Chapter Three
Happy Birthday Harry
Admittedly, Remus Lupin thought as he lay half conscious on the pavement of the service tunnel, this whole night had been a bad idea. He wasn't an Auror, he was just a teacher, albeit a rather frivolous one. So why had he allowed his two best friends to drag him out on a mission? Simply put, he had an issue with saying no to them. It was a disorder that had not been treated since Hogwarts and had been allowed to grow and manifest itself. This disorder had caused him to get landed in more detentions than should be legal, get stuck in a girl's lavatory for three hours, have a suit of armour fall on top of him, possibly placed himself and his best friends in danger countless times and all in all, made it the best time of his life. He made a mental note to add this little mishap to the amount of payback he owed Padfoot and Prongs. Although the hard ground was decidedly not the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever experienced, it was still rather bothersome. Unfortunately, his senses were still out of whack both from his sudden trip to the ground and from the recent full moon that had already left him feeling tired and worn out. He remembered vividly his two best friends dragging him on this errand and wondered again how they had managed to convince him.
"Aw, come on Mooney," Padfoot had laughed, "For old times sake, you're the Defence whiz after all, 'bout time you got some hands on experience."
"Its just a routine run anyway," said Prongs, messing up his already mussed up hair, "My last bit of grunt work before the promotion."
"I don't know," Remus had begun, weighing the options, "Its Auror work-"
"And we all know there's only one reason you're not one," snorted Padfoot, glaring at the Ministry building, he sighed, "Come on Moon, one last rumble before school?"
Remus was still sceptical.
"I'll buy this months supply of chocolate for you," added Padfoot.
Remus still hesitated, a little.
"From Honey Dukes."
Ah, he thought as he lay there, that had been it. Cursed chocolate addiction.
Tonight had been interesting though, all Padfoot and Prongs had been told of the situation was there was a suspect amount of magical activity in the area and considering there were no magic folk on Little Whinging Surrey, the occurrence was worth the look. What had really surprised Remus was the suspected magical creature appearance in the small village. He'd expected something like an escaped magical creature from London had made its way there. It was entirely possible of course. He had not, of course, been expecting Dementors.
So as Remus John Lupin lay half conscious on the ground watching the silvery mass that took the form of a great stag disappear and the boy who had cast it collapse. As he himself drifted into unconsciousness, a long while it seemed before someone started shaking him awake, his last coherent thought was;
Stupid chocolate.
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Harry opened his eyes to darkness, the sun had set and there was very little light in the train tunnel. He sat up slowly, the stick was still clasped in his hand, his glasses a little skew. Adjusting them he stood up, a little shakily at first, when he had steadied himself he looked around and saw the man still slumped against the wall. He rushed over and knelt beside the man, shaking him roughly.
"Sir!" he called, "Sir! Are you alright? You need to wake up! Sir!"
The man groaned and opened his eyes slowly.
"James?" he murmured, looking at Harry, "When'd you take a youth potion?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, the statement throwing him off a little. This man had just said youth potion, hadn't he?
Oh great, thought Harry, he's delirious.
"No sir," he sighed, "I'm not James, here, let's get you up."
He gripped the man under his arm and lifted him up, he was a little heavier than Harry thought and it took all his balance to keep them from toppling over.
"Easy there," he said softly, letting the man stand on his own two feet. Harry reached up to adjust his cap and realised it was missing, he scanned the ground for it, panicked and hoping to see it in the darkness. He did, luckily it had fallen within a lighter area. Scooping it up, he quickly checked his photo was still there, his hand running over the familiar rim of it was all the conformation he needed before slamming back on his head again. The man seemed to gain some of his wits and was rubbing the back of his head, then he was scanning the floor in a panic.
"Uh sir?" said Harry, the man turned to him in surprise, Harry handed him the stick, "You dropped this when that thing hit you."
"Oh, yes of course!" said the man, "You used it to drive them away?"
"Uh, I guess so," said Harry, a little unsure, "Sorry."
"No, no, young man," he exclaimed, "I'm sorry, I thought you were a muggle."
"What's a muggle?" asked Harry. The man's eyes widened. He gaped at Harry.
"You mean you don't know you're a-"
"Remus!"
They both turned, two men seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and were running towards them. Harry took a step backwards in caution. The man, Remus, smiled at him.
"It's okay," he said gently, "They're friends."
Harry shook his head.
"It's not that," he said, "I really shouldn't be here."
"Your parents must be worried," Remus said kindly.
Harry shrugged.
"They're not really an issue," he said a little sadly.
Remus seemed to want to ask why, but was cut off when his two friends nearly knocked him down in a hug.
"Watch it!" he scolded them, "My head hurts!"
"Damn it Mooney!" yelled the slightly taller of the two men, his thick dark hair giving him a shaggy like appearance, almost like a dog, "Do that again and I'll kill you myself!"
"What Padfoot means is," said the other man, Harry could see an outline of messy hair and the glint of glasses in the dim light, "That we were worried when you just disappeared. What happened?"
"Dementors," said Remus, "At least eight, I think. I drove three away, got hit and this boy here performed one of the most brilliant Patronus charms I've ever seen!"
