Charon

by LF74

No one knows what happened that Halloween night, but Jack Potter is named the Boy-Who-Lived. But what will happen to his brother, Harry, when he is sent to the Dursleys for 'safety'. What will he become? Powerful, Intelligent, Grey Harry. 3 years older than Canon. Alive Potters, Good intentioned but manipulative Dumbledore, AU, graphic in parts

8. Chapter 8 - Death

Chapter 8

For the rest of the summer he and Olivia spent a lot of time in the back room where he practised his magic, as had become the norm by then. While he was constantly trying to learn new things, that wasn't the only reason. By now he could feel his magic at the fringes of his mind even when he wasn't using it, but when he did it was pure ecstasy and every single one of his nerves tingled. It was addicting.

Sometimes they would talk about random things while he practised, sometimes it would be silent. Often he would be sat leaning into her side while he tried again and again to get it to work or to work better, but every time Olivia would be wide eyed as she watched. While she knew that magic was real, seeing it being done never failed to bring her a sense of disbelief. It was like living in a fantasy. From Harry's descriptions of Diagon Alley her fantasies might not even live up to the real thing, and she really wanted to see it.

Harry said he thought he could probably find the entrance and had asked if they could go sometime over summer. She was hesitant to go into the heart of the magical world, which by all accounts wasn't particularly fond of non-magicals, and wary at the fact that she wasn't even supposed to know about it – a little detail Harry had mentioned after a week of telling her about it. There was also the fear of what taking Harry back into that world would mean. Would he stay there and leave her? If that would happen she didn't want to go. She knew it was selfish, and she knew that Harry wouldn't just leave at the drop of a hat, but that did nothing for the fear. It was irrational. In the end she had just said she would think about it, and had held firm even if his pout nearly made her say yes. He was her little boy now. Before she had been trying to persuade herself it was just like she felt for sister, but it wasn't. She had finally accepted that now. She just had to tell him.

One night as he was beginning to fall asleep she gathered her courage and whispered what she had wanted to say for a while.

"Sleep well little guy. I love you."

She had thought he was asleep or at least on its fringes, but the sudden constriction of his arms around hers was answer enough of his own emotions, even without his whispered reply.

"Love you too."

He didn't lessen his grip for a few seconds before he released and looked up slightly, a dazzling smile on his face, and then lowered his head back down, his lips still curved upwards.

As Harry lay there, he tried to remember a time he had been anywhere near as happy as he was now, and came up empty. Nothing from before was even comparable to the joy he felt bubbling in his chest. He had thought of her as family for a while, had known he loved her, but he refused to be the first one to say it. What if she didn't love him? Previous experience said that very few people did. He wasn't going to risk it, but now he didn't have to. He felt like he belonged more than he had ever belonged in the magical world, and it was all because of her.

The next day he refused to leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time and had an added bounce in his step the whole time. The matching smiles on both their faces gave everyone else a good idea of what had happened.

For the next few weeks Harry was in a constant state of happiness, the complete opposite of the majority of his time since being given away. There was no way he would leave here for anything if given the choice, not a chance. One night in July his happiness was absent, though, replaced by worry.

Olivia, Malcolm and a couple of others had gone out hours ago but hadn't come back yet. It never usually took this long. He couldn't sit still and felt like something was going to go wrong, a feeling not helped by the anxious looks on everyone's faces.

A collective gasp had his head snapping towards the door where Malcolm and the others were walking back in, but there was no Olivia. There was blood on Malcolm's shirt and a glazed look on his face, and Harry's stomach dropped to his feet. Their eyes met and Malcolm started walking over slowly as if approaching a cornered animal.

"Harry, something happened to Olivia." Harry's mind began to cloud. "Some kid barely old enough to pass his driving test lost control of his car. She was hit, Harry. She's gone."

His world stopped spinning. He could see their lips moving but he heard no words, his mind just repeating that last sentence. "She's gone." His heart rebelled at the idea, refused to accept it. There had to be a mistake, there just had to be. They must be lying, his heart told him, but his mind told him they wouldn't. He wanted to rage, to scream, to cry, to destroy, but he didn't. That would only show weakness, and she was the only person he allowed to see him without any barriers up. To see him weak. He could feel tears falling down his cheeks but he didn't care, he was detached to everything but his memories. What was the point in focusing on reality if she wasn't there anymore?

They were looking at him in concern, but that did not penetrate the numbness that had enveloped him. Deep inside he could feel anguish and rage that she had been taken from him, and he could feel his magic reacting. It was pushing at his skin, searching for a way to escape but, again, he did not allow it. He forced the rage away, and the pressure of his magic receded and instead felt like a gentle caress, just like Olivia had done when he let himself break. The pain flared.

He couldn't stay here, not where he had been with her. He just couldn't. The happy memories of this place had become more painful than anything he had ever felt. They taunted him and they mocked him, tormenting him with what he had lost, all the happiness he had felt that he would never feel again. So he ran. Ran blindly, not knowing where his legs were carrying but not caring either. When the haze that had shrouded his mind dissipated, he was in the clearing where he had practised his magic. It was only then that he allowed himself to break.

Tears flooded down his cheeks and his shoulders shook for hours, and when his eyes ran out of tears to shed the sun was setting. Orange and red burned across the sky and hues of purple crossed the horizon in a patchwork of white clouds. It was beautiful, and Harry hated it. This was not a day for beauty, it was a day for darkness and thunder and rain. The sadness had been released, and now only the anger remained.

