A/N: I have put in much effort in this chapter. Hopefully it should be error free(And to your liking). I just might have a Beta now. Hopefully the quality of writing will improve. I am in process of re-editing early chapters! This will mean slower updates. Thank you people for reviewing!
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and JKR's works.
Baba Yaga was in her kitchen humming while she cooked up her breakfast. She had arrived at her house late in the morning. The cool breeze and light of the forest had gently woken her up from sleep. She was amazed by the wonders a good night's sleep could do; she seldom had that. Now, she was preparing for a grand breakfast. There was an air of excitement around her as she worked her way in the kitchen. An occasional smile would grace her face whenever she thought about the success of the last night's ritual. It meant freedom, like a weight being lifted from her shoulders and now she could be herself. Peace and contentment washed over her as she realized she needn't fight with herself, constantly debate every decision she made. She had finally achieved what she had yearned.
She could definitely feel the new vibe in her house. The house too responded to her joyous and carefree attitude this morning and had changed it colors to brilliant green with occasional strips of yellow and black. The cool winds from the sea would breeze through her house and the sun above was just perfect to just sit outside and enjoy alternate sensations, coolness from the air and warmth from the sun.
She couldn't stop glancing in the mirror whenever she would pass through. Her eyes were brilliant violet with pupil colored black. The shoulder length hair was white in color just as before and was more silky to touch. She gently touched the skin at the base of her neck. The scar didn't fade away at the ritual and she could feel it against her fingers. It would never go away and it served her as a strong reminder of the trials she had gone through. It also signified why she had gone through with it.
She lay down the dishes on the table along with the newspaper folded besides orange juice and platter full of biscuits. The baked beans and mashed potatoes lay on either side of her table and cottage cheese was sprinkled over them. She had also prepared a dish of spiced mushroom salad and made porridge mixed with honey. The odd combination of food didn't bother her. She was quite content with the hot and sweet dishes prepared. She paused in between her sips and glanced around what to take eat first. Her tongues salivated with anticipation of tasting mushroom salad while her stomach wanted the big bowl of porridge and mashed potatoes.
Occasionally she would eat boiled eggs, or make an omelet but the new food suited her just fine. She would mix up various herbs and condiments into her food to make it more interesting. Sometimes the whole recipe would take a turn for worse but she didn't mind the occasional disasters. And speaking of herbs and various plants, it was high time to employ or create a corpse to do the work of her garden.
She liked to see how her plants and various flowers grew but shoveling up dirt was a bit or work for her. She could use magic but a corpse would be much more useful to do more trivial works around the house. She glanced at the daily prophet and smiled. It seemed that today was the birthday of Harry Potter. She skimmed through the headlines "Daily Prophet wishes a very happy birthday to the Boy-Who-Lived." Only quote that caught her attention was of Albus Dumbledore saying 'He his fine and healthy and enjoying his birthday.' In her opinion, this Dumbledore guy held too much power; she was quite aware of how power proceeds to corrupt and wondered if this man had truly resisted the temptation of such power. He could easily lord over the common people and whole of Britain if he wanted.
It was a gentle reminder of the task ahead of her. No one had seen young Harry Potter ever since 'That Fateful Night', Dumbledore had him hidden quite well. A gentle curiosity trickled in her, she too was curious to know how the boy survived the killing curse. She was weary of experimenting with that particular brand of magic, the killing curse in specific.
With her stomach full and proceeded towards her garden. There was a small clearing devoid of any life at the far end of the house; this was where her dragon usually lay and it hurt Yaga to know he was not there. She had purposely kept the land lifeless in remembrance of him. She did want something similar like her dragon but she decided to postpone it to a later date. She would need to know current 'laws' before she could bring a dragon hatchling here.
She plucked skeletons from her fence and added various bones to outline a human skeletal system. The fence was proceeded to entwine with each other to fill the gap left after Yaga had took down skeleton parts. The wards placed by Yaga were most complex in nature that could rival Fidelius Charm. She had thought about everything ever since she came back to live here. Blood magic formed the base of her wards while various sigils and runes were etched on the skeletons. With the power over the element air she could summon the mist to guard the boundaries and outside surroundings if someone wandered this way. There was also a level of sentience in the wards and her home and each were designed with a specific purpose.
