Redirection of the Light

If you recognize anything, it doesn't belong to me. Thanks to the Muse of Cliches

Ch 1

The sun breaks over England, its warm rays of light washing away the darkness brought forth by the night. In Surry, a young man near the age of 15 lays on his bed, his mind clouded with recent memories of a dark night. The night he witnessed triumph, loss, despair, fear, mortality and the grim knowledge that he had survived another confrontation with the darkest wizard of an era. His hand runs absently runs over a long scar on his arm. A scar caused from his blood being forcibly taken from him to return Voldermort to both his body and power.

Harry shook his head and ran a hand through his messy jet black hair. He got out of bed and pulled on an over sized t-shirt and jeans that had be held up with a belt, to look baggy on him. These were the only clothes his relatives allowed him, the hand me down of their near killer whale sized progeny. Harry's parents were both murdered by Lord Voldermort when Harry was an infant. Harry had been condemned to his relative's care by his Headmaster, a wizard known as Albus Dumbledore. Harry pulled on his glasses and looked at his face in the mirror. He was the spitting image of his father, but his eyes were clearly his mother's, a brilliant green.

Harry took care of his business in the bathroom and quietly made his way to the kitchen. Harry made an egg and two pieces of toast for himself before he started on his uncle's breakfast. When his uncle came down the stairs a half hour later with his wife following in her dressing gown, Harry was sitting at the table with two plates of eggs, ham, toast, coffee, tea, and condiments set out before him. He took some small joy in the shocked looks on their faces. He stood up as his uncle started to sputter, "I want to talk with both of you."

"What is this all about boy?" His Uncle Vernon was a large man with no neck and a mustache akin to a walrus. He worked at a drill company and hated anything abnormal. If it wasn't for fear of what freaks like his nephew would do to him, we would have sent Harry to an orphanage long ago. His boney horse faced wife, Petunia, would have agreed with him. Harry's mother was her sister and there was no loss of love between the two of them.

Harry poured himself a cup of tea, and then pulled out chair for his aunt, "Something has happened recently that you should be aware of. I know that we don't care for one another, but it would be wrong of you to be ignorant of possible danger."

"What is this about boy, what danger," Vernon held a nasty tone to his voice as he sat down. His temper was satisfied as he had some ham. Harry ignored his uncle and looked at his only blood relative, his aunt, "Do you know who Voldermort is?"

Petunia looked at him for a moment before some flicker of recognition crossed her face, "He's the freak that murdered your parents. That is what that horrible Albus man told me."

Normally, Harry would have taken offense to his headmaster being called horrible, but now he felt as though Dumbledore deserved some criticism. He nodded at her, "Yes. He was thought dead, but he somehow survived. At the end of last term, I was tricked and taken to a graveyard. Yes, I know Uncle Vernon, it is shame that I didn't stay."

He gave his uncle an icy stare as he said the last part, his uncle was shocked for a moment at the venom in his voice, but continued to eat. Harry turned back to his aunt, "A friend of mine was murdered and my blood was used in order to bring Voldermort back to his body and power. I barely escaped."

Harry showed his Aunt his scar. She gasped and Vernon sputtered, "Are we in danger, boy; because if we are, you're out of here."

"We can't," Petunia said. "That Albus man said that the boy would remain safe as long as he is here. That freak won't be able to reach him or us."

"Trust me," Harry said tapping his scar darkly, "he may not be able to get to me physically, but I may go as mental as you and Uncle Vernon claim I am. I wanted to tell you that Voldermort has returned and that you can't be as oblivious to my world as either of us would like."

Harry turned to his Uncle Vernon, "We both know that my parents had money. Money that you are unable to touch, and wouldn't want to if you could. You're continuing with Dudley's diet. I think that is a crock, but you've given me space in your house and have taken enough care of me to get me to my school."

"Yes, boy," Vernon sneered in agreement, his face slowly starting to turn red. Harry had been careful to avoid the specifics of his world to his uncle and was now treading dangerous waters with his next proposal, "If I was able to pitch in a small amount of money to the food bill, may I be allowed to eat decent helpings. I do a fair share of the cooking around here, and I do not complain about the chores you've given to me."

"You complain about Dudley's clothes that we graciously give you," Vernon commented. Harry forced himself not to smile as he spoke carefully, "I'm only here for a few months and I have attire that fits me for school. I wouldn't mind getting some pants that I didn't swim in, but I'm in no position to be making demands."

"Bloody right you aren't. If you're money is unable to be used by us, how do you expect to contribute it to my family's food bill?" Uncle Vernon looked triumphant. Harry stared at him stoically, "I am able to have it exchanged into pounds, but I can only do that to a small amount. I'm doing this so I don't look so scrawny or like I have an eating disorder. There's a bit of a rumor mill going about me. If I'm not a pampered little ponce, I'm a danger to my self and mad as a hatter. Do you agree to my terms?"

