Chapter Five: A Rather Enlightening Car Journey
James rolled his window down, as Lily gave him something that remotely resembled a smile and notioned towards Harry to come boy gingerly grasped at the handle of the car as he opened it and let himself in, settling comfortably on the squishy leather seats, for all his attempts to compose himself in an orderly manner. At least his back would not be subjected to any further discomfort.
Harry found himself sinking in on the seat ever so slightly, secretly delighted. He'd never sat in the seat of a car before; Uncle Vernon made him walk to school, muttering something about delinquents in way of explanation, and, in rare situations where he was forced to travel by car, he was eloquently crammed into the boot. Harry was morbidly curious as to whether his Uncle simply didn't want to be stuck with him in such close quarters, or if Dudley spanned the whole of the two back seats.
As Lily pressed the keys in and started the car, Harry rather nervously asked, in an attempt to get some answers: "So, what can you tell me about Hogwarts? I mean, I didn't really know I was a wizard 'till yesterday when I got my letter. Well, um, actually I didn't even know you were alive 'till I saw you guys today, and U-Uncle Vernon," Harry subconsciously shivered as he said his name, a fact which went unnoticed by the Potters; Lily because she was focused on driving and James because he was just obtrusive, "Said something about a, er, ...brother?" Harry trailed off, knowing that he'd asked way too many questions at once and half expecting to be reprimanded in the form of a fist or a frying pan to the head.
James gave his custom jovial expression, something Harry was coming to associate him with; his constantly cheerful demeanor beginning to creep Harry out.
The man launched into a fevered, enthusiastic explanation. "All great questions, kid, though you might wanna slow down a bit. Let me start off with Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school of magic, for wizards, which is what you are. Your Aunt and Uncle didn't tell you because they didn't know you'd be one; neither did we for that matter. No one expected it, not us or Dumbledore. Great man, by the way, Albus Dumbledore is, great man, he's the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Anyway, Hogwarts is this great big castle, best years of m' life there. You'll learn all sorts; Transfiguration, Charms," James scrunched his nose in clear disgust, "Potions."
Most of these words were foreign to Harry, at least in the context of magic- he assumed that they were different branches of magic. He decided that he would read up on everything there was to know about the different aspects of magic as soon as he could, assuming there were books on the subjects, which he supposed there were, since it wouldn't really make sense for a subject to be taught without textbooks; then again, he knew that there was very little he could be certain about in this new world. He also resolved to educate himself on this Potions (which sounded a little self explanatory, but then again, he couldn't be sure), seeing as it was an obvious weakness of James Potter.
James, oblivious to Harry's thoughts, carried on, and Harry listened closely, unwilling to interrupt him, and to miss anything from the impromptu lecture, " It's divided into four Houses: Gryffindor is the House of courage, and for super brave people. It's where me and Lily and all the Potters before us where sorted. The best, most prominent figures, are Gryffindors. Then there's the other Houses," privately, Harry thought that this dismissal of the "other Houses" was rather conceited, "Ravenclaw, which is for the bookworms, Slytherin," Harry duly noted the contempt that the name was spat out with. Interesting. "Which is supposedly the 'House of Cunning' " He punctuated the words "House of Cunning" with quotation marks made with his fingers, "But really it's where all the evil witches and wizards go."
Lily, who had stopped at a red light, took that moment to glare at James. "James!" She hissed, not for the first time that day, "You know that's not true!"
James raised an eyebrow at her, "Really?" he questioned, "What about Snivellus, huh, you-"
Lily interrupted him, as she spoke with a frustration that showed that she had had this exact conversation many a time before, "You know he apologised! Besides, that was ages ago, we're colleagues now, older, and you're no longer silly schoolyard rivals, so don't be ridiculous."
The red light turned amber, then green, which caused Lily to continue driving.
James coughed lightly, pointedly choosing not to reply to his wife. Harry didn't know what to make of it, only that his father was prejudice towards the House of Slytherin, and that he had some sort of agenda against this "Snivellus" (which Harry chose to assume was a nickname, since he couldn't believe that someone would have such an unfortunate name) character, and that said man worked alongside Lily.
