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Harry laid curled up in the fetal position in his cupboard, wishing that the pain would go away. His entire torso was a watercolor painting of purples and greens. Uncle Vernon did a very good job at beating him that evening. All because the bruises that he had left the day before weren’t vivid enough. Last night, Harry had wished the throbbing in his torso would go away. He felt a warmth, which he knew meant his wish was coming true, and tried to tamp it down. It didn’t work, hence the new beating he received a few hours ago.
All he wanted was for sleep to carry him off. He learned early on in his life that the pain disappeared while he was unconscious. If only he could reach that state. A tingling began running up and down his arms, as if they were falling asleep. He tried to rub at them but that made it worse. He knew that it was his freakishness trying to make an appearance, like it did last night. And he couldn’t let it out. If he did, the abuse he would suffer would only increase. What if his uncle decided that bruises weren’t enough? Since he could obviously heal himself, breaking a bone or two shouldn’t be the end of the world for him to fix.
Harry didn’t want to test that theory tomorrow. He would deal with the pain along his ribcage and the tingling along his arms. He would fall asleep eventually, and due to his efforts, he would still be bruised enough that Vernon wouldn’t want to add onto the portrait he already had as a way to teach him a lesson. His hands hurt so much though; he needed them to go numb so he could try and get some rest. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished for his hands to stop hurting. Of course it didn’t work.
When he opened his eyes, which was a bit pointless in a dark cupboard, he noticed that his hands had a soft red light surrounding them. He suddenly had a new wish: for them to stop glowing. If his aunt were to wake him up tomorrow and see his hands, he would be in so much trouble. And he definitely wouldn’t be allowed to go to school, the one place where he didn’t have to deal with any of his family. He sat up, grimacing as his tender torso protested the movement, and frantically waved them around, trying to shake the glow off of them. When that was unsuccessful, he tried wiping his hands on the ratty blanket. Neither of them worked.
“Stop it!” he exclaimed, staring intently at his hands. Harry very much did not want to be a freak, but his hands were betraying him. Freaks shouldn’t be seen or heard. Freaks don’t get to eat with other people. Freaks are supposed to clean, cook, and do the gardening. The more he whispered at his hands, begging them to stop glowing, the more intense the light got, growing into a deeper red with each passing second. And the tingly sensation began to travel up his arms and into his torso, until it felt like his entire body was a fizzy drink.
Harry looked at his hands, which were still cast in a deep burgundy light. The light, the pain, it was becoming too much. He had to let it out. He dove into his thin mattress, not wanting to accidentally wake the Dursleys. With his mouth firmly biting the mattress, he let out an unearthly scream.
*****
Albus Dumbledore placed a piece of parchment listing the agenda of the next Wizengamont session off to the side. He would look it over first thing tomorrow. It was late; even the astronomy classes were done for the night. He stood up from his desk, ready to head off to bed, when one of the metal instruments that laid scattered across his desk began to spin. The metal contraption appeared to be a fancy muggle anemometer, although it didn’t measure wind, but uncontrolled magic. It spinning wasn’t all that unusual, seeing as it was connected to a wizard child, and they were prone to accidental magic. However, instead of stopping after a few minutes, as was the norm, it kept spinning, steadily increasing in speed.
The headmaster stood in front of the desk, transfixed by the instrument’s reading. He held his wand out, ready to cast a spell to reveal its output data as soon as it stopped. Then, another instrument that was like a tuning fork, except wider, began to vibrate.
It was never supposed to do that.
It meant that something had breached the wards.
Something Dark.
Albus called Fawkes to him, and in a halo of golden light, he was transported outside of 4 Privet Drive. The sight that greeted him was one he had only seen twice before. He fell to his knees in the front lawn, trying to conjure up a few good memories so he could send off three patronuses. All he could do was stare at the swirling black mass and try not to get lost in his own past.
*****
Amelia Bones was ready to go home after working a double shift in the Aurors department. She was exhausted due to a raid on Knockturn along with all the paperwork that came with it. Only 15 more minutes, and she would be able to slide into bed for some much deserved sleep. She rubbed at her eyes as she proofread her report, but she knew it was more to kill time than to actually check for spelling and grammar mistakes. Rufus would have to wait for the report until she returned, or have someone else proofread it for her.
She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head. She noticed a patronus flying above the cubicles, and as it came closer, she realised it was Albus’s. She hadn’t received one from him since the war ended, and even then, he only used it in the gravest of circumstances.
