AN: Sooo... For those of you who are wondering when Harry will actually appear and meet his family, wait for chapter 14. But till then, here is a bit of Harry for you.
Also, people are telling me to introduce line breaks and stuff, well, that's not my style. Anyway, just because I'm petty as fuck, prepare to be confused first.
Also, I decided to reduce the harem, so, Andromeda, Amelia, Vector, Babbling and Sinistra gonna get the chop. This decision is not up for debate.
Time: Christmas, Same Year
A small boy, barely nine years old, trudged through the deep snow as if he was all of two hundred years, his legs sinking in till his knees in the beautiful white snow that lay thick on the sidewalks, making it immensely difficult for him to execute such a simple task as walking. The road was clear, having already been cleared by the authorities in the distant morning, but he did not have the courage to walk on the road, only lightly dusted by the sparkling snow, like all the others did, whether it be out of a fear for all the passing cars, blaring their horns loudly, or the slightly drunk men cheering loudly as they returned home.
The moon shined brightly in the night sky, its brilliance drowning out the stars which were rarely visible in these urban areas, a pearl in a sea of black. Its light bathed the entire world in silver, making the snow look like someone had piled the streets high with small diamonds.
Tonight, after the seemingly endless wakefulness of the city would come to an end, Santa Claus would take to the skies with his reindeer, breaking into homes illegally through the chimney for such a benevolent reason as to leave gifts for the good children.
The little bit did not get his hopes up, for he knew if there was ever a list of bad boys, he would be at the top, for, in the battle for survival, he had had to shed his humanity long ago, if only to fill his stomach and feel warm and comfortable. He knew he was going to Hell when he died, if Hell even existed, but he surprisingly did not feel so bad about it, unlike most his own age. His facial expression revealed as much, a fiery passion for life without fear of retribution, determined to live as well as he could, without deluding himself with the games of man. To live in the lap of nature, as nature had intended him to be, and to play the primal game the Earth wants every animal to partake in.
Yes, it was Christmas eve, for a few, life went on as it did every day, but for most of the population, it was a night of celebration. Christmas was tomorrow, and a thrashing defeat of their longtime rivals, Manchester United by their home team tonight at their very own stadium was all that the people of Merseyside could ask for to sweeten the deal even further.
"You'll never walk alone!" A man picked up the chant, several people joining in as the crowds sang together, slowly trickling away from the glorious Anfield where a city came together in passion, the Christmas carols replaced by this song, rising from Anfield and spreading across the city of Liverpool like shockwaves. Even the threat of a serial killer wandering these very streets failed to deter them from their high spirits, helped by their rosy cheeks, both from the cold, and the warm alcohol sloshing about in their tummies.
The night was late, yet the city was very much alive, loud and cheerful as they soaked in the Christmas spirit, patting their colleagues in the back and exchanging goodnights as they went home, wrapped in thick woollen coats, and red scarves and mittens to protect them from the biting cold.
The boy rubbed his nose as he stared at them, torn between wistfulness and anger, hatred bubbling in his singular emerald eye as he glared at them hatefully, the emotion alien on his young, round face. He had lost all feeling in his nose and cheeks, and perhaps his cold, hard hands weren't the best to rub them for warmth. He wished his mother were here, but that was a pipe dream.
He shoved his hands into his pockets in a vain attempt to keep them warm at least, scrunching up his young face to try and get some sensation back.
Not that his face looked young. Marred by living on the streets, his face was pale, his cheeks sunken in, his eyes dull, rendering him an older look than he actually was, though it contrasted sharply with his short height, shorter than most his age. Despite that, he seemed to be full of lively energy, whether that be from his own infinite reserves that every child seems to possess or some unseen thrill that spurred him into action, nobody knew. A dirty rag was wrapped around his forehead, tilted slightly to cover his right eye. His messy raven hair felt oddly familiar, though it was far from the silky smoothness it once was, matted with dirt and snow.
He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to conserve whatever heat he could, trying to get the most out of the thin, small jacket he wore. It had definitely seen better days, riddled with small holes that made it look like Swiss cheese, with larger ones being covered by mismatched pieces of fabric, held together by poor needlework, a stark contrast against the luxurious clothes worn by the others that lined the street.
