(A/N): Wow, this story has 16.5K views, nearly 630 follows and just over 300 favorites as of the time of me uploading chapter 5. I did not expect it to be so popular. Be sure to Review, it keeps me motivated to write (when I have time)!
The dark force continued to tear through the house. It was as if a menacing wind were about the place, tearing doors off hinges, swirling furniture around the living room, blowing out windows. As the seconds progressed, the cause seemed to become more visible as an oily, black-colored something gained substance over time, spreading out from the black-haired boy who sat against the wall, shuddering into his knees.
"An Obscurial?" Andromeda asked in confusion at Dumbledore's assessment. The elderly man had paled considerably when he had seen Harry, not that Andromeda had needed that to no something was going wrong. As if the rampant magic weren't bad enough, there was an ominous feeling being projected onto the occupants of the living room, one which promised chaos and destruction in due time. She glanced at her sister Narcissa, who shook her head, not being familiar with the term either.
"A magical transformation that results in the creation of a malignant, parasitic force," Dumbledore began. "It develops when one suppresses their magic due to a trauma associated with magic itself and a trauma that leads one to hating their magic and preventing its usage."
Moody growled at this. "It was that Death Eater. He killed that Muggle boy after attacking Potter. I didn't see it myself, but he said that he tried to use magic to save him."
Minerva had hardly looked away from Harry since arriving. It was breaking her heart to see him like this, to see the results of she and Dumbledore's decision to place Harry in the Muggle world. She wanted to go and comfort him, to make him see that things would be okay. She made as if to do so when Dumbledore placed a hand in front of her path to stop her.
"Minerva, we cannot rush this. The transformation hasn't set in yet, we may yet win the day," Dumbledore said as he stared at Harry unflinchingly. The continuing development of the Obscurus was worrisome. "If he sees strangers coming to him, even with good intent, he may give in to the change out of fright. I fear the outcome of such a catastrophe." That having been said, Dumbledore Silenced the area of the living room the he and the other adult wizards were at so as not to drawn Harry's attention, and cast a Shield Charm to keep the flying debris away from them.
Lucius was watching with rapt fascination from behind Dumbledore's barrier. Not for lack of caring for the boy's well-being, but because actually seeing an Obscurus was rare. It was a sight few, if any, living practitioners of the Dark Arts had seen now that wizardkind had hidden itself from Muggles and thus had no need to try and suppress their magic to remain undetected. Though Dumbledore had protected their portion of the living room, the increasing power of the developing Obscurus was evident as its power periodically impacted the Shield Charm.
"Dumbledore, you say the transformation hasn't taken hold?" Lucius asked curiously. "It was my understanding that the development of an Obscurus was all-or-nothing. I didn't realize it could reversed."
Dumbledore chuckled a bit before saying, "I believe we are looking at a unique case here. The cause of the unfinished transformation is visible, just look at his hair."
Naturally, Ted and Andromeda were the quickest on the uptake.
"His Metamorphmagus abilities," Andromeda said in realization. "He can't easily suppress them, their activation is often tied to the wizard's emotions." She recalled how Nymphadora's hair color was often indicative of her current emotional state, especially when she was at home and didn't need to hide her shape-shifting abilities. Red when she was quite frustrated, blueish when she very relaxed, black or gray when she felt somber or depressed.
"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "His magic is finding escape through that ability and that gives us a chance to undo this before he becomes a true Obscurial. But we need to find someone he trusts to talk him down, and quickly." The wizened wizard turned to face Moody, who had kept his magical right eye pointed at Lucius since his arrival. "Alastor, would you mind separating the developing Obscurus from Harry for a few moments? I need to delve into his mind, but I have to take it slow lest my intrusion there be mistaken as an attack."
Moody nodded. "Dispello!," he said while waving his wand in a figure-eight pattern. The dark wind circulating throughout the room began to thin out in response the Dispersal Spell Moody cast.
While Moody had been temporarily neutralizing the quasi-Obscurus, Dumbledore had cast a silent a Legilimens spell on Harry. As the spell took effect, Dumbledore found himself at the end of a seemingly endless hallway with an equally endless number of rooms, each hidden behind nondescript beige doors. Behind the door of each room were areas containing Harry's memories, with the most recent memories being within the room's nearest where he began.
One door in particular stood out, as the door to the room
Dumbledore called the memory into focus in his own mind's eye to see if Moody's story checked out. Harry was in a construction site, facing a man in a cloak. Dumbledore could not identify the man as Harry's memory of the man's face was indistinct and vague. As the interaction between Harry and the man proceeded, Dumbledore's surprise grew as he saw just how far Harry had come with using magic without his wand.
"It still seems inconceivable for a child to Coarsecast at all, let alone bring it to this level on his own," Dumbledore thought. "I suspect more is going on here that I'm not yet privy too..."
He pushed aside his earlier concerns that Harry was paralleling Tom Riddle more than he liked, as the boy's desire to save his two friends was something Tom had never been inclined to do.
Dumbledore briefly caught a glimpse of the location that Harry Apparated the first Muggle to, which would allow him to transport there once he was finished inspecting Harry's memories. As he continued to watch the events, it soon became apparent to Dumbledore why Harry couldn't readily identify the wizard who killed the Muggle boy as he was put under successive Cruciatus Curses.
Upon seeing the Muggle take an unidentified curse in Harry's place and Harry's subsequent inability to save him, Dumbledore had seen enough and was about to pull out of the boy's mind when a haunting voice broke into the abyss.
"Make them pay for what they did," it spoke. "It's only right to hurt them back. Adults just like to hurt me..."
Although Dumbledore knew that his mind's portrayal of Harry's thoughts as a room of memories was more to assist in his journey into the boy's thoughts than a true representation of the mind, he couldn't resist turning this way and that in order to locate the source of the disembodied voice.
"Who goes there?" Dumbledore said resolutely. He wasn't sure what he was dealing with but there was definitely something unnatural lurking within the recesses of Harry's consciousness. It emanated an unmistakable malice that Dumbledore was shocked a child was capable of.
