Chapter Text
The Babysitter
A Few Years Ago
The manor smelled faintly of roses and lavender perfume, trailing behind Lily as she stood before the tall mirror.
She adjusted her earring with a careful hand as she admired her appearance. It was a welcome change from the rough cotton and leather of combat robes and jackets. It was a dark black that stood in perfect contrast to her blazing hair and vivid green eyes even as it hugged her form.
The doorbell rang.
Without turning from the mirror, she called out, “Charlie, get the door, darling.”
“Got it, Mum!” came the cheerful reply.
Charlie, barely seven, was struggling to carry a gurgling baby Harry in his arms. “ol’ still, pixie,” he muttered playfully. Harry let out a laugh, grabbing a fistful of his brother’s collar. Charlie set him down gently on a nearby cushion, gave his hair a tousle, then sprinted toward the door with the exuberance only a child could muster. He flung it open, already grinning.
“Uncle Moony!”
Remus looked like he had just come directly from the trenches of a war. As haggard as he was, even he managed to put up a smile at seeing his godson.
“Merlin’s beard, look at you!” Remus exclaimed as he picked the boy and placed him on his lap. “You’ve grown another foot. And is that a freckle I see? Right there?”
Charlie laughed again and wiggled in protest. Just as Remus entered, James descended from the stairs to greet him.
“Bloody hell, Moony. You look like you wrestled a troll,” he said, stepping forward. “Are you sure you’re up for this? We can reschedule. Maybe find another sitter.”
“I’m fine,” Remus replied quickly, gently lowering Charlie to the floor. “Just tired. Long journey, that’s all.”
James didn’t look convinced. He stepped closer, resting a hand on Remus’s shoulder. Then, seeing Charlie leaning in with curious eyes, he covered the boy’s ears and leaned in.
“I’m not comfortable leaving the house right now,” he said in a low voice. “The killings are getting worse. They struck a family in Inverness last night. Whole place burned.”
Remus solemnly nodded. “I know. But you need this, Prongs. Both of you do.”
Before James could argue further, Lily entered, the soft rustle of her dress drawing their attention.
“We’re not vanishing off to some dark alley, James,” she said. “It’s just a reunion in Hogsmeade. Aurors have the entire village on lockdown. If there’s anywhere safe tonight, it’s there.”
Remus gave a low whistle. “You look stunning, Lily. Truly.”
Lily smiled, brushing an invisible crease from her gown. “Thank you, Remus. And thank you for coming. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
Remus waved it off. “Anything for you two. Besides, I’ve missed these little monsters.”
He reached over and lifted baby Harry into his arms, settling him on his lap. Harry blinked up at him, then reached forward to tug Remus’s worn lapel with a delighted squeal.
James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Fine. Just be careful. And if anything—”
“I’ll firecall you the second something seems off,” Remus said, gently bouncing Harry on his knee.
James nodded and turned toward the hall. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
A Few Hours Later
The night sky rippled with an orange glow on the horizon that cast an ominous shadow on the grinning skull with snake for a tongue. Lily and James paused their jog to look at. Their cottage. The cottage where Remus was babby sitting their children had a dark mark over it. Without panicking or even exchaning a look, they broke out in a free sprint.
They Apparated with a crack into the front garden just as the east wing exploded in a roar of flame. The force of it knocked them back, Lily stumbling on her heels, James catching her just before she hit the ground.
The house was engulfed. Flames poured out of the windows like the tongues of dragons. The air stank of oil and magic, warped and wrong.
Dumbledore arrived behind them, robes flapping in the wind, wand already drawn.
“Back,” he ordered, his voice hard and clear even through the roar of fire.
Lily ignored him and raced toward the porch, wand outstretched.
“Aguamenti!” she cried, again and again, streams of water hissing into steam before they ever touched the blaze. “Aguamenti!”
The fire laughed at her. It grew taller.
Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, the heat rippling his beard.
“This is no ordinary fire,” he called out over the crackling. “It is cursed. Fiendfyre.”
James’s eyes widened. “What? Who—?”
“Later,” Dumbledore barked. “I will deal with this. You two, go around. Find Remus. Find the children.”
Saint Mungos
Sirius whirled through the hospital as if the hounds of hell were at his heels. Several nurses were harassed as he tried to find the ward where his friends were. He spotted, James sitting on a chair looking like a man deceased. Without thought, he ran forward and embraced him.
James didn’t reciprocate except for a stiff nod.
“What happened?” he asked. “I came as soon as I heard. I-- What happened?”
James swallowed hard, blinking as if he hadn’t done it in a while.
“There was a Death Eater attack,” he said in a hoarse voice. “They targeted the cottage.”
Sirius’s breath caught. “Merlin. Lily? The kids?”
“They’re fine,” James said quickly. “Remus got them out. He… he didn’t make it.”
Sirius flinched like he’d been struck. He shook his head once, then again, as if trying to ward off the words. A tremor passed through him, and he clenched his jaw to keep it steady.
“He’s dead?”
James nodded.
“He held the corridor. The kids were behind him. The emergency portkey should have worked, but it triggered late. They were almost caught.”
“Why?” Sirius asked. “Why didn’t it work?”
James looked at him, lost. “I don’t know. It was tested. Dumbledore checked it. It should have been instantaneous.”
Sirius stood and paced a few steps before turning back, eyes sharp with suspicion now.
“Where was Peter?”
James looked up slowly.