His feet continued on their own little journey, with seemingly no input from the brain, leaving little holes in the snow from where his feet got sucked in. Every time he struggled to raise his leg high so as to take the next step, his soaked trousers became visible, dripping wet with the beginnings of white dust that preceded them freezing over completely into a solid, immovable mass. How he had evaded frostbite for so long was a total mystery.
After a few minutes of light-hearted, aimless wandering, the boy stood beneath a street lamp, taking a moment to catch his breath and rest before he would resume his eternal trudging, forever doomed to wander the streets of Liverpool without destination, just one of the many criminals and homeless people that inhabited its streets, just another star in the night sky. Another one who didn't appreciate the Christmas celebrations.
The light from the streetlamp lit him up in the dark night, giving him an eerie golden glow that sharply contrasted the glittering silver snow, as he stood there, shivering in his meagre clothes. The people trickling along the sidewalks becoming less and less in number as time went on, as the city lulled itself to sleep and the lights turned off, the night growing darker by the minute, the celebrations slowly growing more distant and silent. A few cars passed by, their headlights reflecting off him, a single homeless boy standing beneath the golden light of the street lamp, away from the warmth and comfort of a hearth, even the one at the homeless shelter.
He stared across the street at his destination, looking torn between whether he should go there, to the warmth, or seek out the cold that had become his loyal friend for so long.
There wasn't even a single police officer about, rendering the night a mysterious look for anyone who happened to pass by. The snow, the softly glowing silver moon, the distant celebrations and the massive stadium just a few blocks away, towering over everything else. The short boy standing in the golden light of a streetlamp, seeking its protection in the dark, cold and lonely night like a moth drawn to a flame. The white rag seemingly like it was gold, the angelic light from the common, cheap lamp sharply contrasted by the demonic, all-consuming darkness that consumed his shadowed face, a single, ethereal emerald eye glowing.
He looked towards the right, before glancing towards the left without apparent reason, almost afraid, as if he was worried someone might see him. The effort was pointless, however, it was not like there was any traffic on the street, or people to annoy him in the first place.
Silently, he crossed the street, his little feet carrying him quickly to the other side to avoid the cold draught that blew through the middle of the deserted main street, as he clutched his little jacket tighter around his thin, shirt frame to conserve whatever body heat he had. Seems like he had finally made up his mind.
The boy knocked loudly on the low wooden door, the only thing breaking the monotonous white walls of the shabby building, which looked like it was barely held together, probably with duct tape and superglue. Plaster was peeling off the walls, giving it an out of place look in this bright city filled with beautiful, brightly lit shopfronts and cafes. It remained as dark as it was now during the day, day in and day out, amaranthine dullness, a splash of dark against the bright colours of the city. The place where all the rejects of humanity congregated.
After a few minutes of waiting, the deceptively sturdy door was opened by an equally burly looking man, who had a scowl etched on his features and an insult ready for whoever was disturbing the peace. "What do- Oh, it's you."
For a moment, the man came face to face with an empty street, before looking down towards his feet, already having grown used to his frequent visitor, who was barely as tall as his knee. The little boy stared up at him with his singular good eye, squinting slightly at the light that hit his face, golden light that promised food and warmth for the night, blocked out by the gargantuan figure of this burly man.
His voice still gruff, he turned around and climbed back down the stairs that led to the bar, carelessly calling out behind him as the boy entered, shutting the door behind him. "Was wondering if you had gone and iced yourself, staying out so long on this cold night. The Guvnor is waiting at his usual table, refuses to take part in any games without his partner!"
He guffawed at that, already witness to the little guy's prodigious skill at swindling money out of others, an endless source of entertainment for the regular patrons of the bar. "Come on, I won't be keeping the water for your bath warm anymore for free, now!"
The little boy smiled at that, the concern hidden behind layers of nonchalance that comes as easy to these people as breathing, years of not having anyone or anything to call their own having its toll on them. Not caring if he broke his neck in the process, the child bounded down the stairs three at a time, suddenly full of energy despite the dripping, ice-cold pants clinging to his legs.
Slowly, colour and feeling returned to his face, his body growing warm and comfortable.
