Title: The Boys Who Lived
Author: Shara Lunison
Beta: Batsutousai
Rating for this Chapter: K+
Pairings: Harry/Henry (OMC)
Warnings: SLASH, Eventual twincest!
Summary: The Potter twins are attacked by Voldemort and somehow defeat him. Now the Dark Lord has returned and they have to choose between light and dark. SLASH, Twincest, rated M for later chapters.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: I hope everyone likes the little twists to the plot I'm making. Hopefully I'll be able to keep it up for the rest of the story. Onward!
Chapter Three: Mrs. Figg
It was only a few moments before they heard the sound of footsteps coming from inside. The old-fashioned wooden door cracked open and a rheumy blue eye peeked out at them, before the crack suddenly widened and Arabella Figg looked down at them in confusion.
"Henry? Harry? Boys, what are you doing here? Did the Dursleys decide to leave you with me again?" She peered out at the street as though she might see Vernon's shiny blue company car speeding away from the curb.
"Mrs. Figg," Henry blurted, "Are you a witch?"
"What are you doing!?" Harry hissed at him in alarm.
"Relax, if she is, then we'll have help, and if not, she'll write it off as us just being kids." Henry whispered softly in his ear.
Meanwhile, Arabella had drawn in her breath at the shock of these boys asking her such a question. "Don't be silly, boys," she laughed fakely, "come in, come in!"
Resigned to their fate, since it seemed she wasn't a witch as they hoped, the twins followed her inside. But as soon as Mrs. Figg had closed the door behind them, she bent down and asked in a harsh whisper, "Did you get your letter, then?"
Hope rekindled in their eyes. Henry asked, "It's real, then? Magic, and Hogwarts, and we… we can do magic?"
Smiling warmly, Mrs. Figg motioned them to sit on her old overstuffed paisley couch and busied herself with getting two more cups for the tea she already had waiting on the table across from them as she explained, "Real, yes! Though I've never been to Hogwarts myself, since I'm a squib. My whole family before me went there."
"What's a squib?" Harry asked.
Arabella turned with their favorite cups in her hands—white with blue Chinese dragons painted across them—and sat in her chair by the table as she poured the tea. "Well, there are three types of people in the world. There are muggles, like your relatives, non-magic folk. There are wizards and witches, like you. And then there are people who ought to be magical, like me. My whole family is magic, you see, but when I was about your age and I didn't show any signs and didn't receive my Hogwarts letter, I was labeled a squib. We aren't very well liked by the wizarding world. Some people consider the purity of a wizards blood to be the most important thing about them."
The twins listened with rapt attention, a million questions buzzing at the tips of their tongues. But Mrs. Figg went on:
"If you've gotten your letter, then you'll need to go to Diagon Alley in London to get your supplies. I think we all know that the Dursleys won't take you to London without a good excuse, and with the way they feel about magic…" she mumbled disgruntedly to herself for a moment as she handed the boys their tea, "Well, you'll have to tell them before you leave, of course. You dears sit tight for a moment while I floo Albus to see if we can't get a guide to show you the way and to explain things to your family."
She set down her own cup and moved into the adjacent room where they saw her reach into a pot on the mantel and throw a handful of something into the fire. A second later the flames had turned into a cheerful crackle of emerald green and Mrs. Figg called out, "Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Quietly, Harry and Henry crept into the room to watch this first example of magic. Just as they had taken position peering around Mrs. Figg, a man with a long white beard appeared in the fireplace. At least, his head appeared. He seemed to be having some trouble with his beard getting caught up in the swirling flames and wrapping about his head. When he had gotten himself sorted out, they saw an elderly man with twinkling eyes and a pair of half moon glasses perched precariously on his rather crooked nose.
"Oh, Albus! For Merlin's sake!" Arabella laughed. "I have some news about the Potters."
"The boys?" Albus asked, suddenly all business. His eyes searched the bits of the room he could see from the grate and spied two pairs of knobbly knees trying to hide behind Arabella's skirts. Looking up, he couldn't help the extra bright twinkle that crept into his eyes as he saw the Potter twins again for the first time since he had left them on Privet Drive. "My boys!" he cried, "How have you been the past ten years? Are Vernon and Petunia treating you well?"
"Er…" Harry exchanged a glance with his brother. "Sorry sir, but… uh… no."
