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Chapter Text

In the hallway of St. Mungo's Hospital, two parents were waiting anxiously for news of their children. Preliminary tests had matched their own observations that both were fine, but given the circumstances, they weren't going to leave anything to chance.

For the young mother, it was as if the world had spun off its axis, what with everything having taken a dark turn so quickly and so utterly. A year ago, Lily Potter could not have even imagined the state of things as they were now. It was all so, so much to cope with. Too much to take in.

The day had started off grand, Harry's Halloween birthday had been an eye in the storm. They'd left to respond to a Death Eater attack, only to return to the Potter's ancestral home in ruins.

How did things ever get so bad?

Lily knew how, but still couldn't wrap her head around it.

Sirius had betrayed them.

They had trusted him, and he had betrayed that trust. They had trusted him with the lives of their children, and he had turned around and sold them out to their would-be murderer. He had betrayed his friends and the people who had taken him when his family had cast him out. He had betrayed them in favour of pure-blood supremacy, in favour of a monster.

He had betrayed James, his best friend.

Sirius had killed Peter. Sweet, harmless, foolish, little Peter. Sirius had destroyed Peter and slaughtered twelve innocent people alongside him.

Sirius Black, the dashing rogue she'd come to love over the years, whom she'd come to accept as part of her family and entrusted her children to, should anything happen to her & James. He had murdered their friend and caused the deaths of her husband's parents, who'd taken him in when he had nowhere else to go, and nearly saw his godchildren go with them.

It didn't make any sense to her, but there was no denying it.

Her in-laws, Dorea & Charlus had made Sirius their secret-keeper.

She and James hadn't wanted to leave the fight to their friends while they hid, but they needed to keep their children safe. Thankfully, James' parents were able to take them in, who themselves needed to abstain from fighting due to them still recovering from a bout of Dragonpox. They hid the children with their grandparents with the most fool-proof way they could – the Fidelius Charm. Voldemort wouldn't be able to even find their children, let alone harm them. Dumbledore had offered to be the Secret Keeper, but Dorea was unwilling to trust the man with the lives of her family when they were the key to defeating the scourge that plagued Britain.

Sirius had been an easy choice. James and she were obvious targets. If they didn't know, they could be used to bait the Death Eaters without so much as risking the secret being revealed. But more importantly, neither of them were Occlumens, while Sirius was as a result of his strict upbringing in the House of Black. He could be left to the mercy of a powerful Legilimens like Voldemort and still keep the secret, and they had been certain that he would never reveal it to the enemy willingly...

Remus had been an option, one of the benefits of his affliction was that his mind was unassailable, but they had suspected him of being a traitor. Remus had always struggled under the oppressive policies of the Ministry regarding werewolves. He struggled to find work, struggled to find somewhere to live, didn't even attempt to find someone to love. It was not unthinkable that maybe he was willing to do something drastic to change that. Peter had been certain that he already had, and convinced them as much. Poor, foolish Peter...

Remus was gone now too, though mercifully not dead. Just hurt. They were Remus' only friends, and to learn that those whom he did have had believed him capable of such treachery as Sirius had done was more than he could stomach. Lily could not put into words how awful she felt about it, only that she would do anything to make it up to him, to have Remus with them now.

There were so few of them left now. The war had cost them all so much. Cost her many of her friends, so many that she could count on one hand the ones she had left.

Severus... was beyond lost to her.

Alice and Frank were in the hospital too, but in a different way entirely. They had been tortured into such states that the healers were already saying that recovery was not an option.

Benjy and Dorcas, Fabian and Gideon, Edgar and his family. All of them. Dead.

Marlene McKinnon, a dear friend who had gone through school with her, a beautiful soul that had joined the Order to fight for Muggleborns like herself when the pure-blooded witch could have easily stayed out of it, had been murdered along with her entire family simply for defying Voldemort.

So much death. There was enough grief to drown in. Yet despite that, it wasn't the grief that was tearing her apart. It was the guilt.

It threatened to consume her because even in the face of all this misery and sorrow, Lily Potter was still happy.

Happy that Sirius would face justice for what he'd done. Happy that Severus wasn't the only best friend who had brought Voldemort's wrath down on them. Happy that she would get the chance to mend her friendship with Remus. Happy Benjy & Dorcas hadn't died in vain. Happy that the twins' sister would get to carry on their legacy. Happy that Amelia Bones would get to raise her brother's daughter in peace. Happy that Alice and Frank had stayed strong for their son, and protected him to the end. Happy that Marlene never learned the truth about the man she loved.

But worst of all, she felt happy that it had been James' parents to die and not her babies. The very thought was like a poison in her mind. She loved Dorea and Charlus, she truly did. They were wonderful people who had sacrificed themselves to save the most precious things in her life. And yet she couldn't help but feel happy that it had been them and not Harry and Rose.

Why did she have to feel happy? Was it contagious? Everyone else around her seemed to be cheering and toasting Voldemort's demise, but they had seemed to forget the sacrifices that had made it possible. She was sure she hadn't, and she still felt it. Could one of the healers have slipped her a potion to keep her from going crazy?

She glanced at James, and she felt even more guilty. If there was anyone in Magical Britain who had every right not to be happy, it was him. Her extraordinary husband was staring at the wall, with eyes that lacked their usual boisterous vigour. Frozen like a statue.

Sitting beside him, she called his name, "James."

The man didn't answer, lost in his thoughts as he was.

Nudging his shoulder, she tried it again, "James."

With a startled shudder, he turned to her in fright, "What?" Locking eyes with her, he found his bearings, "Oh, Lily..."

Staring into eyes hidden behind his spectacles, she saw her reflection and noticed the tears streaming down her face.

"James, I-I, I don't... I can't..."

He wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her close. "I know."

Lily could tell from the tone in his voice that he really did. So she melted into his embrace and broke into sobs.

James Potter truly did. Children are meant to bury their parents, not the other way around. His parents were dead, but his children, miraculously, were still alive.

Despite it all, he would take solace as he had since the war began, with Lily in his arms, and knowing that the children were in the next room over. Safe.

He would cling to that, and gladly let his wife cling to him until she could to.

Hours later, the couple was finally separated by the appearance of Dumbledore in the hall. The wizened wizard was coming toward them in his usual periwinkle robes, with an unusually sullen look on his face that made Lily start to panic immediately.

