A/N In the interest of forestalling questions, yes, Mr. Darcy and I do know how to conjugate English verbs. Bathilda Bagshot speaks the way she does with a reason, and if we're lucky enough, this story will continue long enough for us to explain more fully. :)
Lady Beatrice
Chapter 1: Hiding Harry
Appearing outside the wards of Hogwarts, Bathilda made her way across the grounds she remembered from her own years there, so long ago. Young Albus was the headmaster here now, and she knew he was the only one powerful and well-connected enough to help her protect Harry. She'd lost too many of her friends in the war with Grindelwald; she owed it to the younger generations to try and keep them safe from the new Dark Lord.
The large doors into Hogwarts seemed to remember her as she approached, and they swung inward at a gentle swish of her wand. Still disillusioned, she walked through the castle, ignoring the rambunctious sounds from the traditional Hogwarts Halloween feast. Finding the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Albus' quarters, she remembered the last time she'd been to visit her friend. If she recalled correctly, the password had been some kind of Muggle candy. Well, she'd seen plenty of that in Godrics Hollow tonight.
"Banana Splits? Black Jack Taffy? Astro Pops? Cinnamon Toothpicks? Atomic Fireballs? Licorice Bears? Cherry Sours?"
The last one caused the gargoyle to swing aside, and Bathilda gratefully climbed the stairs up to the office. She tiredly trudged past Fawkes' on his perch, ignoring the whirring, buzzing madness that was Albus' desk, and continued up the staircase in the back of the office to Albus's living quarters. Several of his favourite plush, purple armchairs were sitting by the cosy fire, and Bathilda gratefully sank into one. She put baby Harry down on the carpet and noticed his scar was still slowly oozing blood. Frowning, she cleaned his face up again with a flick of her wand. Exhausted both by her exertions and tumultuous emotions, she slowly drifted off to sleep by the warmth of the fire.
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~
Albus Dumbledore was delighted with the way the feast was progressing. The annual food fight had just begun, and Sybill Trelawney had deigned to come down from her tower, claiming there was so much magic in the air tonight that her inner eye would get clouded even in her tower. As it was, Minerva and Sybill were having a lively squabble at the end of the head table about Minerva's tea leaves symbolizing an imminent, torrid romance. Their volume was only rivaled by the noise of the ongoing food fight. Yes, a perfect Halloween feast. He surreptitiously escaped from the Great Hall before Minerva got bored with Sybill and decided that he should stop the rest of the fun.
Turning around the corner, Albus was surprised to find Fawkes waiting for him on the gargoyle. Today was the day before his burning day, which usually meant he spent the entire day sleeping. Something bad must have happened for Fawkes to be waiting for him. He offered Fawkes his shoulder and muttered the password. Up in his office, he was immediately distracted by some of the whirring contraptions on his desk. Someone had snuck into Hogwarts, the Potters had been attacked, and the charmed unicorn plushie he'd been using to keep track of Voldemort's growing powers had melted. But before he could floo anyone or summon Minerva to help, Fawkes pecked at his ear and then flew up the stairs into his private rooms. Trusting his faithful phoenix, Albus followed it up the stairs.
He was astonished to see his old History of Magic teacher, Professor Bagshot, in one of his plump chairs. No, Bathilda, he admonished himself. She'd told him on his 100th birthday that it showed her age too much to have him call her 'professor.' She lived in Godric's Hollow with the Potters - was that why she was here? He noiselessly sat down in the chair opposite her, only to startle at the sight of the sleeping infant on the floor being watched by Fawkes. The noise of his movement caused Professor Bagsh - Bathilda to wake up. She sighed in relief.
"Albus, I will not want to interrupted the feast, but I had to going somewhere with little Harry, and with all the deaths, I not know who to trust. Yet I can not just leave him there amidst all the chaos and not knew if any of them were go to coming back…"
The aged headmaster gently held up his hand to stop the flow of words. His old professor was quite articulate when teaching history, but when it came to the present, she always seemed to get things jumbled up. Today, it was too critical and time-sensitive for him to patiently sort it all out.
"Accio Pensive"
Bathilda sighed as the pensive came flying into the room. She didn't regret her choice to study history and all the historical magic that had entailed, but the price of that powerful magic was heavy. She would be unable to accurately or articulately explain recent events for the remainder of her life. It was sometimes irritating, and some people called her batty because of it, but she didn't mind. People who knew her understood this had been the cost of the magic needed to write all those books, and people who didn't could be ignored. As Albus held the pensive, she copied her memories into the silver basin and let him take the trip alone. One Death Eater attack was more than enough for a day.