She recited a long string of words in her native Slavic language and proceeded to add a significant amount of 'Black goo' as an adhesive between bones. Finally she added a drop of vitality separated from her own blood and watched as the skeleton built its bone structure and a layer of muscles and skin. The ritual ended when she spoke with a firm voice. "You live to serve. You live to do my bidding. Thus mote it is!"
A corpse of approximate five feet height rose to meet Yaga, the green glowing in the eye socket would frighten many but Yaga was unperturbed. She proceeded to give her memories of the work to be carried out and watched critically as the corpse did what she had told. It would've been a lot easier if she would just dug up a fresh grave but that would involve travelling to a grave and she didn't want to go through all that trouble. She watched as the skeletons placed around the fence and wondered if she could add various flowers to cover the skeletons.
With a silent thanks to the spirits she departed back to the house.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his magnificent office chair and took a deep sigh. He had fought tooth and nail with Cornelius Fudge about Harry Potter. It seemed to Fudge that with the Boy-Who-Lived at his side he was all set for being minister for years to come. Albus Dumbledore had no intention on letting the minister get his hands on the boy. The purebloods who had escaped Azkaban held posts in the ministry. Albus was now dearly paying for this particular oversight. He should've been more careful in dealing with the followers of Voldemort. Snape knew all about them and he, Dumbledore, could have influenced Wizengamot. It would certainly enhance the image of him but Bartemius Crouch was already advocating strong measures against various followers. So he was contented with rescuing Severus. He had to admit that the behaviour of him did nothing to convince the wizengamot of his alliance with the rest of the group. People had been frowning onto him ever since he openly defending Severus Snape, while several Death Eaters were pretty convinced otherwise.
And so he let go. He was tired of the war, it had been going on far too long and he had hoped that ministry would take care of it. Apparently he was wrong. It also convinced him that the ministry would remain incompetent as ever and it also reinforced the beliefs that only he knew the whole truth and only he was capable of making the right decisions. Albus had wisely kept his mouth shut after he saw death eaters walk free. The thought of them aiding Voldemort back a body terrified him and crippled him. Crippled because of the prophecy; it quite literally took away his chance at glory of defeating Voldemort. Moreover, he had come to realization that Voldemort was an even match to him. Gellert too was an even match but at that time he was not sporting 'Elder Wand'; he was the underdog. He was terrified at the aspect of losing one of the Hallows to Voldemort. Voldemort already had morbid fascination with death and he did not want to further that particular interest.
His interest slowly returned to the lone heir of the Hallows by blood. Harry Potter. One part of him absolutely refused to give him any information of his ancestry. Such power was too much for Harry Potter to wield and he was sure that only he could handle it. He wondered for a brief moment if this was the power, the prophecy power over death, the incidents surely indicated that this was indeed the case. There was also the case of her mother's sacrifice and thus he was not sure anymore what had actually occurred over there.
His mind was spinning with half-formed theories and conclusions but inside he was glad that he had put Harry Potter at a place where no one could influence him. In few years he would be at Hogwarts just like every other muggle born and he would try to influence him to his side of views.
He wondered briefly if he should give him a visit if all was right but thought about it otherwise. The instruments in his office indicated that he was just fine, or not in any danger. He had quite given up on checking the room which delivered the fan letters to a separate room in Hogwarts. Every other birthday a humongous pile of letters would be delivered in the room and Albus had no intention on seeing a room piled with mountains of letters amongst others things. Also, he was aware Lily's sister and her aversion with magical things and thus had taken precautions so that they may not be disturbed with a mundane things like owls and letters.
Severus Snape was walking purposefully into Diagon Alley scowling at people if they dared look at him and smile. He crept into the Flourish and Blotts and eyed the new "Boy-Who-Lived on an Adventure" books with distaste. While people were eyeing the books with interest and he could see girls buying the books with a definite blush on their faces.
"Pathetic." Snape muttered. He went about his purchase of various books and snagged a book on his way out. Snape had developed a strange hobby of sorts. He would buy the books featuring on Harry POTTER and tear out page by page after reading it. He had developed his trademark sneer that would frighten any first years that were sorted in houses except Slytherin. He had accomplished this when he had casually picked up the first ever book featuring the 'Boy-Who-Lived' when no one was looking. The boy featured here was an exact copy of his arch-nemesis James Potter. The same unruly mop of hair, the round glasses; the only thing different was him sporting his scar.
