the memory was stored.
Luckily Aunt Petunia was such a willing participant, and towards the end of the summer he had finally gotten the hang of the subtly required in making his additions go seamlessly with the existing memory. And in doing so, he came to an essential conclusion regarding one of the limitations of magic: one could only play with a person's mind in so far as it didn't immediately alter who a person fundamentally was at their core.
In other words, while you could completely take over someone's body and control their every move, or even take a memory away, the part of them that was defined by their past could not be changed. A person's free will and ability to make decisions based on their cumulative life-experiences was sacrosanct.
Which was why it had taken Harry longer than he had thought it would to simply add onto an existing memory.
Creating a memory was easy, and oftentimes it could and would affect a person's future decision-making abilities. However, that was only ever possible if a person responded to that memory by creating a new and independent life-altering event.
For example, if the memory of a homosexual encounter were implanted into an otherwise heterosexual's mind, then that memory wouldn't suddenly make them gay or bisexual. It would just give them something to think about.
Alternatively, if a newfound fear of spiders were added to someone's collective existence then it may or may not take up root depending on how well the person in question was dealt with their fears. If they dealt with them in a healthy manner then it was unlikely that the memory would affect them going forward since they could handle their fears. But if they were the type of person that didn't have a handle on their fears, well…
Likewise, covering up a memory could never remove how that event had changed a person's life since what they had taken away from that experience was stored elsewhere. And messing with that area was something that Harry had found to be quite impossible altogether.
But eventually, Harry did come to understand that as long as he worked alongside existing emotions when adding onto a memory, his alteration of the memory could hold, and in some cases even become permanent if it was seamlessly done.
It was a subtle but important caveat, and, oh, how he had further devastated Petunia for the few moments that he had let her awareness return to the surface by letting go of his hold over her to see the effects first-hand.
Watching her face morph into the fresh emotions of reliving her slightly-altered past offered Harry a small measure of comfort that she had withheld so much from him when he had been younger and just beginning to form how he saw himself.
It had been most entertaining to watch her remember not only Lily receiving a Hogwarts' letter but receiving one for herself as well. Of course, that had been until Petunia had received another letter a few days later saying that there had been an error and that only Lily was going to Hogwarts. Everything else had stayed the same.
Harry had made her worst memory even harder to stomach, and Petunia had deserved it for not telling Harry that he had been a wizard from birth. He would never let her forget that mistake.
Although, the vast majority of his forays into the minds of the Dursleys weren't just to play. Because, he had returned from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with so many more questions than when he had left for the castle back in September.
And hardly any of his current concerns were related to the material; not with how clear Albus Dumbledore and the events surrounding the year's end had made it to Harry that there was something else, something very big that was still being withheld from him.
However, Harry had just turned twelve and needed to act accordingly; it wasn't like he could demand answers or freely research as much as he would have liked – which was the main reason why he spent his time inside Privet Drive and away from Diagon Alley.
For now there was little doubt in his mind that Privet Drive wasn't being watched by someone reporting to Dumbledore. He would have been surprised if there wasn't given what he knew or suspected about how the man operated.
That fact also explained why he took such careful measures of entering the Dursley's minds at mealtimes or late at night when he was as sure as he could be that no one was spying on him or would question him being face-to-face with someone for that length of time.
Which also meant that Harry was left with large parts of his day where he could have been bored, except that he continued to catalogue his research into the Mind Arts during those lulls and wrote extensively about his observations.
When he wasn't working on that, he was instead perusing the many texts that he had either copied – or borrowed rather – from Hogwarts' massive library. It was a good thing that he had had that foresight, otherwise he was positive that he would have eventually given into his desire to read something even remotely associated with magic and risked a trip to Diagon Alley for his sanity.
However, being the type of person that he was he just couldn't resist all those books just lying there completely. Therefore, he limited himself to owl-ordering just a single book that was more or less age-appropriate every week. Though towards the end of the summer he did manage to convince himself that an entire series on a particular topic counted as a single book.
At any rate, by the time that August rolled around Harry was getting a little bored and he was very much looking forward to meeting Justin and Neville in a few days in Diagon Alley to get his supplies for the upcoming year.
The absence of their magic against his own had been uncomfortable for him to adjust to during his first week back at Privet Drive; however, they had remained in contact and both boys had written to him frequently throughout the summer, updating him on their progress. Harry was quite pleased with how much effort the pair had been putting into their studies or going through the beginning stages of calming their thoughts per his instructions.
For what he had planned for his future, and to be able to trust that they could keep his secrets if it ever came to that, Harry knew that it was essential that they start to learn some of the Mind Arts for themselves.
But that was looking very far into the future and Harry had much more pressing things to contend with as he sat down to dinner on a sweltering August evening, intent on delving into Petunia's mind once more.
After going through everything from the preceding year, Harry concluded that it would be best to go back to the beginning. Well, not to his birth since even with his amazing memory he couldn't remember that specific moment or anytime shortly thereafter. But at least he would be able to see what his beginning at Privet Drive had been like, and after finding out that it was Dumbledore who had left him on the Dursleys' doorstep Harry had wanted to see just how everything had unfolded.
