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batsutousaiTitle: Nose to the Wind
Series: Like a Ghost in My Town
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort, James Potter/Lily Potter
Warnings: AU, violence, universe hopping/rebirth, Dark!Harry, werewolf!Harry, underage relationship (ish)
Summary: While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?
A/N: Chapters may feel a bit slow for a while, since nothing much is happening. Just, you know, Harry growing up. (The horror.)
I have no intention in covering every little thing, largely because I have next to no experience with children, and the best way to avoid making an absolute fool of myself, I've discovered, is to simply brush over a lot.
On that note, Harry is smart, too smart. His parents have totally cottoned on to that, and they've made sure Sirius and Remus are in the loop. They don't quite understand how smart he is, nor can they guess anything close to the reason, but they're aware. And they do tend to treat him like he's older than he is, giving him responsibilities that no sane person would ever give a kid his age. But they live in a world of magic, and a super smart kid is not the weirdest thing in their universe. (&, as previously mentioned, Bats is not familiar with children. Which is why I was originally intending to have him start this world at eleven.)
There are mentions of an Atlantean language in this chapter, which will appear again in later chapters. For those curious, I'm basing the alphabet on the one created for Disney's Atlantis: The Lost Empire film.
For ages at the start of this chapter, Harry is 2. (His brother Will is 1.)
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
Chapter Three – Death and Living Reconciled
-0-
Things calmed down for the Potters after they accepted Voldemort's offer, as they were effectively out of the Order. They still kept up with the news, and James still went to the ministry to be an auror, but they were...well, almost happier. Lily certainly smiled more often when she didn't think Harry or Will was watching her.
After a week, many of their Order friends started dropping by, admitting they had also accepted Voldemort's offer. Some of them seemed ashamed, or discontent with their choice, but most of them seemed relieved.
Voldemort didn't try making any further contact with Harry, which he appreciated. He was still occasionally giving himself a mental smack for his carelessness, but he suspected Voldemort was just pleased to have caught Harry out. In all fairness, they now both had something to hold over the other's head, which put them on the sort of equal footing that Voldemort wouldn't like, but could stand for a while.
One afternoon in June, while James was at work, someone knocked on the door. Lily frowned towards it, then glanced over at where Harry had been absently playing with blocks with Will. He met her eyes and nodded – he'd keep an eye on Will and get him out if it was trouble – and her mouth quirked. "Your father is right, you are far too clever for your own good," she informed him as she stood.
Harry shrugged to himself and caught Will's uncertain frown. He reached over and poked his brother's nose, then smiled once he had the boy's attention. Will wiggled his nose and giggled before reaching over to poke Harry's nose back.
"Severus?" Harry heard Lily say, and he couldn't help but jerk in surprise. He knew the man had requested his mum's safety, but he'd never have expected Snape would come by the Potter residence.
"Lily. Is it– Might I...possibly come inside?"
Lily didn't reply for a long moment, clearly debating, before she let out a sigh and pulled the door open further, letting the man in. "I suppose so."
Snape had dressed in black slacks and a dark button-up, his childhood in the muggle world showing through best in his knowledge of how to dress like one. Harry ducked his head to hide his expression, not sure how he appeared at seeing the man in something other than robes for the first time.
"Harry, Will," Lily called and they both looked up. Will gave Snape an uncertain look and shifted closer to Harry, setting the pile of blocks they'd been working on tumbling between them. Lily sighed. "This is Severus, a friend of mine. But we can't let Daddy know he visited."
Will turned to Harry, who offered him a smile and nodded, then pressed his finger to his lips. "Seccet?" Will guessed. When Harry nodded, he beamed and turned back to Lily to declare, "Seccet!"
Lily eyed Harry suspiciously. "I wonder who taught you that word."
Harry put on his best innocent expression.
Lily shook her head, amused, and turned back to Snape. "The quiet one is Harry, my eldest, and the talkative one is Will."
Snape's expression was pinched. "I do see the resemblance to their father," he offered.
Lily rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder lightly, the action the sort of familiar one that friends shared. "For Merlin's sake, Sev. I swear, I don't know who's the youngest in this room right now, you or Will." Snape made a face. "Did you want something to drink?"
"Anything but tea," Snape decided, looking towards the kitchen.
Lily nodded. "Harry, keep an eye on your brother for me, okay?"
Harry nodded and picked up a block to wave in Will's face, bringing his attention to the knocked over tower, which Will then proceeded to mumble sadly over as he started to fix it.
"They'll be fine," Lily said, leading Snape out of the room.
"Harry doesn't talk?" Snape asked, and Harry was surprised to hear a note of honest concern in his voice.
"Not to any adults. James and I are both convinced he speaks to Will when we're not there to hear, because Will sometimes lets drop words he didn't hear from us, Sirius, or Remus, but he's very careful about it." She snorted. "He's remarkably good at getting his point across without words, and the mediwizard assures us he can speak, so we've decided not to worry about it. When he wants to start talking, he'll start talking."