The parents were on their feet in an instant and at Dumbledore's side, interrogating him, "What's wrong, Albus? What is it? Did something happen? Is it Rosie?" it wasn't that the Potters cared more for their baby girl than their little boy, but the presence of a lightning-bolt shaped scar on her forehead which refused to disappear that was noticeably absent from Harry's.

Waving his hands to calm the two down, Dumbledore answered, "Young Rose is fine; the babe, while shaken from the night's events, is in no immediate danger, and will be able to leave with you tonight."

Mollified, the parents breathed a sigh of relief, but still had questions. "What's wrong with the scar then? Why wouldn't it heal?" Lily asked. Curse scars were known to leave permanent marks, but none would be made by harmless spells.

"Ah, yes, the scar," the old wizard began to stroke his beard as he considered how to explain, "It seems to be a mark left by Voldemort's attempt to use the Killing Curse on the girl."

"What?!" cried the parents.

"I understand it must come as a shock, but I am quite certain that is indeed the cause."

"You said she was fine!" Lily exclaimed, "How is that fine?!"

Dumbledore clasped the furious woman's hands and explained with twinkling eyes, "Now, now, my dear girl, all manner of tests have been done. Besides leaving a small blemish, the wound appears to be superficial, and while it may never truly disappear, it is nothing to worry about."

Lily felt that the wizard wasn't telling her something, but before she could inquire, James asked a question of his own, "How is that possible, Albus? How could it have been the Killing Curse if Rose isn't dead?"

The question made Lily tremble; the very use of the word 'dead' in that same sentence as her daughter's name made her feel physically ill.

Taking another moment to gather his thoughts, Dumbledore did his best to share his findings, "Having not been there at the time, it is impossible to say for certain what happened exactly," the wizard neglected to mention that he had observed the young girl's memories of the night. It would not do to worry the young parents with fears of their daughter's mental health, and there was already more than enough to discuss without him having to explain just how innocuous the effects of observing the recent memories of an infant were.

"However, I believe that Rose's survival, and subsequently Voldemort's demise are the result of Dorea's sacrifice," Dumbledore looked to James, who was struggling to make sense of it all. "A combination of her family's magic with the sacrificial protection I imagine brought on by the circumstances of their encounter, led to your children being shielded from harm, thereby causing Voldemort's curse to backfire and destroy himself."

James was stunned. The Dark Lord had tried to kill his daughter, but was killed because of his mother.

Lily, however, was not entirely surprised, she had studied similar spells before they'd gone into hiding.

When neither of them asked any follow-up questions, Dumbledore moved on, "I must ask that the two of you keep this between us," the wizard cautioned, "the requirements necessary for such protection to be successful are numerous and incredibly difficult to achieve. I fear that if the details of this were to be made known to the wizarding world, it would lead to many more deaths than lives saved."

He went on to explain that the various factors that for familial love to be harnessed in such a way were staggering, and might never occur in the same way ever again, and that anyone trying to copy them in order to keep their family members safe would almost certainly die needlessly.

The parents were quick to agree; the last thing they needed on their minds was the thought of more death.

"That being said, I am afraid that knowledge of young Rose's involvement in tonight's events has already reached the general public."

"What role?" James asked, confused, "I thought you said it was my mother?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore concurred, with a weary nod, "I'm convinced that is the case; however, that is not readily apparent to the average witch or wizard. The populace will see Dorea as another of Voldemort's victims, whilst seeing Rose as a spectacular survivor of the most lethal of spells, with its notorious wand-movement displayed for all to see on her person."

This elicited a groan from Lily, "Will people really think that? She isn't even a toddler yet."

"Unfortunately, Voldemort's targeting of your daughter and knowledge of this fact among his followers will lend far more credence to this narrative of Rose being a saviour rather than the truth. It seems yet another prophecy fulfills itself."

"Can't you explain it to people? So they don't start treating Rosie like some sort of celebrity." James asked, almost begged.

Sorrowfully shaking his head, the professor had to refuse, "Any explanation I would give of the true events of that night would lead back to the problem of people attempting to replicate this tragedy, and moreover, the bulk of the details of tonight's events have already spread. By now, conclusions have been reached, and minds made up. Any chance Rose might have had living in obscurity has passed."

'It never ends,' Lily thought to herself. Things kept getting worse and worse; it was like someone had jinxed their luck.

Frustrated and tired beyond belief, James patted his old Professor's shoulder, took Lily's hand, and made to go collect the kids.

Dumbledore dearly wished that was the end of it. That he could bid his students goodbye, wish them well, see them move on from the day's tragedy, and finally begin their lives as a happy family. Dumbledore wished he could do that. But he had learned long ago that such things meant nothing in the face of reality.

And so it was with a heavy heart that Dumbledore called out to the parents once more, telling them there was another matter that they needed to address.

"If it's all the same, Albus, can't it wait till tomorrow?" James asked, echoed by his wife, who shared the same exhaustion.

The older man shook his head, and his eyes dropped, "Would that it could, Mr. Potter, but alas this is not the sort of matter that can be left for long, and I doubt that the three of us will be able to meet anytime in the near future without being swarmed by the curious."

James let out a long, weary sigh that could topple a house of straw, and threw his arm up in a gesture to have Albus get it over with.

"It concerns young Harry, I'm so-"

"Harry?!" Lily exclaimed in a panic. Harry was fine, he was safe, there wasn't a scratch on him. "Did something happen to him?!"

Placating the worried mother, the wizard again took her hands in his, "My dear, young Harry is in perfect health, he has no injuries, and aside from being justifiably a tad cranky, he's entirely unscathed."

Though Lily took a breath in relief, James did not. He knew that if Harry had been hurt, Dumbledore would have led with it. "What is it then?"

"Ah, yes. Sadly, after examining him for some time myself, I have discovered that Harry, while a stout bouncing boy full of the energy of youth, possesses no magical capability whatsoever."

Stunned into silence, neither of them said anything for what felt like forever as they tried to digest what they'd just been told. Dumbledore made sure to give them ample time to process it; such news was a lot to take in at the best of times, let alone on a day like this Halloween.

Eventually, James found his voice: "You're saying Harry's a Squib?"

