A/N: Thank you for what interest you have shown in this! I can't really explain where this story is coming from, just that it is coming and I want to do it justice, do it right. Also, I do intend to have some fun with certain people. I'm sure you'll see what I mean.
JohnyS: Yes this is a Harry/Fleur fic, that is what those brackets in the description mean. Not to mention, Harry will have more understanding of her disdain for humans and their prejudices because he will see them more clearly, and maybe experience some of them himself, though that I haven't decided yet.
As of yet, I do not own any part of Harry Potter, only the race that I have used for Mr. Potter. I wish that Jo would listen to me and give me full control of her world, but sadly she does not believe that I would be able to make it even bigger than it currently is. Not to mention she is worried about my sanity, at least that was the impression I got from her when I asked.
September 1, 1991
King's Cross Station, a place Harry never truly believed he'd visit. His future after being saved by the Delacours was always up in the air, the school he was to attend never entering the picture as a certainty until this summer, and now that he has made his choice he finds himself standing in the middle of London in a place that holds so much meaning for so many. To him however, the only meaning it holds is a tiny piece of history for those believed to be his parents, and the separation from the family that he has come to know as his own over the last three years.
Head held high, the dark haired boy walks through the hidden arch behind the barrier, tugging the lapels of his well-fitting suit in nervous anticipation of the explosion of noise on the other side. The moment the muggle world is left behind, the general quiet and directed bustle of the station is left behind and exchanged for violent colors, the raucous jumble of owl and cat voices, and disjointed bits of laughing conversation mixed with sneering pureblood condescension. The chaos of the platform is disconcerting to him, even with his preparation for it and the fact that he was already aware that British magical society puts less stock on organization than the French do.
He is still standing in place just inside the arch when he receives a gentle yet insistent push from behind, forcing him to step forward or risk falling into the crowd as Eveline glides through the illusory wall, Gabriel very nearly attached to her hip. The tall eleven year old swipes his dark hair from his eyes and turns to them with a smile that is only a tiny bit strained. "Is it too late to go back home and join Beauxbatons?" he asks without any real hope, already turning back to the press of people and preparing to embark on a so-called 'adventure'. The soft and musical voice of the Veela behind him replies with hidden laughter, "Yes Harry, it is too late to go to Beauxbatons. Their term started a week ago, remember? Otherwise I doubt you could have kept Fleur from being here, it was difficult enough to convince her that letting you go to a different school was in any way a good idea."
The Boy-Who-Lived gives a heavy sigh and acquiesces, "I was afraid of that. Oh well. I can be comfortable in the knowledge that Hogwarts is in no way ready for me, both as a member of society trained by some of the best in Europe, and as the first of my kind to be seen in over a century." He tries to step through the throng to enter and claim a compartment on the scarlet train, a color choice he believes to be garish and maudlin, when he is almost grounded with the impact of a tiny sobbing blonde cannonball. "H-Harry, I don't want you to go! What if you meet someone better than us, what if you never come home? What if-what if they don't let you come home? What if you meet someone prettier than Fleur?" For a moment she is silent, then she mumbles into his chest words that he would have missed if his hearing wasn't a bit better than human, "What if you leave us? I don't want you to leave us."
Hearty and soft, his chuckles disarms the sweet little girl attaching herself to his waist and he kneels down to look her in the eye, icy orbs holding sapphires with the intensity and affection in them, "I will not leave you, Gabby. I am coming back, I will make sure of that. Nothing in this world will keep me from returning to France as often as I am able, and that means at Christmas too. You are my family now, you saved me, and you know that there is no way I could ever leave family behind. I was left behind and forgotten once, I will never force someone else to experience that."
He stands tall and resolute as he regains his feet, one hand caressing the box in his pocket, reminding himself that this is real and he is here. The feel of his shrunken trunk is enough to reassure him of what he is doing, and in this moment that is all that matters. Eveline breezes forward and takes his free hand in hers, a half-hidden emotion in her gaze. "Be careful this year Harry. We will see you when you come home, now go. Go before I change my mind, and remember to be better than they expect, be who you truly are." No more words need to be said and she gives him another gentle shove, her eyes swimming with an emotion he half-remembers seeing and her spine straighter and more rigid than it ever has been before.
