DISCLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you've seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. The rest is mine - although I cannot quit my day job as I make no $$$ from this…
A/N: Okay, so this Dumbles is not a nice person. But he is not Voldemort evil.
Now for another bit of fun I like to have…
And because this Chapter ends in a bit of a cliffy, I will be posting the follow on later this evening.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: FALLOUT
SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1988
While Harry, Hermione and the others were discussing magical heirs and prophecies in the hospital, the rest of Wizarding Britain was awakening and sitting down to their morning breakfast which invariably meant the morning paper. There were six magical dailies in the British Isles: The Manchester Owl Post, The Edinburgh Specter, The Irish Wizarding Daily Voice, The Birmingham Banshee, The Lancashire Guardian and The Daily Prophet. Of the six dailies, the Daily Prophet had by far the largest circulation. The front page headline of the Daily Prophet and accompanying article would send shockwaves throughout the entire country.
DUMBLEDORE DROPS DUNGBOMB!
BOY-WHO-LIVED DEAD!
In a shocking turn of the cards, the Ministry for Magic and Wizengamot called a joint press conference last evening to reveal the worst news since the Dark Day's when You-Know-Who and his terrorists were at the height of their powers and predations. Albus Dumbledore, long term Headmaster of the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot announced that sometime in the early morning of Wednesday last, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, who had saved us from ruin and darkness, died in a house fire in Surrey.
Potter, has largely only existed as a name and myth. Born to James and Lily Potter on July 31st, 1980, he has never been seen in public. There have never been any photographs of him in any paper or magazine. He was born in hiding, sought after as a target by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. For the rest of us, theses past six and a half years, he has existed only as a name - the name of the baby who defeated the most evil wizard of the last four centuries. Few knew of his whereabouts during his first fifteen months of life. Fewer still have known since that horrible night that cost him his parents. While we celebrate October 31st, 1981 as the date when the baby saved us all from terror, for him it was the date he lost his family.
Dumbledore explained that for the last six an a half years, the most famous person in our world has been living with his only surviving relatives - Muggles! He had grown up ignorant of our world and ways and ignorant of his importance in our hearts.
Dumbledore explained that the gas lines in his muggle home ruptured that dreadful night. According to Muggle authorities, all in the house were overcome by the gas, which soon ignited burning the house to the ground. There were no survivors. Ironic, that the lad many believed was to become a most powerful wizard should be laid low by non-magical fire, an event almost unheard of in our world. But we were reminded, there were no wizards to protect him.
Dumbledore took full responsibility for the loss. He explained that despite the fact that his relations were Muggles, the house where he lived was protected by the most powerful wards known. The wards were somehow tied to him and his remaining family and were in place because Dumbledore believed that there may still be unrepentant Death Eaters or their fellow travelers among us who would seek to harm the boy. His sojourn in the Muggle wilderness was supposed to last only until the day he entered Hogwarts, a date still more than three years away.
Dumbledore admitted that following the death of Harry's parents and the subsequent arrest of his appointed guardian Sirius Black for mass murder, Dumbledore has assumed the role as Harry's magical guardian pursuant to the Law on Orphans as Head of the Wizengamot. Consequently, no responsibility can be laid at the door of the Minstry for Magic or our now long tenured Minster For Magic, The Honorable Millicent Bagnold.
"It was my fervent hope," Dumbledore explained, "that by placing Harry with relations in the Muggle world, he would have as normal a childhood as possible and be spared the adulation, trappings and temptations of his celebrity for as long as possible. We must never forget, he was a baby on that terrible day when he lost his parents. He surely has no memory of that event and could not tell you what happened. No one alive really knows. There are only four people in our world who have ever seen him in life. One sits in a cell in Azkaban prison for the most heinous of crimes, not in the least of which being betraying that boy and his family to [You-Know-Who]. To lose such promising young boy in such an ordinary and mundane way is a tragedy."
Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was on the scene not long after the Muggle Fire Brigade. "It was an accident caused by a contaminated gas supply," he said reading from the local Fire Inspector report. "For years, contaminants have been corroding the copper supply pipes throughout that area. Initial reports indicate that most every home or business in the area could have gone up the same way at any time."
