Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Aftermath ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

-Aftermath-
measured_doses



----------------->He was a thin boy, with hallowed cheeks and bony hips. His wrists were so tiny they seemed feminine. He looked as if he hadn't been fed in some years. When the scouting party found him, they mistakenly took him for dead. It was Finnigan who realized the kid was alive. He raised his hand, waving the others over as they'd moved past to continue scouting. "He's alive," he said softly, his breath creating a soft haze of white in the cool air.

"Alive? There's no way," Fetcher protested, but when he reached Finnigan's side he crouched down and pressed his fingers into the emancipated boys neck. A few moments later he looked up in surprise, "He /is/ alive."

"Apparate him to Mungo's, we-"

"Good lord," Fetcher gasped. He reached up with shaking fingers and carefully pushed the boy's hair off his forehead.

In the boy's forehead was an angry red scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Finnigan stared in great surprise, and then he crouched down as well, "Potter?"

He touched the scar himself, then jerked his hand back, "Dumbledore... I have to take him to Dumbledore."

"His location is secure," Fetcher pointed out, "You can't apparate there, and this guy isn't going anywhere on foot."

Finnigan ran a hand through his hair, tugging a little, "All right, look, you go to Dumbledore, tell him what we've got. I'll take him to Mungo's, to Granger. She'll keep things quiet, she worked with the Auror's during the war." He looked up, "You lot, get back to the mission, Fetcher and I are out. Kinsley, you are now leader of the group. Understood?"

"We got it," Kinsley said with a quick nod.

"Nobody says a word about this," Finnigan added as he pulled the damaged boy into his arms.

The others walked away, except for Fetcher, "I think it might be better to just finish him off, Finnigan."

"No," Finnigan said sharply, "We're not like them, Fetcher. We're not. Get Dumbledore, tell him where I am. Tell him what you saw here."

Fetcher sighed, then nodded, "All right. Okay." He looked at the boy in Finnigan's arms one last time before he shook his head a little and raised his wand. A twist of his wrist and a pop later and he was gone.

Finnigan had trouble pulling his wand out with the boy in his arms, but he managed it. A few moments later he had his wand in hand and he had apparated into St. Mungos'.

As usual St. Mungo's was a busy, noisy, center of business. There were people lined up for what seemed like miles at the front desk. The receptionist looked as disaffected as ever, sending people on their way without ever looking up from her book. He knew her name, but at the moment he couldn't seem to remember it. He pushed his way through the lineup, glancing down a few times at the boy. The boy's hair was covering his forehead, and the infamous scar, much to Finnigan's relief. He ignored the irate protests and curse words as he cut his way to the front of the line. "Auror business, Ministry business," he said when people tried to stop him, or even pull him back.

Injured wizards weren't known for their patience. Finnigan didn't care, in that moment nothing mattered more than the boy in his arms. He did spare a quick glance for the wizard with the head that was five times the size of a normal head, but he didn't waste any time with that one.

"Becky," he said when he reached the front desk.

"The name is Carol," the receptionist rolled her eyes but then focused back on her book.

"Right, Carol, I need to speak to Hermione Granger. No, I need to see. This minute, and I need a room."

"She's busy."

"Make her unbusy. This is Auror business, Carol. Interfere and you'll be looking for a new job, and quick."

Carol glanced up, she eyed him skeptically for a few long moments, then she reached up to push her fuzzy blonde hair out of her face. "Just a minute," she started to press buttons on a device on her desk that he couldn't see, then a small owl burst from the desk and fluttered away at top speed, "please," she added belatedly.

Just a few minutes passed before the owl returned. Carol took the note from it's leg, read it, then nodded, "Go on up then. Room 312."

----------------->Room 312 was an office. Finnigan pushed everything off the small desk before laying the boy on it. The boy was too long, obviously, his legs hung off the end from the knee. Finnigan rolled his wand in his hand, then tapped it against his leg. He paced in front of the desk. Every now and then he'd raise his wand, the words of a healing spell on the tip of his tongue, then he'd lower his wand and go back to pacing. When the door finally opened and Hermione Granger walked in he let out a sigh of relief.

As usual her hair was a frizzy, curly mass of brown atop her head. She had a quill stuck behind her ear, and was sipping from a white cup. She hesitated when she saw the boy on the desk, then wisely closed the door behind her, "What's going on Seamus?"

"He's going on," Finnigan gestured to the boy on the desk, "Look," he reached out, pulling the hair up to reveal the scar.

Granger dropped her cup, but she barely seemed to notice as she rushed forward. "Shit," she breathed, touching the scar as Finnigan had done earlier, "is this real?"

