Disclaimer: We do not nor will we ever own the magical world of Harry Potter. We can, however, mess with it a bit. Don't sue cos we're broke anyway.


Bound by the Past

Chapter One - The Whispers of a Secret

Harry Potter lay on his bed in Number four Privet Drive, staring at the ceiling. His eyes followed the almost invisible cracks and contours of the paint, the brush marks and the occasional dent reflecting the legacy of the room having once belonged to Dudley.

In the week since he had returned from Hogwarts Harry had felt an enormous range of emotions, guilt and anger being the most prominent. Right now Harry was in one of his depressed phases. Sirius was dead, Voldemort was back with a vengeance (literally) and he was the one expected to kill Voldemort and make everything alright again.

Fantastic.

To add insult to injury he was now back at the Dursley's.

On one hand Harry was actually glad they didn't know anything about Sirius's death and could not remind him of it. They, at least had no expectation except the conviction that he was going to make an even bigger nuisance of himself than last time.

On the other hand since Moody and Co's warning at King's Cross they were ignoring him religiously and Aunt Petunia had again taken to putting tins of cold soup through his cat flap. The door wasn't locked but he couldn't really see why he would want to inflict his company on the Dursley's so he only left his room to use the bathroom.

Harry knew that he was wallowing in a peculiar mix of self-pity, guilt and anger but at the moment he could not control what he was feeling which, he supposed, was apt since he couldn't control his life either. He laughed mirthlessly. His destiny was predetermined. Harry felt he was in one of those muggle cartoon coal trucks and he could see the "End of the Line" sign on the tracks in the distance. He just couldn't shake the feeling of panic and guilt every time he thought about anything to do with the magical world, even his friends.

They had stood beside him in the Department of Mysteries and he had led them into danger. Although they had only been apart a week he had already received several letters from them which remained unopened in a pile on his rickety desk. Ever since he had discovered the magical world it had been his refuge and his home, the place were he felt he belonged. Now for the first time in 5 years he was dreading returning to the magical world and just as always, his unhappiness could be traced back to Voldemort and Harry, just as always would have to deal with as best he could. Harry knew though, in his heart, that his usual impulsiveness would not work next time. After the Ministry Harry had a definite feeling he had run out of luck. Next time he met Voldemort, he would not be so lucky.

He rolled over uneasily. He was feeling a bit strange, like he was being stretched by some invisible force. He supposed this was because of his sudden growth spurt which was continuing even in spite of his meagre rations. He had thought that was a bit unusual because most boys he knew had shot up during third year. Harry supposed he was a late starter and looked forward to not having to look up to Ron. Actually if he continued growing at this rate, he could end up on eye level with Snape. At least that would make it harder for him to sneer down at him. Harry shuddered. He was not going to spend his summer holidays thinking about Snape. That would be way more disturbing than thoughts of death and murder.

A young woman with dark auburn hair stood in the middle of Dumbledore's office. The way she stood with her arms crossed around her and her small stature made her appear as one of the students. Yet looking closely at her in the bright July sunlight it became apparent that she was not as young as she appeared. In fact she was around 30 with striking blue eyes that looked older. She waited silently, not bothering to examine the room. The next moments would determine whether she would live or die. She was tired of hiding. Tired of so many things.

She was broken from her reverie by the entrance of Professor Dumbledore. He smiled at her politely and apologised for keeping her waiting. He gestured for her to sit in the comfortable seat in front of his grand desk and she sat awkwardly, tensely as though waiting for an invisible gavel to fall in judgement.

"So Merella, I was a bit surprised to receive your application." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her and Rella was instantly both relieved at his congeniality and worried about the meaning of his statement.

"Why? I simply applied for the Defence Against The Dark Arts position." She smoothed the dark blue fabric of her robes nervously. She had never been good at these games. She preferred a more straightforward approach to problems. Silently she questioned again her reasons for returning. Could she not have been happy away from here, away from him? Where these games were not played and she would not need to take part in them. Here she would have to watch every word she said and every thing she thought and that was if Dumbledore had not just taken one look at her and remembered her from her school days. She had not exactly been anonymous during her last months here.

"Ah. Well actually there has not been an actual application for the position for the last two years. Usually I have to approach the search for a defence teacher rather more pro-actively than I would for other subjects. But I must say I do wish you had applied under your real name. It makes the paperwork so much simpler, you see." He scrutinised her intently and she made no effort to break eye contact, having resigned herself to what he was likely doing at that very moment inside her head. He sensed her acceptance and did not try to hide his search. She guided him to what he was looking for and he viewed the memory and withdrew from her mind. She sat stiffly looking at the stone floor, tears silently making their tracks down her cheeks.

"Aurelia. I am sorry I doubted you. But I could not believe if you were truly innocent that you would return. If you are discovered, you would receive the Kiss. Why would you risk this?" He asked gently, taking in her distress.

"Why have I risked all in the past? For him. I tried Headmaster, truly I tried, for years to forget him or get over him but… I have nothing to lose. The Dark Lord has returned and I am a part of this world. I became an Auror for a reason. I would not leave it to Voldemort. I will not leave him to Voldemort. He still teaches here? How is he?"

"Severus still teaches here yes. He is not the young man you remember Aurelia. He has changed. After you left he… he has not found another. I will not tell you anything further. You can talk to him yourself when you become a teacher here."

She sighed.

"I am not the young woman he remembers either but I am grateful for the chance. I assume Professor Merella Letton will be joining the staff? It would not do, after all to have Aurelia Kelton, Mass Murderess at the staff table."

"There is another matter we must speak of. Will you tell him what you have learned? Think carefully on this Aurelia. You must realise that there is more resting on your decision than Severus's feelings towards you" Dumbledore leaned towards her intently.

Rella felt a brief flash of anger towards the almost omniscient man before her.

"So, now it is my decision, Headmaster? I was under the impression that it most definitely was not my decision and if I took any action there would be consequences."

She shook her head in defeat.

"I will not be telling him. I made that choice long ago. It is too late to undo it now. Your secret is safe Headmaster. When will you require my presence? I must return home and pack up my belongings"

She rose and Dumbledore got to his feet.

"The last week in August will be sufficient time for you to prepare your classes. Oh and Aurelia… it was never my secret to keep. Safe journey."

She stopped, nodded in thanks and left the office.

Dumbledore watched her leave in contemplation. Her visit had removed one of his more immediate problems and brought into focus a much older one, a problem which, if he was not very much mistaken, would cause many more. Leaving the situation between his two employees aside his thoughts returned to the Boy-Who-Lived. He had considered several options but none were really satisfactory. Dumbledore chastised himself. Why was he so afraid of telling the truth? The Truth could not be chosen. The Truth was The Truth and that could not be changed. Dumbledore sighed. It was a definite pity, that the truth in this case was so damned inconvenient. But then the truth always was. His mind told him that this matter demanded immediate action but his heart… He had seen the anger and hurt on the young boy's face when he had told him of the prophecy. His heart had cried out for Harry as he had learnt the awful truth of his destiny. Dumbledore had no inclination to deal another blow to him so soon. It could wait. He hoped.


A/N : The next chapter will be posted when we get some reviews.(Hint, Hint ,Hint)or when we finish our exams, whichever comes first! This is our first fan fic so both I and my co-writer (and lil bro) Onuris Black thank you for your time.