Anger that of all the people that could be taken, the world had decided to take her from him. As if he had not suffered enough. The world was cruel and the light that lit his had been snuffed out to leave only shadow. After so many hours he finally let his magic out, lashing out at the ground and at the trees. What came out was not spells like he had been practising, it simply destroyed. Chunks of dirt flew through the air and tree trunks were scarred with thick slashes, yet if asked Harry would barely have known what he was doing.

Fire erupted in his palm, only this was not the normal fire he produced; instead of the orange and red flickering merrily, this was dark brown, even black in the centre, which did not flicker so much as it twisted. Harry had just enough presence of mind to close his fist so he didn't throw it into the trees and burn the woods to ash.

By now the sky was black and the clearing was illuminated only by the moon and the stars, and Harry flicked his wrist to provide light, barely even concentrating. Again his emotions took control, and rather than producing light, it sucked it in. The moonlight was pulled into the onyx ball that floated above his palm like a hateful eye until the clearing was as black as coal. The darkness no longer unnerved him, so he just sat there for a few seconds before cancelling the spell, causing moonlight to flood the clearing once more.

Now the rage was gone, the anguish was gone, the pain was gone, and Harry felt nothing. The pain would return soon but for now, he was empty, numb to the world. He couldn't stay in the woods forever, so he rose and walked mechanically back to the warehouse, once again flicking his wrist only this time the usual glowing ball appeared.

When he got there he walked in, picked up the bag that held everything that mattered to him, which wasn't much - his clothes, the book Olivia had read to him and the pictures he had been given – and walked out. A few moved to stop him but one look in his hollow eyes stopped them in their tracks. He was so blank it was unnatural, as if what made him Harry had been ripped out of his body to leave only the blackness that had borrowed into his soul, and it sent a shiver down their spine.

As Harry walked away from the warehouse, the numbness that had covered his mind had receded enough for him to think. He was leaving. He couldn't stay here, he was going to find Diagon Alley and after that, he wasn't sure. He would never go back to his parents, but he couldn't stay in Little Whinging either.

His trunk held nothing for him, he wanted nothing from before. A part of him wanted to see her, just so he knew it wasn't some cruel joke, but knew that the sight of her without the smile on her face or the bright eyes that she always had when she saw him would break him. He would come back though, make sure she had a grave he and the others could visit.

He knew he should have said goodbye - the lack of a goodbye from Sirius or any of the Tonks had been one of the worst things for him to deal with - but then they wouldn't let him leave. So he walked to the bus stop and got on a bus to London with barely a glance back.

~Scene Change~

As the bus stopped in London, all the passengers breathed a collective sigh of relief as the creepy boy walked away. He hadn't moved an inch the whole journey, and several were sure that the elevator didn't go all the way up for him. Harry was oblivious to their discomfort and wouldn't have cared if he had known anyway.

After asking a few clearly unsettled passers-by where the few shops and landmarks he remembered from the muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron were, Harry descended down the stops into the underground to get a train to Charing Cross road. It wasn't rush hour, luckily, otherwise a child of his size would have easily got lost or swept along in the tide of suits and briefcases. He didn't like the underground, it was too cramped and he was glad to be out of it once he reached Charing Cross. It didn't take long for him to find the Leaky Cauldron and he swiped a hoodie from a street seller as he passed. His was torn and dirty and he didn't want to draw any more attention than he had to considering how much he looked like his father. He needn't have bothered, the charm Dumbledore had put on him would make him invisible to the eyes of every witch and wizard in the Alley, but he didn't know that.

Keeping his head down, he walked quickly across the pub and waited at the entrance of the alley, not knowing the combination of bricks needed to get in. It didn't take long for the wall to contort into an archway, and Harry darted through behind the squat wizard who had opened it.

Diagon Alley was much like he remembered; one or two different shops but other than that it was the same – bustling crowds, loud children, screaming advertisements and vibrant colours. None of that particularly bothered him though, he wasn't here to shop. He did see a copy of the Daily Prophet laying around and felt the headline reach out and wrench him closer. His fist clenched tighter and tighter as he read, tight enough to rip through the paper.

POTTER PARTY PREPARATIONS!

In just two days, dear readers, the party of the year will commence. The birthday of The-Boy-Who-Lived is the public event of the year and every prominent family and ally will be there. 4 years ago Jack Potter vanquished You-Know-Who, and while no one is sure just how, it is clear that the young Potter saved us all.

Several years ago the Potters were in the news for far less happy reasons when they revealed that the oldest son, Harry, was a squib. He was sent to live in the muggle world where he would ultimately live away from the dangers of the Magical World. The announcement was met with widespread sympathy…

Harry couldn't read any further than that, his mind clouding with black rage that roared to be let out. So it was never about safety was it? He just wasn't famous, wasn't good enough for them. He wasn't a squib! He could do magic without a wand! They couldn't! He could feel his magic racing through his body, seeming to want nothing more than to lash out.

But he squashed it, pushed the desire down until he could control it, but he left the anger how it was. His anger would be his fuel; he would become greater than they could ever hope to be, better than anyone could.

Dropping the newspaper back on the table where he had found it, Harry walked down the alley, paying no attention to anyone else. If he had, he would have noticed that no one seemed to notice him. Their eyes skipped straight over him and they would swerve out of his way only to look confused afterwards. He strode up the steps of Gringotts, doing his very best to keep his steps fast and his back straight. He would show weakness to nobody. Not anymore.