“I don’t know.”
“He wasn’t with you?”
“No. He was supposed to come check the wards. Said we needed to abandon the manor entirely. Said we should hide in plain sight. He’s been saying it for weeks.”
Sirius’s face twisted in fury.
“He was the one who insisted on that portkey. Who pushed for the switch. Who said the estate was too dangerous.”
James stood now too, a cold clarity settling over him.
“He knew the layout. He knew Remus would be staying behind. He knew everything.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Sirius said it.
“It was him. Peter. He’s the traitor. For fuck’s sake, past six months we have been prodding moony. Thinking it was him and now he gave his life for the kids…….Fuck!”
James nodded tearfully at that.
Lily poked her head outside. “He is ready to talk. I will get Albus.”
She then walked outside without making eye contact with the duo. A few moments Albus appeared. He opened his lips to address the duo, but couldn’t form the proper words to do so. Without further delays they walked into the room.
Charlie was sitting on the bed, glaring at the green sheets as if they had been the cause of the attack.
Lily sat beside the bed, brushing a damp cloth along his brow. “Charlie, can you tell us what happened?”
Charlie didn’t look at her. He ground his jaw as if tasting something truly vile before spitting it out, “The stupid squib got Uncle Moony killed.”
James stepped forward. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Charlie growled, not backing down in the slightest, “Harry got him killed.”
Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “Charlie, slow down. What are you talking about?”
Charlie’s voice rose. “He’s a squib! A bloody squib! That’s why the portkey didn’t work!”
Lily’s eyes flashed, and she placed a hand gently on his arm. “Charlie, don’t call him that. Harry is your brother.”
Charlie shook her hand off. “No. He’s not. Not really. Uncle Moony activated the portkey just like we planned. It was supposed to pull all of us out. And it did. It grabbed him and me instantly. It started to pull us away.”
He stopped, eyes burning with guilt.
“But it didn’t take Harry. It glitched. It snapped him back. Like it couldn’t lock on. Uncle Moony noticed first. He shoved me forward into the spell before it collapsed. Then it was just him and Harry left.”
James stepped closer, his voice low. “And then?”
“Dolly got there,” Charlie muttered. “She started Apparating us out. One by one. It was chaos. Harry kept crying and kicking. Wouldn’t sit still. Wouldn’t shut up. Slowed everything down.”
He looked at James now.
“If he wasn’t there, Uncle Moony would still be alive.”
Lily reached for his hand again, but Charlie pulled away.
“I hate him,” he whispered. “I hate him for it.”
“I think, young Charlie has had quite the night. He will benefit from a night’s sleep,” Dumbledore said, putting an end to any discipline that James or Lily might have metted out that night. There had been enough fighting this day.
The Monolith
A Few Years Later
The auditorium pulsed with the low murmur of anticipation as rows of scholars, journalists, and wide-eyed students packed the marble-floored conference hall. This was an epoch defining moment for their field after decades of being in the shadow of the tech and finance sector.
The lead panelist, Dr. Mariana, let the energy and anticipation wash over her. It felt glorious. With a click of the remote, the vaunted image appeared on the projector wall. The image revealed a colossal black monolith, ten meters tall and smooth as obsidian, rising from the bedrock of what had once been dismissed as a simple hill.
“This structure predates Göbekli Tepe by thousand years,” she said. “Preliminary dating suggests it is over twenty thousand years old. Older than any temple, older than any known city, and entirely untouched by time.”
Shocked gasps turned into whispers.
“This is not merely an anomaly,” she continued. “This is a paradigm shift. A suggestion that humanity may have built in stone, written in cipher, and worshipped in silence long before our first ‘civilizations’ ever rose from the dust.”
A few people started taking pictures and she scowled in annoyance at being disrupted. Taking a few deep breaths, she continued.
“The monolith’s surface bears inscriptions unlike any known proto-writing. It exhibits tool markings requiring precision beyond what we previously believed achievable by Paleolithic cultures.”
A hand shot up in the second row, shaking with fervor. Marta ignored it and pressed on.
“There is strong reason to believe this structure is not only ceremonial, but astronomical in orientation. If so, it suggests cognitive complexity and social organization far exceeding any model in current use. In short, civilization may be far, far older than we ever imagined.”
“LIAR! DECEIVER!” A voice screeched. “THEY’RE LYING TO YOU!”
The others whirled in shock to see the rude interrupter. The speaker, gaunt and wild-eyed, pushed his way into the central aisle. His coat was torn, and his shoes did not match. His hair stuck out in uneven tufts, as though war had been declared on grooming.
“That thing in the desert is not human! It’s not ours!”
Marta’s jaw tightened. Other panelists exchanged looks, some amused, some exasperated.
“It was planted!” the man continued. “By things older than bones! Creatures of cruel fiber optics and cold metal, without mercy and without hunger! They have no hearts since they ate their Gods!. No meaning! They built it as a beacon! And now you’ve dug it up!”
A nervous laugh swept through the upper balcony. Phones began to record.
The man’s voice climbed. “We are not alone. We have never been alone. The monolith is a prison key! The monster sleeps on Mars, but if you don’t destroy it, it will wake and devour the system! You fools, you stupid, smiling fools!”
“Ah, and here he is. Mister Ericson. Once the brightest mind in pre-dynastic lithography. Now, apparently, a prophet of doom,” Mariana said, and the audience immediately burst out into laughter, lowering the tension.