So midway through dinner, Harry sat down his knife and fork next to his half-eaten plate and gathered a small tendril of his magic and dove straight into Petunia's mind.
Like usual there was no resistance and soon Harry's consciousness blinked into her mental landscape and he started sifting through her memories to find his target. It took longer than he had expected it to since he had been in her mind many times previously and knew the layout, but this particularly memory had been buried deep within her mind as if she had spent great effort in trying to forget that it had ever happened.
The difficulty in accessing it only made Harry want to know what had transpired even more, and with a little more effort he soon found what he was looking for.
The smirk that showed on his actual face while he was sitting at the dining room table was truly predatory as his mental counterpart reached out and started replaying the memory from that morning when he was found next to the milk bottles all those years ago.
Harry had gotten used to the otherworldly sensation of dropping into another person's memory; he had done it often enough.
He had also adjusted to how eerily similar number four, Privet Drive, had looked a decade ago. A reasonable person would have thought that after ten years of living in a house with two growing boys that at least some of the furnishings would have changed; however, the Dursleys were not considered reasonable people and did not like change.
And Harry had had more important things to worry about than fixing the décor when he took control of his life, leaving the majority of the daily running of the house to the subconscious workings of Petunia.
So the only things that highlighted the fact that Harry was even watching events from another decade were that Vernon's beard was not yet gray and that Petunia's hair was straighter and more healthier looking.
And then there was Dudley, who was a swarthy infant with a greedy look in his eyes for anything except the expensive and horribly healthy baby food that Petunia was currently trying to feed him while Harry remained off to the side waiting for the memory to progress to the important part.
But the sounds of Petunia oohing and aahing with her futile attempts to make the airplane spoon go into Dudley's protesting mouth were loud and he found the display to be oddly humorous.
Of course, Petunia's frustration was lost on Vernon who was busy scarfing down his own breakfast while trying to read the unsavory daily news.
"Fireworks last night, all over the country it seems," the large man groaned.
"It's unnatural at this time of year if you ask me."
"What was that, dear?" Petunia inquired, taking a minute to wipe the beads of sweat from her brow.
Trying to feed little Dudley nutritious food was apparently quite tedious, and for the moment she had given up trying to feed Dudley his mashed peas and carrots. Harry watched her put the rest of it back in the fridge before pulling out what Dudley had been holding out for: the chocolate pudding.
"It seems that there were reports of fireworks up and down Britain last night. Large ones. Unruly kids no doubt who are in need of a good beating," Vernon said cautiously.
He then crumbled up the paper and gave Petunia a brief glance in which the same thought passed through both of their minds, except that neither would ever, under any circumstances, utter those blasphemous words aloud. The topic of wizards, witches, and magic was sacrilegious in the Dursley Household.
Knowing that she could calm this situation – and Vernon – her nostrils flared along with her patented, condescending sneer that accompanied the straightening of her pearls.
"Their parents should be ashamed of themselves that they would let their kids be such a nuisance. All of those little hoodlums wanted nothing more than to be a disruption, no doubt. But our little Dudekins won't grow up to be like them," she said to Vernon's approving nod before turning her attention back to her pudding-loving progeny.
"Yes, just like I said: unruly kids in need of a good beating."
Vernon was much calmer now and rewarded himself with another helping of bacon.
With their denial and less likely explanation for fireworks in October set in stone, Vernon lingered for a few more moments before finishing the last of the bacon and gathering the supply information for a shipment of drills that he intended to sell that day.
The twelve-year-old Harry was mildly interested in what had been left unsaid between them, but he was inpatient to get towards the front door, to where he knew that his younger form was waiting.
However, he had to wait until Petunia's memory took him there, but thankfully the scene seemed to be heading that way quickly as Vernon kissed his wife and son goodbye before heading towards the front door.
Harry remained in the kitchen with Petunia until they heard Vernon Gasp from the front of the house. Almost immediately, Petunia bolted upright before practically running out of the room with Harry being tugged along as a whimpering Dudley was left trying to reach for the spoon with remnants of chocolate pudding on it that had been dropped just out his arm's reach.
Harry followed behind Petunia with a curious expression on his face as he came to stand just behind the Dursleys. Though he found that he did need go up a few steps on the stairs behind them to be able to see properly, and it was there that he caught the first glimpse of his infant self.
Of course, the infant version of himself was hard to see over the bulging vein on Vernon's forehead. Harry had almost forgotten just how big that thing could get.
After spending a few moments contemplating the difficult years that laid in store for the infant, he turned his attention to Petunia.
Like her husband, her gaze was fixated on the baby; however, while Vernon was quite obviously furious over this inconvenience, Petunia's face was white and for the briefest of moments her otherwise rigid exterior had been broken completely. Though, her shocked countenance was short-lived and her face soon returned to a normal color.
It was likely that she had forced herself to return to normal for her husband's sake.
However, during those few seconds in which her feelings were unguarded, Harry was able to clearly read his mother's name silently form on his Aunt's lips. To be honest, the act surprised Harry since he didn't think that the woman had any capacity to bear an emotional response over anyone that wasn't considered normal.
But it wasn't just the fact that she had mouthed Lily's name, nor was it the blanching of her face that greatly intrigued Harry.