Noticing the goblin guards at the door of the bank, he looked at them and nodded as he went past; from what he remembered of goblins it would be smart to show respect. And besides, they controlled all the money in the Wizarding World, so obviously they were intelligent. He was a child. Being on their good side would be beneficial, especially for today.

As he entered the Goblins looked at him strangely, showing both curiosity and threat. It had taken the goblins a few seconds of disorientation before they noticed him and none of the wizards had noticed him at all, yet the boy had gone to wait in line. Clearly he wasn't expecting either wizard or goblin not to notice him, so it wasn't a break in. Even if it was, he couldn't be older than 9 years old. It was an extremely stupid plan to rob the most heavily guarded place in the country with a child, so what was the point of the charm?

When he finally reached the front, Harry looked up at the Goblin who loomed over him from the counter. Before he even got a chance to speak, the Goblin lifted a hand.

"Come with me."

That was both welcome and frightening for Harry. He had wanted to talk to the Goblins privately so that his parents didn't find out he was here, but he hadn't expected them to do it without him even asking! That didn't seem like a good thing, but he didn't have much of a choice. The wrinkled creature hadn't even waited before walking off, and Harry quickly followed. The goblin led him through a labyrinth of twisting tunnels, their walls rough and unfinished. The ceilings were low enough that an adult would have to stoop, but then the goblins were small so what was the point in high ceilings. Plus it gave them an opportunity to fuck with wizards, and that would never be turned down. As they walked the ceilings raised though, the walls became smoother and polished, the dark brown stone shining in the sporadic torchlight. Portraits began to appear, depicting bloody battles and fierce looking goblins.

After about ten minutes of walking, they came to a tall oval door with wrought iron weaving across it in intricate patterns. Stood on either side were two of the scariest looking goblins Harry had ever seen. Both had heavy armour and a mace in one hand with a sword hanging threateningly from their hips. Scarred faces glared out from under shining helmets, their lips twisted into a cruel snarl at the sight of a human.

The goblin at his side whispered something in one's ear and he entered through the vast door, reappearing a few seconds later and motioned them inside. All the while the second goblin scowled hatefully at Harry as he shuffled slightly on his feet.

The office they entered was enormous, with rich carpets and ancient tapestries showing gruesome scenes from goblin history. The walls were pale and above the ornate fireplace there was a bloody axe hanging on the wall.

All this, however, was unimportant compared to the goblin who sat behind the ornate mahogany desk. Where all the other goblins were slightly shorter than Harry, this one was significantly larger. He looked extremely old, the normally wrinkled skin all goblins had looked to be melting off him, and his beady black eyes were as hard as diamonds. When he spoke, his voice was sharp, holding power and complete authority.

"What is the reason for this, goblin."

"The boy, my lord. No wizard noticed him, yet we did with slight difficulty. I believed such a thing should be brought to your attention."

The goblin beside Harry had wilted under the stare of the older goblin, his hands now shaking slightly. The older goblin now looked intrigued, having already come to the same conclusion as those in the bank had. This was no break in, so who was the boy?

"Very well."

Taking the dismissal for what it was, the goblin beside him turned and left hurriedly, leaving Harry staring into the eyes of the most intimidating goblin imaginable. Harry tried not to be affected by the creature's cold gaze, and held out for several moments before he looked away. The goblin was impressed, most wouldn't meet his eyes at all and yet this child would. What had happened to the boy to harden him so much? Fierce creatures goblins may be, but they treasured their children more than any jewel. Something the wizards would conveniently miss out from their books.

"I am Ragnok, leader of the Goblin Nation. Who are you."

There was no question in his speech, only demand.

"Harry Potter, sir."

"Well, Harry Potter, why do you have some sort of concealing charm on you?"

"I don't. I can't do that yet, I've never even tried it," The confusion on the boy's face made it clear that he truly had no idea, as Ragnok had thought. But what he said did confuse him somewhat. He remembered reading that Harry Potter had been sent away for being a squib, and it was his understanding that only the most powerful and most talented wizards could do even the slightest wandless magic, and yet this boy was saying he hadn't tried a concealing charm "yet"?

Goblins lived far longer than wizards did, and Ragnok could remember tales of a family capable of wandless magic. They weren't the only ones, but it was a rare gift and they were one of the few that had it. Maybe the young Potter had inherited this gift. But that was unimportant at that moment; Ragnok was more interested in the concealing charm. There were few spells that worked on wizards and still affected goblins. Were wizards creating spells that would do so and testing them on children, preparing for war? Ragnok had to know.

Tapping a few runes on his expansive desk, Ragnok continued to analyse the boy while he waited for his best cursebreaker to arrive. He seemed collected, not comfortable but not far from it. He had seemingly decided he wasn't in any danger, so had simply stopped being frightened. Very few goblins lost their intimidation of Ragnok, and certainly not so quickly. Harry Potter was an anomaly.

The wait was not a long one – all goblins knew not to keep Ragnok waiting. The goblin that entered was much like the goblins in the bank; short and wrinkled with gnarled hands and beady eyes. He wasn't dressed in the suit of the other goblins though, instead in a much more practical tunic and trousers.

It glanced menacingly at Harry when it entered before it spoke to Ragnok in a strange guttural language unlike any Harry had ever heard before. When it turned back to Harry its gaze had turned calculating.

"This is my chief cursebreaker, Stoneclaw. He will be evaluating the magic that has been placed upon you."