Harry's voice held in it no leeway. Vernon stared at him in amazement, as did Petunia. This was not the scrawny little queer who used to sleep in their broom closet under the stairs. Something in him had changed, and they were now in fear of him beyond his abnormality. Petunia looked over to her husband; they shared a glance before Vernon spoke, "Very well. Make sure to tell your Godfather about this."

He finished his breakfast, pecked Petunia on the cheek, grabbed his brief case, and left. Harry smiled to himself before looking at his Aunt, "If you'll give me a figure, I'll arrange to have the funds sent to you. Would you like me to clear these away before I do whatever chores you've set out for me?"

Harry's tone was a polite one that he knew unsettled his aunt. The past week since he had returned, he had silent, moody, and prone to wondering around the neighborhood at night. Harry knew that his relatives were expecting him to be cross with them. Harry played against their expectations and achieved what he sought, some measure of control. Aunt Petunia studied him with surprise before replying with some spite, "There is a water ban due to the drought, but that is no reason why you cannot paint the fence. Vernon has all you need in the garage. When you are done, you will accompany me to the grocery. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Harry replied evenly before setting his cup in the sink and walking off towards the garage. Surry was in the grip of a heat wave, but Harry didn't mind the work, it took his mind off of things. He took the brush and painted the fence white—up and down—in even strokes. He stopped for a moment when the white started to remind him of the pale look of horror etched on Cedric's face when he was murdered. Harry closed his eyes and focused on something other than one of the faces that haunted his sleep. He finished two hours later, drenched sweat. He had taken off his shirt and used it for a sweat rag. His skin was close to burnt by the sun, but he didn't mind. Harry put his supplies back in the garage and knocked on the door connecting it to the house.

"What," his aunt answered as she opened it. She looked at him sweating, sun burnt, and shirtless, "You're a mess."

"Surprising what two hours labor in the hot sun will do to a bloke, isn't it? Would you please give me a shirt to change into and a cool towel? We can then go to the grocery if you are ready. Please, Aunt Petunia."

Harry felt his temper flare and was glad that he only let the one remark slip. Aside from grief, he had been feeling anger towards his relatives. It was anger that allowed him to realize what he meant for them and their normalcy. He was the muggle equivalent to a house elf. He knew that many witches and wizards were domestically helpless without them. He also knew that the Durselys would be annoyed at their loss of his labor. They needed him in some sense, they had built themselves up to look better than him by comparison. Without him, the neighbors would start to look at them to scrutinize.

"Here," his aunt said to him as she tossed him a shirt and a cool towel. Harry wiped his forehead and upped body with the towel before pulling on the shirt. He was surprised to find that he wasn't swimming in it. He looked down to see that it had the logo of his uncle's drill company on it along with the date of a company picnic. A genuine smiled made its way across his face, "Thank You, Aunt Petunia."

"Mrs. Porkins says that that you resemble a begger," Petunia snapped before getting her purse. "Not that she knows a thing about them."

The trip to the grocery was a quiet one with Petunia grinding her teeth as Harry enjoyed the air conditioning. When they reached the grocery, Petunia looked at Harry as he shut his door, "Don't speak to anyone and don't go out of sight of my cart. If you steal anything boy, you'll be arrested and I won't bother to tell those freaks of yours where you went."

Harry nodded and grimaced to himself, "Knowing Dumbledore, he probably has some sort of tracking spell on me. He probably has a whole pensive filled with me mowing the grass."

The grocery was a small one with a deli at the far end of the store with produce to the right of it. It was brightly lit and clean, even to the standards of Aunt Petunia. Harry walked beside the cart, putting in it what his aunt directed him to. Her eye's darted back and forth, looking for anyone who would question her about Harry. They were at the end of an isle when Harry paused as he heard snatches of a conversation.

"I still don't understand why we can't grow most of this stuff in our backyard, I'm third in my year at Herbology."

"Two things: we are in a draught and we both agreed to keep our use of magic to a minimum. You have no idea how tempting it was to bring an elf with me."

"Boy, what is it," Petunia said as she pushed her cart right into Harry who had froze at the mention of Herbology. He held up his hand to stop her, but she pushed him forward and into the person coming around the isle. Harry looked at the person he had collided with. His hair was a shaggy sandy blonde with flecks of red going through it. It obscured his honey colored eyes. His face was slightly narrow one with a stoic smile. He wore a blue shirt and black trousers with boots. He was slightly taller than Harry.

