An unexpected meeting
An unexpected meeting
Harry's breath came in little gasps as he ran around a corner, dodging out of the sight of his pursuers.
His mouth tried to gulp down as much air as possible, his thin legs catapulting him ever forwards, but it was not enough.
He could hear the thunder of his cousin's feet on the street, the loud breath of his thugs that he called friends.
Harry hunting has never been a favourite of Harry's. Obviously.
He tried to shake them off by taking a turn in the wrong direction, not heading home – to his aunt and uncle's house. He jumped over a low wall, but underestimated the drop.
He closed his eyes and braced himself, anticipating the pain, hoping that he would be capable of keeping his mouth shut, making his fall as silent as possible.
If only he could fall into a hole. A dirty hole, where his cousin would never want to go. Just like his cupboard.
He felt himself being squeezed and distantly wondered, eyes still closed, if he truly fell into a hole. A construction well, maybe. His chest hurt, his lungs burning and then – nothing.
Gellert sat with his legs crossed in his cell. His magic coursing through his body, calling up a vision. He had done it for years, sustaining his sanity through any information he was able to acquire.
How the world had fallen. Muggles were still raving around while wizards hid like vermin. It should be the other way around. And all this time Albus did nothing. Pushing paper at most.
Admittedly, he had a lot on his plate with that British youngster that fashioned himself a Dark Lord. A rather pathetic being in his opinion. Destroying himself like that. If only Albus could see the extent of his brutalities. He should gather his forces and attack while the rat was at its weakest.
His magic burned in his veins, pricked behind his eyes and then he lost focus of the wall at which he was staring.
A boy with bright red hair in a garden. The house that came with the lawn was upheld by magic alone. He crouched down and picked something up. His lips moved, but he could not hear a sound.
Albus sitting at what had to be the desk in his office, writing a letter. Dressed in garish colours.
A boy with smooth dark curls in a grand dark room, one hand outstretched over a puddle of water, towards a statue. “Speak to me Slytherin...”
“Who wouldn't be delighted to bask in the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived?”, a snide comment, the voice cutting the room that had yet to come into focus. The dark man sneered at a Scottish woman with her hair in such a strict braid he was wondering how they were still attached to her head.
“Surely you would? After everything he's done for the world.”, she looked at him appalled and with a hint of disappointment.
“Of course you would say that. You will spoil him even more than his relatives!”, he said, his voice getting louder, “His arrogance will know no bounds!”
“You haven't even seen him yet!”, she countered, barring her teeth.
“I don't have to!”, he shouted, his fingers moving as if to go for his wand.
“Severus, Minerva.”, said an exasperated old man.”Why don't we wait to argue until the problem has shown?”
An amused smile lifted Albus' corners of his mouth and lit up his eyes.
The irritated huff of either Minerva or Severus was the last thing he could make out.
It was stormy, lightning charged the air and for a moment he was wondering if he dreamt of his escape from MACUSA far back in time. A figure on a broom swooped past him, his cloak billowing in the harsh wind. But it was too small for an auror and he held no wand in his hand. Instead he wore protective gear. Quidditch. Then suddenly dementors swarmed the field and everything went from dark to black.
The last thing he could make out was a figure falling from a great height. Its broom nowhere in sight.
A girl with bushy hair looking at him with great innocent eyes full of wonder and excitement.
He took a deep breath and surfaced from his trance. The sun was already past its zenith, he should stretch some and drink a bit of water from the small well that refilled itself.
He would have to meditate over these visions again to catch any details that he might not have caught consciously.
But he was lucky today. These visions hadn't happened yet. Usually he was doomed to relive parts of the past, things he could not change anyway. Nevertheless the information he obtained that way could prove useful to piece together the picture that was painted by time.
He sat by his well in the corner and drank some water with his hands, washing the sweat off them in the process.
Albus would still be at Hogwarts, doing nothing. He should be mad at that, but after all these years his emotions seemed to have cooled so far that he sometimes asked himself if you could loose them altogether by not using them for a long time.
He was ripped out of his musings by a loud crack that resonated in his empty cell, the sound bouncing off the bare walls around the small room. A wave of magic accompanied the noise.
And a small boy with black hair that was standing in all directions.
He was carrying a dirty old bag and his clothes seemed to be four sizes too big for him. His belt was wrapped around his waist twice, his baggy shirt stuffed in the waistband.
He slowly rose under Gellert's analytical gaze.
“Huh.”, he said.
Gellert rose an eyebrow. Inside, excitement grew, his magic eagerly jumping to his fingertips.
“Hallo. Was machst du hier?”, he asked politely.
“Uh. Sorry, S-Sir.”, he stammered and hunched over.
“What are you doing here?”, he lowered his shoulders and his chin to seem less threatening and mirror his posture to some extent.
“I was running.”, he murmured.
“Home from school, I assume?”, he coaxed gently.
“Yes, Sir. I think I got lost though.”
“It certainly seems that way.”, he smiled mildly at the shy boy. “Where do you live?”