"No?" Dumbledore frowned, craning his neck to look up at Mrs. Figg. "Stand back, Arabella, I'm coming through!"
She hastily backed away from the grate, ushering the twins with her. A moment later, the emerald green flames gushed upwards and Dumbledore appeared, all of him this time, brushing soot from canary yellow robes decorated with absurd little pictures of multi-colored rubber ducks. "Now then," he said, "what's this about the Dursleys?"
Harry nibbled his lower lip and took a step behind his brother. Henry was much better at dealing with things like this.
Determined that someone, at last, would see the situation and correct it, Henry laid out all the facts for this man who, according to their letter, was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Well, sir. Until the first letter arrived, we shared the cupboard under the stairs as our bedroom. Whenever we so much as mentioned magic or anything unnatural, we were locked in there without food until Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia decided they needed us for some chore. We were forced to cook, clean, mend, garden, and anything else they could think up while Dudley never lifted a finger except to punch us or chase us with his little gang of friends. We couldn't turn in our best work at school without being smarter than him, which he would whinge about until we were punished for cheating (again without food) and every other time we've tried to tell an adult this, absolutely nothing has been done to change it." Henry took a deep breath, hoping that the stricken look on the Headmaster's face meant that he was doing well. "So, sir, no, we have not been all that well since we started living on Privet Drive. Nothing's gone well since our parents died in the car accident and we lived on without them."
Harry's arms snaked around his middle, holding him tight. Despite his bravado, it was terribly hard for Henry to admit that all of these things had been done to them when their past attempts to confess had always failed. But magic had given them hope. Perhaps this Dumbledore would be different.
"Car accident?" Dumbledore whispered. "Oh, boys, it appears that things have not gone as I had hoped at all. Not at all." Sighing, he motioned everyone back into the living room and the cooling tea and took the remaining chair opposite Arabella. "Your parents did not die in a car accident. They were killed by the most powerful dark wizard our world has ever known. His name was Lord Voldemort. On the night of your parent's deaths, Voldemort gained the information he needed to find them. And he came, and he killed them. But when he tried to kill you, the curse rebounded, leaving behind only those marks on your cheeks."
The twins touched the identical lightning marks on their faces. "They told us these were just birthmarks." Harry whispered.
Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain. "I thought it was best to leave you with the Dursleys, my boys. It was your mother's wish, should your other guardians be unable to take you, that you go to her sister. But I can see now that I should have looked elsewhere. Can you ever forgive me?"
Henry shrugged and Harry just looked at him with wide, sad eyes.
Sighing, the Headmaster attempted to shake off the melancholy that had settled on the room. "I will have to see what can be done about it. But for now, will you be all right spending the rest of the summer living with the Dursleys? Only until you leave for Hogwarts on the first of September."
They nodded, reminded once more of the magical school that they would be going to in a little over a month.
"Which is what I was flooing you about in the first place, Albus." Mrs. Figg handed him a cup of tea and settled once more in her chair. "Vernon and Petunia are much too much against anything magical to take the boys to Diagon. I was hoping to enlist your help in finding a guide to take them and to help explain things to the Dursleys."
Dumbledore nodded. "I'll explain things to them myself," he said dangerously, the twinkle in his eyes changed to a hard glint. "And I'll ask the professors if anyone is willing to escort the twins to do their shopping." He smiled over his spectacles at the boys, who gave weak grins in return.
"Sir," Henry asked, "Does this mean we won't have to come back here again, once you find us a new guardian?"
"Yes, my boy. I promise."
"And we won't be separated?" Harry asked softly, tightening the hold he had on his brother's hand.
"No, of course not!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed. "Separate the Potters! The mere thought…"
"There is much that you do not yet know." Dumbledore told them softly. "In our world, you are famous for more than just surviving the Dark Lord Voldemort. You see, the curse he used on you is one for which we have no counter. Yet it did not affect either of you. In the wizarding world, you are known as the boys who lived."
"But what happened to Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"Good question, my boy!" Dumbledore crowed. "Many people believe that he died that night. But I think that he is out there somewhere, waiting to make his move so that he can return and finish where he left off. You would do well to be cautious when things seem to be strange to you."
Harry nodded seriously, while Henry frowned. "But sir, surely if he were still out there someone would have seen or heard from him after all this time?"