Warned by the silver bell on his desk, which now looked like it had been scorched in fire, Albus had already known that the Potter house would be in shambles. Having been blasted with all manner of hexes and curses, the foyer where James had died was completely devastated. Albus knew the battle must have been fierce, with his student fighting not only for his own life but his family's life. His dismembered body grotesquely testified to his failed efforts. Following Bathilda up the stairs, he was transfixed by the room. Something about it… powerful magic had wrecked the Pottery nursery, but the source was unfamiliar, which bothered him immensely. The fact that the Potter boy had survived the maelstrom intrigued him, as did the fact that the mark etched on the boy's forehead resisted magic. Could the boy absorb magic? As he watched Bathilda leave, he realized this was unlikely - she had spelled him to sleep easily enough.
Fascinated, he returned from memory to see Fawkes shed a single tear over the boy. As the drop fell onto the boy's forehead, the cut, which had still been oozing blood, slowly healed to form a thin scar. Albus hid a small chuckle. It seems his pet liked the child. But what was to be done with him? James Potter had no siblings; a common problem among pureblood families. But Lily was a muggle-born ...she'd had a sister, hadn't she?
"The child cannot stay in the wizarding world, Bathilda. Voldemort's followers will not let anyone associated with their master's downfall escape. Lily Potter's muggle sister, Petunia, has a son the same age as Harry; I believe she could be persuaded to take the child. I could erect powerful wards around the house based on their blood ties. That would keep the boy safe."
"No, Albus. No love there. Always hating Lily did Petunia. She was surely hating the boy as well. But if he cannot be safe in the British magical world, I will be dead and take him away to live among wizards elsewhere."
"If you're suggesting that we fake your death to allow you to take Harry, I disagree. If he stays in the wizarding world, he should stay with one of his godparents. Given that the Fidelus failed the Potters, I would not trust Sirius. Perhaps we should leave him with Mary MacDonald, his godmother."
Bathilda looked away from Albus and into the fireplace. "Exactly! We didn't know who we would trust. Mary may just as easily is a traitor as well! I will be the best choice. We could not be trusting anyone else."
"Harry will need a family, Bathilda, and you are hardly spry enough to care for him in place of a mother, father, and siblings. I know how much you've loved being around the young Potters after knowing the family for so long, but I don't see you giving Harry any chance at being normal."
Bathilda sighed, silently agreeing with Albus, and turned back from the fire to look at her one-time student. Behind him, many old, magical books sat on the shelves, waiting for someone to read them. A few titles caught her eye, and she was reminded of a book that might help them solve their problem. "How about this; you has the registry for magical children in England for sending acceptance letters to when they turned 11. We can looked at it and finding muggle families with other magical children his age. Then, we can asked them to taken Harry and leave England. He can growing up as a wizard, but with a muggle family, and not in England. I going with them, under a new name to helping them and looked after the child."
Albus looked at his strange old teacher. He would prefer to keep the boy close and keep an eye on him, but it hadn't worked out very well the last time he'd tried to sort out an orphan's life. Perhaps leaving him in Bathilda's care would be for the best. After all, he had a Dark Lord to clean up after and that wouldn't leave him much time to check in on Harry. Remembering his whizzing, buzzing desk, he realized he had other things to look into tonight, including deciphering how Harry had survived.
"I like that idea, Bathilda. We can look at the list of muggleborns in the morning. As it is, you've had a long night. You should get some rest. I'll examine the ruins of the Potter's Cottage more thoroughly and arrange for your unfortunate demise. Is your magic still strong enough to make a doppelganger?"
At Bathilda's nod, Albus transfigured the carpet into a cradle for Harry and split his bed in half. The two adults walked over to one of the halves. Bathilda lay down on the bed and gently touched one of the remaining bedposts while whispering and waving her wand. In a few minutes, the bedpost was gone, and a very precise replica of Bathilda stood in its place. It was the same in almost every way, down to the magical signature. It was weaker, but it would be enough for an auror team to identify the remains of the transfigured doppelganger as his aging professor. After her draining use of magic, Bathilda soon fell asleep and likely would continue sleeping until late tomorrow morning. Alas, it seemed as though his responsibilities would keep him from enjoying watching Minerva hex Sybill into incoherence.
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~
Seeing the devastation of the Potters in person and smelling the acrid scent in the air from all the curses brought back terrible memories of fighting Grindelwald. He let Bathilda's doppelganger drop down to the ground in the nursery before lifting Lily's body out of the room and taking it down the stairs. He carefully deposited her body before arranging it to look like she'd been fleeing to the nursery when killed. He sighed; magic was so much easier to use, but it simply wouldn't do to have traces of his magic all over the crime scene when the aurors investigated.
