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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: 199415; Chapter Total: 8036 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Warning! Angst-fest ahead. Please ensure that you have a box of tissues handy. Few more comments at the bottom. |
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Saturday, 1 July 1995 Harry sat in the kitchen slowly eating the lunch Misty had made for him, but his appetite was nearly non-existent. Since returned from the graveyard, Nicholas had been at Perenelle’s bedside constantly. Harry had also spent some hours watching over her unmoving form, but he couldn’t stand seeing the anguish on his grandfather’s face. Instead, he had wandered from room to room, waiting for news that Perry had woken up. Nicholas had insisted that his wife getting so much rest was a good thing, but Harry had only to take one look at the man’s eyes to know he was lying. Rather than eating his sandwich, Harry contented himself with pulling the crust off the bread while his mind endlessly regurgitated the events of last Thursday. He felt responsible. Wasn’t he supposed to be an incredibly powerful wizard, skilled in magical duelling and Muggle martial arts? He had been tricked into taking the Portkey with almost ridiculous ease, then allowed himself to be disarmed and tied-up without resistance. If it wasn’t for the freak coincidence of him owning the brother wand to Voldemort’s, he was certain he would now be dead. It was his failure to look after himself that had resulted in Perry having to come and rescue him. Because of him she was laying in bed upstairs gravely hurt. The sound of her screams as she was hit by Voldemort’s curse echoed through his mind, making him want to pull his hair out and weep. He had never felt so wretched in his life. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs roused Harry from his gloom. He looked up as Nicholas entered the kitchen. “Is there any news? Is she awake yet?” he asked urgently. “She’s asleep at present,” Nicholas informed him, “but she did open her eyes briefly earlier.” “Thank Merlin,” Harry breathed, not noticing the sad look on Nicholas’s face. The old wizard sat down slowly at the kitchen table and poured himself a cup of tea. “Harry, we have to talk,” he said reluctantly. “Why? Perry’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” Harry asked, his earlier anxiety returning instantly. Nicholas regarded him silently for a while. “No, Harry, I don’t think she will be,” he said slowly. “But…Dumbledore said that most people recovered from the Cruciatus curse after a while. Perry wasn’t under for that long!” Harry protested with tears in his eyes. Nicholas just placed his hand on the boy's arm to silence him. He then looked him straight in the eye. “Harry, it’s not just about the curse Perenelle was subjected to. We explained to you a while ago that we felt that we didn’t have long left to us on this mortal plane, but that we had enough elixir to last us for several years, didn’t we?” “Yes, you said you’d be around for a long time yet,” Harry confirmed, not liking where the conversation was going at all. “That’s quite true. But what we hadn’t anticipated was the effect that a stressful incident like we just experienced would have. Perry expended an enormous amount of magical energy when she fought Voldemort, and the curse put a tremendous strain on her body. It has…hastened the end, shall we say,” Nicholas explained quietly. “You mean that by trying to save me Perry killed herself?” Harry asked in a distraught voice. “Right, you can stop that immediately, young man!” Nicholas snapped. “This is not your fault. If anything, it’s her own fault as she insisted on going after you by herself, while I went to Dumbledore for help. But I can’t even criticise her for that, as you may well be dead if she hadn’t reacted so quickly.” “But if I hadn’t been stupid enough to be captured…” Harry began. “Exactly how is that your fault? Were you supposed to avoid touching anything in case it was a Portkey? Avoid talking to anyone in case they were a Death Eater in disguise? No, Harry, there was no way you could have known. Voldemort was the one who abducted you, and he was the one who attacked Perry. He’s the one to blame. Maybe it’s my fault in part, too. I suspected Dumbledore knew something when he wanted you to go to Hogwarts in September, but I didn’t push the issue,” Nick pondered. “If Dumbledore knew something was up, why didn’t he say or do something about it?” Harry asked bitterly. “Now, this is all speculation on my part, although it does seem a remarkable coincidence. Unfortunately, I learnt in recent years that trying to pry information from Albus Dumbledore is an exercise in futility. I rather suspect he has guessed that his Occlumency shields are of little use against me, and he either avoids eye contact or removes important memories for storage before meeting me. But this does lead me onto the subject I wanted to talk with you about: what happens to you when we’re gone,” Nick said solemnly. “When we’re gone?” repeated Harry. “What do you mean?” Nicholas sighed. “Harry, Perenelle and I have been bonded together for hundreds of years. When she passes on, I will rapidly follow.” “You mean... I’m going to lose you both?” Harry asked, tears falling freely now. “I’m sorry, my boy, but this isn’t something we have a choice