However, we all know that gas explosions and fires have been a convenient excuse used by the Ministry for years to cover-up magical attacks on Muggles. One is forced to wonder whether the loss of this innocent icon of hope, courage and resistance was not indeed done in by his former enemies.
Now he lives only in our memories, in the cold pages of our histories, in the scores of comics and childrens books written about him, and, of course, in the dashed hopes of - at last count - 345 families that have offered him open ended contracts to marry their daughters. (A record that may stand for centuries).
And of course none of these events or facts helps answer the other unanswered question from that night so many years ago: did Harry Potter have a younger sister? Rumors have circulated that Lily Potter gave birth to a daughter Clarice only weeks, if not days before that tragic night. Of course, no infant body was ever found at the Potter's hide-a-way and, as the building was left in ruins, there was no evidence of one, but the rumors persist to this day.
Given the clear cover-up regarding the location of the Boy-Who-Lived, one must assume that where there is smoke, surely there is a fire!
All of this surely brings into question whether Dumbledore has passed his prime. He was born in 1864 and, while 126 is hardly ancient, he is not as young as he once was. Perhaps the weight of his many responsibilities is finally taking its toll on the man who was been of such importance to Britain for over fifty years. Perhaps age and wisdom failed him in the placement of our now lost National Treasure.
We can say so little really. Harry? We knew of you, but we never knew you.
A memorial service for Harry Potter will be held at St. Simon's chapel in Godric's Hollow at 10:00 A.M., Saturday, June 4th, where his remains shall be interred beside his parents. Due to the extensive burns, there will be no viewing. Dumbledore has requested that those intending to send memorial gifts should instead send donations to St. Mungo's Hospital or the Wizengamot Orphans' Fund in Harry's name.
Somewhere in Devon, outside a village named Ottery St. Catchpole, a middle aged man with red hair put down the paper. He had gone pale at the news. His plump, red-haired wife could not fail to notice. He was always quite jovial and she had not seen that expression on his face since the war. She was still occupied with serving breakfast to her four youngest children, a pair of red haired twin boys, a younger red haired boy, and the youngest, a red haired girl who was six years old.
"Arthur?" she asked. "What's the matter? I haven't seen you like this since…"
"Terrible, just terrible, Molly," Arthur said. He then rose from his chair, ignoring his breakfast and walked out the kitchen door into the garden beyond. His wife Molly had not seen him like this in years - but knew what must have caused it. Someone had been murdered! Someone they knew or knew of had been killed by - but he can't be back!
She looked at the paper and began to read. Within seconds she was crying. "No!"
"Mum?" one of the twins asked with concern. They were too young to remember the war and therefore had never seen their Mum cry before. To them, she had only two emotions really, happy, or screaming her head off at them. Molly put the paper down and placed her head in her hands sobbing silently. The younger boy picked up the paper looking for a picture, but there wasn't one.
"What do you think you're doing, Ickle Ronnykins?" one of the twins said.
"Trying to read what this is," the seven year old boy named Ron said.
"Waste of time mate," the other twin replied. "We all know that despite Mum's efforts, you still can't read."
"If it weren't for your occasional magic, you'd be worse than a Squib," the other twin replied.
"Well, I ain't no Harry Potter," the younger boy replied.
"That's for sure," his younger sister agreed. "Harry's smart and brave and cute and not a prat and…"
"Oi!" Ron shot back, "no one's ever seen him! For all you know the bloody garden gnomes are better looking! He might be a troll!"
"Anyone that famous must be good looking," the girl said in defiance.
"Just 'cause you think he's your boyfriend…"
"He will be! You'll see!"
"Shut it, you two!" one of the twins. "Hand me that paper, midget!" The twin practically tore the paper from Ron, "Seeing as you can't read…oh, bugger."
"What? Is it about Harry Potter," the girl asked, "is it Fred?" She was beginning to sound excited.
"Yeah Ginny," Fred said in a flat voice. "It's about your dream boy." He handed the paper to his twin.