"It has to be."

"It can't be... he died. We all saw it."

"We all created it," Finnigan corrected sourly, "and yet here he is."

Granger placed the back of her hand against the boy's cheek, then started waving her wand over his body. "He's near death," she said quietly, "... catatonic... there's intense magic around him. It's probably what's keeping him alive."

"What kind of magic?"

"I don't know. I've never seen anything quite like it, but it's powerful. Can't you feel it?" Granger waved her wand and the boy's robes fell open.

"Is it really Potter?"

Granger shook her head, "I don't know, look at this... I've never seen marks like these before." Black, chalky marks all up the boys chest. They seemed to be forming patterns, but Finnigan didn't recognize it as any written language or any shape that he knew. Sometimes they looked a bit like a circle, or triangle, but then things went off or a swirl was added.

Granger reached out, running her finger over the substance and lifting her hand. Her finger now had a bit of the black chalk on it. She stared, and then let out a gasp as the black began to spread from the tip of her finger, down her hand, and wrapped itself around her wrist. It stopped there. "We need Severus Snape," Granger whispered shakily.

"I can get him but... are you going to be okay alone with him?"

"Look at him, Finnigan, does he look like a threat?" Granger sighed, wiping her hand on the bedcovers and frowning as the black marks faded off her arm onto the material of the bed cover.

"I don't know, what does a threat look like?"

Granger smiled at him patiently and patted him on the arm, "Go on Seamus. I'll be fine."

Finnigan hesitated still, but a stern look from her and he retreated from the room. He knew enough about Hermione Granger to know that she wasn't a girl who handled coddling well. She was as independant as they came. He'd make this quick though, he didn't relish the thought of leaving her alone for too long. He ran out of Mungo's, and when he reached the street he apparated to Hogwarts.

----------------->Dumbledore's office was small and understated. On the walls he had photographs of his family, all of which were moving, mostly arguing. Dumbledore's desk was longer than he was, and wider than Umbridge, which was quite the feat. Dumbledore himself was a tall, thin man whose beard had grown longer than his legs. He tucked it under his robes most of the time. At the moment he was sitting at his desk, eyes closed in bliss as he happily smoked his favorite pipe. Today was his day off, no transfiguration lessons due to the classroom being in a state of chaos. The day before a student had transfigured his desk into a Ooombahm, and the blasted creature had torn the classroom to pieces. The damage would have been fixed, except for the fact that the Ooombahm was still on the loose in the room and until it was captured or transfigured back to a desk the classroom was under lockdown.

Ah, these were the days Dumbledore enjoyed most. Collossal mistakes were often the most amusing. Unlike most of the professors in this school, Dumbledore took everthing with a grain of salt. He puffed on his pipe, the smoke escaping his lips forming various animal shapes. A smokey giraffe, followed by a smokey dog. The dog chased the giraffe around a bit before they both faded away.

He was quite enjoying himself, and so relaxed that when the door burst open he jumped to his feet, dropping the pipe.

"Fetcher, sir," the panting man explained, "I would have flooed but your fireplace seems to be off the network."

"It is," Dumbledore recognized Fetcher as not only an Auror, but a member of the Order, of which Dumbledore was the head.

"I have news," Fetcher closed the door behind him and raising his wand he cast a quick spell, so no one passing could enter the room, or overhear what was being said through any magical means.

Dumbledore was duly intriqued. He held out his hand to the chair in front of his desk, "Please, sit, explain what this news is."

Fetcher hurried forward, but he fidgeted a moment before jerkily sitting down. "We found something... during a routine scouting mission."

"Something?" Dumbledore sat down slowly. He retrieved his pipe and after rubbing the end on his robes he placed it between his lips once more. Now his smoke plumes were forming different shapes, question marks, exclamation marks, and lazy little swirls.

"Someone, more accurately," Fetcher hesitated, then blurted, "Harry Potter. Or rather, what seems to be Harry Potter. The scar on his forehead is the same, even if the body is... difficult to identify."

Dumbledore set his pipe down, "... Potter?" His tone was completely changed now. That was not a name he expected to hear ever again, especially not along with the words; we found. "A mistake?"

"We don't know, sir. Finnigan has taken him to Mungo's, to Hermione Granger. He was near death when we found him."

Dumbledore nodded and stood, "Then we shall go to St. Mungo's. I must see this boy for myself."