"I thought you were knocked out?" blurted out Harry, a little suspiciously. The other two men turned at his voice and stared at him scrutinizing. Remus laughed.
"Well," he said, "It took a moment for me to pass out, I still saw a large creature burst out when you yelled the spell, a stag I think."
"Stag?" 'Padfoot' laughed too and poked the other man in the ribs, "Hear that Jamie? Looks like another Prongs fanatic!"
"Prongs," repeated Remus, "Yes, I knew it!"
"Knew what?" asked 'Jamie.'
"It looked just like Prongs!" he exclaimed, "James, the boy's Patronus was Prongs!"
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"That's silly, Mooney," James said, shaking his head, "Not to mention impossible!"
"I tell you what I saw James," Remus argued, "And it was Prongs!"
"Mooney-" James started, looking at his friend and then to the boy. The child couldn't have been more than a teenager, maybe fourteen or fifteen. He wore baggy clothing, which struck James as odd, who would dress their son in such dishevelled clothes like that. On his head he wore a bright red cap which shielded most of his face from view, but oddly enough, James felt no compulsion to see what was under the cap. Sirius was looking quizzically at the boy too, before he suddenly beamed excitedly.
"I know!" he said, "Why not just ask him to do it again, that way no argument."
"We don't have time," James put in, "We came to check out a magical disturbance in the area and we found it, an under aged wizard and Dementors. I don't know about you, but the fact that there were Dementors in this area doesn't bode well with me. My darling sister in law lives close by."
The last statement dripped with obvious sarcasm and dislike, Sirius snickered a little, shaking his own shaggy head.
"So what do you suggest we do?" Remus asked.
"Take him to Madame Bones, before he ends up in big trouble along with us."
"But he did it to save me!" Remus protested, "If the boy wasn't here I'd have had my soul sucked up by now. He shouldn't be punished for that!"
"You know the laws," James sighed, "This kind of magic and in a muggle area, it usually earns at least an expulsion."
"At worse some time in Azkaban," Sirius said with a shudder, "Depending on the spell of course."
"It's a stupid law," Remus scoffed, "Fudge has it bad in the head. He's a child!"
"Couldn't agree with you more mate," said Sirius, lifting his hands in surrender, "But that's the law, maybe James can change it when he gets his new promotion."
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Harry was looking from one man to the other in confusion as an argument started between them. James seemed to think it was ridiculous and Remus must have hit his head harder than he thought. Remus was adamant that the stag was in fact this Prongs, Padfoot looked between the two and calmly suggested they allow the boy to perform another spell so as to settle the argument. James said they shouldn't waste time and take him to the Ministry as he had obviously been performing underage magic and would be in deeper trouble if they didn't get to Madam Bones as quickly as possible. Remus protested strongly at first, the boy had saved his life after all, but agreed that it was better than allowing him to get thrown into Azkaban for a year because he used powerful magic in a muggle area. The entire time this conversation was going on, Harry's head was reeling. Magic? Ministry? Azkaban? Were these men stark raving mad?
"Thanks again," he said, they turned to their attention to him, "But I've really got to go."
He ran.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry didn't get very far before he felt something hit him and suddenly he couldn't move a muscle. His entire body seemed to clamp up immediately and he unceremoniously fell to the ground. The only thing he could remember thinking was thank goodness his glasses and cap hadn't fallen off. He felt strong hands grip him and the next thing he knew there was a loud cracking sound and Harry felt like he was being pulled through a vacuum crossed with a roller coaster. A second later he could moved his limbs again and had been shoved into a chair. The men had gone and Harry sat facing a tall, blonde woman with a stern, yet friendly face.
"Good evening," she boomed pleasantly in a great, big friendly voice, "I am Madam Bones."
So continued one of the strangest nights in all of Harry's almost sixteen years.
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"You think he'll be alright?" Remus asked his friend nervously. Sirius and James both sighed.
"For the thousandth time Remus," said Sirius, "He'll probably get off with a warning and a fine. Bones isn't that harsh and we explained the circumstances to her."
"But I told you," said Remus worriedly, "I don't think the boy knows he's a wizard, or else he's been put under a memory charm of some kind. I mean, I thought he was a muggle, but muggles can't see dementors! I can't believe I forgot that and I'm going back to Hogwarts this year!"
"Calm down Mooney, the boy will be fine," shrugged Sirius, "You'll do fine teaching this year. The boy's parents will get him though, he is obviously a wizard."
Remus opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, there was no point. Something the boy had said struck him though.
They're not really an issue.
Troubles at home perhaps? Whatever the reason, could the boy depend on his parents? Remus shook his head, it wasn't his business, he only hoped Madam Bones would be lenient on the poor boy. After all, he had saved Remus' life.
"So how's Lily and Ally doing?" he asked instead. James suddenly looked sad, he glanced at his watch.
"Two and a half more hours," he said, "And it'll be Harry's birthday. He'll be turning sixteen, somewhere out there. Lily wants-this Halloween-she wants to declare-declare Harry legally dead."
