I own nothing.
The Two Princes of Hogwarts
-Chapter Zero:
"Attention guests, is there a Mister Potter present?" Harry Potter blinked groggily and looked around the beach. "Mister Potter?" The man calling his name was wearing the uniform of the resort they were staying at. Probably not a Death Eater.
"Here!" Harry managed as he got an arm free of his partner and raised it up, startling Amalie from where she had been sleeping with her head resting on his chest and almost certainly giving him a weird tan line. . .again.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know." Harry sat up as the man made his way over.
"You have a message, sir," the man stated. "The British embassy is looking for you."
"The British. . .embassy?" Harry sputtered. He glared at his God father. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do nothing," Sirius Black slurred.
"The embassy?" Harry repeated, glancing at the worker.
"The embassy sir," the man confirmed as he held out a piece of paper. "There is a phone in the bar."
"Thank you." Harry groped around for a moment, causing Amalie to squeak as he made a wrong grab before he found his drink and took a sip of the lukewarm and rather watered-down contents.
"Why is the embassy looking for you?" Amalie asked.
"I wonder," Harry growled, glaring at his guardian.
"I didn't do anything!" Sirius insisted, finally coming to enough to use proper grammar. Harry clambered to his feet and made a fairly wavey beeline towards the bar set a bit back from the beach.
"What can I do for you?" the bartender asked.
"I need your phone and something for a headache, please," Harry ordered. The man's eyebrow rose and he ducked under the bar only to come back up with a bottle of water and Aspirin. Harry stared at him blankly for a long moment. "Cute."
"I thought that was pretty funny myself," the man admitted. He grabbed the phone off the back shelf and placed it in front of Harry before setting about mixing up something rather violently pink. Harry dialed the number he had been given and entered the extension when prompted.
"Marsha Stewart," a woman's voice stated.
"Hi. My name is Harry Potter," Harry stated, the English words feeling a tad off after months of French. "I heard that the embassy was trying to find me."
"Mister Potter!" Marsha exclaimed as the bartender set down a drink in front of Harry. He placed a few francs on the counter despite their open tab. It had been a pretty decent joke. "Yes. Your family came to us to try to find you."
"My family?" Harry asked in confusion.
"A Petunia and Vernon Dursley?" Marsha supplied.
"Oh, them," Harry grunted.
"Are. . .are you not close?" Marsha asked.
"No. I am no longer related to them as far as I and, probably they, are concerned. Currently, I'm overseas with my new legal guardian," Harry said. "The Dursleys are trying to find me? Why?"
"There's been some sort of incident," Marsha stated. "Your cousin Dudley is severely ill and is in the Royal London Hospital. Your aunt and uncle asked us to find you because they said that the whole thing seemed unnatural. They seemed to think that you would know something."
"I see," Harry replied as he sipped his drink. "If you'll let them know, I'll be along within the next few hours."
"Few hours?"
"Thank you, Miss Stewart." Harry hung up the phone just as Sirius joined him.
"What's wrong?"
"My cousin Dudley is in the hospital, my aunt and uncle seem to think this has something to do with magic," Harry stated
"Do you believe them?"
"I believe that they wouldn't contact me unless they were desperate," Harry said. "We need to go to London now."
(:ii:)
"Right this way Mister Potter."
"Thank you," Harry replied as the nurse opened the door for him. He stepped into the room and hesitated as two sets of eyes turned on him.
"Harry," Petunia breathed. She looked pale and gaunt and her eyes were red.
"Boy," Vernon added. He didn't look much better. Harry raised an eyebrow at their lack of reaction to the tattoos carved into the knuckles of his left hand and the spiral of similar marks that appeared from his right sleeve and ended halfway down his forearm.
Things were truly bad.
"Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia," he allowed with a nod of greeting before glancing at the last person in the room. Dudley lay on the stiff hospital bed without even moving. His great mass continued to rise and fall without hesitation.
"They found him like this," Petunia said. "They don't know what's wrong with him."
