The Grandfather-Who-Mourned
Albus Dumbledore truly felt his age, this evening. He had lived through two wars, and two Dark Lords. Though, he suspected the second wasn't as dead as anyone quite believed. However, this wasn't really why he felt old. No, this was due to all the lives lost. Those who should have outgrown him, lived past him. Specifically due to the Potters.
He had watched them grow up. Walk the halls of his school. Play pranks and become people he was proud to call his former students. He was overjoyed when James Potter forced himself into young Remus Lupin's life and helped him during those awful evenings. He was proud to watch as James went from an immature child to a brave man. He was thrilled when Lily Evans fought against Pureblood propaganda and stood up for the weak and weary. Proud that she didn't let Voldemort cow her strength. And yet, it seemed to be all for naught.
Yes, the war was over. Yes, people could rest easy, but the truth was, while everyone celebrated the fall of the Voldemort, and how a meer baby defeated him, they forget that said baby will grow up never knowing his parents. Gods above, Albus was appalled about the lack of logic they possessed. How exactly could a baby defeat the worst Dark Lord in a century? For Albus knew he was.
Grindelwald had lines he wouldn't cross. He knew that magic blood was magic blood, no matter if you were muggleborn or pureblood. Voldemort didn't care for that. He wanted power for powers sake. A monster disguised in morals, if you could call them that. He had the 'purebloods' wrapped around his finger. Fools, the lot of them.
However, Albus couldn't blame the populace at large. Not really. The monster of a man had charisma and attractiveness. He remembered the boy he was when Albus was just a transfiguration teacher, when he gave Tom Riddle his letter and told him of the Wizarding World. How he...collected people. Truthfully, had he not had a list from Brunner, he would have thought-
"Dumbledore! Open this bloody door! I've been out here for twenty minutes!" Albus blinked, before realising that yes, someone had indeed been standing there for a little while. And that voice. Albus thought they'd died nearly two years ago now. So with a wave of his hand, the door began to creak open, before being forcefully opened by an angry Fleamont Potter.
"Fleamont, what are you doing here? How are you alive? The dragon pox, I thought..." He couldn't finish. He'd heard about Euphemia's death, but now that he thought about it, no one actually said anything about Fleamont. Strange, he could've sworn...
"Why am I here? My grandson! What else what I be here for?! A tea party?! My son and his wife were murdered not twelve hours ago. Murdered! But I haven't got time to grieve right now, not when he needs me." His voice cracked and tears formed in his eyes, but never fell. He refused to allow it. He'd lost too much. He wanted to give up, to pass on and meet his family, but he knew he couldn't. Not yet. He was still young, for a wizard at least, and had so much to do. "Add onto that, why am I hearing about some silly name for him? Boy-who-lived? Bah! The disrespect!"
"He's in the Hospital Wing, with Poppy. He got a cut on his head. She's seeing if anything can be done, but I doubt it. Where it came from, what he survived. It's unheard of. Fleamont, there is a reason he's being called the boy-who-lived, daft as the name is. He survived the killing curse." Dumbledore still couldn't believe it. He knew the stories of the Potters, and the rumours, but this? This was to farfetched. The only way he could even think of it was if Death himself hadn't allowed it.
"I'm not surprised. I had a talk with my son nearly two years ago now. Told him of our family. Our history. Told him about them. I doubt it's a coincidence that not even a month later, Lily announced her pregnancy, and before you say it, he is James'. Too much resemblance to myself and James for it not to be the case. However, I suspect a bit of. forgive me, magic was used." Fleamont couldn't help the small grin that graced his face, before it faded. "Regardless, Harry. I've come to take him. I will raise him. Don't even dare think to stop me!"
Dumbledore was honestly a bit insulted. He would never dare! Okay, yes, he may have thought for a second that he'd have to send Harry to Lily's sister for a little bit, to keep Lily's blood protection alive, but now knowing that Fleamont lived? No, he couldn't do that. Not with this new news. That would be like sending the boy to his death. Though, it made sense. A prophecy made for him. Albus wondering if, perhaps, the Longbottom boy... No, he doubts it. The chances were unlikely. A Great Prophecy though. Two in so little time. The other one not even fulfilled yet.