"Pre-" before Dumbledore could confirm the diagnosis, Lily was answering for him as she shook her head in disbelief, "No, no, no, he can't be! He's only two, he only just turned two, it's far too soon to tell, he's still got five years to show his magic before you can even think that!"

With a frown, Dumbledore was forced to contradict his former pupil, "In truth, my dear girl, seven is simply a milestone, an agreed-upon age which most wizards or witches display their magic, it is a useful number for parents to pay attention to, but it is by no means definitive."

Lily continued, "I've read every wizarding baby book there is, Albus." That was certainly true, as a young mother, albeit very mature for her age, she had wanted to know everything she could about the subject. "They all say that-"

This time it was Dumbledore who interrupted, "I'm sorry, Lily. I know where you're headed, and I assure you that in my many, many years, I've come to notice things other wizards cannot. I can determine whether a child has the gift of magic with little more than a glance, albeit it is something I tend to avoid doing to prevent conversations such as this. But it was bound to happen when I checked Harry for any signs of harm. It is not unheard of for older siblings to be Squibs, and it does seem to occur more frequently in the children of Muggleborns."

There was that guilt again. She had done this to Harry.

She was combing through her memories of her boy to try and recall an incident of accidental magic that would prove him wrong, but even she knew that it wasn't going to happen. Harry had never shown any magic to them. He had learned his first words earlier than any child she had ever heard of, and could recognize shapes better than some adults, but he had never shown any signs of magic. So what if Rose had already shown magic at a younger age? All children were different; everyone knew that. It had never worried her before. Harry was a quiet, good, well-behaved boy who didn't act up and rarely wanted for anything. And maybe she had kept training brooms well away from him, but that wasn't his fault!

"Couldn't he just be a late bloomer?" she begged.

Dumbledore shook his head, fully understanding her desire to avoid the truth of it, "No. Like I've said, late bloomers are simply those witches & wizards who show their magic later in life, it is not that they lack it since birth, as is the case with Harry."

Shaking her head in disbelief, she rejected his words, "No, I refuse to believe it. Voldemort must have done something to him, a curse to make it look like he was a Squib, or he might have stolen Harry's magic, and there's some spell or potion that can get it back!"

"Lily." Her husband wrapped an arm around her waist to try to calm her down, but she didn't need to be calmed down; she needed Dumbledore to fix what was wrong with Harry.

But alas it was not to be, "I doubt even Voldemort was capable of doing so, and I have even graver doubts he would attempt such a thing," in truth, Dumbledore knew that Tom had reached the same conclusion as he had through the memories of Harry's younger sister, which is why his old student had left the boy alone as a non-entity. Young Harry may owe his life to Tom, disregarding the Potter's Squib son. He decided against telling the Potters that this may have saved the boy's life, as he was unsure if Dorea's protection would have worked on a child without magic, like so many other spells. "In any case, if there were such means to restore magic, they are unknown to me or any soul I have ever heard of in all my years, and would go with Voldemort to the grave."

Looking the woman in the eye, Dumbledore reiterated his point, "There is no question in my mind, dear Lily, Harry is indeed a Squib."

Collapsing into her husband's arms, she broke down, "What are we going to do, James? What's going to happen to Harry?"

It was if the world was weighing down on his shoulders. The man wished he could simply plug his ears and make it all go away, but he knew better. He had responsibilities to attend to and a family to take care of. Realization didn't stop the clenching in his chest from the feeling of a stake going through his heart.

It took him three tries, but finally, he said the words, "We have to let him go."

The look in her eyes, those green eyes that he so adored, from the woman he loved more than life itself, would have been enough to make him drop to his knees to beg for forgiveness. And if it were anything else, he would have. But James Potter would do anything, absolutely anything, for his children. He knew what he needed to do for Harry. Even if it destroyed himself, he would save his son.

"Lily, we have to."

It was like a torrent of fire had welled up in her, as she pushed him away from her. She couldn't believe it. Not from him. Not the James she knew, the man who had married the Muggleborn from school. Just as she was about to burst and breathe fire at him, he spoke first.

"What kind of life does he have here, Lily? He'd never be able to go to Hogwarts, never use a wand or ride a broom-"

"There's more to life than riding a broom!" Lily spat, an old argument reaching its pinnacle at the worst possible time, but James soldiered on.

"We would have to watch him constantly, hovering over him every moment of his life, terrified that he might eat the wrong thing and keel over from a bit of potion or that some creature might swallow him whole just for fun or a prank could send him into seizures or Merlin knows what could-"

"I'd do it, I'd do it gladly if it meant I got to keep Harry!"

"You want him to grow up jealous of Rose for being able to do things he could only ever dream of?"

"I want him to grow up with his little sister! With his family!"

"Then there's what people will say about him. You know what people think of Squibs here. Look at Filch! And with this situation with Rosie, just imagine what the Prophet will have to say about it once they find out about it. Do you want Harry to read horrible things about himself in the newspaper?!"

"I don't want either of our children reading that rag!"

"What kind of life could he have never being able to fit in, never being able to be part of our world, being different from everyone else around him?!"

"He'd have us! He'd have our love and support! He'd have his mum!"

It went on like that for a while, with Dumbledore watching helplessly, having long since placed the couple in a soundproof bubble to guard their secrecy. It was a painful thing to watch, each of them with their conflicting beliefs about what was best for their son, each of them desperate for the other's support and hurt by the task of trying to convince the other to do the right thing. Finally, he could it bare it no longer and intervened.

"If I may," he'd waited for a lull in the argument, then made sure his voice was heard with a faint, wordless Amplifying charm. Once he'd gotten both of their attentions, he stated his case, "I believe both of you seem to be neglecting to consider one crucial aspect of this situation."

The pair was not pleased by Dumbledore's intrusion into what was by far the biggest decision of their lives, but each listened to him, if only out of the hope he might take their side and help convince their spouse.

"Our war was not won," the wizard told them in a strange tone that not even he fully understood, "Merely ended by Voldemort's premature removal from the battlefield. His Death Eaters remain, throughout the country, and while I will endeavour with every fibre of my being to bring them to justice, and make every effort to keep your family safe. Given the circumstances of our conflict, it will be impossible to discern friend from foe in every instance. Inevitably, some of Voldemort's loyal supporters will have escaped and pose a threat in the future."