Remus nearly slapped himself, of course, it was Harry's birthday tomorrow. He hadn't been thinking. Dark day in the Potter house, for everyone. James and Lily declaring Harry dead though, that was a bit of an extreme, they hadn't had confirmation that he was in fact deceased yet.
"But he's alive!" Sirius exclaimed, "The Hogwarts Registry is proof enough of that, we just can't find him, that's all! I thought you guys said you'd wait till after his seventeenth, and even then, only think about it!"
"Lily can't take it anymore Sirius," said James, his voice a little strained, "She keeps hoping, but I think now she realises that if she ever got him back now, it wouldn't be a little boy, it wouldn't be the child we wanted to raise. He'll be a man soon, maybe living out in the muggle world this whole time, maybe he has friends, parents. Someone close to him. Will he want to leave that life for us? A family he doesn't even remember?"
"You don't know that!" protested Sirius, "He may need you James."
"Sirius is right," said Mooney, "You shouldn't give up on him."
"I'm not!" cried James, "But I have a daughter too who can't understand why we buy an extra present every year at Christmas, but never open it. Or why we're so damn protective over her, I know I'm an overprotective bastard, Mooney, but I cant help it, I can't let what happened to Harry happen to her. She's starting Hogwarts in a month. A month! And her whole childhood has had the shadow of her long lost brother looming over her!"
James Potter shook his head, defeated.
"I love my son," he said finally, "I always will, but it's time to let him go. It's time to move on. As of the thirty-first of October nineteen ninety-six, Harry James Potter will be declared legally dead for the whole wizarding world."
With that, he apparated into the night, leaving his two shocked friends behind him.
"Mr. Mooney," said Sirius.
"Yes, Mr. Padfoot?" breathed Remus.
"We don't have much time left, do we?"
"No, Mr. Padfoot, I believe we are all but out of time," Remus said sadly, turning to walk away. Sirius sighed and followed his friend, they disapparated into the night to the bar of the Three Broom Sticks in Hogsmeade, an old hang out. After several fire whiskeys, when midnight finally rolled by hours later they were both chanting with unshed tear in their eyes, "Happy Birthday Harry!"
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Harry blinked. He was in an office of some kind, there were photos all over the walls of men and woman. The strange thing was, every single one of them was moving, like his photo. He resisted the urge to look at it again, make sure it was still there. He knew it was, he could feel the hat on his head, but still-
Unfortunately that would mean taking off the cap in front of a stranger and the last thing Harry needed was someone recognising him and asking him awkward questions about his parents and home. Neither of which he had. He couldn't risk her seeing his face, he could only hope she wasn't one of those people who demanded hats off inside.
Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't notice me.
It was the same chant he used in school, over and over again and it worked, Harry didn't know if he was sending out vibes into the universe or something, but he was usually glad when it did work. Bullies ignored him for the most part and teachers didn't bother to check he's done his work or was even in class at all. But here in this small room, with only two people in it, he knew there was no chance this woman wasn't going to notice a strange kid sitting right in front of her.
"Where am I?" he asked, "How did I get here?"
Madam Bones smiled kindly. She had the kind of face that was friendly and big, but strict and harsh too, Harry realised from a few glances that she was not a woman to cross.
"Would you like to tell me your name?"
No, thought Harry, swallowing hard, he really didn't want to, but he knew he had to tell her something.
"It's Harry," he said.
"Last name?" a quill to her right was furiously writing furious as she spoke. Harry stared at it.
"W-what's that?" he asked.
"Just a Quick-Quill," she said.
"A what?"
Madam Bones frowned.
"Your last name," she said again.
"Uh," Harry thought, he used a variety of different last names, it was a habit he picked up after leaving the orphanage. Harry was a common enough name, but he could have any last name he wanted.
"Jameson," said Harry, the third man that night, his name had been James, Harry sort of like the sound of it on his tongue, "Harry Jameson."
"Mr. Jameson," she continued, "I understand you performed a Patronus charm in a muggle area, this is a high level magic and you are underage. How old are you dear?"
"Nearly sixteen," stammered Harry, completely bewildered. Did she just say magic?
"How soon will you be sixteen?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," said Harry, "July thirty-first."
Madam Bones nodded, the Quick-Quill rapidly writing down each fact as it was said.
"Can you describe to me what happened at precisely nine twenty-six this evening when the Dementors attacked?"
"Dementors?" Harry repeated.
"The creatures that attacked you dear," she said, "What did they look like?"
"Um," Harry shook his head, "Big cloaked figures, they kind of glided towards me and I felt-"
"Yes?" urged Madam Bones, leaning forward in her seat, "How did they make you feel?"
"Like," Harry shuddered at the memory, "Like I'd never feel happy again, it was cold and my ears started ringing, I heard screaming and remembered a lot of green light and voices-"
"Dementors sometimes bring up the worst memories," Madam Bones sympathised.
"Then this man shouted something," Harry carried on, "Expecto Patronum, I remember, this big, silver mass of light leapt out and drove those things off."
"Professor Remus Lupin," she said, "He's the one who saved you."