"I see," Harry stormed over to the immobile mass and bent down to rest his face near Dudley's mouth while pushing two fingers into his throat. The young man didn't even twitch as Harry felt a strong pulse and slow, calm breaths on his cheek. He moved his hand down to his cousin's sternum and ground his knuckles into the thinly covered bone. Dudley's breathing pattern didn't even shift a little bit.
"Why are his eyes taped?" Harry asked, looking at the pieces of gauze over the boy's eyes.
"Well, Mister Potter." Harry turned and stared at the man in a white lab coat who had just entered the room. "He seems unable to close them and we did that to keep his eyes from drying out." The man studied Harry carefully. "You seem to be a bit young to have medical training, let alone enough training to recognize something I don't."
"I'm not trained," Harry said as he straightened up. "I've just had an interesting life and I've picked up a few things."
"I see," the man stated, studying Harry's face and shooting a suspicious glance at the Dursleys. The fresh black eye probably didn't help. "You aren't trained?"
"Nothing official," Harry confessed.
"I am Doctor Kumari. I am in charge of Dudley's case. I was rather curious when the Dursleys insisted that you might know something."
"Interesting life," Harry repeated he peeled the gauze away. Dudley's eyes sprung open immediately and Harry stared into them. Nothing at all stared right back. "No."
"Mister Potter?" Kumari asked as he moved to Harry's side. He glanced down at Dudley. "His pupils are round, equal sized and reactive to light. We've run CAT scans. There's nothing wrong with him neurologically other than a complete lack of activity in the cerebrum, the likes of which I have never seen."
"Sirius!" Harry snapped. "Do you know how to contact the ministry?"
"The ministry?" Sirius asked in surprise as he poked his head in through the doorway. He had been quite adamant about not seeing the Dursleys for fear that he might do something to put himself right back into Azkaban. "What's wrong Harry?"
"This is something to do with your kind!" Petunia accused shrilly.
"Does anyone care to explain this?" Kumar demanded loudly. "Is Mister Potter involved in some sort of lifestyle you don't approve of?"
"Oh, you can bet we don't approve of. . ." Vernon began loudly.
"Everything all right folks?" a new, very authoritative voice asked calmly. They all turned and saw a bobby standing next to Sirius, who was doing a decent job of camouflaging himself against the wall in response to the appearance of law enforcement. "You lot are being rather disruptive to all the other nice ladies and gentlemen here." He stared them all down until his eyes lit upon Harry. They traced over his face and an eyebrow rose before ending on his forehead. "Oh. Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?"
"A Harry Potter," Harry admitted, "maybe." The man chuckled. "Who's asking?"
"With an answer like that, almost certainly," he stated.
"What have you done, Harry?" Sirius demanded.
"Nothing the fuzz should care about," Harry insisted. "This seems to be something you've done Sirius."
"I'm from a mixed family," the officer stated. "My brother is an officer on your side. You've been a rather naughty boy, riling up his boss and making life difficult for the rank and file. Though my brother seems to think it's no fault of your own."
"Okay, yeah. I'm that Harry Potter. Can you call your brother right now? This is something very serious. Drop my name, that should do it."
"What is all this about officer?" Kumari demanded.
"Sorry sir. This is a government matter and requires quite a high level of discretion."
"This boy is my patient," Kumari growled. "If anyone knows anything that could help him than I need to know it as well."
"Of course, sir," the officer replied. "I just need to make a call and some government folks will be right along to explain things."
(:ii:)
Amelia swept into the hospital room and fixed her target with her best glare. "Where the hell have you been?" she demanded.
"On vacation overseas with my guardian and my girlfriend," Harry stated.
"You didn't tell anyone you were leaving," Amelia accused.
"I'm sorry," Sirius cut in. "Do I have to alert the government when I take my legal charge on holiday?" Amelia scowled at the man.
"Fine," she said finally.
"No, I wasn't being sarcastic," Sirius admitted. "I've never been a legal guardian before. Was I supposed to tell the government?"
"Enough of this," Harry announced before anyone else could say anything. "This is my cousin Dudley Dursley. His soul is gone."
"Soul?" a darker-skinned man in a long white coat barked.