Purpose driving him and pride controlling his actions, Harry strides forward and climbs into the train, originally preparing to seek out a quiet compartment. That plan is shot to hell the moment he passes through the door and is greeted by a muted quiet, pulling his armor away just a bit as he casts his gaze around. The car he finds himself in is very different from what he expected to see based on the outside of the train, and it appeals to him in a way that he did not hope to experience.
The decor is grand and actually quite understated, with the gas lamps held up by elegant and simple silver sconces attached unobtrusively to the dark green walls. The benches bear the same taste, dark green cushions trimmed in silver thread, the dark wood well-carved and appearing comfortable. Even the windows are different than he assumes the rest of the train would be, stained glass set in a coat of arms he recognizes from Alain's education about this school. The Boy-Who-Lived turns to observe those in the car already and is unsurprised to see the same silver and green on the robes of the older students.
The somewhat exhaustive political training that Alain forced him to undergo kicks into gear and for the first time he does not resent those hours spent. On the far end of the car in what is obviously a place of honor, a boy with dark hair and calculating brown eyes verging on black smirks at him, light glinting off of a small silver badge. It is a little difficult to observe the details from this distance, even for Harry, but the fact that the letters 'HB' take up almost the entire pin tells him that this must be this year's Head Boy. The girl with dirty blonde hair beside him has no such badge, and yet the posture of those around her and the Head Boy make it clear that she still holds authority in the House, likely through a relationship with him.
At the table with them sit another pair of girls, both of whom are wearing badges with a 'P' on them that marks them as prefects, almost the entire power base of Slytherin House sitting before him, their interest purely seeming to be on who he is. With a shrug, he steps further into the compartment and scans for others he can put a name to, prominent British families running through his head as he searches for those who are reported to be in his year group. Immediately he recognizes Blaise Zabini, having met him a few times before at Ministerial events on the continent and commiserated on being forced to attend when they could be doing literally anything more interesting. A reserved nod is given and answered, then he continues to assess.
There are only two more students he can even guess at the identities of, though he is aware that there are a few more that are meant to be in his year that have a familial history of being in the Serpent's Pit. The black-haired beauty with the sea-foam green eyes and the immobile mask fits the description of the heir to the Greengrass family, notoriously a Grey and rather neutral house among British society, and yet also one of the most influential votes in the Wizengamot. The family itself is moderately well-known to present the front of being cold and aloof, their masks hiding a sharp and vicious tongue backed by a quick mind. This girl seems to be no different, her eyes assessing him as he does the same to her before moving on. The blonde-haired boy with the ugly sneer and the 'I'm-better-than-you' attitude really could only be the Malfoy scion.
His father was rumored to be one of Lord Voldemort's closest advisors and his major financial backer, yet after the war ended he claimed to have been under the influence of the Imperius Curse and was given a ministerial pardon. The not-Potter was shown a photograph of Lucius Malfoy and warned specifically about him due to the rumors that still surround him in the rest of European society as well as the not-so-hidden control he has over the current minister via bribery. This boy who obviously believes himself better than the rest of them looks almost exactly like him.
Harry is also aware that he is meant to be attending with the heir to the Davis fortune and business, said to be a girl, along with the daughters of the Parkinson and Bulstrode families, both of whom are supposed to be moderately wealthy and consistent supporters of the Malfoy bid on whatever goes through the Wizengamot. With no clues to lead him towards identifying any of those three, the dark-haired preteen pulls his trunk from his pocket and gives a small pulse of his Wild magic to trigger the re-sizing charm Alain had specifically enchanted into it for ease of transport. As he is lifting it into the overhead, a self-assured and disdainful voice calls from behind him, "So the rumors are true then, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." A deep sigh tumbling from his lips, he turns to the source of the disturbance and simply raises an eyebrow, waiting for the blond imbecile to continue, filing away his correct assumption with very little satisfaction. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. You'll want to be careful who you associate with, don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." the boy drawls, thrusting his hand out at the end of his self-aggrandizing speech.