"Yeah," said Harry, thinking of the worn looking man, he wondered what kind of life he'd had to become like that, "Then he gave me some chocolate, and more of those things came! He sent another light out, but got knocked out and I picked up his stick thing, I thought it would shoot another one of those things out at them. Nothing happened, so I-I thought if I shouted the same thing, it might work. I tried, but it was getting darker and colder, so I tried to hold on to something I cared about-"
"A happy memory?" Madam Bones suggested, smiling.
"Yeah!" said Harry, "Something like that and then I shouted those words and silver came out and I swear I saw hooves, but then I passed out."
"Interesting," said Madam Bones, "A corporal patronus, and so young!"
"Huh?"
Madam Bones just smiled.
"What school do you attend?" she asked, "Hogwarts?"
"No," said Harry, "Kendal High."
"Excuse me?" she said abruptly, looking at Harry strangely, "I've never heard of that school, are you foreign?
"No," said Harry quickly, last thing he needed was to be deported, "It's in Surrey."
Madam Bones blinked, staring at him for several long moments. She was clearly surprised, but Harry couldn't for the life of him wonder why. He fidgeted a little in his seat, hoping he would get out of here as soon as possible.
"I see," she looked at Harry seriously, "Mr. Jameson, do you know what magic is?"
"Magic?" Harry repeated, of all the things she could have asked him, "You mean like making people disappear and pulling rabbits out of hats. Tricks, right?"
Madam Bones smiled a little, her eyes taking on a kind light as she leaned forward towards Harry, a gentle look coming over her features.
"Mr. Jameson," she said, her eyes filled with amusement, "You and I live in two completely different worlds; in yours, normality rules and technology governs everything. In mine, people exist with a spark for something much more, unique. A world of magic and mastery. Sometimes, however, and more often than not, a child in your world is born to be part of mine, with a spark all their own. I believe, Mr. Jameson, that you are merely a late bloomer, as the muggles would say."
Harry frowned in confusion, trying to process what was being said. Magic? Mastery? Spark?
"Meaning?"
"You," she said happily, "Mr. Harry Jameson, are a wizard."
"A what?"
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Albus Dumbledore was pacing his office yet again, his phoenix watched his every movement, head moving in motion to his step. Dumbledore was worried and for good reason, Death Eaters were moving again, and there were rumours that they were trying to find a way to allow for Voldemort's resurrection. It was only a matter of time before they found someway of doing it, five years ago he had tried to take the Philosopher's Stone from Hogwarts, luckily the Mirror of Erised had prevented him in his weakened state. Professor Quirrel had been found as no more than a pile of ashes after Voldemort had left the man's body. Dumbledore doubted it would have done so if he had understood the underlining methods to it's existence. Four years ago, Ginny Weasley had been possessed by Voldemort, but by some strange circumstance had been saved. No one knew exactly what happened, Ginny herself could only remember bits and pieces of the night when everyone thought she had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets forever. She remained convinced that a boy had rescued her, had slain the basilisk and destroyed Tom Riddle's diary. She said the Sorting Hat and Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, had been in the Chamber and had helped the boy.
Dumbledore frowned, visiting the memory in his Pensieve for perhaps the hundredth time since the event.
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Ginny Weasley was in the hospital wing, pale and shocked. The eleven year old child's red hair was a mess, her usually warm brown eyes red from crying and lack of sleep.
"You have to believe me Professor!" she cried urgently, "A boy, he had black hair and green eyes and a scar on his forehead! He saved me!"
"Lay down Ginny," her mother, Mrs. Molly Weasley scolded, "You need to stay calm."
"Miss Weasley," said the other Dumbledore, "I believe you, but can you tell me exactly what happened?"
"Tom was draining away my life," she said bluntly, "Everything was washing away. I was praying for a miracle, hoping for someone. Then I felt someone take my hand and I opened my eyes, there was a boy leaning over me, he was worried and scared and he kept asking if I was alright, but I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything! He looked so frightened and then angry. I heard Tom and the boy arguing, Tom asked who he was, the boy didn't answer, he just said; Let her go!"
Ginny paused for a moment and took a drink of water from a goblet before continuing her tale.
"Tom said it was too late and called his-his pet to attack the boy," Ginny shuddered, "Then I heard it, the phoenix! I heard it drop something and then metal clangs and laughing. Tom said something about a sword and a hat, and told him to run and watch where his eyes wondered. Then I passed out completely, I don't remember much, but then I heard Tom screaming and I could move again. I sat up, the boy was holding a tooth and there were holes in the diary, but his arm was bleeding. It didn't look so bad, but-I guess it was, he looked like-like he was going to pass out. Then the phoenix started crying and he was healed, he looked at his arm and blinked. Then he looked at me. He smiled and said, 'Some dream,' then he just, disappeared."
Ginny stopped and started crying into her mother's shoulder and the memory ended.
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Dumbledore was not a man baffled easily, but that one event certainly did, a boy defeating a basilisk. It was unheard of, and to just disappear afterwards, well, it was beyond ludicrous. Then again…
Stranger things had happened, why not this?
"Albus?"
Dumbledore turned to his Deputy Head Mistress, Minerva McGonagall who was standing in the door way, she held a piece of parchment in her left hand. She was a stern, thin lipped woman, her eyes were as piercing as a cat's and the way she held herself befitted every ounce the Gryffindor she was.
