Chapter 3

Revelations

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk in the office for the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, somewhere in Scotland. The school was hidden from the world by charms, wards, and other protections started by its founders and strengthened and modified by the one thousand years of headmasters and various teachers adding their own magic to them.

He sat, hunched slightly, sifting through a small stack of paperwork on said desk, and going over the resume's of a few witches and wizards who applied for the perpetually open position of Defense of the Dark Arts professor. This year, like every year before, there was a smaller list of qualified teachers. Every year it became more and more difficult to recruit competent educators to the position. Word finally spread throughout magical Britain that the position was cursed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Daunting as it was to continue looking, Albus was determined to find a suitable candidate again this year. He would then resignedly spend the school year drumming up more applicants for the following year.

While he worked his eyes drifted to a whirling, silvery, and spherical contraption on a table in the corner of his office. This was the ward monitor surrounding his self-imposed charge, the last of the Potter line. He had to keep this boy safe until it was time to sacrifice him in fulfillment of the prophesy he heard so long ago. He reckoned it could only be completed in that way. His age blinded him to any other possibility, so he did what he felt he had to do by denying the boy a loving home and healthy childhood. Preparing the boy for what he had to do. Dumbledore's long term goal of permanently defeating his former student and protégé Tom Riddle was hanging in the balance.

He paused in his paperwork to take a second glance at the monitor. It wasn't actually whirring any longer. It was completely still. This was the third time this month. The Dursleys likely beat the boy unconscious again. He would have to go in, fix the boy up, modify all their memories, and all without really changing the way they treated the boy. It was for the greater good. He hoped he wasn't too late. Sometimes that family could really hurt the child. Sometime in the future, he would have to make sure they didn't beat Potter as much, but rather used their tongues to keep him in his place. It would be so much better than a wizard such as himself having to continually repair the damage and modify memories.

As he gathered his wand and his traveling cloak, he paused at Fawkes' sharp warning trill.

"I know my friend, but I must. It is the only way." Albus left and Fawkes flashed out to seek out his other self, knowing he returned from the future, but not knowing why. He also sensed the bond with Albus was no longer in place in this returned Fawkes. It was a greatly disappointed phoenix that awaited the return of his bonded and an explanation from himself as to why he had returned to this time.

Vernon, Dudley, and Petunia Dursley were just sitting to supper when a knock came at the front door. Grumbling about the 'rudeness of some people' interrupting their repast; didn't they know it was the 'proper' time for the evening meal?

Opening the door Vernon asked "What is it?" with barely suppressed anger at the inconvenience. But when he noticed who was standing in the doorway, his demeanor turned even more surly as he hurriedly motioned the headmaster into the house at Number 4 Privet Drive.

"I am sorry to disturb you Mr. Dursley, I am Albus Dumbledore. I am headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I believe Petunia knows of me?

Petunia nodded, and glared at the old man whom her husband just ushered onto her immaculately kept living room rug, but did not voice her ascent.

Dumbledore continued unperturbed, "Would you happen to know where young Harry is at the moment? I have a message from a mutual friend I must deliver." Albus Dumbledore lied in an almost exasperatingly patient tone of voice. The voice used when one talked down to those considered beneath your station.

"I know who you are, and we don't want your kind anywhere near us. Just you showing up with your funny dress on in our neighborhood will make us the target of busybodies for weeks. As far as the boy is concerned, we don't know where he is, and furthermore, I don't rightly care to where the brat has gone off." Vernon erupted. "If he's gone and gotten himself into a spot of trouble, it'll do him some good being caught by the Bobbies. Maybe they can whip some good behavior into the boy; Lord knows I haven't been able to all these years." This last was said almost as a whisper, but the wizard didn't miss the comment. However, he also did not react to it in any way. He merely smiled replied. "When was the last time you saw him, perhaps I could find him if given a reference point to start?"

At this point, much to the chagrin of his parents, Dudley spoke up, "Last I saw him, he was chasing us near the school and he just disappeared. Afraid for my life I was, we thought the freak was going to murder us!" The lie was told as smoothly as the truth would be and for a second, Albus had the impression Dudley was telling the truth. For that is exactly what Dudley believed on the surface. He spent so much of his time re-arranging his stories to reflect poorly upon Harry that in the end, he believed them himself. But Albus was not one of the most gifted legimens in the wizarding world for nothing. He was able to gain the truth of what happened from the mind of the boy. In fact, it came through quite clearly. Albus finished watching the scene and realized that Harry was forced to apparate in order to flee from his antagonizers. He hoped it was not so long ago that he would not be able to track the apparition.