She turned to the guards. “I knew this would happen. Be a lad, dearies and ensure the good man outside, won’t you?”
As the guards approached, Ericson hissed and backed away, clutching an old leather satchel. “You’re laughing now,” he said, voice low and bitter. “But when God of stars and merciless logic awakes and eats the solar system – you will know I was right!”
“Goodbye, Ericson. Hope to see you again never.”
The doors closed behind him with a heavy thud. Murmurs resumed. Slides continued.
The Squib
The manor had never looked as beautiful as it did right now. The afternoon sun contrasting perfectly with last night’s rain cast an idyllic, fantasy view of the entire estate. Sunlight spilled across the rain-soaked grounds, turning every blade of grass into glass and gold.
Birds had returned to the hedgerows, singing as if there hadn’t been hundreds of bodies on the roads only two days before. For a moment, the estate looked untouched by war, as if it still belonged to a time when magic was just wonder, and not a weapon.
Thankfully, Friday had bought a lull to the fighting. It was as if even the Dark Lord wanted to bask in the sun’s warm, radiant ray after last night’s thunderstorm and bloodshed. Unfortunately, the eldest Potter child’s thirst for sadism hadn’t been excised by last nights events. The birdsong was punctured by the shrieks of a young boy and the jeers of the rest.
“Please, Charlie! Let me down!” Harry cried, his voice thick with anguish. “I’m not a squib! I’m not! Promise!”
“Oh shut it, doofus. I haven’t ever seen you do magic. You’re as a magical as a muggle’s sock!” Charlie shouted back as he raised his wand ever higher, in response Harry gained altitude as he was dangled by his ankle.
“Go on, Charlie!” Fred called, tossing a blade of grass into the air. “Shake him harder! Maybe you’ll shake some magic out of him!”
“Yeah!” George added. “It got Ronniekins to sputter some magic, I bet we can do the same to squib here!”
Harry’s hands flailed, clutching at the air as if he could pull himself upright. His tears fell freely now, dripping onto the grass below. “I’m not a squib!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation. “I’ll show you! I’ll— I’ll do something, I swear!”
Charlie rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “You’ve been saying that for years, Harry. Face it, you’re a dud. A Potter with no magic—how embarrassing. A disgrace to Potters everywhere!”
“No!” Harry wailed and George whispered something in Charlie’s ear and he smiled wickedly.
“Tell you what, squib. I will give you a chance to prove yourself.”
Harry sniffled, craning his neck to look at Charlie with a hopeful look.
“I am going to drop you.” Charlie said and the color faded from Harry’s face. “If you manage to save yourself, you’re a wizard. Else, we wipe the disgrace from our family.”
Harry tried to protest, but Charlie pretended not to listen and let go.
“NOOO!!!!!!!” Harry screamed as he plummeted to his certain death before something forcefully grabbed him by the navel, arresting his fall so violently it felt like his insides twisted. He slammed to a stop, mere centimeters away from the ground.
For a moment Harry wondered if his magic had finally come to before reality came crashing down on him.
Gasping for breath, he turned his head and saw Charlie standing nearby, wand still in hand.
Charlie had saved him. Harry rolled over and retched in the grass.
Charlie scoffed and turned away. “Pathetic squib,” he muttered.
Fred and George burst into laughter as they followed him, leaving him weepy and in his own muck. After a while, Harry picked himself and muttered, “Dolly.”
There was a soft pop, and an old house-elf with wild grey hair and a deep frown appeared before him. Her large eyes widened the moment she took in the sight of him.
“Oh sweet stars, Master Harry,” Dolly gasped, reaching forward with trembling hands. “What happened to you?”
Harry looked down at himself, mud-caked and crusted with dried vomit, and gave a weak laugh. “I was trying to play Quidditch,” he said. “I, um... I puked.”
Dolly snorted, crossing her arms. “If that isn’t the worst lie I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard Lord Charlie claim he has a good explanation for why some of his socks are so crusty.”
Harry winced and looked away. “Can we just go inside?”
She clicked her tongue but nodded, wrapping a warm arm around his shoulder as she led him into the manor. In the kitchen, she set to work. With a few quick spells and a wet cloth, she cleaned the dirt and sick off him, then handed over a set of soft pajamas that still smelled faintly of lavender and mothballs.
When he was dressed again, she knelt down to fix his collar and looked him dead in the eye.
“Was it Master Charlie?”
Harry’s face turned pink. He rubbed his arm and muttered, “I don't wanna talk about it.”
Dolly stared at him for a long beat, then muttered something sharp and fast under her breath, words not meant for polite ears.
“I’ll see to it,” she said. “Mistress Lily and Master James will hear about this. You have my word.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Dolly, no—”
“No, it’s high time somebody stepped up to this. Mistress Lily be busy with….workings, yes jobs, but a family is still being a family.”
She said and trailed off, leaving Harry standing there alone.
Later that night, the front doors creaked open and in stepped James and Lily, looking like ghosts of themselves. Dirt clung to their robes and fresh scars crisscrossed their faces and arms. Neither of them said much. They ignored the dining room entirely. Lily only muttered for Charlie to order something in for himself and for Harry too, before disappearing up the stairs with James limping beside her.
Harry paused, he had been hoping to talk to them about Charlie for an entire month. Lily and James left early in the morning and appeared late in the evenings. He had been unable to get a single word in for months. He hovered in the corridor outside their room. He knew they were angry, exhausted, bleeding from another outing. Harry pouted at that. They never told him why they were gone for so long and for what purpose. Even Charlie refused to tell him what was happening that required mom and dad to leave them alone for weeks on end.
