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Harry Potter and the Butterfly Effect | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Rape, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 733 Summary: Minor events can have repercussions far beyond their size and importance. When one of these minor events occurs to a ten year-old Harry Potter he finds his world turned upside-down and it starts him down a very different path than the one he expected to follow. Hitcount: Story Total: 199416; Chapter Total: 7873 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Massive thanks as always to Tom aka MinistryMalcontent for his beta work and in-depth knowledge of cherry blossoms in the last chapter. No shrubberies were harmed in the writing of this story. |
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Chapter 10 — A Return to Haunted Shores Saturday, 6 July 1996 As the Portkey deposited him with a thump, Harry was pleased to note that he had returned to Britain with a great deal more grace than he left. The martial arts training had been good for one thing at least. Sensing someone behind him, Harry turned and was unsurprised to see the figure of Albus Dumbledore standing there with his hands folded in front of him. Harry was tempted to laugh out loud at the garish purple robes the man wore, but as he was dressed in oriental-style robes he thought it was probably him who looked more out of place. Slightly behind Dumbledore stood a stern-looking witch whom Harry recognised as the Deputy Head of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall. She at least was dressed in sensible black and green robes. “Professors.” Harry nodded a greeting in their direction. “Ah, Harry. It’s good to see you again. I trust your time in Japan was well spent?” the old wizard enquired. “It was extremely beneficial,” Harry replied in a neutral tone, making sure to display no surprise that Dumbledore knew where he had been. It had only been a matter of time before the old coot would have figured it out. “Excellent, Harry, excellent. Well, why don’t we all head to my office for a nice cup of tea? I’m sure you could use a drink after a journey of that distance. It will also give us the opportunity to discuss your future plans,” Dumbledore said. Harry just nodded and followed the elderly teachers through the front gates of Hogwarts. He fought down the feeling that he had just voluntarily entered a prison camp. The walk to the Headmaster’s office was a long one, but Harry noted that both the professors maintained a sprightly pace despite their age. Personally, he was just glad to stretch his legs after such a long and uncomfortable Portkey trip. He’d only visited Hogwarts a few times before. Then he had spent most of his time either some distance underground or stuck in an exam room, so he found the walk interesting. Hogwarts was certainly an imposing building, and you could sense the history of the place. The moving staircases were somewhat bemusing, and he definitely could have done without the rather obvious interest that every picture’s occupants showed at his presence. Eventually, they arrived at the seventh floor and entered Dumbledore’s office, the entrance to which had been hidden behind a statue of a Gargoyle. At the Headmaster’s command it leapt aside. One short trip on a moving, spiral staircase and they finally arrived at a polished oak door. Dumbledore went ahead and flung open the heavy door. Professor McGonagall followed next and took a seat beside an enormous desk, behind which Dumbledore had also sat himself. When Harry entered he was surprised to see another man already sat there. The man could best be described as roguishly handsome with black hair which hung to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was well dressed and exuded a casual elegance. His grey eyes regarded Harry with amusement in them. “Harry,” Dumbledore said, attracting his attention. “I’d like to introduce to you Sirius Black who…” Dumbledore got no further, as at mention of the man’s name Harry had instinctively summoned his Katana, the point of which was now pressed into Black’s throat. “HARRY! NO!” Dumbledore shouted. “Remember what I told you in that graveyard last year? Sirius has been declared innocent of betraying your parents and the murder of the Muggles. It was all Peter Pettigrew’s doing.” Slowly, Harry dropped the blade. He noted with slight satisfaction that Black no longer had that amused look on his face. Harry vanished his sword and regarded the man who he had been informed was his godfather. Black took a second to compose himself before addressing him. “Well, that was quite some greeting there, Harry,” Black commented with a wry grin. “Next time can we just shake hands? Where did you get the sword, by the way? And for that matter where did it go?” “A secret of the Tsuesenshi” Harry replied. “My blade is linked to me and can be summoned in the blink of an eye. Since I’m assured I don’t need to cut your head off, I returned it to its normal place.” “Oh, wacko! Just what I need: a psychopathic godson with his own instantly summonable sword. Well, that will a great trick at parties,” Black moaned. “Harry, really. There’s no need for hostility,” Dumbledore implored. “Perhaps if you’d warned me Black was going to be sitting in your office, I wouldn’t have reacted on pure instinct,” Harry growled. “I rather thought it would