Albus begged pardon and made to leave, but as he did, he drew his wand and in the blink of an eye, the Dursleys were made to forget his visit, Harry's 'disappearing act' as well as anything that might lead them to thing Harry was gone. As far as they knew he was locked away in his cupboard and they wouldn't have use for him until the morrow. That would be plenty of time to trace the boy, modify his memories, and return him to the care of his relatives he thought.

He thought…

Materializing into existence silently took finesse garnered from years of apparating combined with a more than average dose of magical power. There were not many in the world who could appear as silently as the esteemed Headmaster of the most respected school in the wizarding world.

As was his intention, he silently appeared near the school the whale-child of Dursley and his gang was chasing Harry around earlier in the day.

He picked up right away on the trace magic of apparition near where he assumed Harry disapparated. Feeling around for the residual magical currents, faint as they were, he still felt them point out a direction. Albus went with the flows and found himself on the roof of the school. The apparition was only a short distance, but he realized it was effective in getting the boy away from his tormentors.

He looked around for Harry, who was no where to be found. There were not many hiding places on the roof, but Albus diligently checked each one and each time finding the spot empty and with no magical trace of his target.

He barely noticed a familiar magical signature, but just as quickly dismissed it as being impossible and continued his search.

Fawkes left Hogwarts feeling the pull of his other self coming back through time. He appeared in the same room as the Young One and his other self from the future.

For a few minutes they conversed as phoenixes are want to do, but in the end, the business of time travel was discussed. The Harry-bonded Fawkes explained almost everything to himself and as he did, he passed some memories along. Not enough to alter the bonded relationship between Albus and Fawkes, but enough so that Fawkes understood the reason for the return. With a parting nod, he returned to Hogwarts and reflected upon what he was told.

Some time later, Fawkes looked down upon his charge and nudged him gently on his shoulder to wake him. "You must arise Young One we must reset the wards on this place so that you may not be found. My protection is good only for so long and I'm afraid the headmaster is already looking for you."

Harry woke feeling much refreshed and stronger still than he expected. The memories were merging and he was finding it easier to access the knowledge from his almost seventy years of experience as a wizard in his previous life, though this mind and body was only eleven. He had the memories and remembered the feelings that were associated with those memories, but they were distant. It was another's life lived. Not his. With this gift, he could make sure they were never his feelings of grief and sadness, though; the happy memories stirred something within him.

The first thing he wanted to do was eat, but Fawkes as well as the portrait insisted he reset the wards. He searched his memories of how to do such a thing and came upon the answer. He walked over to the portrait of his grandfather and touched it.

"I claim this home, Godric's Hollow, as my rightful inheritance. Let no other pass onto these lands without my express permission."

He felt a great force clamp down around him as the sounds of birds, crickets, and other fauna disappeared from the background noise and all was silent but for his own breathing and the over-loud heartbeat he heard first then realized it was his own. Even Fawkes was gone. This panicked him at first, but it wasn't long until he realized what happened.

He knew that even house elves weren't exempt from the wards around his home. His mother and father, while in hiding, had to hide from everyone, including house elves in the employ of Death Eaters, so they strengthened the wards so as to not allow any living creature entrance to the lands.

Fawkes called to him from outside the wards, for as soon as he was finished setting them, his familiar found himself expelled from the premises. Harry, with a mere thought, granted Fawkes permission to pass and instantly he reappeared on the arm of the couch where he was perched previously.

"Well done Harry, well done indeed!" exclaimed the portrait version of his long dead grandfather Harold Potter. "Please tell me how you came to be here now that you have rested."

Harry told him of his childhood and of what he knew about why he was only now able to come to Godric's Hollow. When he finished, the incensed portrait claimed that given the ability to affect the world again with more than words, he would strip Dumbledore of more than his magic; he would relieve him of his burden of living upon the earth. Harry could tell from the portrait that it was more than possible his grandfather could have done just that in his youth.

His grandfather's pause in his rant gave him time to change the subject. "Now, I'm hungry. I have to find something to eat." Harry said as he looked back and forth between the portrait and his familiar. "Grandpa, were there any house elves bonded to the manor?" This was something he didn't know, as if there were any before when he was this age, there weren't when he finally found the manor destroyed by Bellatrix Lestrange in an attempt to lure him out of hiding while he was preparing and training to meet her master for the final time.