"Kingsley," Amelia stated immediately. The large man stepped into the room. "Take the doctor somewhere discreet and explain the situation to him."
"Yes ma'am," Kingsley replied. "Doctor, is there somewhere we can speak without being overheard?"
"This way," the man stated, though he didn't look pleased at being dismissed. Kingsley followed after him and closed the door.
"You're going to kill him," a tall, long necked woman whispered.
"What?" Amelia sputtered, caught completely off guard. "No!"
"These are the Dursleys, Petunia and Vernon," Harry stated. "They're Dudley's parents and, formerly, my legal guardians. They know."
"I see," Amelia replied as she pulled out her wand and cast a quick privacy charm.
"You're one of them," the man rumbled.
"They do not like magic," Harry added.
"Then how did they raise a magical child?" Amelia asked in confusion.
"I wonder," Sirius growled, glaring at the pair. The man moved in front of the woman protectively and raised big, meaty fists.
"The past is past. The present is now," Harry interrupted, "and the present is my cousin missing one soul. If we could all focus on that."
"What do you mean he doesn't have a soul?" Petunia demanded. "Where could it have gone? How do we get it back?"
"We don't," Harry stated. The couple buckled at his words and the certainty behind them. "I only know about one soul eating monster Madame Bones."
"You don't know anything Potter," Amelia stated. She stormed over to the unresponsive boy and stared into his eyes. Her skill at legilimency was rusty but it showed her enough and what it showed her was nothing, possibly the most horrifying thing she had ever encountered. So lost in the abyss was she that when a hand landed on her shoulder she turned violently. In a moment her eyes locked with Harry Potter's and tidal wave of emotions almost took her breath away before both their gazes darted downwards. Well, nothing had been the most horrifying.
"I may not be a legilimens, but I can tell when something that should be there. . .isn't," Harry said calmly. "I've seen it before. Hell, I've felt it before."
"What did this?" Vernon demanded.
"A creature called a dementor," Harry said. "Something that should have been nowhere near Little Whinging."
"You can't prove that," Amelia stated. "This needs to be investigated."
"Who did this?" Petunia asked quietly.
"Potter is accusing a creature. . ."
"You're some kind of copper," Petunia interrupted. "Cops don't show up to deal with animals. Dog catchers do." She pointed an accusing finger at Harry. "You think someone did this." Harry's shocked expression betrayed his feelings and Amelia automatically upgraded her opinion of the woman's intelligence. "Why? Why my son?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted, "but I'm going to find out."
"You will not," Amelia said firmly. "You are a schoolboy. I will order my men to begin an investigation."
"And what happens to our son?" Vernon rumbled.
"We can have him transferred to a magical hospital," Amelia stated. "He will receive the best care, but, if what Potter thinks is true, there is no recovery."
"And why don't we go to the news?" Vernon demanded. Amelia sighed. If only they had told her about all the grey areas when she had taken this damned job.
"I won't stop you," she said after a moment. "I'm not going to remove your memories unless you ask. You are owed that much for the tragedy that has befallen you. You can go to the news. You'll probably be treated favorably as grieving parents seeking an answer for their son's unknown illness. No one will believe you."
"Someone has to," Petunia insisted. "No one will be able to explain Dudley!"
"Medical mysteries happen every day," Amelia stated. "Ninety nine percent have nothing to do with magic. Your son will be a mystery and eventually, the public will have had their fill of your claims and begin mocking you." The man wheeled about on Harry.
"This is because of you!" he roared, his face turning scarlet. "You and whatever your parents did to get themselves murdered!"
"I thought they died in a car crash," Harry sneered. "The drink got to them, wasn't that the story? Under the influence and without a care for their child in the backseat? Shame they got his face cut up, isn't it?" The man took a step forward and the last Potter immediately squared up. "This might be because of me, but you will not touch me. If you try, you won't be the first person I've killed in self-defense. Want to play Vernon? I've got plenty of memories to pay you back for."
"You and your fucking magic," the man spat.
"I don't need magic to kick your legs out from under you and stomp your head into the ground," Harry shot back. "When was the last time you had a fight, Vernon? A decade ago? Two? Mine was yesterday. I got my ass kicked, but I broke her jaw in three places and her arm in two. She is much scarier than you. Your wife lost her son. Do you want her to lose her husband?"