be a nice surprise for you, Harry,” Dumbledore replied. “I don’t like surprises,” Harry snapped. “Normally, when I get surprised bad things happen. You remember: I nearly blow up Privet Drive, I get kidnapped and get taken to Voldemort; that kind of thing.” “Right, no surprises. Duly noted,” Black murmured. “I am rather attached to my head, after all.” Harry felt a bit shame-faced at threatening the man. He was angrier with Dumbledore for playing his stupid games than he was at Black, after all. “Yeah, sorry about that. When I left England you were still officially a guilty man,” Harry explained. “I’ve been a bit out of touch and hadn’t heard about you being cleared.” Black beamed at him. “No damage done that a clean pair of underpants and a shower won’t fix.” Harry sniggered despite himself. For a man who had spent so long in Azkaban, Black certainly had a keen sense of humour. “Quite,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Well, now that little misunderstanding is all cleared up, we need to have a chat. You left the country in rather a hurry last time, Harry. There is important information that I have to impart on you. Information that will be difficult for you to hear, I’m afraid.” Harry nodded. He rather suspected he knew what was coming and decided to knock Dumbledore off his perch a little. “This wouldn’t relate to the Prophecy, would it? The one that says that I’ve got to be the one to kill Voldemort?” he asked. The room became totally silent. For the first time in his memory, Harry had the pleasure of seeing Albus Dumbledore totally lost for words. Interestingly, Sirius Black looked totally confused as well. Harry decided to wait and see how Black fitted into things before he related the Prophecy to him. “May I ask how you came to know the contents of the Prophecy, Harry? This is very sensitive information and would put anyone who knew it at great risk,” Dumbledore asked after he had managed to regain some composure. Harry suppressed a snarl. The old man had to get a dig in that it was wrong for anyone to know anything important apart from him, didn’t he? “Don’t worry, Professor. I was told about the Prophecy by Nicholas and Perenelle,” he said coolly. “As they are dead, your little secret is safe. Although, as the Prophecy relates to me directly, I reserve the right to tell whomever I feel is appropriate.” “I hope you will restrict that information, Harry,” Dumbledore bristled. “As I say, such knowledge would make the recipient a huge target.” “Only if it was known that they had knowledge of it,” Harry reasoned. “But as I say, if anyone has a right to decide who knows, it’s me.” Dumbledore was expressionless, but his eyes managed to convey his disapproval. As Harry had no desire for the conversation to end up in a blazing argument, he decided to change the subject. “So, can I ask what happens now? I have no particular desire to attend Hogwarts; I have all my qualifications, after all. I’m guessing as Sirius is here, your plans involve him?” Harry asked. “Actually, I suggested I come here today, Harry,” Black interrupted. “When Albus informed me of your imminent return, I rather expected that you would not wish to attend school here. Therefore, I would like to offer an alternative. Come and live at my house and let me help continue your training.” Harry blinked, somewhat surprised at the man’s offer. “No disrespect, Mr Black,” Harry began, “but I was raised by two of the most knowledgeable scholars in the world and have just spent a year under the tutelage of a master warrior. What could you teach me?” Black smirked. He had clearly been expected this question. “A few things, Harry. While I don’t pretend to be up to the standard of your previous teachers, before my imprisonment I did accumulate several years of experience in fighting Death Eaters. Can you say the same?” Black asked. Harry shook his head. He couldn’t really include his duel with Voldemort as experience. “If I do say myself, I rather think that I have an element of sneakiness that you will not have encountered in your training previously. I can help teach you to do the unexpected and to confuse your enemies. That could be a big help,” he continued. “Sneakiness?” Harry asked in disbelief. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Besides, I have other things I can teach you. Did you know that I’m an Animagus?” Harry became instantly attentive. He had toyed with the idea of becoming an Animagus but had never got very far in the process. Black noted the interest in Harry’s eyes. “Yes, Harry. I can help you become one, too. In addition, my house is large and has plenty of room for you to train in safety. Apart from me, there are others willing to help you. One of the greatest Aurors ever to serve says he will help with duelling, and my best friend, who was a Defence teacher here at Hogwarts for a spell, will help with whatever research projects you wish to pursue. I’m sure you can even convince Albus here to come over and give you the odd lesson,” Black grinned. Harry thought for a moment. In many ways this would be a perfect arrangement. Black seemed prepared to let Harry dictate how he trained, and it sounded like valuable help would be on hand. The lure of Animagus training was a big draw for him as well. Still, he didn’t know Black from Adam, and he had no idea if he could work with the man. Deciding he could always change things if