"No, Fleamont. I won't stop you. I just ask you allow me to leave a parting gift. And perhaps, lay a protection ward, one from an old friend. Perhaps you know him, Nicolas Flamel? He gave it to Hogwarts some four hundred years ago. For a certain crowd, if you will." Albus rose to his feet before going to his bookcase, and using a trick he learnt from a muggle tale, pulled a book, causing the shelf to open wide, revealing his own personal library, where he kept the dangerous or obscure books. This included the one he needed.
It was a book that dated back to Romans. When they invaded and brought over their wand ideas and latin based spells. They heavily influenced the wizarding world at large now. However, a certain group used their own spells, influence by certain powers. This book, was part of this. However, there was only one spell, or rather ward, that he needed from it.
He handed the book to Fleamont, with a stern look on his face, and with words of caution.
"Do not let anyone else see this book. In the wrong hands it cause cause catastrophic events. We just ended a war with one Dark Wizard. We don't need another." Fleamont just nodded, and slid the book into a satchel he had attached to his back. "Now, you'll find the ward you need on page 333. It will defend you, or at least help with whatever other wards you yourself will place on your home. Where is it you will be staying, by the way? If needs be, I can help you find somewhere, it's the least I can do."
Fleamont gave the old headmaster a grin pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, before placing it under the bowl of Sherbet Lemons on Dumbledore's desk. Nothing else was said as he turned and left the office, eager to find his Grandson. It was time to take him home.
Fleamont looked around at his home, Harry in his arms, now fast asleep. The boy had slept through their travels and was giving of a slight snore. Gods, he was nothing like James. His son was a loud baby, even when asleep. While Harry's snore was quiet and adorable, James was like an old man in that it was loud and could easily be confused for Fleamont himself. Euphemia, bless her heart, had to put three silencing charms over the two of them.
A sad smile graced Fleamonts face. He missed his wife, but enough time had passed that he could think back at the happy moments without breaking down in sobs. Sad, of course, he would never find another lady like his late wife, no one could replace her. She'd love Harry. Blasted Dragon pox. That would be something Fleamont would do his best to work on.
However, that would have to wait.
"Jester." Fleamont whispered. With a quiet 'POP', a small figure appeared. It had long pointed ears that dropped slightly at the edges. His eyes were a large blue and looked at the baby in wonder. Finally, he wore a deep blue tunic, small black trousers and sandals. On the tunic was the Potter Coat of arms. A horse like creature with black leathery wings, which were spread, sat facing forwards with a two bulbous wands behind it and a black stone in its mouth. Finally, it was encased in a triangle. "Hello old friend. Have you prepared the nursery as asked?" While Fleamont didn't doubt his elf, he needed reassurance.
The elf nodded, but kept looking at the baby, then looked to the window, where a purple and black butterfly rested, unmoving. It stayed there, almost watching, waiting. Fleamont sighed. That had nearly all but confirmed it, however, only one thing could truly make it so, and the sixty year old man doubted that would happen anytime soon.
For now, Fleamont pushed the thought aside and strode to the nursery. He'd had Jester redesign it from when James used it. No longer was it the blazing red. Now it was a deep purple with little stars on the ceiling. Gone was the gold, now it was replaced with silver. Jester had outdone himself. Fleamont gave no instruction to the elf in what he wanted, but it seemed that the elf knew. Perhaps he could tell. They had a way with magic that mortals could never understand.
He placed Harry in the crib, placed just in the corner of the room, and examined the rest of it. There was the obvious baby changing station and drawers for clothes. Toy boxes and a little rug. The room wasn't large, it didn't need to be. When Harry was older, he could design his own room, for now, this would do.
Fleamont left the room, after placing a baby monitoring charm, to deal with business. Most importantly, protections. The home already had some wards on it, but at the minute, they were in shambles. The house hadn't been used in over a decade. The Potter's had moved from here to the Potter Manor to raised James properly, and closer to a town where he could make some friends, before going off to Hogwarts. This home while not small, was nothing compared to Potter Manor. It was three stories, with the nursery being on the second floor, and the master bedroom being on the top. Technically speaking, this was a vacation home, of sorts, being located in Glastonbury Tor, a spiritual place where the Potter's could get away.