"Very well," Snape allowed and they were both quiet for a moment.
"Why are you here, Sev?" Lily finally asked.
"This was the first chance I've have to visit since I heard you accepted the Dark Lord's offer," Snape said, the words sounding honest. "You know how it is at Hogwarts, busy all day, every day, and I didn't want to chance getting thrown out by–" He coughed, likely stopping himself just before he called James a name. Harry rolled his eyes.
"I keep forgetting you're teaching at Hogwarts," Lily admitted. "Well, as you can see, we're just fi– Oh my God. It was you."
"What was me?" Snape asked, cautious.
Out in the living room, Harry let his teeth show in a mean little smile; he'd been looking forward to the moment his mum figured out who had asked Voldemort to spare her. That it happened while Snape was in smacking distance was just...too perfect.
Let it never be said Harry wasn't a vindictive little fuck.
"You told Vol–"
Snape let out a sharp noise.
"Oh, give it up, Sev. Voldemort. You told him to spare me."
"Yes," Snape ground out.
"Why?" Lily demanded, voice sharp enough that Will jerked his head around, eyes going wide, and Harry had to scramble to find something to distract his brother from his upset, lest he miss the rest of the exchange.
Snape took a deep breath. "I know. About the prophecy, I knew. I knew that you– I knew that Harry would be a target. So I–"
"Asked your lord to spare me while he killed my son, and very likely my husband," Lily deadpanned.
"...yes."
"Out," Lily said, her voice steady.
There sounded a crack of apparation from the kitchen, then Lily stepped out into the living room. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, looking lost, before walking over to Harry and Will and dropping to the ground next to them. "Mummy needs a hug," she admitted just before a tear tracked down her cheek, and Harry immediately went to her, not even the least bit bothered by how tightly she held him.
"I love you, Harry," she whispered into his hair. Then, louder, "I love you both so much," and Harry knew that was meant for Will.
"Muma!" Will called, throwing himself into the space next to Harry. "Love Muma! Love Hawwy!" he declared.
Lily let out a wet laugh while Harry grinned at his brother and poked his nose.
Then Harry looked up at Lily and very obviously touched his chest, over his heart, then pointed at her. Her smile softened and she kissed his forehead. "I know, baby."
Harry decided, right then and there, that when he finally decided no one would worry about how mature he sounded, the first thing he was going say to his parents was that he loved them.
Harry was just lying down to sleep after having watched the clock on the wall of the nursery tick over to midnight, marking his turning three, when he heard something settle heavily outside the window closest to his bed. He turned to frown at it, only for whatever was there – an owl, he suspected – to tap on the glass.
He huffed and jumped down from his bed, then hurried over to open the window. "Shh, my brother's sleeping," he ordered as he started shoving the window open enough that the rather large black owl could get in.
The owl eyed him for a moment once the window was open, then stuck out one leg, which had a small box tied to it. Harry raised an eyebrow at that, but obediently accepted the offering. As soon as the owl was unburdened, it turned and jumped from the narrow ledge, vanishing into the night before Harry could finish closing the window.
He cast a couple detection spells at the box on his way back to his bed, and when they came back clean, he shrugged and opened it.
A small silver charm in the shape of a scythe rested on some cotton padding within.
Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh that he couldn't help but make, amused beyond words. "Cute," he whispered to the absent dark lord, before pulling the charm out to look it over. It was a normal scythe, rather than the Elder Wand with a scythe blade that he'd adopted as his signature.
Harry didn't bother suppressing a smirk as he went hunting for paper and the crayons to write a note for Voldemort to find in the morning:
'You got the handle wrong, but I'll forgive you this time, considering I doubt you got a particularly good look at it before you burnt my last note. Have a refresher.'
Harry didn't hear from Voldemort again, which made him a little sad, admittedly, but he was distracted from the matter at the end of August when Lily announced at breakfast, "I'm pregnant."
James had clearly already known, and Will didn't yet understand what that meant, so the announcement had been intended for Harry, who gave his mother a wide-eyed look that made her laugh. He grinned and nodded, showing he understood the message; he would have a new brother or sister within nine months. He was...actually kind of looking forward to it.
At the beginning of December, Harry started wondering about whether or not he should get Voldemort a gift. He knew Tom, in his last reality, had been torn about accepting them – lacking people willing or knowing to send them to him, standing against the general belief that dark lords didn't do birthdays, Harry had always suspected – and he assumed this Voldemort would be similar, though it was likely he knew more people who had attended Hogwarts with him, and so was more likely to receive gifts.
Well, Voldemort had sent him something, taunt or not, and Harry had always enjoyed screwing with Tom when it came to gifts, so he'd send something. As for what, well, that was the question.