She stood up to greet the phoenix, and out poured Albus’s voice. “Something terrible has occurred in the house that Harry Potter resides in. Please come to 4 Privet Drive in Surrey at your earliest convenience.”
The phoenix disappeared, its blue light melting into wisps. Amelia followed suit, turning on her feet while thinking of the address. With a crack, she landed next to the kneeling figure of Albus Dumbledore.
“Are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I haven’t been injured. This comes as a shock to an old wizard like me, is all.” Albus glanced her way and he appeared to be a few centuries older than he actually was. There was no twinkle in his eyes and his wrinkles were more pronounced than usual.
Amelia took in her surroundings, and immediately identified what the issue was. “Is that…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t want to speak what she knew to be true into existence.
Albus nodded, and in a somber tone replied. “It’s an obscurial formerly known as Harry Potter.”
“I need to call for backup! We need an entire squad to deal with this!” Amelia raised her wand, ready to call for backup to help deal with the roiling black cloud that was currently consuming the house in front of them.
The headmaster shook his head. “There’s no need for that.”
“No need! Are you insane! This is a muggle neighborhood. This is a multi-department issue! Aurors, Oblivator Squad, Office of Accidental Magic Reversal Office, Muggle Worthy Excuse Office, the Magical Child Protection Unit, along with the Muggle Liaison Office!” Amelia absent-mindedly rattled off as she formulated what to say in her bulletin. “We need someone from every one of these departments, and I need them here now!”
“You can’t kill an Obscurus while they are in this form. You have to wait for them to calm down and become a child once again.”
“Who said anything about killing Harry?” she snapped, internally appalled that Albus would suggest it first. “What can we do to get this,” she gestured towards the black tornado in front of them, “to go away so we can help Harry?”
“I’ve been here for a bit longer than you, and the Obscurus hasn’t deviated at all. All of the magic is focused only on this house. It’s remarkable how much control Harry still has despite the raw, dark energy leaching out of him.” Albus was obviously fascinated by the tragedy that was playing out in front of them.
Before Amelia could form a response to what he said, there were the twin cracks of Apparition.
*****
Minerva landed in the exact same area she did when Albus asked her to patrol nearly nine years ago. Back then, her grief felt insurmountable. Tonight, its depths rivaled that. She stalked towards her employer, and her Scottish brough was thick as she laid into him. “What did I tell you all those years ago! They are the worst type of muggle, and there’s your proof!” She flung her arms towards the black cloud. “Look at what you’ve done! My heart aches for the lad!”
Severus, in an departure from his stoic front, wrapped an arm around her shoulder to show his support. When she glanced up at him, she noticed his face held a mask of careful indifference.
“Amelia,” Minerva began after she finished betrating Albus, “what is the plan?”
“I wanted to call in an entire Auror squad, but he,” she pointed to the headmaster, “vetoed me.”
“And why wouldn’t you do the proper thing, which is contacting the authorities?” Severus inquired.
“Harry here is a young obscurial. I’m sure if we can prove to Harry that he belongs, then he can be saved.”
“Albus, Harry isn’t there anymore. We need reinforcements. Amelia, go get all the help you can spare.” Minerva’s voice was cold and authoritative.
The Auror didn’t need to be told twice. She apparated back to the Ministry to get help.
The headmaster shook his head. “You’re making a grave mistake. All Harry needs is some rehabilitation and to talk things out with his family. I’ll speak to Petunia after this and straighten some things out. Then everything will be alright.”
Severus scoffed. “Potter would’ve been better off with a group of street urchins than leaving him with Petunia. She hated Lily and she hated magic. The last thing he would need is more time with her.” He turned towards the headmaster. “Why exactly did you summon me here?”
“With your extensive foraries into the dark arts, I thought you would be the best person for the job. Go see if you can break through the Obscurial to the boy himself.”
Once Severus was farther away from them, Minerva began berating Albus once more. “You don’t get to control where Harry is placed!”
“On the contrary, I have full control. I am his magical guardian after all.”
She gasped when he told her, shock running down her spine like a cube of ice. “You’ve done an absolute bang-up job of it! How did you not notice he was suppressing his magic during your visits? Or that his home life was so poor?”
