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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: It occurred to me, while I was working on the next chapter, that Godric's Hollow probably has magical families, but let's assume they all either have much older children, or they, themselves, are much older. (The people we know for sure live(d) in Godric's Hollow, other than the Potters, honestly, were all much older.)
For ages at the start of this chapter, Harry is 5. (Will is 3 and Chris is 1.)
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
Chapter Four – Orphan Man
-0-
Magical children were often, Harry'd learnt from listening in on his parents' discussions, taught the basics at home, before being shipped off to Hogwarts at eleven. James and Sirius were both all for that model, but Lily was firm about wanting Harry to get some socialisation with other non-magical children by attending the local muggle primary.
"You remember what happened the last time he spent time with magical children," Lily reminded her husband when James tried to say they could invite over some of the adults they knew with kids, if it was socialisation she was worried about.
James snorted. "What? He went were-child and scared the kid shitless?"
"Language, James!"
Given that the conversation was taking place after Harry and his brothers had been tucked in, he thought the admonition somewhat unnecessary, but expected his mother was just trying to call his father out about his cursing any time she caught him.
James sighed, and Lily quietly pointed out, "He's a squib, and you know how magical children react to that. Give him the chance to make friends that won't see his inability to use magic as a sign that he's worthless."
"Okay, Lils. We'll try it your way."
They'd had to fake a paper trail to make sure Harry could start in September, but it wasn't a hard task when you could use magic. So, on the second of September, Harry found himself standing outside the Godric's Hollow primary with Remus and Lily – each burdened with one of his younger brothers – saying goodbye for the day. He didn't make a fuss, resigned to the forced education, but Will was practically inconsolable, and Harry felt for his godfather.
Harry motioned for Remus to kneel and, when he had, gently poked Will's nose. Will's eyes crossed a bit, still tear-filled, and Harry leant in to kiss his forehead, then pressed a finger to his lips.
"Secret?" Will whimpered.
Harry shook his head and brushed his thumb over a line of tears.
Will slumped back in Remus' arms. "Don't wanna go," he insisted.
Harry nodded in understanding, then firmed his expression and pointed between Chris and Will.
Will blinked, confused for a moment, before his eyes widened. "I protect Chris!" he declared.
Harry grinned and nodded.
Will wiggled in Remus' arms, trying to get a better look at where Chris was dozing in Lily's arms. "Muma, I'm protecting Chris. My job."
Lily smiled in relieved understanding. "Okay, but you can't protect him if you're crying."
Will scrubbed his hands against his cheeks. "Not crying! Protector!"
'Thank you,' Remus mouthed as he stood again.
Harry just grinned at him and waved before turning to head into the school.
However, school proved to be far more of a strain than anyone had expected, what with Harry's vow of silence. He butted heads with his teacher right at the start, when he refused to say his name or talk about himself. The other kids didn't seem bothered by his silence, perfectly content to fill it with their own chatter and screeching, but the teacher was clearly displeased.
He let himself be talked into playing house with a couple of girls, and tossed a ball around with a group of boys during their outside time after lunch. He followed directions to the letter, so long as no one was trying to make him talk, and was generally friendly and polite to everyone.
He waved to his new friends as they all parted ways at the gate, searching through the gathered adults for the one(s) they called theirs.
"Harry!" Will shouted before barrelling into his stomach.
Harry managed to keep his balance, barely, and wrapped his brother in a hug.
"Muma said Chris is sleepy, so she stayed home," Will chattered as he led Harry back to where Remus was waiting for them. "But me and Uncle Moony came because Uncle Moony said somebody has to come and he was looking at me so I said I can come and Muma can protect Chris for me and she said okay but Uncle Moony has to come too and Uncle Moony said that's a good idea because there is gone be lots of people and four eyes is better than two."
Harry grinned at Remus as they reached him and he rolled his eyes and asked, "Did you, perchance, give your voice to Will?"
Harry laughed, because, yeah, his brother had a serious case of motor mouth sometimes. Still, Harry's experience at school suggested that wasn't uncommon; rather, he was the odd one, which he already knew.
The following weeks matched his first day of school fairly closely: Harry got along with all of the other kids, and he was happy to participate in class, so long as he didn't have to talk. His teacher set herself on something of a warpath in regard to his silence, punishing him for it by refusing him playtime or a snack. He didn't particularly care, but some of his new-found friends got upset on his behalf, especially the girls who liked to drag him over to play house, as none of the other boys were willing to play the daddy.
