9th of November 1981
He walked through the silent streets of Godric's Hollow, hands lost in constricting jack pockets.
The soft repetitive sounds of the light drizzling rain felt like a sullen melody with a metronome of consistency, something that never once faltered from the rhythmic drops and beats that it rang around him.
And it seemed to make an ironic mockery of why he was here, for those whose metronome had ceased, cut down before their time was up at the hands of mindless zealotry and pointless insanity, borne out of a broken society that refuses to be fixed.
He continued onto his morose evening procession, towards the daunting cemetery that lay just ahead where it seemed the silence that had consumed the town did not touch the cemetery.
Guards – Aurors – hung around, their dark red robes seemed to be especially darker in this evening light.
"Halt" one of them ordered, his harsh voice offered no leeway.
"I'm here to see the Potters" he said to them, one of his hands slowly exiting his jacket pocket.
"Yeh, well there's a queue. Lot o' people who want t'same. Go 'ome." The Auror said, his voice now far more threatening.
"I'm family" he said calmly despite the aggressive stance of the Auror.
The Auror scoffed "Pull t'other one. There's only two of 'em left and the other's a toddler and the other 'ere" The auror now pulled out his wand though hadn't quiet pointed at him.
His eyes narrowed at the slight. It seemed like they're already forgotten him, consigning him to irrelevance and unimportance.
It was to be expected of these fickle, irrational people. They cared naught of those they considered not like them. Even those who supposedly fought against the purist beliefs were not free from the poisonous beliefs that partly instigated the war.
He had not the time, the patience or the inclination to cater to the whims of fools, uncaring that things were still tense in the wake of the aggressiveness exuded by the Auror.
He shifted slightly, his left hand now completely free as his eyes narrowed minutely. His fingers twitched as the tip of the Auror's wand began to climb, his eyes watching, tracking every slight movement of the man's body.
"If yer here to try something fu-" the growl of the irritating Auror was cut short by the interjection by someone else.
"Hold." He heard her say as she quickly walked over. Her drenched visage did little to dispel the familiar sight.
"Jones" he said with a curious nod. It seemed he hadn't been so foolish after all if one of them was here despite his dislike of the vigilante group.
"Hohenheim." Jones said grudgingly, a name that the Aurors recognised. Not many didn't these days. She turned to the Aurors "It's alright, he's fine to let through. He's…he's expecting him."
He continued on, walking past the Aurors who had earlier all but wished to cut him down where he stood.
Quickened steps walked after him until she was locked step with him. He eyed her for a brief moment but said nothing as they walked onto the path, passing tombstone after tombstone.
"He's not been…well." She said delicately and he spared her a single glance, one that said all he wished to say to her.
She grimaced and grimly nodded "No one really would be in his situation but he's been standing there for almost twelve hours now. He…He needs to get home. Even the mangy mutt came by and could do nothing to get him go home to his son."
The idiot had said as much when he'd gone to see him and the youngest Potter.
If that idiot couldn't get through to him…
He saw a figure standing in the distance, head seemingly cast down.
He turned to her, his eyes meeting her gaze impassively "I'll see what I can do" he told her and it seemed to be enough as she nodded and soon left him all alone to walk towards the figure in the distance.
He observed him carefully, his body eerily still, shoulders were slumped, defeated and broken, hair wet and soiled by the persistent rain and ran messily across his face.
Loss…loss was never easy to deal with. Not when it happened the way it did…not when you survived and they didn't.
And not when blinding hatred beyond any reason set out to hurt you even more out of spite and vengeance.
He arrived by the side of the figure, staring at the tombstones that were laid side by side.
Lily Marie Potter nee Evans
b. 30th of January 1960
d. 31st of October 1981
Euphemia Hypathia Potter nee Pyrites
b. 16th of March 1894
d. 31st of October 1981
He looked to the other side of Euphemia's tombstone.
Fleamont Henry Potter
b. 2nd of August 1891
d. 3rd of November 1981
"The war was meant to be over" he said, his voice raspy and grating, as if had been unused for years.
"They all celebrated like it was anyway" he said in a biting, bitter laugh, one that was diametrically opposite to his familiar frequent laughter.
"But not to them, never to them" the venom in his voice, the silent fury that roused from his body seemed to wake him from his self-loathing slumber as he looked to him, his eyes red and sunken, his velvet brown eyes behind glasses with islands of small rain droplets held a deep hatred as their gaze met.
It didn't suit him, this…hatred that seemed to consume him whole.
"James…" he began but James cut him off.
"The noseless bastard already took mother, sweet Lily and…" James' breathing hitched, suffocating on overwhelming grief. He remained silent, allowing James to process, his own grief for two people who he'd cherished was silent and quiet, bottled.
James let out a shuddering breath as he continued "There was no reason for them to go after father days later"
His eyes darkened before he looked away, his eyes growing distant as his thoughts momentarily became lost. "Hatred rarely needs much prompting" he said quietly, nightmares and memories of acts made out of desperate hatred, destructive vindictiveness playing out in an unholy reel in his mind.
They fell into a silence, one where each of mourned in their own way. He had not regretted remaining unattached to this conflict, his own endeavours and interests never coincided in taking part of a civil war that he'd seen as meaningless, not until now.
But would it have changed anything? To partake in a pointless conflict that meant nothing to him, a conflict that was happening in but a small part of the world that he didn't care for?
The uneasy feeling grew in the wake of his presence by their headstones.
"To be cured of Advanced Dragon Pox, to survive the noseless bastard's attack only to be struck down in St. Mungos where he was supposed to be protected by a cowardly nameless death eater" James' body trembled where he stood, grief and rage etched on his face.
James' body stopped trembling as he placed a hand on his shoulder, an act foreign to both of them.
"I'm sorry I had them buried before you could get back." James said after a moment of silence. "I know you loved them…in your own way"
He hummed, almost silently as he drove down the feelings of being slighted before he spoke up "It's alright. They were your parents"
James turned to him "They might not have been your parents, they might not even been related to you but they loved you as close as a nephew anyway." He said soberly.
He allowed a small smile to come across his face "Dorea wouldn't have stood for anything less"
James allowed a wet laugh before it petered out, before James remembered what he always remembered. "Merlin, we've lost so much" he said quietly, sober grief tinging his voice.
He only hummed softly in agreement. 'Some more than others' though his own loss weighed just as much as it ever did.
A slight tick on his face marked all of his old grief to a woman he loved more he'd ever loved anyone. Even himself. Her death always was at the edges of his mind, a failure that would never dissipate away from his conscience.
It was no solace that no other died like she died ever again. He'd sacrifice them all just so that she could live.
"James, Charles needs you home." He spoke up, breaking the silence and James closed his eyes guiltily for a pained moment.
"I-I…I know…I just needed one last moment." James said as he sucked in a breath and nodded to himself, seemingly steeling himself to go back to his son.
Son…
"Speaking of Charles" he began, his eyes boring into the still expression of James "Where is Harry?" he asked, his voice calm but his eyes intense, waiting on an explanation to what happened to the green eyed toddler.
When he'd been told that Voldemort had been defeated by the Potters after their location had been betrayed due to one Peter Pettigrew, by the hands of Charles, The-Boy-Who-Lived, there but nothing but a single line in the papers spared for Harry, that Charles' twin suffered from a 'broken core' and tragically was no longer capable of magic.
Euphemia died attempting to buy time for the young married couple to get out with the children whilst Flea was grievously injured before injuring James as well. Lily died according to the mutt in front of her children before Voldemort brought his wand to bear against the children which had been his fatal mistake.
"He is safe" James said, all hints of grief lost as his tone hardened.
"Yet he isn't at his ancestral home, with his twin and the mutt." He pressed, his eyes unrelenting as he stared down at James.
"What is this…nonsense that his core exploded?" He asked with narrowed eyes.