“I haven’t seen Harry since he was a baby. Petunia asked me to stay away from them, in order to give them space and not draw attention. But I have multiple instruments in my office that keep track of the wards here. As soon as they went off tonight, I came. And when I realised I couldn’t handle it myself, I requested backup, as any reasonable wizard would do,” Albus genially explained.
“No, you were decidedly not reasonable, Albus! You broke the law over 100 times; one that I know you know since you were Supreme Mugwump when you voted for it! Magical guardians must check in at least once a month with their charge while they live with Muggles. You’re ignorance and indifference may very well have killed Harry Potter. And mark my words, if he manages to survive this ordeal, I will be at the top of the list of people campaigning for you to no longer be Harry’s magical guardian.” Minerva’s voice shook towards the end with righteous fury, and the air between the two glowed gold before dissipating. Magic saw her heart, and knowing what she said was true, turned it into a vow.
*****
Harry was scared. Very scared. He didn’t know where he was. There was darkness surrounding him on all sides, but it was different than when he was in his cupboard. He could stretch, and yet he didn’t touch anything. Then again, he couldn’t feel much. Not the throbbing of his ribs, not his arms in the breeze. It was almost like he didn’t exist at all, which was absurd.
The one thing he did feel, however, was anguish. It felt as if all of the pain and rage he held inside himself for so long had been released all at once. He no longer cared about trying to stay quiet. His pain demanded to be heard. So he howled and screamed, hoping that somebody, anybody, would hear it and acknowledge what he felt. He would even take his aunt or uncle, if only so they would bear witness to a fraction of hurt they caused him.
He didn’t know how long he screamed until he could hear something beyond his own thoughts. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but it sounded comforting. It reminded him of drifting off to sleep in his cupboard as a little kid, pretending the bedtime story his aunt read to Dudley was secretly for him instead. He focused in on the sound, straining to see or hear anything beyond the whirling blackness that surrounded him. Within a few minutes, Harry thought that the wind wasn’t whipping around as fiercely as it had before. And the absolute blackness that surrounded him was also slowly dissipating.
He could see snippets of things beyond the shroud of darkness, like glimpses through the crack of his cupboard door. It appeared to be Privet Drive. Was he outside? Maybe he had unconsciously unlocked his cupboard door like he did before when his relatives refused to feed him for a few days. But instead of sneaking into the pantry, he’d sleep walked out to the garden instead.
That didn’t sound right, but Harry didn’t have another explanation, other than he was dreaming. But as the wind continued to die down, the melodic chanting that first caught his ear only grew louder. He also began to feel more real. Where before he was whisps of air floating in the eye of a hurricane, his limbs felt heavy, as if there were sand bags tied to each of them.
He followed the voice, and felt more than saw himself float lower and lower. The black smoke was dissipating now, and he could see that he was in the air above the front lawn of Privet Drive. There was a collection of people in weird floor length dresses on the ground. One dressed in tartan was waving her arms at a man who wore bright violet robes with gold shooting stars that were actually moving. A collection of four or five people wearing burgundy robes were farther down the street, near Magnolia Crescent. And finally, there was a man in head to toe black waving a stick around. A comforting, butter yellow strand shot out from the end of his stick, and appeared to be attacking the cloud he was currently trapped in.
The closer to the ground he got, the easier it was to hear what the one man was saying. He wasn’t speaking English, but whatever he said made Harry relax. The cadence of the man’s chanting was reminiscent of a lullaby, and he found himself ready to fall asleep. His bare feet hit the grass, and he stumbled despite his controlled descent. The weird cloud had completely dissipated, as far as he could tell. He tried to turn around to double check, but he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He glanced up and saw it was the chanting man’s.
“Hold still. I need to check you over,” he insisted in a gravelly tone.
“I’m really tired. Can this wait until morning?”
The man waved his wand. “I’m afraid it cannot.”
Harry felt a coldness slide through him, like the time Dudley dropped a snow ball down the back of his shirt. He wanted to wiggle about, if only to get away from the sensation, but he held himself still.
“How are you feeling? Do you have any pain?”
Harry gave himself a mental once-over. His ribs didn’t hurt anymore! He wanted to pull up his ratty t-shirt, if only to see if all of his bruises had faded away. However, he knew better than to do it in front of a stranger. The last thing he needed was to get his uncle in trouble. If he couldn’t live with the Dursleys, then no one would take him. He’d be placed in an orphanage for sure!
“Really, all I am is tired, sir. Are you sure I can’t go back to bed?”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter. Here,” the man dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small bar of chocolate. “Eat this. It’ll give you a bit of energy and make you feel better.”