The man carried on explaining to Harry, as though he hadn't been interrupted in the first place. "Yes, well, Harry, Slytherin is where You-Know-Who came from," catching sight of Harry's confused expression, he amended, "Well, I suppose you don't know who...I'll explain that to you later. Oh, and there's Hufflepuff, I guess. People say it's where the hardworking and loyal go, but really it's for people who don't fit into the other Houses."
Lily lifted a hand from the steering wheel to swat at her husband's shoulder rather half heartedly, choosing not to verbally state her disagreement.
"What? You know it's true, Lils', the hat said so itself!" Lily sniffed at the comment, not replying, which caused James to grin harder, if that were possible.
"So, anyway, Harry, that's pretty much the run of Hogwarts, you'll learn the rest later. As to why we didn't contact you all these years, well, that goes hand in hand with your brother, Liam," curiously to Harry, James's eyes lit up behind his glasses at the mention of Liam, and something in Lilys shoulders seemed to relax. Then, James smile dropped as he grimly began to explain:
"So basically there was this Dark Lord," Harry vaguely remembered his conversation with Vernon before his "goodbye present" (recalling his Uncle made his bones sting in phantom pain...and the bruises sting in actual pain, for it had taken a great deal of energy to heal the breaks- if Harry had healed the bruises and cuts, too, he'd've passed out which, granted, wouldn't make much of a positive impression), which was quite fuzzy, where he had mentioned a Dark Lord bloke,
"Mind you, only Death Eaters, which is the name given to were his followers, call him that. Most people call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who, because of a taboo that was placed on his name during the war."
Harry sat up straighter in his seat; James obviously was not talking about World War Two.
"Anway, You-Know-Who was dead set on making sure that all the muggleborn, which refers to wizards who have non-magical parents, and muggles, which are just non magical people, were killed. He thought that wizards should rule over everyone, and that muggleborns weren't proper wizards and that they were inferior to purebloods, which're wizards who have at the very least, grandparents who were magical. He only just tolerated half-bloods, which, like the title suggests, are wizards who had either muggleborn parents, or who were the child of a muggle and a wizard. Anyway, the problem was that You-Know-Who was an extremely powerful wizard, and he had lots of Death Eaters at hand. He gave no regard for the Statue of Secrecy, which is something the wizard government uses to make sure muggles don't find out about us-"
Harry didn't need to ask why, as the Dursleys screaming "Freak!" and beating him harshly after his unintentional displays of magic, when he was younger, and had less control, came to mind,
"-And was all for torturing and killing the muggles and muggleborns, and even purebloods and halfbloods who didn't follow him, or agree with his ideologies."
James shivered, his gaze distant. "It was a horrible time. You didn't know who you could trust, and even those who you could trust could be under the Imperius."
"What's that?" Harry asked, the first time he had spoken in a while.
James looked slightly surprised, but not really all that annoyed, "The imperius curse is used to control whoever's under it. There are only a small percentage of wizards who are naturally resistant to it. So, y'see it was a real dark time. Me 'nd Lily, along with a few other trusted wizards and witches, worked in a, um," James bit his lip, brows slightly furrowed, as he carried on, "a secret organisation, led by Dumbledore, who was probably the only wizard You-Know-Who ever really feared. And that's where your twin brother, Liam, comes in. Dumbledore had gotten information that You-Know-Who was targeting us because…"
Lily, who was listening in on the conversation, shook her head slightly, deciding that James shouldn't mention the prophecy so openly, especially to a ten-year old. After all, the fewer people who knew, the better, and they hadn't even informed Liam that the prophecy existed, and he was a part of it!
"He wanted revenge on us."
Harry noticed that James was withholding information but chose not to comment; after all, he was used to such treatment and knew that it wasn't so simple. Still, the child couldn't help but feel slightly spiteful that James did not trust him.
The older man carried on, feeling assured by his wife that he had done the right thing, "So, you, me, Lily and Liam hid in a safe house in Godric's Hollow...We certain it was safe, but, like I said, you didn't know who you could trust, and we were betrayed by someone who we thought was a friend."