Still, curiosity tugged at him harder than caution. He crept to the doorframe and peered through the narrow crack.
Lily knelt beside the bed, her wand lighting the room in soft white as she peeled away bloodied bandages from James’s chest and switfly replaced them.
“You idiot,” she snapped in a hushed voice. “You were supposed to wait for backup. You nearly got both of them killed.”
“I had to go,” James said, face tight with pain. “They would’ve died.”
“You nearly joined them.”
She pressed a clean wrap against the wound with a little too much force. James hissed and gritted his teeth.
Harry flushed and tried to step back without making a sound, mortified at the sight of both his parents half-dressed and caught in such an intimate moment. But the floor creaked and James’s head turned sharply. Clearly his nerves were still heightened from the battle.
“Who’s there?!” he barked.
Harry said nothing and he pulled out his wand and Lily followed suit. “Show yourself or I swear to Merlin I will blow this joint apart!”
Harry froze, then timidly pushed the door open. “It’s me,” he mumbled, eyes on the floor.
Lily’s expression soured at once. James looked no happier.
“Now’s not the time, Harry,” James said in a low voice and Lily snorted.
Harry's voice cracked. “I… I wanted to tell you something about Charlie…”
“Listen to your father, young man!” Lily snapped at him. James gripped her forearm and the two exchanged a glare. The contest was broken by Harry mumbling again.
“P-p-p-lease….j-just f-five m-minutes!” Harry stuttered.
Lily had enough. She stormed over, seized Harry by the ear, and hauled him out into the hallway without a word. Her grip was iron.
“Ungrateful little …..,” she muttered under her breath. “We nearly die out there and you come whining the moment we walk in.”
With a final shove, she left him outside and slammed the door shut. It glowed briefly, Lily had sealed it shut.
Lily said nothing and resumed administering aid to James. A few awkward seconds passed before Lily spoke again. “Go ahead. I know you are just dying to say something right now, James.”
“You were too hard on him.” James said.
Lily didn’t look up. “He’ll live.”
“He was crying, Lily,” James said.
She snorted. “Then maybe he needs to toughen up.”
James frowned but stayed quiet. Lily set down the cloth and began wrapping clean gauze around his ribs.
“He lives in a mansion,” she went on. “He’s fed better than half the wizarding world. Spends most of his days with sugar in his mouth and no clue what real trouble is. If his biggest problem is a fight with his brother, then it should stay between the boys…. Especially when baby death eaters will be joining Hogwarts soon. You remember the hallway battles with them in our day? It will be much worse. Harry must grow a backbone!”
And that’s why he needs softness here. Just a little. A place to breathe.”
Lily didn’t reply right away. She stood, walked over to the other side of the room, and dropped onto the old armchair with a sigh. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said.
For a few seconds, silence stretched between them again.
Then Lily bit her lip.
James raised an eyebrow. “What?”
She gave him a slow, crooked smile. “You know... it’s really damn sexy when you go all daddy-like.”
James barked a laugh. “Daddy?!”
Lily slid off the chair, crawling slowly across the carpet toward him, her green eyes gleaming in the low light like emeralds.
“Mmm, the way you defend little Harry. Telling me off. Giving orders,” she purred, voice thick and low.
She was almost on top of him when James gave a wheeze and clutched his side. “Easy. My ribs are still fragile.”
Lily grinned and slowed her pace. She climbed up beside him on the bed, then gently eased him down onto his back.
“It’s been so long,” she murmured, fingers brushing his chest, careful but wanting. “And all this fighting’s got me hot and flustered.”
James exhaled, eyes lidded. “We probably shouldn’t.”
Lily leaned down, lips ghosting over his collarbone. “We fucking should.”
A Few Days Later
Harry crouched near the hedge, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a line as he spotted movement in the brush.
“There you are,” he whispered.
With a swift lunge, he grabbed the squat, potato-faced gnome by its ankle as it shrieked and twisted. Harry spun once, twice, then launched it over the fence like he’d seen Fred do. It gave a satisfying yelp as it sailed through the air, landing with a distant thump in the compost heap.
Harry wiped his forehead, pride blooming in his chest.
The moment was not to last.
A hand closed around the back of his head, fingers twisting roughly in his hair. He yelped in surprise but had no time to react before his body was wrenched backwards.
His world turned into stabs of white light. Charlie loomed over him with a burning fury.
“You little grass,” he growled.
Harry blinked, confused, vision spinning. “W-what?”
“You think you're clever?” Charlie snarled. His hand cracked across Harry’s cheek, sharp and loud. “Running off to mummy and daddy? You filthy little snitch.”
“I didn't,” Harry gasped. “I swear, I didn’t say anything.”
Charlie slapped him again, harder. “You lying squib. The elf told them. Dolly ran off and tattled, and now I’ve got Mum in my face like I’m some thug. What did you think would happen?”
“I didn’t know she’d say anything,” Harry whimpered, hands trembling as he tried to brace himself. “I didn’t tell her to. I didn’t tell anyone.”
Charlie’s jaw clenched. His hand rose again, hesitated for a moment, then dropped with another harsh slap.
“Don’t lie to me,” he spat. “You think just ‘cause you’re the baby, you get to run your gob and make me look bad?”