The man stared at him, and he hesitantly took the proffered chocolate. He unwrapped it and nibbled on a corner. Warmth flooded into him, and he grinned up at the man. “Thank you.”
The man didn’t acknowledge his gratitude and instead began walking away. “If you would follow me, there is someone who would like to speak to you.”
*****
Severus’s night had already been a long one. The urgent Patronus that Albus had sent him came at a time he was usually preparing for bed. Couple that with having to contain the Obscurial currently attached to Harry Potter, which could apparently be successfully fought with the Sectumsempra counter curse, and the ensuing attachment the boy had made to him, he was ready to go to bed. Of course, he wouldn’t be allowed to just yet. After spending the past two hours with the saviour of the wizarding world glued to him while being checked out at St. Mungo’s, only able to leave after the boy had entered a potion-infused sleep, he was done with people tonight.
Dumbledore had other plans, calling for him via Floo almost as soon as he had entered his quarters. He didn’t have time nor the energy to talk in circles with his boss. There was barely five hours left until he had to teach Potions to a group of second years. Still, he didn’t outworldly protest, entering the Floo and arriving in the Headmaster’s office.
“Please make our discussion short. I do have classes to teach in a few hours,” He said as he sat down in a chair.
“Of course, my dear boy. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m done making small talk.” In reality, Severus felt like he was run over by a school of hippogriffs; the spell took a lot of magical energy to maintain and he had chanted it for almost 15 minutes.
“Very well. Have you made a statement with the Aurors yet?”
“No, I haven’t. Potter stayed attached to me the entire time I was at St. Mungo’s until he fell asleep.”
Dumbledore gave him a light smile at that proclamation, a bit of a twinkle entered his eyes. “That’s wonderful news, Severus!”
“And why is that?”
“Because, you’ll probably be found to be the best suited for taking over as Harry Potter’s guardian!”
Severus couldn’t hide the shock that was evident on his face. He closed his jaw. “I hate children. In fact, I’m their most feared professor!”
“I think that Harry bonded with you tonight, and that will play an important role in the upcoming hearings.”
“Do you think you’ll get jail time? Is that why you’re creating new plans?”
Dumbledore shook his head. “Nothing that dire. I suppose I’ll be asked to step down as headmaster at least. If that comes to fruition, Minerva will become Headmistress, and Flitwick will be Deputy Headmaster.”
“Why are you telling me all of this? Aren’t you at all concerned that Harry Potter is an obscurial?”
“Of course I am concerned. However, I believe with enough interference, he can be cured. All we have to do is show him that he is loved.”
Severus couldn’t help but viciously disagree. “That is preposterous! No one has ever cured an obscurial!”
“No one has ever counteracted an obscurus in their non-corporeal form, yet you managed to do that tonight. That makes you the perfect candidate for Harry’s guardian.”
Severus folded his arms across his chest. “And I still say that my very well know dislike for children, and especially any Potter spawn, does not.”
“Ah, but don’t forget, Harry is Lily’s son too.” As if he could forget those vibrant green eyes staring at him as he slowly descended from the sky, the house behind him completely obliterated. The Aurors hadn’t found any survivors in the wreckage, not that Severus expected them to.
Dumbledore continued speaking, “Besides, you made a vow to protect Harry. Becoming his guardian is the best way to watch over him while also preparing for what lies ahead.”
Severus bit back a groan. He would definitely need a headache draught before going to sleep tonight. “Not this about the prophecy again! The Dark Lord is dead! My Mark remains as inert as it has since the day Lily died.”
“I know you don’t wish to believe me, but Voldemort will return. And when he does, we must be ready. You know what it says. Power that the Dark Lord knows not. Harry being an obscurial may be in reference to that line.”
“No wizard who had an obscurial, even if it was removed, lived a long life. Yet you insist on raising him for something that won’t even happen.”
“Isn’t a good half life better than none at all?”
Severus stared at his employer, disgusted with the man before him. “You’re perfectly fine with raising him like a pig for the slaughter?”
“His magic will eventually kill him. Isn’t it better that he die a saviour rather than a villian?”
Severus seethed on the inside. Without a word, he stood up and went to the fireplace. Tossing in a pinch of Floo powder, he went back to his quarters. His mind was made up. He would do anything he could to keep Dumbledore away from the Potter boy.