"Vernon," Petunia whispered, resting a hand on the man's shoulder and shooting furtive looks at Amelia. After a moment the man stepped back and Amelia took her chance to further deescalate the situation.
"I can remove your memories," she offered. "I can take this whole conversation away and you can go back to hoping that your son will one day wake up."
"No," Vernon whispered. "No false hope." He turned on Harry. "Boy, you will find the people responsible for this."
"I will," Harry agreed.
"You will not," Amelia snapped. The younger man glanced at her and Amelia didn't take a step
back as she remembered the emotions that her accidental legilimency of the boy had revealed. "I will order a complete investigation of this incident. I will keep you abreast of what we find." She turned to the Dursleys. "I am sorry for your loss and I will find you the truth." The two stared at her for a long moment.
"Boy," the man rumbled.
"I'll send you the heads of those responsible," Harry stated. Amelia shot him an annoyed glance. The certainty on his face would have been disturbing on a grown man. On a boy, halfway through his teens, it was nightmarish. Vernon nodded and Harry turned to leave, Amelia moved to follow him.
"Harry." The young man paused and glanced back at his aunt. "Don't be quick about it," Petunia said firmly.
"Dudley's name will be the last thing they say, hear and feel," Harry promised. He stepped out of the room and Amelia closed the door behind them.
"You will stay out of this Potter," Amelia ordered. "If I find out that you are interfering with the investigation, I will see you locked up. Do you understand me, Potter? Potter?" The young man was staring back into the room, his expression unreadable.
"Harry?" Sirius ventured.
"I don't like them," Harry stated. "I think I might hate them. I was so miserable while I stayed with them that I was starting to think that I would never be happy. Despite that, they never asked for me and I was forced upon them. They could have just abandoned me. Maybe they should have."
"Harry," Sirius began, the set of his jaw tightening.
"I never thought I would see them again," Harry mused, ignoring the man. "I've been so happy; I haven't even thought of them. I don't know if I ever would have. They would have continued their life as a happy family and I would have done the same. Now this. This is my fault and they don't deserve it."
"This isn't your fault," Sirius said quickly.
"We don't even know what this is," Amelia added. Despite her annoyance at the young man, she could see that this was deeply affecting him.
"Of course, we know what this is," Harry argued, finally turning to glare at her. "Some of us are just willing to admit it. This is a dementor attack on a muggle in a muggle neighborhood. Not just any muggle, my cousin and not just any creature, a monster that everyone knows affects me worse than anything else." He took a deep breath. "Someone with my address sent a dementor to my old neighborhood and it tracked down my blood relation." He shot Sirius a wiry smile. "I'm going to guess you never updated my address of residence, right? Do you even have a residence in this country?"
"Uh," Sirius managed. "I think I still own a home on Grimmauld Place. I should really make sure that it's mine before I try to move in."
"All property was returned to you when you were exonerated," Amelia stated, "not that we could find half of your properties in the first place. You can thank that for Narcissa Malfoy not having sold them."
"I'll be sure to send Cissy a nice letter thanking her for not being able to do anything," Sirius replied
"So, yeah. This was an assassination attempt on me," Harry said. "An attempt by someone who has access to dementors."
"You're implying that the government of this country is trying to kill you," Amelia stated.
"Are you?" Harry ventured.
"No!" Amelia snapped. She frowned as everyone in the ward looked at her. She glared them into submission and they quickly went about their duties. Amelia gripped her wand in her pocket and cast a silent privacy charm. "Aurors are not trying to kill you."
"Aurors make up a small part of the government, right?" Harry asked.
"The doctor is taken care of," Kingsley commented as he joined them. "What did I just walk into?"
"I'll see you around Madame Bones," Harry said. He glanced at Sirius. "Let's go. I need a drink."
"And just where do you think you're going?" Amelia demanded.
"Back to my girlfriend in France," Harry stated. "You know I'll be back for school in a month or so. I guess I'll see you there. Or, if you'd like me to stay here and poke around. . ." Amelia glared at him. "I thought not." The two men turned and walked away.
