July 31 1986, No. 4 Privet Drive
Above a small house in Surrey, Little Whinging, storm clouds were gathering. The wind was howling.
Boy was alone at no. 4, usually this would be the cause for celebration. No chores. No fear of beatings. The Dursleys have left for an outing. He couldn't remember if they left a few hours ago or a few days ago. Right now, he was even hard pressed to remember that he was a boy. He was in pain. His entire chest felt like it was on fire while being pierced by a thousand needles. He was sweating. He was heaving. He was locked up in his little cupboard, clawing his fingers on the door.
The sound of thunder was audible.
"Let me out!" he screamed with a barely audible voice.
He fell back, breathing heavily. Having imagined many things in his life. Good. Bad. Even wondered about death a few times. Which was weird seeing as how he was six years old. Many people that age didn't even grasp the concept of 'life and death' let alone thinking about how they would end up in a grave. Though Vernon would one day go overboard with his beatings. Petunia would let him starve. Hell, maybe one day the house would catch on fire and they would leave him to burn alive. During those days of morbid contemplation he believed he would welcome Death with open arms, guiding him to his parents. They might have been drunks. They might have even died in a car accident but they were still his parents. So they must love him, right? What parent doesn't love their own child, right? Seeing Dudley everyday was just proof of parental love in his eyes. Yet now when almost at Death's doorstep he could only do one thing.
Lightning hit a tree nearby followed by many other strikes upon the ground. The storm growing angrier as Harry grows desperate, his thoughts nothing more then prayers for survival as he realized he was not as welcoming of death as he thought he would be.
"I don't want to die. I… want… to live…"
§ I want to live! § a voice said in Boy's head.
"I want to be free!"
§ I want to be free! § repeated the voice.
"I want…"
A huge explosion rocked Little Whinging. The house was no more, only rubble remained.
-oOo-
August 3 1986, Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Albus Dumbledore was for the first time in a long, long while confused. Harry Potter is 'allegedly' dead. Allegedly because so far every piece of evidence points to it but...
The Dursleys, after being verified by legilimency and veritaserum, confirmed that on the night of the 31st Harry Potter was locked inside No.4. First locked in the house itself then within the house in a cupboard. So, when the explosion, which epicenter was no doubt the house itself, occurred he wouldn't be able to escape even if he wanted to.
All of the instruments that were monitoring Harry's life signs and the wards stopped functioning at the same time, meaning that the person, Harry James Potter, ceased to exist.
The goblins of Gringotts, with means to monitor their wealthiest clients' life signs in a completely different manner than wizards, also declared that one Harry James Potter, the last of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, had perished on the night of July the 31st.
That in itself was giving Albus headaches. With the last of the Potters dead and no will nor successor, the goblins have already sent out owls to the Ministry of Magic so that the Wizengamot may divide the Potter wealth. Now he couldn't even hide the fact that Mr. Potter is dead and needed to find a good explanation that would allow him to keep his position as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster.
Maybe he should have made an effort to get Sirius out of prison. He couldn't just capture Peter!? Albus thought in anger, No, he had to kill Peter in a way where he also blew up a street with 13 muggles.' Albus just shook his head at the man's nearsightedness. 'At least he got his revenge.
The simple fact that the prophecy still exists in the Hall of Prophecies is what confuses him. If Mr. Potter, the prophesized one was indeed dead then the prophecy orb would have burned out. Not to mention that based on the prophecy only Tom would be able to kill Mr. Potter. Even if Tom returned, found the location where Mr. Potter was held, bypassed the wards and ended his life the prophecy orb would, again, burn out. Yet the prophecy orb still shines, bright as ever.
"Maybe, just maybe," he spoke in a whisper.
There were two possible children, two candidates for the prophecy. Just maybe it wasn't young Mr. Potter but Mr. Longbottom who the prophecy referred to? In hindsight, Harry did not vanquish Tom, just bought us all some time, throwing his followers in disarray. Even he, The Great Albus Dumbledore, didn't know what transpired on the fateful Halloween.
A smile formed on his face.