"What's it say, George? What's it say?" Ginny begged practically hopping up and down in her chair.
It took George a while before he said anything for he read more thoroughly than did his twin brother Fred. "Harry Potter died in a house fire early Wednesday morning."
Ginny gasped and went pale.
"Brilliant," Ron said.
"What?" Ginny squeaked.
"Mum's always on me about how I am not Harry Potter and such. Well, so what? At least I'm alive!"
Ginny began to wail just before she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
"Ronald!" Molly growled. "Go to your room! NOW!"
"What?" Ronald asked. "What I do?"
"You upset your sister! GO!"
"But I haven't even started breakfast!"
Molly raised her wand and Ron's food disappeared. "ROOM NOW! IF YOU'RE LUCKY, MAYBE YOU'LL HAVE LUNCH!"
Ron stomped off muttering to himself.
_____________________________________________________________
About three miles away, another family had sat down for breakfast. The father was short in stature and a little plump and balding with light brown hair, but always seemed to be in a good mood. He was reading the morning mail as his wife, a slightly taller blonde haired woman who was not hard on the eyes at all was finishing the meal at the stove. The father looked up just as their only child, a six-year old girl with long, blonde hair and eyes that always expressed wonder walked into the room. Her father thought she seemed to float and had told her that she was blessed by the Nitzie Fares, the beneficent fairies of legend.
"Morning Daddy," the little girl said happily.
"Morning, Luna Love," the father replied.
"Good mail?"
"Three sightings! Three!" the father replied.
"Why can't we ever see them, Daddy? I'd love to see a Crumple Horned Snorkack."
"I'm sure we could have Love. My guess is the Nargles that seem to find us enjoyable cloud our minds at the most inopportune times."
"I suppose," the girl pouted ever so briefly. "Mummy?"
"Be with you two in a moment," the woman laughed quietly. "Just finishing the bacon."
"Why can't we have pudding?"
"Luna," the mother sighed, "a growing girl like you needs more than just pudding."
"I suppose," Luna frowned. "But I do like pudding."
"Indeed you do, My Angel," the mother replied as she brought their breakfasts to the table. "Now tuck in!"
"Looks wonderful, Dear," the man said.
"You always say that, Xeno," she replied.
"I always mean it, Marla. Spell crafting today?'
"No Love. The garden needs tending and I know you need to complete this week's issue. So you really have three sightings?"
"Indeed. One's even been seen in the Orkney's, although that was months ago according to the letters. Must have been a juvenile. Male most like, as they are known to wander a bit until they find a harem to tie them down."
"Harems tend to do that," she replied as she picked up the paper.
"Must you read that pack of lies?" he asked.
Marla looked at her husband. "It's always wise to keep an eye on the competition, don't you think?"
"Which is one of a million reasons why I married you," Xeno said. "With all the stories I can follow…"
"I understand. Still…"
"I know you think much of what I print is not worth the ink, Love, but…"
"It makes you happy. People buy it and we do okay. Just 'cause I don't follow you to find Snorkacks and such…"
"And what about the Clarice Potter situation?"
"No proof she's in the Department of Mysteries as an ongoing experiment."
"Nor would there be, would there! Everyone believes her brother exists, yet no one has ever seen him. If he truly exists, so does Clarice! I mean, we are talking about a department that everyone knows about but no one knows who's in it and what they truly do. Then there's this Harry Potter nonsense! They write me off, but has anyone ever actually seen this Boy-Who-Lived?"
"Not that I am aware…"
"Yet the masses believe in him! Surely he must be real!"
"And Clarice?"
"You know as well as I do, Love. There's just as much proof about Harry Potter as there is about his rumored sister. One might argue there's more proof about the elusive Snorkack as there have been unconfirmed sightings."
"I think Harry Potter is real," Luna said.
"And why's that, Love?" Marla asked.
"Everyone says he is," Luna said. "He may not truly exist, but he is still real in a sense because people believe in him."
"And Clarice?"
"Donno."
Marla sat down and began to read the paper. "Oh my!" she said in surprise.