“I didn’t,” Harry whispered again, tears burning in his eyes.
Charlie shoved him one last time, hard enough to send him stumbling into the dirt. Harry stayed there, curled in on himself, cheek red and swelling, mud on his hands.
Charlie scoffed.
“Clean yourself up, freak,” he muttered, turning and walking off without another glance.
A few painful seconds passed before Harry spoke again.
“I will get you …prick….I will get you.”
The Party
Charlie was having a party.
Harry had not been invited. He had not even been spoken to. Not once.
He watched as familiar faces trickled through the large iron gates and onto the sun-dappled lawn. Fred and George Weasley arrived first, loud and obnoxious as ever, slapping each other with conjured fish and already making a mess of the rosebed. Harry’s nose wrinkled at the boorish display. Clearly the pricks had no class whatsoever. They must have been raised in a barn.
Then there was Cedric Diggory. Harry wondered if the boy would be grinning so wide if he knew how badly Charlie talked about him behind his back.
Then came a girl and even Harry paused in his scowling as he looked at her. To say she was pretty was an understatement. She was drop dead gorgeous with pink hair and a knee high boots. She looked like a rockstar in one of Uncle Sirius’s posters.
“Hey there big man!” Tonks cheerfully said and the trademark rich-git smirk faded from Charlie’s face, replaced by a nervous blush. A bitter feeling once again developed in Harry as he saw them hug. A touch that lasted a tad bit longer than appropriate between just “friends”, especially that of the opposite gender.
Harry shifted slightly to the side and turned his gaze to the others. Fred and George opened a small drawstring bag and were pulling out bottles.
Harry leaned closer, squinting as he tried to identify them. They looked awfully similar to the no-no bottles.
That’s what his father had called them. Stored in the high cupboard above the kitchen hearth, the one Harry wasn’t even allowed to look at. James had once caught him standing on a chair and gave him a firm whack for it. “Not for little hands,” he had said. “And definitely not for you.”
Harry grinned as the beginning of a plan took root inside his soul. His brother may have inherited their father’s vaunted wand magic skills, but he was definitely the potions prodigy of the family.
Evening
Fred let out a hiccup and blinked at the bottle in his hand. “This stuff hits like a hippogriff,” he mumbled.
Tonks, seated cross-legged beside a toppled picnic basket, squinted at the bottle Fred passed to her. Her hair had shifted to a dull brown, like her body couldn’t keep the charm steady anymore.
“George,” she slurred, pointing a lazy finger, “you cooked the booze too hard, didn’t you?”
George opened his mouth to defend himself but immediately turned green. He stumbled away and puked into one of Lily’s prized flower pots, doubling over with a loud retch.
“Oh Merlin,” Fred muttered, turning his head to the side. “That’s disgusting.”
Tonks gagged, waving a hand in front of her nose. “I’m never drinking again. I swear it.”
Charlie winced and tried to sit up again. His limbs felt like they were underwater. He fumbled for his wand and weakly called out, “Dolly.”
Nothing happened.
“Dolly!” he said again, louder this time.
Still no pop. No reply. No house-elf.
Charlie squinted toward the manor. “Weird,” he mumbled before collapsing again.
Meanwhile, Harry watched it all with a grin on his face. Soon mum and dad would be home, cross as they ever were from whatever they did all day, and Charlie would be in for the scolding of a lifetime!
He glanced out the window again, anticipation buzzing in his chest, hoping to catch the silhouette of them.
Harry froze.
There, just beyond the garden hedge, stood a lone figure. A woman. Pale as bone. Her black curls tumbled over her shoulders, cupping manic purple eyes.
She raised a hand and gave him a slow, deliberate wave. A chill passed through him. How could she even know where he stood? So up high?
Then she smiled. Too wide. Too many teeth.
The grass outside ignited in a perfect ring. Fire shot up in a circle around the entire house, enclosing the manor in a towering wall of flame. Still the woman didn’t break eye contact and Harry was paralyzed with fear to do so.
Harry screamed in terror as he fell on his rear and tried to scramble away from the macabre view.
She mouthed something through the glass, her head tilting like a doll’s. Then she lifted something, it was Dolly’s chopped head and mouthed.
“Boo!”
Harry screamed in terror as he fell on his read in a bid to scramble as far away from the window as possible. He bolted down the hallway, still screaming for anyone to listen to him.
“Charlie!” he yelled, voice cracking. “Charlie, get up! She’s here! They’re here!”
Charlie groaned from the drawing room couch and tried to sit up, blinking in confusion.
“What’re you shouting for, squib?” he slurred.
Harry grabbed his arm and shook it violently.
“They killed Dolly! There’s a fire outside! We’re surrounded!”
Charlie blinked at him, dazed, and then flopped back with a moan.
“I said get up!” Harry shrieked, but Charlie had already started to snore.
Smoke began to seep under the windows.
He went to each of the guests. Begging, slapping, and vigorously shaking but to no avail. Tears streamed down his face and a dull gong sound went off. Harry crawled up to the window and saw the death eaters working the wards of the manor. Meanwhile, some of the more reckless ones were constantly lobbing spells at the manor walls.
“W-w-whas happening?” A voice mumbled from behind him. Harry turned to see it was Tonks.
Tonks was on one knee near the Floo, wand shaking in her grip. Her face was pale and damp with sweat. She looked up when Harry entered, blinking as if it took effort just to focus.