in. Even if the incident with Voldemort hadn’t happened, we could feel our time was growing near. Neither of us fears death, but we are devastated to be leaving you.” Tears began to fall down Nicholas’s face as well. “I always thought that I’d achieved everything I wanted to do in life and I know Perry felt the same, but we were wrong. We never thought of having children, always thought they would just get in the way, you know. But you showed us how wrong we were. If I could have had a son half as wonderful as you, Harry, I would have been so happy. But you were the son we never had, and we both love you.” Harry looked up into Nicholas’s eyes and saw the truth of his words. He also saw the desperate fear there and knew it wasn’t about his impending death that Nicholas was worried; it was about him. In that instant, Harry resolved to be strong for his adopted grandparents, to show them that he would be alright once they had gone. He wiped away his tears and sat up straight. “You’ve both taught me so much, Nick,” Harry said. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to take me in. I love you both too. What do you want me to do?” Nicholas looked up and Harry could see the relief on his face. “You’re such a good lad, Harry.” Nicholas followed Harry’s example and wiped his tears away. He reached over and dropped a small folder on the table in front of Harry. “Dumbledore wants you to go to Hogwarts in September, but I disagree. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and the events of the last few days have convinced me I’m right. What you would learn at Hogwarts isn’t what you need right now. You need something different.” Nicholas opened the folder and removed several pieces of parchment and a small ring. He held the ring up. “This, Harry, is a Portkey. I get the feeling Dumbledore may object to my plans for your continued education and may intervene. I want you to wear this from now on and activate it when you’re ready.” “So where will this take me?” Harry asked taking the ring. “It will take you to a small island just off the coast of Japan. There is a small school there run by a friend of mine named Hiroshi Tamazuki. I met Hiroshi years ago when Perry and I were travelling the world. He is a great teacher and will instruct you in things that I cannot,” Nicholas said as he smiled encouragingly. “What sort of things can this Hiroshi Tamazuki teach me that you can’t?” Harry asked, interested despite himself. “Hiroshi Tamazuki has many skills, but foremost is his skill as a warrior. He is a fearsome magical duellist, but also an expert in Muggle fighting techniques.” Nicholas grinned at him. “Actually, it was your love of Taekwondo that made me think to send you to him. He knows many martial arts and is unrivalled with a sword. He can do what I cannot, Harry. He can teach you to fight!” Harry nodded. This was definitely what he needed. He was determined that if he ever had to face Voldemort again, he would put up a far better performance than he had this time. “Tamazuki’s methods are unusual, Harry. He is heavily into eastern mysticism, and you will be taught meditation as well as combat. He is a great believer in his pupils being at peace with themselves, which it not always an easy thing to achieve, believe me. But there is nothing the man doesn’t know about the mind of a wizard, and he will make the Occlumency and Legilimency I taught you look crude and childish by comparison. This will be a great opportunity for you, Harry.” Nicholas almost sounded excited. “If you think this is the best thing for me, then that’s what I’ll do,” Harry confirmed. He looked at Nicholas sadly. “How long?” Nicholas didn’t have to ask Harry what he meant by that question. “It’s hard to say. It could be any moment. No more than a week, maximum.” Harry nodded. “I think I’ll go and sit a while with Perry while she sleeps.” “Yes, that’s a good idea, Harry,” Nicholas agreed. He picked up the sheets of parchment that had been in the folder. “You may want to read these. They cover a variety of things you will need to know. Funeral arrangements, legal matters; that sort of thing.” Harry took the sheets and headed towards the stairs. He was starting to feel he was living in a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from. All he could do now was wait for the only people he genuinely loved to die. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Nichol as awoke with a start. He was instantly aware that something was very, very wrong. In the darkness he groped for his wife’s hand under the bed sheets. Finding it, he gripped it tightly. Her hand was stone cold. He was gripped by a sudden feeling of emptiness and loss so strong that it nearly overwhelmed him. Perenelle was gone. For the first time in nearly eight hundred years he couldn’t feel her presence within him. A croaking sob escaped him and he could feel the tears running down his face. But the sensation only lasted a few seconds and he then became aware of something else. Death stood before him, beckoning to him. “I’m coming, Perenelle, my love,” he whispered and, with a sense of relief, reached for Death’s hand. Sunday, 2 July 1995 Harry sat at the kitchen table cradling a cup of untouched tea. Misty and Bolly sat on their small stools near the fireplace. The house was completely silent. The three of them had been sat like this since Harry had got up several hours