"Is this the Obscurus?" he asked uncomfortably. Whatever it was, it made Dumbledore feel uneasy in a way that he hadn't been since confrontations with Voldemort years prior.
He shuddered at the thought.
Instead of a verbal response to Dumbledore's question, powerful tremors began tearing through the hall of memories, nearly knocking over the mental representation of Dumbledore's body. As he steadied himself, the voice returned with a vengeance.
"You do not belong here. " the spectre screamed from all around Dumbledore. Dumbledore managed to weather the mental assault, only to come face with a mental representation of Harry Potter.
But it was all wrong.
The small figure before him was more vapor than form. It appeared as a dark, shadowy doppelganger of Harry, staring at him with a fierce expression and red, slitted eyes, as if it were the meanest ghost.
"No, this- what are you?" Dumbledore demanded of the… whatever it was in front of him. Those eyes were a dead ringer for Tom, but Dumbledore couldn't accept that this was happening again, not so soon...
"Get out, get out get out!" the form shrieked.
It was then that the aged wizard found himself summarily rebuffed from Harry's mind in a most peculiar fashion. As if he had been slammed into by a Knight Bus, he found his consciousness knocked back to the external world by the sudden use of Occlumency. Upon his return, he found himself with quite the headache.
If Dumbledore expected events in the physical world to be going any better he was sorely disappointed. Harry's progression towards becoming an Obscurial was increasing. The torrent of black wind had gotten a boost and was violently tearing apart the entire farmhouse. The walls of the house had been torn down, the roof was collapsing, and the debris was swirling around Harry in the shape of a whirlpool.
One glance at his hair and Dumbledore could tell they were nearly out of time. His hair color was changing very slowly and much less frequently than it had been prior. The boy also had a hand placed over his scar, evidently experiencing significant pain there.
Dumbledore asked quickly, "What's going on?" He wasn't surprised to see Moody with his wand at the ready.
Moody glanced at his old friend and said, "We were hoping you could tell us that. The boy took one look at us and everything went pear-shaped."
Dumbledore thought it over for a moment before replying firmly, "It's the wands, put them away."
Moody began to protest Dumbledore's demand. "Alastor, my charm is still in effect so we're safe. You were right before, whoever his attacker was did unspeakable things to him. He was Cruciated, repeatedly…"
The collective intake of breath stalled anything further protests or questions for a moment. Even the normally composed Narcissa was visibly disturbed by the news.
"He doesn't trust adults and seems particularly afraid our wands," Dumbledore continued. "I'm going to fetch someone he trusts. Do nothing that might worsen this; I'll return in a few."
A nearly silent pop signalled his Disapparition.
Harry had refused to open his eyes and see the destruction his magic was unleashing around him. He couldn't bear to see something he found so freeing and so right being twisted in such a way, to watch such malevolence spilling out of him as if he were some kind of devil. He hoped against hope that it would just go away and leave him to his misery.
That's when his scar felt as if it had burst into flames.
"Ow!" he cried out, grasping at the lightning-shaped patch. Against his intention, he opened his eyes as they began to water from the terrible pain that broke out in his forehead. It didn't compare to the magic the evil man from before was doing, but it was more than enough to make him forget about the dark magic he was releasing. He recalled the days he spent sleeping in a church months ago and one of the services he snuck into to see what it was all about. He didn't really understand this prayer thing - Harry thought it looked silly, in all honesty - but he was praying to whoever would listen that this affliction would go away.
He then heard voices from elsewhere in the room, causing him to briefly ignore the pain to look at the source of it. There six or seven adults looking at him in concern, something he was far from accustomed to. One was an old man with a beard reaching all the way to his waist and wearing in a light blue suit; he seemed to be in a trance of sorts as he stared at Harry intently without blinking. Another was a somewhat younger woman who was dressed in a light brown evening gown, wearing an anxious expression. Another was a younger blonde woman who, as with the brunette beside her, looked with similar concerned looks. He was about to look at the the two men accompanying those woman...
And then he saw it. The source of everything that had gone wrong the day before: a wand. The disfigured man holding it looked familiar, but Harry couldn't stop looking at the stick in his hand. Nothing else seemed to exist as the object occupied his entire focus and all else faded into background noise. Try as he might, Harry couldn't look away from the thing as flashes of the robed man from before assaulted his mind's eye.
Flash The all-consuming pain, Flash! Cam dying. Flash! His magic failing to restore his friend...
Harry felt like he was losing what little control he had left as the magic poured out of him even more than it was before. The house began being torn apart by the black substance that Harry was emitting, but he paid it no mind as his fear reached a fever pitch.
'Make them pay for what they did,' a cold, unfamiliar voice spoke into his mind. 'It's only right to hurt them back. Adults just like to hurt me…' Harry couldn't agree more.
"Get away!" Harry shouted as the voice continued speaking to him. As his anger grew, the force he was emitting appeared to grow in strength, but so too did the pain within his scar. He couldn't focus as much on the unknown people before him because of that pain, but he no longer cared so long as his runaway magic would get rid of them and their foul wands.
Dumbledore reappeared at the nearly destroyed home. The two muggles in tow stared at the destruction in surprise. The house the appeared in was practically eroded away by whatever magic James was doing. Their young friend didn't spot them as he was on his knees palming his face, evidently in a lot of pain. The eccentric man had quickly summarized what happened so they knew they need to act quickly.
"James!" Mitchell and Gwen said. The two wanted to run to his side but the malevolent force emanating from the boy made it impossible for them to get any closer. Fortunately, however, the boy heard their words and looked up.
Despite everything that had happened, Harry couldn't help but smile to see his friends there. The dark wind began to die down some, allowing them to get close to him. Then he remembered the third that had died because of him causing the wind to return behind them, closing them inside of the dark vortex that began raging about the place again.
"Gwen, Mitch? I-I'm sorry-," Harry began.