The goblin began muttering in the strange tongue from before, twisting his fingers and drawing shapes and symbols in the air as he did so. After 5 minutes the goblin stopped and began looking at Harry in curiosity even while he caught his breath. He didn't even look away as he spoke to Ragnok again in their language, and Ragnok's gaze mirrored that of his cursebreaker. It took him a few moments to speak, this time in English.

"There are several different charms and wards on you, Harry Potter, the concealing charm being only one of them. Stoneclaw can remove them, but that will immediately notify whoever cast them."

"No, I don't want them knowing I'm here."

Ragnok was utterly intrigued by this boy. He was clearly not intimidated and had ceased to be so quickly. He spoke to him with none of the arrogance or disrespect that he had come to expect from wizards. He had no desire to see his family who he hadn't seen in years, though that was understandable. Had that betrayal turned the boy into what he was? From the way he talked he wasn't even a squib, so it was possible. Ragnok decided to help him as much as he could, even for no other reason than it would fuck with the wizards on an almost biblical scale. Son of Britain's favourite family gone? It would be glorious.

"There may be a solution to all your problems, young Potter. Quite simple in all honesty; you stop being a Potter. A blood adoption. If I am correct, you will have at least one family you can adopt in to."

"I don't want to join someone else's family,"

"The family I am thinking of has no one else. An incredibly old house that is thought extinct, who were also capable of wandless magic just as I believe you are."

Flames burst into existence in his outstretched palm, and Harry hid a smirk at the dumbfounded look on Stoneclaw's face. Even Ragnok looked surprised by the ease with which he did it, and the ancient goblin noticed the smug look on the boy's face before he schooled his features.

Ragnok dismissed Stoneclaw with a nod before withdrawing an ornate stone basin and a knife engraved with tiny runes from a drawer and setting them in the middle of his desk.

"This is a blood basin and ritual knife. Cut your left palm over the basin using the knife and hold it there until seven drops of blood have fallen. Your palm will heal immediately after."

Picking up the knife from the table, Harry took a second to marvel at the runes that covered almost every inch of the blade, and the delicate craftsmanship of the golden hilt. He held his hand over the basin and slashed across his palm, not even flinching at the pain. This was barely a papercut compared to what he had been through.

Once seven drops had fallen, Harry felt his flesh knit back together as Ragnok poured a colourless potion into the basin, muttering under his breath as he did so. The contents of the basin flashed and Ragnok laid a sheet of parchment delicately over them, and the parchment drew in the now silver potion. Once the entirety of the basins contents had been absorbed, Ragnok lifted the parchment out of the basin and laid it on the desk.

NAME: HARRY JAMES POTTER

FATHER: JAMES CHARLUS POTTER

MOTHER: LILY ROSE POTTER

DATE OF BIRTH: 15TH NOVEMBER 1986

CURRENT HOUSE: POTTER (HEIR)

ELIGIBLE HOUSES: POTTER, NIGHTSHADE, GRYFFINDOR

"Who are those houses?"

"Ah Mr Potter, they are three of the oldest houses in Britain. The Potters came to Britain in Roman times and the House of Nightshade is the oldest family in the country. No one is even sure how old they really are, but they were masters of all kinds of magic. They have been extinct for about 700 years, but before that they were feared above all others. Gryffindor, I am sure you have heard of," Ragnok said with a smirk, though it looked more like a snarl on his face, "Both House Nightshade and House Gryffindor left blood, as is common for houses close to extinction, for if there was a worthy heir to fully adopt into the bloodline. However, you cannot gain access to the vault where the blood is kept without the sword, and it has been lost since Godric himself. So that just leaves House Nightshade."

Harry nodded in agreement. He would have picked it anyway because it was older, had a history of brilliant wizards and he wouldn't have to deal with the problems that went along with the having the name of one of the founders. However, a not insignificant part of that decision would be just because it sounded cool - He was still 8 years old, after all. He would just have to come up with a name that suited it.

"Very well."

Tapping a few more runes on his desk, Ragnok summoned the account manager and told him to bring what was needed for a blood adoption. Even though the family was thought extinct, the vault still had gold in it and while they couldn't take it, they could invest it. The goblins were entitled to a percentage of any profits made from investments they make, so they had made quite a bit over the last 700 years. Unless a goblin really screws up, the same clan of goblins manage the same family account – the current manager was the grandson of the goblin who managed it before the family went extinct.

The goblin that entered several minutes later was dressed in a suit far superior to those worn by the goblins in the lobby, two vials clutched in his hand.

"This is Slashjaw, the account manager for the Ancient and Noble House of Nightshade."

At Ragnok's nod, Slashjaw approached Harry and poured the vial of dark red liquid into the other vial containing a light green potion. Once the two liquids mixed the potion became a dark grey, nearly black, and the goblin handed Harry the vial.

"Once you drink the potion, everything about you will change. All magics will show that Harry Potter is dead, because you will no longer be Harry Potter. I warn you, it will be incredibly painful." The goblin's pleasant tone did not match his words, nor the gleeful look in his eyes.

Harry took one look between Slashjaw and the vial before he raised it to his lips and drank.