James' firmness broke for a moment as he slumped into himself, tiredness seeming to overcome him. "It's…it's true. The backlash of Li-" he closed his eyes again, nearly choking with grief "Lily's sacrifice" he bit out with bitterness and something else mixed in there
"Made it so that both children could survive but the backlash of the magic and the killing curse" he drew in a deep breath "was too severe for Harry's infant core to handle" he said almost emotionlessly "It was a miracle that Charles survived what happened that night, not just against the killing curse, with nothing but a scar and his magic intact"
His mind whirled as he thought on what James said. What did Lily do?
The papers talked about Charles deflecting the killing curse but it was nonsense. No, it was something Lily did.
Everything to do with Sacrifice has intent behind it and this was made it so powerful. Rituals used sacrifice to enrich, empower or restore one thing or another. The sacrificed object, living or dead, fauna or flora, would provide the energy and the meaning behind the rituals intent.
It was why he was certain there were deeper meanings behind Lily's sacrifice, something he suspected James also knew but was not keen on providing. At least not now.
For Lily's sacrifice to provide the energy necessary to deflect the killing curse away from the children, it would have meant that she willingly offered her own life in return for theirs, a binding with meaning that was as old anything in human existence.
A life for a life.
Remarkably simplistic but he suspected devilishly difficult to ritualise.
In all of his time in Egypt, he had not come across rituals that offered a life for a life that could protect against destructive Soul Magic like the killing curse.
His mind snapped back to the present, his thoughts on what Lily may have done sent to the back of his mind.
"A healer confirmed it?" he asked with a fixed gaze on James who nodded tightly.
"Yes and Dumbledore has as well" James said tiredly "There is nothing we can do for him." James said bitterly.
He wasn't so sure about that. Oh it was likely the child could have lost his access to magic but permanently?
There was much about magic that was unknown, more knowledge was lost than there was known now. Much of it was lost in the rise and fall of ancient civilisations, much of it destroyed and banned as families and peoples were destroyed near root and stem by other magicals…and non magicals.
There was likely something out there, a remnant, something, to help the boy fix his magic but he had a more immediate concern.
He eyed James intently "Doesn't explain why he isn't with his brother"
James met his gaze with hardened eyes "They killed my father in St. Mungos, someone who had not fought once against them." He said with a hard tone, the insinuation clear in his words.
"And you can't protect him with his twin?" he asked James, his eyes narrowing. "If that is the case then you shouldn't be raising Charles either."
James drew himself up, anger in his eyes "Don't." he growled "Don't you dare." He said as he closed the distance between them until he was only inches away from him.
"Do you know what they say about Charles?"
"The-Boy-Who-Lived" he said evenly.
A ridiculous name.
James smiled bitterly "The-Boy-Who-Lived" he scoffed a laugh, contempt clear in his voice. "That is what they call him, something that has forever etched a target on my little boy's back, one that he will never really get rid off." He returned his eyes to his own "He is the symbol of defiance against the Dark, the one that will who always have people either love him or hate him and that means that he needs to be prepared to deal with it all" his voice trailed off to a lower tone.
"Do you think that is an environment someone…like Harry…should be raised in? Constantly in danger, death eaters who would love to get their hands on him so they can torture him into insanity like they did the Longbottoms" he said with disgust in his voice before he growled out with hatred.
"When Wormtail is still out there, hiding out like the rat he is, waiting to harm, to betray my family again" He was almost shaking in pained hatred, his eyes flashing that spoke of skin deep wounds that would never heal.
"Without magic…he…he doesn't stand a chance and I refuse to let him live in our world. He doesn't deserve that risk and he is better off not knowing what he lost" James said with closed eyes.
"He should be raised with his family…his father. That is the environment he should be raised in" he returned quietly, one that seemed to strike at James who snapped his head away.
"I-I…" James tried "I know. Merlin be damned, I know" he said, his chest heaving with effort as James returned his gaze to him.
"But I can't. Not now…" 'Maybe not ever' he left unsaid.
"It's better for him to be away from…all of this, away from all those who would so happily kill him only to get to Charles, to me. He just needs to be away from the violence like…"
"Like I was taken away?" he finished for James, a silent tightening of the hands was all that he would allow to show.
James didn't answer which was an answer enough.
His lips tightened into a thin line, memories and harsh truth of his own parentage and abandonment forced into the forefront of his mind.
"Tell me where he is. I'll raise him myself." He said finally. James' head snapped up and looked at him with surprise.
"Don't act so surprised." He said with a tight smile, his eyes unkind despite knowing that the man before him was grief stricken. There were a few things that he found unforgivable, one of them was child abandonment.
"After all, I more than anyone else can understand from Harry's perspective" he said to James, his stare unblinking "You have thought of his perspective right? He lost his grandparents, his mother died in front of him, he lost his magic and now…" he said without mercy, his voice descending into a soft growl.
"Now his father abandons him and sends him away from his twin." James looked away at that.
"I'm not abandoning him" James said angrily though it was tired and he knew that James was losing the will to even bother "It is better for everyone if he is just…" James sighed as he brushed his hand across his face in a tired fashion "If he lived free from all of this. He isn't needed in our world and he won't be in our world." James looked at him, guilt and sadness in his eyes.
'He might not be needed but what about his needs? He needed his father to be a father' he thought to himself but he didn't voice it out, knowing the pointlessness of trying to talk him out of it.
It was something they both knew that despite the guilt, despite the sadness, James would remain unmovable from his position.
It was something that was inherent in him, a boy raised in privilege and confidence that never knew how to quit or be moved from what he believed. It was one of his strengths yet it also was his greatest weakness…a profound unwillingness to learn how to compromise or to see the world in the shades of greys that it was in.
"His lack of magic gives him a new chance at life, away from the kinds of attention that is now on Charles." James' expression tightened "Away from the fight that will continue."
He narrowed his eyes at what James said "Fight?"
James' laughed tiredly and it was a miserable one "Do you think just because He is dead that it all ends" James shook his head "There are too many who supported him, too many who will continue to push for his ideals" James' clenched his teeth "Ideals that got my family killed"
Understanding dawned on his face and for the first time since he'd heard the mutt brag to James about almost getting someone turned into a werewolf he felt disgusted with him. "Tell me you're not thinking of using Charles" he asked quietly, his tone disbelieving.
James' eyes hardened "He is the Light's best chance to forever rid us of the Dark, Klaus" he said in a firm tone "But I don't expect you to understand" he said with a shaking head before James glanced at him, his eyes cold "You've always ran away from any kind of duty" he said bitterly, once more drawing towards an old argument that turned what had once been a close relationship, brothers even, into one of distance and coldness.
"He's your son…not your weapon." He voiced out, as evenly as he could. 'Where was the man who was raised by two loving parents who were as good as people could get?'
"I know that." James said offended, his gaze biting. "Doesn't change who he needs to be" James said firmly, unmoveable "He will become with the Light needs him to become." James said confidently though he wasn't fooling anyone.
James was broken…lost. What could he do to try and jolt him out of it?
Could he free him from this destructive path he was spiralling into, taking an innocent with him?
"What he needs is a father…and a brother. He doesn't need unrealistic expectations from an ungrateful society" he said quietly.
James' eyes, almost hidden behind foggy glasses, were conflicted, for a brief moment before it was gone, before he set himself and his boy onto a path of no return. "I will be there for him. I will be there to guide however he needs to win"
He sighed internally as his eyes hardened slightly.
"Sounds what Dumbledore would say" he met James' hard eyes unflinchingly, accusation clear in his words.
James' lips thinned, his eyes grew ever more colder. "Maybe" he said in a false sanguine tone "He has always been more right than you ever were and at least he was doing something against evil unlike you. Maybe if you used your so called prodigious talents" he swept his arm around in an arc, bitter clear to see in his expression as he smiled falsely at him "All of this wouldn't have happened."
