I forgot to mention previously that pairings and character deaths will be as per canon – mostly. Ah, there’s my get out of gaol free card! I do reserve the right to kill off the odd character as and when I see fit. Oh, the power! Bwehahahah! Thanks as always to Tom (MinistryMalcontent) for his Beta work.
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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: 199413; Chapter Total: 9615 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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The second he awoke up Harry knew something was wrong. Something felt different, and it took him several moments to figure out what. Then it occurred to him; he was comfortable. He was laying on a proper mattress with no lumps in it. It was large enough that he could stretch his admittedly small body as wide as he could and he still had room. He was also tucked under a set of crisp, white sheets with several warm blankets covering him. Finally, he was wearing a set of clean, comfortable pyjamas; something he was pretty sure he had never owned before. Cracking his eyes open, he found he could see very little. He appeared to be in a large room and guessed that it might be a hospital. Had he finally been injured sufficiently badly that his aunt and uncle had been forced to seek medical help for him? Suddenly, a blurry figure swam into his vision. “Oh good, you’re awake. Do you want your glasses?” a female voice asked. “Yes, please,” Harry replied. He then felt his glasses being carefully placed on him and the room came into focus. In fact, things became a little clearer than normal. “There you go,” the woman said. Looking at her Harry realised she was dressed in a nurse's uniform, confirming that he must be in hospital. “Really, those glasses are completely wrong for you. I’ve tried to alter them, but you do need to see a proper optician as soon as possible,” the nurse said. Harry doubted his uncle would ever allow for such a thing, and he certainly wouldn’t pay for new glasses. He decided to change the subject. “Excuse me, but what happened? How did I end up in hospital?” he asked as politely as he could. “Someone’s coming to see you in a second, Harry, and he will explain everything better than I could,” she promised. The nurse then gently stroked his forehead with her soft hand while giving him an encouraging smile. Harry blinked. He couldn’t remember anyone ever touching him so affectionately before. For a second he felt his eyes water and, for the first time that he could remember, he had the desire for someone to scoop him up into her arms and hug him. The realisation of what he wanted produced a wave of shame within him. As his uncle was fond of telling him, he was a freak and didn’t deserve anything good happening to him. He lay back and forced himself not to cry. Crying only brought more beatings. It was some time before the promised visitor arrived, and Harry had nearly fallen asleep again. Sensing someone near, Harry turned his head and found himself looking at the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. He was tall and obviously very old, judging by his long white beard. Oddly, he was wearing something that looked like a long blue dress with silver moons and stars on it. He looked at Harry with twinkling eyes peering over his half-moon glasses. Although he was smiling warmly at him, for some reason Harry felt a sense of unease. This man looked friendly, but what did he want with him? Why had he been taken to this place? What weren’t they telling him? “Hello, Harry. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Professor Dumbledore,” the man said. Harry was at a loss for something to say. He had the feeling that one wrong word would have him sent back to his aunt and uncle in a second, and he was enjoying the comfy bed. Seeing no answer was coming, the man continued. “Firstly, let me tell you that you are safe. You are currently being looked after in the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You had rather a large burst of accidental magic, my young friend,” the man smiled. Witches? Wizards? What was the man talking about? Was he trying to trick him somehow? Admittedly, he was dressed exactly like Harry would imagine a wizard would dress, but this was all make-believe, wasn’t it? Magic didn’t exist; his uncle and aunt had told him that enough times in the past. Yet something had happened to him. He vaguely remembered dropping a plate in the kitchen and feeling fear as his uncle approached him. His uncle had hit him, he remembered…then pain. Fear and pain was all he could recall, although he did have a strange image of Uncle Vernon flying backwards through the air and hitting the far wall. Suddenly, it came to him. He’d done one of those freaky things he had always been warned about. He’d done it again! He would be in so much trouble! Oh, his uncle would beat him black and blue for this. Harry started to panic. “It’s alright, Harry,” assured the Professor. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It was all an accident, nothing more. You will not be punished.” “But, I did freaky stuff again,” Harry blurted in fear. “Uncle Vernon said he would beat me if I did anything unnatural again!” The old man smiled. “What you did was perfectly natural, Harry. After all, you are a wizard. Performing magic is perfectly normal for a wizard,” the professor assured him. Harry shook his head. A wizard? What was this barmy old man talking about? The man seemed to understand his doubt. “Tell me, Harry, have strange things ever happened around you? Objects moved by themselves? Things changed suddenly without any explanation?” Harry could only nod, remembering when his teacher’s hair had turned blue for no apparent reason. Objects frequently moved or rattled when he was around them. Once, he had even found himself on the roof of the school after Dudley’s gang had been chasing him, with no idea how he had got up there. But these things happened because he was a freak. Vernon had told him this repeatedly. “I never meant to do those things…” Harry began. “It’s alright,” Dumbledore assured him. “Every young wizard does similar things before they gain control of their magic.” “But…how can I possibly be a wizard?” Harry asked. “Well, it doesn’t always work this way, but your mother was a witch and your father was a wizard. Both rather good ones, actually,” Dumbledore explained. Harry was stunned. “My mother was a witch? Riding a broomstick with a big pointed hat?” he asked in awe. “Well, it was your father who preferred riding broomsticks, and I don’t recall your mother wearing a hat very often. She had beautiful long, red hair and it would have been a shame to hide it.” “You knew my parents?” Harry asked. “Very well,” Dumbledore replied, “and two finer people you could not hope to meet.” A thought occurred to Harry. “Then they lied!” he exclaimed. “My uncle and my aunt, they said my parents were drunken layabouts that died in a car crash! They lied to me!” This time Harry was unable to stop the tears. Dumbledore reached over and gently patted him on the arm. “Your parents were wonderful people who loved you very much. They were killed by an evil wizard who was responsible for giving you that scar on your forehead. They died to protect you, Harry. Possibly, your aunt may have thought the truth was too hard for you to hear,” Dumbledore suggested kindly. “They hated my parents!” Harry yelled in between sobs. “Why would they say they were drunkards? They said it was their own fault they died! That they lost control of the car when they were drunk. Why did they say that?” Unable to take any more, Harry buried his head in his hands and cried his eyes out. Harry was not sure how long he cried, but when he finally did stop he found the old wizard still sat by his bed. “Sorry,” Harry muttered, while wiping his nose on his pyjama sleeve. “Not at all, Harry,” the Professor said quietly. “It’s always best to let these things out. A good cry has done me the power of good many times in the past. It’s certainly nothing to be sorry about.” Harry nodded, but kept his eyes cast downwards. “In fact,” Dumbledore continued, “it is I who owe you an apology. I must confess, Harry, that following the death of your parents, it was I who suggested that you go to live with your aunt and uncle. They were your last remaining relatives, and I never imagined in a million years that they would treat you so badly.” Harry’s head snapped up. This man was responsible for him having to live with the Dursleys? Anger suddenly welled up in him, and he had the urge to strike out at the old man. He was vaguely aware that the glass of water sat on the table next to his bed had started to vibrate. Dumbledore looked at the glass with alarm. “Calm yourself, Harry, please. I’m sorry you had such a wretched time, but think what choices I had at the time. The Dursleys were your only living relatives. If I did not place you with them, the only other choice was an orphanage. I desperately didn’t want you to have to be put in such an institution.” “I would have been better off in a home,” Harry shouted, but he could feel his rage dropping away. Faced with having to put him in a children’s home or with family members what choice did this man have? He wasn’t to know what his aunt and uncle were like, was he? But it did raise a very important question. His anger replaced by fear, he quietly asked, “do I have to go back to the Dursleys?” “No, Harry, I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” the professor said. “So, I’ll be going to an orphanage when I’m all better then?” he asked. Strangely, he wasn’t too concerned. Anything had to be an improvement on what he had left. “Actually, I think we can do something a little better than that,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I have spoken to some good friends of mine called Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. They live in a large house by the sea, and they have told me that they would very much like it if you come and live with them.” Harry blinked. Someone wanted to take him in? But what would happen when they discovered he had freakish things happen to him? The old man continued as if he had read Harry’s mind. “Nicholas and Perenelle are both magical. They are also very fine teachers and will help you control your magic. They’ll teach you how to use it properly. As soon as I told them about you they wanted to help. Just think, Harry. If you learn how to control your magic, you’ll never had another accident that no-one can explain again. You will be able to keep a tight rein on your power and only use it when you wish to. No one will ever call you a freak again.” Hope began to swell in Harry’s chest. He could learn to control these things? These people wanted to help him? Doubts