"We know, the old bloke told us told us about Cam," Mitchell said solemnly. He placed his arms on the shoulders of the shaking boy and said as calmly as he could, "James, listen to me. We know it hurts, and that's not going to just go away. But it's not your fault, you have to believe me, it's not."
Harry shook his head at this. "You didn't see what happened. That man only took you and Cam to make me show up there. It's my fault, if he didn't know me he wouldn't have gotten hurt!" He pushed Mitchell's hands off of his shoulders and backed up into the wall behind him, no longer able to stem the flow of the tears.
Gwen noticed the wind began to pick up steam the more frantic Harry got, so she decided to try another avenue. "James, how to Cam die?" she asked.
Harry's sniffed a bit before answering, "He jumped in the way of the bad magic that man was using on me. I tried to save him, I promise I did. B-but the magic wouldn't work…"
Gwen walked over and knelt in front of Harry, opening her arms in invitation, one which Harry took after briefly hesitating. Gwen took the dissipating wind as a good sign as he cried into her shoulder. She rubbed his back and said, "It's not your fault Harry. Don't you see? Cam chose to do what he did. I'm sure he didn't want to die, but he made the decision to trade his life to save yours, not you."
"But if it wasn't for-"
She squeezed him tighter to stall him for a moment. "That evil man did this James, not you. Bad things happen in life, awful things even. You know that as well as any of us did. We can't take responsibility for what others choose to do. We can only do what we think is right and try for the best outcome we can. That's why I know Cam didn't regret putting himself in the way."
By this point, Mitchell had also knelt down beside them and joined in the hug. "Cameron loved you James, just as we do. We may have only known each other for a couple of months, but you all felt like a real family to me, something I've never had before. Love… that's what lets us stick our necks out for the people we care for, even if we know we'll get hurt."
"He's right you know," Gwen said while smiling slightly. "We love you more than anyone. And we'll be here for every day, every day even."
Harry just nodded slightly in response and continued to hold onto the two of them tightly.. Much to the relief of all present, the dark wind completely disappeared, though the house was well and truly annihilated. Nearly all the walls had been blown out, broken furniture and brick were scattered about and the roof had been cast off to who knows where.
Before the conversation could continue, there was a loud cough from behind them that drew their attention. Harry turned and saw the group from before, most of whom wore expressions of interest or else confusion. Either way, being the center of attention of numerous adults was a bit much for Harry. The sound came from the wizard-y, blue suit man that Harry saw before.
Harry tensed a bit when he saw that the fierce-looking man from before still had his wand out, but his friends gripped his shoulders. Mitchell said, "It's okay, James. They're the ones that brought us to you."
He relaxed a bit, but he avoided looking at the wand to keep himself as calm as he could.
Dumbledore was still stunned from the entity he had seen within Harry's mind. However, he knew now was not the time nor place to linger on that worry. He smiled to help diffuse the tension and said, "We've been trying to find you for quite some time, Mr Potter. You gave a right scare when you disappeared from your family all those months ago."
Harry's eyes narrowed at those words. "They were not my family, they're bad people."
"Quite true," Dumbledore said. "That said, we have much to speak about, much we have to tell you. Mistakes were made - I made mistakes, and we need to determine what to do going forward. It would be best if you came along with us."
"Why should I go with you. I just want to go home with Mitch and Gwen," he said anxiously.
"We should go with them James," Gwen said. "I promise we'll be there every step of the way. But they're magic like you. There are things we won't be able to help you with, things we won't be able to understand."
He looked unconvinced, but nodded nonetheless. If Mitchell wasn't voicing disagreement with her it must be a good course of action.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily at Harry's acceptance. "Come now Harry. I know you can Apparate, but one cannot Apparate to Hogwarts so we'll-" he started to say.
"Oh no you don't Dumbledore," Lucius said quickly. "We came to take the boy home to his real family. Besides, is it really wise to whisk him away to a massive, magical castle? Something a bit tamer is in order given all of, well, this," he gestured at the wrecked surroundings.
Moody snorted. "And I suppose you think that gaudy manor of yours is just tame enough, eh Malfoy?" he said sarcastically. "Like hell we're handing over Potter of all people to a dark wizard like yourself. You can put on all the airs you like, but some marks just don't come off."
Before the bickering could continue, Harry palmed his forehead as he was hit with a terrible feeling of exhaustion. Hours of running, stress and repeated magic usage were taking their toll on him. He fell to the ground taking deep breaths before quickly passing out.
"Oh damn," McGonagall said. She briskly made her way to Harry's side and began casting the few diagnostic charms she knew. There was an indication that he had slightly splinched himself and she didn't need magic to see the boy was enormously exhausted. However, any ill-effects from his near transformation to an Obscurial was beyond her ability to detect.
"He needs a Mediwizard, Albus, a specialist of some sort."
Interrupting the man before he could speak, Andromeda suggested, "My younger cousin Lyra is works at the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungos. She's discrete and she and her husband's home is away from prying eyes."
"If only we didn't have to put up with Goldenboy," Ted muttered to himself. Lucius, however, heard him and groaned at the realization that he too would have to 'grace' the presence of the up-and-coming wizard Ted had mentioned. It was to require a strong drink to survive.
Dumbledore accepted the recommendation; he was far more comfortable trusting Andromeda's selection than an arbitrary healer who might give them away to the Prophet for a few galleons. And while he trusted Poppy instinctually, this wasn't a malady she was likely to have a timely curative for, if one existed at all, and Harry's inner darkness was very concerning for him.
Dumbledore turned back to the uneasy Muggle children and said, "As I was saying, we'll be using an object called a Portkey to transport to our destination. Andromeda, would you do the honors?"
Ignoring the illegality of their actions, Andromeda grabbed a nearby broken chair leg and pointed her wand at it. "Portus." The wooden leg glowed blue for a second. In the meantime, Narcissa was contacting Lyra who, despite being irritable after a 3 a.m. mirror-call, was more than happy to heal her injured second-cousin.