James seemed to become angry at the mention of this "friend," and had to pause for a second before he carried on, more calmly this time; Harry listened with bated breath as he finally got answers as to why he'd been tossed aside like scrap rubbish "We weren't there. We'd left you and Liam alone with the traitor, when You-Know-Who came to personally kill the pair of you. He took out his wand,"
Huh. James had somehow failed to mention beforehand that wizards used wands as a medium for magic. That answered fewer questions than it raised.
"And used it to cast a Killing Curse at your brother, which, the thing is, no one has ever survived before. Ever. So, your brother was left alive, and somehow it was flung back at You-Know-Who, and he was, well, no-one really knows what actually happened to him, though most people think he died," James's skeptical tone told Harry that he was not included in 'most people.' "But, whatever happened to him, he was gone. Liam was left with a scar on his forehead as a result,"
Harry flattened his fringe self consciously over his own lightning bolt scar, a gesture which went unnoticed by James. He wondered where he'd got it from; perhaps he really had been in a car-crash. Regardless, even if he didn't have to fight an evil wizard to get it, Harry quite liked his scar; in fact, other than his eyes, it was the only thing he truly savoured about his appearance, even though his Aunt often told him how awful it looked, which led to him actively covering it save for when he was in private.
But Harry found himself doubting his previous theories, a repressed memory fighting it's way forward. How peculiar. He furrowed his brow, feeling the beginning of a migraine.
"It looks a bit like a crescent moon; it's the same as the wand movements for the curse. After You-Know-Who disappeared, the whole house crumbled down, and Liam only just managed to shield the both of you."
Well, that was all well and nice, but it didn't tell Harry much about why they'd decided to abandon him. Truth be told, he was rather...iffy about the whole thing. It sounded more like a fairy tale than anything, but then again, it was magic after all, so perhaps this sort of scenario occurred often? Yet, even in a world of wizards and witches and Dark Lords and magical castles, the story of a baby who could not even walk yet defeating a war tyrant seemed rather far-fetched. Perhaps Harry was just jealous of how James talked about Liam, sounding so proud of him.
His oncoming headache did not make Harry less introspective; rather, it only seemed to egg his suspicions on, teasing him with something, something that would make the picture click into place, whispered his instincts.
But what? What could he remember (or rather forget) about something so important, something that had shaped the past decade?
James mistook his lack of comment for awe rather than doubt. He chuckled as his voice took on a rather wistful tone. "Amazing, isn't it?" He marveled.
Harry hesitated, not wanting to sound rude, but needing answers.
"Yes, of course...But...W-Why did you leave me?"
He sounded whiny, and he hated how uncertain his voice was, feeling awfully exposed. He clasped his hands tightly from where he sat stiffly in his seat, in an attempt to stop them shaking. He felt rather pathetic; the little pride he had, was placed in his ability to conceal his emotions, for his age, at least; he wasn't that presumptuous- he was tearing apart at the seams just because of two practical strangers! Sure, there was more to it than that, yet that was what it was in essence.
James Potter paused, frowning inwardly. Just how did one go about telling a child that they simply were not wanted?
Thankfully, before Harry could comment on the rather self explanatory silence, Lily decided to answer the question, slowing down the car slightly so she could concentrate fully on her answer.
She sighed heavily.
"Harry," she began softly, almost pleadingly. "It...It wasn't as easy as that. It- We, well, Albus, examined the both of you after the attack. You'd shown very, very low levels of magic. We thought you'd end up a squib," when she didn't elaborate further on the term, Harry drew his own conclusion.
"And with your brother being raised as The-Boy-Who-Lived," this, she did expand on,
"Which is what they'd started calling him...Well, we were just doing what we thought best. Can you imagine? Being raised as the non-magical twin to such a prominent figure? Being surrounded by wizards and being unable to perform even the simplest of spells? Honestly, no-one was more surprised than the two of us when you got your letter, and I have to say I truly am sorry that you thought we were dead. But you have us now, we have each other, and that's the most important part, right?" She sounded desperate, sincere.