He spent a week calling up the dead in the evenings, starting with those closely related to Voldemort, then branching out, trying to find some sort of 'treasure' that he'd appreciate.
In the end, he found a wizard who was quite happy to direct him to where Gellert Grindelwald's journals from his time leading his own war had been stashed. Within were a number of spells that had likely never gone past Grindelwald's inner circle, if that far, as well as some other little tidbits that he knew Voldemort would appreciate.
He asked Death to come wake him once Voldemort went to bed, then snuck in and left the book on the man's desk.
He didn't expect a thank you, and so wasn't disappointed when he didn't get one; Death was more than capable of letting him know that Voldemort had spent the rest of his birthday and the first two days of the new year squirrelled away in his rooms, reading the journals.
Christopher John Potter was born on 27 March 1984. Harry got to hold him after James, who subtly supported his arms for a moment, before apparently recognising that Harry's werewolf strength meant he didn't need the help. Harry thought his newest brother was kind of gross, but also kind of adorable, and he kissed Christopher's forehead, sealing a silent promise to keep him safe, before handing him back to Lily.
By the middle of April, he was already serving that duty, as Will decided he hated how much attention the new baby was getting and he had to be a little shit about it.
All. The. Time.
Harry played referee as best he could, taking any and all blows Will aimed at Chris without complaint, beyond a disapproving frown aimed at his middle brother.
"You never went through this phase," James complained one afternoon to Harry, both of them watching where Will was pouting in the corner, stuck in time-out for ten minutes. Lily had walked into the dining room to feed Chris, tired of Will screaming every time he saw their mum holding the infant.
Harry sighed and shrugged; of course he hadn't been a brat, he'd never actually been two.
James let out a dramatic groan and slid down in his spot on the couch, so he was almost more lying than sitting. "Do you think Voldemort would be willing to babysit?"
Harry couldn't help but let out a startled laugh, and when he caught his father's grin, he lightly smacked his shoulder and shook his head.
"You're right, Mum would never let us get away with it."
Harry rolled his eyes and turned back towards Will, wishing his brother would get over this phase quickly.
Near the end of May, Chris came down with a nasty cold. It got to the point, one weekday afternoon, that Lily had to run him to St Mungo's, leaving Harry in charge of Will.
"Where's Muma?" Will demanded once the flames of the floo had died down.
"She's taking Chris to the healers."
"Why?"
Harry considered his brother for a moment, seeing an opportunity that was horrible, but might solve some of his problems. "He's going away because you hate him," he deadpanned. "Mum took him to say goodbye where you wouldn't ruin it."
Will's eyes went wide. "I– No! No! No! Muma! No! Love Chris!" he wailed, running towards the fireplace.
Harry watched him for a moment, expression stony, before he admitted, "I lied, Will. Chris and Mum will be back soon. But you need to be nice, or he might really go away. And then Mum and Dad will hate you."
Will crumpled to the floor and burst into tears.
Harry sighed and walked over to hug his brother. When Will clung to him for the first time since Chris was born, he tightened his hold. "Give him a chance, Will. I know he makes stinky poos and wakes us all up at odd hours, but so did you, once. And I like you just fine."
Will didn't respond, only cried and cried until he'd exhausted himself and fallen asleep.
Harry shook his head and carefully manoeuvred his brother onto the couch, covering him with a blanket and sitting next to him to pet his hair.
Lily came back almost an hour later, looking ragged. She was holding Chris tight in her arms, but Harry was relieved to hear his breathing was much easier once she'd taken off the floo mask. "Hey, Harry," she whispered as she carefully sat next to him and tilted Chris so he could get a good look at the baby. "He's going to be okay."
Harry swallowed and nodded, gently taking one of the tiny hands in his.
"Was Will trouble?"
Harry shrugged and nodded, then looked pointedly at where he was sleeping next to Harry.
Lily sighed and kissed his forehead. "I don't know what I'd do without you some days, baby. Thank you for managing him all the time."
Harry shifted carefully to his feet, wary of waking Will, and kissed his mother's cheek.
Lily smiled at him. "I love you too, sweetie," she offered before getting up. "I'm going to go put Chris down. Should we move Will to his bed?"
Harry considered that for a moment, then shook his head; he didn't expect Will to nap for much longer, and the trip to their room would likely wake him pre-emptively, which would make him more grouchy than usual.
"I bow to your greater judgement," Lily teased before leaving to put Chris down.
In the end, Harry's – admittedly cruel – gamble paid off, and Will calmed down. He still had a habit of throwing temper tantrums at the drop of a hat, but he took to treating Chris like spun glass. Lily and James both shot Harry the occasional curious look, but since he was still holding his silence, they didn't bother asking.
Harry didn't get a gift from Voldemort for his fourth birthday, but he couldn't even pretend to be upset about the fact; he knew how Voldemort felt about birthdays. He'd decided to continue sending the man books, though, and started looking into procuring some interesting tomes through those in the Realm of Death, using nights when he wasn't talking to the dead or worried about one of his parents checking on him to hunt books down.