A swift check of the relatively untouched sections of the house revealed several items that he and Harry might find interesting in the future. He'd take good care of them until the boy needed them, and Albus doubted the senior Potters, as loyal members of the Order and good personal friends, would mind if he borrowed them in the meantime.
Wanting to destroy the evidence that Harry had survived without leaving traces of his magic, Albus headed outside, reached into one of his many pockets, and pulled out a large, interesting muggle device he had acquired during the war with Grindelwald. It was like a powerful incendio but without any magic; a muggle flamethrower was quite an ingenious invention. After checking to ensure the fire containment wards around the cottage were still in place, he strapped on the giant contraption and aimed it at the second story. He pulled the trigger, and a jet of flames leapt toward Harry's nursery. As the cottage caught flame and began to burn, Albus felt a sense of melancholy at what he had done. He had always looked forward to finding an opportunity to use his flame thrower, but he wished it were under better circumstances. Knowing Hagrid was planning on visiting the Potters after the Halloween feast, he hurried into the busy street to distance himself before he apparated away.
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~
Sirius Black sat in his rented room at the Hog's Head Inn, drinking troll's grog. It was perfectly vile, but it did the job he wanted in the quickest way possible - he was completely and perfectly drunk. Halloween was the perfectly terrible time of year for death eater attacks, and as an auror, he was usually on the front lines. However, tonight he wasn't on duty or standby for the first Halloween since graduating from auror training. Hence, he was getting perfectly plastered. He would have preferred to spend time at the Potters, but he knew he couldn't be seen in Godric's Hollow too often, or he would risk giving away their location. Still… it was Halloween, which meant Old Voldie was probably perfectly focused on causing perfect mayhem elsewhere tonight. It wasn't that late yet, so there would still be plenty of muggles in costume around, so maybe he could blend in perfectly with the crowd. His new flying motorcycle! YES! That would be perfectly perfect. Downing the last of his third bottle of grog, Sirius apparated to his new toy, splinching some of his nose hair in the process, and climbed on with a distinct wobble.
The disillusionment charm on the motorcycle allowed Sirius to fly into Godric's Hollow unnoticed. He cruised up the main road through town, noting that his plan was working perfectly. Aside from a few jealous glances - and who wouldn't be a little green - he was being perfectly ignored. Soon, he was through the Fidelius and parking his perfect shiny bike by the gate. It was only then that he thought to look at the cottage. The front door was gone - blown away, along with large chunks of the surrounding wall and roof pieces. But what caught his attention after the first shock knocked him sober was the fire engulfing the house's second story, including the nursery.
"HARRY!" Breaking into a sprint, Sirius dashed into the cottage and toward the stairs, not noticing either body until he tripped over Lily's remains. Horrified, he continued up the stairs into the burning second story. Covering his mouth and nose with his robe and ignoring the stinging in his eyes due to the smoke and heat, he pulled out his wand and shouted "Aguamenti," starting to put out the flames. Once he had cleared a way to the nursery, he noticed a skeleton - but no, it was too big - it must be an adult. Near the skeleton was only ash where the crib should have been. Falling to his knees, Sirius yelled in anguish - his best friend and his entire family were gone, DEAD, and it was all his fault! Why had he refused to be the secret keeper and suggested Peter… PETER! THE SLIMY TWO-TIMING RAT! HE WAS GOING TO KILL HIM! Vengeance burning in his eyes, Sirius left the cottage to start his hunt. So consumed by thoughts of vengeance, he barely noticed the hulking half-giant thudding loudly in his direction.
"Sirius! What's goin' on here?"
Sirius started at the loud, rumbling voice before responding, "They're all dead, Hagrid - dead and gone. I have to find the rat!"
Hagrid's eyes filled with tears. "Even lil' Harry?"
"Take a look for yourself." Sirius mumbled while gesturing towards the burnt out shell, still striding towards the forest.
"I've got to get back to Dumbledore an' tell him!"
"Do as you wish. Take the bike." Perhaps then the dumb half-giant would let him concentrate on finding Peter. He had led the Death Eaters here.
"Thanks! It looks real great Sirius. I'll return it!" Hagrid swung onto the bike and flew off, barely hearing the words behind him: "Just go." A quick tracking spell indicated that his former friend had been there and fled towards London through the forest. A wicked grin spread over Sirius's face as he transformed into a big black dog. With Padfoot's nose, he might be able to catch up to the little blighter before he got there.
~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note ~~~~~~~~~~
A/N I hope you had as much fun reading as Mr. Darcy and I did writing. :) Please review! Questions and comments are most welcome.