For in this moment, there were two things that captivated his attention. The first was just how quickly she had come to the conclusion that a baby on her doorstep meant that her sister was dead.
And the second was only noticeable because Harry was watching the memory from inside her own mind and thus able to feel some of the things that she had felt as the events had unfolded.
Therefore, not only did her face register her shock and recognition for what little Harry Potter being there meant, but Harry felt another memory stir within her mind that had been the reason for why she knew that Lily had been killed in the first place.
If Harry had seen this memory inside of a pensieve – something that he didn't know existed yet – he would have not been privy to this added information. But he hadn't watched it through a pensieve and so he knew at once that when this memory was finished he had another to go hunting for.
Quite honestly, it was more than he had expected to find and there was still more to this current memory; they hadn't even gotten to the letter that was placed on the child yet!
Therefore, he forced himself to refocus while the rest of the scene unfolded.
It took Vernon longer to come out of his angry stupor than for Petunia's face to return to normal, but Harry caught the shared glance that he and his wife shared with each other. Soon after he noticed their comical realization that perhaps one of their neighbors would see them standing outside with an infant at their doorstep.
However, neither acted immediately since they were both of the mindset that if they ignored something thoroughly enough that it usually went away. They had done this so often enough that it was an innate response.
Except that there was a letter addressed to Petunia that was lying face-up, and with their inaction it began to shake and float upwards.
That act roused both of them and Vernon quickly made a grab for the baby while Petunia clutched onto the letter and fought to bring it inside.
The pair had just managed to shut the door at the very moment that the voice of one, Albus Dumbledore, sounded throughout their home.
"Petunia Dursley,
It is imperative that you take young Harry Potter into your home and raise him. His parents, your SISTER, were killed by Lord Voldemort last night. Trust me when I say that there is no place safer for him, or for YOUR FAMILY, than to all remain together at this or another place you call home.
The consequences of not heeding this request could and will be deadly.
Know that only if your nephew stays here will YOUR FAMILY be protected. It would be wise for you to think of DUDLEY during this difficult time. Especially since I do not think that Lord Voldemort will stop until Harry and HIS ENTIRE FAMILY are dead.
Taking Harry in will activate old and powerful magic that will offer protection for all who dwell here – something MUCH STRONGER than what was used to keep James and Lily safe.
Think of YOUR FAMILY, Petunia, and watch over Harry until he goes to Hogwarts at the age of eleven. He then must return to your house every summer and be able to call it home for the protection to remain in effect for YOUR FAMILY.
I'LL BE WATCHING,
Sincerely,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Order of Merlin, First Class
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot
and Grand Sorcerer"
The letter then crumbled in on itself and fell to the floor as hundreds of tiny shreds of parchment.
Unbeknownst to Harry, since he couldn't exactly see his face at the moment, he had the same shocked expression that both Petunia and Vernon were wearing in response to Dumbledore's threatening letter.
One would have thought that a talking letter that could float would be enough to shock anyone into silence, but that didn't apply to Vernon Dursley. Especially if he had just been threatened inside his own home.
"Who does this wizard thinks that he is that he can threaten us in our house?" Vernon roared before Petunia rounded on him so quickly that it snapped Harry out of his own surprised daze.
"He WILL be staying with us, Vernon!" she said quickly and firmly with no hesitation.
It was the most decisive that Harry had ever seen her and there was no doubt that her word was the final subject on this matter.
"For Dudley's sake!" she then added as she grabbed her nephew from her husband's arms and headed back into the kitchen.
Harry expected more of a response from Vernon besides the dismissive glance that he gave as he followed his wife back into the kitchen and the string of 'freak-related insults' under his breath.
But Harry wasn't really paying all that much attention to his Aunt or Uncle, and certainly not to Dudley who was clearly not happy with having to temporarily share the attention of his mother.
How could he think of anything other than how truly manipulative Albus Dumbledore really was? It wasn't often that people surprised him and it was clear that Dumbledore was more devious that he had previously given the man credit for.
And pompous didn't even begin to describe him, either. Who wrote a letter like that and then signed it with every title they had ever received?
However, the way that the man had played Petunia had been brilliant, even if it was rather disconcerting with how he had gone about it.
When more and more of Harry's ability to think returned to him, he knew that he would have to really recalculate how he went about things. At least he knew that his precautions that he had taken for the summer in lying low had been warranted.
Not only had Dumbledore directed the course of his life from the very beginning, but Harry was now positive that the man would continue to exert some form of control over him; both now and into the future.
Although, despite how uncomfortable he was in knowing that Dumbledore had been and was this involved with his life – even if he didn't know why - Harry couldn't help but smile inside Petunia's mind at just how much Dumbledore had given away.
It was likely that Dumbledore wasn't as careful with his words in that letter since he never expected them to ever be heard by someone else. Harry may not have known what protections had been used or the reason that Voldemort had not died, but he had a better place to start searching for those answers than he had had before.
And he was certain that Dumbledore had been completely honest with what he had said to guilt Petunia into accepting him into her home because of the fact that those words were not expected to be heard by anyone else. Why go through the difficult of coming up with a lie when the truth worked so much better?