"I know you," Harry said as he studied him. The guy studied him with interest for a moment, his eyes not going to the lightning shaped car on Harry's forehead, "Yeah, I'm in your year, but Ravenclaw. I guess Surry wasn't as normal as we thought."

"Are you ok, Jonas?" A tanned man who resembled the guy Harry ran into rounded the corner. His hair was cut short and set into spikes atop his head. He wore a black suit jacket and pants with a white t-shit. SIM was embroidered on his left breast. Harry thought he looked like some sort of secret agent, suave. Harry noticed his eyes flick towards his scar and a look of mild interest cross his face.

"Who are you and how do you know my nephew," Aunt Petunia snapped taking up her purse. She trembled in fear as the man pulled something out of his jacket. Harry reached for his wand which was tucked into the waist band of his trousers. Jonas stopped him with a nod. The man had a card in his hand; he presented it to a frightened Petunia, "My name is Jaeger Fawkes. I am an art dealer from America. I believe that my younger brother attends the same school as your nephew. Sorry to have startled you. We moved here to get away from that element."

His voice was smooth as he explained himself to Petunia. She was soon asking him if he would be able to cut her a deal on a Renoir reproduction. Harry shook his head for shock. Jonas just hung his head, "My brother is capable of seducing anything with two legs and a pulse, and now he's flirting with Harry Potter's Aunt."

"I thought Dumbledore wouldn't let anyone near Surry," Harry asked with some confusion. Jonas looked at him and shrugged, "My brother is a diplomat of sorts and my mailing address is with the Salem Institute of Magic. They're not going to know we're in this area until they come and visit us. We're connected to the Floo network, it's just a transatlantic one that routes our calls back through our old place in Salem."

"You have a secured connection?"

"My brother takes a few pages out of Mad Eye Moody's book of paranoia and defense," Jonas explained.

"It's all justifiable if they really are out to get you," Harry finished quoting the Auror who had been their instructor and impersonated by a Deatheater last term. Harry turned his attention back as Jaeger spoke to his aunt, "I have a rather full schedule of appointments this week, but perhaps I could have you and your nephew over for tea? Say this time next Monday?"

"Why yes, that would be lovely," Petunia said with a sweet voice. Harry scowled as she bid the Fawkes brothers good day. Harry gave Jonas a nod and followed his aunt as she muttered about various works of art and about how charming Jaeger seemed. Harry darkly mused if she realized that she was talking with a wizard, a freak like him, she despised him. A happy thought came to him, "At least I'll be able to get news from more than Ron, Mione, and Dumbledore."

A pig like grunt greeted Harry as he walked into number 4, his arms laden with groceries. The grunt issued from his cousin, Dudley. Dudley was a portly pig like tyrant with a mess of blonde hair. He was a thug in Harry's opinion, and in the eyes of his parents, he was a saint. Dudley looked up at him and sneered, "Did you bring back any food?"

"Why no, Dudders, these bags in my arms are filled with munitions," Harry replied in a bored tone of voice. Dudley complained that Harry was giving him cheek. Harry put away the groceries and set off to working making tea for them all. As they shared their tea, Harry noticed that Dudley was oblivious to the smile lighting up his mother's face. Dudley just devoured two cups of tea that were more cream with sugar than tea, and seven small sandwiches. He excused himself by saying that he had prior engagements. Harry wondered who he and his gang were going to beat up next. Harry waited till he left and had another little talk with his aunt, "Excuse me, Aunt Petunia, but how will Uncle Vernon feel about you associating with my kind?"

She gave him a furious look, "They might be like your kind, but they have enough decency to look like the rest of us normal people and abide by our rules. Notice how they didn't go about blasting into people's homes?"

"Mr. Weasely should have fixed their memories," Harry thought darkly of his friend's father who had some difficulty with the Dursely's last year. He studied his Aunt for a moment, "My kind are as varied as another. Some of them you wouldn't recognize, while some would kill them selves at the thought of not wearing robes. I'm simply implying that you may want to omit some details from Uncle Vernon."

"I can't believe I'm about to suggest this," Harry thought before speaking. "Say that I bumped into him and his wallet fell out. You returned it to me and said that in exchange for not thinking me a thief, you would be willing to buy a painting from him. A high quality one."

Harry watched his Aunt's face light up as she went over the story to herself. Harry knew his relatives enough to know that any story that cast him in a dark light was a good one. She put down her tea cup, "Yes that will do nicely. Once you are done cleaning this mess, you are to write to those people."

"As you say, Aunt Petunia," Harry said dully before finishing his sandwich and tea. He cleared away the tea setting and did the dishes before going up to his small bedroom. There were various locks on the door and a cat flap at the bottom for food. Harry would be lying if he claimed this place as his home. A soft hoot greeted Harry as he walked through the door. It came from his snowy white Owl, Hedwig.