Husband and wife stood still, worried by the powerful wizard's warning, who himself dared not share his suspicions that Voldemort had cheated death, and that he too would one day return. "If young Harry remains in our world, he will for the rest of his days be in mortal peril from your enemies, who will seek to do you harm in any way they can, by whatever means necessary, and he would be left defenseless."

Now understanding what Dumbledore was getting at, Lily argued, "We'll defend him! We kept Rose safe from Voldemort, we'll keep Harry safe from his lackeys!"

"How, Lily?" but it wasn't Dumbledore who asked, but James, "How're we supposed to keep Harry safe forever, huh? Keep him locked away for his whole life? Never let him leave the house? Never let him meet any strangers because they might be a Death Eater in disguise. Hope that no one ever points a wand at him?"

Lily struggled to think of a reply, despite her insistence that they had to do something, but before she could think of something, her husband continued, "Because if you know how to do it, Lily, I'm with you. If you can tell me how we can keep Harry safe and happy, then I'll back you all the way and never look back. Damn the rest."

She gave herself a migraine trying to come up with something. A brilliant idea worthy of the brightest-witch-of-her-age, one that could keep her family together, and her baby safe without ruining his life. She tried so hard, considered unspeakable things, and inane ideas that she dismissed in moments.

When she couldn't think of anything but the same magic Dorea had used to save Rose, her knees gave out beneath her, and she sank to the floor in a sorry state.

Dropping beside her, James hugged her tight, needing her, perhaps even more than she needed him.

Collecting the couple, bringing them to their children, Dumbledore then escorted the family to a safe-house within the boundaries of his childhood home.

Godric's Hollow

After seeing the Potters settled, before he took his leave, he wished them well, promised to deal with the fallout of Voldemort's demise personally, and to do his best to keep the reporters at bay for as long as was possible.

Perhaps it was his age, or reluctance to deal with anything else tonight, or melancholy for the hardships of his students, but instead of disappearing back to the Ministry, or even Hogwarts, Albus strolled through the village where he had spent his teenage years.

Walking through the cozy hollow on its narrow road, and passing all the identical quaint little cottages, Dumbledore could hear the jubilant celebrations coming from St. Jerome's Church, its congregation already having heard the good news and their trials of yesterday forgotten.

Next Halloween, children would instead be on the streets, going door to door in search of sweets and the occasional trick. It weighed heavily on the man's heart knowing that young Harry would not be joining them.

In the back of his mind, a voice that did not belong to him, though still every bit as familiar as his own, spoke to him 'Magic is meant to bring us together, not tear families apart.' The memory of his father being dragged off to Azkaban haunted him soon after. He felt the longing for a world where Magic and Muggles were intertwined.

Without realizing it, Albus had found himself in front of Bathilda Bagshot's home. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if her nephew would burst out the door to greet him as he had so many times before...

He was quick to banish the notion from his head. It would not do to dwell on the past. The temptation was too tantalizing to even entertain for a second.

Gellert was history. And as of tonight, so was Tom. For now.

Tomorrow was a new day, and the beginning of his last chance to create a better world.

Perhaps Harry would be reunited with his family someday, in a brighter future.

James & Lily had left St. Mungo's with their children in tow to return home after perhaps the most trying day in history, and spent the rest of the night in their bed, clutching their children for dear life, neither one of them having slept a wink.

The next day, with their children safely in their cribs, the pair again found themselves in each other's arms, wondering what they were going to do about Harry.

Lily had finally agreed that they would have to let Harry go. Above all else, she wanted what was best for her children, and if it meant Harry not being with them. She would do it, even if it killed her.

Though she had argued for more time with her baby boy, James had convinced her otherwise, despite wanting it himself. The sooner the better. It would only make it harder on them to let go, harder for Rose to accept her brother's disappearance, and worst of all, harder on Harry to leave. They both agreed that they would need to act quickly then. Few people were even aware of Harry's birth in the first place; it was not something they had advertised, and their friends who had known were gone now.

If they acted fast enough, no one would even notice Harry wasn't with them anymore. No one else in their world would even know he'd ever existed... it was for the best. This way, no nosy reporters would try to track him down for a scoop. But more importantly, it was the best way to keep him safe. No Death Eater could target him if they didn't even know about him.

"Where's he going to go, James?" she whispered. They had decided that it was best for Harry to leave, but they hadn't even begun to discuss where the best place for him to go was. Already, Lily felt it was a harder choice.

It wasn't for James. He'd been considering it since the moment Dumbledore had told him. They didn't know any Squibs well enough to entrust Harry to. For Lily, that was simply due to a lack of experience with them; her inclusion in the Magical world was limited to school and the Order. For James, it was the result of the same sort of prejudices that contributed to their problem.

He'd discounted sending Harry to an orphanage or putting him into the foster care system, almost before it occurred to him. There was no way he was going to leave his boy in the hands of strangers. James had mulled over Lily and him finding a nice Muggle couple wanting a child, but he'd had to reject that as even as a Squib, Harry would notice aspects of the Magical world that Muggles could not. They might think his boy was mad and have him institutionalized, and not without reason if albeit still wrong. Even a Muggle family with a Muggleborn child was not in the cards as it would still leave Harry exposed to their world, and the threats that came with it.

In truth, James had known the answer since the start. He just didn't want to believe it. But he couldn't imagine an alternative, and they were running out of time to think of one.

The hardest part would be convincing his wife that it was true.

Whispering back his answer to her, in the most placating tone possible, "Your sister."

"Petunia!" Lily scoffed in a whisper/shout, "You know what she's like, what her husband's like, they hate us! Hate everything about us! Have you gone mad?! I'm not leaving Harry with them!" At the end of it, there was more shouting than whispering.

"Shhh," James soothed, "I know what you mean, Lily, but it's magic that they hate. And that won't be a problem for Harry, will it?"

She'd only stopped to breathe, but his words hit their mark and actually managed to make her consider it. He was right. Petunia had been a perfectly fine sister until her Hogwarts letter had arrived; it was only then that she'd started on that 'freakishness' tosh. Petunia and her husband were excessively normal people who hated everything outside the ordinary, but Harry was ordinary... he was like them now. Would Petunia hate him? What reason would she have to?

"I don't know, James."