"As Albus has things under control, I'll be taking my leave now to get some sleep after this circus" Moody spat. If the massaging of the area near his severed leg was any indication, he was not taking well to having moved around so much the last twelve hours. "Don't let your guard down 'round this lot, not for second." His warning given, the auror Disapparated to rest.
"Everyone grab ahold," Dumbledore said to the two muggles, who carried the unconscious Harry between them to the enchanted table leg. Once the ten people grabbed the Portkey, they were hooked by the magic and transported to their destination.
(Office of The Daily Prophet, Unspeakably Early Morning)
Rita Skeeter wouldn't normally be at the office at just past three in the morning, but even she had to lose sleep when there was a deadline to meet.
To the British wizarding population she was the ruthless reporter with a penchant for making fools of the well-known witch or wizard. Fudge in particular had it in for her after her expose on his recent blunder with the Soviet Minister of Magic, complete with a difficult-to-obtain photograph of Fudge disrespecting a foreign magical monument by making sick all over it. But to the editor of the paper she may as well be the sole source of profit for the paper given the popularity of the pieces she provided. Sure, she technically stretched the truth from time to time, but so long as most of it was near the truth enough, the errors could be excused as mistakes or even as arguably the truth. The continued profitability of her work certainly didn't hurt things.
Rita ran a well-manicured hand through her wavy, blonde hair as she unlocked her office door, only to notice an envelope on her desk once inside.
"Hang on, the post-elf doesn't deliver until midday," she said in suspicion. It wouldn't be the first time she'd received jinxed or cured postage from an angry reader or subject of her articles. But then again, it also wouldn't be the first time she'd received a tip at a late hour, away from prying eyes.
Rita pulled out her wand and cast a Shield Charm around herself, just in case. The barrier wasn't very strong but it'd have to do. Directing her wand at the envelope, she cut the postage open, with a letter and photograph falling out of the opening.
When nothing happened, she cancelled her charm and read the letter.
Her eyebrows scrunched at the contents. "Oh bullshit, there's no way…" she said.
The letter read:
"Harry Potter has run away and is now missing. I'd best see this in the papers soon or we'll be having an unpleasant meeting. I'll be watching."
Rita snorted at the threat. Not that she had a death wish, but if she wasn't one to be cowed into submission by a bit of paper.
She picked up the accompanying photo and had to do a double-take.
The occupant, scar and all, was unmistakably Harry Potter. If it was fake, it was compelling. He was the right age, and the spitting image of his father. Magical photos were difficult to fake convincingly and this one definitely passed her muster. She did find it odd that the boy seemed to be hurt I the picture, given his wincing and crying.
Rita thought for a minute. "I suppose I could always look into this. He lived somewhere in the Muggle world, so if he's really missing there's bound to be evidence of it there."
She glanced at the letter again. "I'm not sure why they want this to get out. Good Samaritan or not, this might be just the story I need to put Fudge out," she said with devilish smirk.
(Lockhart Residence, Winding Hollow)
"Oooh, he is a cute one, isn't he?" Lyra squealed after Dumbledore carefully levitated the unconscious Harry into the spare room of her two-story Georgian-style home.
The room was your bog-standard guest room, devoid of furniture and decoration aside from the queen-sized bed and small bedside table; she'd convinced her husband that a portrait of himself to keep guests company was not the best idea. She could hear him regaling some of their guests with his most recent adventure over in Wagga Wagga, while her aunt Minerva and her cousins Andromeda and Narcissa followed Dumbledore into the room. She'd had to temporarily disable the Muggle-repelling ward surrounding their property to allow the muggle boy and girl in. The two had gone to bed in another of their guest rooms once Dumbledore assured the two he'd wake them as soon as Harry's condition improved.
Lyra was overjoyed to see her little second-cousin in-person. With the war going on and her having been in her last year of Hogwarts, James hadn't thought it safe to bring Harry out of the presumed safety of their cottage in Godric's Hollow. The baby pictures he sent her were far too cute, it had been a crime to not get to see in person. His messy black hair was practically identical to her deceased cousin's; she ruffled it fondly.
Lyra frowned when she saw dried blood caked onto her cousin's hands and feared for what sort of damage she would find. As she worked her magic to detect the most pressing damage and looked him over physically - his shirt and jeans having been Vanished to save time - Lyra asked, "What am I looking for? It looks as though he was splinched a bit and his nerves seem…" she trailed off as she recognized the type of curse he must have been hit with given the tell-tale traces of spellwork on his nervous system, damage she was all too familiar with detecting. "He was cruciated?" she nearly shouted.
Dumbledore nodded stiffly, acknowledging her conclusion. "He was lured in by an unknown Death Eater, I'm sad to say. Alastor got to him shortly afterward but by then the damage had been done."
Lyra had to use every ounce of self-control she had not to foolishly hex the headmaster on the spot for failing to keep Harry safe. She recalled quite well how her attempts to locate Harry after Voldemort's defeat were eventually met were stern obstructions by Dumbledore that doing so might lead remnants of the Dark Lord's forces to the area in which Harry lived. She hadn't handled it well.
Trying to forget her annoyance at the man, she attempted to wake Harry with a few flavors of Enlivening Charms, but none had any apparent effect; he remained as still and unresponsive as before.
"This sleep of his was magically induced, of that I'm sure. He's practically vegetative. Obviously something is wrong, but the cause doesn't appear to be related to his physical health," she said sadly.
Dumbledore hesitated briefly before saying, "Andromeda tells me you're very discrete and in any case I'm hoping you've loyalty enough to family to keep this secret." He had hoped she might be able to restore Harry without needing to inform anyone that he didn't have to.
"I'd never purposefully hurt sweet little Harry." She pouted at the insinuation and pinched the boy's cheek for added effect. She healed Harry's splinched nipple and soothed his remaining aches and pains as best she could; time alone could lay to rest the effects off the Cruciatus Curse. But as she could find no biological explanation for his unconsciousness, she switched to diagnosing his mind using medically-focused Animency.