"Yes, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore kindly.
"I've just received a letter from Amelia Bones," she said.
"Ah yes!" said Dumbledore smiling, "Amelia! Such a bright girl."
"Yes, well," said McGonagall, she seemed a little perplexed, "It seems the strangest of things has occurred."
"What is it?"
"A sixteen year old muggle boy," said McGonagall, "Has performed a Patronus charm, it appears he is and I quote Amelia, 'a late bloomer.' She requests he be enrolled in Hogwarts immediately, apparently Remus is the one who found him and he can vouch that the boy performed a full blown corporal patronus!"
Dumbledore was genuinely surprised, shocked even, it was rare that the Registry missed a muggle-born child, it was even rarer that one, untrained and new to magic, could perform a spell of that skill on his first try. Impossible, some would say.
"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Dumbledore, "I'll leave for the Ministry immediately. His parents? Have they been informed?"
McGonagall shook her head.
"Amelia says that he refuses to answer any personal questions," she informed the Headmaster, "Not where he lives, not his parents, all he's given is his age, name and current school. He's having some problems believing her."
Dumbledore nodded, understandable it would be like that. Some could comprehend the concept easily, others couldn't.
"His name?" he asked.
"Harry," said Minerva McGonagall, "Harry Jameson."
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James Potter entered his home in Godric's Hallow expecting the worst, a crying Lily, a tearful Ally, shouting and fighting. The normal for the day before Harry's birthday. To say Lily Evans Potter had taken the news of her son's disappearance well, was an understatement. For the first five years or so she had been only hopeful and determined, then Ally was born and she became cautious, afraid someone might try to harm her daughter. James was glad for Ally's birth though, he knew full well the rocky stance their marriage was taking at that time. He knew, without a doubt, that one of them would have suggested a divorce eventually. Ally had reminded them both how much they loved each other, how much they wanted children and how much they wanted a family. Their little family wasn't as whole as he would have liked, but it was still his family. Despite this, he knew it was hardest on Lily, not knowing about Harry and he had vowed to himself that whether Harry was alive or, Merlin forbid, dead, he would find out what happened to their small son that fateful Halloween. The past two years had been the worst, as though the knowledge that Harry would reach manhood without ever knowing his mother irked her. James knew that this next year would probably be the worst for them. Lily would still be hoping, she always would and so would he, but it would be even harder to find the adult Harry than the child they still craved. James remembered with great sadness all the false leads they'd had over the years, wizards and witches coming up to him, claiming to have seen Harry. More than one false boy had been found, but none of them baring any semblance to James or Lily. None of them bore the one feature James knew would never change in his son, his mother's green eyes.
As James started towards the kitchen, he heard the most peculiar thing. Lily singing. Not a sad lullaby either, but a full blown jig that made him want to smile. He entered cautiously and saw Lily sitting at the table smiling and staring down at a piece of paper.
"Lily?" James asked, walking to her. She looked up and smiled, tears in her eyes, she got up and kissed him on the cheek, she started laughing.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I think I saw him," she said, "I think I saw Harry."
James froze.
"What?" he exclaimed, "Where?"
Lily smiled and held up the piece of paper, it was a cutting from an old newspaper article, a muggle newspaper.
"Look," she said, "Petunia had this, it's from a year ago."
"'Local Boy puts Self through School,'" James read, "'Harry Green, an intelligent and polite young boy of fifteen has been working odd jobs on and off for the past three years in the hopes of eventually being able to attend College and later University after his schooling is complete. Though it is still unclear what his home life is like, or why he requires these jobs at all, the locals of Surrey have found the boy's plight to be of noble cause and offer help where ever possible. As one resident of Little Whinging said;
'Harry is always polite and always gets the job done, he never complains and always does it with a smile.'
Another, Mr. Johnson reported that despite earning minimal wage, he refused charity and always thanked his employers for his day's pay. Harry himself was unavailable for comment, but his school, Kendal High, has disclosed that Mr. Green is in the top Sets for all his subjects which include; Math, Chemistry, Biology, English, French, History and Geography.
Harry Green is a true inspiration that with a little hard work, anything is possible. We wish him luck.'"
James looked at the small photo which had obviously been taken without the boy's permission. He was leaning against a tree with a bottle of water in his hand, there was a lawn mower beside him too. His face looked a little surprised at who ever had taken the photo, but he had a small, sheepish smile on his face. Black, messy hair and what James thought looked like a small lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. James nearly gaped, the photo was in black and white, but he could almost imagine Lily's green eyes looking up at him from the boy's face. His face. Harry was all James, except his nose was slightly smaller and his mouth more like Lily's, but everything else was Potter, pure Potter.
"Just like his dad," Lily whispered, hugging closer to James.
"All this time," breathed James, "He was living right near your sister!"
"Which is why he was kept safe," said Lily, "No dark magic could get to him as long as he visited Petunia's house for at least once a year, for as long as he was tied to her, which he has been for the last four years. He was working in her garden!"
"She knows where he is?"