----------------->"Mal-nourished, it seems as if he hasn't aten in... oh, months," Granger was rubbing her hands against a cloth repeatedly as she spoke. They stood in her office, Fetcher remained in the room with the boy, Finnigan had not yet returned from his quest to retrieve Severus Snape. Upon Dumbledore's arrival, Granger pulled him to her office to explain the patients condition, "There is heavy magic about him, I believe it is linked somehow to the black chalk that was drawn on his body. I have been unable to do extensive work on him because any magic I attempt is repelled by the chalk."

"Chalk?"

"That's the only word I can think to use to describe it, I have never seen anything like it Professor."

Dumbledore nodded, "Severus?"

"He will be arriving soon."

"He has some experience with dark magic, if you cannot recognize the substance, I am quite sure he is the only remaining option."

"And you sir, do you want a look?"

Dumbledore smiled, "You know the answer to that, Miss Granger."

Granger lowered her head, a small smile tilting her lips, "Of course, sir. There's one last thing, sir..."

Dumbledore watched her. He waited with a patient little smile on his face. He was terribly calm, considering the situation, his calm made her feel a bit better. From the moment the boy was presented to her, her heart had been beating at an uncomfortably fast pace. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"He is far too young, sir. If he were the real Harry Potter... he would be around thirty years of age. But the one in that room is, at the most, sixteen years old." This is the one thing that had bothered her the most, "He looks like Potter did at that age, and he has the scar, but... it's not possible is it? To go back in time? Well, with time turners yes but..."

"Miss Granger, relax," Dumbledore smiled, "I am sure there is an explanation, and as soon as Severus arrives, we will be closer to that explanation."

----------------->Severus Snape was not one who enjoyed being disturbed, especially not when he was on the edge of finishing an extremely delicate, and difficult potion that needed all his attention. It was no great surprise that when the alarms went off his first reaction was to unleash the hounds. He resisted this urge only because he had no desire to be tried for murder. Instead he sent a house elf to interrogate their 'guest', and to send the bastard away if it was not something urgent.

He wasn't surprised when the door opened and someone walked in, but he didn't look up either. Just a few more stirs and things would be perfect.

"Severus Snape, sir! We have Harry Potter."

"What?" Snape looked up sharply and in doing so hesitated in the last stir. Immediately the potion let out a loud hiss, "oh no," he growled, looking down in dismay as the potion turned from orange to a mottled green, "No! NO NO NO!" He threw the stirring stick across the room and in a fit of anger pushed the cauldron over.

His 'guest', Finnigan, scurried backwards to avoid being touched by the boiling contents.

"NO!" Snape shouted one last time before he turned and paced away. He rested his hands on the wall, breathing deeply as he attempted to calm himself down.

Finnigan, wisely, remained quiet as he waited for Snape to speak first. At one time Snape had been his potions professor, Finnigan knew well never to intterupt Snape during a temper tantrum.

"Potter you say?" Snape asked, when finally he had calmed. He turned to look at Finnigan, waving his wand to clean up the mess of the tipped cauldron.

"Yes, sir, Harry Potter. We believe. There is magic surrounding him. Powerful. We need your help in sorting things out."

"Where is he?"

"St. Mungo's, with Healer Granger."

"Granger?" Snape sighed heavily. Granger was an intelligent woman, and a hard worker, but he despised her lack of common sense and her insistent urge to challenge him. Even as a student she'd shown no fear in regards to him, unlike the other students in his classes.

"We need to go sir, immediately."

"Fine. Lead the way, Finnigan."

----------------->"It's a ... dimension spell," Snape had been examining the 'patient' for the last twenty minutes. He finally looked up from his examination.

"A dimension spell?" Granger shook her head, "But that's not possible. Those are myths."

"Hmm..." Dumbledore rubbed at his long beard, stroking it in a calming manner. He nodded, "It makes sense."

"No, there's no way."

"It's a dimension spell, Miss. Granger, there's no doubt. This chalky substance is Hertooth Ash, the magic surrounding him is of the darkest and most powerful. I have no doubt what this is, and I can assure you that there are only a few people who could perform a spell like this and none of them are alive today." Snape looked down at the Harry Potter who lay on the bed. He was, indeed, Harry Potter, of this Snape had no doubt.

"The question is, is his heart as black as our Potter's was?"

"I don't understand," Granger said softly, "I don't."

"I will contact the Potter's, they have a right to know, and a right to decide where the boy goes." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "we will have to decide whether or not to release this to the press."

"The press?" Granger shook her head, "No. No, none of this makes any sense. It's not even possible."

"And what other explanation would you accept, Granger? Time travel? Or perhaps he has risen from the dead? Would those explanations be more favorable? I am telling you what it is, and there is no other answer." Snape looked down at Potter, and a slow smile tilted his lips, "He has been touched by magic we could only dream of." He reached out, touching the boy's cold cheek.