"Okay," Kingsley rumbled. "So, did he just imply the government was trying to kill him, or am I inferring too much?"
"Dementors," Amelia stated. "Can you think of anything else that can take a soul?"
"Certain old dark magic that should be lost to time," Kingsley stated. "That leads us back to the problem of this being an attack and a high level one at that, especially considering most dark wizards and witches love the modern Unforgivables and the only people I can think of using bizarre ancient death magic are the Unspeakables when they're showing off."
"Take your best and find out everything you can," Amelia ordered. "I don't want to hear a word about this. If a single DMIE lackey shows up, I will be. . .dissapointed."
"No dummies. Yes, Madame Bones." The man was always good at gauging her mood.
"And find me a magizoologist that can either keep their mouth shut or is too oblivious to be working for me and send them to Azkaban to study dementors," Amelia added. "Call it preparation for a worst-case scenario if anyone asks, though I believe you should be able to keep people from thinking of asking."
"You think there's a magizoologist crazy enough to want to go to Azkaban?" Kingsley asked.
"Tell them it's to study dementors," Amelia ordered. "I'm fairly sure nobody has studied them since we figured out how to drive them off or have them guard Azkaban."
"We're going to have to beat them off with a stick," Kingsley groaned.
"And do it quick," Amelia added. "There are parties worse than the DMIE that might want to get involved."
"You think Potter is going to try to intervene in this?" Kingsley asked.
"You think he won't?" Amelia countered. "But no, he's not the one I'm most worried about." She glared at the man. "Keep Albus Dumbledore out of this."
Fate had just handed Amelia a length of rope and she didn't want anyone to interfere while she tried to get any interested parties to start tying themselves a new necktie.
(:ii:)
Sirius frowned as he watched Harry take a long drag from his flask. It was the first appearance of the container since they had left the United Kingdom months ago. "Needed something with an extra kick?"
"Yeah," Harry murmured in a distant tone. They had begged off the women for the night. Amalie, especially, had not been thrilled.
"This isn't your fault Harry," Sirius stated. The younger man snorted and took another sip as he stared out onto Monte Carlo.
"If I wasn't around. . ."
"Wouldn't countless more people have been tortured and or killed by Voldemort?" Sirius interrupted. Harry's eyebrows rose. He turned slowly to look at the man. "Look, I'm just saying. You having been born meant the end of a reign of terror that lasted over a decade. The number of lives you've saved, of families you've saved, is too high to count. You're actually net good for the human race. Your cousin was attacked because he was related to you. That just tells me that the Death Eaters in the government are still pissed that you ruined their good time. It also tells me that they think you're still stopping them from going back to what they love."
"Wow." Harry sipped his flask as he contemplated that. He screwed the container's top on and set it down. "Huh." The moment was ruined as the door to their hotel room burst open causing them both to jump.
"Alright!" Sophie announced as she and Amalie exploded into the room. "You've had your time to brood."
"I'm not brooding!" Harry insisted as his girlfriend swept across the room to hug herself into his side.
"Well, I mean, you've started to stop brooding. . .kind of," Sirius admitted. Harry stared at the man flatly, his arm automatically adjusting to hold Amalie. "Look, I know your default when bad things happen is to go quiet and want to be alone, but that's not healthy."
"Actually, that is a normal response to stressors," Sophie corrected. "There is no one size fits all response to trauma. Some people need to be on their own and some people need to be surrounded by others. The difference is in how an individual unpacks their trauma. Some people need to work through it themselves and some people need to be encouraged and guided through it."
"Maybe I need to work through it on my own," Harry stated in a way that only the truly unkind would call a sulk.
"I've spent way too much time in your head," Sophie stated fondly. "You don't work through things on your own. You dwell on things. Dwelling is not healthy and it does not lead to resolution. It leads to a downward spiral."
"So, what's your plan then?" Harry demanded.
"Well," Amalie began as she snuggled deeper into his arms, "we were planning on dragging you out into a night of fun until you are so annoyed that you are ready to talk about your feelings or you just accept what happened and begin to move on."