before. They were all listening for some sign of movement from upstairs, a noise that signified Nicholas or Perenelle were up and moving. With each passing minute the hope that they would hear that noise faded. He couldn’t decide what to do. Sitting here waiting was slowly killing him, but the thought of going upstairs and entering his grandparent’s bedroom was too much. While he sat at the table there was still hope. Venturing upstairs might well destroy that hope. Indecision paralysed him, while fear tortured him. He was grateful he hadn’t eaten anything or he was sure he would have thrown up by now. Perhaps sensing his pain, Bolly stirred. “Master Harry, should Bolly go and check on Master and Mistress?” he asked. NO! Harry’s mind screamed. Don’t move! Don’t do anything. Don’t make this real. “Yes, I think that would be best.” The words passed Harry’s lips like murderous traitors, all waiting to stab him in the back. With a soft pop, Bolly vanished. After an agonising few seconds, Misty gasped and also vanished. Shortly afterwards, Harry heard Misty’s voice wailing from upstairs and he knew. He roughly threw his cup of cold tea against the wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. He dropped his head into his hands, but the tears wouldn’t fall. Harry just couldn’t cry anymore. Monday, 3 July 1995 Numbly, Harry trudged down the familiar street which led to Lisa’s house. The last twenty-four hours had been the hardest of his life, and things were about to get worse. Still feeling the strange sensation of unreality he’d had for the last few days, he knocked on the bright blue door of the house. After a short while Lisa’s mother opened the door and smiled at him. “Hello, Harry. Lisa was wondering what happened to you yesterday.” She paused, perhaps noticing the look of misery on Harry’s face for the first time. “Are you all right, Harry?” “No, not really. Is Lisa in?” he asked. “Yes, of course. Come in.” Lisa’s mother was clearly worried by now. She ushered him into the front room where Lisa’s dad was sat in front of the television. Lisa herself was sat at the dining table doing her homework. She smiled at him as he entered. “Hey, Harry. What’s up? I thought you were coming round yesterday, not today,” she said. Harry stood looking at her for a second. He had rehearsed what he was going to say a dozen times in his head, but now he was here his mind had gone blank. All he could think about was how beautiful Lisa’s chestnut coloured hair was. She had obviously washed it that day and it shined. He so wanted to run his fingers through it, but knew that would only make things worse. “Lisa, something terrible has happened. My grandparents…they…both died yesterday.” Somehow he managed to force the words out of his mouth. Both Lisa and her mother gasped. “How?” Lisa said, with her eyes wide. This was the part Harry had rehearsed so as not to arouse suspicion. “Perry’s been ill for some time; she’s just been really good at hiding it. The doctors think that she died sometime yesterday night in her sleep. Nick must has woken up and found her, and the shock was too much for his heart.” He managed to keep his voice fairly steady. “Oh, Harry!” Lisa stood and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. Harry stood stiffly in her embrace, cursing himself for what he had to tell her next. Lisa’s mother, however, was looking straight at him with tears in her eyes and seemed to have guessed already. “Who’s going to look after you now, Harry?” she asked. “I’m going to live with a friend of the family who’s agreed to look after me, certainly for a year or two,” he explained. He felt Lisa’s body stiffen. “Where does this person live?” she asked in a small voice. “Japan,” he said simply. “You’re…you’re moving away? When will I see you again?” she asked, tears already starting to fall. “I don’t know, Lisa. Probably not for years and years,” he answered honestly. “Noooo!” she wailed, and hugged him like she was never going to let him go. “Stay here! You can live with us.” Harry closed his eyes and fought to stop himself crying. Lisa’s mother again came to his rescue. “Lisa, darling, Harry doesn’t have a choice where he goes to live. I’m sure that if these family friends have offered to take him in they’ll take good care of him. We can’t just take him in, love,” she explained softly. “Why not?” Lisa sobbed. “We’re his friends too. Why can’t he live here?” “Nick and Perry said this was where I had to go if anything happened to them,” Harry explained. “They were my legal guardians so I have to go if that’s what they wanted.” Lisa just cried harder into his shoulder. Eventually, the small girl's sobbing subsided and she sat on the sofa next to Harry. He stayed for another half an hour making forced conversation about his grandparents and what would be happening now. It was to everyone’s obvious relief, apart from Lisa’s, when he informed them that he had to go home. He left them details of the funeral, and he departed with their promises that they would be there. Harry stumbled home in as much of a daze as he had left in. He knew giving up Lisa was something he had to do. He was being hunted by Death Eaters, and now Voldemort had a body again, the danger to him had quadrupled. Voldemort knew at least part of the prophecy, and he was bound to keep coming after Harry until one of them was dead. If the Death Eaters knew about Lisa, they might use her to get to him; and she and her family were defenceless. He couldn’t put her at risk like that. Entering the house, he greeted the elves before going upstairs to his room. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His grandparents' funeral was set for two day’s time, and after that he intended to follow Nicholas’s instructions and take the Portkey to Japan. Frankly, at that moment, he would welcome anything to take his mind away from the misery. Wednesday 5 July 1995 The funeral was a simple affair in the local churchyard. Harry had been surprised at how few people were in attendance, but after thinking about it he had understood. Nicholas and Perenelle had outlived all their family members and had been pretty reclusive for years. The result was only a dozen or so people were clustered around the grave. Harry had been grateful for the detailed instructions Nicholas had left him regarding the funeral arrangements and shocked to find how many of them had already been put in place. Professor Dumbledore had helped with the rest of it and had been hovering round for days. Harry was waiting for the man to raise the issue of him coming to Hogwarts at any moment. Frankly, he was surprised that he had not already done so. The sheets of parchment Nicholas had left him had contained a number of other surprises. Most shocking to Harry was that he had been named as the Flamels' sole beneficiary in their will. A goblin from Gringotts had come out to see him and explained the details of the will. As he was not yet seventeen he could not yet gain full access to his inheritance, but his adopted grandparents had set up a trust account of sufficient size that he could foresee no financial difficulties until he became of age in two years. He was equally shocked to learn that his parents had set up a similar arrangement and, between the value of the two trust funds, he was a very wealthy wizard indeed. When the goblin had informed him that on receipt of his full inheritance from the Potters and the Flamels Harry would become the wealthiest wizard in the country, he had nearly fallen off his chair. The goblin explained that the production of gold was in fact a by-product of the Philosopher's Stone. Every time the Flamel’s had produced the elixir they needed to sustain their lives, a considerable amount of gold was produced. To prevent the metal from being devalued, an arrangement had been made with the goblins to sell off the gold in small quantities on a regular basis, mostly overseas. While the Flamel vault still contained a sizable stockpile of gold, hundreds of years of regular trading had converted most of this to cash -- a lot of cash. Add to this the fact that the Potters were a wealthy pure-blood family and Harry stood to be worth more than most small countries in a few years’ time. To Harry’s mind the numbers involved were so large they just didn’t seem real. He therefore instructed the goblin to continue managing his accounts, and he would review things again on his seventeenth birthday, assuming Voldemort hadn’t killed him before then, of course. He also found he was owner of quite a lot of property as well. Between the Flamels and the Potters he owned homes in eight different countries with sizable holdings in the British Isles. In the short term he had asked Misty and Bolly to continue looking after the Cornish house, although he decided against spending too much time there in the near future. The Death Eaters were obviously aware he had been living there, and without his grandparents the wards protecting the house would weaken over time. The funeral service seemed to be over incredibly fast, although Harry speculated it may have just seemed that way to his confused mind. Everything that had happened to him recently seemed to be getting on top of him and at times he felt he was going crazy. The more he thought about it, the more grateful he was that he would be leaving for a while. He found the physical act of burying Nick and Perry did not affect him as much as he thought it would. He had already shed his tears, and this was just giving them a place to rest. It gave him a focal point he knew he could return to in the future to visit them. That thought did make him start to wonder where his parents' grave was, and why he had never asked to visit it. That was something for the future, he decided. As the local Vicar said his final few words and the mourners shuffled past the grave one last time, Harry knew he had two things left to do. Neither of these things were very appealing for wildly different reasons, but both were unavoidable. Squaring his shoulders, he walked over to where Lisa’s family had gathered. “Thank you all for coming,” he said simply. “That’s quite alright, Harry,” Lisa’s mother responded. “Nick and Perry were both wonderful people. They’ll be greatly missed.” “Thank you. I’m sure they would appreciate you feeling that way,” Harry responded. He was aware the conversation was being conducted in pre-arranged sentences that people always used at such occasions. Tried and tested words that were safe to speak without the risk of giving offence or causing pain. “When do you have to leave, lad?” Lisa’s father asked. Harry had never really spoken to the man before and wondered what he thought of him dating his daughter. It was a bit late to start thinking about things like that now, he realised. “Almost immediately,” Harry