For some reason or another, something would happen to make his mood quite sour this very exact day. The previous year he lost a bet to Minerva, the year before that was a potions mishap. Snape was convinced that this was a bad day and it was all Potter's fault. What else could it be? Snape strolled out thinking about how he would spend his night tearing apart the book page by page. He had just one last thing to do as he retired for the day. His mood lightened considerably as he walked into the apothecary store. Perhaps this day wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.
After five years of diligent efforts he had been claimed as a renowned potions master in Europe. Now, he would check out the apothecary establishment he had heard so much about. The more exotic ingredients were seldom available in Diagon Alley as it caused many people to frown upon them. The one's available at darker establishments were not as good as any potion master would expect them to be.
He proceeded to hand over the list of ingredients to the manager. He immediately complied to gather the required ingredients, Snape was pleased by the swift action of him. His eyebrows went up as the last three ingredients were added to the list. He usually had to take a roundabout trip in Knockturn alley to collect the rest of it. He took great pleasure in reminding Rolling, lollin whatever his name was what a waste of time it was and how one could not find all ingredients at a proper apothecary store.
With a swift movement that could shame a snake he gathered up the ingredients and observed them carefully. Giant Lichen's skin, wing of an Orange Dragonfly and fang of water snake and he put them down, not finding anything wrong with them. The wings were carefully plucked and perfect. The skin of the lichen was carefully peeled out, like a potion master would expect. It was perfect, indeed. He fumed when the shopkeeper had the audacity to smirk at him. He just had to retort but more importantly he had to find out who delivered them.
"Quite a good collection you've got there." Snape said honestly and eyed other glass jars with greed. The shopkeeper was delighted at his comment and Snape smirked inwardly. He hoped he would just blurt out where he had been getting those beautiful potion ingredients.
"We also have quite exotic collection if you are interested in…" He said offhandedly and proceeded to total the amount and Snape handed him the required amount of purchase.
"An exotic collection you say…?" A hint of eagerness melted in his calm steely tone and he winced.
"Yes." The shopkeeper then proceeded to give him a glimpse of what he had in stock. By the end of the shopkeeper's dialogue the eyebrows had disappeared in the greasy hair of potion master Severus Snape.
"Ashwinder's fang… Dementor cloth…?" Snape's voice was now laden with awe.
He shook out of stupor and sneered,"Just where are these things?" His eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked at a small piece of Dementor's cloth.
"How…how much is the cloth?"
"110 galleons and 6 sickles." Came a smooth reply. Rollin smirked as he watched various emotions displayed across the face of the potion master. Gone were the days where he would listen to his snide remarks and bite his tongue just because he was a customer.
"Selling Dementor's cloth is illegal! I'll have you reported to the ministry." Snape hoped he would cower and give in a huge discount.
"I run a respectable establishment Mr. Snape and I won't tolerate such lies. A potion's master such as yourself should know that the only ban on potion ingredients is selling of human parts which are incidentally quite easily available in Knockturn alley." Rollin's said coolly with a firm tone. Snape winced at the sharp retort. He hated people who bested him but here he could see no way out of this except apologizing and so he did, grudgingly.
"Would you take a receipt of withdrawal of 110 galleons from the Gringotts?" Snape hoped that he would knock off the 6 sickles.
"It was 110 galleons and 6 sickles before Mr. Snape. The current price is 125 galleons 8 sickles and 10 knuts and I insist on paying upfront about this." Rollin wondered briefly if he had tipped his hand in anger but he was better off even if he lost a customer.
Snape left in fury with the cloak billowing behind him, but not before he had one last look at the cloth. Snape's day had been soured and it was fault of the potter brat. 'Damn you POTTER!' he thought and he disapparated.
In the house of Number 4 Privet Drive, a young boy could not understand how it was his fault that it was his birthday. It seemed that he had been punished because it. Uncle Vernon wanted to prove that he was a layabout and nothing good would ever come out of him. He had understood his place in family long time ago. It wasn't hard when he was given less food than 'Dear Dudders' and denied vehemently with a scathing remark if he asked for more. It wasn't hard to know that he was a servant in this house and he would be out on the streets if he was no longer useful to them.
He lay in his cupboard and sang silently, "Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me."