Things on the warfront finally died down in September, when Dumbledore and his handful of supporters still poking at Voldemort and his, finally turned themselves in, trading their lives for the safety of all of the current students at Hogwarts. Snape was made headmaster, and a number of the professor positions were filled by Death Eaters.
Snape came knocking one afternoon during the winter holidays, while James was at work. Lily frowned in the direction of the door, but she still got up to answer, and Harry suspected she'd been waiting for him to drop by again. "Severus?" she greeted, voice starting out hard, but turning into a worried sort of question by the end.
"Lily," Snape replied, and he sounded done in.
Harry looked up to watch as his mother let the current headmaster in, frowning at the exhaustion lining his face.
Will scrambled up from where he'd been playing with a magical toy Sirius had bought him for his third birthday the month previous and came to stand at Harry's side, watching the newcomer uncertainly. "Harry, Harry, who?" he asked in what Harry assumed was supposed to be a whisper.
Harry pressed his finger to his lips.
Will's eyes lit with understanding. "Is Secret. Dada, no."
Harry snorted and nodded, privately hoping Snape got stuck with the name 'Secret' from his brother.
"Sev, you remember Harry and Will?" Lily offered and Snape nodded. "Will, this is Severus, Mum's friend. Do you remember him?"
Will nodded. "Secret. Not tell Dada."
Lily smiled. "Very good. Harry, can you go check on Chris for me? Bring him to the kitchen if he's awake."
Harry nodded and looked down at Will curiously. His brother's face lit up, so Harry smiled and motioned for Will to follow him upstairs to check on their youngest brother.
"Chris was born in March," Harry heard Lily explaining as she and Snape moved into the kitchen. "Sit down, Sev; you look like you're about to fall over."
"You're not far off," Snape admitted tiredly. "I'm sorry to come by – I'm sure you're still furious with me – but I needed to see the face of a friend."
"You're headmaster now, right? I expect that's stressful."
Snape sighed. "You have no idea. The Dark Lord didn't make sending Death Eaters with a fondness for children a priority."
"Oh no," Lily replied, sounding honestly upset about that.
Harry, remembering how the students had suffered in his first reality when Death Eaters had taken over the school, winced, even as he picked a cooing Chris up. He wondered if sending Voldemort a message would fix things at all.
"Wanna hold," Will insisted.
"After Mum's seen to him," Harry promised.
Will pushed out his bottom lip and widened his eyes. "Wanna hold!"
Harry gave him his best unimpressed stare and intoned, "William."
Will slumped and followed quietly as Harry carried his drooling littlest brother down to their mother.
"Thank you, Harry," Lily said as she accepted Chris.
"Wanna hold," Will said, looking hopefully up at Lily. "Harry said no."
Harry hushed his brother from where he was getting some baby food for Lily to feed Chris.
Will's eyes went wide and he quickly corrected, "Harry didn't said. Wanna hold."
Snape let out a startled laugh while Harry covered his eyes. It was a good thing he knew his parents had long suspected he spoke to his brothers, because as soon as Will started talking, that secret was out.
Lily chuckled and gently ruffled Will's hair. "You can have Chris after Muma's finished feeding him, sweetie," she promised, before accepting the food and spoon Harry had brought her. "Thank you, Harry. Why don't you get Will and yourself some juice and go back to the living room while I talk to Sev?"
Will let out a whine. "Wanna–"
Harry gently tugged on a lock of his brother's hair and, when Will turned to look at him with watery eyes, he shook his head, then pointed at the fridge.
Will sniffed. "Wanna hold," he whispered.
Harry nodded in understanding, then pointed at the fridge again and mimed drinking something.
Will slumped, but let Harry lead him over to the fridge. When Harry pointed to the different options – with helpful pictures on the front, so the boys could pick what they wanted when they, supposedly, couldn't read – Will perked up and got excited about the juice. Which Harry had expected, hence why he'd wanted Will to pick.
He managed to get his brother out into the living room without any more demands to hold Chris, much to his relief.
"He's still not talking, I see," Snape commented once they were out of sight.
Lily sighed. "No. Or, well, not to any adults. Will seems to think Harry talks all the time, and I suspect that Chris will be of the same opinion, once he's old enough to tell us so."
"Perhaps, by then, Harry will speak to you, as well," Snape offered.
Lily snorted. "I certainly hope so, but the betting pool Sirius and James are running between themselves favour him not talking until he's a teenager, and only then as an act of rebellion."
"Yes," Snape remarked drily, "I suspect those two adolescents would be amused by the whole affair."
Lily laughed, and the two fell to reminiscing about their school years for a couple hours, broken only by Lily calling for Harry to come take Chris and, yes, Will could hold him, but only if he was sitting down.