"No," admitted Lily, "He comes door to door once a year to arrange work times for the summer, this isn't his only job though. Petunia said he also works for a pub in winter, a zoo not far from them and from time to time at a local stables."
"You said you thought you saw him?" asked James.
"He was talking to Ally, in the garden," Lily was smiling, "When Petunia told me he was right there we rushed out and-well-"
"Well what?"
"He knocked Dudley out."
James stopped and howled with laughter, there were tears in his eyes.
"Why-" he gasped through laughs, "Why'd he do that?"
"He called Ally a freak," said Lily solemnly.
James stopped laughing immediately.
"When I get my hands on that little-"
"James!" said Lily warningly, "He is my nephew."
"Too much like his father for his own good," said James through gritted teeth.
Lily smirked.
"So apparently," she said, "Is Harry."
James stopped and chuckled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.
"Does sound like something I would do," he admitted.
"I looked it up," said Lily, "This Kendal High opens in a little over a month and it'll be Harry's last year there of muggle high school, then he'll be applying for a college to get his A-Levels."
"A-Levels?"
"Like our N.E.W.T.S," explained Lily, "But James, we could have him back, soon. We could find him, at this school. He could come home!"
They both knew convincing Harry they were his parents would be difficult, especially if he couldn't remember them or had a loving family of his own. But Lily and James didn't care, Harry didn't have to accept them as his parents, they just wanted to meet him, to know he was alright.
James laughed again, tomorrow would not be a day of mourning or of remembrance, it would be a celebration that perhaps, in a years time from now, they would have someone to send a birthday present to. They would have Harry.
"You know," said James, "It's a little sad, but somehow I don't think Harry will be a Gryffindor."
"Why do you say that?" asked Lily, puzzled.
"Hard working like Hufflepuff," said James smiling, "Ambitious like Slytherin and smart like a Ravenclaw, not much bravery in this article."
"Well," said Lily, "We don't really know, he did defend his sister."
"Yeah," teased James, "But that could just be the hot tempered Lilly genes kicking in."
He laughed as Lily mock chased him around the kitchen, when she caught him they hugged and laughed and cried well into the night. When midnight struck hours later, they both rose their glasses and cried in happiness.
"Happy Birthday Harry!"
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Harry was staring quite determinately into the front of his cap which he had pulled further over his face, Madam Bones had given up interrogating him at present and was sipping a cup of tea whilst Harry ignored his. Dumbledore should be there soon and she was anxious to get the boy off her hands, it was late after all. There was a knock on the door and an old man in blue and purple robes entered the room, his long silver beard ran down beyond his waste and his periwinkle blue eyes were twinkling. Harry looked up, lifting his cap only enough to see the man, but not enough to show his face. Since that stupid article last year, Harry was not going to let anyone catch him without his cap again.
Please don't notice me. Please don't notice me. Please don't notice me.
"Amelia," he greeted Madam Bones before turning to Harry, "Mr. Jameson?"
"I'll leave you two to it then," said Madam Bones, getting up and exiting the office, she smiled at Harry as she left.
Dumbledore took a seat in front of Harry, the boys face was half hidden by a large red cap and he was looking up at him through shadowed eyes. Dumbledore swallowed a little, the name Harry reminded him so much of the Potter's little boy and he momentarily found his mind wondering to the great question the entire wizarding world was asking; Where is Harry Potter? The boy's birthday was soon, wasn't it? "Happy Birthday Harry," he thought sadly, "Where ever you are." He cleared his throat and shook his head a little, pushing away the thoughts and focusing on the boy in front of him.
"Hello Harry," said Dumbledore, "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I would like to offer you a place at our school."
"I don't have enough money," said the boy suddenly, looking away, "I'm still saving."
Dumbledore was a little confused.
"We have a special fund for children like you," said Dumbledore, "It will provide for your supplies and school fees."
Harry remained silent.
"W-what kind of jobs can you get as a wizard?" he asked.
"Many," said Dumbledore a little surprised at this line of questioning, most muggle children only asked what they could do with their magic, make people disappear, making fire. etc. "There's teachers, healers, Ministry workers, bankers, merchants, aurors-"
"What's that?" asked Harry suddenly, "What's an Auror?"
Dumbledore smiled softly, he seemed to have grabbed the boy's attention.
"They are a little like a police force," explained Dumbledore, "They protect us from dark wizards or creatures that mean us harm."
Harry bit his lip.
"What subjects do you take to be an Auror?" he asked.
"Defence-Against-the-Dark-Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms and Herbology," said Dumbledore, "I also find it prudent to take Care of Magical Creatures or Ancient Runes, they too help."
Harry nodded.
"This school," he said slowly, "Is it like a boarding school, or something?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore, "There are four houses in which you are divided up into and each house has a dormitory and a common room. Whilst you are attending Hogwarts your house is like your family, you can earn points and at the end of each year the house with the most points wins the House Cup."
"Sounds cool," said Harry weakly, "And I learn magic there?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore, a little worried about the boy.
"I-I don't know," Harry said slowly, "How can I be a wizard? I mean, I'm Harry, just Harry."
"Well just Harry," the headmaster smiled, "Has anything, apart from tonight of course, ever happened to you that was strange or out of the ordinary. Perhaps you made something happen when you were upset or angry that you couldn't explain, couldn't even tell was real or not?"