began to creep into his mind, however. “What if they don’t like me? I can’t pay them anything, either. My uncle always said I was a sponger living off his generosity. These people don’t even know me. Why should they have to pay to look after me?” he said in a broken voice. “Hush, Harry. Firstly, you do actually have some money. Your parents put some funds aside for your education, so if necessary you can pay your way. However, Nicholas and Perenelle are very rich and they really don’t need your money. Even if they weren’t, they are not the types to turn away a child in need. Perenelle, in particular, can’t wait to meet you.” Harry smiled. “They live by the sea? I’ve never seen the sea,” he said wistfully. “Hopefully you’ll be well enough to visit them tomorrow,” said Dumbledore, happy at the look of anticipation that had come into the boy's eyes. Sunday, 14 October 1990 Harry staggered and nearly fell over. When the Professor had informed him that they would be travelling to the Flamel’s house, he had assumed that they would be driving or maybe taking a train. When the Professor had just grabbed his hand and told him to brace himself, the last thing he had expected was to be suddenly squeezed hard enough to make him think his insides would explode out the top of his head, before being deposited with a thump on the ground. Nothing, however, compared with the shock of suddenly finding himself somewhere completely different from where he had been a few seconds before. Standing somewhat tenderly, he turned in a complete circle, taking in his surroundings. He found himself in a well-tended garden that was enclosed by neatly trimmed hedges. Beyond the end of the garden, he could see the whole horizon filled with the sea, glittering in the sun. He couldn’t help but smile in happiness at the sight, the first time he had ever seen the sea. It was wonderful, he thought. His mind filled with images of golden beaches, rock pools and jagged cliff faces. He desperately hoped that he would be allowed to go down to the sea front later on. Turning, he viewed the Flamel’s house. It was a large white-washed building with a grey-slate roof and sturdy looking wooden doors. Although only two stories, it looked massive in comparison with the Dursley’s house. Harry was suddenly filled with hope that there might be room for him to stay within the large dwelling. He felt a gentle pressure on his back as Dumbledore guided him towards the back door of the house. Once they stood in front of the dark wood door, the Professor knocked loudly to announce their presence. After a brief pause the door opened, and Harry had his first sight of Nicholas Flamel. The man initially confused Harry. He appeared middle-aged with a thick brown beard and largely unlined face, but there was something about his eyes that spoke of immense age and experience. Harry shuddered as those eyes seemed to look straight through him. For a second the man held Harry’s gaze before he broke into a bright smile. “Hello there,” he greeted him in a quiet but intense voice. “You must be Harry. I’ve heard a lot about you, young man. Come in. Come in and welcome.” Encouraged by this warm greeting, Harry entered the house and found himself in a large kitchen which was dominated by a huge oak dining table. The whole room was immaculate and featured a long, spotless work surface running the length of the far wall, with shining copper pans hanging above it. A massive cooker was situated to the left, and the remaining room was taken up with cupboards and shelves. Harry gulped. Was he going to be expected to cook and clean here? It would take him all day to clean a kitchen this size, and this was only one room in the house. His visions of playing by the sea vanished and were replaced by the realisation he would be working very long hours to keep this house clean. Would he have to cook as well? He had no idea how to work the strange looking cooker which seemed to lack all of the normal controls that his Aunt’s gas cooker had. His shoulders sank. Just as his spirits started to sink, his attention was captured by a woman entering the kitchen. He brown hair was flecked with grey and was currently tied up in a tight bun on top of her head. She was tall and regal looking, but had a gentle smile on her lips. Again, Harry was struck by the odd feeling that her eyes conveyed great age not reflected in the rest of her appearance. This, he assumed, was Perenelle Flamel. He just hoped she wouldn’t beat him as much as his aunt had done. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP On hearing the knock at the back door, Perenelle Flamel hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. She had been on tenterhooks all morning waiting for Harry’s arrival, but she couldn’t even begin to explain why she was so apprehensive. Perenelle had never had children and had never had any really strong desire to have them either. Her life had been dedicated to research and education. Children would just have been a distraction. But ever since she had learnt about the Potter boy, she had been filled with a sense of yearning. A desire to take the boy in and care for him. Maybe it was just that now as she was rapidly approaching the end of her long life, maternal instincts were surfacing; and this would be the perfect opportunity to fulfil those urges. Entering the kitchen her eyes were instantly drawn to the boy, and she felt her heart