Harry lets it hang there for a moment, then just before he can be seen as rude reaches out and clasps it briefly. "Thank you... Draco, was it? I think I will be just fine without becoming one of your lackeys. You see, I know all about your family, I'm even distantly related to you. My grandmother was Dorea Potter nee Black, but I'm sure you knew that. After all, your mother is her niece, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, sister to Belatrix Lestrange nee Black and Andromeda Tonks nee Black. I hope for your sake that the rumors about your mother are true and she never took the Mark, it is said to taint the soul of whomever bears it."
Dropping the Malfoy Scion's hand, he continues with the smallest hint of condescension in his lightly accented voice, "Your father however I know more of. I know that he has the ear of the minister, and that his opinion carries so much weight because of the money that he greases Minister Fudge's palms with. Money that comes from his perfectly legitimate businesses, though many of them are reported to be covers for a less than entirely legal monopoly on the trafficking of Dark artifacts, books, and even... shall we say, bought souls? He is a politically powerful man, but you are an eleven year old. You do not have his capitol, so I think I shall have to manage without your assistance." With that he turns away from the stunned brat and strides forward to take a seat across from the now truly frigid mask of the green-eyed girl.
With a small smile that does not reach his eyes, the dark preteen holds out his hand in offering and formally declares, "I am Harry Potter, and it is my very great pleasure to meet you miss...?" He leaves his words hanging, inviting her to introduce herself or not, though it is obvious to all watching that he is aware of how a refusal to answer his inquiry would be perceived. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Head Boy nodding at him in approval, a slightly less acerbic sneer on his face as he watches the new player. His hand is shaken far more quickly than he himself had done for Malfoy, her voice piping up pleasantly, "Greengrass. I am Daphne Greengrass, and something tells me you already knew that and were simply being polite. That is very kind of you Potter, as now I find myself wondering what else you know."
They share a guarded chuckle at that before she waves to indicate the elfin-faced girl with the mousey brown hair sitting beside her. "This is Tracey Davis, the only friend I have ever had growing up and a truer one than I deserve." It is with a more open and roguish grin that Harry takes the girl's offered hand and brushes a faint kiss across her knuckles, almost purring, "It is a pleasure to meet you. I know of your family but I was unsure if the rumors were true." Fear seems to flit through her eyes as she inquires what rumors he could mean, but he puts her mind to ease with his reply, "House Davis had a daughter first, and her connections were ironclad from the very start. You know, though the family that took me in is not themselves involved in the shipping business, I know that Davis interests are, and France is looking to expand trade. Though the British Ministry is attempting to prove trade is still profitable for them, if House Davis were to make connections with some of the companies of La Rue de la Magie, it would help your government and your house. I could ask my guardian to contact your Head of House if that is something you believe he would agree to."
The train lurches briefly as they begin their journey, causing the Malfoy boy to stumble and Zabini to grin at his misfortune, and then they are off. If the introductions to these yearmates of his are any indication, Harry could be in for a very good year. Almost immediately they begin to discuss which house they hope to join at Hogwarts, though their choice of train car does make that a little obvious in most cases.
It is as he is disembarking the train in Hogsmeade that Harry next has an opportunity to observe and name some of the students. The crowd flocks to a giant of a man with wild hair and a bushy beard that Harry is half-convinced he could hide in, his rough voice booming out with the call to the first years. There is a girl with hair nearly as bushy as their guide, a book hugged to her chest and her mouth running a mile a minute as she spouts off facts that she has read. She is not immediately recognizable as a part of any prominent family, so for now he ignores her in favor of the boy she is very nearly browbeating with her superior fact-retention. Though he is slightly pudgy and rather timid, it is obvious from his face that he is the son of Frank Longbottom and his wife Alice, both of whom are renowned even in France as exceptional aurors. Their disappearance in 1981 is rumored to be related to Voldemort, though instead of an attack by the Dark Lord, it was an attack of his followers desperate to find him after his downfall.