Harry didn't report the abuse to his parents, though he was perfectly capable of writing them a note, or passing word on through Will, mostly because he just didn't care. He'd suffered far worse during his first life, both during primary school and at Hogwarts, and while a part of him understood that he had people in his life, now, who would rain hell down upon the heads of other adults lording their authority over him, he didn't see the point in going out of his way to complain about missing a couple of snacks.
That said, other kids in his class weren't so tight-lipped, and so other parents heard about it. And while the Potters weren't particularly involved in the community, and they'd never once attended church, they'd always been friendly towards their neighbours. So word filtered through the parents with children in Harry's class, the other parents in the area, and to a couple of their neighbours who, having a better than passing familiarity with Harry's silence, thought to ask Lily, "Has Harry mentioned that his teacher is being downright cruel to him?"
There followed a long silence, during which Harry turned a horrified gaze towards where his mother had been working with her front garden, while he minded his brothers in the yard.
Lily turned to look at him, and her eyes narrowed at his expression. "Harry, come here," she ordered, tone firm.
"Uh-oh," Will whispered, and Chris copied him before giggling.
Harry sighed and walked over to his mother and the neighbour, Ms Talbot, head hanging and feet dragging.
"You need to find some way to explain this to me, right now," Lily informed him. "What does Millie mean, your teacher's being cruel?"
Harry sucked his lower lip between his teeth to chew on, then mimed writing and pointed towards the house.
"Yes, fine," Lily agreed, a hint of resignation in her tone.
"He'd rather try writing the information?" Ms Talbot asked incredulously as Harry hurried into the house.
"He'll do anything to avoid speaking," Lily complained.
"I really don't know how you do it sometimes, Lily."
Using his worst handwriting and a crayon, Harry scrawled out the pertinent details, then brought it back outside.
Lily read it over with a frown, then pinned Harry with an expression that said she was furious, but most of it wasn't aimed at him. "Of course it's because you won't talk. But, Harry, why didn't you tell me?"
Harry shrugged and ducked his head, having no good response.
Lily sighed and used a finger under Harry's chin to lift his head. "Baby, I know Dad and I have given you a lot of responsibility, with your brothers, and you're good at handling problems on your own, but when an adult is being mean to you, you need to tell one of us, okay? Just like you'd let us know if Will or Chris broke a bone, there are some things that it's not your job to take care of. That's why Dad and I are here."
For some reason Harry couldn't hope to define, his eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, Harry," Lily breathed and pulled him into a hug. "I'm not angry at you, sweetheart. You're a good boy."
Harry nodded against her shoulder. He knew she wasn't mad, though he expected she was at least a little disappointed in him, but that wasn't the reason for the tears.
Someone who cares, he decided. Sirius had tried to fill that spot in the last reality, but Harry had been too angry and hurt from his first life to let him, especially with the weight of the hopes and dreams of every non-human already resting on his shoulders. Now, here, Lily and James wouldn't let him push them away, wouldn't let him take any more responsibility than watching his brothers entailed. There was a sort of freedom in that love.
For the first time in decades, Harry felt an ember of anger for that Voldemort – for all Voldemorts – who had given in to his paranoia and denied him this.
Maybe, Harry considered as Lily pushed him back towards Will and Chris, there's something positive about being a squib.
The final Monday of September, the thirtieth, found Harry being walked to his classroom by Lily and James, both wearing their 'angry parent' face. Sirius was home with Will and Chris, since Remus was recovering from the full moon the night before, but he'd been quick to offer additional stare-down support, had James or Lily deemed it necessary. (Lily had been the one to suggest he might be better served managing babysitting duty, given Remus' incapacitation, but it had been clear that she'd appreciated the offer.)
"Mrs White," Lily said when Harry's teacher turned to face them, a surprised and wary expression painting her face.
She caught sight of Harry, then, and her expression tightened. "Mr and Mrs Potter, I presume."
"You presume correctly," Lily agreed with the sort of cold smile that Harry really hoped was in his own repertoire. "We need to discuss your treatment of Harry."
"Oh?" Mrs White said, her voice edging towards nasty. "Is he finally ready to participate in class discussions?"