"I'm not okay with this," Harry stated.
"Of course you're not," Sophie stated as she patted Harry's cheek affectionately. "You're a traumatized individual who has never been given any valid strategies to cope with what you've gone through."
"Other than drinking alcohol," Amalie stated as her arms tightened around Harry.
"It's medicine," the last Potter argued weakly.
"And medicine only goes so far in mental trauma," Sophie said. "The rest of the way is in talking, which you suck at."
"I can talk!" Harry insisted. The grin that spread across Sophie's face told him that he had just made a major mistake. He could almost feel the teeth of the beartrap sinking into his leg.
"Oh?" the older blonde wondered, "you can talk? Excellent. Why don't we put that to the test? We can start now if you don't feel like going clubbing." Harry sighed and glanced at his girlfriend. She smiled sunnily at him.
"Don't worry sweetie, I'm not on that level of emotional manipulation." Harry sighed in relief. "Yet." Harry tried to withdraw his sigh of relief.
"Yay," he hissed.
"Now, out with it!" Sophie ordered.
"Well, as far back as I can remember. . ." Harry began.
"Maybe a little more recent," Sophie interrupted.
"Oh no. You started this. You're going to listen to it," Harry stated as he poured himself and his girlfriend a glass of brandy. "All of it. Good thing we have the entire night free."
"Turnabout is fair play," Amalie admitted as she accepted her glass and they all sat down for a long talk.
"Yes. Yes it is," Harry agreed. "Now, if I can begin without being interrupted. . ." Sophie and Sirius poured themselves rather large drinks. "Excellent! As far back as I can remember. . ."
-End
-Author's drunken rambles. Oh. Hello there. Today's vocabulary lesson will be: tonal dissonance. Why? Because this shit turned out a lot more serious than I meant it to. I know I got a little serious in the last one a couple of times, but sheesh. Swinging right out the gates. God, if I do too much serious shit people are actually going to start having expectations for me beyond crack gibberish.
Expectations. What a nightmare.
Alrighty, sequel to Si Vis Pacem Parabellum go! Well, prequel chapter to sequel story go! Prologue? Prologue. Yesssssssss.
So, we're going to try to tone down the rambling this time. I don't know how long this will last, if at all, but people did point it out last time and I do agree. However, no I am not going to go back and delete my rambling in previous stories. The positive response vastly outnumbers the negative. Sorry, even if I do agree.
One guy suggested a blog. Are those still things? Do people blog? How blog? Because I sure as shit don't have a twitter. Uncle Jack, much like Machete, don't tweet. Especially now.
Also, hey to any new readers. Uh. So, this is not going to be as serious as this chapter implies. Probably. Go read the last one. You'll get the idea. Then you'll get whether you're going to stick around or not. Although, this chapter is almost nothing like the last story.
Or what the hell ever. I mean, people nowadays love to keep following things they hate just so they can continue their complaints long after the thing they don't like gets forced off the air before it even premiers.
I don't get it, but you do you baby. Ima do me. And as a wise man; well a screamy one, once said: we won't do each other. Probably.
Love you. Fuck you.
-Uncle Jack out!
P.S. Kicking this shit off on my twentieth year of knocking around this site. God damn I have been doing this a while. Too bad I nuked my first stories or you could have gone back and compared. Actually, no. Not too bad. Fuck those things. You know what? They never existed. While You Were Sleeping was the first. No. Don't go read that. It's trash.
Also proving that you can brute force your way into basic competency as a story teller. If I can do it, you can do it. It just might take two decades, a lot of soul searching, too many half-baked stories with no real thought put into where I wanted them to go, self-introspection, negative reviews, constructive reviews, prolonged absences and alcohol before you write something you're proud of, but I believe in you.
Just like some of my earliest reviewers did for me for some reason.
Wow. I still remember my first review. It was on my first story that no longer exists.
That was a mind blower. Some person on the internet found the shit I had written, read it and had gone out of their way to write a review telling me that I shouldn't quit.
Here's to you. This is all your fault. You crazy mother fucker.