Harry Potter and the Curse of V'adian
Chapter 3
Of Promises and Pain
Standard Disclaimers Apply
oOoOo
Before Harry could get to the door, Uncle Vernon appeared in front of it, looking anxious and, Harry thought, excited. It seemed odd that he would be excited about a wizard appearing on his doorstep at eleven o'clock in the evening, but as Harry could see it with his own eyes, he couldn't very well deny it.
His uncle's piggy little eyes darted from the door to Harry and he sneered.
"Into the lounge room, boy!"
"But-"
"I said go!" Uncle Vernon sneered, and with a last, curious look at the door, Harry entered the lounge to see Aunt Petunia sitting in front of Dudley as though to shield him, but looking, nonetheless, just as excited as her husband. Her thin neck craned around Harry, trying to see into the hall, and she snapped at him to move and stand in the corner.
Harry heard the door open and Uncle Vernon, though rather unkindly, greeted someone who Harry assumed to be Dumbledore. His guess was proven correct as the long silver beard preceded the man himself, into the room, closely followed by a large belly and the rest of his scowling Uncle.
Harry became worried, however, when he saw Dumbledore's sombre expression.
"Good evening, Harry," he said quietly, as Uncle Vernon sat down next to Dudley. Harry glanced at his three relatives sitting side by side and looking impatiently at Dumbledore and wondered again what was going on. Wasn't Dumbledore just here to collect him?
"Hello, Professor," he replied, as the aged man sat on a chair across from the Dursley's, reclining as though quite relaxed. Uncle Vernon glared at the wizard, but Dumbledore merely turned to Harry again.
"Are you packed, Harry?"
"Yes, Professor."
"All of your things?"
"Yes," said Harry, frowning. Why was this so important? "Well, I mean there are some things of mine that I leave here during the year, but apart from that…" Harry trailed off as he saw Dumbledore about to speak.
"Are they of any particular importance? Anything you will miss?"
"No. Sir, what's going on? Why do I need all of my things?"
"I am afraid, Harry," began Dumbledore softly, "that you will not be returning to Privet Drive again."
Harry stared at him, dumbstruck.
"But- you said…" he said hoarsely, his voice not working properly.
"I know what I said, Harry, but please do not argue. It is for the best."
"What do you mean?" he asked, beginning to get angry. He looked at his relatives and was surprised to see Aunt Petunia with a thin, tight-lipped smirk on her face.
"Can we just hurry up?" she snapped. "I don't want this to go for any longer than necessary."
Harry was confused now, and desperately wanted some answers. He looked to Dumbledore, about to speak, but stopped when he saw the look on the old man's face. He seemed weary, and sad, as he sighed and looked at Harry.
"Take a seat, Harry," he said, drawing a comfortable chintz armchair out of thin air, "there are things we need to discuss."
Slowly Harry took a seat, sinking into the layers of cushions. He pushed out of them and sat on the edge, back rigid. It was uncomfortable, but he was irritated at the lack of information. What necessitated a sit-down conversation between the Dursley's and Dumbledore, and a civil one at that?
He looked enquiringly from his smirking Aunt and Uncle, to his confused-looking cousin, to Dumbledore, who then began speaking.
"If, at any time, you feel the need to leave, Professor Snape will be waiting outside to take you to Grimmauld Place. He does not know why I am here."
"Why are you here? Sir?"
"The boy doesn't have to know!" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Just get it over with!"
Dumbledore nodded slightly.
"Very well. We must leave before midnight in any case."
Harry glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing half past eleven.
"Well, sir? What's going on?"
"In a minute, Harry. I must deal with your relatives first."
Dumbledore turned too look at the Dursley's again, and they waited expectantly.
"You remember, of course, the terms of our deal." It was not a question, and the Dursley's did not reply.
Harry desperately wanted to ask what the deal was, but a glance from Dumbledore and a raised hand from Dumbledore told him to keep his silence.
"When I brought Harry here, I left you a letter, explaining what was to happen, and why. I asked that you look after Harry, treat him as your own, and show him love. You did not do that."
Uncle Vernon turned an ugly shade of puce and sneered.