Yaga was applying finishing touches to the sigils carved in the home of Godric's Hollow. Ever Since the fidelius broke, there was not much security around the place. It was evening time and the people who had flocked over here had departed. Some still lingered in the graveyard, but that was not a concern with Baba Yaga. After cancelling out the proximity alert charm and a charm which seemed to inform someone of intruder, she had placed a ward and thus she was not disturbed. She had finished the work and the final triangular arc of revelation sigil coupled with the impression sigil. She intended to know the flow of magic in this room at a specific date, the date where Dark Lord met his end. It would also display the magic of Dark-Lord and Harry Potter. With final piece in place she poured water mixed with a drop of her blood over the sigils.
Water effortlessly guided across various channels on the floor, soon the connection was complete. Baba Yaga spoke the magic words,"Revealio!" In an instant the walls had disappeared replaced by magical aura all around. The floor on which Yaga was standing was a pleasant dark blue while the crib was showing remnants of white aura mixed with gold(something like eagle eye when switched on in assassin's creed game). She waited for some time as two bright balls came rushing in. Soon a she felt a another magical aura enter the room. It was not hard for Yaga to recognise who this was as his aura dripped of Dark Magic. And yet, the magic seemed fractured or different the most of wizards she was used to interact with. She briefly wondered if this was the reason he was dead but soon decided otherwise. A black wisp came gliding out of his wand and claimed one of the lights orbs from the surrounding.
'No, the Dark Lord's magic was not fractured. Perhaps it was a different kind of magic that appeared to be fractured', she mused. She filed the information for later use. At the back of the mind, she recognize the familiarity of the scene; Yaga had attacked villages after she lost control. But being a bystander was a new thing to her and she watched with a sudden sadness of this family being teared apart. Her sadness evaporated instantly as Voldemort cast a killing curse at the boy. Her eyes fixated on the scene playing out as a brilliant white light engulfed the room. The curse backfired and destroyed Voldemort to pieces. She had to shield her eyes at the amount of power displayed by the boy. Only one word escaped her lips,"Impossible..."
Her expression of awe changed to horror when she saw the wraith of Dark Lord glide out of the room, while there was a stench of darkness from the boy, and she could see it fighting with the white aura for dominance. No it was not death trying to snuff the light, but Dark Lord himself trying to establish in a small boy. The wraith of Dark Lord didn't concern her much as she pegged it for a ghost or sorts. It was quite well known that people would sometimes refuse to crossover and stay in the world. But this was a very real threat to the boy and her heart went out for him.
She appeared at her home in a flash and paced around anxiously. She could not stand not knowing what happened to the boy; worse she knew it would probably be overlooked by the people as a remnant of the killing curse. She also wondered how it would affect the lad and if his life will ever be the same again. With a quick decision, she cast a 'point-me' spell and not get any results.
'Wizards today think they are so intelligent in making various spells' She murmured. The name 'Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived' etc was blocked but they could never block the 'Point me charm' aimed at a magical signature. Just like when a sample of the blood was all one needed to track down anyone, same applied to magic. They could block the spell which used 'power of names' but they could never block magical trace if it was well known.
She smiled at the challenge and cast her version of the spell.
Harry Potter squirmed at the sight of the dursleys eating happily. He was hungry and eating a loaf of bread did nothing to quench his hunger. His eyes glued to the dishes kept on the table. Various emotions stirred in him as he watched Dudley munching down food. As irritation and hunger gripped him he saw the utensils vibrating around him. He shook his head and made his way outside. There was a definite possibility that he would do something to anger the Dursleys. He sat outside on the front lawn, tears glistening on his cheeks.
He watched the street staring nothing in particular. In school he would get proper lunch to eat but it was time of holidays and he was stuck here most of the time. He couldn't even go out to play with other kids as no one wanted to play with him. He had nothing to do except do mindless chores assigned by her aunt and steal food in the middle of the night. He wondered if this would go on till his entire life.
His eyes stared at a particular lady standing right in front of the house. No one seem to notice her while her face was focused in his general direction. He stared back to her with a steady gaze and watched in utter fascination as bright red light seemed to pass through entire boundary of the house. The lady seem to move forward till he was near to him. His gaze still didn't waver from her face. He now seemed transfixed at her bright violet eyes.
"Are you Harry Potter?" the lady asked. Harry could only nod. His eyes refusing to move away from her eyes. The lady moved the bangs that hid his scar and stared it intently. Then her eyes locked onto him.
"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter." She whispered softly almost lovingly.
A/N: Leave a review. It takes only a moment and helps me write better.