The only thing that he couldn't understand was why the man would go through all of this trouble to keep him safe. Why was he so important?
"And why would Voldemort not rest until me and my family were killed?" Harry said to himself as the memory ended and he returned to his chair at the table.
Petunia and Vernon were absentmindedly finishing their meals while Harry continued to deliberate over what he had just seen.
"So the man really had known that Voldemort was still alive," Harry confirmed his earlier feeling that Dumbledore really had used the Stone to lure the man out of hiding.
Knowing the reason – and knowing the extent of the length of time that Dumbledore had known - was very different than just suspecting someone's motivation for acting.
He put his hands to his temples and rested his elbows on the table.
"I just don't understand where I fit into all of this," Harry asked the million-dollar question again over his forgotten plate of food.
The lingering question left over from his conversation with Dumbledore in the Hospital Wing and the examination of his life was starting to give him a very bad headache and he was still no closer to understanding things.
He didn't like that information had been withheld from him and he took several calming breaths in order to bring about his resolve that he would not rest until these very important questions had been answered.
Apart from wondering why Voldemort had cared about the Potters and their child, he now had several that related to Dumbledore and his behavior.
But he didn't have the time to sit there and contemplate why that man thought so highly of himself that he needed to play God with other people's lives.
Thankfully, Harry had the newly-found knowledge that Petunia held another memory, and it was too tempting to pass up for much longer and with another flair of his magic, Harry entered her mind once more.
It didn't take him long to find this particular memory. No doubt the recent viewing of finding a young Harry Potter by Petunia's subconscious had brought it towards the forefront of her underlying thoughts, and thus made it readily available to him.
But as Harry appeared within it the first thing that he was hit with was the smell. It was another interesting side effect of being inside a person's mind as a memory was being replayed. Odors were sometimes so strong or distinct that they were often an integral part of a memory, and impossible to disassociate with what had occurred.
Therefore, Harry wasn't surprised with the various aromas of tea that immediately attacked his nose; they were in a café after all. However, what did interest him was the predominant type of tea that he smelled.
The only tea that Harry had ever sampled before going to Hogwarts was green tea, as it was the only tea that Petunia ever allowed in the house. Even after he had taken over the minds of his Aunt and Uncle, he never bothered himself with establishing mundane tasks like grocery shopping.
The aroma of the green tea was very distinct from the notes of Earl Grey that he smelled now because that had become his drink of choice while in the castle.
The combination of the strong smell that Petunia associated with this memory and her subsequent beverage choice made perfect sense to Harry from the moment he saw his mother sitting across from Petunia.
She had stopped drinking Earl Grey because of this event, because of what Harry was about to see.
Even with the obvious disguises that his mother wore, Harry instantly recognized her by the color of her eyes, which oddly hadn't been changed. No matter that her hair was jet black and short, or that she wore a backwards baseball cap, it was that distinct shade of green that was an exact replica of his own that gave her identity away.
Harry moved around Petunia to get a closer look at the woman. Even with the attempt at concealing her true self, her innate beauty shown through. She held herself so very different from Petunia that it caused Harry to smirk because Lily had this natural grace about her that he always remembered Petunia trying to achieve but never quite being able to master.
As he got closer to Lily, he noticed that she was constantly looking over Petunia's shoulder from where she had a clear vantage point of the entire café.
It showed that his mother was keeping an eye out for someone or something and gave Harry a general sense of the time period that they were in. Clearly, Lily and James must have already gone into hiding, though Harry wasn't sure why his mother would have risked this meeting with her sister. Hadn't she had a reputation as being exceedingly intelligent and hadn't her relationship with her sister grown apart by this time?
Although, he ultimately concluded that she must have made this gamble for old times sake, and he was soon proved right as Lily concentrated on Petunia and began to speak.
"Tuney, thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. My apologies for using magic – but I wanted to make sure that you and only you got my note."
Petunia's nostrils flared ever so briefly at the mention of the M word, but she was able to bite her tongue and inclined her head forward instead.
"To be honest," Lily continued," I wasn't sure that you would meet with me after what James did to Vernon at your wedding. He really can't control himself sometimes when he thinks he can pull off a prank, and he sends his apologies. As do I."
Lily's cheeks flushed and her searching eyes only added to her genuine attempt at an apology on behalf of James.
It was clear from Petunia's wrinkled nose that she almost couldn't believe that she had come either, and made no effort to absolve Lily for what James had done to Vernon.
Petunia had spent far too long trying to get the image of Vernon with donkey ears out of her mind for her to waste a single minute more thinking about it. Instead, she moved the conversation along with her cup of tea held in front of her face.
"What do you want this time, Lily?" She bit out with more force than she had been intending.
However, she didn't regret it and took a quick sip of the hot tea, which didn't help to lessen the building tension between them.
Lily's face fell from the harshness of her sister's words but she pressed on with the reason that she had asked her sister to meet her.
"I want you and your family to come live with us; I'm worried about you and want to know that you are safe."
Again, Lily's eyes flicked around the room, making sure that no one was listening. Or worse.
The request had not been something that Petunia had expected to hear.
"M-my family?" she stumbled out.
"What on earth would make you care about us, normal people?"