"Now see here! We did everything for that selfish brat, and we got nothing in return. We clothed him and fed him-"
"And treated him with hatred, and often cruelty. He knew nothing but animosity here, though I do not know to what extent."
"But we took him in! We looked after him!" Aunt Petunia screeched, almost desperately, but stilled when Dumbledore again raised his hand.
"Nevertheless, as you have just said, you did indeed, however grudgingly and ungraciously, accept him into your home."
"So you'll still do it?"
"If it is what you truly wish," replied Dumbledore.
Aunt Petunia nodded sharply.
"It's exactly what we want. And it will be like you said? We won't remember him," she said, stabbing a manicured finger at Harry, "and we won't remember Lily or James, or m-magic?"
Harry paled and felt an odd swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going down stairs, when he heard Dumbledore's reply.
"No."
Harry's heart skipped a beat and he felt dizzy, shocked. A sense of sadness hit him as he understood, and he stood up.
"Well, see you then," he said and, ignoring the call from Dumbledore, left the room.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not realised, many years ago, that there must have been a catch, must have been some ulterior motive for keeping him?
Trembling with anger and sadness, he grabbed the handle of his trunk and thrust open the front door wondering, did they really hate him that much?
oOoOo
Severus Snape stood waiting in one of the foulest places he could ever wish to stand. It was not foul in itself of course, except for the fact that it was a muggle home, and the one where that insufferable brat, Potter, had grown up. And now, for an unknown reason that Albus Dumbledore was not polite enough to divulge to him, he had to come here to collect the spoilt, pampered little nuisance.
Suddenly the front door, next to which Snape was standing, was thrown open, and he was taken aback by the sense of sadness radiating from the Potter boy. As soon as Harry saw Snape however, his face became a firm mask, and Snape was unsure he had seen anything at all. Sneering at the boy, he pulled the pre-arranged portkey from his pocket and held it out.
Without a greeting, and without speaking, Severus Snape and Harry Potter disappeared into thin air, unaware that they were watched by a single pair of eyes, peering out of the lounge room window, of number 4 Privet Drive.
oOoOo
Harry landed in the parlour of Grimmauld Place and stumbled, but managed to keep his footing. Grasping his trunk more firmly, and avoiding Snape's gaze, he prepared to go up to his room. On the wall in front of him however, a large clock caught his eye. He stood, knowing Snape was still standing behind him, probably wondering what he was doing, counting down the seconds until midnight, until his birthday, and until the anniversary of his parent's death.
The only sound was the ticking of that old clock, and Harry said a quick prayer for his parents, and vowed he would have revenge. In that moment, Harry made up his mind, and he squared his shoulders as the second hand approached twelve. He pushed out his emotions and forgot about them. He wouldn't be distracted by things he could never have. And then it happened.
Harry let out a breath of pain as heat flared abruptly in his scar and, strangely enough, on his right forearm. He fell to his knees, hand on his forehead. He paid no attention as Snape moved in front of him, speaking to him, because he couldn't see him. What he was seeing was far more terrifying. Voldemort stood in front of him, in a small, plain room with pale yellow walls. The lights were off, the room illuminated by a flash of green light, and then the wands of the three Death Eaters who stood facing Voldemort. And there, on the ground in front of them, lay two figures.
Harry watched in horror as Voldemort spoke to the Death Eaters, congratulating them on their success. It was as though he did not see the two people on the ground in front of him. But Harry knew they were mere inconveniences to him, nothing more.
He felt anger and grief at what he was witnessing, but suddenly he was back, staring into the face of Snape.
"What did you see?" he hissed. Harry closed his eyes slowly, but opened them when a firm hand closed over his shoulder. Flinching, he stood up and pulled out of Snape's grasp, ignoring the prickling of his scar.
"What did you see?" Snape repeated.
Harry looked at him.
"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "It's too late."
Snape drew in a deep breath.
"I asked you a question, Potter. I want an answer."
"What, your master doesn't trust you enough to tell you what's going on?" Harry spat. Snape looked murderous, and Harry relented. "Mundungus Fletcher and Arabella Figg are dead."
Snape blinked in surprise and took a step back.
"Have you been practicing Occlumency?"