Snape left half an hour before James was due home, looking much better for the visit. Lily looked happy, too, and Harry suspected she'd needed to make up with her childhood friend as much as Snape had needed to spend some time with a friendly face.
With that in mind, he spent some time after dinner, while James was playing with Will and Lily was sitting with Chris, writing a letter to Voldemort in dark blue crayon and signing it with his scythe in bright green:
'We've discussed the importance of seeing to the safety of children in keeping another war from breaking out; consider looking into hiring less violence-inclined witches and wizards to fill the vacant positions at Hogwarts.'
He would deliver it that night, or have Death deliver it in his stead, should it look like it was going to be one of Chris' restless nights.
For Voldemort's birthday, Harry found a handful of Atlantean books, which he'd had an interesting time getting, given that they had been in the Atlantis ruins, which were completely submerged and layered in enough protective wards to keep both muggles and wizards from ever finding them. Using the Realm of Death as a travel option made the wards a minor hurdle, and having access to one of the few Atlanteans who hadn't yet entered the rebirth track to point him in the right direction had avoided it entirely.
Opening a portal underwater, however, had held Harry back for a good week, and also served as a constant source of amusement for Death, judging by the noise it kept trying to stifle every time it came across Harry while he was wet. (Which was pretty much every time he tried a new spell to protect himself; Harry would have claimed mutiny, but it was actually sort of a treat, making Death laugh.)
Luckily, the books in Atlantis had all been saturated in spells protecting against water damage, so he was able to find a number of pristine tomes, once he found a room that the ocean creatures hadn't got into. One of the books he found was an Atlantean/Latin dictionary, which he'd grabbed for Voldemort; not everyone had been gifted Death's knowledge of all languages, after all.
He hunted down doubles of what he could, then made permanent copies of everything he couldn't, for himself. Because they all looked super interesting, and he wasn't going to chance reading them when he was sleeping in the same room as his two brothers, one of whom was still in the habit of waking up crying some nights. Maybe once he was old enough that it wasn't suspicious to find him with a book that he could disguise one of the tomes as, he could start reading them; if his last life had taught him anything, it was patience.
He slipped in to Voldemort's room to leave the pile of six books, plus the dictionary, as soon as Death came to tell him it was clear. There was a note there for him, held in place with a new scythe charm, this one with the Elder Wand as its handle. Harry considered it for a moment, arms still full, before shifting everything to cast a couple detection charms over it. It lit with two different alarm spells, but nothing harmful, and Harry flashed a wolfish grin as he removed the alarms.
He traded the books for the note and charm, then opened the parchment, figuring it was best to read it here, in case he needed to respond in some way.
'Scythe,
'How in Salazar's name are you slipping past my wards? What was that black portal you opened? Kindly desist with your sneaking about.
'I've handled the Hogwarts staffing issues. The group of Death Eaters were never meant to last more than the one term, but perhaps that was too much. Better to disrupt their term partway through, than force them to suffer a full term of threats of violence.'
Harry grinned to himself, then hunted down some unhexed parchment and a quill with an ever-full spell on it to write a message back.
'There's magic involved. Duh.
'I appreciate your attention to the problem. Did you remove your hex on the Defence position, too? (Or removing the class entirely, actually, might be more your style, now I think of it.)'
He set the note on top of the pile of books, then left for bed.
In January, during one of Will's occasional tantrums, he performed his first bit of accidental magic. He'd been screaming for one of the chocolate biscuits that Lily had only just pulled out of the oven, and Harry had been trying to get him into the living room so he could be distracted by toys until they were cool enough to eat, when, without warning, the baking tray slipped from Lily's hand and shot towards Will's outstretched hand.
Lily's horrified shout warned Harry about the danger and he acted on instinct, yanking Will out of the way of the hot tray. It flew past them and slammed into the wall, leaving a dent behind as it clattered to the ground, spilling biscuits all over the floor.
Will stared after the near disaster for a moment before bursting into tears.
Lily rushed over to them, her eyes wide. "Will! Baby, are you okay?" she cried, running her hands over him to make sure he was in one piece.
Will quieted a bit and clung to Lily, tears soaking her blouse.
Lily turned to Harry then, eyes still bright with concern. "It didn't touch either of you?" she requested and Harry shook his head. She breathed a sigh of relief and held out her arm for him, drawing him into a hug against her side when he came close enough. "Thank Merlin," she whispered, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead. "You did a good job, Harry."
Harry reached out and gently petted Will's hair. He didn't react other than to quiet further.
Once Will fell into an exhausted sleep and Lily had put him down, she finally set about cleaning up the mess left behind, shooing Puss-Puss away from his investigation of a broken biscuit. "I guess we're going to have to keep a closer eye on Will for a bit," she said to Harry, who, after ascertaining that the biscuits were cool enough for him to pick up, had knelt next to her to help clean up. "Goodness, accidental magic is the last thing we need on top of his tantrums."