He glanced away from James' cold eyes, unwilling to rise to his jab.
Perhaps he didn't want to answer because he knew that he could have made a difference. Perhaps not defeat Voldemort but probably stop him in other ways.
His so called death eaters wouldn't have posed an issue, nothing an enchanted bullet couldn't fix.
Yet he knew that killing them and taking part of this war would do little to solve the problems he'd seen in the time he'd spent in Magical Britain as a youth.
The society in Magical Britain, the societies in many parts of the Magical World, were all unstable deck of cards under an unexploded nuclear warhead.
He'd seen it before, even if it was different, in vivid dreams, in vivid nightmares that have always plagued him. Nightmares that made him understand much more and so much less yet always he would quietly despair at what he saw and witnessed, the slow march into destruction that was so easily avoidable yet unchangeable.
Perhaps it was the human condition, to always descend into chaos and destruction, into despair and into madness.
Magic or not.
Even now, with the death of Voldemort, he was sceptical they could avoid another war in the coming decades…in Charles and Harry's adulthood. The sudden defeat would do little but allow both sides to lick their wounds only to go at each other again and if the same destruction was wreaked onto the muggle world like it had been for years before…
"You could always just leave, James." He said quietly as he stared into the distance, trying once more to take him away from the crushing weight that would flatten the last of the Potters. "There is nothing tying you back here now. You could raise both boys away from…all of this."
There was a silence then, one that seemed to drag on.
"I said no then, and it is a no now." James said finally and he turned to glance at him. James was shutting himself down, any entreating would do no more good, he knew now.
"Their sacrifice will not be for nothing." James said coldly and that was that, another one that would continue a fruitless cycle that many like Dumbledore, perhaps because of Dumbledore, have trivialised into a war of Dark versus Light.
He could only nod, silently grieving for what would become of Uncle Flea and Aunt Ephemia's legacy…of Charlus' legacy…of Dorea's legacy.
'I'm sorry Charles' he thought of the brown eyed boy, one unwillingly conscripted to a war that neither side understood, the first of many children who would follow in the footsteps of their forbearers with vengeance sought and pain wrought.
"Then let me raise Harry." He said to James, their gaze meeting "He will be raised away from the magical world, just as you want but at least he will be raised by someone who is family"
James' gaze was unflinching, his brown eyes behind wet glasses remained cold before he shot down any hope that he might allow Harry to be raised by him "No." James' single word was said emotionlessly though his eyes reflected exactly what he meant by it as James turned away from Klaus. "He is better off where he is." James stopped for a moment, almost looking over his shoulder.
"I think it's best if you don't visit for a time. Thank you for…coming but I think your work needs you back in Egypt, Doctor." James said before he walked away.
He watched his figure disappear into the distance, his eyes drooping as the sounds of the drizzling rain continued its repetitive song, one that mocked and laughed as the final strands of kinship broke between two who'd been raised almost as brothers.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Euphemia…Uncle Flea" he said quietly, allowing himself to mourn more freely. They had been good people, people who welcomed a troubled orphan as one of their own. People who deserved a better world, one that he did not see forming in the wondrous yet troubled world he was only tangentially part of these days.
"Was I wrong, Uncle Flea" he said aloud before he turned his gaze towards the headstone.
"Could I…Could I have changed all of this?" he asked his adoptive uncle in a solemn voice.
He'd ran all of his life from any war, from any conflict, plagued with memories of a distant path, a coming future, learning how to fight only to ensure that he would never have to.
When Dorea died, despite all of his efforts, he hadn't come back to Britain for years, choosing to lose himself in his research into Ancient Egypt's past, a surrogate way of avoiding his own murky past and an opportunity to forgot his present.
When Uncle Flea and Aunt Euphemia became ill with the same disease that took Dorea from him, he couldn't let the same happen to them and finished his research, creating a cure for Dragon Pox that he gave away without a care to the Magical World.
He left soon after they were cured, only for them to live a few more years, avoiding being ensnared in Dumbledore's grandfatherly words and implorations to join the fight against a Dark Lord that people feared saying the name of.
James had tried on Dumbledore's behalf, before he tried on his own behalf but his answer had always been No.
His hands returned to the constricting pockets of his jacket, his head bowed one last time as a single tear left his eyes "Goodbye Uncle Flea, Aunt Euphemia…Lily. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for your family." 'Not like how yours had done for me'
He turned on his heels and walked away, away from the last bonds that kept him in Britain, away from the regret and pain that accompanied him in this cursed land.
Though…
He would find out that though he may have walked away, he would never be free from the bonds, shattered they might be, that were forged with a family that had taken him in as one of their own…not when one of their own had been cast away much like he had been by his own parents.
-Break-
He turned the page, his attentions firmly on the weathered book in his lap as he sat on the uneven stool by the window until he heard the bell in the shop. He peered around the corner from where he was, perched high on the second floor and he cursed when he recognised her.
It was the crazy woman who cornered him in the muggle side of Alexandria and took some of his hair a few weeks ago!
He'd been scared when he told his boss this, who for once was serious enough to tell him that she could be using his hair for all kinds of dark Rituals and he hadn't been able to sleep for days, not until he was slipped a sleeping potion by his bastard of a boss.
The only good thing about those sleepless nights had been he didn't have those strange dreams of a strange life, one with flying cars and cities built underground.
His boss opened the door of his room, his fat hairy belly jiggling as he spoke Boy, go meet whoever that is his boss grunted out in Arabic before he slammed the door shut, not allowing him to say that it was the same woman who'd taken his hair.
There would be no point in trying to get him to open the door, it was enchanted to keep all noise out with the exception of the bell that let him know if any entered.
His boss was a bastard, a real Sharmouta but he was also the only one who would hire a nine-year-old foreign looking kid with a Coptic accent, not do any kind funny business to him and pay him more than 10% of the sale of the things he stole from the Unblessed.
He tapped his pocket knife, one that he had the bastard carve with Ever Sharpness and Recall runes. She'd hit him with a paralysing spell of some kind and he thought he might be able to hit her with the knife fast enough just before he was hit and break her concentration.
Welcome to Ali Shoufa's Shop, where you can find the most magical and rarest of what Egypt can provide he said tonelessly, reciting what the bastard insisted he always open up with.
Something about adding pizzaz – whatever that meant – for the customers.
He supposed it was fair, something had to distract the shoppers from the dump the place really was.
He jumped down the high stairs that were a little too large for him to not jump down or climb up, and waded through the various random objects that were around the shop until he was behind the desk. The woman seemed to ignore him, touching and flicking through the various items and such in the shop.
He eyed her warily, his hand close to his pocket. He'd seen a few messed up things when he'd made his way up the Nile and it beat it into him that he shouldn't drop his guard, ever. He wasn't sure what he could do against this woman but at least he'd make sure it wasn't easy.
That was what he told himself anyway. He was still too many years away from properly protecting himself.
After what seemed like an age, she finally turned to him and a deep sense of apprehension washed over him. She had stormy grey eyes, her rick black hair that seemed to be as soft as silk yet as hard as steel with sharp features that he'd seen often enough in many of the nobler families of Alexandria though…and he was unnerved by it…she had a nose that he recognised keenly, one he saw often enough in the mirror.
What can I do for you? he finally asked, his eyes meeting her gaze. He wasn't sure if he should ask what she did with his hair and somehow he thought she would tell him anyways. Why else was she here, now?
Any hope that it might not have been bad news for him all died away as her cold, expressionless feature melted away as a cruel smile bloomed on her face.
Perhaps it's more what I can do for you, my dear child she said, her voice caused him to flinch and all hopes of it being anything less than really bad for him faded away.
15th of August 1984 - Chicago
His eyes snapped open, the dream vanished away. He sighed heavily as he trailed a drowsy hand across his wet face.