~Scene Change~

Lily Potter stood unseeingly in their tapestry room at Potter Manor. Ever since they sent Harry away to live with her sister she had spent more and more time in here, just staring at his name and his picture. She had wanted so badly to go and see him, but it was against the agreement they had with Petunia and she didn't want to cause any trouble for Harry. Petunia didn't like magic and she didn't like her, and seeing him only to leave him there again would do Harry more harm than good. She trusted Dumbledore's judgement. To cope she had spoilt Jack and made sure he would never want for anything. She knew it wasn't the best thing for Jack, that it was risking him growing into a Malfoy, but she did it anyway. It was one of the ways she could combat the guilt at giving away her own son.

She and James had gone through a rough patch after she caught the hesitation when Andromeda had asked if he was ashamed of Harry for being a squib. She had refused to speak to him for a week and slept in a different room for nearly a month until he managed to explain. He had said it was the way he was brought up, not that his parents were blood purists but they did follow pureblood tradition, and part of that was that squibs were bad – a bad reflection on the parents, a black mark on the whole bloodline. He had made it out like it was a conditioned response, and it had taken another two months for her to forgive him completely. She had watched him constantly, assessing whether he was lying to her. He wasn't, the way he would look at the pictures on the wall proved that to her. They had thought about having another child, but felt like that would be an insult to Harry and a confirmation that the only reason they sent him away was because he was a squib, when that wasn't true.

The Wizarding World had met the announcement that Harry was a squib exactly as James had expected. There had been an outpouring of sympathy from all sides, the purebloods had approved of the decision to 'get rid of the squib', and the more progressive people had understood their reasons. That was the wider wizarding world though, and the reaction from those close to them had been far less clear cut. Again, many had understood why they did it and much of the Order had forgiven them straight away. Remus had taken a few weeks, but he had come back saying he understood, even if he didn't like it.

There were those that had refused to even interact with them now though. The Longbottoms had cut all ties, Frank had even got a transfer in the Aurors out of James' unit. Minerva refused to acknowledge their existence, and at the occasional Order meetings over the years had done nothing but glare at them heatedly.

By far the worst two for James and Lily had been Sirius and the Tonks. The Tonks had cut off all ties, removed them from their wards and made floo and letter impossible. They had seen them once in Diagon Alley and she would forever remember the hatred in Nymphadora's eyes. Sirius had done similar, and had dissolved the Potter-Black alliance in the Wizengamot and left the Aurors to be Lord Black full time, even moving into a Black family property in Italy. They were sure he had searched and searched for Harry, but Dumbledore said it would be impossible for Sirius to find him. He had actually gotten married last year to an Italian witch from an old pureblood family, and from the pictures in the newspapers were very happy together. The Potters weren't invited to the wedding, and hadn't seen Sirius since he walked out after finding out.

Movement on the wall jarred her out of her mind, her momentary confusion almost immediately turning to horror. Harry's stem was wilting; the petals of the red flowers that twisted around it shrivelled before they fell and drifted downwards. Bright green darkened into brown and the stem changed to a branch, just like those of Potters long passed.

A strangled cry escaped her throat, not that she even realised. All she could think of was that Harry was dead, everything else was white noise. James appeared in the doorway, panicked and breathless after sprinting across the manor. Lily was catatonic, just staring at single spot on the wall while tears streamed down her face. He felt his stomach grow heavy with dread as he entered the room and he followed his wife's eyes to the tapestry.

Harry James Potter

1986 – 1995

"No…" his whispered denial brought Lily back to life, and she collapsed into his arms as she muttered similar denials to herself, desperately trying to convince herself the tapestry was wrong. They both knew it wasn't, it was one of the few blood magics still allowed in Britain and blood was taken at birth to add children to the tapestry. He was gone.

After a few minutes Lily seemed to stiffen and when she rose her eyes held such unholy fury that James recoiled slightly. He had never seen her this angry, not even when she duelled the worst the Death Eaters had. He followed as she stalked through the halls and out of the manor, her green eyes still leaking tears, and knew exactly where she was going. Her sister was in for a nasty surprise.

Grabbing her arm just as she apparated, they appeared right in front of 4 Privet Drive with a loud crack, completely uncaring of the Statute of Secrecy. Just as always, he had to fight the urge to shiver at the unnatural perfection of each of the houses on the street, by which time Lily had already blasted the door inwards in a shower of splinters.

The face of his sister in law appeared in the kitchen doorway and immediately paled at the feral look on her sister's face, the tears that clung to her cheeks doing nothing against the anger in her eyes and the snarl on her lips. His brother in law, however, wasn't as perceptive. Vernon squeezed through the doorframe and stiffened in rage and indignation.

"Now see here, I won't have you freaks…" His blustering was swiftly cut off as Lily's wand appeared in her hand and flicked in his direction, causing his body to stiffen, before it was pressed to Petunia's throat.

"Where is my son?" The threat in her voice was easily heard, as was the anger.

"I don't know, we haven't…"

"Legilimens"

Lily was by no means a master Legilimens, she could barely get past even weak Occlumency shields, but she had made it her mission to learn as much magic as she could. Muggles had no shields so it was easy for her to get in. What she saw made her want to retch, to cry and to rip both her sister and her brother in law to shreds.

They had abused her son. Harry had cried and screamed at first, but then he stopped. He got used to it. She saw the light gradually leave his eyes until they were dead and empty, only showing sparks of life when he returned from wherever it was he went every weekend. And then he had left, and they hadn't even bothered looking for him. They hadn't seen him in months! She wanted to know where he went, but Petunia had no idea. The rumours she had spread made sure that no one would care about him. But she had to know why they had done that to him, to an innocent little boy. She forced her way through Petunia's mind, and when she found out her anger spiked to impossible heights; they had done it because he was hers.