Her results were striking in the contradictory information they gave. There was some sort of… taint in Harry and it went deep, maybe further than just a mental affliction. Lyra almost wished she knew an Animentic spell to cause it to react, but alas, it remained dormant despite her failed attempts to analyze it. The Dark Arts had a pleasing aesthetic that had enthralled her for as long as she remembered. It was even partly what had drawn her to Gilderoy in her sixth-year at Hogwarts.
Oddly, there was something else present within Harry in addition to the taint. An extraordinarily positive magic was about him that she couldn't make head nor tails of, but she could tell it went even deeper than the taint. 'Perhaps it's shielding him from it?' she thought. As far as she could tell, this dark magic wasn't always as active as it apparently was earlier, so Lyra could only conclude some new change allowed it to briefly thrive.
"Now are you going to tell me what you know about what happened to him or will I have to jinx it out of you?" Lyra asked Dumbledore testily. "Damn the secrecy, time is of the essence."
"He nearly developed an Obscurus, Mrs. Lockhart," Dumbledore said gravely. "A trick of fate saved him from the transformation, but I fear if we wait much longer it may return for good."
Lyra's eyes sparkled at the mention of the suitably obscure dark parasite. "An Obscurus you say? That explains the dark entity I detected within his psyche. Why, I-I'd give my left bap to see something that rare and-"
"Lyra, we didn't bring him here to be poked and prodded…," Narcissa said in an annoyed tone. She was about ready to jinx Lyra for slowing down her treatment to wax on about the 'eternal beauty of dark magic'.
Lyra waved off her older cousin unconcernedly. "Don't get your knickers in a twist Narcy, I'd never do that to cute little baby cousins. Annoying older cousins are yet to be determined, however," she said with a menacing gleam in her eyes. "I'll be back in moment, I need to gather a couple of things for what I hope will result in a successful treatment."
While the she was gone, Dumbledore frowned as he pondered the results the woman reported. 'Stranger and stranger. As the Obscurus did not truly manifest, there shouldn't be a coherent entity within Harry's mind and yet she and I both detected one… I can only hope Lily's enchantment will hold it off long enough to puzzle it out. He's the only one who can defeat Voldemort.'
A few minutes later, Lyra returned to the spare room carrying a small vial filled with a dark green liquid and bundle of slimy leaves that resembled seaweed, save for their almost black coloration. Lyra proceeded to cover Harry's head with the murkroot, particularly over the boy's famous scar. Murkoot grew in the presence of Dark magic and in areas where Dark creatures lived, thriving on the negative magic they imbibed from being near them. It was even the source of the dark color. It was rather questionable to use the plant medically given the plant's propensity to poison those who are in contact with it for long periods of time. Lyra had needed to acquire it from a seedy establishment in Knockturn Alley for some of her personal research. The preliminary results indicated that it could be used to negate the effects of some Curses on living beings, but the plant would quickly begin harming the living tissue surrounding it. A bit of 'cure is worse than the poison', unfortunately.
Moving out of the way so the other four occupants of the room could see what she had done, Lyra said, "Well ladies - and gent - this is foreign territory. I've not heard of any magic psychological parasite before, and certainly never treated one. But as it is causing Harry to remain unconscious I need to act quickly or risk this state being permanent or otherwise damaging his mind."
Andromeda frowned at the substance she saw covering the top of Harry's head. "Is that murkroot, Lyra?" At her cousin's nod she nearly ran to tear it off him as she hissed, "But it's highly poisonous. Have you finally gone completely mad?"
Lyra intercepted Andromeda with her arm and said, "Andy it's the only way I can get out whatever happened when he nearly became an Obscurial. Once the murkroot has done its job pulling the parasite out I should be able to awaken him with this Wiggenweld Potion, or at the very least pull him out of this coma." She shook the vial of green liquid in front of Andromeda's face for emphasis. Although torn, Andromeda seemed to accept her words as she sighed deeply and returned to Narcissa's side.
Dumbledore sensed that the mediwitch had things under control as she began casting charms to inform her of the progress of her treatment. "I believe Mrs. Lockhart has things under control here. Minerva, Narcissa, Andromeda. Perhaps we should have mercy for Lucius and Theodore?" he asked jovially. "As talented as Gilderoy is, he has been known - to put it diplomatically - to be a world-class showboat."
As the four of them entered the sitting room, they caught the end of Gilderoy's tale. "...And that was how apprehended the Voluptuous Vampire of Voluntari. Yet another town to forever remember me as the hero who courageously fought off a frighteningly ferocious fiend. Alas, I had to turn down a sizable number of requests to father children with the women there. I am, after all, a one-woman man." When the young, handsome wizard flashed his too-white smile, the plastered-looking Lucius and Ted looked looked horrified that they might be the continued focus of his attention.
Narcissa took pity on them and said in false interest, "Gilderoy, you simply must tell me about this shampoo Lyra said you'd concocted. I hear it's simply fabulous."
If only she knew how long the man could go on about hair care products.
(November 19th, 1988, One Day Later)
Harry's return to consciousness was prompted by the sunlight that fell on him from the open shutters of the window beside him. He didn't immediately open his eyes, wanting to fall back asleep after all that had happened the night before. He knew if he opened his eyes, he'd have to deal with it and that would make it real. Maybe he could just stay asleep…
"I hate the sun…," he muttered after sleep proved too elusive, despite his groggy, barely awake state.
Bed? Whatever bed he was sleeping in was far too comfortable to be anything he, Gwen or Mitchell had, which means they had to be somewhere else. Harry's eyes opened and he quickly sat and took a look at his surroundings. He was in a sparse room painted in a light green paint that was pleasing to the eyes. He was about to get out of to see just where his friends had taken him when he noticed the weight on his bed.
Near his knees was a head of long, jet black hair laid on the bed while sitting in a chair that had been sat beside the bed he had slept in. The woman it belonged to was asleep, breathing lightly into her crossed arms as she rested. Harry didn't recognize the woman but wasn't interested in finding out. He quietly slipped out of the bed without rousing her and tip-toed towards the closed door behind her. He still felt quite drained after the day before, but well enough to move around carefully. His head was aching quite a bit, however.