He grimaced as he remembered what happened after she'd said that.
He shook his head before he ripped the duvet off of his body, grabbed his enchanted glasses and pushed himself off the comfortable bed, proceeding towards the bathroom.
At least it wasn't the other kind of dreams.
After receiving room service from this frankly swanky five-star hotel, Waldorf Astoria Chicago, he sat down and went through the notes he collected in Egypt.
The non magicals knew nothing about the hundreds, if not thousands of likely hidden tombs of Ancient Egypt, places where ancient Mage Priests, venerated generals and hallowed Pharaohs lost to history were entombed.
Places still protected by some of the nastiest wards known to magicals powered by blood magic and rituals…and of course where there were immense treasure caches, scripts and artefacts that were lost to time – and magicals.
Despite the attempts by the Goblins, of course, the greedy little treacherous urchins.
He grimaced as he thought on his early Curse-Breaking days, occupying his days when he wasn't focused on his Alchemy. The gruesome deaths of those who were unlucky to trip some of the wards would stick in his mind.
He'd gotten into it after graduating from the Theban School of the Mystics in 1969, a school famous for Runes, warding, curse-breaking, blood-magic and defensive magic. It was an ancient school that can trace its roots back to the days of warrior Priests of the Middle Kingdom era despite only truly formulising into a school in the 13th century rather than the apprentice – master system they'd previously used.
He'd lost a few of his friends to wards that had deliberately been left intact by the treacherous goblins who had already cleared out the ruins, all to cause a few wizarding deaths.
His eyes grew hooded. He might prefer to avoid conflict but it didn't mean he had to allow deliberate attacks to go unanswered. He'd paid them back for their treachery more than a few times.
Magic was incredibly flexible and could do quite a few interesting things, especially against others you didn't like. Wards designed against Goblins were far from impossible.
He glanced back at the notes before him, frown adorned as he removed his enchanted glasses that hid his golden eyes and provided the illusion of grey blue eyes…the same eye colour and shape Dorea's eyes had been.
He'd gone solo in 1973, and went on expeditions during his holidays whilst studying Archaeology at the University of Cambridge, with his Alchemy studies continuing on as his main interest.
Over the years, he'd found references towards something that hadn't made any sense, until he'd found more where the surviving few writings that well preceded 3,000 BC by ancient Mage Priests referred to a Time of the False Serpents, one where Mage Priests hid their magic, even referencing the killing of babes that displayed magic all in an attempt for magic remain a secret.
From what he could infer, Egypt had been under the thrall of serpent like creatures that masqueraded as Gods, one of the ones specifically mentioned was Ra, the Egyptian Sun God.
There were some later references he found, dated sometime in the 27th century BC, that these Mage Priests played a crucial role in forcing Ra out from Egypt and burying the 'Doorway to the Stars' in Giza.
It was ground breaking stuff, that the Egyptian Gods were in fact some kind of parasitic life forms that took humans as hosts which was what sent the Mage Priests into hiding but that wasn't the part that really captured his attentions.
These 'Goa'ulds' were purported to sail the stars in pyramid shaped ships.
The supposed doorway was a clue anyway that these beings were probably not terrestrial but the supposition that they were a spacefaring civilisation?
That shook him, especially given that he was inclined to believe it given that magic existed.
What more was parasitic aliens that used human bodies as puppets?
He doubted anyone would believe him if he ever told anyone else so he kept it to himself.
His studies in Alchemy all but were reduced to a hobby, one that he was naturally proficient in yet the mysteries of this world always beckoned him forth, turning him away from the calling of his ancestors.
He tried to find this…doorway in Giza but he'd found nothing.
Giza, unfortunately, was a well explored region, both magical and non magical and he hadn't found much luck there…until he found out about an expedition where there was remarkably little information on, an expedition in 1928.
What he could find was references to something being shipped from Egypt to the United States in 1939, wrapped into so much secrecy that even one of the surviving Egyptian officials involved knew very little other than the shipment happened once he'd finished pilfering through the man's memories with Legillimency.
It was partly why he was here in Chicago today.
He'd been asked to speak on a seminar on a rather relatively significant find he'd made in Egypt, one that had been protected by Ancient Egyptian wards but that he dismantled and made a show of discovering it the non magical way.
It wasn't his first decent find, that had been in 1978, a year after completing his Doctorate but it was his most impressive contribution yet – to the non magicals anyway.
It would be attended by many prominent archaeologists but he was only interested in one and she'd be there this evening.
He spent the next few hours going through his notes, preparing for the seminar until it was time to go.
He arrived early to the University, discussing and conversing with the Professors and the other early arrivals until the lecture hall filled out to near complete capacity.
Soon enough it was time for him to give the seminar as Professor Watson, a senior member of the Department of Archaeology at the University of Chicago stepped up to the front of the hall.
The room descended into a quiet hubbub as the Professor Watson begun to speak "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this Seminar on the ground breaking Archaeological findings in one Egypt's prominent Necropoli, Saqqara" the man said with a smile in his voice "Known to be as one of the major pyramid sites in Egypt, it seems that there was much to discover as 40 stone coffins were found, several of found to be buried at least 36 feet deep"
"Without spoiling the rest of the content of this seminar" he said with a chuckle, and some joined him in it "Please welcome the man of the hour, or perhaps the man of the year if the rumours of him appearing on the cover of Time magazine is true, Doctor Klaus Hohenheim!" the man said before clapping him onto the stage which the audience also joined.
An exaggeration that had some basis in truth. He was after all a fairly handsome man. A young blond blue eyed Egyptian born man with a rather posh English accent but held a very Germanic name.
Yes…it was a strange mix, one that many were fascinated with. And that was without them knowing how 'exotic' his eyes were.
Not a major wonder why he was rather…popular with the papers – at least the ones that bothered with archaeology…of which there weren't many – that drew Indiana Jones parallels with him.
He walked sedately onto the stage, his graceful steps were fluid and well practiced as he neared Professor Watson and shook his hand.
Dorea had drummed etiquette into him and how to conduct himself rather well in his youth, much to his younger self's dismay.
How much he would give if only to be chastised by her again…
"Thank you Professor Watson" he said in an astute tone before he swivelled to the audience, an easy smile on his face as Professor Watson departed.
"I hadn't expected to see so many turn out for this seminar, especially with the demographic looking so young" he said as his eyes traipsed across the near full room.
"It seems like the future of archaeology is preserved which is a little funny considering archaeology is effectively digging out preserved coffins of the past" he said with a little chuckle, one that seem to amuse plenty of people in the Seminar.
He doubted it was really genuine, his joke was terrible.
"Though I'm not too surprised to see so many university students here, other than the fact that we're at the University of Chicago that is" he said easily before he rounded up with his last joke "Out of context, one could say that archaeology was professional grave robbing and they would be technically right so seeing so many eager and budding archaeologist is only right given the daring and dastardly nature of the job" he said in a conspiratorially tone, one that caused many to smile at his antics.
"That was my last joke, I promise" he said with his hands up before he drifted nearly automatically into his narrating "Saqqara" he began, his voice having lost all levity, his tone commanding
"Saqqara is the sweeping necropolis and pyramid field of Memphis, the first capital of Egypt and has been an important site for the past 5,000 years. Nearly of the Pharaohs of the first, second, third, fifth and sixth dynasties have been found entombed in the Saqqara Necropolis" he gestured towards the projector that came into life behind "And though, over the centuries, starting from the fourth Dynasty, the location of the royal necropolis changed, Saqqara never faded from importance, Amenophis III made that clear with the temple he had constructed for the Memphite god Ptah and for Osiris."
The projector changed screens as the site of where he'd found the coffins came into view. "That brings us to the latest discovery…" and so he told them the story that he'd rehearsed, omitting the true nature of how he'd discovered it.