"Yes, there is one…" his voice trailed off, pausing thoughtfully, "though not here, I dare say he is not enjoying his current charge." He continued, "He was sent to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts, though he should still answer your call should you choose to bring him home. His name is Baird and he is a gentlemen's elf. Very proper that one. Wouldn't be a bit surprised if he didn't give you a tongue lashing for looking the way you do. Go on then," he gestured toward Harry with outstretched arms "call him home Harry, but be sure you let him through the wards before you call or he won't be able to come." the portrait reminded him.

Harry reached out with his senses and granted the house elf permission to come and go as he pleased then called aloud, "Baird…"

An elf, slightly taller than most elves Harry recollected, appeared instantly in front of him. He swept a piercing gaze over Harry and after a moment of contemplation, he bowed, "I am Baird, and you are young Master Harry. You look awful, have you eaten anything in the last 6 months that wasn't watered down? And what are these clothes you're wearing? I don't like this, not at all!" The little elf hardly paused then went on. "I hope my time at that school is come to an end?" he voice betrayed the fact that he felt disdain for being relegated to working at Hogwarts so long.

"Yes. I require a friend whom I can trust implicitly. Are you bonded?"

"Thank you Master, I grow tired of serving children not of the Potter line. Albus Dumbledore has requested that I become bonded to him or the school many times Master but I serve only Potters in that capacity. It's time I returned to the Hollow and fulfill my vows. I am already bonded to you Master as you are the last of the Potters." He finished with an almost unperceivable "and it looks like you could use my help too."

"In that case, can we get something in here to eat do you think?" Harry asked as a sound much like a rumbling motorbike came from his middle. Immediately Baird went toward the kitchen and became a blur. Not even Dobby could match Baird's pace. By the time Harry settled in at the table and Fawkes on the back of one of the other chairs, Baird was finished. The broken dishes and furniture were repaired. The curtains mended, cleaned, and re-hung in the windows magically. Everything shined as if new or newly polished in some cases and not a speck of dust could be found.

Baird bowed, "Master Harry, I will be coming right back sir. House Elf conjured food has to come from the Master's pantry and cupboards. There is no food here. I will be going to get some, but I need access to your vaults so I may purchase the food and other such items as we may need." He said this all the while eyeing the clothes Harry was wearing with a look that had Harry wishing he were starkers instead of clothed the way he was.

Harry wondered how he was going to give his permission to the elf when he knew his key was in the possession of Dumbledore. When he gave Dobby permission in the other timeline, he possessed the key already. If he got a new key, the old one would disappear and that would alert the headmaster he had access. But sensing his question before he could ask, Baird said, "You only need give me a letter signed by your own hand that allows me access. I will present it to the goblins upon the initial visit. I can then pop in and out without needing to pass through the bank. No key is required for Potter house elves." He then waved his hand and an inkwell, quill, and parchment appeared on the table.

As Harry sat to write the letter, he couldn't help but feel a little melancholy. He remembered missing his owl Hedwig. Oh, he did not personally miss the owl, but he remembered missing him, and it was nearly as bad.

Pushing the though away for another time, Harry sat to write the letter.

To whom it concerns,

Please allow my friend, the house elf Baird, access to my vault; number 687 as he needs. Would you also seal my vault from all others save my elf and me? And would you do this without alerting the person 'holding' my vault key? I am willing to pay the fees associated with these services.

May your gold continue to flow,

Harry Potter

He sealed the letter in an envelope that appeared as he finished the letter and handed it to Baird who took it with a slight bow. With a slight pop, he was away leaving Harry alone with Fawkes in the kitchen.

He looked to the phoenix and asked, "Well, shall I explore? I didn't get a chance to last time around?" Fawkes nodded but did not stir to follow.

Harry headed upstairs leaving Fawkes behind. The illumination by candlelight followed magically where he went in the house. Winking out as he passed and lighting up in the direction he traveled. The stairs led to a landing on the second floor at the end of a long hallway that was lighted, but didn't have windows except at either end. Walking down the hall, he passed several rooms, noticing as he went that the house was much larger than he originally thought.