Petunia wasn't used to being so frank, but once she had begun her icy response she kept going with even more hurtful remarks.
"Why would my family be in danger, anyways; does this have something to do with that silly little war of yours that you went and got yourself involved in?" she asked dismissively.
It was impossible to miss just how differently Petunia viewed their worlds.
"It affects us all," Lily managed to get out in a hollow voice as she thought of the many friends that she had recently lost.
Not all of them had been magical.
But Lily wasn't the one with the grudge and continued to try and mend the bond that Petunia had all but given up on repairing.
"Something has happened, Tuney. James and I had to go into hiding, and he doesn't even know that I am here."
Her voice was now steadier, as if a part of her knew that this was her final chance to connect with her sister.
This was her last plea.
"I just had to see you, to make sure that you are safe and to keep you safe. We're family, Tuney, before anything else."
Petunia's face softened for an instant before her nose turned upwards once more. There was simply no way that they would be able to live under one roof, and both of them knew it.
Still, Lily pressed on and Harry just had to wonder why his mother continued to bother with someone who really didn't matter or care. Petunia was a horrible person.
"Please, Tuney. Lord Voldemort is coming for us, for Harry, and we enacted a powerful charm to keep him safe. Join us," she pleaded for a final time as Harry found his heart beginning to beat faster.
The conversation suddenly had his full attention.
It was now all but confirmed in his mind that Voldemort had been after him and not his parents from the beginning.
"That is ridiculous," Petunia said while grasping her tea with both hands.
"Why would someone be after an infant?" she shook her head with disdain.
"Dumbledore…" Lily began before Petunia interrupted almost immediately.
"Don't you dare say that name!" her tone was deadly and her eyes had nearly gone black from rage.
"Sorry," Lily sighed, knowing how one of the best days of her life had been the worst one for Petunia.
No matter how much time had passed, that distance between them, because of Hogwarts and magic, would never shorten.
"We know he is after us, after Harry," Lily said quietly with her face looking towards the table.
"I just know he is the target, even if no one will tell us why. Call it a mother's intuition."
Seconds passed as Harry waited with baited breath hoping that there was more; however, the next thing out of Lily's mouth would forever change the way that he viewed the world.
"If you ask me, I think a prophecy has been made. It's the only thing that explains certain people's behavior."
Lily had said that more for herself than Petunia, who had mostly just stopped listening after hearing about a baby being the target of a madman.
This was crazier than some of the sordid novels she read that not even Vernon knew about.
"Rubbish!" she scoffed before draining the last bit of her tea.
She made to leave, snapping Harry out of the epiphany that he had just had. Because he knew in his heart that his mother had been right with her guess. It explained everything too well to not be true – even if it ultimately raised more questions that he now needed answered.
"Goodbye, Lily," Petunia stood, not even looking across the table.
Harry turned his surprised face to catch the crestfallen look of Lily, who knew that this abrupt departure would likely be the final meeting between them.
"Please!" Lily practically shouted, gaining the attention of everyone present.
Petunia froze as she became the unwanted center of attention, before the curious glances of the onlookers drove her to the exit as quickly as her feet could take her.
Harry spent the last few seconds left in the memory looking at his mother's broken face as the images faded and he was forced back into the dining room at Privet Drive.
Harry blinked his eyes as his consciousness returned to his physical body. There was a clarity in his mind now that had come from the revelation that a prophecy had been made.
From the moment that he had heard those words leave his mother's lips he knew that it was true and wondered why he hadn't made the connection for himself. For Harry knew that Divination was a subject at Hogwarts and it offered such an easy explanation for certain events that he couldn't believe he had never considered it, however illogical it might have seemed at the time.
But he couldn't be too hard on himself because while he was quite exceptional in almost every way, he was still twelve and didn't have access to all of the information that would have led him to seriously consider that explanation. It would have been foolish for anyone to make such a rash conclusion based on not knowing all of the particulars.
Of course, now that he was convinced a prophecy had been made, it was easy to guess what it had been about and then even easier to explain the actions of others.
Most likely the prophecy had been about someone being a threat to the Dark Lord, and that he had acted to end that threat by targeting Harry's parents and himself. From there, Dumbledore's letter to Petunia now made sense – even if he didn't know exactly what kind of protections had been laid – and Harry finally understood why the man, no both men, had taken such an interest in his life.
Understandably, there were still some things that Harry didn't know. Like how Dumbledore and Voldemort had come to learn that a prophecy had been made and what the actual words were. Did they both know the entire thing or just that one had been made? Based on Harry's limited knowledge of such things, the wording was very important and often fully understood only after all of the events had come to pass.
At least he now knew where he fit into everything.
The hour grew late as Harry sat there going over what he had just learned in his mind, and his Aunt and Uncle had long since cleared the table and gone to bed.
Ultimately, Harry knew that he there was still more to the story and it was futile to sit there any longer tonight. Hopefully, more of the details would continue to reveal themselves as time went on. That was the only thing he could hope for.
One thing that was certain in his mind as he got up from the table, however, was that he needed to be even more careful at Hogwarts.
Harry's foot had barely touched down upon the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, finally entering the hidden wizarding community from the back of the Leaky Cauldron when Neville's arms encircled around his waist.