miss a beat. Poor Harry looked totally lost, and she could see the misery in his eyes. She had been warned that he was small for his age, but she could barely believe this was a ten year-old boy. He was so skinny that the pathetic rags he wore looked like a tent on him. He looked at her through oversized round glasses held together by pieces of tape. Overall, he looked pitiful. Yet the boy’s steady gaze held no malice or self-pity. Instead, there was a resigned acceptance of his fate which brought tears to her eyes. He had a mass of unruly jet black hair which was impossibly cute, and those bright green eyes of his were breathtaking. He was going to be a heart-breaker when he grew up, she thought. And in that first glance, Perenelle knew without a doubt that this poor boy had just captured her heart; and she would do everything she could for him. Crossing the room, she knelt before Harry and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She was appalled to see him flinch when she reached out to him, as if he expected to be hit. Those Muggles he lived with had better pray to whatever god they worshipped that they never crossed her path, she thought. “Hello, Harry. My name is Perenelle, although most people call me Perry for short. My husband Nicholas, we just call him Nick normally, and I have been told all about you. We understand you need somewhere to live. Would you like to come and live with us?” she asked as gently as she could. The boy looked rather uncertain. “It’s a very big house,” he said nervously. “Would I have to clean it all by myself?” “What?” Perenelle blurted in shock. “I mean, I’m sure I could, but it might take me a while. And I don’t know how your cooker works, so I would have to be shown. Is it just the two of you I would have to cook for, or do you have any sons or daughters of your own?” he asked. For a second Perry was stunned. The boy thought he had been brought here so he could cook and clean for them? She looked up accusingly at Dumbledore who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m afraid Harry’s aunt and uncle treated him as little more than a slave. I gather he was responsible for nearly all the household chores and was often refused food if he didn’t complete them to their liking,” Dumbledore explained. A look of outrage appeared on Nicholas’s face, and Perry felt a hot burst of hatred for these faceless Muggles. How could anyone be so cruel, especially to their own nephew? Forcing down her anger, she faced the trembling boy again. “Harry, I promise that we didn’t ask for you to come here just so you could cook and clean for us. You’re just a little boy and you shouldn’t be expected to do all that. Besides, we have house elves that look after us,” she explained. The boy just looked confused at this, and Perry realised he must never have seen an elf before. She called out, “Misty. Bolly. Could you come in here for a second?” There was a pop as the two elves appeared in the Kitchen. Harry gave a screech and leapt behind Perry in fear. The elves just looked shocked by his reaction. “Harry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’d like you to meet Misty and Bolly. They’re house elves and they look after us. They do all the chores for us here using magic. Come and say hello.” Nervously, the young boy emerged from behind her and approached the elves as if they would attack him any second. Misty looked up at Perry in confusion at the boy's reaction. Perry just smiled and nodded at Harry encouragingly. Misty stepped forward. “Hello, Master Harry. I am being Misty and I is very pleased to meet you. If you needs anything just calls my name and I’ll come,” she said politely. Gathering his courage, Harry edged forward until he was a few feet away from the little elf. Cautiously, he offered his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you too, Misty,” he said. Misty just stared in horror at his outstretched hand. “Misty, I think it would be good manners if you shook Harry’s hand,” Perry said quietly. The elf looked like her eyes would pop out of her head at this suggestion but did as she was told. Warily, she reached out and took Harry’s hand and gently shook it. Shyly, she smiled at the boy who, seeing she was as nervous as he was, smiled back. Perry fought back her own grin. She had the feeling Misty would do anything for the boy now. Releasing Misty’s hand, Harry then turned to Bolly and greeted him in a similar manner. He seemed equally stunned by this action, but followed Misty’s example and shook hands. “See, Harry, you won’t be expected to do chores all day,” Perry said, gaining the boy’s attention again. “But you will have lots to do. You have immense magical power, and you need to learn how to use it. Nick and I would like to teach you how to control that power and help you become a great wizard. Would you like that, Harry?” she asked. A look of hope came onto the boy’s face. “You’ll help me so I don’t accidently hurt people with my…magic,” he asked. He used the word magic tentatively, like he couldn’t quite believe it could apply to him. “Yes, we will,” said Nick, jumping into the conversation. “The magical world is full of wonders, Harry. You can’t imagine some of the things we can teach you. By the time we’ve finished with you, you’ll be able to cast fabulous spells and charms. You’ll know all about fantastic magical creatures. Did you know dragons really exist, for