Trapped in a dark, cold and cruel world, the bar with its warm spirits, roaring fire and loud people, the gamblers and the alcoholics and the whores, and its signature bad, greasy food, was a spot of homely comfort for those who had little money to spend, and nowhere else to turn to.
Perhaps he liked it here, with the other criminals, murderers, thieves and destitutes, all as condemned as him, yet all congregated in a spirit of solidarity, where no one knew the other's name, yet would not betray their face. No one asked questions, and everyone was family in the bar.
Here, there was Christmas all the year-round.
"Tell the Guvnor to start dealing the cards, I will join him after a quick warm bath and a change of rags! Serve me my food at the gambler's table, barman, let's see which fool has money to lose today!" The boy laughed gaily as if he had no troubles in the entire wide world, for once, laughing as someone his age is supposed to, but for entirely wrong reasons. Speaking for the first time that night, he addressed the tall, burly and gruff man as if they were equals, and he wasn't the height of the latter's knee.
And the man laughed back as if nothing was amiss. "You got that, kid!"
He guffawed loudly again as he made his way to another staircase that led to the upstairs rooms, unable to help breaking into song. "We are pirates, one and all-"
He started to sing horribly, like a donkey in the throes of death screaming backwards, but nobody could resist joining in, the spirit of Christmas lightening their hearts, otherwise heavy and stony with the cold burden of sin, and lowering inhibitions that made everyone join in what meagre festivities they could afford.
But it was the Christmas spirit that mattered most, to those who had nothing to lose. The warmth of a fellow heart, that mattered most to them. For once, even the whores abandoned their lustful passions for all that is material.
Bringing warmth to an otherwise snowy world.
Rose gasped as she woke up suddenly, her body and emotions all haywire, her clothes clinging to her body with sweat. The dream... who was the child in the dream?
She had a pretty good idea, what with the eyepatch, it was pretty obvious. The more important question was, why would she see his childhood in a dream? Was it some magical phenomena she was unaware of, or some spell he had cast on her just to make her feel stalked, despite his promise that he wouldn't?
He didn't seem like the type, nevertheless, Rose wasn't going to jump to conclusions. She had had more weird experiences than a strange dream.
Sighing softly, she threw her covers to the side, only struggling briefly to disentangle herself from the mess of soft, silken bedsheets to sit up slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, being met with the familiar walls of her room, with posters of her favourite bands and Quidditch teams decorating the dark red walls, mesmerizing and all-consuming... like the dark red iris of the Stalker. The familiar little bookshelf stocked to the brim with books detailing all about the Dark Arts, and duelling, apart from the occasional storybooks. The little study lamp still turned on, bathing the parchment and textbooks spread across the study table in a soft, yellow light. Her unplugged earphones lay across the pages, making her slightly confused. Earphones didn't work at Hogwarts.
Right, she was in her bedroom at the Potter mansion.
...Why wasn't she at the Ravenclaw tower again?
Slowly, as her mind cleared of the fog of mixed emotions, beginning to take note of her surrounding beyond the fact that she was in her room, her bleary eyes wandered over to the magical calendar hanging from her wall with a permanent sticking charm, the parchment slightly yellow.
All she registered were the red digits on the parchment, dancing and singing a familiar tune, before everything rushed back to her mind like a dam that had been holding her thoughts back just collapsed, blood rushing back to her pale cheeks in excitement as she jumped up in joy, remembering that Hogwarts was closed for the holidays, and that today was Christmas!
"Merry Christmas!" She shouted loudly to her soundproofed room, all thoughts of her dream pushed to the very back of her mind as she tried, and failed, to keep the smile tugging at her lips to a minimum, not expecting anything in response. Grabbing her holly and phoenix feather wand from the bedside table to cast a quick Tempus charm told her that it was quite late in the day, in fact, it was just an hour before lunchtime.
Rose did not even feel irritated at the fact that nobody had bothered to wake her for Christmas gifts, it was known in the Potter household that she would always be the one to wake up last, and the others had probably waited for her. Lyra and Violet, who had cuddled up next to her in the bed the previous night, had probably woken up long ago, as evidenced by the lack of residual warmth in the bed.
She could not bring herself to care, however, after all, it was Christmas, she deserved to sleep in!