Withdrawing from her sisters mind, she had to still the impulse to curse both of them. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. Stunning both of the animals in the house, she turned and walked out of the house before she lost herself to the urge to make them pay, barely glancing at her husband as she did so. Her mind was on a different man.

As soon as James caught up and grabbed her hand she apparated to Hogsmeade and strode through the village towards Hogwarts. She didn't hesitate at the gates, their blood-bound Order pendants allowing them entry, and didn't even acknowledge Hagrid as they passed.

~Scene Change~

Life for Albus Dumbledore over the past three years had been difficult. It had been difficult for a long time, but it had only become more so since young Harry was sent to live with his Aunt. While he was sure it was the best decision for Harry in the long run, he still hated that he had sent a child away from his parents and abused their trust in him to do so. The guilt still kept him up at night, but he would grow up safe and his brother would receive all the attention and training he would need to vanquish the Dark Lord.

The decision had had several unforeseen consequences though, but he should have known it would cause some problems. The relationship he had enjoyed with Minerva for decades had crumbled to dust and she now refused to speak to him in any way outside of what was required by her position at Hogwarts. Filius too had been cold ever since he had found out and had correctly assumed he had been involved in some way, which was not something he had expected. He could not think of any particular reason until he had been educated rather explicitly about the Goblin attitudes to children. Filius had called him "just as ignorant as every other wizard", one of the few times he spoke as a goblin.

The Order had fractured in two; on one side those that supported the Potters and on the other those that didn't. Sirius had reacted even more strongly than he had expected and had left the country; Dumbledore only hoped he would come back once Voldemort returned.

Ever since that Halloween night Dumbledore had travelled the world speaking to experts on magics of all kinds from every continent to try and decode the mystery of Voldemort's defeat, and he was still no closer to an answer. Not one person had any idea or working theory to explain the events of that night and it frustrated the old wizard to no end. He had scouted several locations where he suspected Tom had hidden his Horcruxes, but was hesitant to go after them himself. What if that was part of the prophecy? That would mean Jack Potter would have to destroy them, and him doing so could be catastrophic. Not for the first time he sighed at the vague nature of prophecies.

The wards notified him that both Potters had entered the grounds, and he hoped that this would not be another headache to add to his ever-growing list of problems.

Far faster than he expected his proximity ward on the stairs to his office pinged, and he put on his most grandfatherly mask in preparation. When they entered, it was clearly not going to be the meeting he had anticipated.

Their eyes were both red from crying yet held an ocean of anguish and, in Lily's especially, rage. Her normally well-kept hair was tangled and windswept while the wand in her hand shook. It was the way they had entered that alarmed Dumbledore more than anything though; they had burst into the office like a predator surged into a hunt, and he was clearly the prey.

"YOU SAID HE WOULD BE SAFE! YOU SAID HE WOULD BE HAPPY! AND NOW HE IS GONE!"

The old man's heart stuttered in dread, fearing he had made a terrible mistake. His silence was taken as ignorance, and Lily continued while James stood silently, his eyes clouded.

"HARRY IS DEAD! THEY ABUSED HIM, DUMBLEDORE!" Her anger seemed to drain away as she spoke, becoming pained whispering, "They abused him, he suffered so much because of what we did."

"They what?" Clearly James had not known that detail, his back stiff and forced calm voice shaking slightly.

"They were awful to him. They beat him, they starved him - he was their house elf, James. I let my son become a slave. I don't know how he survived all of it, he shouldn't have survived it; they never once gave him medicine or took him to the hospital. He must have hated us." By this time she was wailing, slumped in a hastily conjured chair with her head cradled in her hands.

Dumbledore still hadn't said a word, tears of guilt wetting his beard. How had it all gone so wrong? He couldn't fathom how someone could do such a thing to anyone, never mind their own family. It was all his fault, he was the one to suggest it and he was the one to take Harry there. He had his wish, he thought bitterly, Jack would have all the attention he needed. The very thought tasted like ash in his mouth.

"How did he die?" he croaked

"We don't know, he left. Petunia hadn't seen him in months."

He would go to Privet Drive and use Legilimency on the Dursleys to see for himself what he had subjected a child to, and then he would make use of his position in the Wizengamot to see them punished. The Wizarding World maintained a rarely used channel between the DMLE and a specialist branch of the muggle police force, and this was an occasion to use it. He knew that without Harry they had no evidence except memories that could be extracted and veritaserum – the muggles would be unable to prosecute them without magical help. But he would also attempt to find out how young Harry had died; the Potters deserved closure at least for what he had caused.

Both Potters left shortly after, James having to practically carry Lily now that the anger had drained from her to leave only torturous grief. The old headmaster wished they had cursed him or screamed that they blamed him. Then he would not feel like he had gotten away with something, like a small child doing something they shouldn't have. At the very least he knew that their trust in him had been irreparably damaged, but that seemed like an insignificant punishment for what he had done.

Pulling an old bottle from the drawer of his desk, Dumbledore spent the night drinking the same firewhiskey he had drowned himself in after his sister's death.

Arriving home at Potter Manor, James and Lily fell into chairs and slumped motionless as time drifted by, Lily's sobs the only sound in the manor. Jack was spending the day with the Weasleys, and both parents felt the need to see him just to reassure themselves that at least one of their children was okay.