Not far removed from them stand a set of twins, their Hindu features marking them as the daughters of the relative new-comers to Britain, the Patils. Though in the Isles their family does not have much influence, in India they are one of the major exporters of spices and fabrics, supplying much of the world with the silks that Magical India is very well known for. Perhaps it would be possible and even beneficial to bring them together with Tracey Davis? A consideration for another time.
A loud and rather rude redhead wearing second and third hand robes and a smudge of dirt on his nose is asking vociferously if anyone has seen Harry Potter, Harry Potter was supposed to have been on the train, he needs to find Harry Potter because they are going to be very good friends. From the color of his hair and the state of his clothes, the Boy-Who-Lived assumes him to be a Weasley. Though they are poor and the current patriarch has been placed in a bit of a joke department in the Ministry, they are an old family with a history of ties with the Potters and other Light-minded families. They are unique among those in that faction however in that they also have a history of allying and negotiating with families in the Grey, attempting to win favor, votes, or influence from the neutral votes. It is obvious in that one moment that this boy does not have the political ambition to even begin to live up to that history.
To say that Harry is disappointed in his the results of his appraisal would be a decently large understatement, since he is actually quite upset that Britain has stagnated to the point of very little promise in political endeavors. It isn't until he steps into the boat he is to ride in across the glassy waters of the lake that he catches sight of someone who could very well be a valuable ally to him. Just to his left, a girl with rusty auburn hair slides into the boat the Patil sisters have taken for themselves, her corn-haired friend joining her. The red-haired girl is the one that he is interested in however, the strength of her jaw so reminiscent of the director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. That her brother and his wife were killed during the war is common knowledge, as is the fact that she has a niece who lives with her now, and it seems that he has found her.
The boat ride itself is uneventful and very nearly uninteresting, at least until they round a bend in the shore and are treated to their first look at the castle. The massive stone structure reaches to the skies as if to rip them down, exuding an impression of ancient power and the intelligence of centuries walking through its halls. Something about it calls out to him, a feeling of belonging and purpose attempting to settle into his heart and mind before he shakes them free. The taste of that subtle magic is familiar to him, though he is unsure why or how, and shrugs it off with nary a thought.
The boats bump into the docks below the school and the students disembark, excited whispers buzzing through the air now that they are so close to their destination, eager to be sorted and join the ranks of Hogwarts. Harry can hear a voice accented of Horsforth in the north of England begging anyone who has found a toad to say so, but he cannot pinpoint from whom the distraught supplications originate. It isn't until they are standing in the foyer of the Entrance Hall that he is able to rectify that, purely by dint of having found the toad and following the voice.
As the students around him part, the Boy-Who-Lived comes face to face with the Boy-Who-Bounced and holds up the amphibian in his hand. "I heard you asking if anyone found a toad. I did as a matter of fact, is he yours?" The plump boy stares dumbfounded at this obviously Pureblood boy holding his toad that he doesn't even think before crying "Trevor! Thanks mate, I owe you for that. I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom." One hand takes the toad and the other hangs in the air as he hopes this mysterious scarred boy will take it. It is to the surprise of all around him that Harry replies, "Harry Potter, Longbottom. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am told our families were close once. I would welcome the opportunity to make them so again."
The ghosts have already come and gone, noticed by no one and unwilling to intrude on this moment, but the Deputy Headmistress is standing in the open doorway, a faint smile on her lips as she watches and waits. He looks so much like she remembers James looking as a boy, but there are several obvious differences that for now she simply brushes aside. He seems healthy, so perhaps she was wrong about those muggles.
The crowd around the Potter and the Longbottom goes wild, but the most raucous exclamation comes from the gangly boy with the orange hair. "There you are Harry mate! I was looking for you everywhere on the train, thought you might need some help with stuff. I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley." In his annoyance at the boy's presumption, Harry forgets to control his temperature when he shakes the offered hand and the Weasley boy yelps in shock. "Bloody hell mate, you're cold as ice! You alright?" The Potter is very relieved when he is rescued before being socially obligated to answer that moronic question by a very closed off Daphne. She doesn't say a word, she simply takes his arm and attempts to lead him away, though the Weasley bellows at her, "Get away from him, snake! Harry doesn't need no dirty evil Slytherins touching him!"