Unfortunately, once he'd gotten a few feet from the bed there was a moderately loud rooster call that came out of nowhere and it caused the sleeping woman to jump up in surprise.
"Wussat?" she said, startled. She turned and saw Harry, whose hair turned light pink to match his blush at being caught. She squealed before saying, "You're awake!"
Harry closed his eyes, expecting to be hurt or at least berated by the mystery woman rushing towards him. What he didn't expect was the strong hug she gave him, much less her rubbing her cheeks on his hair. He stiffened a bit, as he wasn't sure how to respond.
"I'm so glad you're OK, Harry. We weren't sure when you'd wake, you've been asleep for over a day," Lyra said. She kissed his hair before releasing the embrace, embarrassing him further. "Oh and you look adorable in pink, dearie."
"Oh, um, right. Thanks," he muttered as he metamorphed his hair back to normal. "Not to be rude, but who are you? Where am I? Where are Gwen and Mitch?" The woman seemed nice enough, and at the very least he didn't seem to be in danger, but he'd much rather find his friends and leave.
Lyra pointed at herself and said, "Me? Oh Harry, I'm your aunt Lyra. Well, OK not technically your aunt but do I really need to say 'second-cousin'? Who cares about the specifics of our monstrous family tree. Family is family and that's that." She nodded at what she was sure were words of wisdom.
Harry stared at her for a moment and took a cautious step backward. "You're not taking me back to the Dursleys, you won't. I'll fight you if you try." His heart began to beat faster at the prospect of seeing his aunt and uncle and cousin once more. "I'd rather die than go back to them."
Lyra raised her arms and began to speak in a calm voice. "No no, Harry. Not those muggles, I'm part of your father's family. James Potter was my cousin, which makes you my second cousin."
Harry stopped his retreat when he heard her mention muggles. "Are you magic, like me?" he said in a hopeful voice.
Lyra pulled her wand out and said, "Magic indeed!" When Harry spotted her wand, he froze up for a moment, afraid of what his cousin might do with it. But when she conjured a small green snake out of thin air to lay around her shoulders, his anxiety seemed to retreat. Snakes were surprisingly nice animals in Harry's experience.
Lyra, perhaps, should have considered that most children would be afraid at the sight of a snake, but when Harry came up and began petting the snake she continued on, blissfully unaware of her potential mistake.
"Wow, you can magick up a snake? I wish I knew how to do that," Harry said in awe.
Lyra was surprised to see the snake take an interest in the boy. She had intended to conjure a snake with a placid personality to safely prove her point. It began hissing at him, making her worry she had bungled the spell. But when Harry began hissing back at it him without breaking a sweat, the snake would respond after he finished. Her eyes widened at what he was doing.
"Your snake is really nice, aunt Lyra," he said while sporting a grin. "She says she likes my eyes."
"Harry, you're a Parslem-" she began when the door to the room was opened abruptly.
"What's going on here?" Minerva said in hushed tones as she walked in. Spotting Harry, she whispered, "he's awake..."
Harry made an "eep!" sound, hid behind Lyra and peeked out to see the new woman. She was taller than Lyra and looked a good bit older if her slightly graying brown hair was any indication. He was a bit unnerved to see tears in her eyes. Had he done something wrong?
"It's OK, Harry," Lyra said. She patted his head and continued, "That's your great aunt… I think? She can be nice when she wants to. Saturdays are her off day so you're in luck today, I should think."
"Oh. Um, I'm Ja-Harry," he stammered.
McGonagall knelt down next to Lyra and smiled to try and put him at ease. "I'm Minerva," she said kindly. After wiping the tears from her eyes she said, "Would you like to come see everyone? You gave us and your Muggle friends quite a scare."
"Gwen and Mitch are here?" Harry asked hopefully. His nervousness the meeting another unknown adult diminished.
She nodded. "It's a bit early so most are having a lay in. I'll go and rouse everyone for you."
While Harry waited for the woman to return, he turned to Lyra, nervously scratching his arm. "Are they mad at me for running away?"
She shook her head 'no'. "We all were just worried about you. But now that you're back on your feet, would you like to go and meet some more family? They won't bite, promise." She winked.
After hugs and cries of relief between Harry and his friends, adults Harry had not yet seen began appearing from various rooms, evidently having been asleep. Some seemed quite nice, like the pretty brunette with long wavy hair and the man with her, who had shortly cut brown hair; both had nice smiles that made him feel comfortable. Next were a blonde pair. The woman had shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair, and her husband's hair was equally long, though a darker blonde. They seemed nice enough, but their more subdued and composed facial features made Harry suspect they often needed to present a mask of sorts to the world at large. He could empathize with that necessity.
The last was a young, well-groomed man with wavy blonde hair who appeared to have spent a good deal of time that morning ensuring not a hair was out of place and was as lush as possible. He briefly smiled at Harry, who nearly found himself blinded by the brilliant whites of the man's unnaturally perfect smile. He stood next to his aunt Lyra, so Harry assumed they, like the other couples, we're married. It took him a moment, but he soon recognized they were the people he saw in the farmhouse he had hidden in a couple days earlier.
Harry was situated with Gwen and Mitchell on one side of a long, rectangular table used for formal dinings, while his new family sat on the other, with Minerva having just joined them. After introducing themselves, neither side seemed sure how to break the ice with the young boy. Lucius would occasionally glance at the Muggles beside Harry until Ted raised an eyebrow at him.
"Oh say something already, won't you. You're going to frighten him off being so stiff," Lyra said after neither side seemed to know how to break the ice.
"Right you are," Narcissa said in embarrassment. She looked at Harry and let her face relax. "It's hard to know what to say Harry, but we're glad you're OK given all you've been through. Lyra spent nearly six hours operating on you before you were through the worst of it."