Dumbledore nodded, "We will need to keep him under observation, at least until he wakes. I think, in the end, what we do with him will be up to the Potter's."

"Sir? How can you-"

"He is their son, Miss Granger. He has done nothing, and the sins of his double should not be cast upon him."

Granger shook his head, "No... this just doesn't make sense."

"It is my decision."

"It's the wrong decision," Granger said firmly.

Dumbledore looked at her, his thin eyebrows raising. Granger did not meet his gaze, she looked away instead, "It is wrong," she said again, before she turned and walked out.

"Well, it's good to know she hasn't changed at all since I last saw her," Snape murmured.

"Dimensional magic, Severus? Really?"

Snape nodded, "There's no doubt, Albus."

Dumbledore sighed, "How likely is it... that he will have the same illness as our Potter?"

"Considering he has the same scar on his forehead, rather high."

Dumbledore nodded, "And what do you think we should do with him?"

"I do believe you are right sir, it is the Potter's right to decide what to do with him."

"You are humoring me, aren't you Severus?"

Snape smiled, "Isn't that what I always do sir?"

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

"... and Headmaster McGonagall?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "I will tell her."

----------------->Sirius Black was asleep, his head in Remus Lupin's lap. Lupin ran his fingers slowly through Sirius' long black hair as he continued conversing with Lily Potter. "In truth, I'm not looking forward to Friday," Remus admitted sheepishly.

"Remus?" Lily laughed softly, "You're not looking forward to being considered a true citizen?"

"I've never been seen as anything but dangerous, Lily, I don't know... I'm not sure what to think, or what to feel."

"You should feel happy, and while it's natural to be a little scared, nothing but good will come from this, Remus. I can feel it."

Remus nodded and looked up with a small smile, "You're right. Of course you're right."

A few moments earlier James Potter had been called from the room by his son, Jeremy, who was going on about a face in the fireplace. He returned now, looking concerned, "Lily, we've been called to St. Mungo's. Dumbledore wouldn't say why, but he did say it was imperative we go immediately."

"Mungo's?" Remus looked up sharply at that, "What for I wonder?"

James shook his head, "I have no idea. We're all here, we're all safe..."

Lily got to her feet, "If Dumbledore says we're needed, then we need to go."

"Should we leave?" Remus asked quietly.

"No, stay." James smiled, "We'll be back soon, and maybe by that time Sirius will be awake, and we can tell him the story."

Remus nodded, "All right, see you soon."

----------------->"What is this then?" James held out his hand as he approached Snape. They shook hands shortly before Lily pushed past them both and pulled Snape into a friendly hug.

Snape shook his head as he pulled back from Lily, "I'll let Dumbledore explain. Come inside, quickly."

Lily took James hand as they walked into the room where Dumbledore was waiting. He looked up with a smile as they entered, "Lily, James, I'm delighted to see you."

Lily hurried forward to give Dumbledore a quick hug before she returned to James' side. Handshakes were exchanged before Dumbledore gestured to the chairs, "Have a seat, please, you'll probably want to be seated."

Snape was the door, casting spells to secure the room. James glanced back at him, brow furrowing. This was all very... much. It left him with a distinctly bad feeling. There was an awkward moment of silence, "Have you heard of dimensional magic?" Dumbledore asked, pulling out a packet of Bernie Bott's Beans and taking popping a few into his mouth. He held out his hand, "Bean?"

"No, thank you. Dimensional magic?" Lily looked at James.

"I remember... something about it in school, but just in passing."

"You see, there is a theory that states there are several alternate dimensions, and realities, and the one we live in now is one of a million."

"Dimensions? Realities?" James blinked, "Sounds like a child's tale."

"Very much so, which is why all research into dimensional magic was abandoned years ago." Dumbledore nodded, "After all, the idea of alternate dimensions, and realities is ridiculous isn't it?"

"So... what does that have to do with why we're here?" Lily asked warily.

"Well, you see, alternate realities are real. In these realities there are doubles of ourselves living lives sometimes similar to our own, and often times contrary to our own. They look like us, sound like us, most of the time are the same age as us, but they are different from ourselves in experiences and personality." Dumbledore spoke calmly, putting the Bean's away and lighting up his pipe.

Snape stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes kept darting to the curtained area behind them.

"Alternate realities are real?" James repeated.

"And dimensional magic allows one to travel between these realities?" Lily shook her head, "So... what does..."

Dumbledore stood and moved to the curtained area. He grasped the curtain, "Prepare yourselves for a shock," he said before he pulled the curtain back to reveal the bed behind the curtain and also the boy laying on the bed. Harry Potter... or rather, Harry Potter's double... from an alternate reality.