"Harry – I missed you," Neville uttered with an intense longing.
Normally the abrupt invasion of his personal space by another person would have resulted in an unconscious and swift retaliation by his magic, but Harry welcomed the embrace without question because it brought with it an end to the feeling of being partially incomplete.
That missing sensation of dominance was no more as Neville's magic mixed and then instantly bowed to Harry's superior might. Harry quickly felt whole, unstoppable, and for a short time forgot about the manipulations of Dumbledore.
And Harry wasn't the only one affected by them being together again; in fact it was quite obvious that their reunion had had a bigger impact on Neville with the brief shiver that caused the other boy's shoulders to shudder several times.
"Neville," was Harry's only response, pulling out of the hug and looking his friend up and down.
To anyone else it would have sounded normal, but both Harry and Neville knew that there was a possessive tone to it, an affectionate one, and their magic hummed along in agreement.
But Neville wasn't the only one that belonged to Harry because Justin soon embraced Harry in the same manner. The addition of his magic, though not as strong as Neville's, still made Harry feel better than he had in months. He may not have understood why these two affected him so or how it had gotten to this point, but they made him feel stronger and more capable and they would never be far from his side if he could help it.
"Hope you had a good summer," Justin said before moving to stand on Harry's left.
"It was very educational," Harry supplied, straightening his shirt while Neville drifted to his right side.
"How so?" Neville inquired.
Together him and Justin were following ever so slightly behind Harry as they made their way closer to where Neville's vulture-loving grandmother and Justin's parents were waiting.
"Let's just say that we are going to be very busy this year," Harry said under his breath as they joined the adults.
He couldn't explain why he had said that to them or even how he had come to the conclusion that he would eventually share some of his secrets with them, only that his magic – and by extent their magic – agreed with it. There was no other option.
It just felt right, and since one of the only things that Harry trusted in this world was his magic he went with it.
Whatever linked them continued to be present and strong while introductions were made before the adults led them to Gringotts. The sensation did gradually lesson in intensity throughout the day as they got their gold and made the first of their purchases for their second year at Hogwarts.
As the day progressed, however, it quickly drifted into the back of their minds, and when the entered Flourish and Blotts their connection had almost been entirely forgotten about.
Except that for Harry, as long as they were close he knew exactly where they were.
Which helped with the obscene amount of people that were crammed into his favorite store.
"Why is this place so packed?" Justin questioned as they dodged a throng of people pushing their way past.
"No idea," Neville answered while noticing that many of the patrons were female and all smiling stupidly in a single direction.
"It's a book signing for an author," Harry said upon glancing at one of the posters.
"Come on, let's go upstairs and wait until it dies down. I think some of our required texts are up there anyways."
Justin and Neville moved to follow Harry, but fate it seemed had other ideas.
Just then, Gilderoy Lockhart made his entrance from the back of the shop to the delight of the majority of the crowd.
"Oh, there he is!" a woman squealed with delight, leading a crowd that blocked their path to the stairs.
Harry was seriously considering using his magic to make the herd part when something happened that hadn't occurred in some time: someone noticed him and thought that it was a big deal.
"It can't be," a handsome voice practically sang, rising above the din of the bookshop.
"Harry Potter!" the same voice cried again.
Immediately, someone grabbed his arm and it wasn't Justin or Neville. Harry's patience was wearing thin as he was jostled through the crowd. The only thing that prevented him from responding with force was the look that both of his friends were giving the reporter from the Daily Prophet.
It was downright chilling, and it soothed Harry's magic.
Harry allowed himself to be led to the focal point of the shop where Gilderoy Lockhart, the man of the hour, quickly wrapped his right arm around Harry's shoulder and presented him to the crowd.
"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart with his unnaturally white teeth already on display.
"Together, you and I are worth the front page."
Moments later, several clicks of the camera flashed before his eyes – and it took every ounce of willpower that he had not to punish those closest to him.
When the bright light of the camera finished, Harry stared out into the crowd trying to find the faces of Neville and Justin to calm him further.
He spotted them standing very close to Ron Weasley, who was among the sea of red hair and freckles that belonged to the whole Weasley brood.
And for some reason that he couldn't explain, Ron Weasley had a very envious expression on his face. Did the idiot really want to trade places with him?
But he didn't have long to fixate on the adoring mass of people who were now looking at him in ways that he had tried for the past year to correct, because the man with his arm draped across his back soon began to make matters even worse.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his smooth voice quieted the crowd.
"What an extraordinary moment this day turned out to be! I do believe it is in fact the perfect opportunity to inform you all of a little something that I arranged in the beginning of the summer."
The crowd was well and truly hanging on Lockhart's every word, and even with how angry Harry was at being the center of attention he had to begrudgingly admit that the man was nothing if not a great orator.
It helped Harry to focus on not unleashing pain on the man; there were far too many witnesses present.
"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he never dreamed of getting anything more than my autograph – which I shall give free of charge!"
Harry could almost hear the perfect smile that the man flashed the crowd as they continued to eat up every word.
"In fact, he could never have dreamt that he would be getting that and so much more – including my complete set or authored works, again free of charge."