"Come on, Lily, they're not my favourite people in the world either. But you've seen how they are with their son; they practically worship the boy. And this way Harry will be with your family, looked after by people who know about magic, and best of all, we could keep tabs on him. Hear how he's doing, send him presents, maybe even have a relationship with him." He really hoped he was convincing her, because it wasn't sounding all that great to him either, but he didn't know what else to do.

Lily weighed his words in her mind for a long while. James did have a point. Petunia might be nasty to her, but she wasn't nasty to most people. She did seem to love her husband, even if he was an oaf, and she was a doting mother, even if Lily did think Petunia was going to spoil her nephew. But was that enough to dissuade her from leaving Harry with her sister? The fear she might spoil him?

Finally, Lily said the words. "Alright, James. Tomorrow, I'll go talk to my sister and ask her about taking in Harry."

Little Whinging, Surrey

Years later, circumstances found Lily Potter sitting atop the roof of 7 Privet Drive with a pair of Omnioculars in her hands, under a Disillusionment Charm, watching the house across the street.

Watching as her son played with his cousin in the yard, as her sister watched on, pleased as could be, as she tended to her garden and occasionally spied on the Muggle woman who owned the house that Lily was squatting on.

Oh, Petunia had taken Harry in alright. She was positively pleased by the prospect. As if it were some sort of comeuppance for Lily having left her. That she had to come crawling back to plain, normal Petunia for help. Vernon too, delighted in it. Even with all that family money, Potter needed him to take care of his son.

There had been conditions. First, and most importantly, money. The same amount, every month, for every month that Harry stayed with them. The Dursleys were not a charity. That was by miles the easiest condition to accept. As if they weren't going to support Harry! The Potters were giving them much more than they'd asked for, even. They wanted Harry to be well taken care of after all. He wouldn't want for anything.

The second rule was that they (Lily and James) were to have absolutely nothing to do with them. No visits – ever. No freakish talking letters from freakish delivery owls. Nothing freakish at all. No contact of any sort. Lily had fought desperately just for the right to send her son gifts, and only then under a pseudonym from a distant relative – no freakish presents allowed.

The only connection they would have to him would be the occasional message from Petunia about Harry's well-being to a mailbox they had inherited from their parents.

Lastly, if Harry were going to be raised by the Dursleys, he would be a Dursley. Harry Dursley. The Potters weren't to have any claim to him whatsoever. Petunia had even made them forfeit any claim to their son under Ministry of Magic law because she didn't trust those freaks either. Petunia and Vernon had adopted her son and were raising him as their own son.

Lily had grown to hate Petunia in the last few months.

It wasn't the fact that she'd seen to it that Harry would never know about his real parents, or that she was doing it for money. Lily had expected as much.

No, Lily hated her sister because she'd stolen Harry from her. Her baby boy. Who was already sharing his toys and running around the garden laughing without a care in the world.

It was Petunia who got to feed and dress him. It was Petunia who got to spend her days with him. It was Petunia that Harry ran to when he was hurt or sad. It was Petunia who got to hug him and kiss him goodnight. It was Petunia whom he called 'mum'. Petunia had taken all that away from her.

She hated her sister because she was the one making Harry happy now. Because that made her hate herself for not being able to do it, and hate herself even more for hating her sister for making her son happy.

All Lily could do was spy on him from across the street. Petunia's letters were so vague, she had to see. She'd been doing it a lot lately. Whenever she got the chance really. She needed to know. Needed to know he was safe, and happy, and that it had been worth it.

It had started as just a check-up. Just to make sure Petunia was treating him right. The only thing worse than watching Harry treat another woman as his mother was worrying that he needed one.

By now, even Lily knew that it had developed into something of an obsession. He looked so much like James, but with her eyes, even with the new glasses framing them. It was hard to look at him, but impossible to look away.

She'd spend the day watching him through her Omnioculars and go home and play it back for her to watch all over again. She'd learned to read lips just to know what he was saying, though being a toddler, it was hard as he didn't articulate words well enough yet.

Today, he was combing through the garden, looking for any grass-dwelling creature he could get his hands on. Already, he'd found a dozen slugs, four worms, a couple of lost ants far away from their hill, and a large, blue beetle that had been the prize of his collection before it had flown away. In the last hour, he'd managed to fill a jar with seven spiders and was frantically trying to find an eighth.

After half an hour with no luck, she considered conjuring one for him.

"Lily."

The voice startled her out of her musings, and she almost dropped her Omnioculars. She recognized the voice, of course, her husband's.

Looking around for him, she couldn't see anyone. Realizing that he was under his cloak, she called it a day. She didn't wonder how he'd found her. He knew her better than anyone and could have easily guessed where she'd be, and her Disillusionment Charm was meant to fool Muggles, not an Auror.

"Alright. I'll see you at home."

With that, she disapparated, soon to be followed.

Back home, the two Potters stared each other down, each one preparing themselves for yet another argument.

"Lily, you have to stop doing this." James pleaded.

"Doing what?"

"Come on, Lily. Going to your sister's, you have to stop. What if she finds out, what then?"

She scoffed, "You might be able to see through the charm, but Petunia would never manage it, no Muggle could. Even if she somehow could, I'd just make her forget."

"Oh, you'd just make forget, would you? Just a quick Memory Charm on your Muggle sister 'cuz she caught you spying on her?"

"I wasn't spying on her, I was watching Harry!"

"This needs to stop, Lily. Look what it's doing to you," he gestured to the disheveled appearance of his wife. Bags had appeared around her eyes, she'd lost weight, her hair didn't shine like it used to, and she'd even gotten paler despite being outside more often. It had been hard on both of them, but the toll was hardest on her.

Lily didn't need to look at anything and bit back, "Well, I'm sorry if I haven't taken losing my son as gracefully as you have!"

Hurt and angry, James lashed out, "You think you care more about him than I do?! That I don't want to go take him away from your bitch sister and bring him home?! That it doesn't kill me every day to know I can't ever be with my son again?!"

Rose was bawling in the next room by now, having been woken up from a nap by her parents' yelling.

"I don't know what to think, you never tell me what you're thinking, you never seem to care about anything!" she screamed.

"One of us has to stay strong for Rose; we can't all go spend most of the day on rooftops!"