the arrangement didn’t work, Harry gave his agreement. “Very well. I guess I’m coming to live with you then, Mr Black,” Harry confirmed. “Please, Harry. Call me Sirius. Mr Black was my father and trust me, you don’t want me to be anything like that bastard,” Sirius said. Although the man’s tone was light-hearted, Harry fancied he could detect real pain buried in Black’s voice. No doubt he would learn the reason for it at some point. “Excellent,” Dumbledore declared. “As Sirius suggested, Harry, I do have a number of things I need to tell you about. I would like, if I may, to set up a regular diary of lessons with you. These would be of a twofold nature: firstly to give you information about what you face and about your foe, Voldemort; secondly, I would also like to give more orthodox lessons to impart some of the not insignificant knowledge I have accumulated. This would cover a number of subjects: Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and such. But I believe it would all be immensely useful to you.” “I think that would be a good idea,” Harry agreed. He didn’t trust the Professor, but he did appreciate the vast knowledge the man had at his disposal. “Splendid. Well, why don’t you and Sirius head to his place of residence and get you settled in. I shall pop by tomorrow so we can work out the details,” Dumbledore smiled. Nodding, Harry stood and followed Black to the Floo. In the back of his mind he was worried if anything that so obviously pleased Albus Dumbledore could be a good idea. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Harry stepped from the Floo into a grim, dark kitchen. The room had an oppressive feel about it, and it almost invited shadowy thoughts to enter his head. Dominating the room was a long wooden table which at least looked fairly clean. Further back, the stove and food preparation surfaces all looked as if they hadn’t been touched in about twenty years. A number of metal pots hung from the wall and were all in such a condition that Harry dearly hoped they would never see use in food preparation again. “This is it, Harry, number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Home of the most ancient and noble house of Black, of which you have the pleasure of addressing the only remaining male descendant. No greater advertisement for male contraception could you possibly find,” Sirius grinned. “Well, what do you think?” Harry stared at him in disbelief. “I’ve just spent the last year living in a small wooden hut, and right now I’m feeling homesick for it. This place is filthy!” “Um, yes. Well, we do tend to eat out a lot, I must admit,” Sirius replied, looking embarrassed. “What a surprise,” said Harry, peering at the strange sludgy substance that lurked in the sink. “Have you only just moved in or something?” “Actually, I’ve been here six months,” Sirius admitted. “Some of the bedrooms are alright. To be honest, with one thing and another I haven’t had the time to do much around the house. There is meant to be a house-elf looking after the place, but the little git is worse than useless.” “Why? What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked. He had never heard of a useless house-elf before. “Oh, just wait until you meet him. Let’s just say his family loyalties don’t include me,” Sirius spat bitterly. “Okay, next question,” said Harry, who had just unwisely opened the fridge. He slammed the door shut again forcefully after viewing the contents. He hoped whatever the mess was that was in there wouldn’t try to escape and attack him. “What do you mean ‘we’?” As if to answer his question there was an enormous crash from outside the kitchen door. Harry could just make out a woman’s voice cursing before the door was flung open. “Miscreants! Blood-traitors! I hope you all rot, you vile scum! Get out of my house, you…” The door mercifully closed, cutting off the tirade. Before Harry stood two people. The first was a rather shabbily dressed man with greying hair and tired brown eyes. He gave off the impression of someone who had led a hard life while managing to retain his dignity. The second person was female. She had bright pink hair and dark, twinkling eyes. She wore a tight t-shirt and jeans which showed off her slim, athletic figure to good advantage. Harry realised he was staring at her and quickly looked away. “Harry, may I introduce your new house-mates,” announced Sirius. “On the left we have Remus Lupin, my best friend and, I may add, also a very good friend of your father’s. On the right, and no doubt responsible for that cacophony we just heard, my cousin Tonks. I will reveal her first-name to you later, when she’s not around, but I strongly advise you not to ever use it. Remus, Tonks, may I present my long-lost godson, Harry Potter.” Harry raised his hand in greeting, still trying to avoid looking directly at Tonk’s chest. “Who was making all that noise outside?” he asked. “Ah, that was the portrait of Sirius’s mother, Walburga Black,” explained Tonks in an apologetic tone. “She’s not what you would call a welcoming sort. I’m afraid I woke her up when I tripped coming down the stairs.” “Amazing woman, Tonks,” Sirius laughed. “One of the youngest Aurors they have ever had, she’s a metamorphmagus and one of the best duellists I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, she’s the clumsiest person you could ever hope to meet and regularly trips over her own