Harry nodded tiredly; he was not looking forward to managing his brother when he could actually get the things he started screaming for.
Lily startled him by pulling him into a tight hug. "Merlin," she breathed. "When I think of what might have happened if you hadn't been there–" She let out a choked noise.
Harry looked up, only to find his mother was crying. He bit his lip and hugged her as tight as he could, wondering if maybe that was when he should start talking. Would it help at all, her hearing his voice?
And then Chris started screaming from his playpen in the living room, reminding them that they'd been ignoring him. Harry gently slipped out of Lily's grasp and patted her arm before leaving to see to his youngest brother.
The first time no one was there to get Will out of the way when he summoned something, was also the last time he pulled that trick. The broken hand was healed easily enough, after a trip to St Mungo's, but his memory of the pain wasn't so easily fixed. And, while Harry regretted that Will had got hurt, he couldn't bring himself to regret the outcome.
After the third day of watching Will's listless wanderings, however, Harry pulled him aside away from Lily and said, "Put your hands up, like this."
Will stared at him for a long moment, but when Harry continued standing with his hands held out in front of him, palms up, fingers gathered together at the top, he gave in and copied the stance.
Harry nodded. "Good. Now force your fingers apart really fast."
Will did as asked, and Harry cast a silent spell to cause sparkling lights to shoot out of his palms at the motion. It was a relatively harmless bit of magic, he knew, and once Will thought the action caused the lights and expected it to work in future, his magic would put action to expectation.
Will's eyes went wide, lighting with joy, as Harry had hoped. "Muma!" he shouted, dashing from their bedroom and barrelling down the stairs fast enough that Harry was half afraid he'd stumble and fall.
Lily was suitably impressed by Will's new trick, and Chris thought it was brilliant, which kept both him and Will entertained until James got home. He also exclaimed over the trick, and called Sirius and Remus over to see. Will was on the top of the world.
"It's a little horrible, how they all flock to Will just because he can make light, isn't it?" Remus offered as he sat down next to Harry on the couch, where he was working with a box of crayons and the colouring-in book he'd got for Christmas.
Harry considered his godfather, uncertain how to get across how unbothered he was by the fact that he was effectively a squib, and that he was just glad that Will was casting magic that wasn't likely to end in bodily harm. In the end, he just shrugged and turned back to his colouring.
Remus sighed and ruffled his hair. "Your aunt doesn't have magic, you know. She and your mum fell apart when your mum went to Hogwarts. When she got to learn how to use her magic."
Harry glanced up at him curiously, wondering where Remus was going with this.
"We could see if you could visit her for a bit. Get to know the non-magical part of your family."
Harry raised his eyebrows at Remus. Really? Visit Petunia? Is he mad? He snorted and set his colouring supplies aside, then slipped off the couch and changed form, teeth gritted against the pain.
Remus let out a startled laugh. "Right. I guess you're still magical enough in your own right."
Harry huffed, then turned and wandered over to Chris' playpen, where he was sitting and watching Will make lights for the adults. Harry jumped into the pen and nudged Chris' arm with his nose, catching his attention. His brother babbled gleefully at him and dragged him into a hug, which Harry allowed with resigned amusement. As long as Chris didn't start crying because he was feeling neglected.
When Harry went to open his presents on his fifth birthday, he found an unexpected extra slipped in with the familiar new clothing, colouring-in books, and toys: a long, thin box with only his name written on the tag. The adults all looked concerned about the gift, taking it from him and looking it over with both eyes and spells, but Harry had recognised the handwriting.
"Well," James said, handing the box back, "it's not dangerous. Go ahead and open it."
Harry carefully did so, half expecting Voldemort to have snuck some sort of spell on it that wouldn't have been noticed by anything his father had used. But there were no spells, only a folded piece of expensive paper and a wooden wand carved to look like the Elder Wand. He froze, staring down at it in disbelief. How had Voldemort–?
Right, Harry reminded himself as James took the box back, muttering about idiots giving children wands, I've been drawing it for him. I didn't think my crayon attempts were that good, but I did use a quill last time.
"James, wait," Lily ordered, and Harry glanced over to see her drawing out the paper that had been left with the wand. She unfolded it to read, and Harry's eyes widened when he realised that Voldemort had written in a stylised form of Atlantean, which used a different alphabet, on the back. A note that was only meant for Harry to read, assuming he actually understood the language. (Not a problem, but Voldemort didn't know that Harry understood all languages.)
'I looked into your medical records. You're completely un-magical. Explain how you're getting past my wards before I use your family against you.'
Harry scowled at the message until he was distracted by James holding the wand out to him. "Here, Harry. Say lumos."
Harry raised both eyebrows at his father, disbelieving, but James just grinned at him, so he turned to look at his mother instead.