But first they knew there were a few more people they needed to tell. Sharing a look, both Potters flicked their wands causing a pair of silver deer to spring into existence and fly through the walls.

~Scene Change~

As he absently stroked his wife's hair, Sirius Black was the happiest he had ever been. Only the day before his wife, Sofia Blacknée Bianchi, had told him she was pregnant. He was going to be a father. Ever since his mind had been filled with thoughts of teaching them to ride a broom, taking them to Diagon Alley, teaching them magic and pranks. That had brought his previous mood down some as memories of doing exactly that had invaded his mind, memories of a little black haired boy with emerald eyes.

He had spent months searching for his godson but he had failed. He had checked every person in the muggle world that they knew, even Lily's horrid sister. He couldn't believe they would send him there, but he had checked anyway - He had never believed his best friends would throw away their son either and yet they had. He had found wards there, definitely Dumbledore's work, and so he had thought he had found him. But after spending over a week watching the house almost constantly with no sighting of Harry he had decided Dumbledore must have put up wards to protect Lily's family during the war and that Harry must have been somewhere else.

So he had checked every orphanage in London, even hired a muggle private investigator to comb through orphanage and adoption records for anyone called Harry Potter and anyone that was given to an orphanage on the days between the last time he had seen Harry and the party. It was a long list, and still he had found nothing.

He had even checked in France, but he couldn't search a whole country. He had asked the French ministry but as Harry was a squib it wasn't required to register his entry into the country with the Department of Magical Relations. After 9 months of searching he had given up; wherever he was they had hidden him and hidden him well. That was when he had begun to decide exactly what to do with his life.

Being Lord Black full time had been an excuse to spend time searching for Harry, but there was no way he was going back to being an Auror and he had no interest in working a desk job in the Ministry. Full time Lord Black seemed like the best thing to do even if he would miss the action that came with being an auror, and it meant he had to spend minimal time in Britain as he was only there for Wizengamot meetings. So he had moved into a Black Family property in Tuscany and had met Sofia soon after.

She was beautiful, intelligent and refined yet she didn't hold with all the pureblood propaganda that was prominent in every country, not just Britain. She was like him in many ways – she could be serious and dignified but when she let herself go she was wonderfully childish. They had fallen in love quickly and her parents had approved of the marriage - Sirius was from an old family and made their daughter tremendously happy so they were extremely pleased with the match.

The wedding had been small and few people were invited, partly due to their desire for privacy but also because there weren't many people they wanted to invite. Being from an old family and holding an almost unattainable beauty many had tried to get close to Sofia just for her family name, and the purebloods she had been forced to interact with were mostly self-important and irritating. She had few true friends who she wanted to be there. Sirius was similar, though more extreme. He had only invited the Tonks, the Longbottoms and Minerva, having cut off all ties with the Potters and those who supported them. Even Remus had not been invited.

He was cut out of his memories by the appearance of a silver stag, producing an almost instant feeling of anger and betrayal.

"Come to the manor as soon as you can. It's about Harry."

He was on his feet and walking to the floo within seconds, not even noticing his wife's concerned gaze on his back.

~Scene Change~

Nymphadora Tonks was sat at the dinner table with her mother and her father learning about magic. Not practical magic, she went to Hogwarts next year and didn't even have her wand yet, but she had begged her parents to start teaching her the theory early. They had finally caved a few weeks earlier after months of asking, and although theory wasn't that fun, it was magic nonetheless. She had already decided she wanted to be an Auror when she grew up, and she wanted to be so far ahead when she finally got to Hogwarts that she could try and move up a year.

Annoyingly for her, she couldn't learn magic that much because her parents were often very busy with their jobs and she had school on weekdays. Once she got her metamorphmagus abilities under control there wasn't any problems, and that was both good and bad for the youngest Tonks. While she didn't mind going to muggle school, it wasn't as interesting as magic. She had a few friends there but not that many, and none of them compared to Harry. After he had been sent away she had refused to leave her room for over a week, and spent most of that time alternating between being angry and being impossibly sad.

When she had gone back to school a couple weeks after she was noticeably less energetic and less outgoing, the friends she had made during her first week no longer suited her changed personality. They were all like how she was before; bubbly and confident and loud. After a couple of weeks of her feeling very lonely at school, she made friends with some of the quieter kids there. In her mind she was always comparing them to Harry though, and to her none of them were as good. There was one boy who reminded her of Harry at first, he was shy but intelligent and he was fun once he came out of his shell. But to her he felt like a fake Harry, like a cheap knock-off, and the comfort she got from his similarity to her lost best friend soon became painful.

She knew her mum had been worried about her at first, but then her mum wasn't quite the same for a while either. She became more thoughtful and her temper was slightly closer to the surface than it was before; her mum missed Harry too. Lily Potter had been one of her mum's closest friends and now she refused to speak to her, so she wasn't the only one who had lost a friend either. She hadn't seen any of the Potters since they sent Harry away apart from once in Diagon Alley, and that was one time too many for Nymphadora. She hated them for taking Harry away from her.

A silver doe flew through the wall and stopped in front of her mother before speaking in the voice of a woman she hated.

"Come to the manor as soon as possible. It's about Harry."

As the doe faded into nothingness, she turned her eyes to her mother.

"I want to come. It's about Harry, please can I come?"

Andromeda knew that they would have to tell her whatever was said anyway. If it was about Harry Nymphadora would do whatever it took to get them to tell her. She only hoped whatever it was wasn't as bad as she feared; the patronus had left a sense of dark foreboding in her stomach.