This seemed to stump him, Harry couldn't speak, strange things had happened to him before, unexplained things. He'd always wanted to know, always wondered why. His mind drifted momentarily to his dreams, to the all the other strange events that made him the way he was.
"Okay," he said, "I'll do it, make me a wizard."
Dumbledore smiled at the boy and gave a soft chuckle.
"That's up to you Harry," he said, "A wizard we can teach you to be, the power inside is up to you."
Harry nodded. That made sense in a weird kind of way. He had no parents though, never had, that was going to be a problem. The Headmaster of a school would surely want to know about parents. Those were always an issue. He could lie at the non-magic school he attended, but he had a feeling Hogwarts was the kind of school that required parental permission.
"Um, Mr. Dumbledore-?"
"Professor," the headmaster corrected him with a smile.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry acknowledged, "About my parents, they-they passed away a few years ago, I don't really have a home
Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. That certainly explained a lot.
"You may consider Hogwarts as your home," he said, "During this summer, I'm sure we can organise for you to stay with someone, perhaps a friend you'll make, but we will sort something out."
Harry nodded, this was certainly going to be an interesting year.
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Ally Potter sighed, slipping out of bed, it was nearly midnight, nearly his birthday. She had never met her older brother, but there wasn't a year when this time rolled by that she wished she did. She wondered what he would look like, would he be a nice brother to her. Most of all though, she wondered what had happened to him and if he was still alive, still out there somewhere. She remembered the gardener at the Dursley's, his name had been Harry and he had had her mom's green eyes. Then mom had started crying about that piece of paper she'd gotten from Aunt Petunia and asking her questions about Harry. Ally was a curious child by nature, but even she was confused. Why would her mother want to know about he Dursley's gardener? She wondered down stairs and saw the light was still on, the next thing she heard was laughter and crying. She opened the door slowly to find her parents hugging one another and smiling.
"He's alive," Mum was saying, crying, she'd been like this since after Aunt Petunia's house.
"Ally will get to meet her brother for real," said Dad softly, looking happier than he had in a long time.
Ally's eyes widened in surprise, she didn't really understand how they had found him yet, but somehow it didn't matter. Quietly, she slipped out of the kitchen and made her way back upstairs. She heard the clock chime twelve as she walked past a cabinet filled with photos. She turned to the baby picture of a one year old Harry Potter on his first birthday and smiled.
"Happy Birthday Harry," she whispered and went back to bed.
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He scurried through the streets of London, in his rat form it was easy, no one took notice of him, no one knew his mission. A little turn here, dodge a cat there and he was at his destination. He wondered, not for the first time, why his master wanted him to do this instead of carrying on with the ceremony first. He thought his master would want to be resurrected as soon as possible, but he didn't question the word of the Dark Lord, no one did and lived to tell the tale. He wondered as well, for the first time in fifteen years, if this was a good idea, if serving someone so dark and cruel was really worth it. Without hesitation he had returned to his master, helped with the plans for his coming again. The Dark Lord was his master, he was loyal only to him.
A pang ran through him as he remembered the smiling faces of his long ago friends. Sirius and James, Padfoot and Prongs, the dog and stag, the dynamic and ever popular duo. He was never as popular or as loved as them, just the tag along. Remus, the smartest boy in Gryffindor Tower, the brains behind most of their pranks, the glue that kept Sirius and James from causing too much trouble. He could never be as smart as Remus or as brilliant as James or as fun loving as Sirius.
He could never be like any of them.
In that last year of school, he could feel the distance growing, James and Sirius with their grand ideas for the future and Remus with his own hopes and dreams. The three of them had gotten closer that last year, much closer. Pushing Peter out, leaving him out. What purpose did a rat have amongst such great creatures like them? He wanted power, he wanted strength, he wanted to show them that he was worthy, that he had a purpose. Fifteen years ago, he was going to be the hero, their hero. Save them from themselves, save them from the Dark Lord, only he had the power to protect them. It was his time to shine, his alone. They would have thanked him, offered him equal footing alongside them, he would be the greatest of the Marauders.
But Harry didn't die that night.
Instead the Dark Lord had lost his powers and Peter had been reduced to living like a rat. If only Harry had died that night, everything would have been alright, everything would have worked out and his betrayal would have been seen as a great sacrifice. The world would be better if Harry had just died that night. He had spent the past fifteen years making himself hate Harry Potter, loathe the very air he breathed, the ground he walked on. He'd even stayed in that enormous wizarding family trying to catch glimmers of news that Harry might have been found. Silently celebrating each year that the young Potter hadn't been located. He had quite comfortably hated the boy. But then-
He looks just like James.
There it was again, the stab in his heart, the painful memory. He pushed it down just as quickly as it came, swiftly transforming into himself as he entered Knock Turn Alley. Looking up Diagon Alley once, he noted a light in the window of the Leaky Cauldron going off and momentarily wondered what wizard was up so late. Shaking his head a little he pushed away all thoughts of James and Harry and the Marauders and turned back to the dark wizards alley. He pulled his hood over his head and kept to the shadows. The vial of Harry's blood was still in his pocket.