Soon enough, an hour and a half later, the seminar ended and the after event began, one where Professors and Archaeologists from all around the world could meet and discuss latest findings and theories over a few glasses of champagne.
"Over sixty years all of those priceless artefacts have remained at the bottom of the sea, of the coast of New Jersey of all things" Doctor David Jordan said with a dismayed shake of the head as he gesticulated slightly "Priceless artefacts that could give us incredible insights on Osiris"
Klaus eyebrows raised "And these…artefacts are of the coast of New Jersey?" he questioned musingly, showing enough interest despite wracking his mind on the prospect of what those artefacts could be.
He'd read about it, briefly, but had dismissed it in the wake of the more important things.
"Yes" Dr Jordan said almost grievously "From the descriptions of the items that were catalogued, amongst the artefacts were jars with symbols of Osiris and Isis." Dr Jordan paused for a moment as he frowned, seemingly recollecting his thoughts or memories "I believe it was quite a significant discovery, one that markedly different how the Ancient Egyptians honoured their Gods…" Dr Jordan continued to speak of those jars and he half listened, his mind thinking on the likelihood that those jars contained more than just insights.
Jars, or at least Canopic jars were used to preserve particular human organs. Lungs, intestines, liver and the stomach were all that was preserved, kept safe, for the individual as they believed it was needed in the afterlife.
For these Jars to have the symbols of Osiris, the god of the deceased, and Isis, the goddess of healing…well, that marked investigation whilst he was here in the States.
If he thought what they might be…the last thing they'd need is these creatures let loose on the world if what Jordan said was true about stirrings of a salvaging expedition.
He'd have to be careful though. The grim writings of the Ancient Mage Priests were not to be dismissed.
A little while later, he waded through the busy room, talking briefly with others before he finally spotted her.
"Doctor Langford" he said with a charming smile on his face and she swivelled around, her aged visage did not hide of the truth, of the beauty she once was.
"Doctor Hohenheim" she said with a distinct tone, one that drew respect unto herself, one that was not gained without experience and having earned it. Her eyes seemed to analyse him keenly.
He stuck his hand and her eyes went to it before, after a single moment, taking it. "It's an honour to finally meet you" he said with a smile "I'm a big fan of your work" he told her and it was true. She was a pioneer in archaeology and really should have been much better known. He suspected it might well be deliberate however.
She inclined her head, a small smile blooming on her face "Thank you" she said politely as she peered up at him "You're not doing so bad yourself. Certainly impressive to make such an impact at only age 33" she complimented him. "Four discoveries only a few years after your doctorate, a few more in the years since and now this big find"
He gave an abashed expression "I've certainly been lucky so far." He told her "I just seem to have a knack for sniffing out lost secrets" he said easily to her "Though I think you have me beat there" he said with a broadened smile.
Her brows knitted, her eyes seemed a little confused though to him he could see the hallmarks of guards being raised.
{What is he referring to…he can't mean…Stargate…he doesn't know...}
Her mind was quick, sharper than he expected of one of her age and he didn't catch too much from passive Legillimency but what he had seen and heard…this Stargate…
She was the right person…
His eyes gleamed though his glasses hid it "I was referring to your excavations in Qurnet Murai where you found insights and writings that gave us a window into the time of Tutankhamun" he said as he moved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, staring intently at her.
Her eyes lit up in understanding as she relaxed ever so slightly "Yes…" she began to explain as he continued to use passive Legillimency on her, carefully, though it didn't yield anywhere near what he wanted to know though he learned that she had connections with the US military…something that made him wary.
The fact that she called it Stargate, different from what he knew it was called by the Mage Priests, hints that she knew very well what it was supposed to be.
'Did the Americans know how to use it?'
It was a thought that occupied him for a number of days as he pondered what to do until he decided to scope out her home which was near Cheyenne Mountain which conveniently was a military base for the US air force.
She was not protected, thankfully, so it meant he could enter her home.
"Dorea would have my hide" he muttered to himself as he thought on what he was about to do, distinctly misusing what she'd taught him.
He felt bad, mind whamming an old woman, a person he even respected, but he needed to know what the US military were doing with the Doorway and what other things she knew about these Goa'ulds.
Hours later he exited the old woman's home, exhausted yet pleased and also more than a little perplexed.
She didn't know as much as he thought she might know.
The most pertinent thing she knew was that of the Stargate's possible function as a transportation method, one that potentially connected to other such devices on distant worlds, the symbols that were around the face of the Stargate being the mechanism, the address numbers that would dial into others like it.
They didn't know how to activate it, yet, but eventually that was the aim.
Her other memories were fairly standard, except for one instance in 1969 where she'd met some visitors who disappeared almost as soon as they'd arrived but knew of the Stargate, and only helped him understand that the US knew very little, at least as far as Dr Langford knew…
That was where the problem lied. There were clear signs of her mind having been tampered with, decades old. Unfortunately, he could not re-construct the memories – too much time had passed since the memories had been wiped – but he did find a subliminal message…
One that encouraged Dr Langford to start the Stargate Program.
Who would have the motivation and the skill needed to encourage the Stargate Program to begin?
It couldn't be magicals, not if they understood what a Pandora's Box the Stargate really was.
Even he didn't really understand what it could open up…except for spacefaring parasites with a God complex.
Yes…he knew just about enough to know how bad things could get.
He needed to learn more and he knew just where to find such answers.
-Break-
19th of September 1984
He swivelled his wand around and pointed towards the crew of the salvage vessel as the secured, both magically and non magically, contents loaded up onto the van.
"Is that a gimmick?" one of them said laughing as the rest of them turned around and he swept his wand across, hitting them all with Obliviate.
"You will think that you went out searching for the wreckage of a Confederate Ship of the Line based on a rumour you overheard. A wealthy financier got wind of it and offered to fund it as long as his name was kept quiet. You thought it was worth a try to see if you'd find something but you came up empty for the past month or so and the financier cut your funding" he said to them, the spell moulding, forming to alter their minds to the instructions he intoned.
He arced his wand, hitting them all with a mild sleeping charm that would put them to sleep for the next quarter hour before he got into his van and drove off.
It had been a pain to deal with the salvage crew, their complaints and mockery had grated on him. It had been a wise choice to have hit them with a compulsion charm that he reapplied each day to not speak of what they were searching for.
No doubt they'd have talked, even if he had been paying exorbitant fees. He could have cheated them, paying them only operating costs but that would have drawn further investigations on their parts. This way they wouldn't question it nearly as much.
Didn't mean he wasn't feeling slightly aggrieved though – despite his blatant hypocrisy with what he'd done to them.
Hours later, he finally got home to his property in upstate New York, a fairly decently sized estate that he'd purchased with one of his first payouts.
He was a duel citizen of both the US and Egypt, in both worlds. Egypt was as close to a country of birth as he could have and the US was just convenient.
MACUSA knew of his status in the non magical world and though Rappaport's Law had been repealed, they still weren't exactly happy that he operated as much as he was in the non magical world.
It helped though that he was a rather well known Alchemist who cured Dragon Pox so they let him be for the most part.
"Felsie" he called out as he arrived at the entrance of his home.
*POP*
"Yes master" the elf dutifully said.
"Prepare the ritual rooms and double check that the safeguards are unblemished"
The elf bowed "Yes master, I will start immediately" he said before he popped away.
He took off the glasses and sighed before he walked towards the living room, straight to the cabinet.
He took out a bottle of bourbon and grabbed a glass from the top shelf and poured himself a glass as he sunk into his chair, downing his glass in one hit.
He tapped the rim of his empty glass as he frowned deeply, his eyebrows nearly knitted together.
He'd scanned the contents of the crates and found two living beings in them, confirming his fears and hopes.
He wasn't certain what he was doing was a good idea at all. He knew practically nothing about these so called Gods, only what has been ascribed to them in myth which were all mostly nonsense.