Locked in the Christmas spirit, she did a joyous little pirouette, for once not loathing the dancing skills she had had to learn as a member of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Her wand, held in her outstretched arm, left a trail of dazzling blue in its wake, a simple, silent charm cleaning up her room, including her messy desk, the parchment and books returning to their respective places as her earphones turned off on their own before getting plugged into the charger, probably out of battery after she had absentmindedly left it running the entire night.
She flung her wand back onto her study desk, before rushing to the closed window to throw it open, gazing out at the snow-laden gardens of the Potter mansion, all the trees laden with white like she had seen in her dream, glistening icicles, a few as large as any spear that can be conjured with magic, a thick layer of snow covering the ground, making the house seem like something right out of a postcard. There were footprints as well, dark patches on the endless snow that gleamed like powdered diamond, including one snow angel that had probably been made by Sirius, after all, he was the only one immature enough to do such things, though her father wasn't far behind.
Rose smiled, leaning out of the window to take in the fresh winter air, her emerald eyes gleaming.
A cold draught ripping through her clothes and ruffling her already messy raven hair suddenly made her conscious of the thin nightclothes she was wearing, and the fact that they were drenched in sweat and almost see-through, making her slam the window shut, not out of modesty as much as an attempt to keep the chattering of her teeth to a minimum as she hugged herself, torn between burying back under the thick quilt, or taking a hot shower so that she could join the others downstairs to open her gifts as fast as possible. She was not really a big fan of frostbite or pneumonia, and there was only so much magic could do for her body's natural resistance.
One thing was that she was suddenly much more appreciative of the warming charms she had cast the previous night in her room, as she waddled over to the attached bathroom, abandoning her clothes on the way, a carefree smile on her face as she tossed her drenched shirt and pyjamas and underwear here and there, messily scattering them across the otherwise tidy room without a care in the world, before stepping naked into the shower. The house-elves would take care of them.
She stepped into the spacious bathroom, the marble icy cold against her bare feet. Not even sparing a glance towards the mirror, she stepped into the glass shower, cautiously turning the shower on. Immediately, the cold spray filled the shower, making her shiver slightly as she stood squeezed into a corner, waiting for the water to warm up and get nice and steamy for her shower.
"Merry Christmas!" The Girl who Lived greeted her family, assembled in the living room, all laughing and cheering, as she effortlessly slid down the railing of the staircase in a rare show of agility.
"Merry Christmas!" Everyone else chorused, laughing slightly at her excited face as she immediately rushed over to the decorated Christmas tree at the corner of the room, ignoring the others in favour of the piles of gifts, all wrapped in shiny paper, dumped around the base of the tree.
Lyra and Violet immediately joined her on the slightly cold marble floor, all of them eager to open their respective gifts. Sirius whooped shamelessly as he joined the three girls on the ground, joined moments later by James, who was cheering wildly as well. Remus and Lily, the only sane ones in the entirety of the mansion, smiled softly at each other as they meandered over to the others, a bit more subdued in their actions, but no less cheerful.
Lily smiled, looking at her daughters, husband, Sirius and Remus rummage through the gifts, her emerald eyes slightly hazy as she wondered what Harry was doing right then.
He was probably celebrating Christmas as well, wherever he was. Her emerald eyes glistened, remembering all the fun winters they had spent cooped up at the Potter cottage. Despite the war raging on in the world around them, ravaging the entirety of England, the Potters had been happy.
And the day England celebrated as their saviour, marked an emotional hollow in the family's chests that they couldn't just ignore.
Shaking her head to clear her mind of the cobwebs, Lily wiped a stray tear from her emerald eye, her lips tugging upwards in a trembling smile, threatening to overflow with emotion as she looked at what remained of her family.
She hoped desperately that Harry would return one day, that he was safe and fine, that his disease was not troubling him too much, that he would love his family as much as they loved him.
"Look! Astoria sent me a new broom polish kit!" Violet's excited voice cut through the merry enthusiasm in the room, reflecting their general mood as she tore apart the wrapper and ribbons and shit to get the leather box inside. "And it's the professional Puddlemere United one as well!"
She held the blue box aloft, a triumphant grin on her face as she envisioned the shine her broom would have once she treated it well, smooth and well polished, with nary a twig out of place. The gold lines of the box glinted as she twisted it around, holding it at different angles, determined to memorize every angle of the precious gift.