"What is it?" her husband replied, "did they catch good ol' Millicent with her fingers in the till?" Xeno did not think to highly of the government in general or the current Minister for Magic in particular - or any other politician for that matter.
"No. According to this, Harry Potter died a few days ago!"
"Really? How?"
"He was living with Muggle relatives and their house burned down."
"What on earth was he doing with Muggles?"
"Dumbledore left him with them."
"Crazy old coot!"
"That poor boy," Luna added.
"Does that paper say anything about Clarice Potter?" Xeno asked.
"Only more of the same. She's a rumor."
"Well, if that poor boy is really gone, maybe she won't be for long. I'll talk to my contacts at the bank and see if the Potter Vault has been re-designated."
"I'm surprised you ever get any information from them," Marla smiled. Xeno was considered a fringe reporter but he was the only one who had any actually information regarding the inner workings of Gringotts, the main bank for all of Wizarding Britain.
"That's because they know I never print any of the information. Just use it to confirm my hunches."
Marla smiled at her somewhat batty husband as she began on her breakfast.
_____________________________________________________________
The normally boisterous breakfast for students and staff at Hogwarts quickly became subdued as the papers circulated around the Great Hall. It was true that no one present had actually seen Harry Potter, but he was a legend. Now, it seemed, the legend was gone. There were children present whose families had been torn apart by the War that had claimed Potter's family and many saw Potter as a beacon for a hopeful future. A dark cloud seemed to pass overhead as that beacon was now gone.
Albus Dumbledore noticed the somber mood as he entered to take his meal at the head of the Staff Table. Having given the interview, he knew the cause of the odd behavior of his nearly four hundred charges. Many eyes followed him, some in disbelief and others in clear disappointment. He had, after all, publicly accepted responsibility for the circumstances leading to the legend's death. He sighed quietly as he took his seat.
"Is this true, Headmaster?" a tall man dressed in black with equally black hair and a face that looked like it never knew humor asked.
"I am afraid so, Severus."
"So it was all for nothing, then?"
"Not entirely. We have been rid of Voldemort for over six years and his followers have either been rounded up or gone to ground, present company excepted."
The man nodded. "Is Minerva here? I was hoping to have a word with her about one of her charges."
"She has taken a couple days off for personal business, Severus. I expect her back tomorrow evening."
"Personal business? What sort?"
"She did not tell me and I felt it would be prying to ask."
The man grunted. "The article mentions the girl again," he added in a whisper.
"It does, does it?"
Severus nodded. "In passing. But it suggests - strongly - that it may be more than a rumor, Headmaster. Is it?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "Either it is or it is not. Regardless, it is best left alone."
"But if she is…"
"Severus," Dumbledore said more strongly, "our world has suffered a tragedy. It should not be compounded with rumor, speculation and innuendo. If the girl exists, she is beyond our sight and perhaps it would be for the best under such circumstances to leave it that way."
"Yes, Headmaster."
"While your interest in that unfortunate family has intrigued me, Severus, I am forced to wonder if there is not some small part of you that had hoped to - er - torment that Potter lad."
"Sir?"
"I am not unaware of your disdain for his father - or his for you."
"I…"
"Although the point is now moot, you should not blame the boy for the sins of his father."
"Yes Headmaster."
_____________________________________________________________
Lucius Malfoy took most of his meals alone in his suite in the huge manor house. He had a wife and son, neither of whom he could stand. He had married to fulfill the need to sire an heir to his family name. It was an arranged marriage and, while his wife was attractive, she was weak in his mind. The boy was little better. He graced them with his presence only at dinner and then only as often as he could stomach them. He knew his son idolized him, but at age seven, the boy was useless.
Someday maybe, he thought, but he doubted the boy would ever amount to much - not that there was anything to amount to anymore. An heir, sure. The boy earned that at birth. But as one of Voldemort's most faithful and cunning followers? No. Lucius saw none of that in the boy. Not that if mattered. Voldemort was gone as was most hope for a world where he could lord over his lesser man without resorting to gold changing hands.