He got to the shop without much trouble, a cloaked wizard wondering through the shadows of Knock Turn Alley was certainly not the oddest thing to be seen, compared to others. He knocked on the door of Borgins and Burkes, waiting patiently for an answer.
"Who comes?" a gruff voice said from behind the door.
"One w-who devours death," Peter said, showing his bare arm to the peep hole. The door slid open immediately and the large figure of MacNair stood there, his eyes wide.
"Pettigrew?" he hissed, "But you're supposed to be-"
"Dead?" Peter said, trying to smile, "Not quite. I bring news, a-are others a-assembled?"
MacNair nodded, his eyes still wide and opened the way for Peter who entered quickly. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a clock chiming midnight, he counted the strokes as he followed Macnair inside. One the twelfth he stopped for a split second, a single and involuntary thought running through his head. Even though he knew he had ended the event by leading the Dementors to the boy, the thought was still there.
"Happy Birthday Harry."
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A red haired girl woke up with a start, panting and gasping as she did, her dream had consisted of that strange boy again. The one who had saved her life. She pondered, not for the first time, who he was and how she would find him. There were so many questions wringing in her mind. She shook out her great red mane and lay down, closing her eyes and trying to drift back to sleep. For a good five minutes she lay there, contemplating that advantages of sleeping or staying awake and preventing all possible dreams. She could hear her brother's snoring through the walls in the distance and sighed, turning to her other side. Downstairs she could hear the chimes of the family clock and glanced at her own clock at the side of her bed.
Midnight.
She sighed, it was tomorrow already? What was the date again? July thirty-first.
Her eyes widened and she sat up, a sudden thought coming to her. She hadn't thought about him since her first year at Hogwarts. The Boy-Who-Lived, the one who had stopped You-Know-Who. Her childhood hero. Oh, how she remembered idolising that boy she had never met. She remembered making her father tell her that story over and over again.
Her favourite fairytale.
The last four years had been consumed with trying to figure out the boy who had saved her life, she hadn't even thought of her first childhood crush since that whole ordeal. She smiled, a little of the familiar flutter starting in her heart as she thought of him again. She wondered momentarily about that boy, she wondered if he was okay. She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer that he would be reunited with his family someday. She would really have liked to meet him.
"Happy Birthday Harry," she whispered, laying back down again and closing her eyes.
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Harry was settled into a bed in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Dumbledore said they would organise a few teachers to get him up to scratch with the other sixth years over the next month or so. Hopefully, Dumbledore had said, they would be able to get him writing his OWLS by Christmas if he did well enough. Harry was still reeling though, magic, it was a difficult thing to grasp. Harry had never really believed in magic, in the strange and unbelievable. He had, however, always known he was strange. He remembered the time when he was twelve when one of his customers had refused to pay him for his work, the next day the man's lawn was overgrown. Or how in the orphanage he'd been chased by a bunch of kids and had somehow ended up on the roof. Or his hair growing back to it's original state after he'd been administered with a bowl shaped hair cut. Or how he'd managed to blow up- he quickly pushed that memory away.
And the dreams…
They still haunted Harry to this day, had he been there? It had felt so real. His hand went to the scar of his forearm from the giant snake's tooth, to the bandage he had managed to wrap around his bleeding arm when Madam Bones was writing her letter. He'd cleaned it out in the sink and taken out the first aid kit he always carried with him, silently grateful he had skipped lunch for a week to buy it. He had wrapped it up tightly with a bandage and put plenty of antiseptic on it. He couldn't seem to remember how he cut it though, all he could remember were the Dementors or whatever those things were, the cut seemed a blur. Harry sighed and glanced at his watch, the glow in the dark hands ticking to five past midnight.
"Happy Birthday to me," he sighed, knowing no one else would be saying it anytime soon, turning over and closing his eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep.
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Not too much done to this, I did add a whole lot about Wormtail, at the moment, I'm unsure whether to redeem him in the end or not. Peter has always been a confusing character for me and I see a lot of fan fiction writers either completely condemn him for his deeds, or show a side to him that holds redeeming qualities in the end. As much as I'd love for him to have them, in the books he always had me wondering. If he really had any sense of loyalty to the Marauders or conscience, why the hell did he run off and help Voldemort resurrect himself? Some may argue it was probably out of fear, he wanted to hide behind a "bigger fish," but a lot of the worst things are done out of fear. Then again, he lived as a rat for two years, sleeping in Harry's dorm room, I know JKR explains it in the third book, but I'd like to believe that some semblance of a heart kept him from killing the boy in his sleep. He made a lot of bad choices that hurt a lot of people, but he still made them and he made them to help himself. We don't really know what was running through his mind when he betrayed his friends, but we know that he did, regardless of the consequences. What I'm trying to do is more or less show his own justifications to himself if he had even a slight conscience. Whether he will change in the end or not is still being decided at the moment I'm more interested in giving him a inner confliction, things might have turned out differently if he'd had one in the first place. I mean, its got to take a heck of a lot of convincing yourself to betray your friends. Right?
-Southern Hearts-