Lily gasped, hands flying to her mouth. James stood, taking a step forward, "Harry," he breathed.

"Yes. Harry Potter, you'll notice that he is far younger than your Harry was at the time of his death, but also the black marks covering his body. Severus has done a thorough examination, this boy is your Harry... however, he is your Harry transported through another reality to this one. So he is yours, and yet not yours."

James shook his head, "No... No, this doesn't make sense,"

"Magic rarely makes sense, Potter," Severus muttered, "but I assure you it is true. This boy does not bear the Mark of Voldemort, nor is his lood tainted by the disease he suffered in his youth."

James let go of Lily's hand and he moved to the bed. He reached out with shaking fingers and touched the boy's cheek. "He's cold... and thin. What's wrong with him?"

"Mal-nourishment, he shows symptoms of having been tortured, although I cannot tell which spell, I can simply see the traces of magic still in his system. He is not in the best shape, near death really, but in a few days, and with proper treatment, he'll be fine." Snape explained.

"Are you sure? This isn't just a trick?" James asked quietly, looking back at Snape.

Snape nodded, "There is no doubt in my mind that he has been touched by dimensional magic, nor is there any doubt that he is not your son. Biologically he is still yours, but he is not the child you yourself raised."

James looked to Dumbledore, then down at the boy. Lily got to her feet with difficulty and stumbled to James' side. She looked down at the boy, tears in her eyes, "Albus?"

"It's true, everything Severus says is true, and I've brought you here because while he is not the son you raised, he is still your son and ultimately the decision of what happens to him lays in your hands."

----------------->"I need to speak to Ronald Weasley, is he in his office?" Fetcher would have gone right up on his own, except the hallway was blocked by a troupe of protestors who were angry about the new law being passed that made werewolves true wizarding citizens.

"He is in his office, sir, but entry is restricted to floo only." The receptionist glanced up, "Ah, Seamus." she smiled, "here, use the fireplace behind me."

"Thank you," Fetcher didn't know her name at all so he didn't bother trying. He stepped around her, throwing floor powder into the fire, "Weasley's Office." He stepped into the fireplace.

A few dizzying moments later and he burst forth into Weasley's office. He landed on his knees but quickly stood up and brushed himself off. Ron was at his desk and he looked up in surprise, "Ah, Seamus!" He grinned and got to his feet, moving around the desk to walk over and shake Fetcher's hand, "What brings you here? Business?"

"No, how safe is it in here?"

"How do you mean?"

"Is there any chance at all of being overheard?"

"None at all," Ron assured him sincerely.

"This afternoon, my scouting party and I found a body... I don't know exactly what's going on, but ... the boy we found. He looked like Harry Potter."

Ron stared, "He's alive?"

Fetcher nodded, "Yeah. He's alive."

All the color drained from Ron's face as he collapsed into a chair, "Alive," he breathed, surprised and yes... scared, "Does Draco know?"

"I haven't told him, and I don't want to be the one to tell him." Fetcher said earnestly, "I shouldn't have told you either, but I felt you had a right to know. You especially... considering..."

Ron patted Fetcher's shoulder, "You did the right thing telling me. Are you sure it was him?"

"Well... mostly. It was strange, he looked... about 16 years old, but it was definitely him. He had the scar and everything."

"Sixteen? Horcruxes?"

"No. I don't know. Could be."

Ron ran his fingers through his hair, "This definitely isn't a good thing. Definitely not. All right, all right... there's no point doing anything now. Listen, don't tell anyone you've told me."

"What about Draco?"

"I'm not going to be the one to tell him, do you want to?"

Fetcher shook his head quickly, "Are you kidding?"

Ron smiled a little, "Who's been called in on this one?"

"Dumbledore's taken over."

"Right, he can handle it. IN the meantime we lay low and let Dumbledore make the choices..."

"And Draco?"

"... he's not going to take this well. All we can do is wait and see what Dumbledore decides. It was right of you to tell me, Fetcher." Another should pat, "Go on. Get out of here, and if anyone asks I called you here on Muggle relations business."

Fetcher nodded, "All right. Shit... you know what this could mean?"

"I do. Let's hope it doesn't get to that."

Fetcher hesitated then turned and headed back to the fireplace, "What should I do?"

"Go home. Have a drink, forget you saw anything."

Fetcher nodded uneasily, "All right. Okay."

When Fetcher was gone, Ron leaned on his desk, lowering his head and gripping the sides of the desk so tightly his knuckles faded to white. "The rise of a new Voldemort...?" he whispered.

----------------->