It is then that the forbidding woman in the doorway speaks up so as to avoid losing control of the increasingly volatile first-years. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor. In a few moments, we will be going through those doors to have you sorted into your houses. While you are here, your house is your family, and you will be expected to behave accordingly. Any exceptional behavior or displays of aptitude will gain you house points, any rule-breaking and you will instead lose them. Follow me." McGonagall turns on her heel and marches away, obviously expecting to be followed without question.
Harry is astonished by his first look at the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the long tables obviously meant to seat all four houses and the ceiling far above well-enchanted. The Bushy-Haired-One pipes up again with her facts, telling anyone near by authoritatively that the ceiling is meant to mimic the sky outside, a little tidbit she plucked from the pages of Hogwarts: A History. However, what she and her facts cannot explain is why there is a dilapidated old hat sitting on a stool at the front of the hall, at least not until a rip near the brim opens up and it begins to sing in a toneless voice.
"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
There is silence for several moments following the end of the song, and then thunderous applause. It is as the cacophony dies down that their Deputy unrolls a scroll and begins to call out names. "Abbot, Hannah" has the dirty-blonde friend of the Bones girl stepping forward to take her seat on the stool, the hat falling over her eyes. After several moments, the rip opens and bellows out for all to hear, "HUFFLEPUFF!" A rather squirrel-like girl steps forth when "Brown, Lavender" is called, and she becomes the first Gryffindor. Terry Boot becomes the first Ravenclaw, and Millicent Bulstrode catches Harry's eye as she becomes the first Slytherin of his year. Though she is hefty and appears bullish, he can see a quiet sort of intelligence in her eyes, almost like she is used to hiding it.
Bones joins her friend in Hufflepuff, a Kevin Entwhistle joins the Ravens, notable only because no one reacted to his name, marking him as the first muggleborn to be sorted this year. The know-it-all joins the Lions, her bubbly effusiveness at that news and her joyful exclamation at being in the same house as Albus Dumbledore was summing her up perfectly. She is joined by the Longbottom, a fact that makes Harry a little sad as he is sure he will not be in that house and he has already seen how the school looks at Slytherins. He can also see that the Ravenclaw students are either withdrawn or haughty, the former seeming happy to be left alone the the latter seeming to hold the rest of the school in contempt for some real or imagined fault. All houses obviously look down on the Hufflepuffs, disdaining loyalty and hard work in favor of bravery, knowledge, or supposed cunning.
Daphne joins Davis at the near-silent table of Slytherin, and the rapidly thinning crowd of first-years begins to buzz with excitement. 'Soon it will be my turn' seems to be the general gist of the whispers, though there are a few that are either boasting about where they will go or worriedly speaking of where they would like to go.
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw trade off new students for a few minutes, each taking a seat and sitting for at least a few seconds before their house is called. When it is the Malfoy Scion stepping forward however, the hat isn't even set on his head before it seems to make a face and bellows out "SLYTHERIN!" The sneer on his face is triumphant and smug, almost as if to say 'Now it's time for me to take my rightful place as leader,' yet the Snakes do not seem enthusiastic about adding him to their number. Greengrass even looks disgusted, her green eyes seeking out his as if to say 'Don't abandon me here.' A few more get sorted, including Theodore Nott, the heir to a family of decent money but little influence. Alain had told him that if he met a Nott, he should attempt to influence him, bring them back to respectable society.
Finally, it is down to the last few students. A rather snooty girl with a face that reminds him of a pug is called forward, apparently the daughter of Edward Parkinson, Lucius Malfoy's most influential supporter. The sycophantic way she was hanging onto Draco during the train ride to Scotland causes Harry to believe that she is attempting to use that alliance to gain his attention and possibly a contract for his hand in marriage, though what she or anyone could see in the self-centered little bugger the Potter will likely never understand. Then it is the moment that apparently the entire school has been waiting for.