"Harry doesn't talk," James informed the woman, his voice hard. "He never has talked, to anyone, but he's perfectly capable of making himself understood. If you're having a problem with that, it's on you, not him."
Mrs White's face took on a distinct red shade. "Being able to talk is a necessity in the world, Mr Potter; if your son is having trouble with that concept, perhaps it's time you looked into schools which cater to special needs children."
"Harry is not a 'special needs' child," James spat, and Harry closed his eyes, afraid to watch the coming train wreck. "He's a smart boy, who just doesn't feel like talking!"
Mrs White smiled patronisingly. "Every parent thinks their child is smart, Mr Potter, but that's not always the case. You need to learn to accept the facts for what they are."
"James!" Lily snapped, and Harry opened his eyes to see his mother holding his father's arm tightly, James halfway through the motion to call his wand out of its holder. Mrs White had taken a step back, looking like she was only just realising that using more tact might have been the better option.
James took a deep breath. "We tried," he said to Lily and her mouth thinned before she nodded. He looked down at Harry. "Do you have anything in this classroom?"
Harry considered that for a moment, then nodded and went to collect the picture he'd drawn of his family off the board where everyone's had been put up. It had hardly been a masterpiece, art never having been his best subject, but he was attached to it.
When he returned, Lily reached down to pick him up, and he let her without complaint. Then they left the classroom together, removed him from the school's list of active students, and headed home. Will was ecstatic to have him home again, and Harry couldn't help but admit – to himself, at least – that a part of him had never liked having his brothers out of sight all day while he was at school.
That night, however, after debating with himself for a bit, he sighed and called, "Death?"
The apparition appeared after a beat, its stance seeming almost hopeful, Harry thought. "Master?"
"Mrs White. I don't want her dead, but if you have some way to torment her for a while, some way to make her skip town, maybe..."
Death let out a quiet, rasping laugh. "Consider it done, Master."
Harry flashed it a smile. "This is why you're my favourite."
Death let out another quiet laugh, then left Harry to climb under his covers and go to sleep.
A couple of afternoons later, while Harry was kicking a ball around in the back garden with Will, Lily walked out of the house, a couple of the kids that had been in Harry's class trailing her. "Harry, Oliver and Noah here were wondering if you'd be willing to come out and play with them and their friends the next street over. I said it was okay."
Harry looked at the two kids and pointed towards Will, who was looking a bit dejected.
"Your brother can totally come," Oliver agreed, and Will perked up.
"If your mum says it's okay," Noah added, always one to check with the nearest adult before he did something.
Lily laughed at the pleading looks Harry and Will both turned on her. "Go on, then. I could use a quiet day."
Harry rolled his eyes, since she'd still have Chris to make a fuss at the drop of a hat, but he could understand her looking forward to having two fewer kids running around for a couple hours.
As they were approaching the group of kids playing some kickball the next street over, Harry leant over and whispered in Will's ear, "No lights."
Will pouted. "Why not?"
Harry pressed his finger to his lips.
Will sighed, but nodded. "Secret," he murmured.
Harry smiled to himself; who knew something he'd taught his brother when he was just learning to talk and Harry had needed him to not mention the occasional appearance of Death would have stuck so well.
Snape came again that December, once Hogwarts was out for the holidays. Between the early hour and the lack of snow, most of the kids were still indoors, so Harry and Will were sitting in the living room. Harry was colouring in one of his books, watching as Will kicked a ball around with Chris. (Chris, amusingly enough, had followed Harry's example of being the quiet child – though he was plenty willing to talk, when he wanted something – so most of the noise in the house came from Will, especially if his imaginary friend, Tom, was "visiting". And, yes, Harry had choked the first time he'd heard his brother's friend's name.)
The knock on the door startled Chris into missing his kick and he overbalanced, landing hard on his behind. Harry and Will were at his side before he could react to the shock, comforting him quick enough that Lily wasn't even aware that anything had happened as she opened the door.
"Okay, Chris?" Will pleaded as Chris' face scrunched up. "You're not hurt, you're okay."
"I've got you," Harry whispered, quiet enough that only his brothers could have heard him. He picked Chris up, and he clung to Harry's neck as he somewhat awkwardly – Chris was getting too big for Harry to carry him around, really – brought him back to where Harry had been sitting with his colouring things and sat back down, his brother in his lap. Will followed after him, kneeling next to Harry and petting Chris' hair as Harry turned to a new page in his colouring-in book and offered it and a crayon to Chris.