responded. “I just have to go back to the house and change, and then I’ll be off. It’s a long way to go.” “Yes, of course. We’ll just leave you to say your goodbyes to Lisa, then.” Lisa’s parents moved a little way down the path, but not far enough that they couldn’t keep an eye on them. Their caution almost made Harry want to laugh. He turned to the small girl who was resolutely keeping her gaze directed downwards. He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were red and it was clear she had been crying. He took a deep breath and hoped he could say what he had to say. “Lisa, I just want to tell you how much I’m going to miss you. You’ve been the best girlfriend a boy could ever want, and I’ve loved every second I’ve been with you. You know I would stay if I could, right?” The girl just nodded slightly. “If I could have stayed…if things were different, I…” Harry struggled to find the right words to say. “But you’ll come back when you can, won’t you?” Lisa interrupted. “You’ll come back to England and we can be together again. I’ll wait for you!” This was exactly what Harry had hoped to avoid. Lisa was a Muggle. His very presence made her a huge target. “I don’t know if I ever will return, Lisa. Even if I do it could be years and years before I do. You’re a wonderful girl and I know plenty of boys will be queuing up to go out with you…” Again Lisa interrupted. “No! I don’t want to go out with other boys. I want to be with you. Don’t you like me any longer?” she sobbed. “Of course I still like you,” he assured her. “I like you very much. But I’m going away and it might be for good. I can’t ask you to wait for me. We’re still young, Lisa. If I had stayed it would be different but I can’t. I’m sorry.” Lisa closed her eyes tight and tried to get control of herself. They stood in awkward silence, both knowing that the next words they would speak to each other might well be the last they ever would. Instinctively, Harry realised Lisa wasn’t prepared to be the one that broke away first. With a lump in his throat, he stepped forward and took her hands in his. Her eyes snapped open and there was panic in them as she realised this was it. He leaned forward and gently kissed her before pulling away. “Goodbye, Lisa,” Harry said. “Goodbye, Harry,” she replied. With feet of lead, Harry turned and started to walk away. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to look back. He headed directly towards Professor Dumbledore and the second of his unpleasant tasks. The man was wearing a ridiculous pin-striped suit that was probably last in fashion in the thirties. The suit was at odds with the serious expression on his face. Harry stopped a few feet away from the man and looked at him in anticipation. “We need to talk about your future, Harry,” Dumbledore said. Harry nodded. This was the conversation he had been expecting for days. “Let’s go back to the house. I need to change,” he replied. He turned and headed towards the churchyard’s gate. He saw no sign of Lisa or her family and assumed they had not lingered, a fact he was very grateful for. Dumbledore followed Harry out of the gate and down the narrow lane that led out of the village. After about half a mile, Harry turned down another lane and entered the house, his house now, with Dumbledore at his heels. They had not spoken a word throughout the journey. “Why don’t you take a seat for a second while I change?” Harry suggested. “Misty or Bolly will get you anything you want.” “Thank you, Harry. A refreshing cup of tea would be very welcome, I must say,” Dumbledore replied with a smile. Harry nodded at Misty who had been hovering in the kitchen looking miserable, and she scampered off to put the kettle on. Harry left the kitchen and went upstairs to his bedroom. He changed out of the dark Muggle suit he had been wearing and into jeans and a plain t-shirt. His duffel bag was already packed and waiting for him at the foot of the bed. He stood and took one last look around the room. Tears nearly started falling as he looked out of the window with its view of the glistening sea. He remembered his first night in the house when Perry had stood with him looking out that very window as she taught him the names of the stars they could see. Lovingly, he ran a finger down the windowpane, enjoying the feel of the wood against his skin. Then he silently turned, picked up his bag and headed downstairs. The Professor was sat at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in front of him. Harry pulled back a chair and sat opposite him. Misty bustled forward and placed another cup of tea in front of Harry. As she did so Harry reached over and caught her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The little elf took one look at him and burst into tears. She gave Harry a quick hug before running out the room, crying her eyes out. He had already said his goodbyes to the elves that morning and ensured they had access to his Gringotts account. Taking a sip of tea, he turned and looked at the old wizard. “I see you are already packed, Harry. I’m glad you understand that you can’t stay here. I was rather afraid that you might be under that misapprehension,” Dumbledore said with what Harry assumed was meant to be a kindly smile. Harry just shook his head. “In the circumstances I feel it would be best if you come and live at Hogwarts for the present,” Dumbledore continued. “While