Scandalized, she almost drew her wand and hexed him, "How dare you even suggest I haven't been taking care of Rosie? I make sure she's fed, clean, and everything else, every hour of every day while you're off chasing shadows for Crouch!"

"I'm trying to catch the scum that helped kill my parents, the same people who want to kill our daughter, people like that slimy git of yours that started this whole mes-" a raging James was interrupted by an apoplectic Lily.

"Oh go on then, throw Severus in my face, will you!" she roared, "I'm sure you've been dying to bring that up for ages, haven't you? What about your best friend, James, huh? What about Sirius?!"

"He was your friend, too!"

"Yes, well, thanks for the introduction."

Before James could have the next word, all the lights in the house blew out and silenced them both. After the sound of broken glass clattering against the floor had finished echoing through the halls, the only thing that could be heard was Rose screaming. The parents, in the same instant, drew their wands and sprinted towards her nursery.

Bursting into the room, to find that besides a shattered lamp, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The two of them ran to Rose's crip, and Lily soon had the screeching toddler in her arms, patting on the back and cooing to her that everything would be all right. Neither of them needed long to figure out what had happened; Rose had a bout of accidental magic in response to them arguing.

With a wave of his wand, James fixed the lamp and went to Lily's side to give Rose a kiss. Eventually, the little girl calmed down enough that she stopped crying, only hiccoughing every once and a while, giving her parents time to relax.

"I watch him too... with my cloak... when I'm supposed to be at work," James admitted, somewhat ashamed and every bit conciliatory, "I miss him so much, Lily."

His wife snorted. That was just like him. With her free arm, she pulled him close and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I know you do," she agreed.

"It has to stop, Lily. If I could find you, so could a Death Eater. We can't let that happen."

"I know."

"I need you to swear it. A vow that you won't go looking for him again – I'll do it too," he pleaded. To keep Harry safe would have been more than enough for him to ask, but there was something else, too. He would have gladly lent her his cloak, but this was destroying them. They needed to let Harry go, let him be happy with the Dursleys, or it would tear their family apart entirely before it tore them apart altogether.

"Maybe I should." The way she said it didn't need to be explained. If she made a vow and broke it. She'd lose her magic. And then she could be with Harry.

It made James untangle himself from her in a fright, but thankfully, he could tell from the look on her face that she didn't really mean it. She couldn't. Not with Rose in her arms, but James needed to be sure.

"Then one of our children wouldn't have a mother."

With a sob, she grabbed James again and pulled him close. "I know. I know."

That night in bed, apologies were made, and the husband and wife exchanged a different set of vows. The highest peak in their struggle had been overcome. Now they were ready to start healing as a family and let Harry live his life as a normal boy.

If it were that simple, the child could go on to experience a life full of joy and fulfillment with a loving family.

Had the Potters lingered there that day at Privet Drive only a little while longer...

Because Harry Dursley did not find an eighth spider that day, but was instead found by a snake. And alas, Petunia was there for him to introduce her to his new friend.

Chapter Text

"Boy! Stop that right now!" Vernon Dursley screamed at the darkening figure.

The lights went out; in fact, all the electricity in the small cottage had gone out, and the Dursley family was left in the dark, even more than they already had been.

They had thought to escape the letters, and now the earth shook with rage.

"I'm not your boy," whispered Harry, his eyes turning pure white as his very shape became distorted.

No, not Harry.

The letter had finally reached him, even here somewhere as remote as this hut out on the sea.

Harry Dursley had always known he was adopted. Had always known he was a freak.

But the letter was a revelation indeed. A letter from a strange bank, a will.

A lady was dead. His grandmother. Walburga Black, so sayeth the letter.

In her will, she bequeathed all her earthly possessions and those of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to one Hydra Sirius Regulus Black.

To him.

Along with her last words. Regret at never having been able to raise him herself.

He was so... angry.

"Boy! Stop this freakishness at once! This instant!"

The earth shook again, and black smoke began to emit from his little frame.

They had lied to him all his life. Treating him as a lesser being, surviving only off of their charity. They had locked him away in the dark, isolated him, starved him, beaten him, hated him.

When someone had been out there, waiting for him the whole time, his real family.

How dare they?!

"Now boy! I said now!"

They had stolen him.

He felt the power surging in his veins; it hurt to keep it in.

"Please!" Petunia cried, as Dudley wailed.

"I'm warning you!" shouted Vernon again, pointing a rifle at the boy, heedless of the power building up within him.

It hurt. The pain, the pain of eight years alone being maligned as a freak of nature.

He could hear the echoes of whispers, children's voices crying out to be let loose.

There was the sound of a deafening bang as the weapon went off. The bullet dropped to the floor before it could reach him, clattering harmlessly off the stone.

They had filled him with so much hate, it was only right that now they'd be afraid of him.

He couldn't hold it back any longer.

He let it go.

A surge of black smoke erupted from him, consuming him.

It lashed out.

The hut was annihilated.

A tsunami of smoke and churning water from the outside storm blew it away like he was the big bad wolf.

In a mere matter of moments, the blackness had swept away all things present in a harrowing explosion which left him alone in a ruin.

Every living thing near him had died in an instant, down to the last louse hiding beneath the floorboards.

The Dursleys were... gone. He had made them go away.

Now he was all alone, but free.

Standing by himself as the rain pelted in the darkness, he wondered where he would go now.

"Fantastisch!" came an applauding voice, and Harry, no, Hydra turned his head to where it was coming from.

There in the shadows was a bald man in rags, slowly clapping deliberately, with one hand slowly patting the other.

The shadows lashed out again, but with a wave of his hand and a pointy stick, he blotted them away.

The whispers seemed to hush in fear, and he quaked with them.

"Exactly as the prophecy foretold. Such raw power!" exclaimed the man in a raspy, weathered voice, "Especially remarkable for one so young. Fantastic!"

Hydra trembled, "Who are you?"

The man in the shadows smiled. He approached him, and Hydra went to take a step back but tripped over the rubble. Vanishing the ruins with a flick of his hand, the man kept coming forward.

Hydra was in awe of the display.

He had accidentally performed similar feats over the years. Lengthening his hair, making things disappear, leaping great heights, setting fires, and tonight... but never anything so deliberate.