"W-what happened to me?" Harry asked. "It felt like my magic turned against me, I couldn't stop it…"
After Lyra explained his near transformation to something called an Obscurial, Harry was relieved that she had saved him. He just wished he'd been able to do the same with Cameron…
McGonagall leaned forward to get his attention. "Harry, could you tell us where you've been? We were quickly alerted when you disappeared from your aunt and uncle's house."
Harry talked at length about what he had been up to since June. There were a few times Harry had to stop and explain how was getting around. The adults were floored at the ease at which he was able to control his magic. Lucius questioned if he could really do what he claimed, so Harry Summoned a book from a shelf on the wall as a demonstration. His explanation that he had recently learned from goblins led to a number of stares, though Harry didn't understand why.
"So what happens now? Aunt Lyra says you're not sending me back to my Uncle Vernon," Harry said in a quiet voice.
Andromeda said, "We were planning to adopt you, Harry. James - your father - was our cousin. We'd be more than happy to adopt you, if you wished to."
Harry was elated by the suggestion. He'd thought the only family he had left wasn't worth bothering with. If he'd known he had a magical family out there, he'd have sought them out months ago.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," McGonagall said.
Narcissa and Andromeda frowned at the her words. "And why not?" Andromeda asked icily.
"Because I was one of the guardians named by James and Lily, none of you were. And while I don't doubt your intentions Andromeda, certain others aren't particularly known for selfless philanthropy." McGonagall stared down the Malfoys, daring them to deny their political tendencies.
"Actually Minerva, I agree with my sister's goals in this case. If you stopped and listened before jumping to conclusions perhaps you would as well," Andromeda shot back.
The professor snorted. "And those goals would be?"
"We're going to start a family coven and take on Morgana as the family goddess. We planned to seek you out soon anyway," Narcissa answered. "I know your father was ever the proud Christian-"
"And my mother, bless her, ensured that I understood father's odd deity and beliefs were not a requirement in our household," she waved off. "Just look at my namesake. I was brought up in the old ways just as you were. What I haven't been told is why this is necessary. Albus was quite suspicious of this gathering and I'm beginning to see why."
Lucius rose to the challenge, seeing as McGonagall would be another asset to the coven. "Dumbledore is currently at a summit for the International Confederation of Wizards covering an issue that explains the necessity of this."
McGonagall seemed surprised at this and gestured at Lucius to continue.
"The Dark Lord is not vanquished as many foolishly deluded themselves into believing. Worse, the blood supremacy movement he champions is spreading on the continent, Bulgaria especially. There are even some indications that it's gained a small foothold over in the States. The signs are the same as they were here: A substantial increase in public support for domination over Muggles, sporadic but rising street violence against prominent citizens who seek a more peaceful coexistence and moves to rapidly reshape governmental bodies and policies towards the ultra-conservative end," Lucius summarized. "Having been unwillingly part of it before, I can say that we don't have long to begin making decisive moves to mitigate and build a coalition against this before it becomes worse than it ever was before. With a coven, we can quickly jump-start our efforts and attain powerful protections for our families, including Harry. Dumbledore is brilliant and knows many people, but he lacks the political inclinations and organizational infrastructure to develop a preemptive political response of the appropriate sort. That's what we are proposing."
"Well you can count me in, obviously," Lyra said with devilish smirk. "Coven rituals allow for some devious enchantments once you've completed the required steps. You'll help me with those, won't you Gil?" she asked while tugging on his earlobe playfully.
Gilderoy chuckled at his wife's innuendo. "Why I do believe I can allow for some openings in my busy schedule. One must make sacrifices to hold true to their religious commitments." Andromeda gagged.
As she twirled a crow pendant hanging around her neck, Lyra said in a more serious tone, "Besides, it's not as if we need to get along swimmingly for this to work out. The benefits of calling on blessed magic makes up for some familial, er, awkwardness… goodness this bloody family is too mad for its own good."
"I still believe it to be foolish to discount Albus," McGonagall said. "He has widespread support and is the only one You-Know-Who ever feared."
Lucius accepted her words with a nod. "And for all that, what has he done in the previous seven years to ensure the Dark Lord and his supporters do not retake power? Did he use his political allies to draft legislation to substantially deter the Twenty-eight from supporting such fanatical ideologies? Has he, perhaps, taken the office of Minister of Magic?"
McGonagall sighed and shook her head, so Lucius pressed on. "I don't mean to berate the man or tear down your respect for him. I don't pretend to understand why he doesn't capitalize on his popularity to take power for causes he believes in. But whatever those reasons are, they won't do us any good once… Voldemort regains his former might."
McGonagall's lips thinned as she considered Lucius's words.
'It wasn't entirely unreasonable and the unrest elsewhere in Europe was a concern, even more so if You-Know-Who was behind it somehow,' she thought. And as much a McGonagall had tried to distance herself from her mother and grandmother's family due to their dark reputation, she couldn't hold Narcissa and Andromeda accountable for having a malicious prick of a father.
As the silence dragged on, Harry - who had been listening to the exchange in confusion - said, "Am I getting adopted or not?"
This brought the attention back to the boy, who'd been briefly lost in the shuffle.
"Yes," McGonagall said.
"Good because Mitch and Gwen are going wherever I go-" he began.
"Yes to both," McGonagall continued, nodding at Lucius. "I'd like to think I'm sufficient to raise Harry in James and Lily's stead, but I've never raised a child before. If nothing else, the coven will make it easier on both Harry and I."
"That is excellent news," Lucius said in obvious relief. "With you we have ten of the needed thirteen. Augusta Longbottom and Carina Crouch were the next we intend to seek out."
McGonagall agreed with the selections. At the very least, Augusta's position on the Wizengamot would give them greater political pull for their efforts there, but Carina was interesting.
"Why Crouch, if I may ask? Her her husband Bartemius is highly placed of course, but his star has somewhat faded and who's to say he would be okay with his wife joining our number? A Covenant Ritual isn't something Crouch would ever allow himself association with, even by virtue of his wife." McGonagall's face bore a very skeptical expression, one which the others understood.