A servant brought him the morning paper and the headline stunned him for a moment. He carefully read the article and could see the Ministry's hands in the inevitable cover up. A gas fire, how original, he thought. Harry Potter was dead. In the end, that was all that mattered to Lucius. As a mere baby, this freak of a child had destroyed the greatest wizard of all time, Lucius' Master known as Lord Voldemort.
Before that fateful night, Lucius stood at the cusp of his life long ambition. The Death Eaters were on the verge of winning the war and deposing the weak willed and corrupted magical government. A new age would dawn and Purebloods like Lucius would lord over lesser mortals. The Dark Lord, of course, would rule over all, but he would not be the face of the New Order. The public face would be the new Minister for Magic, one Lucius Malfoy. The lesser mortals would have to bow before him and pay their tributes to him and his Master.
That Half Breed filth, too low to be worthy of breathing the same air as Lucius, that foul baby of corrupt blood had almost ruined the Malfoy family. No one knew or understood how, but that impure, pathetic waste of magic had destroyed Voldemort completely. It had cost Lucius two-thirds of his vast fortune in bribes and payoffs since then to avoid the fate of many of his Death Eater associates. Lucius had avoided life without parole in Azkaban Prison. But even now he admitted to himself, he was still not the man he had once been. Too many favors called. To many debts incurred. He had been the head of one of the most powerful Wizarding families in Britain. That was all lost.
Not that he was destitute. Far from it. But the honor and prestige that had been his as a child as the heir apparent was gone. Draco was not destined to inherit a powerful house as he had been. He wondered if deep down Draco knew that, which would explain why he seemed so useless.
His family's fall from prominence and respect to the social margins of aristocratic, pureblood society rested squarely on the head of that little filthy creature: Harry Potter. The boy had disappeared the very night be became the darling of the unwashed masses. No one knew where he was or even what he looked like. But Lucius was nothing if not patient. Sooner or later, the boy had to resurface, if only to go to school. When that happened, Lucius would be waiting. The boy would die for killing the Master and ruining the Malfoy patrimony!
Lucius had mixed feelings about the news that the antagonist was dead. On the one hand, he was elated. The boy had it coming and the Dark Lord had been avenged. On another, he was furious he had not had the honor of making the most glorious of kills. Finally, he seethed with jealousy at whichever of his former colleagues had taken that creature out once and for all!
He did not dwell on the news for long. He had plenty of other plots to attend to.
_____________________________________________________________
Gail Nelson was a little surprised to find herself back at the hospital. The Potter Case was closed once it was confirmed that the boy's abusive family had all died in a fire. She had been pleased to learn he had already been placed with a family and had spoken with Amanda Riggs, the Social Worker who recommended the placement. The Grangers sounded like a wonderful family. As she entered Amanda's office, she could not help but feel concerned that something had gone terribly wrong for that poor boy.
"Detective Sergeant Nelson," Amanda said. "So good of you to come."
"Gail, if you please. You say Detective Sergeant and I get this uncontrollable urge to salute or something."
Amanda chuckled. "Gail then. I'm Amanda. Have a seat."
Gail sat. "Is something wrong with the boy? His placement?"
"Oh no! Far from it. The family are the Grangers. The parents have a Dental practice not far from here although they live in Loughton, Essex. They have a daughter who is about Harry's age. She goes to St. Michaels, which is about two blocks from here. She's been with Harry everyday since he arrived. They seem to be kindred spirits."
"Bit young, don't you think?"
"You know what I mean. They've become best friends. And her parents seem to have taken a shine to him too. He seems happy."
"That's wonderful! So why am I here?"
Amanda slid a file across her desk to Gail. Gail picked it up instinctively and began reading through it. She stopped several times and her jaw dropped each time, but she kept reading trying to avoid jumping to any conclusions. Finally, she put the file down in disbelief. "You must be joking!"
"I'm with the government," Amanda said. "You know we may be incompetent, but we certainly have no sense of humor."
"Are you certain?"
"About as certain as you can get these days."
"How?"
