Prologue
A/N: This is an experimental story where I hope to mix the wizarding world with SCP and Lovecraftian elements. Let me know in the comments if you'd like to read more and if there are any cool SCPs that will work well in a HP universe.
August 3, 1987
Harry Potter was a topic of taboo at St. Francis' Orphanage as Minerva McGonagall had soon learned. When she brought him up in conversation, she received looks ranging from suspicion to abject fear. In fact, only one sister was willing to say anything about the boy.
July 19, 1986 - a date that lived in infamy for the inhabitants at the orphanage. Minerva was able to piece together the gist of the story. Something inexplicable, and likely frightening, had occurred on that dreaded summer evening in Northamptonshire county almost one year to date. But what was Harry Potter's role in the event? She wanted to ask the sister but had been ushered into Father Wesley's office before she got the chance.
Minerva politely declined the offer of Earl Grey and biscuits, taking a seat as she casually scanned her surroundings. The office was furnished with nothing more than a simple bookshelf, a desk, and a large white cross framing the back wall. Father Wesley dressed in accordance with his office decor - a cleanly pressed black cassock and a white clerical collar. The only accessory he wore was a pair of spectacles that vaguely reminded Minerva of Albus.
Father Wesley cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses to examine the enchanted document in front of him. "I'll be frank. I wasn't aware the Potters had made plans for the boy's education. Am I to believe he is eligible to attend Hogwarts at no additional cost to the orphanage?"
Minerva straightened her unfashionably long robes, responding, "With the exception of summers, and winters if Mr. Potter so chooses. He shall live and study at Hogwarts until the end of his seventh year."
The father stroked his beard in thought. He took a sip of tea. She could tell he was thinking very carefully about his reply.
"I must warn you, Mrs…"
"McGonagall," Minerva supplied.
"Mrs. McGonagall, Mr. Potter isn't like the other boys."
"I should certainly hope not. At Hogwarts, we accept only the most gifted students," Minerva replied with her brow raised in amusement.
Father Wesley attempted a weak smile. "Don't get me wrong. Mr. Potter is a bright child, one of the best I daresay. It's just that Mr. Potter is what you might call 'peculiar'." He put emphasis on the last word. "There was an incident a year ago. Have you heard anything from the sisters?" For a second, a trace of fear flitted across his aged face.
"I've heard a little," Minerva admitted, "but I'd be happy if you could elaborate."
Father Wesley's smile turned lopsided. He leaned back, steepling his fingers. After an awkward moment of pause, Father Wesley began to recount the story.
It all went back to July 19, 1986.
Before the incident on that fateful Saturday, Harry was by all accounts a happy-go-lucky boy, always dreaming of the vast world beyond the walls of the orphanage. When he wasn't playing with the other children or attending to his studies, Harry could be found helping the old caretaker, Mr. Fibbet, manage the thorny shrubs and pesky weeds that pervaded the estate. In Father Wesley's own words, Harry was a respectable youngster with a bright future ahead of him.
But then everything changed on that summer evening. It was a strange day as the sisters would recall, full of wailing, gloomy yet rainless clouds, and thunder. At approximately half past seven, Sister Marybell, who had been praying in the chapel at the time, heard a commotion originating from the foyer. Rushing to the source of the disturbance, she chanced upon young Harry's lifeless body sprawled at the base of the main stairs. On her account, there was bleeding from the boy's orifices - eyes, ears, and such - and no pulse.
The sister's scream alerted Father Wesley and the others, who arrived shortly after only to witness Harry suspended in the air like a marionette on strings. Then, beyond all reason, the allegedly dead boy opened his eyes. It was Father Wesley who was the first to collect his wits, uttering every bible verse known to man in a feeble attempt to ward off the evils at present.
The traumatizing event caused no small consternation among the staff, half of whom resigned from the orphanage the next day. Sister Marybell had checked herself into a psychiatric ward six months later.
At this point in the story, Father Wesley took another sip of tea to calm his nerves. Minerva found the unsettled look in his eyes disturbing, and she reached unconsciously for her hidden wand.
"I know you may not believe my story. I surely wouldn't if I were you, but nonetheless I felt it was my obligation to give you the unvarnished truth."
Minerva swallowed. "I appreciate your forthcoming. Is the boy doing well?"
"The boy's in perfect health. After the Vatican specialists performed a sanctioned exorcism, we've had no unholy occurrences since. Those of us who remained at the orphanage have moved on," Father Wesley added rather proudly.
Minerva worked through the implications. Harry's levitating act could easily be explained by a bout of uncontrolled magic. Resurrection from the dead, on the other hand, was a different matter. Minerva decided that Sister Marybell may have exaggerated Harry's condition. Raised from the dead? How preposterous, even for wizarding standards.
"With your permission, I'd like to see the boy for myself," she finally requested.
If the father was impressed by Minerva's composure up to this point, he didn't show. Agreeing, the man led Minerva towards the east dormitory, a more dilapidated part of the estate. Old wall paint tore away at the edges, and the chipped oak floor creaked with every step. Apparently, rumors of the incident had gotten out, causing undue panic among the children. Father Wesley had to reassign the younger orphans to the west dormitory, away from Harry. Only a handful of older boys and Harry remained in the east wing.
They approached the boy's room, and the first thing Minerva noticed was a dozen crucifixes haphazardly nailed against the door. Contrary to the father's assurances, not all the staff had moved on.
"Harry, may I come in?" Father Wesley asked, knocking gently.
"Yes," a youthful voice answered. They entered and were greeted with the sight of a dull and unremarkable room.
Similar to Father Wesley's office, Harry's room was arranged with an utilitarian purpose in mind - a bed, desk, and drawer. Minerva was disappointed to see a lack of personalization in the boy's quarters; even a poster or a toy would have sufficed.
The boy stood in the far corner of the room, hands behind his back, with a pensive look that seemed far beyond his years. His emerald eyes, which reminded Minerva of Lily Potter, gleamed with alertness. Harry's dark messy hair was inherited from James. He looked like a spitting image of his father but without James' glasses. The sight of Harry suddenly caused Minerva to feel a pang in her heart. James and Lily had been snuffed in their prime. The fact that the death eaters who raided the Potter Mansion had been caught and sent to Azkaban offered no consolation for the loss of her two former pupils.
"Harry, allow me to introduce Mrs. McGonagall, the deputy headmaster at the Hogwarts Preparatory School for the Gifted. She's here to offer you enrollment," explained Father Wesley.
"It's a pleasure, Mrs. McGonagall," Harry spoke with as much gravitas as an eleven-year-old could muster.
"The pleasure's mine, Mr. Potter," responded Minerva, noticing a trace of recognition in Harry's eyes. Strange, she thought as she turned to the priest. "Might I have a word with Mr. Potter in private, father?"
"Yes, of course. I'll leave the two of you be," the priest replied before giving the boy a nod. "Harry, I trust you to be on your best behavior."
Once they were alone, the unnaturally calm boy gestured at a chair for McGonagall to sit while he took a seat on his bed. Clasping his hands, he asked, "so how can I help you, Mrs. McGonagall?"
Hoping to lighten the mood in the rather dour room, Minerva gave Harry one of her rare smiles.
"Mr. Potter, I would like to offer a chance to broaden your future..."