feet.” “Oi!” Tonks protested as the two men started laughing. “I’m pleased to meet you, Harry,” Remus said after he had stopped laughing. “I don’t know if Sirius mentioned it, but I used to teach at Hogwarts; and I’d be happy to offer my services to you in any capacity you may need. There is a rather useful library here, if you should need it, and a couple of rooms given over to training.” “Yes, Sirius did say,” smiled Harry. He instantly took a liking to Lupin and his helpful attitude. “I’m sure we can find something useful. I’ve completed my NEWTS so I’ll require tutoring beyond that standard.” “Wow. Finished your NEWTS already? How old are you?” Tonks asked. “Err, I turn sixteen at the end of the month,” Harry said, suddenly embarrassed. He mentally slapped himself. Tonks was practically the first girl he had seen in nearly a year and he was mortified at the reaction he was having to her. He hoped the effect wore off quickly. “Impressive,” Remus said, smiling. “I’m pretty sure I can find plenty of useful things for you to study that you haven’t covered yet. Education is, after all, a journey not a destination.” “Boring!” yelled Sirius. “Right, after all that talking I need a cuppa. Kreacher!” After a noticeable delay, a small, ancient House-Elf hobbled into the kitchen, muttering to itself. Only when he came closer could Harry make out what he was saying. “Oh, the shame of it. Not only is my poor Mistress's house turned over to blood traitors and werewolves, now my worthless Master brings a Half-blood brat in as well. My poor Mistress!” the Elf grumbled in a voice not unlike that of a bullfrog. One thing Kreacher said immediately rang alarm bells. “Werewolf?” Harry asked. “Why would there be a werewolf in the house?” There was some uncomfortable shuffling among the three adults. “I’m afraid you’re looking at the werewolf, Harry,” Lupin admitted quietly. Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Really? You’re a werewolf? I mean, um, sorry. I’ve never met one before and you’re not quite what I expected,” Harry admitted. Tonks grinned. “No, he isn’t, is he?” she laughed. “Trust me, Harry. Forget all that rubbish you’ve probably heard about werewolves. You couldn’t meet a nicer, kinder, more educated man than Remus here.” Harry couldn’t help but notice the way the young woman’s eyes shined when she talked about the older man. Something was going on there, he’d bet. “Master called for Kreacher?” the Elf interrupted rudely. “Just put the kettle on, you useless beast,” Sirius snarled. The Elf moved towards the sink moving extremely slowly and muttering to itself all the way. “Oh, forget it!” Sirius cried. In three steps he had overtaken the Elf. He grabbed the kettle and filled it with water from the sink himself, before putting it on the stove to boil. He turned to Harry. “I’m sure you can begin to see why we have something of a hygiene problem in the house. Kreacher here is somewhat disappointed that I’ve taken over the family home and feels it’s his duty to be as unhelpful as possible. In addition to that, the house is full of dark objects and trinkets, most of which are trapped and, ta-da! We have the perfect residence! Merlin, I hate this place!” he spat. Harry looked at Kreacher with mixed emotions. His experience with house-elves had been so different he couldn’t believe Kreacher hadn’t been forced to act in this manner. Maybe he was just old and needed some help? Harry grinned at the thought. “Sirius, clearly Kreacher here can’t clean this house all by himself. What do you say I summon up a bit of help for him?” he asked. “Feel free, Harry. Anything would be better than relying on this little sneak,” Sirius replied. “Misty! Bolly! Are you there?” Harry called. A second later there were two pops as the Elves arrived. Misty took one look at Harry and threw herself at him. “Master Harry! You’s is being back! I’s missed you so much!” The little Elf was crying with joy as she wrapped herself around Harry’s leg. Harry just smiled and reached down to hug her. “And I missed you too, Misty. How have you been? And you as well, Bolly. It’s really good to see the both of you,” Harry grinned. “It’s so good to see you again, Master Harry,” Bolly said enthusiastically. “We’s been keeping the old Master and Mistress’s house clean and secure, but it has been rather boring without you.” “Well, I’m back now,” Harry confirmed. “I’m going to be living here for a while. I just wondered if you two would like to stay here as well, or would you be happier staying in Cornwall?” The two Elves looked at each other in horror. “Master Harry is living here?” Misty squeaked. “In this nasty, dark, dirty place? Oh, no. We’s can’t allow that! We’s coming here too and clean the place up. Nasty magics are here too, I’s can feel it. Leave it to’s us, Master Harry! We’s make this a nice place in a jiffy!” “Okay, I’m glad to have you both here,” Harry told them. “But don’t go mad. We’ve got plenty of time so don’t feel like everything has to be done immediately. Make sure you only work your normal hours. And if you do find anything you’re not sure about, don’t try and tackle it by yourselves, got it?” “Absolutely, Master Harry!” cried Bolly, who looked like he couldn’t wait to start work. “Who is being this one?” Misty asked, pointing at Kreacher. The old Elf just scowled. “I is being Kreacher, and I have served the noble house of Black well since before you were born!” he snapped. “But this place is being filthy!” Misty protested. “Is you ill? Can’t you work anymore?” “Why should I’s work for blood traitors and scum?” Kreacher snarled. “Now’s this half-blood brat is here too…” Kreacher never finished the sentence as both Bolly and Misty launched themselves at him. Misty had the old Elf by the throat and Bolly was punching him in the stomach. “Stop!” Harry yelled. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” “He deserves to die, Master Harry!” Bolly yelled, glaring at the old Elf who was now laying on the floor clutching his throat. “When an elf turns on his master like this, it is being a great disgrace! Death would be better!” “No, just leave him be,” Harry replied. “I don’t know what happened to make him like this, but I’m sure there’s a reason. Kreacher is old and tired. Just let him rest and as long as he does nothing to endanger anyone in this house, then just let him be.” “Umph,” muttered Misty, in what was a very un-elf like gesture. She stomped over to where Kreacher was laying. “You hears that? Master Harry is the bestest master in the whole world. He even is nice to Kreacher when’s he doesn’t deserve it! But listen you’s and listen good; if you ever do anything bad to Master Harry or any of his friends Misty will kill you! You understands?” Kreacher looked up at the small Elf in amazement and slowly nodded his head. He then turned and looked at Harry quizzically. “Well, that’s a sight you don’t see every day. Your elves must really think highly of you, Harry,” Sirius said, surprise clear in his voice. “And I think highly of them,” Harry replied, before turning back to Kreacher. “And what they said goes for me too. I’m willing to give you a fair chance, Kreacher. Play fair by me and I’ll do the same for you. But if you do anything to hurt anyone, especially Misty and Bolly, then you will regret it, clear?” Again Kreacher nodded without saying a word. “Fair enough. Right, who wants that cup of tea?” Harry asked, moving towards the now boiled kettle. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Harry woke with a start. For a second he had no idea where he was and panicked slightly. Then he remembered and sank his head back onto the pillow. It was pitch black in the bedroom with not a chink of light anywhere. He had hoped he would sleep well after the long and tiring day, but he was restless and uneasy. After the confrontation with Kreacher, Misty and Bolly had thrown themselves into starting to make Grimmauld Place habitable. Sirius had briefed them on what could be thrown out (which seemed to be pretty much everything) and the elves had got to work. By the time they stopped to make dinner at five o’clock, a huge pile of rubbish had been accumulated for removal. Sirius could barely contain his delight and praised the two elves so extravagantly they both turned pink with embarrassment. The evening had been spent around the kitchen table with Sirius and Remus telling Harry stories about his parents. As he knew so little about them, this had proved an interesting and heart-warming experience. By the time it was time for bed, Harry had a vivid picture of his parents. His father had been a care-free if rather irresponsible young man until he fell for Harry’s mother and realised that he had to change if he ever stood a chance of winning her heart. His mother had been a warm and generous person, but was strong-willed when required. When the two had finally got together, they had proved a perfect match; James teaching Lily to relax and enjoy herself more, while Lily taught James responsibility and compassion. Harry heard dozens of stories about them, and he got the impression Sirius and Remus had barely scratched their stockpile of tales. He’d gone to bed immersed in thoughts of his parents. His vision of his mother he’d seen in Japan filled his head and was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him. If he had hoped this would give him a night of pleasant dreams he was sadly disappointed. The nightmares had begun almost as soon as he had closed his eyes. Breathing deeply he realised that his scar was hurting, and that the little piece of memory that Voldemort had left behind in his head was fighting to get out. Quickly, he reinforced his Occlumency shields and let out a sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away. His scar had not felt like that for ages, not since that terrible night in the graveyard when he had seen Voldemort reborn. He briefly wondered why he should be so troubled tonight. It was this house, he decided. This house had evil soaked into its very foundations. Every brick held a memory of terrible deeds and every room recalled suffering. If he stuck out his tongue he could almost taste the blood that had been spilt here in the vilest of ceremonies. The house was also full of ghosts. Not the sentient, remorseful ghosts that witches and wizards encountered everyday, but malevolent, hateful spirits that lurked in the dark corners and fed on pain and suffering. These malign apparitions called to him, begging for blood and anguish and urging him to embrace insanity. This truly was a house of horrors. Harry laid back, staring blindly into the dark. Earlier he had heard Sirius say that he hated this place. He now understood why. Try as he might, sleep would not return. |
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