Now that he was closer, Hydra saw the man looked frail and skeletal, covered in wrinkles, with eyes that sunk into their sockets. He looked like he was a hundred years old.

"Fantastisch," whispered the man as he came closer. He reached out and pulled the glasses off of Hydra's face and crushed them beneath his feet.

Hydra cried out, "Hey!"

With a wave of his stick, a pain erupted in Hydra's eyes, and he fell to the ground in agony as everything went black.

Soon, though, the pain abated, and he saw that he could see again. Really see!

Looking around, he saw his reflection in a nearby puddle, and he did a double-take. Instead of his gleaming green eyes, staring back at him were a pair of striking grey orbs.

His hair was different too, gone was the unkempt tuft of hair, and long, lustrous black locks had taken their place. Even the shape of his face had changed.

"What did you do?" Hydra asked the man with trepidation.

"I restored your appearance to its original form," explained the man, "it seems someone wanted to hide you away."

Hydra gasped and repeated his previous question.

"Yes, you don't truly know about magic, do you?" snorted the old man, "Despite the destruction you've wrought with it."

"Magic?"

"Yes, magic, you Hydra, are a wizard."

He was stunned, but standing in the ruins of the hut and looking completely different than he had his entire life, he couldn't exactly argue.

"How do you know my name? My real name."

The man chuckled, "I have been waiting for you to make an appearance, Young Hydra. I have known about you for years now, and have been searching for you."

"Why? Why couldn't you find me?"

"There were spells hiding you away from even my sight. But now that those muggles made their escape, I could detect you. I've been watching you all day."

"How did the letters find me then?"

"Goblin magic."

"Goblins?"

"You have much to learn about our world, Hydra, and I am at last ready to teach you."

"Who are you?"

"You may call me Balthazar. Balthazar Bagshot."

"What do you want from me?" Hydra asked, full of fear.

"From you... nothing." The man chuckled again, "For you, everything I never had."

Hydra had nowhere else to go.

And this man, he was the first person like him he'd met.

He knew he wasn't supposed to trust strangers, but the most familiar people in the world had been horrible to him, so he made his choice.

He nodded.

The man smiled again and placed a hand on his shoulder.

They disapparated from the island with a pop, and for Hydra it was a disconcerting sensation.

Two of them appeared in an otherwise abandoned house.

Balthazar slipped a stick like his own into Hydra's hand, and a blistering glow emerged around him as the whispers of the children sang.

"Now, we begin, my little avenger."

Balthazar taught him so much. More than he realized was possible.

He told Hydra what he was. A wizard. More than that. An Obscurial. A being of immense power.

Apparently, it was unlikely that he would live past the age of ten. Though Hydra didn't think the children were trying to kill him.

Still, Balthazar believed in him, believed he would beat the poisoning effect and survive. He taught Hydra how to become a great wizard.

And so Hydra survived. He reached his tenth birthday with gusto.

He learned all manner of charms and curses, jinxes and hexes. He read all sorts of books on magic and the history of their world. Balthazar himself was a font of knowledge, and he gave freely.

The hardest lessons, though, came with Occlumency. The art of defending one's mind. Balthazar insisted he learn the obscure magic, as being an Obscurial, it would protect his mind from the poisoning effect, plus it would keep knowledge of what had happened to his 'relatives' a secret in case a Legilimens ever tried to assault him.

"Empty your mind," commanded Balthazar as he once more attempted to assail his shields, "Legilimens!"

Hydra was brought back to an old memory, the first time he had ever spoken to a snake, a common grass snake, and had introduced it to Petunia.

It was when she had learned he was magical. A freak.

He hated this memory.

He lashed out. The children lashed out. He invaded Balthazar's mind, and with his power, tore through his shields like they were nothing. He had no chance of occluding his own memories.

"Who will love you now, Dumbledore?" asked a wizard with an expression of despair on his face.

Hydra recognized the face of the man asking the question from one of his history books and could finally notice the similarities between his and Balthazar's.

It rocked him to the core.

Balthazar, no, that wasn't his name, managed to expel a shocked Hydra from his mind.

The man gave him a sad smile.

"You're-you're-" stammered Hydra.

"Yes," confirmed the man.

Grindelwald.

All this time. These last two whole years. Hydra had been tutored by the most infamous Dark Wizard in history. A man who had made the entire world shudder in fear.

"Before you judge me, Young Hydra, you must see why I did it."

Grindelwald used Legilimency against him, and this time Hydra couldn't keep him out, as he was seeing Grindelwald's memories.

The memories were familiar to Hydra as if they appeared out of a WW2 documentary. Only worse.

He watched as men in Nazi uniforms goosestepped through the Arc de Triomphe, as bombers soared above London during the Blitz. He saw soldiers die all across battlefields from barren deserts to snow-covered forests. He saw men collapse from heat exhaustion and watched women freeze to death. He saw soldiers being gunned down as they retreated from the front line and teenagers walking towards a noose for dereliction of duty, emaciated men marching endlessly, and children begging on the streets.

Then came the real horrors. Hydra tried to shut his eyes to it, but there was no escape from the visions. They came in droves. Grindelwald narrating each event, so there could be no mistaking the terrors.

Soldiers underneath the rising sun bayoneting pregnant women to save bullets, corpses being scalped, and teeth pried out of their skulls for trophies. Dresden's cathedral was burning and the Red Army horde was raping its way through Berlin, then came the suicides the next day.

"Such is the way of every war that has plagued mankind for eternity," Grindelwald told a sobbing Hydra, "now watch how the depravities of this conflict unfolded."

Again, Hydra recognized the woes of the Second World War. The Holocaust.

He saw shops being vandalized, teachers dragged out of their classrooms, and priests from their pulpits. People with disabilities being shuttled out of hospitals, and Romani camps being rounded up. He watched as families were hauled out of their beds at night, synagogues being plundered, and people, so many people being packed onto trains. He saw piles of clothes, of shoes, of eyeglasses, of gold teeth...

He saw slave workers eat grass to survive, he watched as mothers chose between their children, as families were torn apart.

He saw Lidice go up in flames, as dozens of children were herded onto gas vans and their little corpses were thrown out.

"Please, stop this... please!" Hydra begged.

"I tried to, and they called me the villain."

As the multitudes were forced into the showers naked, Hydra tried to flee, to run away from it all. He just found himself nestled in between the anguished cries.