"It's a wand for squibs," Lily explained. "There's only five spells it will cast, at your direction, and it has to be recharged periodically, but it'll let you use magic."
Harry blinked down at the wand as he accepted it, touched by the remarkably thoughtful gift. Given, it was technically unnecessary, but still. This was not the sort of thing he'd ever have expected from Voldemort, no matter how sane he was.
Lumos, he thought at the wand, and the tip lit with a bright light.
He sat still, staring at the light, while his parents, Sirius, and Remus all cheered and laughed.
Will came to sit next to him, reaching out and poking the wand. "Harry makes light, too?" he asked, looking hopeful.
Harry smiled and hugged his brother.
After everyone had calmed down, James took the wand back and promised, "Once everything's put away, we've shown you what you can use it for, and we settle on some safety rules, you can have it back. Is that fair?"
Harry sighed in regret, mostly because it was expected, but nodded and set about collecting all his new things. Will, excited about Harry's new toy, scrambled to help him, and Harry shot him an amused look as he dropped a couple things on his way and nearly tripped over them.
The wand, it turned out, could technically cast six spells, because he could use nox to end the light spell on the tip, or let go of the wand, thereby ending the spell. (Conservation of power, Harry assumed.) The other spells were protego, episkey, ferula, and rennervate. A reasonable store for a child with an accident-prone younger brother who had just discovered his accidental magic. Too, if they ended up in the middle of a fight, he could cast the shield spell and get his brothers to safety while Lily and James did what they could, without concern for their children.
Because none of the spells were offensive, Lily and James agreed that Harry could keep the wand with him. "But, if you use it for more than an hour in one day, let one of us know, so we can check the charge," James cautioned. "I'd rather be over cautious, than find out you got into a situation and your wand ran out of juice when you most needed it."
Harry nodded in understanding and let his father conjure a wand sheath for him to keep it in, giving him a quick demonstration of how to use it to get the wand from the magically expanded pocket inside.
Harry walked away happy, then proceeded to drain the wand almost entirely because Will wanted to play with lights and see the shield, and Harry kind of wanted to be able to show off magic, for once.
James and Lily were resigned, but Harry was made to promise that he wouldn't do that again.
Harry wasn't able to slip away the night of his birthday, with all the excitement, but he did go to visit Voldemort the next night, stepping out of his doorway to find Voldemort's wand pointing at him. "See," Harry complained as the doorway closed behind him, "this is why I always come when you're asleep."
Voldemort sneered at him, but lowered his wand and relaxed back into his desk chair. "Normal people aren't stupid enough to go opening magical portals in my private rooms, Scythe."
"I do, actually, have a name, you know," Harry pointed out as he climbed onto a chair that was sitting a bit out of arm's reach of the dark lord. "You know it, now, too. As you've made a point of informing me."
"Act like Harry Potter should act and I'll consider it," Voldemort shot back.
Harry laughed. "What, mute?"
Voldemort snorted. "You? Mute?"
Harry shrugged. "Well, yes. I don't trust myself to remember to dumb myself down enough to avoid my parents asking questions I'm unprepared to answer. Refusing to talk is the lesser of two evils, so I keep my mouth shut."
Voldemort stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and looking at the space where the doorway to the Realm of Death had been. "The portal. How does it get past my wards and how are you able to affect it, being a squib?"
Harry sighed and laced his fingers together in his lap, trying to remember exactly what he'd decided to share, to keep Voldemort from involving his family. "It's not human magic. Well–" he tilted his head to the side "–it may be more proper to say it's not living magic. One might call it soul magic, I suppose, since you access it through the manipulation of your soul's connection to Death, but Death, itself, refers to it as death magic, so."
"Death magic," Voldemort repeated, unimpressed.
Harry smiled and nodded. "Exactly." He motioned to form a doorway between them, in a different spot from the first one. "The doorway leads to the Realm of Death," he explained, and Voldemort jerked back, his expression caught somewhere between horror and disbelief. "You can probably get away with traversing it, so long as your horcruxes remain in the living world, but I don't expect it would feel comfortable."
"And yet, you have no such qualms," Voldemort snapped as the doorway closed again.
Harry shrugged. "No. But I spent a large portion of my last life learning how to manipulate Death's magic. Given that my lycanthropy followed me into this life, effectively making me a squib, the fact that I've retained my knowledge of death magic, and that such magic doesn't require the same magical pathways that mortal magic does, has been something of a blessing in disguise. I may not be able to cast a shield spell, but I can get away from opponents, or kill them by pushing them through one of the doorways."
Voldemort rubbed at his face, the action oddly human, given his quasi-snake appearance. (At least he still had a nose; that had been the most disturbing part of the Voldemort Harry had fought in his original reality.) "Reincarnation, with access to magic that can be equated with necromancy." He looked up. "Who were you?"
Harry shook his head. "Respectfully, none of your fucking business."
