AN: Lots of talking and explaining in this chapter. No getting around that, I'm afraid. Especially with Mr. Travers being how he is.
I don't own anything. I think think Alduin Travers would like the idea of me owning him.
And once more, if I could ask you to please click on the survey that's linked at the top of my author page? Pretty please?
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Harry walked behind Mr. Travers, outside and to the street, clenching his things to his chest, packed in a sheet. He was still a little dizzy from how fast everything happened, and wondering how did the man make it so that he was floating in the air for a moment. His newly discovered cousin led him to a secluded place several streets away and turned to him. "Just learning that magic was real," he said, "this is going to be a little shocking for you, but I have no intention of traveling by Muggle means. Hold onto my arm, very tightly. We are going to Apparate."
Harry, not knowing what else to do, obediently took the man's arm. He felt Mr. Travers spin, then there was a strong pressure all around him, and just as he was thinking that all those warnings on the telly had been right and that he had met a crazy murderer who was just beginning to torture him in some strange way, the feeling stopped and when Harry opened his eyes – he wasn't even aware that he had closed them – he saw that they were standing in a hall of some magnificent mansion. "Welcome," the man said, "to Travers Manor."
Harry stared. Have they just traveled by magic? Actual, real magic, not some trick that could be explained in a behind-the-scenes show? He could not come up with a way this could have been faked. "This is your house?" He asked, astonished.
"Yes. Now let me show you to your room."
If magic was real, and he just got to experience it...this was so cool.
Mr. Travers led the way upstairs and through a long corridor, and then to an enormous room with a large canopy bed dominating it. "Here we are," Mr. Travers said. "This room should be just right for you, shouldn't it?"
"This room?" Harry stared, forgetting all his musing about magic in light of more practical concerns. "But sir, I mean...it is so big!"
Mr. Travers raised his eyebrow. "There aren't many small rooms in this house, and I'm certainly not making you sleep in a cupboard. And none of this 'sir' nonsense, I told you we were cousins. Get settled and then come down to – can you find the stairs again?"
"I think so, s-" Harry checked himself in time.
"Good. Then just come back downstairs to the hall, and call my name, and I will fetch you. And by the way, the bathroom is just next door."
After Mr. Travers left, Harry looked around himself and then put his small bundle on the bed. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He sorted the clothes and refolded it, and looked around. Was he allowed to use the wardrobe and the chest of drawers? He didn't know. Mr. Travers did say the room was his, but it all seemed just too posh to be used...in the end, Harry simply left his things on the bed, took off his coat, carefully folded it on the bed, and went downstairs to speak to Mr. Travers. There were too many questions swimming around his head to be patient.
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Meanwhile, Alduin Travers marched downstairs to his drawing room and threw a fistful of Floo powder in the fireplace. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!" He shouted, kneeling to stick his head inside, and in no time at all, he was facing Albus Dumbledore himself. "I have relocated Harry Potter to my house," he said without preamble.
Dumbledore's face grew cold immediately. "I have told you..."
"I don't care what you told me. I had my reservations before, as you know – no amount of blood wards could protect Harry when he was outside the house, which was a good portion of the time, actually – but they were abusing and mistreating him there, Dumbledore. This is the end of discussion. Travers Manor is a very safe place, and I will be treating him well, so his chances of actually living till adulthood have just markedly improved, I would say. But you are welcome to try and bring the case to Wizengamot."
Dumbledore frowned. He knew very well he had no chance of winning if he did that, which was exactly why the younger man had said it. In that moment, Alduin heard shouting from the hall. "I have to go now," he said, "but you are welcome to contact me after dinner if you want to discuss it more." And he severed the connection.
In the entrance hall, he found Harry looking confusedly and a little dazedly around himself. "This way," he said, "follow me."
He led his new charge back to the drawing room, where he pointed to an armchair. "Please, sit down. I will call for tea. Nitty!"
His parlour-elf appeared, and Harry jumped and shrieked a little. Right. Another thing he didn't know.
"Full tea for two, if you please."
The elf just nodded and popped away, and Alduin sat down opposite Harry. "So," he said, "I assume you have questions."
His cousin just nodded mutely.
"I will attempt to give some sort of comprehensive explanation first and see how much I can cover, and then you are free to ask, all right?"
A nod.
Alduin took a deep breath and began. "I gather you do not know anything about magic from your Aunt. So let us start with this. There is a force in this world which is called magic. Some people are born with it. It cannot be learned, though the talent can be improved on by training. It is chiefly hereditary, but you do get the anomalous Squib now and then – meaning a person whose parents are magical, but who themselves cannot control magic – and, much more often, you get the Muggle-born. That is a random genetic mutation in the opposite direction: a person from a non-magical family is born with the ability to control magic. One of those cases was your mother. Both of her parents were Muggles – non-magical – but she herself was a witch."