"Everything okay?" Lily asked as she walked past, Snape trailing her.
"Chris fell, but he's okay," Will reported.
Harry smiled reassuringly, while Chris ignored everyone as he went to town with his crayon on the picture Harry'd opened the book to.
Lily smiled back. "Okay. Are you going out to play with your friends today?"
Harry considered that for a moment, then looked between Snape and Chris.
"I'm pretty sure I can manage Chris even with Sev around," Lily commented, clearly amused. Snape snorted next to her, watching the interaction with dark eyes that looked almost fond. (And far less tired than last year.)
Harry shrugged and nodded, then pointed to the clock sitting on the table behind him and to the side a bit, holding up two and then three fingers.
"In a few hours," Lily translated, and Harry nodded. "Okay. Let me know when you're heading out."
Harry nodded his understanding and returned his attention to watching Chris 'colour' the page he'd been pointed to, while the adults went into the kitchen. Will was helpfully offering Chris new crayons after a few scribbles, so the picture had turned into a hodgepodge of colour.
"I think he's worse than I was," Will informed Harry, sounding quite proud of that fact.
Harry rolled his eyes, remembering the time Will had got a hold of one of Harry's colouring-in books and used up an entire box of crayons scribbling over coloured and un-coloured pictures; he somehow doubted Chris would ever top that.
For Voldemort's birthday that year, Harry had found some intact scrolls under the hardened lava at Vesuvius. They'd been saturated with fading preservation spells, and the room they'd been hidden in had muggle repelling and notice-me-not charms that were still active, explaining how no one had found them sooner.
"He seems to be waiting up for you, Master," Death offered after Harry had napped for a couple hours, intending for Death to wake him once Voldemort had gone to bed, so he could slip the gift in unnoticed.
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Oh? Well then, I suppose we've left him waiting long enough.
Voldemort was, indeed, still up when Harry stepped into his room. He turned around as the doorway closed behind Harry, wand not in his hand, for once. "Do you have someone watching for me to go to sleep?" the dark lord asked, tone conversational.
Harry chuckled and stepped forward, holding out the bag of scrolls. "It makes gift-giving many times easier when there's no expectation of a thank you, I've discovered."
"I wouldn't know," Voldemort admitted as he accepted the bag and peeked inside.
"No," Harry murmured as he hopped up into a chair, "I don't expect you've given a great many gifts over the years."
Voldemort shot him a suspicious look, then shook his head and took out one of the scrolls. "What rare and impossible gift have you unearthed this year, Scythe?"
"Just some scrolls that survived Vesuvius," Harry admitted with a casual shrug. Voldemort shot him a startled look. "I can't promise how interesting they might be, but their owner has been sitting around in the Realm of Death, waiting for her spells to wear off so someone would find the room they'd been hidden in. When she heard I was looking for rare stores of knowledge, she got word to me that they existed and where to find them."
"You don't read them before you give them to me?" Voldemort asked, regretfully setting the bag aside.
Harry snorted. "I'm five, Voldemort. Anyone catches me reading Atlantean tomes or ancient Roman scrolls, there's going to be questions." He shrugged. "I kept copies of what I could find in Atlantis; once I can get away with reading thicker books, or my brother figures out how to cast illusions on things, I'll start in on them."
Voldemort grimaced. "I suppose, were you magical, you would have already cast illusion spells."
"Maybe," Harry agreed, unbothered. "Or maybe not; my wandless magic skills were never the best." When Voldemort nodded, looking thoughtful, Harry drily added, "While I appreciate the wand you sent, and fully intend to use it, should the occasion arise, I believe the ever-changing need of illusion spells would be too complicated for even you to properly attach to a wand."
Voldemort startled, then allowed a wry smile. "You may be correct."
Harry nodded and scratched at his nose. "Was there a reason you were staying up, other than in hopes of ambushing me when I tried sneaking your gift in?"
The dark lord snorted, looking far too human with amusement lighting his pale face. "Minor curiosity, on my part: Did your parents start you at a muggle school this year?"
"Ah." Harry sighed and nodded. "They did, but my teacher took exception to my muteness. Mum and Dad pulled me out, and Uncle Remus has been dropping by during school days to help Mum teach me some things. They're kind of teaching Will, too, since he's there and I don't really need that much help."