instance?” Harry looked up with wide-eyed astonishment and shook his head. “That’s just one example, my boy. There’s a whole world of wonder out there, and we can teach you all about it. Would you like that?” “Yes, please!” Harry exclaimed. Perry nearly burst with happiness at Harry's enthusiasm. “Misty, why don’t you show Harry where his bedroom will be and get him settled in? Then bring him back down and we’ll have some lunch,” she suggested. Misty bounced forward and, a little surprisingly, took Harry’s hand and led him from the kitchen. The boy favoured them with a warm smile as he went out the door. She heard Dumbledore chuckle behind her. “Well, I think I’ve brought Harry to the right place,” the old wizard smiled. “It looks like you will have a very keen student judging by his reaction.” “Maybe, but you were right in saying that his body is struggling to contain his magic. I could feel it seeping out of every pore on the poor lad. Building up his strength and helping him grow must be our absolute first priority,” Nick said. Perry nodded in agreement. “He has the potential to be an incredible wizard,” she agreed. “I have the strengthening potion already brewed, and the growth potion will be ready tomorrow. Fortunately, I was able to find a good supply of Tigerweed, so I was able to produce a good quantity. By the time I’ve finished giving him the course of treatment, he’ll be tall and strong. I think I’ll also produce a batch of eye correction potion as well. It’s pretty clear his eyesight is terrible, and besides, it would be a shame to hide those beautiful green eyes behind glasses.” Both men laughed. “I think young Harry’s already won over Perenelle,” Nicholas grinned. “He deserves to have some good things happen to him,” she scolded her husband. “After the life he has led, he should be given all the help we can provide.” “I quite agree,” Nick nodded. “Leave Harry with us, Albus. We’ll take good care of him. I promise we’ll send you regular updates on his progress as agreed.” With a contented smile Dumbledore left the house, certain he had picked the right people to look after Harry. After all, much would depend on the boy in later life. Saturday, 20 October 1990 Tucked up in his warm, soft bed, Harry thought back to his first week was Flamels. It had been, in many different ways, totally amazing. What had made the deepest impression on him, rather than then the strange magical creatures or the unbelievable magic spells, was simply how kind the Flamels had been to him. He was still stunned that he had his own room which was bigger than Dudley’s had been. The best thing about it was that it had a window which faced the sea. During his first night at the house, he had sat by the open window as the sun went down and watched the stars slowly appear. He thought it was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Later, Perry had come into the room to check he was alright and had told him the names of some of the stars, with the promise to teach him more another day. Perry had to be the kindest woman in the world, he thought. Ever since that first night she had made a habit of visiting him before he turned in and talking through the day with him. She always made sure he had enough to eat and never hit him. Nick was great too. He had started giving Harry lessons on controlling magic and had begun by explaining how it worked. Apparently, in the next week or so, he was going to be given a magic wand! Once he had that he would be able to start casting spells himself and he couldn’t wait. Nick had done some incredible things with his wand which had made Harry’s jaw drop. To think he could do similar magic himself excited him beyond belief. The worst thing he’d had to do was take a load of foul tasting medicines. Perry had told him that because the Dursleys had fed him so little he had to take these potions to make him bigger and stronger. Harry had always been much smaller than other children his age and so welcomed anything which would make him grow. He just wished it didn’t have to taste so bad. The elves were brilliant as well, especially Misty. He’d watched her clean his room with just a few waves of her hand and had wished he could have done that when he had been at the Dursleys. Not that his uncle or aunt would have let him. They had both made clear how much they hated magic, and Harry now suspected he knew why. His aunt must have been bitterly jealous of his mum if she could do magic and Petunia couldn’t. That’s why they wouldn’t let him do magic, he bet. Harry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but in truth he was too excited. Perry had promised that tomorrow they would go down to the beach for the first time, although they would have to hide the scar on his forehead for some reason. He wasn’t allowed to be called Potter either. Whenever he went out now he was to be known as Harry Burns, and he was to tell anyone who asked that Nick and Perry were his grandparents. Not that he was worried about that; he wished that they really were his grandparents. Still, he was happy to pretend. Suddenly, he had so much to look forward to that it took his breath. Soon he would get a magic wand, he was to be taught the names of more stars, and he had even been told that he would get to fly on a broom! Slowly he drifted off to sleep, imagining what other wonders he was going to see. |
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