"My mum was a witch?" Harry was clearly flabbergasted.
Alduin inclined his head. "Yes. And your father was a wizard. He, however, was from a very old family of witches and wizards – The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter."
Harry frowned. "So...does that mean I am a...how was the word? Squib?"
Alduin looked at him, astonished. "Certainly not! You, Harry, are a wizard, too."
The boy blinked. "What?"
His cousin smiled at him thinly in return. "Oh yes."
"Me? But that's...I mean, I can't do magic," Harry tried to explain helpfully.
Alduin's smile broadened. "Not yet – at least not intentionally – because you haven't been trained yet. That's what Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is for. But think back and tell me, have you ever done something unusual or mysterious, especially when you were upset?"
"Well – yes! I turned a teacher's hair blue, and I made a sweater shrink, and I made my hair grow really quickly...and some other things, too!" Harry sounded excited now.
"You see?" Alduin said, as the food appeared and he motioned for Harry to eat. "That is what's called accidental magic. It happens to untrained children, and sometimes to trained adults, too, when the emotional pressure is too big and they are powerful enough. Part of the point of your training is learning to control it, to avoid accidents. But more on that later. What did your Aunt tell you about your parents?"
Harry shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "Not much. She always hated when I asked about them, and the Dursleys only ever told me that they were good for nothing, and that they died in a car crash."
"That is certainly not true." At least not the second part, Alduin thought uncharitably, but he had no intention of saying that aloud. "Both of your parents were quite talented and powerful magicians, and their deaths were anything but mundane. You see, there was an evil wizard that appeared some time ago, and he started to gain followers and he was trying to get to power, sweeping anyone who stood against him out of the way. Your parents were one of those who made a stand, and he decided to eliminate them. He came to your house one Halloween night, when you were just one year old, and killed both of them. And this is where the most mysterious part happened – he then proceeded to try and kill you, only to be destroyed himself. He is probably not quite dead, but nevertheless, he has been gone for nine years now, and as you were connected to his downfall, you are known in the wizarding world as the Boy Who Lived, and celebrated as a hero."
Harry was silent for a long while, and then he asked: "But why? The way you say it, it sounds like he made a mistake or something..."
Alduin shook his head. "No one knows what really happened there, Harry. The fact is that you are the only person to survive such a direct encounter with him, and bear a scar to prove it."
"You mean...?" The boy touched his forehead.
Alduin nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes. Your lighting bolt scar is where the curse hit you."
Harry frowned. "I think I remember a little...a lot of green light...and a laugh, I think."
This time, Alduin's nod was more pronounced, and more thoughtful. It was interestign that the boy remembered. "The green light would be the killing curse. It manifests as a stream of green light, and it causes instant death. There is no counter-curse and it can go through any magical shield, though not through a physical one, so hiding behind things does actually help. One use of such a curse can earn you a lifelong stay in Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Not just because it kills – lots of curses can kill – but because the one who uses it has to really fully intend to kill, with all his being, for the curse to work. It shows you what this dark wizards was like, that he was capable of using such a curse on a baby."
Harry mused on that a moment, then he said: "This man, the one who murdered my parents...you only call his dark wizard...what was his name?"
Alduin actually smiled a little, even though he did not want the boy to think he was mocking his family tragedy. "Now that is a loaded question. I know this should be simple to answer, but it actually isn't. The man was born under one name – Tom Riddle – but no one will know it's him when you say that. He assumed the title of Lord Voldemort when he decided to rule the world, and that's how most people know him, only they don't like to say the name."
"Why?"
Alduin sighed. "In the magical world, names of things sometimes have power, and they are afraid that if they say his name, he will hear them, even though there was never any evidence to that effect. But some very dangerous demons work that way, and I think because he was so evil, people made that connection. So normally, you will hear him being referred to as You Know Who, or He Who Must Not Be Named."
Harry frowned. "That sounds silly."
"I agree in part, though once you are longer in the magical world, it will seem less silly to you." Alduin paused. "But, anyway, to continue with your family history. I know it's hard to hear, but I think it's better if you have it all at once. So, just a day after this tragedy, Sirius Black, your father's supposed best friend and your godfather, turned out to be on Riddle's side all along. It was him who sold your parents to the dark wizard, told him where they were hiding. After Riddle's downfall, it appears he went a little crazy. He killed twelve Muggles and another friend of your father's, who confronted him about the betrayal. He was arrested soon afterwards, laughing madly. He is in Azkaban now, and will be for the rest of his life."