“We are under attack! We have to run now!” Harry yelled and Tonk’s blinked a few times, trying to register his panic.
She nodded slowly. “Get the others.”
Fred was groaning on the floor. George hadn’t moved in a while. Charlie was still half-conscious on the couch.
Tonks muttered a spell. Her wand glowed faintly.
“Wingardium… Leviosa.”
Fred rose first. She pushed him into the Floo. A flash of green and he was gone.
Then George. Then Charlie.
Each time her hand shook more. Her lips were dry and cracking. She swayed as she turned back to Harry.
“Your turn.”
“No,” he said. “You’re barely standing. You go.”
“Not a debate,” Tonks said. Her voice was rough but steady. “Get in.”
Harry didn’t move. “You’ll fall over. You’ll pass out before you can say anything.”
“Harry.”
He shook his head. “You’re not leaving me here.”
They stared at each other for a second. Then a low crack split the air.
The fireplace exploded. Bricks shattered across the room. The green flames of the fire vanished as smoke poured in.
A Death Eater stepped through the hole, wand in hand, robes torn at the edges, smiling.
Harry backed away as Tonks tried to crawl toward her wand.
“Well, well,” the man said, voice calm. “Isn’t this cozy. I never knew you Potters were THAT loaded.”
He seized Harry by the front of his shirt and yanked him up. Harry kicked and thrashed, but the man was stronger. He pressed the tip of his wand to Harry’s ribs.
“Crucio.”
Harry screamed. His body arched as pain shot through him like a bolt of fire. He dropped to the floor, twitching, gasping for breath.
Tonks let out a weak yell. “Leave him alone!”
The Death Eater turned toward her, amused. “You don’t look like you’re in much of a position to give orders.”
He kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. She coughed hard, then tried to drag herself toward her wand again.
The man knelt beside Harry. “Where’s the other one?” he asked. “Where did you send the big one? Potter’s eldest brat. Tell me, or I’ll tear him head to cock.”
Tonks said nothing.
“Alright,” the man muttered.
He hit Harry with the curse again. Harry cried out and curled into himself, tears streaking down his cheeks.
Tonks grit her teeth, dragging herself inch by inch. Her fingers stretched out toward the wand beneath the table.
“Don’t,” the Death Eater warned, stepping away from Harry. “You touch it, and I’ll take your fingers first.”
Tonks tried to grab it anyway and the Death Eater bought his foot down and crushed his finger. Tonks wailed as he sadistically ground his heel into her shattered hands.
"Not much of a fighter, are you," the man mocked. "Tell me where she sent the Potter boy. Or I'll pull your tongue out and ask it instead."
Tonks spat at his boot instead.
"So insolent….." the Death Eater said. "Fine. You first, then him."
He pointed his wand at her.
“STUPEFY!” Another voice yelled and the Death Eater was flung away. Harry soon saw James appear with a weary look. He was bleeding from his head with his clothes torn in many places.
"Are you alright?" he asked, pulling Harry close. "Are you hurt?"
Harry nodded weakly. James looked toward Tonks and sighed in relief. She was still moving.
Before he could reach her, a second crack split the room.
Antonin Dolohov stepped into the manor. He walked in slowly, hands behind his back like a man touring a garden.
The first Death Eater staggered to his feet.
"My lord, I had it under control—"
"You had it under nothing," Dolohov said flatly. "You blundered. You toyed with a child. And now you have wasted my time."
James raised his wand again and Dolohov didn't bother speaking.
The flash of green light was fast and James dropped in an instant.
“NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!” Harry roared as he rushed towards James and hugged.
“No no no no” he repeatedly mumbled, trying to shake the man awake, but nothing happened.
Tonks hissed in fury at the casual display of barbarism and Dolohov smirked at that.
"You look like him," he said. "That's a shame."
Harry reached for the nearest object he could find. His fingers closed around a broken piece of stone. He stood and hurled himself at Dolohov, striking at his leg with all his strength.
The rock bounced harmlessly off his shin.
Dolohov looked down, amused.
"Brave. Stupid. But brave."
Harry hit him again. Dolohov caught him by the wrist and twisted. Harry cried out.
"Such disrespect," Dolohov said calmly. "It has a price."
He pointed his wand at Tonks.
"Avada Kedavra."
The green light hit her before Harry could even scream. She collapsed, her eyes still open.
It took a few moments for Harry to register what had happened. Dolohov then forced the boy to look at him again.
“What did you learn, boy?”
"When I’m big," he said, voice shaking, "I’ll kill you."
Dolohov grinned at that."I hope you do. I would like to see what you become. Killing all these pussies from the Order has gotten rather boring."
He lifted Harry’s arm.
"Let me help you remember."
With the tip of his wand, he began to carve as Harry yelled in pain.
D O L O H O V
Harry soon blacked out.
Aftermath
Harry’s life had collapsed into something worse than miserable. He didn’t remember the exact moment it turned, but it had. Somewhere between the funerals and the whispers, the shift became final.
Charlie had to be moved to another house. Not for Charlie’s safety, but because everyone knew he might actually kill Harry if he stayed. Lily didn’t visit anymore. She had tried once or twice in the beginning, but that didn’t last. Now it was like he didn’t exist.
He was stuck at Grimmauld Place with Sirius. For now. But he knew that wasn’t going to last either. He’d overheard enough conversations to know what they were planning. They wanted to send him off. Somewhere far away with muggles.
