Chapter 4
Storming out in a huff, James was yelling at the world for it’s injustice and cruelty. He had only been trying to help. Lily following close behind, tailed her eldest brother in tears, asking question after question if he’d been alright and was going to tell of their father or not. Albus, who all but helped nothing for the situation, came out minutes later. Holding tightly to the side of his arm, he looked anywhere but his own brother.
“Now do you see what your instincts lead us to? There is no escape from dad’s wrath now, and we lost ourselves the map!” With nothing but hatred for his brother, he accusingly aims his finger at him, as if all the anger within him was contained into nothing but his right hand. “Not only that, but I have no doubt that headmaster will not take us seriously! Did you see him?! He was furious! I won’t even be surprised if he comes sauntering on out here to give as good wringing! Gah! Why do I even listen to anything you say?!”
It was Albus who had originally felt something was amiss. The two of them had merely been at the library with a free period, studying as usual. Only then had Albus begun to feel a sudden chill of dread and flares of pain wash over him. He had immediately gone to poke and prod at James, who knew of his young brother’s odd connection to their father - as broken as it was.
With the help of their map, which had been updated courtesy of their father, the detection and tracking properties had also extended to the boundaries of Hogsmeade. Students of Hogwarts, old and new, could be seen wandering it’s streets at all and any hours of the day. It was quite helpful, both as breakers of school laws and keepers of the peace. All three siblings made a pact; to never snitch on students if ever in the possession of the map if either of them becomes a prefect or head boy or girl. Luckily, neither had happened, and so they continued their little mayhem.
The two brothers had opened the map, and to their surprise, caught two names surrounding the remains of the Shrieking Shack, along with a legion of smaller names surrounding them.
Harry Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Harry was not one to be afraid of a dead man, and hence, his children were raised as such. When asked, he had gone into great detail behind the story of Harry Potter and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. The fallen lord’s name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, after his muggle father and wizard grandfather. It had been drilled through their heads so thoroughly and early in life, there was no doubt the brothers knew exactly who their father was stuck or trapped with. They were quick to run for the village, and had managed to grab their sister along the way and fill her in on what was going on. They could only hope they were not too late.
“James. Sirius. POTTER!”
And they were.
The anger fuming off of the man was released in threatening, pulsating waves. His robes flowing with the aura of the magic encasing him, and eyes blazing a hellish green as if the depths themselves were begging for release.
“I thought I raised you- raised you all to be better. What was that I just saw in that room?! Did I see wizards, or squealing pigs?!” Anger still lingered, but it was only tears that left his eyes. “And James? You will listen to Albus because he is your brother.”
“Storming the school was his idea! You can’t-”
“He was the one keeping you from cursing a professor! Whether it is his fault for riling you up, you were the one to point your wand! Albus at least had the sense to hold you back! And Lily! I thought we were getting there! Do not try and hide behind him!” The anger was fierce, riddling fear into his children’s hearts.
“That man is not who he says he is!” Albus urged his father, “He’s under polyjuice, or some sort of glamour! Whoever you think that guy is, don’t believe him! He’s-”
A cold wash flows through the young Slytherin, clutching at his heart.
“What..” he stammers, “his name is- his real identity is-”
Albus hits the ground hard, hands clawing at his chest. Harry and James’ fury with one another had all but disappeared, shock and fear swirling through their eyes at the middle of the family. Lily, who was equally terrified, had run over in protection of her brother.
“Albus!”
From the rise of the office window, Tom observed.
He was right in cursing his name once more, and the thoughts that had gone with it. A smile he could not help but ignore rested grimly on his face, the effects of his curse working through the boy’s system. He watched as James tried the same, pleading with his father of his identity before choking on nothing. Lily was smart, not saying a word as she watched her brothers gasp for air.
“What is going on,” Harry stressed, looking at his daughter, “who is Aurelio Tom?!”
“Dad,” Lily cries out, “I can’t tell you. I’ll turn- I’ll probably turn into James and Albus.”
It seemed that he had modifications to make. Glancing to the clock by his desk, he hummed. He was sure to have enough time to alter a few thoughts and memories. Things were beginning to get out of hand from the Potters alone. He may have to avoid them for some time if he wished to remain.
Observing the chaos alone, he had grown to realize the mere fraction of consequences he would endure at the hands of his continued meddling with the Potters’ lives. From obliviating Harry Potter, to the insane complexity and trust with his children. Wiping their memories would hold no true challenge; but what of after?
A clean slate would be ideal.
A third chance with Harry would be the best course, but no more redos else he would begin to chip away at his mind with the sheer amount of memory alterations he had already done.
His children were young, and a deep memory wipe and would not be as disastrous. He would need to at least learn how they learned of his identity, and change the answer. He refused to remove their memory of Voldemort and Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior. They were Potters. Removing something such as that would most likely lead to a rattled mind and soul worthy of containment at Azkaban.
Maybe, if ever worthy, he would restore their memories. Only time would tell.
Raising his wand high, eyes gleaming red behind the silver, he grins maniacally and casts his spell. The wisps of his wand growing bright at the intent behind his spell, grown to genocidal numbers as he aims his wand at merely four people.
§Obliviate maxima!§