"Will is...?"
"Ah." Harry shifted in his seat. "I have two brothers: William is a bit more than a year younger than me, Christopher is not quite four years younger. Will started showing accidental magic in January."
Voldemort nodded, his expression saying he was internalising the information. If it hadn't all been a matter of public record, Harry might have considered lying, just to keep the dark lord on his toes.
"Was there a reason you were asking about my schooling?" Harry enquired.
Voldemort glanced over his shoulder, towards the piles of parchment on his desk. "Some things occurred to me."
When the dark lord didn't continue, Harry sighed. "Are you going to share, or shall I just wait for my parents to start whispering behind closed doors at night when they think my brothers and I are sleeping?"
Voldemort snorted, turning amused eyes on him. "You spy on your parents?"
"Werewolf hearing; so long as they think we're asleep, they don't bother with any spells to keep me from hearing whatever bad news has come up. It's actually how I found out that a large portion of the Order of the Phoenix would be willing to take an offer of amnesty if they could be promised that their children would be safe."
Voldemort raised his hairless eyebrows in response. "I'd wondered why you were so certain that would bring results." He tapped a finger against his thin lips a few times, looking thoughtful, then nodded to himself and stood. "You said, your first visit," he said as he paced over to where a map of the United Kingdom, Ireland, and parts of the continent was attached to the wall, "that I have to keep the children safe to secure the adults."
"Not exactly, but the meaning is near enough," Harry allowed.
Voldemort offered him a cold smile. "It worked," he said. "I whittled Dumbledore's forces down to nearly nothing, and when I promised to make a wizard's oath, trading the lives of him and his remaining followers for the promise of safety for any current Hogwarts students, they came willingly."
"And you sort of upheld your promise."
"Be silent," Voldemort hissed, splaying his fingers out over the map, covering the part of Scotland where Harry knew Hogwarts resided. "My promise was sufficiently held, as indicated by my continued ability to use magic. Unlike some." He offered Harry a nasty smile.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Super impressive, holding your ability to summon objects over the head of a five-year-old." He faked a yawn. "Speaking of, have you any idea how far past my bedtime it is?"
"Cute," Voldemort retorted, scowling, as he turned his attention back to the map. "I don't expect you're aware of how small this year's class was?"
Harry frowned, remembering what Snape had whispered to his mother while they'd been holed up in the kitchen. "Nine first years." Voldemort offered him a surprised look. "Headmaster Snape and my mum were friends in school; he comes over at the start of the winter holidays and they catch up."
"Werewolf hearing," Voldemort murmured to himself, nodding. "I allowed halfbloods, but no mudbloods. Between that and the war, we were lacking in incoming witches and wizards." He met Harry's eyes. "At current, the trend will hold. I can...suggest that current families aim for more children, but that's still an eleven year period with a limited number of graduating students entering the workforce. If any battles break out between now and when they finish Hogwarts, there won't be enough to cover all the job openings."
Harry nodded to himself, frowning. "You need the muggleborns to have an effective flow of wands, but there's no way your supporters will stand for it, not the way they feel about muggleborns."
Voldemort snorted. "I can force them to accept it, but they won't be happy, and the last thing any of us need is a rebellion while our world is still healing from the past decade."
Harry rubbed at his eyes; he hadn't realised exactly how long the war had dragged on. "Merlin, yeah. Fuck."
Voldemort let out a choked noise that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.
Harry offered him a tired smile. "Can you find a way to spin things so they keep their mutterings as nothing more dangerous than mutterings?"
"That is the question," Voldemort agreed, turning back to his map. He traced his finger along the path that the Hogwarts Express took between Hogsmeade and London. "It occurred to me, too, that accepting the mudbloods into our society would do nothing for us if they simply decided to return to the muggle world after."
"Difficult to do, without a muggle education," Harry commented, and Voldemort snorted. "Though, yes, there are ways to get around that. And, too, if they don't feel welcomed in the magical world, they're not likely to want to stay." He'd known plenty of magical sorts, after the war in his first reality, who had felt too spooked by everything they'd gone through, so had returned to the muggle world. Too, in his second reality, plenty of magical people – muggleborns and halfbloods, for the most part – had felt uncomfortable working beside non-humans, and so had turned to the muggle world, considering it the lesser of two evils.