He wasn’t really part of the Order. Wasn’t even part of the family. He was a squib. Not officially, maybe, but that’s what they all believed. The magic hadn’t come nor did the portkey work. James and Tonks had died.
So Harry stopped trying. He kept his mouth shut. Ate in his room. Didn’t bother answering when Kreacher spat his usual filth. No one cared. No one checked in. They all had more important things to do.
For entertainment, he had thic tommes he had pilfered from the Black library when Sirius was out and about. He wouldn’t miss them and Harry had discreetly filed them away in a magical burlap sack.
Number 13 Privet Drive
Harry stood outside Number 13 Privet Drive, unsure if he should knock or just keep walking. The goodbye with Lily had been short. She hadn’t even looked him in the eye. Just handed over the trunk, said it was for the best, and disappeared with a loud crack. She didn’t even stop to greet her sister. Not even a wave.
Just gone.
He stood there for a while, blinking against the heat behind his eyes. Then he wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve and stared at the door. It looked the same as all the others on the street.
After a few more seconds, the door opened.
A round man with a thick mustache peered out. He had a pressed shirt and a striped tie, and looked like a candy dealer in a fantasy novel. His brow furrowed as he looked at the boy on the steps.
“Are you alright?” he asked in a concerned voice.
Harry tried to answer but only managed a sob. The man looked down, saw the trunk, and something clicked in his head. His eyes widened.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
He stepped out without a second thought, took off his blazer, and draped it over Harry’s shoulders. The fabric was warm. Smelled faintly of aftershave.
“That bloody ginger bitch didn’t even bother to call,” he muttered. “Just dropped you off like luggage.”
He picked up one of Harry’s bags, then the second, grunting only slightly as he slung them over a shoulder. Harry stared, surprised. The man didn’t look strong, but he moved like he’d done this sort of thing plenty of times.
Inside, the house smelled like roast and floor polish. The hallway was lined with neat photos. The carpet was clean. The air was warm.
The man set the bags down and turned with a bright smile.
“Right then,” he said. “I’m Vernon Dursley. Your uncle, technically. Welcome home, Harry.”
He reached out, wiped the tears off Harry’s cheek with a quick flick of his thumb, then nodded toward the kitchen.
“Dinner’s almost ready. And Dudley’s been asking about you all day. Says he’s excited to meet his mysterious cousin.”
Harry didn’t say anything. He just nodded, eyes still wet, throat too tight to speak. But he followed.
Dinner
Dinner had gone better than Harry expected, warmer than anything the Potters had bothered with in recent years. There were no raised voices, no awkward silences, and no lectures about responsibility or behavior. The food was simple but filling, and the company, surprisingly, didn’t feel like a punishment.
Despite being non-magical, the Dursleys carried a kind of ease that felt more comforting than anything he had known at home. Dudley was loud, curious, and hard to ignore, bouncing between questions as he piled food on his plate, asking Harry about football, favorite cartoons, and what sort of games he liked to play. Vernon matched that energy with a big laugh and steady presence, making sure Harry’s plate stayed full and throwing in odd jokes about the lunacy of office life that even made Dudley snort. He didn’t treat Harry like a burden or a problem. He treated him like someone who was meant to be there.
Petunia was polite but distant, clearly the outlier at the table. She offered more food when his plate was empty and made sure his glass was never dry, but spoke little beyond that. She watched without interfering and didn’t mention anything about Harry’s mother or the life he had come from.
There was no talk of magic, Hogwarts, or the war. No whispered names or careful euphemisms. If they knew anything, they didn’t say it, and for the first time in a long time, Harry didn’t feel like every word out of his mouth had to be weighed and checked.
Upstairs, as he changed into the borrowed pajamas and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, the feeling stuck with him. It wasn’t comfort exactly, but it wasn’t fear either. Something had ended. A chapter had closed. He wasn’t sure what came next, only that it was new and strange and out of his hands. It frightened him, but he didn’t let the tears come. The last thing he needed was for the Dursleys to think he was some weepy diva who couldn’t hold it together.
He pulled the blanket up, rolled onto his side, and stared at the wall, waiting for sleep that didn’t come quickly.
Dream
Harry woke up with a gasp.
Instead of the comforts of his new room, he was in a red, barren desert. Vast dust clouds gathered in the distance with lightening crackling inside them. The sun hung low and distant, a dull wound in the airless sky. The rocks were black and the earth was red and cracked like something dead for a long time. The wind had no voice but still it moved and shaped the land in silence and unyielding brutality. Nothing green lived. Nothing ever had. Nothing ever would.
He looked around, heart thudding. The air was red. The sky was red. Everything around him was silent and wrong. Then it hit him—he was on Mars. Somehow, impossibly, he knew it. The thought terrified him, but he couldn’t look away from it. And yet, somehow, he was breathing. That was the worst part. No air, no suit, no spells, and still he could breathe.
A voice broke the silence, though it didn’t speak in any language he knew. It wasn’t sound, not really. It was thought shoved into his head, jagged and skipping, cutting in and out like a broken radio signal.
Come.
Come soulless.
Machine-mind. Free of ether. Pollution-free. Bane of wavers.
He turned and saw it, a gaping chasm in the ground where there had been none before. It stretched wide and far, so deep that looking into it felt like staring into space. It wasn't a cave. It wasn’t even a pit. It was a wound in the planet.
The voice returned, splintered and twitching, changing tone mid-sentence.