"Ah, but if he lives, what sort of man do you think he might be to have survived the Killing Curse? He disappeared the night you survived, it is true, but what sort of vapor or mist could be left? What piece? I believe that Voldemort used very dark magic to ensure his survival. Very dark magic indeed. But, I believe I have given you too much to think about as it is. I'm just going to pop over to the Dursleys for a bit and give them a good talking to. I'll see that someone is along to collect you both in a few days to get your school things. And I'll also make sure that your Uncle will take you to the station on the first to catch the train. Toodleoo!" And with that, the Headmaster swept outside, his canary yellow robes even brighter in the sunlight outside.
"That was… abrupt," Henry muttered.
But the Headmaster's departure meant that they were now at the mercy of Mrs. Figg, who proceeded to parade her albums of cat pictures past them. It was dark by the time they made their escape, though at least the squib had fed them something resembling a dinner, which was more than the Dursleys were likely to give them upon arriving home.
"Do you think Dumbledore really talked to them?" Harry asked.
"I hope so. And I hope he did something to them, to make them nicer to us while we're still here," Henry replied bitterly.
They hesitantly came through the familiar door of number four. Vernon and Dudley were, as usual, sitting in front of the telly. Petunia was nowhere to be seen. Deciding to test their luck, they went into the kitchen and pulled two glasses out of the cupboards to get some water from the tap.
"Harry, Henry!" Petunia was now standing in the kitchen doorway. "I didn't hear you come in. Just water? Would you like some juice?" She bustled over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, then took their glasses and dumped out the water and filled them to the brim with the juice.
Henry looked at the glass in his hand suspiciously. Neither boy had ever been allowed to have juice in the Dursley house. It was something special that, if they were lucky, they sometimes got at school on activity days. Something strange was clearly going on here.
"Are you hungry? We've already eaten dinner, but I put some plates for you in the fridge, so if your little tummies get rumbly, don't be afraid to pop down and have a snack." Harry spotted the promised plates in the fridge as she put the juice away, and gasped. They were piled high with chicken, rice, and vegetables. Portions that were usually reserved for Dudley and Vernon.
He and Henry looked at one another in wonder. What had Dumbledore done to their relatives?
"When you finish watching the telly, try to get to bed early. I want to leave bright and early tomorrow to get you both some proper clothes!" With that, Petunia flounced into the living room and joined her husband and son on the long couch, which the twins had never been allowed to sit on. She turned to look at them and patted the empty corner beside her in invitation.
"What do you reckon?" Henry asked softly.
"I reckon he's brill, Hen. It may be too good to be true, but why not take advantage while we still can?"
Nodding, they joined the rest of the family on the couch, sipping their juice and viewing some of Dudley's favorite programs. Their Uncle tried to ask what they would like to watch, but having never seen anything before, they just let their cousin pick. Dudley, for his part, seemed more than happy to educate his cousins on the finer points of television.
When Petunia ushered them upstairs to bed, they went without any argument, happy for the first time in a long time.
Dumbledore seemed to be as good as his word. For the past week, Harry and Henry had been treated to real, properly fitted clothes, foods and meal portions they had only dreamed about before, and the surprisingly good company of their cousin, now that he wasn't trying to beat them up. July the thirty-first arrived and with it came several surprises.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" greeted them as they entered the kitchen that morning. A mound of presents was covering the table, breakfast was already cooked, but waiting on the stove for them to open the presents and then eat. Petunia was beaming at them, Vernon had his arms crossed over his chest proudly, and Dudley was holding out an oddly shaped package to both of them, clearly wanting them to open that one first.
Grinning, they ripped into the paper, finding a brand new Playstation 2, which they had learned about from Dudley earlier in the week. Excited now, they opened the rest of the parcels on the table and received a TV, three controllers for the game system so they could play with Dudley if they wanted, an assortment of ten new games, some books that Henry had shown interest in, and for Harry a brand-new football which he gushed over after having seeing his first football game on the telly the day before.
"There's one more present!" Petunia announced when they were finished. She looked over their shoulders towards the door and turning, they saw Uncle Vernon holding a large box as big as he was that depicted a pair of bunk beds.
"Wicked!" the twins exclaimed.
