Note: It's actually getting kind of irritating to have to say this. The first comment was funny. But if you don't want to read a Harry Potter story where Harry is gay, THAT'S FINE; no one is putting a gun to your head and telling you to do this. No one is forcing you. Be my guest and leave off reading.

And also: In the first chapter, if it wasn't obvious, Harry was taken advantage of by Uncle Vernon. It was non-consensual and horrible, and rape. No matter what kind of reaction Harry got from it, it wasn't something he wanted.

Not to mention, if someone does something like that to you, that doesn't make you "gay" it makes you unfortunate and a victim.

Though yes, once Harry is older, he will have relationships that are with other boys. So if you don't want to read that, STOP READING.

Interlude:
Albus Dumbledore

In the quiet solitude of his office, the revered Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was busy sending out acceptance letters to prospective students.

The letters were always created by magic, based on what Hogwarts herself wanted, and thus, it was his job only to send them out, not choose.

Each letter promised a new beginning, the start of a magical journey for young witches and wizards. However, on this particular day, the routine nature of his task was shattered by an inexplicable occurrence.

As Dumbledore meticulously sorted through the envelopes, his sharp eyes fell upon the name "Harry Potter." However, to his bewilderment, the name flickered as though caught in a magical flux. It was an oddity, a deviation from the usual pristine nature of Hogwarts acceptance letters. But what truly worried Dumbledore was the destination – Strandvägen 11A, Djursholm, Danderyd, Sweden. A location far removed from the ordinary streets of Little Whinging, where Harry Potter should have been residing with his non-magical relatives, the Dursleys.

The mere thought of Harry Potter being in Sweden was perplexing, and the flickering name added an air of mystique to the situation. Dumbledore's astute mind, a repository of ancient magical knowledge, contemplated the possibilities. Was it a magical anomaly? A deliberate enchantment? Or perhaps, a forewarning of something significant yet to come? His thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a tempest, each possibility branching into a myriad of conjectures.

Amidst this puzzlement, another name surfaced – a name that had long been buried in the annals of wizarding history: Tom Riddle.

To most, it was a mere name, a historical footnote. But to Dumbledore, it was a name laden with ominous significance, a name that once belonged to a dark wizard who had wreaked havoc upon the wizarding world. The appearance of this name on one of the envelopes sent a chill down Dumbledore's spine. What could it mean? How could this name resurface in the context of Hogwarts acceptance letters?

But most importantly, how was Tom Riddle alive?

Dumbledore's mind, a labyrinthine treasure trove of magical wisdom, worked tirelessly to unravel the intricacies of this puzzle. He knew that the young minds of Hogwarts, including Harry Potter, were delicate threads in the intricate tapestry of the wizarding world's future. Their safety and understanding of the magical realm were his utmost priorities. The flickering name on Harry Potter's letter and the reappearance of Tom Riddle's name were enigmas that demanded immediate attention.

As Dumbledore delved deeper into his investigation, a revelation struck him like a lightning bolt in the night — the addresses on Harry Potter's and Tom Riddle's letters were identical. His sharp eyes widened with realisation. The sinister synchronicity of these addresses, leading to an obscure location in Sweden, was an alarming discovery. It hinted at a connection, a dark thread weaving together the destinies of two individuals who represented opposite ends of the magical spectrum.

A shiver of fear coursed through Dumbledore as he comprehended the gravity of the situation. The safety of Harry Potter, the young wizard destined for greatness, and the echoes of Tom Riddle's malevolence were intricately entwined. The very foundations of Hogwarts seemed to tremble under the weight of this revelation.

At that moment, Dumbledore made a resolute decision. The summer serenity outside his office, with the castle grounds bathed in golden sunlight, left room only for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant song of a magical creature. Within this stillness, Dumbledore, driven by his indomitable will and the knowledge that he was the only one capable of this task, decided to create an illegal Portkey.

With a flick of his wand and a whispered incantation, the Portkey materialised, a shimmering object with an otherworldly glow. Undeterred by the legality of his actions, the Headmaster grasped the Portkey firmly. In an instant, he would be transported to Sweden, to Strandvägen 11A, Djursholm, Danderyd, to uncover the mysteries that awaited him and to ensure the safety of Harry Potter in the face of the looming darkness.

The wind howled through the grandeur of the Swedish landscape, a chilling reminder of the power and prestige surrounding the castle Dumbledore was approaching. His steps echoed with purpose as he approached the glorious structure. The castle stood tall and imposing, its architectural brilliance akin to the grandeur of ancient palaces, an embodiment of regality that dwarfed even Hogwarts in its luxury.

