Disclaimer: I own nothing, Harry Potter, Voldy, the Weasleys, all of them are J.K. Rowling's. If they were mine, I'd know how to spell their names and things better. As it is, it's quite possible I'm butchering some things, please forgive me, I'm only human.
A/N: this is slightly, or maybe not so slightly, AU. I don't have a beta reader, in fact, I am fairly new to the site and am not even sure I know what a beta reader is exactly. I assume s/he'd be an editor, basically. Hopefully it won't make a difference. And I can't really think of anything else, so here you go, hope you like it
Alternate/full Summary: The wizarding world is in disarray; schools everywhere are closing as students are kept home by their parents, Dumbledore is MIA presumed dead, and Hogwarts is struggling to operate under Minerva and Severus' strained cooperation. But it seems the menace found in Lord Voldemort and his followers is finally at a close. Unfortunately, Harry seems to have disappeared at the same time, so the question now is, what happened to the wizarding world's hero?
Prologue
Harry stood quietly in the Warden's Office, waiting patiently for the somewhat intimidating, if decidedly kind, curator to make it to his own appointment. It had been a couple weeks since he'd been brought here from what had remained of number four private drive, and he didn't fit in terribly well; but at least he didn't seem to be getting in much trouble. Reflecting back on the past year or so, the boy was fairly certain he counted himself lucky to be where he is now, though he often found himself confused in general, even if he didn't know what he was confused about.
After Voldemort's rise to power, the level of danger and panic among the people had quickly begun to heighten until parents had begun to take their children out of school. Even with the Minister of Magic steadfastly refusing to admit that the dark lord had truly returned, just about everyone knew better and the community had fallen into something of a wartime way of life. Families wanted to be together during times like these, not knowing when or if they'd ever get a chance to see each other again. Some, many Hogwarts' parents included, felt their children were safer at the school however, and settled for weekend visits and daily owls. In fact, Dumbledore had been considering keeping the school open over the summer vacations as a safe haven for some of the children, and perhaps, considering the low attendance already, their families as well.
That idea was put to an early grave when death-eater attacks had suddenly taken a leap in frequency, cruelty, and proximity less than a month after the suggestion had been made to teachers and parents. Shortly thereafter, the great castle itself fell under attack. There'd been a fierce, strong resistance even by the students, and when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, the side of the light had prevailed, though at a grizzly, heavy price. The school was closed within the week and students sent home to be with their families, many of which then went into hiding. Harry, of course, had been sent back to the Dursley's, much to the displeasure of all involved.
The war continued to wage for months, and the school remained closed until late in the fall. Contact with Dumbledore had been lost by all parties and he'd been declared missing in action, presumed dead. Minerva contacted the rest of the staff when she'd deemed it relatively safe and calm enough and they'd arranged a meeting. They deliberated for weeks, and planned for a month or so before, at last, the (formerly deputy) headmistress made a tenuous pact with Severus and the two put together a plan to open the school. Few chose to come back, but for those who did, they would continue to teach.
In the mean time, Harry'd lost contact with his friends. Many had gone into hiding, gone missing, or died. Others, unbeknownst to him, had been instructed or chose of their own volition to pretend they didn't know him or that they hadn't any contact information, in hopes of protecting him, or themselves and their families, or both. The teachers were uncertain whether to enroll him or not, fearing to take him out of the protections of his home and put him where he'd easily be found, but also wondering if the castle and further instruction wouldn't be a better choice. Ultimately, with communication as uncertain as it had become, he'd been left with his relatives, and with an attack on his home, he'd ended up here, in a muggle orphanage.
His aunt and cousin had died, and his uncle critically injured. Harry himself had suffered little damage, as he'd been in the cupboard, assumed hiding from what was, as the cover story went, a random act of terrorist bombing on a civilian residential area. The like, which were, not surprisingly, death eater attacks, had become somewhat common in Europe and some other places in the world. Japan, Australia, The continental U.S. and Canada, and places in China had also come under attack, though Africa, Eastern Europe, the Middle East, South America, and most of the rest of the world was mostly free of Voldemort's attention. For now. The boy had staid in the hospital with his uncle for a few days, until it was determined by the muggle authorities that he had no where to go, and it was unlikely that Vernon would regain consciousness. True to suspicion, the man died just a few days later still and his nephew was taken as a ward of the government.
Harry jumped a bit as he was startled out of his thoughts by the warden's entrance. Turning away from the window he'd been staring out, he went to stand before the man, Mr. Carter. He was tall, and fit, even a bit burly or gruff maybe, not particularly handsome, but not unattractive. His cloths weren't those of a rich man, but he dressed nicely enough, and cleanly. Similarly, he was cleanly shaven with a neat, short haircut. Harry knew he enjoyed outdoors activities, like hiking and camping, as he often presented opportunities for the children here to go on short fieldtrips of that sort, but Harry never went. Of course, he had only been there about three weeks, and it was quite cold this time of year, so not many did jump at such chances.
Realizing Mr. Carter was attempting to speak with him, he pulled his thoughts back to the then and there, listening quietly as he stared at the pen in the man's hand. "There are some people who'd like to meet you." He was saying, "I think it'd be a good idea. I know them, they are nice people." His voice was quiet, a little rough sounding, but not unkind. He was not an unkind man. He didn't make Harry speak when he didn't feel like speaking, which so far had been his entire time here; didn't make him do very much, just a few chores here and there, like everyone else, even giving him what he considered to be copious amounts of free time, and had yet to yell at him. No, he was not unkind.
Yet Harry felt his insides knot up with the first of the words and he clenched his teeth a bit, nervously. Meeting new people was not one of his fortes. It had not been asked in words, but it was implied by the pause in conversation that the boy was to give some kind of response, and he would not refuse the man, though he had little to communicate. After a moment's hesitation and a glance up, he nodded that he understood and had no real objections… even if he had, though, he'd not have made them known. After all the care he'd been receiving, how could he? He was acutely aware at that moment of how quiet he'd become, but figured it was just one of those things that happened. People change, of course they do, and he just happened to dislike talking these days. He'd decided he rather disliked conflict, and found himself avoiding it at almost any cost. Especially in this world, the non-magical world, one in which he was a stranger, lost and confused… but, perhaps, safe? Well… no one had found him yet, maybe that meant the death eaters wouldn't either.
"Glad to hear it, lad. I think you'll like them, and I'm sure they'll like you. It will be fun, you'll see." Mr. Carter smiled kindly, his gentle, but confident demeanor somehow encouraging to the nervous wreck before him, who actually looked up and hazard a small smile, as he did every once in a while.
"They'll be here tomorrow mourning, okay? Not too early though, don't worry, you still get to sleep in. We know it's Saturday." And he smiled a bit again, pausing to give Harry a chance to make some sort of response. But of course, as always, he only nodded that he understood. Mr. Carter continued to talk a bit more, explaining what might go on, what the couple might have to say or questions they might have. And after a short while, when he was done and Harry had no questions, as usual, he dismissed to boy to go play. Harry didn't of course. That wasn't something he was very accustomed to doing, but he'd rather taken to reading and went to lock himself away in the room he shared, as he often did.
Reading was his escape, and Merlin knew he needed to escape right now. If he dwelt on the up coming events too much, he knew he'd lose his cool. His mind was racing at first, and he had difficult getting into the story for some time. But eventually the world he lived in now fell away as he lost himself in the pages of some obscure novel by some obscure author he'd found in a remote section of the library.