"We're the government. Our first rule is if it can be messed up, we'll mess it up. Our second rule is if it cannot be messed up, read our first rule."
"What's her story?"
"She's adopted - or was. Lives here in London, or did. Her adoptive father passed away a little over a year ago from cancer. About a week ago, her adoptive mother was driving her to school when they were broadsided by a Lorry. It struck the driver's side killing the poor woman. She survived."
"No other family?"
"No. Although I think we both know what should be done in her case."
Gail nodded. "What?" she asked in feigned shock. "Are you suggesting we government types should do the right thing?"
"There's a first time for everything," Amanda laughed. "Every once in a while, I do like my job."
"I'm a sucker for happy endings as well."
_____________________________________________________________
The Grangers had left Hermione and Harry to go to lunch at a nearby restaurant. They really did not enjoy the hospital food. Neither did Harry or Hermione, but Harry could not leave and Hermione was willing to eat the stuff so long as it meant more time with Harry. Besides, both children agreed that a lunch without grownups was fun as they could talk about what they wanted to. They had just finished eating when there was a nock at the door.
Two women entered the room. Harry immediately recognized on as Nurse Gail. Nurse Gail was pushing a wheelchair in which sat a little girl with long black hair. She seemed very sad and afraid and did not seem to want to look at Harry or Hermione.
"Nurse Gail," Harry said brightly. "Hermione? This is Nurse Gail. You remember me telling you about her?"
"Yes," Hermione replied. "Pleasure to meet you. I am Hermione Granger. I'm Harry's friend and he's going to live with me and my parents."
"It's nice to meet you, Hermione," Gail said. "How are you doing, Harry?"
"Brilliant!"
"That's good to hear. I was worried about you, you know."
Harry blushed for a moment. "Erm - why aren't you in your Nurse togs?"
"Oh! Silly me. Must have forgot," Gail laughed. "While I am a Nurse, Harry, truth is I am also a Detective Sergeant in the Metro Police. I deal with cases like yours."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"You must be really smart to be both," Hermione commented.
"Or just hard working."
"So," Harry said, "is she…" he nodded towards the girl in the wheelchair?
"No Harry. She has a sad story too, but not like yours."
"He has a sad story?" the girl sniffed without looking.
"I do," Harry said. "My parents were killed by a bad guy when I was a baby. I was sent to live with my Mum's sister and her husband and their son. None of them liked me one bit. My Uncle hated me and hurt me all the time. A few weeks ago, he hurt me real bad. Hermione here and her parents found me and I woke up here. Nurse Gail here told me I would never have to live with my Aunt and Uncle again and Hermione told me I could live with her and her family and that's what's going to happen. I was miserable until I woke up here and found out that for the first time in my life I have a friend and there are people who like me."
"I don't have any friends," the girl said glumly. "Only Mummy and Daddy liked me. Th-they loved me! And they weren't even my real Mummy and Daddy. My real ones died when I was a baby. I was adopted. Daddy got really sick and went to a hospital and never woke up again. That was a year ago. On Tuesday, Mummy was driving me to school and there was a terrible crash and I woke up here. Mummy went to be with Daddy and she won't be back either! I have no family!" The poor girl was weeping silently.
"We'll see about that," Hermione said firmly. "I sure my Mum and Dad will let you come and live with us."
"How can you say that?"
"I'd listen to her," Harry said. "For one, people like the three of us should be together and for another, Hermione here is very persuasive."
"Why would you want me? I have no friends!"
"Before Harry," Hermione said, "neither did I. Like you, I am adopted and my Mummy and Daddy do love me too. But no friends. Harry had neither a Mum and Dad who loved him or friends. But Harry and I are friends, and we want you to be our friend and - I guess - sister."
"Yeah," Harry said.
For the first time, the girl looked up and Harry and Hermione could see her face. Both of them could not help but notice that she had brilliant green eyes, just like Harry. Through her tears, the girl forced a smile to appear.
"I am Clarice Jameson," she said.
"Harry Potter."
"Hermione Granger."
"We'll leave the three of you to get to know one another," the other woman said as the two women left.