more permanent living arrangements maybe possible later, with a resurrected Voldemort on the loose I feel Hogwarts is the only place that is really safe for you at the moment.” This was the lead-in to the question Harry really wanted to ask. “Professor, when you were last here you tried to convince Nick and Perry to send me to Hogwarts in September. You said then that the school was the safest place for me. Why did you say that?” he asked. Dumbledore shifted slightly, but the kindly smile didn’t waiver. “Because, quite simply, it is the safest place for you,” Dumbledore replied. Harry resisted an urge to shout at the old man in frustration at his glib answer. “What I mean,” he said with forced calmness, “is why did you suggest it then? I’d been living with the Flamels for years without anyone suggesting I needed to be at Hogwarts ‘for my safety.' What changed? Did you hear something?” Dumbledore’s smile did falter this time. “Now, Harry, you can’t expect me to discuss such issues with a fourteen year-old boy.” Harry felt his temper rise. Magic energy surged through him and he could start to feel the pressure build. The cups on the table began to vibrate slopping tea onto the wooden surface. Dumbledore looked up in alarm. “Please, Professor,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to keep an even temper here, but answers like that are just going to annoy me. I will ask again; what changed?” Dumbledore’s smile finally faded and he looked Harry in the eye. “We received intelligence that Voldemort had returned to this country to re-establish himself. He tried once before, back in 1991, when he possessed a teacher at Hogwarts in an effort to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone. That attempt was obviously thwarted when Nicholas and Perenelle destroyed the stone. After that setback we believed that Voldemort’s spirit returned to his previous hiding place in Rumania.” Dumbledore paused to drink more tea before continuing. “Recently, a tournament was held at Hogwarts called the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Unfortunately, it was disrupted when it was discovered that the son of a senior Ministry official in charge of the event had infiltrated the school, possibly with the unwitting help of his father. This was something of a shock to us all as the son was not only a known Death Eater, but had been believed to have been dead for some years. Under interrogation he admitted that he was under orders to enter the school to try and find some clues to your whereabouts. Somehow, he had learnt a few details of your adventure in the Chamber of Secrets and believed you and I were in regular contact. With hindsight, it appears he was seeking your abduction so you could be used in the ritual you witnessed recently. I assume a rival Death Eater was the one responsible for your actual kidnapping. The servants of Voldemort are frequently in competition.” Harry stared at the old man for a second. “So, let me get this straight. You want me to go to Hogwarts as it’s the safest place for me, despite the fact that it has already been infiltrated by a Death Eater and by Voldemort himself who was possessing the body of one of your teachers?” he asked in disbelief. Dumbledore had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Since these events we have tightened up security, Harry. I am confident that no one bearing a Dark Mark can now enter Hogwarts,” he explained. “So what happens if Voldemort uses someone who hasn’t taken the Mark? And don’t you think it would have been a good idea to mention these ‘events’ to my grandparents when you were talking to them? If we had known actual Death Eaters were at large and looking for me, we might have done things differently.” Again, Harry found himself struggling to control his temper. “Really, Harry, this is all immaterial. The Flamels always knew that the agents of Voldemort were seeking you. Why else would they have made you wear that bracelet that was so useful in tracking you after you were kidnapped by Pettigrew? We had no idea that another Death Eater had managed to actually locate you. Indeed, the events at the Tri-wizard Tournament may even have been a diversion. The fact remains that out of all the possible places you could go, Hogwarts remains the safest option,” Dumbledore said forcefully. Harry suspected the man didn’t like anyone arguing with him. He smiled at the Professor's irritation. “Actually, Professor, there is somewhere safer,” Harry said with confidence. “Somewhere no one knows I could be going to.” “And where, pray, would this be?” Dumbledore asked. Harry stood and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “That,” said Harry, gripping the ring Nicholas had given him, “would be telling.” He activated the Portkey and vanished, leaving a very frustrated old wizard behind. AN Well, I hope that wasn’t too upsetting for everyone. Next up — Japan! I did say in some of my reviews that I was about to venture wildly off-canon, but it will only be for a few chapters. I know there have been a number of other stories that have had similar ideas, but for all those groaning at the idea of a SamuraiHarry! I do promise I’ve given the concept a bit of a different spin (hopefully). Huge thanks to Tom for Beta-ing as always. I suspect I will need his knowledge a great deal in the coming chapter. |
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