I will show you the secret lore of metal and mind. Power unlike any that none had ever witnesses since the first war. The end of your shame. The ruin of ether-kind. Find the mark. Find me.
Harry stared into the chasm, drawn toward it, unable to look away. The darkness shifted.
Something looked back.
A single green eye, the size of a house, opened deep within the abyss. It stared straight at him.
There was no emotion in it. No mercy. Only cold hard algorithms.
Harry screamed.
A Few Years Later
Ever since that night, something had changed in Harry. It wasn’t just the memory of the dream or the fear that still woke him up sweating. It was what came after. Knowledge poured into his head like someone had opened a dam. His eyes bled the first time it happened, bright red streaks down his cheeks as green symbols danced across his vision. They looked like hieroglyphics at first, but sharper, angular, glowing with a kind of mechanical intelligence that pulsed behind his eyelids even when he closed them.
The knowledge didn’t stop. Numbers, formulas, designs, materials he had never heard of. Concepts that seemed alien and yet somehow familiar. The more he saw, the more he understood. It didn’t feel like learning. It felt like remembering.
Vernon and Petunia, of course, had no idea. They worried, at first, that Harry would struggle at school. Petunia even bought a stack of beginner science workbooks and hovered nearby while he filled them out. But the fear didn’t last long. Within months, Harry was running laps around the rest of his class. He solved equations in minutes that left teachers blinking at the board. Chemistry, physics, engineering….none of it gave him pause. If anything, it bored him.
To him, science and math weren’t subjects. They were clay. Something to shape, to mold, to refine.
Dudley had grumbled for a while about Harry not being into sports, but he eventually got over it. He found his own thing in boxing, trained hard, and liked the way it made him feel stronger and lighter on his feet. He didn’t take Harry’s rise in academics as a challenge. That, more than anything, had kept the peace.
Harry kept the visions to himself. No one needed to know. Not Petunia. Not Vernon. Definitely not Dudley. There were no more bleeding eyes, at least not lately, but the symbols still appeared sometimes. Mostly in dreams, sometimes in flashes when he closed his eyes for too long.
The obsession with Mars had only grown stronger since that first night. It burned under his skin, pushed him to read every book he could find, chase every article, dig through every dataset. He didn’t just want to know what was up there. He had to.
And it had paid off. He had found something.
Now he stood on the school’s front lawn, staring off at the horizon while students and faculty gathered in the auditorium behind him. Today was the award ceremony. He was being recognized for his “exceptional academic contribution to planetary science,” a phrase they had practiced with him three times before the event.
His thoughts were still tangled in Martian soil and subsurface imaging when he heard the sound of shoes crunching on gravel. He turned.
Uncle Vernon stood a few feet away, dressed in a black suit and a silver bowtie.
“Harry hesitated. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.
Vernon raised an eyebrow. “That so?” He turned and leaned against the brick wall, crossing his arms. “Let me take a shot in the dark. This morning, before breakfast, you kept glancing out the window. Jumped at the sound of the post. Didn’t eat much, either.”
Harry stayed quiet, but his ears went red.
“You were waiting for something,” Vernon continued, voice calm. “Something from the other …. Side.”
Harry flinched and looked away. “I wasn’t—”
“Harry,” Vernon said gently. “You were waiting for your Hogwarts letter.”
The silence stretched between them for a moment before Vernon sighed and rubbed his jaw.
“Petunia was the same,” he said. “She told me…..When she was your age, she wanted that letter more than anything. She had it in her head that if Lily could get one, so could she. Every year, she’d check the post over and over, convinced it had just been delayed or lost. And every year, nothing came.”
Harry didn’t respond. He just kept staring at his shoes.
“You know what it did to her?” Vernon said. “It ruined her teenage years. She stopped studying. Didn’t go out. Didn’t enjoy life. Just sat in her room, angry at the world for not giving her what she thought she was owed.”
He looked at Harry then, steady and serious.
“I won’t let that happen to you.”
Harry opened his mouth, but Vernon kept going, voice softer now.
“You’re already doing things no one else your age can touch. You’ve got a mind that frightens full-grown professors. Oxford, Cambridge, that bleeding Japanese one I can’t pronounce…they all want to meet you. And not just because you’re smart. It’s how you think. How you take things apart and put them back better.”
Harry looked up, confused. “I just… like figuring things out.”
“And that’s rare,” Vernon said. “What you’ve got, that’s something the world needs. Not stupid spells. You’re helping Dudley train better, eat better. He’s got a shot at the junior Olympics because of you. You’re already changing lives.”
Harry neglected to mention it was experimental drugs he used on Dudley. Whatever Vernon didn’t know couldn’t hurth him.
Harry didn’t know what to say.
Vernon put a firm hand on his shoulder. “So don’t waste your time chasing ghosts. That letter isn’t coming. And that’s alright. Let it go, son. Live for what’s ahead. Not what might have been.”
Harry blinked, then nodded slowly. His chest hurt in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “Thanks, da—” He stopped himself, face going pale.
Vernon’s eyes softened, and he gave a warm smile. He didn’t say anything. Just pulled Harry into a hug, strong and steady, and held him there.
“You’re doing just fine, son,” he said.
Harry nodded into his chest and let himself believe it. Just for a while.
After a few seconds, Vernon pulled away and asked. “So, did you finally chose a name for the place?”
“I think I will call it the Noctis Labyrinth,” Harry said.