Harry was surprised at the change of subject, causing him to react truthfully.
"No. I haven't," he said, almost defiantly.
Snape looked livid.
"You fool, Potter! Do you know what could happen if the Dark Lord discovered something because you were too lazy to clear your mind?"
Harry took a step away from him, frowning.
"I don't need to explain myself to you," he said quietly. "I think you would be better off spending your time alerting the Order that there was an attack. They might be able to catch some Death Eaters."
Snape sneered at Harry.
"You were clutching your arm. Why?"
Harry looked down at his arm and realised it was still stinging.
"I don't know, and quite frankly, it's none of your business."
Harry bent to pick up his trunk, ignoring the look of dislike twisting Snape's features.
"You would do well to remember to respect your teachers, Potter."
"I'll show you respect when you show me some, sir," and with that, Harry left the room.
oOoOo
In his room, Harry pulled back his sleeve and examined his arm. It was not what he had expected, and he paled at the sight. Raised and pale against his skin was a scar, one that certainly hadn't been there yesterday. Was it coincidence that it had appeared when he had the vision, or was it something completely unrelated? And it had happened at that particular time…right at midnight.
Then he wondered, should he be panicking, or counting his blessings that it was somewhere no one could see it? He didn't know what it meant; whether it was good or bad. It was about ten centimetres long, situated just below his wrist. In the centre was a rune, enclosed in a circle. On the bottom of the circle, towards his elbow, was what appeared to be a snake head, its' tongue poking out, and this is what worried Harry. Snakes were evil. On the opposite side of the circle was a blade, vines twining up its' length. It was a dagger.
Maybe, thought Harry, it was related to the…incident. He needed information, a lot more. Grimmauld Place was large, and it had belonged to a family of pure bloods. It was sure to have a library.
So he went searching. It didn't take him long. It was on the second floor, towards the back of the house. Harry found it after going up a concealed staircase, evident only because the door had been slightly ajar.
It was large and dusty, and Harry stared up at the rows of books in awe. Hermione would be in heaven.
Eventually he came to the section he was looking for, in front of the main entrance to the library, and pulled the most likely looking tome from the shelf. He cracked it open, the pages stiff from years of disuse. Someone had obviously put a preservation charm on it though, and Harry was grateful. At least there was something in this house that was looked after. He began reading.
Vampires are perhaps one of the most ancient races to walk the Earth. They are extremely temperamental beings and their life span far out spans that of any other magical creature. Their worship of purity of blood is even greater than that of wizards, and it is for this reason that they have long since distanced themselves from mortal man, and why they will never leave a victim alive. If a victim is left alive, and survive the initial draining of their blood, they will Turn. However, when one Turns, they will never become a true vampire; this can only be done through the union of two true vampires.
Depending on the extent of the draining, a victim will receive vampiric traits. These include certain magical abilities, but it is rare for these to be passed on unless the victim is also magical. For hundreds of years however, vampires have obeyed a pact with all magical creatures, never to Turn one, and doing so can result in Death or banishment.
In recent years (here Harry looked and saw that the book had been written in 1873), Vampires are believed to have succumbed to their pureblood obsession and are dying out. It is thought that some clans are reduced to mating with humans to keep their lines going. As a result, the number of pureblood families is slowly diminishing.
One of the oldest pureblood families is that of the V'Ardian Clan, situated in Western Europe. In order to-
Harry glanced up, startled, as he heard footsteps stalking towards him down the hall. Hurriedly he shoved the book haphazardly back onto the shelf and guiltily turned to face the door just as it opened. It was Snape, and he stopped short when he saw Harry. His eyes flicked over to the bookshelf and back to Harry and he sneered.
Harry scowled in return. He couldn't keep reading with Snape here.
"What are you doing?" Snape spat.
Harry ignored him and walked past him into the hall. He would come back tomorrow and get the book. As he turned to go up the stairs, he looked back to see Snape examining the row of books where Harry had just been.
oOoOo
Harry awoke early the next morning, tired and sore. His muscles ached and his scar was prickling uncomfortably. He dressed slowly and went downstairs, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
He suddenly realised that he didn't know who else was here, but assumed there couldn't be many as the house seemed empty of personal belongings. He was just about to see what there was for breakfast when Dumbledore walked in, closely followed by Snape. Harry stood up abruptly to leave, but Dumbledore motioned for him to sit.