He passed the room where it happened… The room Voldemort cast the killing curse at him and his mother. The room where his mother's sacrifice paved the way for his continued existence. It was, he noted with an angry scowl, a place that seemed cheery. Golden snitches decorated the walls and stars twinkled as if real on the night sky painted on the ceiling. He guessed correctly that since it was nearly nighttime outside, the sky was painted with a night scene, but if he visited the room during the day he suspected he would see a golden sun and lazy clouds floating across a brilliant blue sky. Perhaps even a rainbow to complete the effect of making it as cheerful as possible.

Leaving that room behind, he came upon the room where his parents slept at the end of the corridor. It was a master bedroom decorated in light earth tones and the barest hints of the Gryffindor house colors. A red and gold lampshade, the golden curtains with red trim, the carpet was a light color, but with flecks of red and gold that brought the whole room together. It was nicely decorated, an almost professional job he noted. He thought it may have even been the work of his mother. Her presence was certainly felt in here. As was his father's. The closet was filled with their things, though ruffled as if someone shifted them several times looking in pockets and looking behind them.

The dressing table was appointed with his mother's things. A brush, a mirror, her makeup and other such accessories lined the back. A discarded purse showed signs of rifling as well as most of the contents were scattered across the top. His father's things were mostly in the night stand near the bed. A book lay with a marker in it. Next to it was a stained ring where obviously a cold drink sat for some time before being taken away. Harry slowly dragged his finger across the book, then the stain, thinking all the while that these were his parents things. These items were all he had left of them. He held no real memories of their lives with him. The only memory from his previous life was a short snippet the Dementors gave him in the throws of their magic. He could hear his father telling his mother to take him and get out, and then his mother was begging for his life, then a flash of that sickly green that faded to black, then nothing. It was almost worse than having no memory at all he thought.

But something caught his eye on the floor near the nightstand, but slightly under the bed. He bent to pick it up and found it was a small notebook. He could feel the magic coming from it as he straightened with it in his hands. He opened it and found a short note made out to him.

Harry, my wonderfully mischievous son, I am writing this to you as we lay here this morning, the day after your birth. A seer came by to tell us of a prophesy concerning you. I have managed to enchant this muggle notebook so that only your mother, you and I may see it. Me and your mum, to write in it as you grow up, and you so that if something happens to us, you will have some part of us. Something to let you know we love you very much.

Harry didn't know what to think. His parents left him a journal of sorts, it was in their words, but about his life. He couldn't wait to read it, but his stomach reminded him about his need for food. He hurriedly closed the notebook and tucked it away in his oversized pockets of his oversized britches then headed back downstairs hoping Baird was already back with supper.

When he arrived in the kitchen it was to a whirling dervish as dishes and food seemed to float in a tornado around the kitchen before settling on the table. It was a feast fit for a king. Though he knew he could only eat a small portion of it, he dug in quickly and quietly. He was halfway through the meal when he noticed Fawkes and Baird both staring at him. He swallowed and looked from one to the other and said, "Well, don't just sit there you two, eat!"

"I am not hungry Master Harry. I am not so starved as you and I have eaten today already. With what you don't finish, I will tend to my needs." he said simply. Fawkes agreed it seemed since he didn't move from his perch.

"No, I don't want it to be this way. Please sit and eat with me Baird. You and I may be bonded with me as your master, but I'd prefer if we were friends and equals. Please sit with me?" he turned to his familiar, "Fawkes, you know how I feel. Please come over to the table and eat." He was almost pleading, and neither could resist his beckoning. Fawkes flew over to the table where Baird was piling a tray with fruit, nuts, and fish for him. When he was done with Fawkes' tray, Baird sat to a seat and fixed a portion of the feast for himself. To his surprise, Harry handed him a glass of juice.

"Go on, take it, it's just pumpkin juice."

"Thank you Master Harry. I like pumpkin juice very much."

Harry then did the same for Fawkes, though he poured the juice into a bowl and not a glass. Fawkes thanked him and took a long pull from the bowl then continued to eat.

Exhaustion overcame Harry as he finished his supper. He bade his companions goodnight as he climbed upstairs once again. Only to find himself in the master bedroom and climbing into the bed where his parents used to sleep before they died protecting him. The last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep were of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. He needed to contact them both. Remus first obviously, but he also had to get Sirius free from Azkaban as soon as possible. And he had to do it without alerting them of how he knew what he did.

Sleep was restless, but not plagued by nightmares as they did before the merger in either lifetime. It seemed that the bonding with Fawkes and then his other self had permanently rid him of the side effects of the scar. He wondered if he could still speak with snakes…