Things wouldn't find them here, it offered protection from those who would seek his Grandson, and provided aid from the Other. Despite the Christian's claiming so, it was not Hell. It was quite a lovely place, one that Fleamont had visited once with his brother, Charlus, when they were little. Charlus had decided to return there with his wife, Dorea, near fifteen years ago, and hadn't since returned. Fleamont knew not the fate of his brother, for the Other had a different time zone from his own. Perhaps, when Harry was older, they could go and see.
Regardless, protections. Fleamont fished the book from his satchel and made his way to the Head of House study. He was curious about what else was in the book, but for now stuck to what he had been told, and turned to the required page. The ward inside was simple enough to do, but what it required? Not so much. After all, how does one gain the blood of a unicorn without cursing himself? How about mist from a cave deep within a mountain. It wouldn't be easy, but Fleamont was determined. If this ward would protect Harry, then so be it.
He was retired from being a Potions Maker, and had more then enough money for several lifetimes, and that's without the revenue from Sleekeazy's. He could have made the Potter family rich with that alone! Perhaps Harry would follow in his footsteps. Hopefully, not like James. He loved his son, more then anything, but he was spoilt, through his and Euphemia's own fault, and that made him arrogant and not really try his hardest. He had the skill, being that he was able to brew the Animagus potion at 14! Yes, he knew, after all, one doesn't just forget their son walking around with antlers. James claimed a prank gone wrong, but seeing Sirius with a tail...
SIRIUS! Gods, in all the rush he had forgotten! Forgotten was the book. Fleamont had a more pressing matter. Only few people knew of it, but Sirius was not the secret keeper. Albus had said nothing, probably assuming Sirius was guilty, but Fleamont couldn't allow that. He'd have to find that boy before he did something reckless.
"Jester!" The elf once more appeared, this time with a louder crack. "Keep the house safe, watch Harry. I need to find that blasted boy, Sirius. Don't let anyone in unless they can prove who they are, and only close friends. Should someone try to break in, take Harry to the manor and wait for me there." Fleamont didn't let the elf get another word in before striding outside the wards and disappearing.
Sirius Black was distraught. His best friend, his brother in all but blood, was gone. James was gone. Lily was gone. Sobs wracked his body, as he drunk himself into a stupor. It was his fault, he suggested the switch, the ultimate prank. Well, jokes on him, Peter got the last laugh huh. Not him!
Peter. The traitor. The rat! Maybe he couldn't bring James and Lily back, but he could at least avenge them! A rat would die tonight! No matter what he had to do to achieve it.
He got to his feet, the bottle of booze forgotten. He grabbed his wand and his coat, throwing the door to his flat open, ready to race out, only to walk straight into someone and tumble back. He landed on his ass, and groaned.
"Look at you, you pathetic sod. Get up!" Sirius recognised that voice. How could he not. His face snapped up and saw the angry face of Fleamont Potter looking down at him. "What's with that face? Not expecting an old man to come calling? Or maybe it's because you forgot I existed and think I'm a halluction? Either way, I'm here, so get your sorry arse up and come with me."
Sirius honestly did think it was the booze talking. However, the fact he was on the floor dissuaded that point. Unless he walked into the door. He'd done that one to many times as Padfoot. God, he hopes he hadn't done so again, but in human form this time. James would - right. Yeah.
"Oh for heavens sake, get up boy!" Fleamont grabbed Sirius by the scruff of his coat and hoisted him up as if he weighed nothing. "Would you sober up already. You're depressed, believe me, I understand, probably more then you right now, but you don't see me with a bottle in hand and drinking away my sorrows. You know why? Because there is a baby back home that needs me. That needs you! So, I will say it again, sober up and come with me."
Sirius blanched, and willed his head to clear. A trait of the Blacks. Easy sober up without any consequences. Minus the Black Madness, but that was irrelevant. How could he forget. Harry. He had handed him to Hagrid.