"Hullo girl. Did you sleep well?" Harry smiled as she flew out of her cage and onto his arm. He felt her gently nip his ear before flying onto the edge of his desk. Harry took a seat and wrote two letters.

Padfoot,

I'm doing splendidly. I know that you don't want any cheek from me and probably think that I'm not over the events of the third task. I'm not over them but I'm slowly starting to accept that they occurred. Please send me any news that you can. I'm not a child. Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley are welcomed to think of me as such, but I would be hurt if you thought of me in the same light.

I've come to some small agreement with the Muggles. I hope Buckbeak is doing well. Give him a ferret for me. Also, if you get the chance, ask Moony what he recalls about the last name Fawkes? I won't go looking for trouble, but that doesn't mean it won't come my way, anyways.

Harry

Griphook

I, Harry James Potter, wish to have the equivalent of 200 pounds in English Muggle currency withdrawn from the vault held in trust for me. I wish for this transaction to be kept between you and me. I also wish to inquire about sitting down for a meeting with you to discuss my financial status. I realize that this may seem highly irregular, but you'll find I'm any thing if not irregular.

Enclosed with this letter is the key to vault. It is to be kept with my familiar at all times.

Harry J. Potter.

Harry read over both letters. He concentrated for a moment and was pleased when his vault key dropped to the ground in front of him. He scooped the small golden key up. Hedwig's large amber eyes surveyed him with interest as he spoke to her, "I want you to deliver this letter to Sirius first. Don't wait for a response. I want to you to take this key and letter to Gringotts. Don't let them keep the key. Understand?"

She bobbed her head before sticking out her leg. Harry tied both letters to it and placed the key in her beak. He opened the window and looked out of it. She sailed off into the clear blue sky.

--

Severus Snape sat down after a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. The meeting had tired him out, much of it involved Dumbledore casting his influence over older members of the Order. He was amused to see that not every member of the Order was spellbound by Dumbledore's influence. The two eldest Weasley children sat discussing Dumbledore's security watch of the Potter boy. Black and Lupin sat beside each other, neither of them was speaking, but Severus could tell that their thoughts were on the Potter boy.

"Will you be staying for supper Severus," Molly Weasley asked him. He glared at her for a moment before rising from his seat, "I think not. I have other business to attend to. Black I would like a word with you for a moment."

Sirius Black scowled at him before rising from his seat. Severus mentally smirked at the sight of his hand letting go of the Lupin's. He walked past Snape and led the way to a small sitting room. Severus cast several charms for privacy before speaking, "Tell me Black, have you given any thought to your dear godson's future? What do you intend to happen to him should you die?"

Sirius looked as though he wanted to murder Severus, his hand clenching his wand, "Harry is one of three people I care for in this world. He's my godson. Moony is my mate, and Tonks is the only blood left that I will claim. Since the only thing I seem likely to die from here is boredom, I'm not too concerned for their futures."

"Yes, of course. If you had thought of the future a bit more, perhaps Pettigrew wouldn't have his lips attached to the Dark Lord's posterior as we speak," Severus said icily, his dark eyes narrowing. Black's gray eyes burned with a cold fury in them, "What concern is it of yours?"

Severus smirked, the corners of his mouth meeting with the sheets of black hair on either side of his face, "I merely wondered if the Headmaster would gain full control of one of the oldest and purest bloodlines known to our kind should you die?"

He watches as the anger left Sirius's face and was soon replaced with a dumbfounded expression that seemed more at home on it in his opinion. Sirius stuttered for a moment. Severus undid his charms and the door swung open, "I believe the eldest Weasley spawn works for Gringott's. He should be able to set something discreet up for you."

Black looked at him startled for a moment and swept out of the room. Severus recast his charms and sunk to the ground as a memory not quite his own returned to him.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, last of the Balcks, leave all possessions to my godson, Harry James Potter. They are to be held in trust for him by Albus Dumbledore until he comes of age."

The order members gathered for the reading of Black's will fell silent as Remus Lupin gasped at his mate's declaration. Albus Dumbledore went over to a broken young Harry. He bent down and whispered something in Harry's ear. Harry nodded and signed something in front of him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he took the paper and clasped Harry on the shoulder in a grandfatherly fashion.

Severus knew then that Potter had handed over Black's legacy and powers to Dumbledore. He had signed away his freedom.

Severus felt as though his whole insides were being chocked. A burning came to his left arm; the Dark Lord was calling for him. Severus rose and pulled from his robes a white mask. As he slid it over his head, his persona became one of stone with his last thought before disapperating being, "I shall not be the slave of two masters as these dreams would show me."