The crowd was now ravenous and Harry was struggling to contain his outward appearance. But he willed himself to focus on the larger picture and told himself that even more damage would be done if he didn't act like his Hufflepuff self, trying to shy away from the spotlight.
"But even that," Gilderoy continued, "is nothing compared to what young Harry here and his classmates will be getting come September. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that after much pestering I have consented to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd erupted into a frenzy and with the announcement over Harry was pushed out of the spotlight as Gilderoy basked in the praise of his fans.
His friends were immediately by his side to claim him.
"Are you all right?" Neville seethed as Justin positioned himself to give Harry space from everyone else.
Their connection momentarily intensified as they were standing apart from the crowd, which was now only interested in Gilderoy and his autograph. Though others may have hoped for more than just an autograph.
"Not here," Harry managed to say with a calmer mind, shoving the heavy volume of Lockhart-penned books into his bottomless satchel.
Neville didn't need to hear more and he quickly led Harry towards the front of the store where the exit was.
But again they found that their path had been blocked, and Justin and Neville stood just in front of Harry to separate him from Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley. Apparently, Ron and a smirking Draco Malfoy had been trading words and their parents had needed to intervene.
"Well, well, well – it's Arthur Weasley."
Harry knew at once that it was Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. No one else could be that impeccably dressed, never mind that Draco looked liked a miniature version of him as Lucius stood by his son's side.
However, Harry was more interested in the calculated look that Draco was giving him.
It made him wonder if Draco had witnessed his interaction with their new professor; if anyone had been able to see beneath Harry's exterior it was Draco and Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he had.
After their first year in the castle, Draco was a close third behind Snape and Dumbledore in terms of the people that he was wary of.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that as tensions rose in the bookshop.
"Lucius," Harry heard Ron's father say in a cold and icy manner.
"Busy time at the Ministry for your department; are all those raids really necessary?"
The tall blond was in his element; Lucius could run circles around Arthur.
"Tsk, tsk," Lucius smiled unnervingly.
The older Malfoy reached into what had to be the cauldron of Ron's younger sister and removed a tattered schoolbook.
"All that work and you aren't even getting overtime. Pity." His smile turned predatory.
"Such a disgrace for a wizard," Lucius said, dropping the worn book back into the girl's cauldron.
Arthur responded to Lucius' insult, but Harry didn't hear what the man had said.
Because just then Harry felt something touch his magic and it nearly stopped his heart.
It was so familiar, so comforting that it was like finding a thousand other Nevilles and Justins to add their magic to his. The way his magic reacted to whatever had touched it felt like he was just coming into contact with a part of him that he had been separated from for many years. He had never known that such a feeling was possible or had felt so whole in his entire life; it was exhilarating.
A strong shiver raced throughout his entire body and it reverberated through Justin and Neville as well, who tilted their heads in response to feeling what Harry was feeling.
"What is that?" Justin whispered eagerly, straining his head to try and see anything that could explain the sheer power that they were all currently experiencing racing through their veins.
"I … don't … know," said Harry, struggling to catch his breath.
He was also looking around the room with a hungry look in his eyes, and he began to fear – for the first time in a long while – that he would not find the source of the single-greatest sensation that had ever passed through him.
They began to move through the crowd as the fight between Lucius and Arthur dispersed and each party went their separate way. However, just as it did the feeling went away and Harry nearly stumbled as he was suddenly left feeling woefully incomplete.
"We have to find it!" Harry said in a distressed voice, which caused Neville and Justin to canvas the bookshop with greater speed and determination.
Harry joined in as well, even sending out tendrils of his magic without regard to the consequences of others noticing in the hopes that he recovered that feeling to understand what had just happened.
Despite their efforts, they never felt that sensation again. It was extremely disappointing and Harry could only conclude that it had either been someone or something that had been in and then left Flourish and Blotts.
To top it all off, Harry's scar had begun to ache slightly for the first time in his life; however, he was too distracted to pay it much attention.
"What do we do now?" Neville said, turning to Harry with a look of utter failure in his eyes.
Harry had never felt so weak, but the fierceness of Justin and Neville's loyalty caused their magic to flair up in an attempt to fill this unexpected void.
The added strength managed to refocus him and his magic responded by extending outward to bathe the other two in his considerable might.
Both Neville and Justin shivered again, further making it less and less likely that they would ever abandon Harry as he responded in a commanding voice.
"It's just one more thing that we have to figure out, and we will."
They stood there for a moment before gathering themselves and then went in search of Neville and Justin's families to finish purchasing their schoolbooks. For the rest of the day they were a little down, and were only able to separate and go their separate ways because they would be leaving for Hogwarts in less than a week.
Still, it was more difficult for Harry to separate from them than he had let on; especially after experiencing something so singularly monumental that it had left him reeling. In some ways, he gathered that it felt similar to what life would be like without magic after having known the indescribable joy of using it.
The entire bus ride home he struggled to find any semblance to the person that he had been before venturing into Flourish and Blotts.
As Harry walked back home from the bus stop, he couldn't help but think that the completeness that he had felt in Flourish and Blotts had had something to do with Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the prophecy that had been dominating his thoughts all summer. What else could it have been?
It was just how they were all connected and what this meant for his future and how he would have to act that he had yet to figure out.