"I must talk with you, Harry, about what happened last night."
Snape shot Harry a sour look before heading towards the cupboard.
"I don't want to know, okay. I don't care."
"You need to know, Harry. You need to know why it had to happen."
"No, sir, I don't. I don't care that they didn't want me. They've never shown me otherwise, and I'm just as glad as they are to be out of their hair."
Harry started to leave, but Dumbledore stopped him.
"I am afraid, Harry, that I will not take no for an answer."
Dumbledore took a seat at the table and looked on calmly as Harry fought with his anger. What right did he have to keep him here? None. But Harry sat down anyway and obeyed Dumbledore, just like he had been doing all his life.
"Very good, Harry. Now, I-"
"Before you tell me, sir, is Mrs Figg really dead?"
Dumbledore bowed his head.
"It is true, Harry. Voldemort has been very active now that the Ministry has admitted his return. Arabella and Mundungus were important members of the Order. They payed for it with their lives."
Harry nodded. Mrs Figg had always been nice to him.
"But, we cannot dwell on what is past, Harry. For now, I will tell you why you are here, and we will leave it at that."
Harry nodded and watched as Snape sat across from him.
"Does he have to be here?" Harry asked darkly.
"Professor Snape will have to know eventually, Harry, as you know what his job is."
Harry nodded again, looking away from the pleased smirk on Snape's face as Dumbledore began.
"Fifteen years ago, your mother died to protect you. The charms she left on you would guard you as long as you had a home with a relative of your blood." But my blood's changing, thought Harry, as Dumbledore went on.
"Thus, the problem became finding relatives who would take you." Harry heard a soft snort from Snape.
"Your Aunt had declared many years before that she would have nothing to do with the wizarding world that killed her parents." Harry looked up at this. It was the first time he had heard of his grand parents.
"When I left you with your last remaining family, I made a deal with them. They would not take you out of any sort of charity, so I was forced to give them an incentive."
"And that was that when I left, they would forget about me and everything magical?"
"Your Aunt especially, could not stand the thought of her own family being killed because of magic. It is a simple memory charm, but nonetheless effective. They will not remember you if they see you."
Harry stared at the ground, fighting the knowledge that he had been unwanted that much.
"Was there anything else?"
"Yes. Your Aunt and Uncle requested that your cousin, Dudley, not be invited to attend Hogwarts."
Harry looked up in amazement.
"Dudley? Dudley is a wizard? But- I've never seen him do anything remotely magical," Harry said.
"I bound his powers. Not a huge feat, as he is not particularly powerful."
Harry ran his hand through his hair in amazement and looked at Dumbledore, who seemed as though he were hesitating with what he were about to say.
"You, on the other hand, were much harder to control."
"What?" Harry looked up sharply and saw Snape do the same thing across the table.
"You must understand, Harry, you were living in a muggle neighbourhood, trying to remain undetected. If your magic were to have been perceived by Voldemort, you may not be here today."
"So you bound my magic? For how long?" Harry asked, angry.
"Until last night," Dumbledore said. Harry shot to his feet, devastated.
"What gave you the right to do that?" he hissed angrily. "What? If you hadn't, I could have saved Cedric. I could have saved Sirius!"
"I am truly sorry, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Now you understand why you cannot return to your relatives. It is impossible for a wizard to bind another wizards powers after they turn sixteen, and your powers were already growing hard for me to control."
Harry stood still, his face pale. He couldn't believe he was hearing this and, from the look of it, neither could Snape.
"They didn't have to die," Harry said softly. Dumbledore looked defeated.
"You cannot change destiny, Harry."
"There is no such thing as destiny!" Harry shouted.
"Yes, Harry, there is. You know your destiny. You know it is true."
Harry stormed from the room and, as he left, a single tear slipped down his cheek. A tear for those who had fallen, and could have saved. A tear for those who had died because of him. A tear for what was to come.
oOoOo
A/N: I hope you liked it! Please review, they are very much appreciated!
Chapter 4: Of Revelations and Resolutions