He could only watch as the corpses were carted away for incineration.

Finally, a blinding light appeared, replaced by two mushroom clouds, and Hydra was left in the atomized ruins of a city.

"Please, please, please, please..." droned Harry as the snot and tears ran down his cheeks, having collapsed to his knees.

"More than seventy million souls perished in the No Maj's pestilential war. More than all the witches and wizards to have ever existed and countless Muggleborns were lost," explained Grindelwald as they watched carts full of corpses being shovelled into a mass grave, "I could have stopped it, so easily. A precious few spells cast on a select few Muggles, and the entire tragedy could have been averted."

"Instead, I was branded a 'Dark Wizard' and hunted across the world for breaking the law. The law meant to protect us from them."

Hydra could only sniffle and wipe at his face.

"At this very moment, there are wars like this happening all over the world. Families destroyed, or children just like you being shunned and locked away out of fear of your potential. And we would be the ones targeted if we attempted to save them."

They left the man's memories, and Gellert laid a hand on his shoulder and they disapparated away.

The two of them appeared in Rwanda, where a Civil War had begun only weeks prior.

"It will happen here again, soon. In a few years time, neighbour will slaughter neighbour, Muggle will kill Muggle over meaningless differences. Tens of thousands will be massacred. And Wizardkind will watch with indifference once again."

Hydra hiccoughed as he tried to catch his breath. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I understand..."

Gellert looked to him, looking even older than he usually did, "Do you?"

"Teach me. Teach me how to stop this."

Gellert and Hydra apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

"We will stop it together."

Sometimes he thought he was too sentimental. Times like these, when he glared at the bag of old dog food in the corner.

Of course, he had never owned a dog...

Still, he kept it around as a reminder of how things used to be. So he would never forget what his life was before Gellert had saved him. So he would never forget what it was like to be hungry. So he would never forget the taste.

It was the same logic that stopped him from healing the scar Petunia had left on his head with a frying pan.

Because Harry Dursley was a scared, starving little boy with only the hope of a better day to cling to.

Gellert had been that hope come to life.

Now, Hydra Black would be the brightest star, the most noble and ancient House of Black had ever produced.

Even if he preferred to go by Haitch or HB.

Despite the man's crimes, he couldn't help but empathize with the man. He was HB's tutor, and he loved him.

So what if his real father was in Azkaban, or that his horrid grandmother was now dead and only screamed at him from her portarit. Gellert and Kreacher were all he needed.

Taking a deep breath, he summoned his wand and pondered if he should just banish the dog food. But the scar itched, and he could feel the gravelly taste on his tongue, so he held off. Harry Dursley would stay dead, but could not be forgotten.

Instead, he flicked his wand at the gramophone and the Flower Duet began to play. Muggles were good for music if nothing else.

HB distrusted muggles; his experiences with the Dursleys had soured him. He didn't despise them like some Purebloods, and Gellert wanted to help them, to lead them and improve their lives with magic, so who was he to refuse his mentor? HB would see it done. He owed the man that much.

He relaxed to the music, leaned back, and popped a language lozenge in his mouth. He had already learned German, several other European languages, along with Latin, Ancient Egyptian, and Troll, so now he was working on his French.

"Master Hydra!" cried Kreacher as he appeared with a pop. The old house elf was devoted to him, and HB was glad to call him his friend.

"Yes, Kreacher?"

"A letter has arrived for master, from Hogwarts," explained the elf, passing an envelope to him.

HB read the cover, and it was indeed addressed to Hydra Sirius Regulus Black at Grimmauld Place, London.

"It's my acceptance letter," HB told a waiting Kreacher, "it seems we're going to have to go shopping."

Lily Potter waded through the adoring crowd with her husband and daughter in tow. She hated the publicity, but nothing could dampen her family's spirits today.

Rose was beaming in her Harpies jersey as she was finally getting ready to attend Hogwarts, as James looked on with pride. The two of them waded off together to look at the new brooms in stock as Lily proceeded to the Leaky Cauldron by herself.

Lily was not as happy as her daughter or husband. Despite her best efforts to be happy for her little girl, she couldn't help but mourn what she had lost.

Harry should've been with them today. Instead, he was... gone. Lost to the same rogue wave that had taken her sister and nephew.

Fate was a cruel bitch. They had sought to save Harry from the dangers of their world, and instead, they had lost him to Vernon Dursley's stupid Muggle vacation destination.

Yes, Lily was full of regrets. She regretted leaving her baby boy with her sister, for not visiting him more when she had the chance, and that she would never see her little man all grown up. So it was with a heavy heart that she made her way to the Leaky Cauldron.

She met Minerva there as what had become a tradition for the two of them, and together they went over how to integrate the Muggleborns coming to Hogwarts that year, as they had for years now. Minerva spoke glowingly of one studious young witch called Granger, who would be attending this year and had difficulty making friends, so Lily promised she'd introduce her to Rose.

"Lily..." Minerva began hesitantly, "I'm afraid I have to warn you of something."

She had an idea what it might be, but she let her colleague continue.

"As you're aware, the children of many Death Eaters will be attending Hogwarts this year," Minerva explained.

Lily nodded.

"I feel it is only prudent that you be aware of one in particular, the son of Sirius Black, will be starting school with Rose."

She sat there stunned and could only ask, "Sirius had a son?"

"Evidently. One Hydra Black."

Life was not fair. Sirius did not deserve to have a son when she had lost hers.

And there was fear in her, too. Of course, she had known that the children of Death Eaters would be attending Hogwarts with her daughter, but their parents had been forced to renounce Voldemort after his demise and were living on the good graces of the Ministry.

Sirius was in Azkaban, and had been for a decade. Whatever son he had would have been left fatherless, and if her suspicions that it was Marlene's son, too, without a mother. Raised by the House of Black, that cesspit.

She even expected a grudge to be held against her and Rose.

He would only be a boy, and basically unversed in magic, so no real threat. But he would be there for years, learning every minute to become a better wizard. If he were dark, her daughter could be in real danger. What if they were sorted into the same house? Sirius had been a Gryffindor after all.

"Thank you, Minerva," Lily told her peer and mentor, then took her leave to find her family. She would have to warn them; it was not a conversation she was looking forward to.

Life was not fair.