Voldemort's mouth quirked at one side. "Yes, I somehow expected you'd say that. Does the scythe mean anything, or is that also a secret?"
Harry considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "The handle is one of the wands I used in life, the scythe is, as one might expect, a nod to my familiarity with Death." He rubbed his chin. "Can I trust you not to let slip any of this to my parents without having to resort to holding your horcruxes over your head?"
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "You are rather unexpectedly attached to them, given your extensive knowledge of darker magic."
"Not really," Harry admitted quietly. "I'd never had a family, before. Well, not one that actually liked me. It's nice, having people who care about me, who'd worry if I've skinned my knee, and celebrate a tool that allows me a facsimile of magic." He met Voldemort's blank stare. "You can't say you wouldn't jump at such a chance."
Voldemort swallowed and looked away. "You dare to assume?" he said, no heat in his voice.
"I talk to the dead, Voldemort," Harry pointed out. "They flock to me, when I cross the Realm of Death, especially those who are aware I know one of their loved ones. Sometimes, they tell me stories. Other times, they ask me to pass on a message."
"My mother," Voldemort whispered.
"Merope Gaunt. Well," Harry corrected thoughtfully, "I suppose she's Merope Riddle, since your father never actually set about annulling the marriage."
"Surprising," Voldemort said, voice bitter. "He seemed the sort to have cut all ties to her the moment he could."
Harry pressed his lips together, uncertain what to say to that; Tom Riddle Sr had re-entered the rebirth lottery at his first chance, according to Merope. But only after saying a pile of nasty things to her, once she'd hunted him down. Anything he might say about Voldemort's father would only serve to feed his ire.
Voldemort pressed his thin lips together tight enough that they completely vanished, for a moment, then straightened. "I have no interest in involving your parents in my affairs, so long as they continue to uphold their end of our bargain. So long as you can ensure the safety of my horcruxes, I see no reason to share anything I know of your existence to anyone else." He frowned. "The prophecy. It never referred to the Longbottom boy, did it?"
Harry closed his eyes at the reminder of Neville's death; as the only feasible child of prophecy, so far as Voldemort was concerned, he'd borne the full brunt of the dark lord's paranoia. "No. It was always meant to refer to me."
Voldemort was silent for a long moment. "You said, two years ago, that you're not my enemy. How truthful were you?"
Harry sighed. "Very. I have no quarrel with muggleborns, but as both werewolf and akin to a necromancer, I find fault with the magical government as it has been in the past. So long as you don't begin hunting me for what I am, and my family remains safe, I see no reason to stand in opposition to you. Rather, you might consider me something of a shadow supporter, should you ever have need of my...particular talents." He flashed a smile full of teeth at Voldemort.
Voldemort snorted. "Unlikely, but I suppose one never knows; is there a more immediate way I might catch hold of you, save leaving messages in a dead language on the back of instructions for a gift?"
Harry laughed. "That was quite inspired, I must admit, though you chanced my not actually knowing the language."
"You found useful books, I hypothesised that you at least had access to a dictionary of your own."
Harry inclined his head. "Something of the sort. As for contacting me, you can leave a piece of parchment with my scythe on it in a clear spot of your desk. One of the dead will pass on the message that you wish to see me." Voldemort nodded. "Do keep in mind, however, that I help mind my brothers during the day, so I can only come at night. And, even then, I'm currently sharing room with them, so I may not be able to get away if someone's suffering from restless sleep."
"My condolences," Voldemort offered, sounding only vaguely sorry for Harry's troubles.
Harry snorted and slid out of his chair. "If that's all?"
"It is."
"Then I shall bid you a good night," Harry offered, motioning for a doorway to open next to him.
Voldemort made a face. "Good night, Scythe."
Harry snorted at the continued use of his signature as a name, then stepped through to the Realm of Death and turned towards home.
Stand Against the Moon Chapters:
Pro | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05
06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12
Nose to the Wind Chapters:
1 - Death Once Again || 2 - Bring Out All the Good Inside Me ||
4 - Orphan Man || 5 - Using Gentle Words to Shelter Me || 6 - Living on Your Breath
7 - You Just Might Get it All || 8 - Never Want to Come Down || 9 - Only the Silence Remains
10 - Love is a Doing Word || 11 - Nothing Sacred || 12 - The Heart Yearns
13 - Mirrored in Your Stare || 14 - Camouflage Denial || 15 - Precious and Fragile Things
16 - Perfectly Reckless || 17 - Your Arms Feel Like Home || 18 - The Sun Will Set For You
19 - Your Love Has Always Been Enough || 20 - Keep Up This Charade || 21 - Truth Like a Blazing Fire
22 - Give Yourself a Try || 23 - Done Pleading Ignorance || 24 - Your Razorblade Caress of Love
25 - Summer's Scent Still Lingers || 26 - Burn Out the Stain || 27 - Final Masquerade
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