The Mage Priests made it clear that all they were parasites…parasites that were capable of possessing the bodies of people, capable of creating a spacefaring civilisation.
Yet all he could obsess about was…
Why?
Why masquerade as Gods when you could travel through space?
He wasn't certain if they were capable of travelling faster than light but the possibility existed.
He glanced away, towards the windows where the moon was half obscured by a cloudy night sky, drawing on dreams and memories of a life…of someone else's life as he pondered that question.
Their science had been advanced and had made forays into faster than light though it had never gotten anywhere…at least by the time it all en-
He shook his head, violently banishing away those thoughts as he refocused on the task at hand.
In the end, the question of why pretend to be Gods didn't nearly as much matter as finding out more about the species, where they were in the galaxy and why they haven't come back.
He poured himself one more glass, drank it swiftly before he got up and returned to the van.
He levitated the crates that contained both of them down to the ritual room before he set it down at the centre of the room.
He had them moved, carefully into a two crates where they were placed individually, away from any other artefacts.
He stepped away, out of the boundary runes and he flicked his wand before he tapped the tip against the side of the wall which was covered with runes.
The runes glowed and a sheen of a shield formed, a boundary that nothing could pass through except for him. It was interwoven with a dozen other spells, including every variant and form of anti-possession wards and charms he knew of, a perquisite of any budding curse-breaker that wanted to go into the tombs of Ancient Mage Priests well versed in the matter of the Soul and Necromancy.
The ritual rooms were separated by a wall but were both covered by the wards. He'd release one of them from the jar and see if he could interrogate them.
It was days later when he found the courage to do what was necessary as he entered the room where the Osiris jar was.
A table was placed beside the jar with a basket weaved out of steel, charmed to be unbreakable, with penny sized gaps between the cables of steel. It would be far too small for the creature to slip out from based on the scans he'd made of the thing.
With a flick, the charms placed on the crate were dismissed before he swept his wand across, vanishing the wooden crate, the straw fibres until all that remained was the Osiris jar.
He stared at the jar for a moment longer before he flicked his wand upward, levitating the jar into the air.
With a jab, cracks began to form on the surface of the jar before it began to orbit around the still form of the serpentine like creature.
He inspected the creature, carefully and saw that it was vaguely reminiscent of a particularly rare magical serpent that dwelled in the sea. The creature had an eel like tail and a long fin that started from its crown all the down the length of the creature.
The creature began to twitch, nearly startling him and he kept a careful on it, unwilling to even remotely for a second keep his eye off of it.
The twitching grew more severe, as if it was awakening from hibernation until it began to a terrible noise, a terrible unholy screech that threatened to deafen him as it flailed helplessly in the air.
He narrowed his eyes and flicked the creature into the open top of the steel basket, uncaring of the speed that it was thrown with and shut the top with a flick of his wand, before it could escape.
The creature bashed against the walls of the steel basket, continuing to make an unholy sound, aggravating him.
He pointed his wand at the steel basket, the tip of his wand crackling with unrestrained power and let loose a crackling arching bolt of blue white lightning that collided with the steel gasket, the volume of the creature screeching rose and rose as it was electrocuted until it petered down, until it became quiet at which point he stopped the attack.
He waved his wand lazily at the creature and saw that it was still alive.
He once more waved his wand at the steel basket, ensuring that it remained firmly shut as he walked steadily towards the basket until he bend down slightly.
"You may not understand me" he said quietly as he looked at the still twitching form of the creature through the gaps between the braided steel "But I'm sure you understand violence."
The creature stopped twitching and laid still for a moment. Klaus kept his eyes on the creature despite knowing that it couldn't harm him. The creature suddenly leapt forward, crashing unto the braided steel with full force, to the extent it almost tipped over.
"Fascinating" he murmured as he stared at the creature. It was strong. Far stronger than its size indicated it should be. Its behaviour, regardless of its intelligence, hinted at an evolution that favoured ambush like many terrestrial serpentines.
He leaned back from the basket and pointed his wand at the creature who seemed stare at him, swaying as it stood on its tail.
It softly hissed at him, markedly different from the irritating noise that it made.
"Legillimens" he whispered as he tried to dive into the mind of the creature and…
It had been a mistake.
He was assaulted with a foreign mindscape so different than humans, one where memories were not memories, where experiences were given, not experienced and he was assaulted with what to be generations of memories and he withdrew, only just before it could overwhelm his mind.
His wand clattered on the ground as he clasped his head with both hands as he dropped to his knees, the sounds of the creature banging against the walls ringing in his ears.
He felt as his brain was on fire, memories of cruelty and monstrosity that made all that he'd experienced or seen in both lives seem trivial if only by the scale and the joy the creature seemed to feel from the misery, torture and death it gave out.
He desperately ordered the fragmented memories as much as he could with his Occlumency, sorting and filing away everything he'd gotten from the creature, experiencing them as he did so.
In what felt like an age, an age where thousands, tens of thousands…millions suffered at his- it's – hands, he finally managed to get his mindscape to a state that was remotely not fractured.
He heaved as he reopened his eyes and stopped gripping his head with his hands, hands that were trembling, hands that were seeped in a small amount of blood as his nails had dug into the skin of his head from the way he'd tightly held.
"Master, Master!" he held and he turned around and saw Felsie clutching his eyes distressed.
He held out his hand, tiredly at his elf "I'm fine, Felsie…just suffering from my own hubris" he said with a wan smile to his elf. "Go back to what you were doing, I will be out shortly." He said to the elf, dismissing him.
"Yes master" he heard his elf say, his voice tinged with relief though he was far from paying attention to that. What he had seen these creatures do…
The soft hissing from the creature drew his attention, the expression on his face shifted into nothingness as his head slowly rose, his eyes drooped down as he turned to the creature with half lidded eyes.
The creature was staring at him, intently, its sickly red eyes unblinking.
"Your kind…" he began, his voice a low murmur as he climbed to his feet shakily.
The creature's gaze followed him nonetheless "Your kind is an abomination, an infection that has spread itself throughout the galaxy, washing over it like a poisonous gas suffocating all life." He continued, his voice finding an inner strength, an inner fury as his mind replayed the crimes this single creature had wrought onto the human race, what the rest of its kind would do once they returned.
They ruled much of the galaxy like despotic insane warlords, holding delusions of grandeur that boggled the mind.
He stared at the creature with unveiled contempt.
'This is what ruled the galaxy?' he wondered with disgust.
He'd seen a few of the creature's genetic memory, what the Unas were, what its origins were.
Creatures that got lucky and used technology of a long dead race to advance themselves whilst wiping out any competitors. Creatures who'd found Earth and proceeded to use his kind as slaves and hosts as they seeded the rest of the galaxy with human slaves.
He raised his wand, the hissing of the creature growing as it backed away from the nearest wall that faced him. The tip of his wand began to crackle a deep yellow, markedly different from the blue that was Fulmen.
"Fulmina" he whispered, the electric torture curse arced with a whizzing, wiring cutting noise as it made contact with the steel braided cage and the anguished screeching sounds of the creature caused him to smile grimly.
He wasn't sure how long he kept it up, the screeching ended some time ago but he stopped when he began to feel the strain. The spell ended, the surface of the steel braided cage was red hot yet the unbreakable charms were still active.
He stepped closer to the cage and saw the smoking husk of the creature that once deluded itself into thinking it was a God.
He opened the top of the cage and flicked his wand upward, impassively staring at the charred form of the pitiful creature it had always been.
"May your soul be devoured by Ammit himself" he uttered with utmost contempt before he waved his wand, vanishing the remains of the creature before he stumbled slightly, clutching his head.
He'd have to spend at least a few days rebuilding his mindscape and pushed the useless memories he'd…gained…behind the cage where the rest of his unwanted memories were.