"Without the promise of pureblood acceptance, we would need to force a connection," Voldemort said, turning to Harry with bright eyes. "When they would get their first Hogwarts letter, they will instead be given a choice: come to the magical world and not be allowed to return to the muggle world until after they've completed their education, or have their magic bound and all memory of magic obliviated from them and their parents."
Harry's eyes widened, surprised at the idea. "Less chance of accidental magic cover-ups over the summers, no muggle parents abusing their children over the holidays, and they'll have seven years of very limited muggle exposure. It's..."
"Genius?" Voldemort suggested, smug.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I have one concern, and a couple suggestions."
The dark lord turned away, his smug expression morphing into a scowl. "Yes, I somehow expected that."
Harry snorted. "Don't get me wrong, it's brilliant, but there is a single factor you don't have sufficient familiarity with to consider: Familial bonds. The children and their parents aren't going to want to cut off all communication for seven years. You can explain owls to them, maybe, or set up one day a year where the families can meet with their kids in a neutral location."
Voldemort sneered. "That completely–"
"No," Harry interrupted, eyes hard as he met the dark lord's disgusted look. "If you told me that I was going to have to spend seven years neither seeing nor hearing from my parents and my brothers, just so I could have magic, I would tell you to go fuck yourself. And I would give nearly anything to have magic again, Tom."
Voldemort snarled at the use of his given name, and Harry bared too-sharp teeth at him in response.
Voldemort looked away first, his shoulders slumping. "One day a year," he muttered, turning back to his map. "Christmas?"
"Some time in there would have the greatest impact," Harry agreed, forcing his voice to remain even. "Maybe the first weekend? Not when the train's out, but the weekend after? Send out letters at the beginning of the month, letting them know when and where, and asking them to reply, so you know which children are going. Aurors posted means nothing can get out of hand, and no one can try stealing their child away." He sighed. "Still, consider allowing post. Maybe something limited? Just over the summers, with the excuse that you don't want it interfering with their schoolwork?"
"I'll consider it," Voldemort allowed.
Harry nodded; that was more than he could have hoped for. "One of my suggestions was that you make it clear to the families and the children, when you collect them, that this would only be for seven years. If you'll allow any sort of contact during that time, make that clear, too. You're going to get more agreements if you tell them it's not forever."
"Obviously."
Harry inclined his head. "My other suggestion is that you ask current magical families if they're willing to host muggleborns during the holidays."
Voldemort turned to look at him, expression thoughtful. "Give them deeper ties?"
Harry smiled. "Exactly. Let them see how magical families work, how a magical household functions, how we celebrate holidays." He shook his head. "But let it be with families who have kids themselves. Preferably in the muggleborn's year, but within a couple years either direction will do. Then they'll have someone to relate to, someone their own age who they can turn to if they've got a question. And the parents, those who have some compunctions about offering shelter to a muggleborn, will be more welcoming if they've got their own kid watching their actions."
Voldemort was nodding slowly, clearly liking the idea. "An essay as summer homework, covering everything they learnt, will help ensure things stick, and may help to spot any abuse."
Harry couldn't help but smile at that brief glimmer of concern for the children in question. "Also, give them a name that they can send an owl or floo message to, should they feel unsafe. It won't stop everything, but it will give them options."
"Yes. I'll have something sorted out before December of next year."
Harry nodded. "I'll leave it to you. Was that everything?"
"No," Voldemort admitted, returning to his chair. "It occurred to me, as I was thinking about the mudblood problem, that I don't know a great deal about the handling of squibs."
"Yes," Harry agreed drily, "we're something of the dirty secret you shove in the attic and hope never figures out how to open the trap door."
Voldemort eyed him with amusement. "Or throw to the nearest wolfpack, in some cases."
"Those children have at least one were parent," Harry pointed out. "Less throwing, more walking arm-in-arm with occasional howling for echolocation."
Voldemort let out a startled laugh. "Do they really?"
Harry snorted and shook his head. "Not in human shape, not usually. But, sure, if you get lost from the pack, you're going to howl or make some sort of noise so everyone else knows you're looking for them, and they'll howl back so you know where they are."
"Sensible," Voldemort allowed before shaking his head. "Are you getting more of a muggle or magical education, at this point?"