"Potter, Harry." At those two simple names, the hall falls silent, an air of anticipation generating an atmosphere so thick that the Boy-Who-Lived can very nearly taste it. All eyes are on the dark-haired boy in the impeccably tailored robes, many of them fixating on the six radiating lines of scarring around his left eye. As the hat descends over the bridge of his nose, the boy wonders to himself what is actually to occur when a voice seems to speak just behind him. 'Well well, what have we here?' Only being educated about legillimency and occlumency keeps him from jumping off of the stool and setting the hat on fire, the voice chuckling as it pick up on that thought as well. 'A shame you only know of them eh? Now let me see... Oh you are a puzzle aren't you? Plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind either, and a thirst to prove yourself. Where to put you?'
Harry smiles just a bit before speaking up in his own mind, 'I think not Gryffindor, if you don't mind. They seem a bit rowdy, and at least one of the first years already has a case of hero worship. I would prefer not to live with that every day.' Again the Hat chuckles in his head and speaks in that old and wise voice, 'That is a very brave thing to say, very much part of who they are meant to be. However, I see the honesty in you and think you are correct. That said, there is really only one place to put you now, and it is for the best. You could be great you know, and they will help you on the way to greatness, there's no doubt about that.' The Hat bellows out its choice for all the hall to hear, shocking those gathered with the cry of "SLYTHERIN!"
Sweeping the hat off his head, Harry hops off the stool and strides to the table on the far left, the trim of his robes shifting to silver and green and a Slytherin crest appearing over his heart. It is silent for his entire walk, sound only beginning to return once he seats himself between Davis and Greengrass and they applaud politely, if rather happily. The remainder of the Sorting goes by before he notices any of it, and it is only as Blaise sits down across from him that he realizes the feast is about to begin. At the head of the room, an ancient man with flowing white hair and a beard so long he has to tuck it into his cord belt stands and waves his hands. "Welcome all to the start of term feast. A few words before we dig in: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!" With that, he seats himself again and stares at his plate expectantly, and as if on cue food appears on every table.
Even as life returns to the Slytherin table, Harry is peering at the staff table in order to place names to faces. McGonagall he already knows, having been introduced to her with the other first years after crossing the lake, and the old man must be Albus Dumbledore. There is a tiny man with dark hair and a rather impressive and well groomed mustache who fits the description of Filius Flitwick, a part-goblin duelist who won five years straight on the international stage. Since Hogwarts has no dueling club and he was renowned for his use of charms, it seems likely that he is here as the professor for that class. The dumpy but happy woman is covered in dirt, so she would be the Herbology professor, meaning that she is Pomona Sprout, a magical horticulturist who received a small amount of acclaim when she managed to successfully cross a Venomous Tentacula with a Venus Fly Trap, creating a somewhat intelligent hybrid that was capable of devouring most pest species.
Of the other professors, none hold his interest half so much as the man with the lank, greasy hair, black eyes, and perpetual scowl. He matches the description and the photos of Potion Master Severus Snape, a spell-crafting prodigy with an uncanny knack for potioneering. Though Harry does not know of any original potions to his name, Snape had published several years previous an entire collection of revised potions that simplified the brewing process while simultaneously making them more effective, most noticably the condensed form of the Wiggenweld Potion. Of course, Harry is also aware of reports that Severus and James Potter did not get on well in school, and that it is quite possible that he would continue to hold a grudge for his ill-treatment at the hands of the more popular Gryffindor. The man also happens to now be his Head of House.
While the Boy-Who-Lived is assessing his professors, Albus Dumbledore looks over at him with a frown on his face. It is very unnerving that Harry should return to Britain so very different than Albus believed he would be. After all, the Chief Warlock had placed him in that muggle house for several reasons. First, he wanted him to be safe from those seeking revenge for their fallen lord, a wise decision as it turned out when Bellatrix Lestrange and her little group of cohorts attacked the Longbottoms. It was a miracle that the Longbottom heir survived that night.