He walked out of the ritual room and into the next one where he stood just by the door and with a slash of his wand, dragonfire erupted out of his wand, a fire that burned through the protections he'd placed on the crate before it consumed it whole.
There was no need to learn more. He knew more than he'd ever wanted to know.
His eyes grew grim as he ended the spell, as he watched the fire continuing to burn through the remnants of the crate.
The challenge that they were faced against was almost insurmountable. Not with what they knew, not with what they had.
The Goa'ulds had thousands of ships, and a single Hat'ak was capable of rendering the entire planet devoid of any and all human civilisation, magical or non magical alike.
He walked back to his living room up the stairs, and he headed straight to his cabinet and picked something stronger this time.
Ogden's Firewhiskey, 1846.
"Suitable." He murmured as he filled the glass to the brim and slumped into his chair.
He drank of his glass as he pondered what to do now.
He frowned as he realised it may have been hasty of him to have gotten rid of the creatures already. He could have presented them to MACUSA or the ICW who would have been able to corroborate what he knew.
He wasn't sure they would have listen to even conduct the testing in the first place and their arrogance could have spelled disaster if one of them had broken free and possessed them but it had been an avenue he could have tried.
He brushed his hand against his face before he shook his head lightly. It was pointless trying to bemoan lost opportunities. He lost his head, almost his mind and he'd taken out on the creatures that deserved death a thousand fold.
He sighed as he brought his drink to his lips before he stilled and his eyes widened.
Death…
A thousand fold…
Sarcophagus…
A memory strand of a punishment came into his mind, one that showed Ra killing and then healing his enemy back to life with a sarcophagus of all things.
He chuckled as he shook his head in dismay. They could bring people back to life, extend lifespans even heal all known injuri-…
Heal all kinds of injuries…
"Would it be possible…" he murmured as he lost himself into the Goa'uld's memory.
The creature knew not of magic…real magic, thankfully but it knew some things about the sarcophagus or rather it knew that it was loosely based on the same people that created the Doorways.
The Sarcophagi were based on that technology and perhaps...perhaps it could be used to heal something deemed unhealable by magic.
He'd found no leads that could heal a broken core but with this…
His mind was a whirl as he thought on how he could combine the technology with magic.
Osiris seemed to have some stashes in various locations that it secreted away, something he could look into.
He raised his glass with a darkened smile "To Osiris" he said with contempt. It seemed some good would come from the creature after all.
-Break-
15th of September 1986
He woke up in a startling fit as shouting emanated from beyond his cupboard. Faint light penetrated through the seams of the cupboard door as he picked up his head from the crusty thin mattress.
"WHO DO YOU…" Harry winced as he uncurled himself from his ratty blanket, his hands moving towards his ears to drown out Uncle Vernon's angry bellow. Things never were good when Uncle Vernon was this mad. He whimpered slightly as the vestiges of pain from when Uncle Vernon had grabbed by the neck throbbed.
He'd make the mistake of doing better than Dudley in school and he paid for it.
'That'll teach you to cheat, you freak! How dare you cheat to do better than our Dudley?!' Uncle Vernon bellowed at him as he'd lay on the floor petrified.
He'd known then that things wouldn't change just because he wasn't in Number 4 Privet Drive. That just because he knew his name now that it didn't mean that anyone cared about him.
Freak…Boy…Harry Potter…
No one cared about Harry Potter and no one would help him.
He tried once to tell his teacher, Mrs Melissa that his bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs and that the Dursleys hurt him and made him do all the work in the house. She looked upset and he really thought he was going to get help!
He shouldn't have tried.
The Dursleys had come in and told Mrs Mellissa that he was a liar that liked creating stories to help him deal with the death of his parents…that it was the reason why he was so shy and quiet. The headmaster of the primary was a friend of Uncle Vernon and said that Uncle Vernon would never do anything like that.
The beating he got that day left him aching for weeks and even at school they thought he was pretending. Uncle Vernon was clever in making sure he had no marks like usual.
Ever since, he was known as the little troublemaking liar and the Dursleys as the nice family who were taking care of him even if he was a bad child. No matter how much he wished, no one was coming to save him.
Freaks like him didn't deserve it.
He furrowed his brows he didn't hear any more shouting and took his hands of his ears. He could hear Aunt Petunia talking very fast and she only did that when she was really upset. He could only hear some words like 'freak' and 'police' clearly.
He leaned against the door, his ear wedded to the splintery wood as he listened raptly to the conversation until he accidentally bumped against the door as the ground shook a little when something was dropped.
'Maybe it was Uncle Vernon' he hoped a little though never would he dare utter those words.
For as long as he lived, he could only really remember being hated for something he didn't know, only that he was a freak like his parents and he deserved it.
The lock of his cupboard door was being opened and Harry scurried to the edges of his cupboard. He made sure to mind the spider and his web as he set his back against the wall. Suddenly he wasn't sure it was good if it was Uncle Vernon who fell on the ground.
Someone that strong to hurt fat Uncle Vernon would find it easy to hurt him.
He squinted his eyes as the stinging light from the hallway erupted into the cupboard.
"Harry…" the man's voice was a smooth rumble, very different to Uncle Vernon's breathy angry voice.
The man crouched and his face popped closer to the cupboard. Harry's eyes widened as he looked at the man. He looked strong and his eyes were like gold. His hair that was tied up like a pony tail, was the same colour as his eyes too and it was a much nicer colour than Aunt Petunia's or Dudley's blonde hair
He was wearing some really nice clothes that were black and that looked like the clothes some of his classmates' parents were but nicer. Harry's eyes turned back to the man's face.
He looked Harry with a gentle look and Harry cringed. Why was he looking so nicely at him?
"Who are you?" he asked in a frightened whisper. Why did this man know his name?
The man's eyes looked at him with almost like how he'd seen other people look at children. A sad smile came across his face.
"That's a good question Harry" the man said quietly slightly making Harry furrow his brows.
"Are you a teacher?" Harry whispered suddenly, surprising even himself.
The man tilted his head slightly "Why do you think I am a teacher?" he asked in an encouraging way.
"Only teachers call me Harry." He answered. Harry watched the man carefully as the man closed his eyes momentarily.
"I see" he said in a soft tone before a few moments passed when he reopened his eyes. Harry flinched as his eyes looked at him in a way he never seen before. He wrapped his arms around his legs as he buried his face in his knees.
"I'm not a teacher Harry" He told him.
His mouth opened for a moment but he closed it shut. Who was he then? He knew his name and he never seen him before.
"I'm…your" the man paused for a moment "Uncle of sorts" he said with a soft smile.
Harry frowned. Uncle Vernon was his uncle and he wasn't nice. But this man was being nice, maybe he was a different kind of uncle?
"Harry…" he said again in that soft gentle tone.
"Would you like to leave this place?" the man asked gently.
Harry looked up from behind his knees at the man, bewildered by the question.
"Leave?" he uttered astonished in a faint whisper as he stared at the man.
He wished lots of times that he could leave but no one answered. Was this a dream or did it really work this time?
"Yes Harry. You would have your own room, a big one and you would have a real home" the man said softly and kindly.
Harry trembled. A real home? Harry pinched his leg and winced a little. He wasn't dreaming. This was real?
"This is my home. My Aunt and Unc"
"Harry, this was never your home" the man said in a firm tone making Harry cringe.
The man sighed as he ran his hand on his face before he looked at Harry again "I'm sorry Harry. It's just I knew your grandparents very well. They would never had wanted you here"
Harry's eyes widened. This man knew his grandparents? "You knew my grandparents?" Maybe he knew his parents too.
The man smiled sadly before he nodded slightly "Yes, I knew your father's parents. They were good people. The best of people. They welcomed me when I was only a little bit older than yourself"
Harry smiled tremulously before he asked "What about my parents? Were they also good people?" Harry whispered almost desperately.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon only told him bad things about his parents.