"I don't expect they differ much, as young as I am," Harry replied a bit drily. "Learning letters and numbers, basic reading and writing skills." He considered the question for a moment as Voldemort nodded, frowning. "I think I understand where you're going with this, though; I'm getting the same education that my magical brother is getting, but with less 'Stop creating dancing lights at the drop of the hat, William, it's really distracting'."
Voldemort chuckled. "Does he really?"
Harry grimaced. "Better than uncontrolled summoning of everything in sight. I taught him the light spell after he broke his hand trying to catch something he'd summoned."
"Ah, yes. Slightly less dangerous use of excess magic."
"Slightly," Harry agreed, amused. "We're not covering history or world events or anything, but, again, age. Still, I've always understood everything, and I've a fair foundation in the magical world, as well as a reasonable knowledge of the muggle one–"
"You were muggle-raised?" Voldemort asked, his eyes glinting.
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not going to figure out who I was, Voldemort."
"You don't know that."
"At any rate," Harry interrupted, "most of what I'm picking up outside of lessons has been magical in nature. However, my brief stint in a muggle school did net me some friends, and I pick up muggle trivia when I play with them during the afternoons and weekends. Too, having a muggleborn mum helps some, as we've always had a telephone, and about half of the appliances in our house, as well as the lights, run on electricity. The things that a few spells cast in the vicinity of them won't completely fry beyond all repair."
Voldemort nodded. "So, most of your muggle knowledge at this point comes from your mother and those friends you made through muggle school. That...does serve as some assistance."
Harry cocked his head to the side. "What are you up to? And how much of an effect is it going to have on me?"
Voldemort smirked. "Minimal, I expect, given you're treated less as a 'dirty little secret'." He shook his head, expression turning more serious. "Most of the stories of squib childhoods that I've heard involve a very limited magical learning and no muggle learning at all – assuming they're not left in a muggle village as soon as the prognosis is given – coupled with neglect and loneliness, and end with the adult squib being tossed towards the ministry in hopes that they can find a menial job that a squib can do and involves little in the way of intelligence."
Harry sighed. "That doesn't surprise me."
"But you don't approve, I expect?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at the dark lord.
Voldemort snorted. "It is something we share," he admitted. "I was considering passing a law that all squibs receive a mixed education until they're of age to receive a Hogwarts letter, had they magic, whereupon they're given the option to continue living in the magical world, likely apprenticed to some magic-free duty, or they can choose to join the muggle world."
"Ask if the muggleborn parents who are sending their child to Hogwarts would be willing to do a seven-year exchange," Harry realised, straightening in his seat. "We're not common enough to fill every empty space, but some families will have a child they can continue to care for, as well as a glimpse into our world that they otherwise might not have had. And the squib gets a family that doesn't reject them as faulty."
Voldemort inclined his head. "Wereborns, I expect, will have their own system in place, but it's an alternative they can consider for those children who would prefer living in the muggle world, eventually, so long as there are clear safeties in place against accidents or abuse. And squibs will be guaranteed at least an education until they're eleven, and the chance to get away from a bad home situation after that."
Harry smiled to hide the way his heart ached at this show of how much Voldemort cared about abused kids when he wasn't ruined by having too many horcruxes strewn about the country. "Specify that magical families either look into local muggle schooling, or find out if there are any muggleborns willing to manage private study; I wouldn't trust a pureblood, or even most halfbloods, to provide a sufficient muggle education. Especially not to a squib."
Voldemort grimaced. "Indeed. And any mudblood tutors will have to have some current familiarity with the muggle world, I expect, or it won't do much good."
"Very true." Harry hummed. "Maybe put a 'get the child out of your house for hours every weekday' spin on the muggle school idea? It's a better option in regards to getting them social skills and some sunlight." He considered Voldemort as the man nodded in understanding. "Speaking of people who need sunlight."
Voldemort's expression didn't change for a moment, clearly distracted by trying to figure out how best to get purebloods to consider muggle schooling the better option for their squib offspring, but then he started, caught Harry's stare, and scowled. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"
Harry laughed. "Was there anything else?"
Voldemort shook his head, scowl easing. "If something occurs to me which I am unable to either work out on my own, or cannot find someone more likely to serve as an assistant in these matters, I shall leave a note for your watchers."
Harry nodded. "Good night, then. And happy birthday."
Voldemort snorted, turning away.