Sharing a resigned look with Ted, she slowly nodded her head before rising and heading to the floo. Even as she disappeared in a flash of green flames, Andromeda had the feeling she might regret allowing her daughter to come.

~Scene Change~

Just as they stepped out of the fireplace the floo flashed once more and Sirius emerged. The dark, fearful foreboding Andromeda felt only increased as she saw him. They wouldn't call both of them round urgently if it was good news. She thought about sending Nymphadora back but knew that she would never leave now she was here. The look on Sirius' face showed he was having similar thoughts.

Once they all entered the living room and saw both Potters sat slumped with red eyes, they all knew it was something terrible. They looked broken, as if all life had been sucked out of them. Sirius and all three Tonks sat on the nearest sofa and waited for the Potters to speak and say whatever they had been called them here for, though they weren't sure if they really wanted to hear it. It was James who eventually broke the silence, appearing slightly more alive than his wife.

"I don't think Nymphadora needs to hear this."

Before anyone else could even formulate a response the youngest Tonks was protesting, her arms crossed stubbornly.

"No! If it's about Harry I want to know." Both Andromeda and Ted gave a reluctant nod at James look and he sighed, seeming to think how best to say it before he decided there was no way to phrase it that would make it any better.

"He's dead. The tapestry shows it." All three adults gasped while Nymphadora burst straight into tears, muttering denials just as Lily had earlier that day, but the adults knew there was no point. Both Sirius and Andromeda knew about the tapestries and the magic they used, and if his wife immediately accepted it then Ted knew it must be true.

"How?" Sirius croaked.

"We don't know, we don't know where he is."

"What do you bloody mean you don't know? You're the ones who sent him away, where the fuck did you send him to!" Andromeda couldn't even bring herself to scold Sirius for his language, she was still in shock.

"We sent him to my sisters…" Lily said, finally coming out of whatever stupor she had been in.

"No! I checked there, spent over a week watching the house and he wasn't there! Don't lie to about this or I swear to Merlin I will make you regret it."

"We're not lying, the charm Dumbledore put on him prevented any magical people finding him. It works a lot like the Fidelius, you could have looked right at him and you wouldn't have seen him."

"No, no no no no no…"Sirius's anger evaporated as he descended into mutterings and painful sobs, but Ted noticed the look on their faces that said that wasn't it.

"There's something else you haven't said." At this both Lily and James seemed to age another decade and glanced meaningfully at Nymphadora. What could possibly be worse than her best friend being dead? He attempted to ask her to wait outside but before his words were even formed she was shaking her head furiously, the tears flying from her cheeks like a dog shaking the water from its fur. With a look at his wife that showed they both knew there was no way they would be able to get her leave short of stunning her, something they would never do, they motioned for the Potters to speak.

"He was abused, horribly abused. They beat him and they starved him. He left months ago."

Both Ted and Andromeda inhaled sharply and Nymphadora whimpered, fresh tears pouring once more from her now green eyes, but Sirius saw red. He covered the distance between himself and James in an instant and slammed his fast into his face and kept on punching wherever he could reach. There was no method, just swinging and hoping to connect with something painful.

Ted was on his feet before either woman had recovered enough to draw their wand and yanked him off James before any spell was cast. Running his hands through his long dark hair, Sirius appeared more like a wild animal in a cage than a Lord of Magical Britain, growling to himself as he paced in up and down.

"I'm going to kill them."

"Don't you even think about it Sirius Black! You are married to a wonderful witch and you're willing to throw all that away for revenge on a couple of animals? They deserve all the pain in the world for what they did, but you killing them will just get you thrown in Azkaban! Sit. Down."

Sirius continued to growl and continued to pace but he stayed where he was, which was the best Andromeda could hope for. She wasn't going to let Sirius throw everything away in his anger. She was fighting the urge to pay the muggles a visit and use some of curses she had read about in the Black Library herself. Although she had never bought into any of the anti-muggle propaganda that her family spouted as gospel, she would make an exception for them.

The sobbing of her daughter brought her back to reality, and she decided she would need to get her home and a Dreamless Sleep potion. She would make sure Sirius flooed back to his wife first though. Calling upon all the emotional control and Occlumency training she received as a child she turned back to the Potters, James' nose still broken and bleeding.

"Is there anything else you want to tell us?"

At Lily's weak shake of the head Ted scooped Nymphadora up and she clutched on tightly like she had when she was a small child while Andromeda headed towards Sirius and shepherded him towards the floo in the entrance hall.

"You are going to floo home, and you will not visit those muggles. We can get them sentenced to muggle prison and they will not last long. Child abusers are not well liked there. Think of your wife, you will not throw your life away over them, understood? Now go."

Once Sirius had flooed back to Italy, the Tonks family flooed home and both parents prepared themselves to help their daughter in any way they could.

As soon as Sirius stepped out of the floo in Tuscany his anger died to be replaced by anguish. His godson was dead, and he had come so close to finding him. Sofia found him three hours later in his office blind drunk with tears streaming down his face and several empty firewhiskey bottles strewn around him. It took quite a while to get the whole story out of him while she half dragged him to their bedroom, but once she got it she understood. One of the things that she adored about him was how strongly he loved people, and that was evident every time he talked about his godson. It was why she was sure he would make such a great father. But for now, she would have to be ready to put him back together and to stop him from doing something stupid.