The man said nothing for a moment. "They were" he finally said "Your mother was a beautiful woman who was very smart and kind. She loved you very deeply" the man told him gently and Harry sniffed at that. The man continued but he looked away for a moment. "Your father…your father was a cousin of sorts of mine before we became almost as close as brother." The man said softly before halting briefly as his gaze went back to him "They were both good people"
Harry felt his eyes prickling. No one has ever told him anything good about his parents.
The man outstretched his hand towards Harry. "Come with me Harry and I promise you will never be treated like this again. You'll have a real home. What they did to you was very wrong."
Harry looked at the hand that was in front of him. Was this really happening?
"Why do you want me? I'm a freak." He whispered in a meek voice.
Something flickered across the man's face. Harry cringed as he reburied his face in his knees and closed his eyes.
No one helped freaks. No one helped Harry Potter. It was a trick.
'Maybe…maybe it's real' a voice whispered in his head that made him hopeful even more.
"You're not a freak Harry. What you are is special and they hated you for it. Your parents were special as well" Harry looked up from behind his knees as he stared at the man with wide eyes.
"And…" the man grinned slightly as his outstretched hand glowed slightly catching Harry by surprise.
Harry stared at the hand with shock on his face as wisps of something collected in the man's hand. The hairs on his body stood up as he felt something similar to what happened whenever he did something freakish.
Steam like wisps grew into tiny droplets of water before they swirled around the centre of the man's palm until they started to cling together and the tiny droplets of water grew into a ball of crystal blue water that started to take a shape once it froze over. Harry looked at the hand in wonder and awe as the ball turned to a crystal blue dragon like in the story books at the nursery!
The small dragon flapped its wings as it opened it mouth to show very sharp teeth.
"…I am special too" the man said breaking Harry of staring at the dragon and met the man's eyes that seemed almost to be glowing.
The man was a freak like him! Harry thought in wonder.
"Can you teach me how to do that?" Harry asked in excitement and wonder.
The man let off a small chuckle "I can teach you a whole lot more than that after we get you healed" the man wriggled his fingers and the dragon flew towards Harry who stretched out his hands and touched the dragon. It didn't even feel too cold!
The dragon nestled in Harry's tiny hands and Harry brought it to his chest. "Healed?" he asked distractedly as his eyes stared at the dragon with wonder.
"You…were hurt when your parents died." The man said gently and Harry's wide eyes snapped to him. The man's eyes looked they were two very small Suns with the way they were glowing "This will help you be able to do that" the man nodded to the dragon in his hands.
"So…would you like to come with me?" The man asked gaining Harry's attention again.
Harry looked at the golden haired man who looked at him kindly. He trembled as he shifted the ice dragon in his left hand before he stretched out his right and took the man's hand. The man smiled at Harry as Harry got up and was led out of the cupboard.
The man's eyes looked at Harry's neck and Harry crumpled into himself. "Harry, have a look at Mr Dursley" the man said to Harry and Harry turned to towards the living room as they arrived at there.
Harry's eyes widened as he looked at Uncle Vernon who was on the floor with his face kissing the floor and even snoring. He looked up at the man in awe. He was really strong if he was able to hurt Uncle Vernon like that! Aunt Petunia was holding Dudley tightly as she sat on the sofa scared.
The man looked down at Harry with an amused expression before he turned away from him.
"We're leaving now Petunia" The man told his aunt. The man walked towards the glass table and picked up some paper and a pen. Harry squinted. It was an odd pen with a feather on the top of the pen.
"Just take the boy and leave" Aunt Petunia screeched, her face reddening as her head reared up at them, fear and hate were clear to see in her eyes.
"We will, soon enough" the man's voice was harsh and cutting and Harry flinched slightly. It was so very different than before.
"But before we leave, you will bring down everything that belonged to his mother" The man told Aunt Petunia with a cruel curl of the lips who looked at the man with terrified eyes and was about to say something until the man began to glow slightly and Harry felt a kind of pressure on him.
Aunt Petunia squeaked as she clung onto Dudley tighter. "Mummy, I'm scared! I feel weird" Dudley almost wailed into Aunt Petunia's chest.
"The sooner you do as I ask, the sooner we can leave. Do not attempt to lie Petunia, we know very well you would not destroy the things that belonged to your sister that she should have received when your parents died. Your pettiness wouldn't allow you to" The man's voice dripped of contempt.
"NOW" he hissed out and Aunt Petunia bolted out of the room and went up the stairs with Dudley in her arms. Harry thought it funny because Dudley wasn't the smallest and Aunt Petunia was very thin making her struggle go up the stairs.
Harry's head swivelled towards the man "You can glow?" he breathed out in awe. It would have made reading in the cupboard a lot easier if he could glow too.
The man laughed slightly as he looked at Harry with a little bit of mirth in his eyes "The glowing is by accident." The man told Harry gently as he ruffled Harry's hair.
Harry didn't shy away. It felt…nice. Like how he imagined his dad would do it.
Aunt Petunia came down the stairs with a box in her hands without Dudley. She looked at the man scared but her face scrunched up in anger. "Here." She said as she threw the box in front of them. "Now LEAVE" she screeched as she bounced on her heels and pointed at the door.
The man looked at her with indifference before he pointed a finger at the box and it began to float, causing Aunt Petunia to shriek out of surprise. The man squeezed Harry's hand gently before he started to walk towards the door, the box floating in front of them and Harry walking next to him.
Before they left, the man turned to Aunt Petunia, a cool expression worn on his face that made Aunt Petunia shrink in on herself. "The fact you know little about what truly happened on the day your sister died is the only reason why I'm not harsher on you and your husband" the man said with a contemptuous tone. "If I were you, I'd take my advice and move far from Surrey. The protections of this place are gone leaving you unprotected. An ocean away would probably suffice. Dumbledore and the others wouldn't find you then." The man finished before he left, dragging Harry with him and leaving a fearful Aunt Petunia behind.
The door was shut loudly behind them as they walked down the path. "Who is Dum-bel-dore?" Harry asked with a scrunched up face as they walked towards the street in the middle of the night, the lights of the streetlamps faintly illuminating the neighbourhood.
The man let off a small smile as he turned to Harry. "Just a crooked man with a crooked nose" The man told Harry and Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion but he didn't ask anything more.
The box floated towards the man who tapped his finger on the box and it shrank and he pocketed it inside his robes.
Harry couldn't wait to be able to do all of this!
The man stopped for a moment as he looked down at Harry "I still haven't told you my name haven't I?" the man said with a small smile and Harry shook his head.
He'd forgotten after all the freakishness and seeing Uncle Vernon like that.
"My name is Klaus Hohenheim and I am a wizard, just like you." The man's eyes bored into Harry and Harry looked at the man with wide eyes. 'Wizard?' Does that mean… "Yes Harry, you are also a wizard once you're healed and you will be able to use magic in time, just like your grandparents, your parents and me." The man's eyes glowed slightly as Harry's brain whirled.
Magic…
His parents were magic too? The man squeezed Harry's hand and Harry looked up at the man…at Mr Hohenheim.
"Are you ready to go?" Mr Hohenheim asked Harry.
Harry looked behind him for the last time. He could see Aunt Petunia standing in the living room before she disappeared. Harry looked back up at the man who was waiting on his answer.
"You never have to come back here again Harry" The man told him gently and it was enough for Harry.
"Yes Mr Hohenheim I'm ready to go" Harry said in a whisper.
He didn't trust Mr Hohenheim completely but he knew his parents and he was a freak like him. Maybe freaks like them band together like he saw in the X-men comics?
"Call me Uncle Klaus, Harry." The man said with a small smile before a strange sensation washed over him and he felt like he was being squeezed in a tunnel and the last thing he heard was a soft crack.