The second reason was that he wanted to protect Harry from his own fame. Dumbledore was aware that Harry himself had done nothing to defeat Voldemort, but the wizarding public would not see it that way. Instead they would laud him as the savior of the wizarding world, and having experienced that himself when he defeated his former lover Gellert Grindelwald, he did not think it would be prudent to allow a young boy to grow up with that level of adulation. For proof bearing that out, he need look no further than the Malfoy boy, who though he is not loved by every wizard and witch in Britain was raised to think himself better than others, something that almost assuredly would have happened had Harry Potter grown up in the magical world.
The third reason was the belief, admittedly a likely erroneous one, that family is absolute. Though he and his brother do not get on well to this day, they are still family and so make the attempt every Christmas to sit down and have one day where Aberforth can set aside the things that Albus has done. It is for those breaks from the weight of his actions that Dumbledore lives. At the time he left young Harry on that doorstep, he believed that simply because he was Lily's son, Petunia would take him in and care for him, setting aside over a decade of resentment of her sister. In retrospect, that was likely not a very accurate assumption purely because of how bitter the woman had become in regards to the magical world, to the point of refusing to go to her own sister's wedding purely because she was a "freak."
When Harry disappeared three years ago, Dumbledore was frantic. All of the monitors that he had for Number 4, Privet Drive had gone dead in unison, which meant that either Harry had died, the wards had fallen, and consequently someone had found him and he had died, or someone had taken him, and he might have ended up dead in that scenario as well. It was with great relief that he learned from the Dursleys that some foreigner had taken Harry before assaulting them and turning them into animals. After looking into their memories with a passive legillimency probe, he learned a more accurate course of the events that occurred. A relatively young man, around the age James would have been were he still alive, had come up to Vernon Dursley and rather curtly asked why he had been beating the boy. The fat muggle's response had been verbally abusive, caustic, and degrading, resulting in his summary transfiguration into a walrus, along with his son becoming a pig and his sneering wife a braying ass.
It had certainly eased his mind to see and recognize Alain Delacour, the Deputy Minister of the French Magical Government, was the one to take Harry from his abusive family. What concerned him was the surcease of all tracking charms he had for the boy's health, which led him to Gringotts to double check with Ragnok nothing untoward had happened to him. After all, while he appeared to be Alain Delacour, there was no guarantee that it wasn't a sympathizer of the Dark Lord under Polyjuice. The goblins with their magical wards and other traps would have seen right through such a ploy. Instead of the marginally helpful reception he had hoped for however, Ragnok froze Albus out of the loop, one chilling remark beating against his brow more than the rest, "You are fortunate that he is mostly unharmed, Dumbledore ManyNames, for to the Nation children are more precious than gold, and he more than most."
To then see this self-assured lad walk into the school looking almost nothing like his parents and in possession of a bearing more befitting royalty, it rankles the Supreme Mugwump. The only familial marker the Headmaster can discern is the messy black hair of the Potter line, the eyes that so defined Lily Evans having disappeared. There was something about this boy that was out of place, but he could feel the same magic that he felt that long-forgotten night nearly ten years ago. This boy is the same one he held in his arms then, telling himself that the choice he was making was the correct one. So why then does he not seem the same?
Once again telling himself that his actions are for the best, Albus reaches out with a passive probe as he has done so often before, intending to skim the surface thoughts and possibly a memory or two, but he meets... nothing. There are no thoughts, and certainly no walls, and fear begins to collect in his mind. What kind of child is capable of such a powerful occlumency technique?
A/N 2: Okay, here we are at the end of chapter two. I had originally written this out last week, but through a not funny comedy of errors lost all 6000 words. Not wanting to try to write whilst in a funk, I put it off until now. Anyway, here we go! Read, review, ask questions, whatever.
Now obviously, I stated in the Sorting section that Harry knows what Legillimency and Occlumency are, but he is not capable of them. Not in so many words, but the Hat does kind of say that. Harry is not going to be a mind magic savant or anything, that's not what his people are about and I don't want to give him too many advantages over all of creation because dear GODS I hate those stories.
That said, any theories? :D I know we're only two chapters in, but surely some of you have ideas by now, right?