"Dumbledore has him. Hagrid took my bike." Yeah, he could be helpful! He knew where Harry was!
"Boy did you not listen? I just said he was back home!" Ah. Right. Perhaps he hadn't fully sobered up yet. Grief and all messed with the head. "Now, before we leave, I want you to explain to me, where it was you were going, because you were surprised to see me." Sirius looked away guiltily, before mumbling about how he was going rat hunting. When Fleamont demanded a further explanation, he filled him in on his 'plan.' "So, you are telling me, that in a drunken rage, you were going to hunt down my sons betrayed, likely making yourself look even more guilty and trying to finish of any witnesses? How dumb can you be!"
Sirius couldn't help but flinch away. He had really messed up. First with letting Hagrid take Harry, when he himself could have gone to Fleamont, and now with this. He was a mess.
"Fine, that fine. Alright, I guess we are making a pit stop on the way." Fleamont turned, still holding Sirius by the scruff and dragged him along.
"Uh, where are we going?" Fleamont looked down at the twenty-one year old with an eyebrow raised and gave him a face that said, 'Is it not obvious?' Honestly, Sirius wasn't really sure, and he felt saying what he though would likely get him thrown down the stairs. For some reason, he doubted they'd be hunting rats today.
As it turned out, Sirius was correct. Yippee! However, they were at the Ministry talking to Mad-Eye, who kept, ironically, giving Sirius the stink eye. Fleamont however knocked the Auror up the head, something anyone would be terrified to do. Apparently, Fleamont Potter had lost all semblance of sanity. Mad-Eye too it seems, as the Senior Auror, slayer of Death Eaters, arresting over fifty and being the one that Death Eaters had nightmares about, looked sheepish and apologised.
"We are here to clear this fool of a boy's name. He had nothing to do with my son or his wife's death. Would you kindly fetch Crouch and tell him to come here, or do I have to force my way in, because believe me, I've had just about enough today." Mad-Eye, being the smart man he is, chose his battles. If Fleamont Potter wanted to see Crouch, then see Crouch he would.
The newly amputated Auror brought them to the Head Office, where an overworked secretary sat. They looked like they could fall asleep at any moment. However, as soon as they saw Fleamont and Sirius, their back straightened up and became far more attentive. Sirius Black was on their watchlist, and it seemed like Fleamont himself had brought him in. The secretary immediately passed the message along to Crouch. He'd want to see this.
Within seconds, the grouchy Crouch was out of his office. He saw the two men and his eye lit up.
"Lord Potter! You appear to have done us a favour! You've caught your own sons traitor for us!" It was known that Crouch hated the Blacks, seemingly for no reason, always assuming the worst. This looked like it was no difference. Fleamont however, wouldn't have that, and immediately smacked it down.
"Not on your life! Sirius Black is innocent. He didn't betray the Potters, for he was never the Secret Keeper! Peter Pettigrew was. Gods knows where the rat is now, but I demand that Sirius' name be cleared. The amount of death stares he got is unacceptable! Have you been spreading lies Crouch?" Whatever joy Crouch displayed was gone. "If you have to, drug him with Veritaserum and be done with it!"
Crouch looked ready to blow a gasket.
"No! Everyone knows he was the Secret Keeper for the Potters! Who else would it be? Of course, they chose poorly, having been killed-" Crouch stopped, realising who he was speaking to, before turning an embarrassed red. It probably didn't help that Fleamont had his wand pointed at the mans head.
"Choose your next words very carefully. I have not rested since I heard the news of my son and daughter-in-laws death's. I haven't had time to grieve, and here you are, accusing an innocent man. I expect you to go through proper procedure and actually question Sirius or else I will drag you through the Wizengamot for corruption and defamation. Moody!" The Auror snapped to attention. "Make sure Sirius gets a properly questioning later. For now, we are going home. If you need us, you can send an owl!"
The two strode away, with Sirius looking at Fleamont with awe in his eyes and a gaping mouth. Not even his own parents had stood up for him like that.
"We have work to do."
.
.
.
.
"Be well, little one. You have a long road ahead of you. Fret not though, your father stays by your side."