"Good," Harry said in a hard voice.
"I agree completely. I knew Black personally and looking back, I have to say it's astonishing no one spotted he was clearly a sociopath sooner." Or maybe they spotted it and chose to turn a blind eye to it? One never knew with Dumbledore.
"How come my father didn't know, if you think it was obvious?" Harry asked.
"Well, your father met Black when he was eleven, and of course at that time it wasn't clear. And later, they were friends. Your father was very loyal, and wouldn't hear anything against his best mate. And Black could be very charming and amusing when he wanted, and he was always so towards James, and later towards Lily. It was only when you looked at how he treated the weak you could see what he was really like." Of course, the same could be said about James, but Alduin was hardly going to talk about that now.
"Anyway," he continued. "so your godfather was gone. Both Lily's and James' parents had already been dead for some time, as well as mine. James' mother had had a brother, but he had been dead already too. His son and the son's wife were still alive, though, as well as their son, who was almost exactly your age. I believe that you would have perhaps been placed in their care, given time – they were not as closely related to you as the Dursleys, but they were wizards, and so the Wizengamot would have preferred them - but before that could be arranged, a terrible attack on them happened, by some remaining followers of Riddle. They are not dead, but they were tortured into insanity by them. Only their their son remained alive, and his grandmother, who, however, is hardly related to you at all, as much as that can be said about anyone in the wizarding world, which is very small. So out of all the people related to you more closely than through your great-great-grandparents – which would include a good portion of the wizarding world and could not, therefore, be basis for any solid claim – the only one remaining was me. And I was attacked by Riddle's followers about a month before you were killed. They had not killed me, thank Merlin, but they did manage to injure me gravely before I eliminated them, and I have spent the last nine years in a coma. I awakened just this summer, and came to check on your whereabouts as soon as I learned of your situation."
Harry looked half close to tears, half angry. "Did this Riddle have a vendetta against my family or something?"
Alduin sighed. "No, Harry, it just seems to you that way, because everyone is so closely related. In our world, when you are a pureblood – from a magical family, I mean - you generally have two options. Either many of your relations have been murdered by Riddle, or they have joined him. Actually, thinking about it, most manage to have both sorts."
"Do you?" Harry asked glumly.
"Certainly," Alduin replied drily. My uncle, Oswin Travers, is in prison for murdering the McKinnon family, and of course your father, James, is an example of the other kind. And if we went further, we could find much more – through my great-grandparents, I am related to Sirius and Regulus Black, both Riddle's servants, and Bellatrix Black, the woman primarily responsible for torturing the Longbottoms to insanity. All of those people, you are related to as well. My more heroic relations include the Shacklebolts, killed by Riddle's supporters."
There was a silence as Harry considered this new information, and then as he said, nothing, Alduin continued: "I think this is getting rather overwhelming, all the talk of dead relations you have never met. You must have some more practical questions."
Harry nodded slowly. "I guess...what happens now?"
"Well, now I will send you upstairs to take in what you have learned in peace. Tomorrow we will go to Diagon Alley – the wizarding shopping zone – to buy you some new clothes of the proper kind. After that, well..." Alduin paused, then asked: "You used to go to a Muggle elementary school, correct?"
"Yes."
"Did you like it there?"
Harry frowned. "Well, it was better than the Dursleys."
I bet it was. "Let me rephrase: if you had the choice between being educated at home – here – or going back there, what would you choose?"
Harry hesitated. "I don't want to be a bother..."
"Harry, I would much prefer to educate you at home. It is only that I didn't want to part you from your friends there."
"I never had any friends there," Harry explained helpfully, "because everyone was too afraid of Dudley – my cousin – to talk to me."
Alduin gave a deep sigh. "Did you take your schoolbooks from the Dursleys?"
"I did."
"Good. I will be teaching you at home, so your mornings on weekdays will be taken by that. I will be often gone during the afternoon, so you will be free to do what you want here in the house and garden. Later, when you get used to the wizarding world a little, I will take you to meet some other witches and wizards, some of the distant relations of yours – and certainly you should meet Neville Longbottom. He is your second cousin, which makes him the closest wizarding relation after me you have. And in September, you will go to Hogwarts. It's a boarding school, so you will only be coming home for Christmas and Easter holidays. I will tell you more about the school, and many other things, but I don't want to overwhelm you too much right now. Have you finished your food?"
Harry nodded. He hadn't eaten much, but then given the topic of their conversation, Alduin wasn't surprised. "Well then, come back down at eight, that's when dinner is served. Until then, I have work to do."
Harry nodded again and left the room.