Lucius coughed into his fist nervously. "Crouch is quite… averse to the Dark Arts in many respects, I'll grant you that. But as he proved in the War, he will make concessions where necessary. With their son dead and their daughter not much younger than Draco, I believe we can convince them of the benefits of this."
McGonagall shook her head. "The Crouches are well-protected, and not many would even dream of attacking their home considering Bartemius's own magical power. What could we offer he and Carina that they can't obtain themselves?"
Lucius smirked. It wasn't often he got to engage with such a sharp intellectual in conversation. "With a bit cunning and preparation, I can help Crouch get what he has long desired but been denied: the position of Minister of Magic."
Save for Narcissa, every adult's eyes widened at his declaration. But just then Harry groaned in impatience due to being forgotten about again.
Andromeda had an interesting idea. "Harry, would you like to meet my daughter? She's at school but we can call her home from school. She's very similar to you," she said with sweet smile.
Harry figured whoever this person was, they couldn't be as boring as whatever the rest of his new family was talking about. He got up and followed Andromeda toward the living room, with Gwen and Mitch in tow. "Can she do any cool magic spells or something?"
Andromeda ruffled Harry's hair before grabbing a fistful of green powder Harry didn't recognize from a tray beside the fireplace. "It's a surprise. Just don't get too carried away, Nymphadora doesn't have an ounce of self-control when she starts having fun."
While Andromeda was off occupying Harry, Lucius and the others wrapped up their conversation regarding how to persuade Crouch. Gilderoy had left the dining room to pick up the morning edition of the Prophet, while Lyra left to draw a warm bath after a long night sleeping in an awkward position. Lucius was sitting quietly with Narcissa, but had not yet voiced his intentions to her regarding the Muggles accompanying Harry; they would have to distanced from the boy somewhat, for their own good.
McGonagall sat in the unoccupied chair beside Lucius and asked, "What's in this for you personally? To be frank, you are the quintessential politician."
Lucius closed his eyes and briefly considered how to answer her. "My family's safety and the future success of my son. He's not likely to survive long in life - none of us are - if we're having to worry about situations like this threatening our lives routinely."
"So you expect me to take your noble intentions as the sole reason?" McGonagall scoffed. "Please Lucius, I'm not some delusional voter you're trying to charm."
"Oh goodness me, no. The windfall I can expect is substantial. By comparison, the chaos whipped up by Voldemort would leave my family's financial future in jeopardy." He laughed slightly before saying, "Besides, I did recently vote to extend wand-bearing rights to goblins come New Years. I don't make a habit of giving charity."
McGonagall had no doubt Lucius was being honest there; surprisingly, his reasons didn't annoy her. She assumed it was because it worked for the benefit of those she cared about as well.
"We have a problem," Gilderoy said as he walked into the room looking uncharacteristically distressed, a frown marring his usually cheerful face. When he set down the morning's Prophet, the reason was apparent.
BOY-WHO-LIVED: KIDNAPPED OR KILLED?
This intrepid reporter received an anonymous tip that Harry Potter, vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has been taken by dark forces unknown and hasn't been seen for months. The reader, no doubt, wonders how this can be if they're only hearing about it now? The answer is as simple as it is typical.
Politics.
Muggle records indicate Mr. Potter was kidnapped from the home of his Muggle relatives near the start of June, the same time as which the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - at the behest of one Albus Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic himself - made several discrete moves to keep this news quiet so as to save face.
But can we really trust such authority figures who cannot even keep a boy safe? One who miraculously overcame a terror like no other? And then proceed to lie about their failures by omission? Let the following exclusive photograph serve as proof enough of the incompetencies of our Minster, Cornelius Fudge, and the questionable decision-making abilities of our Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore. The fate of Mr. Potter is unknown at present.
Below the headline was a picture of Harry on the ground, clearly in agony and helpless against his attacker.
"Bloody hell," Lucius said in frustration. The last thing they needed was to be forced to play their hand so soon. But this needed to be contradicted before the populace panicked in some fashion. Still, this could work to their favor...
(Unknown Location in Spain)
A young, handsome man with short brown hair sat alone in his base of operations in northern Spain. The small home was hidden from the prying Muggles. He was consuming his simple breakfast of eggs, bacon and a glass of cool milk when the post-owl arrived. Despite being in foreign lands, he was still able to receive prominent newspapers from abroad thanks specific allowances made for Portkey use by media companies. As owls were much too slow to spread important news across continents quickly, major news agencies were allowed limited use of reusable international Portkeys to send copies of such news to be disseminated elsewhere.
The young man pulled out his precious wand and was briefly entranced by it. It was practically part of him. He delicately to summon the paper to his hand. As he read the headline, his blank expression quickly morphed into something resembling extreme happiness, though to most it would seem a demented look.
"Most excellent," the young man said to himself. "He's not dead, of that I am sure. But how to get to him?" He pondered what to do with the information.
'Even with this development, there's little chance I could get to the boy easily. Dumbledore will be on the lookout for anything even remotely suspicious.' he thought.
The hooting of the post-owl broke him from his musings. Though tempted to curse the owl, he knew news agencies kept track of which owls were delivering to which consumer. No sense in drawing attention to himself.
Mr. Sayre,
Our records indicate your subscription to The Daily Prophet is to be terminated if you do not pay after the delivery of this morning's edition. Please pay as soon as possible so as to keep yourself abreast of the goings on, courtesy of number one recommended newspaper in the United Kingdom!
The young man snorted and deposited to require amount of money into the envelope tied to the post-owl's leg and watched it set off.
"We'll see how this progresses first before acting overtly."
Next chapter: The Coven of Albion
(A/N): What'd you think? Review, favorite and Follow!. Sorry for the late post, busy busy. I had some issues with this chapter, but I decided to post it anyway. Next chapter should be put together a bit better, and the plot can get moving better.
Note: "Animency" is just what I'm calling all spells that deal with affecting the mind.