"So much to do," Harry sighed upon entering the front door and heading up the stairs.
But everything could wait; right now he just wanted to close his eyes and rest.
He opened the door to his room and moved to fling his bag onto the bed when he realized that he wasn't alone.
With the events of the day already weighing heavily on his mind and the absence of Neville and Justin's calming presence, Harry was not able to think before acting.
Therefore, a tendril of his magic erupted from his center and flew towards the unknown entity sitting on his bed.
Only after he recognized it as a house-elf did his magical flair die down and retreat back into his center, but not before he thought that he remembered feeling a magical signature like this before.
From what he knew about house-elves, their magic was tied to the family that they served. Therefore, if the elf's magic seemed familiar, it could only be because Harry had encountered a member of the family that it served.
Except that his brain wasn't able to place it, it just wasn't distinct enough.
No matter, it still told him something and he stood up to his full height and engaged the elf.
"Hello," Harry said as polite as he could muster given his current temperament.
"Harry Potter!" the elf squeaked after being released from Harry's invisible hold.
"Dobby didn't mean to frighten you, sir," the elf bowed down.
"Harry Potter is indeed a powerful wizard," the elf continued with his nose on Harry's comforter.
In that moment Harry was mainly concerned that the elf would reveal what he was capable of to this unknown family of his, and he sought to do as much damage control as possible.
"Dobby, you say? I am sorry if I startled you. My magic sometimes has a mind of its own when I am caught off guard. I suppose it is a self-defense mechanism or something. I'm sure all wizards have it."
He paused and then looked at the elf with warm eyes.
"Are you okay?"
Harry reinforced his gentle disposition and moved towards the elf, but the widening of the elf's already giant eyes made him stop.
"Harry Potter is even greater than Dobby has heard. Apologizing to me, a house-elf?"
Large tears started to form in Dobby's eyes and Harry could only close his own eyes and sigh. He should have seen this coming; he went too far.
"Never mind, Dobby, is there a reason that you are here?"
Harry moved to prevent the elf from prostrating itself in front of him.
"How were you able to get in here anyways? From what I know about house-elves, you are bound to your master's home, correct? I wonder how you were able to get into another wizard's home without permission. Or am I missing something here?"
It was calculated on Harry's part, but he did wonder if Privet Drive had wards and if anyone or anything could cross them. Just because he couldn't feel anything around the house didn't mean that it didn't exist.
"Harry Potter is very wise to know of such things, and he is correct. Normally, house-elves cannot enter another wizard's home except without explicit permission. However, in this case, it isn't technically a wizard's home; though, there is something different about this place. Something that Dobby cannot put his finger on."
The elf looked genuine and so Harry took him as his word.
"But Harry Potter doesn't have to worry. Dobby would never betray him, sir. Dobby could never betray the wizard who ended the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Terrible times those were."
The elf shuddered, and Harry had to fight to not role his eyes. He had heard enough about the Dark Lord this summer.
Harry took a deep breath and moved to change the direction of the conversation.
"I guess it's because this is my Aunt's home," he said steering clear of Dobby's confirmation that there was indeed some form of protection in place.
"Now, is there a reason for your visit?"
The elf hobbled off the bed and came to stand before him with his ears drooped low.
"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter. Terrible things are to happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. You must not return!"
Dobby's eyes were pleading with him while he considered the elf's statement. Something told him that this was connected to whatever he had just felt in Flourish and Blotts. It would have been a very odd coincidence for them to not be related.
"Dobby, I'm a wizard; I have to continue my schooling."
Harry said the next part carefully.
"Though, do you know what will happen?"
Dobby's posture immediately grew uncomfortable as the magic that binded him to his master prevented him from speaking the secrets of the family that he served.
The elf clutched his throat and shook his head, making an awful lot of noise in the process.
"It's all right," Harry lied soothingly.
"I take it that you can't tell me because your master bid you not to?"
The internal struggle of the elf ended and he was able to nod.
Harry sighed, really not in the mood for any of this. He had just wanted to come home and sleep. It was literally one thing after another.
Eventually though, there had been enough back and forth interaction and answering of questions between them that Harry was able to discern that Voldemort – in some way, shape, or form – was the one who would be responsible for the upcoming calamity.
Of course, it had been difficult to extract even that from the elf who fought him at every turn because of the bond. In the end though, Dobby wasn't able to convince Harry not to attend, but did make the boy promise to be careful and to leave at the first sign of trouble.
Not a magical promise, however.
It was clear that even though the elf was bound to someone else that he viewed Harry Potter in much higher regards.
Dobby even went so far as to pledge himself to him as long as it didn't go against any specific orders that his other family gave him.
All in all, it was simply one more thing for Harry to think about as the elf left and he was finally able to get to sleep.
That took longer to get out than I had hoped, but I am quite happy with how the story is progressing. Harry got to have his first glimpse of Tom and found out all sorts of things that he shouldn't have. Take that Dumbledore!
I have always wanted to see what a better-equipped Harry was capable of and now we will find out. Hope you stick around to see what second year and on will bring and thank you all for taking the time to read, comment, or follow. Much appreciated.
Let me know your thoughts.