Their Uncle hefted the box up the stairs and they impatiently gobbled down their breakfast as they listened to the sounds of clanking metal, hammering, and Vernon's curses from upstairs.
Just as they finished and were about to run back to their room to see the construction efforts, the doorbell rang.
"Oh, boys, could you get that?" Petunia called from the kitchen, busy with the dishes.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia!" Harry and Henry answered reluctantly. They raced to the door and opened it to see who was on the other side. But in the place of the expected mail or milkman was a sneering gentleman with lank black hair, wearing a long-sleeved dark collared shirt with far too many buttons and skinny black trousers that buttoned from knee to ankle over his heeled boots.
"I am here to escort Mr. Henry and Harry Potter to Diagon Alley to retrieve their school supplies," the man announced sharply, glaring down his large hooked nose at them.
Henry smirked, thrusting his hand forward for the man to shake. "I'm Henry. This is my little brother, Harry."
"Hey! I'm only younger by… well, not that long. We're twins, silly!" Harry stuttered a bit, as he wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed between Henry's birth and his own.
The man grimaced at the offered hand, but shook it anyway. "And I am Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts. You will address me as Professor, or sir."
Harry shook his hand as well and they offered to let the Professor come inside. "Sorry, sir, Professor Dumbledore only told us he would send someone in a few days, not when exactly. We weren't expecting you."
"Indeed," Snape sneered.
They led the dour man into the living room and bade him to sit while they went to fetch their Aunt. "It's our birthday, you see," Harry explained, "and we're not sure if she'll mind us leaving or not."
But when they asked Petunia, up to her elbows in soapy water in the sink, she told them that today was when Dumbledore had scheduled for them to visit Diagon, and hadn't they mentioned it?
Returning to the living room, they found Snape staring at the ceiling in consternation as the hammering and cursing continued from upstairs.
"What is that racket?" he asked.
"Oh, Uncle Vernon got us bunk beds for our birthday!" Henry said, smiling happily. "We've been sharing the single bed up there till now, so I guess they realized we've gotten too big for that."
Snape frowned at them momentarily, but was prevented from speaking when Harry said, "And Aunt Petunia says that Professor Dumbledore wanted you to come today, so we can go now if you like." They were quite excited about seeing the wizarding world at last.
"Very well. If you would lead me to Mrs. Figg's house. We'll be taking the Floo Network to Diagon Alley." Snape stood fluidly and stalked quickly to the front door, the twins scuttling along behind him.
They chattered back and forth across all three yards and on the front stoop of number ten, where Arabella lived. The squib answered the door and greeted the Potions Master, "Severus! How good to see you!"
He grunted in response and turned down all offers to visit for tea, saying that he had business for the Headmaster to see to. "Just came to borrow your Floo, Mrs. Figg," he said at least twice.
"Now then. I know you haven't experienced any magical forms of travel before, so listen carefully. Take a handful of Floo powder, throw it in the flames, step in and announce your destination as clearly as possible. Watch for the right grating and step out when you've got the right one. I'll take you both one at a time since this is your first time. Come along, Mr. Potter."
Both boys stepped forward at the same time, and Snape gripped the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Three sets of twins this year," he muttered under his breath. "Henry, you come first." The named boy came forward and followed Snape's instructions and the pair stepped together into the fireplace, with the Professor's hands gripping his arms tightly. "Keep your elbows in, now."
They disappeared in a whoosh of green and Harry watched in fascination as Snape reappeared a few minutes later. "You now, Harry. Come along. Thank you, Mrs. Figg."
Harry joined him in the fireplace and winced slightly as Snape's long and bony fingers dug into his arms. "Diagon Alley!" he cried as clearly as he could. The grate whooshed away and dozens of others followed it.
"The one we want is the Leaky Cauldron. A pub of sorts, but rather old-fashioned looking," Snape murmured in his ear.
Harry thought all of the places flashing by looked old-fashioned, but then one zoomed up that held his own image smiling back at him and he rushed forward, landing on the floor with a 'thump' at Henry's feet and choking on ash. Snape calmly stepped out after him, sneering down at him on the floor and waving his wand over them both while saying, "Scourgify." He found himself suddenly cleaned of fireplace debris.
"Welcome," Snape sneered sarcastically, "to the Leaky Cauldron."