'This might even turn out for the best,' he thought as he jumped out of his chair and started walking out of his office.
His original plan, where he would set Mr. Potter against Tom in a very public fashion to let Tom kill Mr. Potter, weaken himself and then swoop down to defeat a weakened Tom to seize the glory, would have to change.
First, he would have to make sure that the majority of the Potter fortune goes to Light families. That way he can start conquering England by wealth and manipulation much earlier than he expected. Neither Tom nor Grindelwald understood the art of subtlety and patience.
The betrothal contract to Miss Weasley will make sure that the Weasley family gets a hefty amount of the fortune, they might even receive old Potter manor, which would please Molly greatly. How else to ensure their unquestionable loyalty then giving them what they always wished for? Power, wealth and social standing. He might even be able to grant them the Potter seat in the Wizengamot.
If he unsealed the Potter will then he might even convince the Wizengamot to let Mr. Longbottom receive the biggest cut, on behalf of Alice, Mr. Potter's godmother. The Longbottom funds ran rather low after the war and numerous failed treatments for Alice and Frank. Not only would that please Augusta it would also soften her up for his final phase, to convince her that young Neville is not a squib but really a powerful warrior, just like Frank was.
Albus chuckled at that. No easier way to make Augusta let him groom Neville then to bring up Frank. Not that there was much of him left as Augusta systematically molded Neville to become Frank's twin. He would take Neville under his wing and train him as his protégé. Albus never did want to live forever. A much better chess piece then the meek and pliable Mr. Potter. Neville might even stand a chance at defeating Tom.
-oOo-
The boy-who-lived died
By Rita Skeeter
As our readers know the goblins of Gringotts have declared that our savior, the boy-who-lived, passed away on the night which should have been his 6th birthday. What everyone wanted to know was how could such a thing happen when he was in the personal care of our esteemed Chief Warlock. Well readers, we finally have our answers. Today Albus Dumbledore came to the Daily Prophet to personally supply us with a firsthand account of everything that has happened since 1981.
After he gave us young Harry's story, we couldn't do anything else than cry for our lost hero. You see after that fateful night young Harry's magical core became very unstable so Mr. Dumbledore took it upon himself to personally make sure that Harry gets the best treatment the world could offer. The reason no one could find him in England was because he was moved from professional healer to professional healer. In the end they could only slow down the inevitable. Mr. Dumbledore also says that Mr. Potter's last days were spent in luxury. He passed away in his sleep, with no pain.
We at the Daily Prophet salute Harry Potter for all the sacrifices he has given Wizarding Britain, first he gave us his parents then his own life so that we can enjoy the peace we deserve.
Plans in the Ministry point that Oct 31st will become the official Harry Potter day, and a full-scale monument of Mr. Potter and his parents will be raised in Godric's Hollow, more on the plans for the monument and on the history of the Potter family on page 16…
-oOo-
Dec 19 1986, Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton
Two shabbily dressed 6 year old boys were walking up the stairs of what was once a beautiful manor, while fighting off the harsh wind and cold snow. It seemed like the storm was following them wherever they went.
"Are you sure?" asked the boy with messy untamable black hair.
"It's abandoned. No one will bother us here. It will keep us warm and sheltered during the winter. There's a village down the hill where we can buy food," the second black haired boy replied, mildly annoyed by the constant questioning.
As the two boys were walking through the corridors the house felt like it was awakening. The broken glass started to reassemble itself, doors were reattaching to its hinges, cracks in the wood and stone were fusing together. The dust, cobwebs and pests just vanished as they passed them.
One of the boys raised an eyebrow at the other. "It seems like we might make this a more permanent residence."
The other just shrugged, still not fully understanding the situation, a list of questions forming in his mind, yet he held back knowing his older brother was in a bad mood.
They entered into a lounge where the fireplace was already stacked with logs. The messy haired boy sat on one of the armchairs near the fireplace while the other stood in front of the hearth.
"So… what do we do now, Tom?"
The other boy just stared at the fireplace, pointing a stick towards the logs.
"Incendio!"