James whooped. "You gotta lend me that sometimes!"
Violet laughed at him. "In your dreams!"
"Well, Daphne sent me... A Master's Guide to Defense against the Dark Arts... by Albus fucking Dumbledore." Lyra's awed voice reflected the stars in her eyes, "There's less than thirty of these in circulation. Damn, now I feel inadequate for sending her only a locket."
"An expensive, goblin forged, red gold locket." Remus coughed behind her, making her smile sheepishly as she remembered how many galleons it had cost her... not that it put even a microscopic dent in the Black family funds.
"Alicia sent me a pranking book." Rose's deadpan voice after hearing the gifts her two elder sisters had received, made James and Sirius double over in laughter.
"Don't feel so down! You'll follow our footsteps, though you'll never catch up to us... Come to think about it, you have a lot of work to do if you want to even catch up to the Weasley twins, let alone surpass us." Sirius clapped her back comfortingly.
"If you are teaching my daughter to get into trouble, Sirius, I swear you will meet the end of my wand," Lily growled, making him scoot away from the Girl who Lived. His actions made the room burst out into contagious laughter, after a few moments, even Sirius couldn't resist joining in.
"Hey, what's this?" James asked curiously, digging through the gifts only to emerge with three rectangular packets, that looked like books, wrapped in a sparkling wrapper that was so deep purple that it looked almost black. The Head Auror turned it around in search of the name of the sender. Given the similar packaging and gifts, they might have been sent by the same person. "It has no names."
"Where did you find them?" Sirius asked curiously, not finding anything wrong with three unnamed packages in the midst of the piles of Christmas gifts.
"It was among their gifts." The Potter Head gestured to the three girls, silently handing them the packages.
Confused, the three took the packages, warily unwrapping the black paper, though they weren't worried much. The adults, all of them among some of the strongest magicals in England, if not the entirety of Europe, had personally checked each and every package if it was safe, and apart from some mild prank hexes from the box of cockroach clusters sent by the Weasley twins, they hadn't found anything.
"Yeah, it's a book, alright," Violet muttered, as Rose picked up her own book, reading the title. "The Interactive Master's Guide to Potions."
She made a face. "I suck at Potions. Why would anybody send me this shit?"
Before Lily could reprimand her daughter for her language, Violet piped up. "Well, I got the same book, but for Transfigurations."
"And I got the one for Charms," Lyra whispered moodily, suspicions already rooted in her heart as to the identity of the sender.
She cracked the book open, being met with hundreds of blank pages, despite the deceptively light weight and small size of the book that gave nothing away. She flipped the pages all the way to the first page, her heart lurching as she was met with familiar black letters, written in a beautiful cursive hand.
'Something to make your beauty unstoppable, for anyone's allure is incomplete without the crushing, overwhelming power to accompany it. I expect you to share the books with each other. This is the only one of its kind in the world... Why? Because I'm the author! I spent three years writing and enchanting this! If you want to learn, just write something on the paper. I enchanted each book with its own unique personality, and I will make sure that no aspect of your development is left ignored. Why am I doing this? That is only for me to know... Good luck, I eagerly await our next meeting- Sincerely, der Stalker.'
"Oh great." She looked up to see Rose and Violet wearing matching, pale expressions.
"Here, read this," Lyra spoke in a bland voice, offering her book to Sirius, who was curiously looking over her shoulder towards the book, wondering why they were so shellshocked.
He looked at her like she had grown two heads. "My beautiful daughter, I know your standards are low when it comes to pranking, but this is below beginner level. It's blank."
Lyra stared at her father's grey eyes, her expression blank, before she groaned. "Of course it's blank. Of course."
Of course, the Stalker had managed to charm the text only to be visible to their eyes.
"How the fuck did these even get here?" Violet's words summed up the feelings of the three daughters.
Lily was too confused and scared to reprimand her daughter's coarse language.
AN: Here you go. Sorry for the late update, I've been a bit caught up these past few weeks, and it wasn't helped when a guy from our hostel iced himself, stupid fucktard. Now I can't even go to the toilet at night without turning on all the lights. I'm not the only one, though. It's become so bad that the corridor lights are left on, even in the night when everyone's sleeping.
Keep calm and headbang