As Dumbledore approached the gates of the royal castle, he felt a profound reverence and awe. The guards stationed at the entrance were not ordinary sentinels; they were the defenders of the crown, sworn to protect the Royalty at any cost. Dumbledore understood the gravity of his situation. He couldn't rely on mere words to gain entry; he needed something more potent to compel even the most steadfast guardians to yield.

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore summoned his considerable magical prowess. With a flick of his wand and a whispered incantation, he invoked a Compulsion Charm, a powerful enchantment that would subtly influence the thoughts and decisions of those around him. It was a tool he rarely used, reserved for moments of utmost necessity. He focused his energy, his will intertwining with the magic he commanded, and approached the guards with serene authority.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I am Albus Dumbledore, a trusted advisor from the International Confederation of Wizards. I bear a message of utmost importance from the British Ministry of Magic and, most crucially, from Her Majesty, the Queen of England. I request an audience with the esteemed occupants of this magnificent abode," Dumbledore spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his authority.

The guards, their eyes glinting with steely determination, regarded Dumbledore with suspicion. The Compulsion Charm, though potent, was met with fierce loyalty. After hesitating, one of the guards spoke, his voice firm. "We shall request an audience with the Queen, but there are no guarantees, Mr. Dumbledore. Please wait here."

Dumbledore nodded, his expression composed, but inside, a tempest brewed. The minutes felt like hours as he waited, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

The rejection, when it came, struck like a thunderbolt. The guard returned, grim-faced. "The Queen has refused your request. Her orders are final."

Fury, cold and sharp, ignited in Dumbledore's eyes. His every instinct screamed at him to fight, to defy the Queen's decision, but he knew the consequences could be catastrophic. Still, he couldn't accept defeat. "I cannot leave. Lives are at stake. I implore you to reconsider. The danger is not just to me or those involved; it threatens the entire magical world."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, torn between their loyalty to the Queen and Dumbledore's urgent plea. Dumbledore's gaze bore into them, a silent plea for understanding. But their loyalty was unyielding. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dumbledore. We cannot defy the Queen's orders. You must leave."

Dumbledore's fists clenched with frustration, his every instinct screaming at him to fight, but he knew he had no choice. Reluctantly, he turned away, his steps heavy as he retraced his path from the castle. The night that began with hope and purpose turned into a bitter defeat. Yet, even in the face of rejection, Dumbledore's resolve remained unbroken. The safety of Harry Potter, the looming threat of Tom Riddle, and the mysteries of the royal castle still demanded his attention. He would find another way to uncover the truth and protect the lives hanging in the balance. With every step he took from the castle, he vowed to return, unravel the secrets within, and confront the darkness behind the regal façade.

Just as he reached the edge, he stopped.

He would stay, Albus decided. He would force Royalty's hand by refusing to go anywhere.

The wind whispered through the Swedish night, carrying the weight of nonacceptance. The guards' loyalty to the Queen had proven unyielding, yet Albus Dumbledore's determination remained unbroken. Fuelled by an unrelenting resolve, he was unwilling to accept defeat.

Instead, he settled himself firmly on the cold ground just outside the castle gates, his piercing blue eyes reflecting a defiant glint. The grandeur of the royal castle loomed behind him, an imposing fortress that had thwarted his mission, at least for now.

Seated amidst the darkness, Dumbledore's mind churned with thoughts of strategy and alternatives. The safety of Harry Potter and the ominous presence of Tom Riddle weighed heavily on his thoughts. He contemplated his next move, his every faculty focused on finding another way, another avenue of approach into the heart of the castle.

The guards, their duty-bound faces etched with unease, glanced at Dumbledore. His silent protest resonated with them, igniting a spark of empathy despite their allegiance. The atmosphere crackled with tension, a silent battle of wills that played out in the crisp night air.

Minutes turned into hours, yet Dumbledore remained steadfast, a warden of determination. His defiance spoke volumes — a declaration that he would not be swayed, that he would continue to fight for the lives in peril. The night pressed on, the world around him cloaked in silence. Still, Dumbledore's presence was a beacon of unwavering purpose, a symbol of resistance against the forces that sought to obstruct his path.

And so, under the vast canopy of the starlit sky, Dumbledore waited. His vigil was not just an act of rebellion; it was a statement of his unwavering commitment, a silent proclamation that he would not rest until he found a way to protect those he cared for and confront the shadows that loomed over the magical world. The night may have been dark, but Dumbledore's spirit burned with an unquenchable light, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty, illuminating the path toward a future where darkness would be vanquished and the dawn of a new day would finally break.

But also, Dumbledore thought as he leaned against a pillar, closing his eyes. Without Harry Potter as a puppet to parade around for his school and country, how would he continue to lead?

He needed his Martyr. He needed Harry Potter. And if Tom Riddle was genuinely alive, well, murder wasn't beneath him.

It was for the greater good, after all.