Harry shrugged and hopped from his chair directly in the Realm of Death, then headed home, generally pleased with how the next year was looking.
The legislations about muggleborns and squibs hit all the major news outlets of the magical world on the sixth of January, a great deal of curiosity surrounding the originator of them, given that Voldemort hadn't declared them as his, which Harry wondered at. They went through the ministry, taking minor hits from purebloods left and right, but suffering little change from such by the time they came before the Wizengamot in early February. They were both passed on the thirteenth, again with little change.
And then it became clear why Voldemort hadn't signed his name, as the laws were shown to him for final approval, given he was basically the leader of the magical United Kingdom (though they did still have a minister, who everyone knew was in the dark lord's pocket). Harry realised that the laws never would have made it as far as they had if the purebloods had known Voldemort had drafted them, because they were expecting him to bin them on the spot. Whereas, sending them through the whole circuit without a known author, gave the half- and muggleborns working along the route the security to suggest changes or voice their thoughts.
"It's never going to happen," Lily said bitterly over lunch on the fourteenth, after the wireless reported Voldemort had the laws for final review. The whole Potter family had been avidly following the drama – save Chris, who didn't understand what the big deal was – because Harry was a squib and that law would be certain to affect him. James had even managed to get a copy of the law before it went through the Wizengamot, which was how Harry knew that it, at least, had seen very little revision. "He's never going to pass it. Not the muggleborn law. He might pass the one for fair treatment of squibs," she added, offering Harry a strained smile, "but I honestly don't think he cares enough about how mistreated most are."
Harry ducked his head, having no response to that. A part of him was cackling at the events, because he knew where the laws had come from, knew there was nothing holding them back now, save for Voldemort's convoluted sense of drama.
"It'll pass," Will insisted, though he only sort of understood, Harry knew.
"We can't be cert–" Lily started.
"It will pass!" Will shouted, and a mini explosion sent his half-eaten sandwich into the air. Chris giggled quietly when it landed in front of him, and Harry quickly reached over to take it away before Chris could try sticking it in his mouth, as he had a minor allergy to mustard, and Will always insisted on mustard on his sandwiches. No matter what they were.
"William, we don't shout at the table," Lily informed him, putting on her strict face, "and we certainly don't throw food, magically or otherwise."
Will slumped in his seat. He glanced over at Harry as he returned the abused sandwich and whispered, "It'll pass, Harry. It'll be good."
Harry smiled and ruffled his brother's hair. And, when Lily turned her attention to Chris, Harry pressed a finger to his lips and winked.
Will, who could probably be convinced that Harry had hung the moon, had someone cared to try, grinned widely and nodded.
Voldemort kept mum for the weekend, letting the purebloods have their momentary victory, then passed both laws Monday morning.
"Oh my God," Lily breathed, staring down at The Daily Prophet, which had arrived a little late due to the last-minute news addition.
James was standing at her shoulder, reading over the news himself and wearing a flummoxed expression, which was slowly brightening with happiness.
Sirius showed up shortly afterward, grinning wide enough to split his face in half. He picked Harry up as soon as he reached him and spun him around in the air while Harry held on for dear life. "That nasty old bastard got all of them! I went by Grimmauld Place just to hear Mum screeching like a banshee. Merlin, I'm half tempted to suggest we make Voldemort an honorary Marauder for pulling that sh– Ah. Prank. For pulling that prank. Sorry, Lils."
Lily rolled her eyes. "Put Harry down before he throws up on you, Sirius. You'd deserve it, but still."
Harry was set back into his chair and he held his head while Sirius hugged Lily and ruffled Will's hair.
Remus showed up while Sirius was talking, loudly, with James. "Hey, pup. Sirius get you?" he asked, gently rubbing Harry's back.
Harry grimaced and nodded as he let go of his head, feeling a little steadier.
"Are you going to be okay?"
Harry nodded, then offered his godfather a bright grin.
Remus smiled down at him. "I heard. It's awesome news for a lot of people. Not much change for you, mind, though your mum might try to get you back into the muggle primary, now."
Harry made a face. But, then again, he would have a different teacher.
"We'll see. Maybe James will manage to talk her out of it," Remus offered.
Harry shrugged, deciding he would be willing to give muggle school another try, if he had to; it wasn't like they were sending him off to live with the Dursleys.
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 || 3 - Death and Living Reconciled
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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