Yet, if Harry had looked up from where his gaze was fixedly lowered, he would see her features reflected in the car mirror, completely uncaring.
For, truthfully, Lily Potter had no such desire to "repair the bond" with their other son, as Albus had suggested with those oh-so-kind twinkling eyes. Liam, with his fame and power and natural charms, talent and good looks, was all she could ever want in a child.
Of course, she had to put up pretences, for it would do no good if someone found out that she had abandoned a child, especially the twin brother of the Boy-Who-Lived. She could do this much, at least: act as if she cared, give him food, money, and a roof over his head, to prevent too many questions being asked. Undoubtedly, her husband was thinking along a similar, if not the same, vein.
Harry still felt as if there was something...off about the whole situation, and he certainly felt less than certain about this "Albus Dumbledore" person, for all he seemed to be revered, it would be quite a careless mistake to make.
Though, this did make Harry curious: was he a weak wizard? If so, he shuddered to think how powerful He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been, which reminded Harry to see if he could find out his actual name.
Despite how much Harry doubted nearly everything concerning the situation, he was still, at the end of the day, a lonely, abused ten-year-old boy who was desperately craving acceptance. He, despite his reservations, wanted it to be the truth.
So he gave a soft "Um, yeah," back, because he would be damned if he were the one to mess this up; the one chance that Harry had to have a real family and to study magic, of all things! Because deep down, even if he knew that there was more to it, he just wanted to pretend, for God's sake, he deserved that much.
The rest of the journey was served in relative silence, not the comfortable kind, but the sort that was charged with high strung emotions and unspoken words, promises and threats that Harry tried to make sense of but couldn't for the life of him.
He tried, tried to think of anything to fill the gaping hole that threatened to consume him, but it was for naught, as Harry had already asked his questions, and he'd gotten his answers; answers which he wasn't quite whether he'd wanted.
He wasn't too sure how he felt about the whole thing, but, hey; he had the whole car journey to brood, because as much as Harry wanted to speak to his parents, he had nothing to say. And, of course, Harry wasn't exactly what you'd call well versed in the art of light conversation, and so the boy found himself in an odd sort of limbo, too anxious to delve into a conversation of significance, but craving it all the same.
At only one point during the four hour car ride was the silence broken, and Harry felt awkward as hell, but he needed to know.
"What colour is the Killing Curse?"
He barely stuttered, having spent the better part of an hour working up the courage, for he wasn't used to asking questions so freely with adults. At least they were driving, and so it would be relatively difficult for them to harm him, and dear God, he needed to stop thinking like this, not everyone was the flippin' Dursleys, but then again old habits die hard and he hadn't even been parted from them for a day, so he decided he would humor himself for just a little while longer.
It was James who answered.
"Green, the incantation is Avada Kedavra, in case you wondering. Just don't try to cast it."
He laughed at his own joke, though it was a rather forced, strangled sound, on par with the joke itself.
Lily said: "Why do you ask?" and though she tried to sound warm, it still came off as calculative.
Harry shrugged, knowing they'd be able to see him through the mirrors. "No reason." he replied, making sure that he didn't reply too quickly and trying to sound nonchalant, his face the picture of innocence. It seemed to work for the most part, James looking less suspicious of him when he commented, "If you say so."
Harry's heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he tried to look inconspicuous as he tried to let everything sink in...honestly, it wasn't even twelve PM and he'd already had several life changing realisations. It didn't even occur to him to be offended at the Potters hostility, such was the gravity of the epiphany.
A high pitched laugh...Green light...Avada Kedavra...A blinding pain in his forehead..hurthurthurt, Oh God, It HURT!...Collapsing rubble…Nothing, blackness….
The conversation had seemed to awaken something inside him, something that had been, before this, deeply buried within the throes of his mind.
How could he have forgotten?
The same inexplicable nightmare over and over again on the rare occasions that his nights were not haunted by ghostly images of Vernon Dursley...Only they weren't nightmares; they-they were memories.
Because as far-fetched, as ridiculous as it may seem, by some cruel twist of Fate, Harry James Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived.
And like hell he'd ever let anyone find out.