“Privet Drive, Sir.”
Gellert looked at him expectantly.
“Number four.”
After it became apparent that he would not say anything else, he asked: “And the city?”
“Little Whinging, Surrey.”
Gellert hummed.
A memory surged forward behind his eyes.
A letter, made of parchment. Inscribed with green ink.
Harry Potter
The Cupboard Under The Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging – Surrey
Sealed with red wax, the Hogwarts coat of arms imprinted.
“You were running.”, he remarked.
The boy merely nodded.
“Why?”, his voice was soft as he knelt on the cold stones only a few feet away from the small child. An uneasy feeling was creeping up on him.
The boy gulped and looked up, searching his face for something.
“It was a game.”, he said slowly.
“Did you like it?”, he asked sadly.
“No.”, his voice was empty of all emotion.
Of course he didn't. He wouldn't have apparated across the whole continent if he did!
“What is your name?”, asked Gellert even though he had a good idea just who was somehow in his cell.
“Harry.”, he hesitated. “Harry Potter.”
“It's alright Harry, you're safe here.”, he said.
The boy sniffed, now that the rush of adrenalin was receding, his limbs started shaking.
“They can't get to you here.”, he assured him, guessing and counting on the accuracy of his visions. “They can't hurt you with me.”
The dam burst and Harry broke down, tears streaming down his face, confirming his suspicions.
“Hush, it's alright.”, he said and gathered him slowly in his arms.
After stiffening for a moment, the boy grabbed his dirty shirt and held on as if his life depended on it.
He cursed Albus and his inaction. He had been right. Muggles could not be trusted with magical children. They only showed violence in the face of an unknown power.
Gellert slowly stroked Harry's back and soothed him to a state of at least semi-coherence.
When he had stopped sniffling and had gone limp in his arms, he asked: “Did your family hurt you?”
He nodded. “My cousin and his friends play Harry Hunting. They hit me when they get me.”
“Is that why you ran?”
“I didn't want them to catch me. It hurts so bad. And I can't do my chores if they break something.”
Gellert blinked. “Your chores?”
“My aunt and uncle give me chores. I have to earn my keep because I'm a good for nothing freak.”
He tried to draw away slowly, but Gellert held him tightly, his magic running through him wildly, promising violence, begging to be used to hurt, to kill. To enforce justice.
But the only thing he could kill was the shaking boy on his lap. His temper cooled slightly.
“No, you are not.”
His words were quiet, but strong.
“I'm only trouble.”, he tried to justify the crimes of such vermin, it made his blood boil again.
“No, you are a blessed child.”
As Harry looked at him with confused eyes, he elaborated.
“You are blessed with the gift of magic.”
But before he could say anything further, the boy almost managed to throw himself out of his arms, violently shaking, his breathing rising together with his magic, dangerously close to his skin.
“There is no magic!”
The fear in his eyes had him curse Albus again.
“Who said that?”, it took all his power to keep his voice calm and soft.
“My uncle. There is no such thing as magic. And I'm not allowed to say it.”
He furrowed his brows.”Magic?”
The boy confirmed it, shaking his head wildly, eyes wide with fear.
“It is just a word.”
“I mustn't say it.”, he was pleading desperately now.
“Nothing happens if you do.”, he was still confused. Were the muggles that stupid?
“I get the belt if I do.”
That explained it. And it made him furious. He should have done more, he should not have hesitated.
“Not here.”, he said, still holding on to the boy. “And they are wrong.”
“'s not true.”
Gellert contemplated how to proceed best. If these monsters had gone too far, the boy would be lost. If he accidentally triggered him, he would destroy his fortress. And his prison. And the boy could kill him in the process.
“I could show you.”, he offered lightly.
Harry was curious, his eyes narrowed and his hands had stopped shaking. Magic still tense, right there, ready to move, to strike, and he gave a small nod.
Gellert lifted an arm, slowly as to not scare him and closed his hand. He focused a small trickle of his magic into the palm and when he opened his hand, a ball of light was hovering right above it.
He regarded the boy in his lap with care, but he was not scared or put out. In fact, he was staring at his hand as if it was the holy grail and the philosophers stone all at once. Amazement plainly visible on his young face.
“Would you like me to teach you?”, he suggested, his eyes still on the mood of his charge.
“You would?”, he exclaimed.
“Of course, see here...”
An hour later, the boy could produce light with his bare hands, let his book bag levitate and ignite small flames on the tips of his fingers.
Harry silently revered in the magic – it was magic! - he was doing, when Gellert gently interrupted him.
“If the muggles try to hurt you again, you can burn them.”
“They won't like that.”
“You are far stronger than them.”
Harry shook his head. “Not always.”
“You will be.”, he said with conviction. “And until then you will scare them into behaving, won't you?”
Harry smiled slightly, but then a thought crossed his mind and his face fell.
“I have to go back, don't I?”
“Unfortunately so.”
It would not do for Albus to discover that anyone had overcome the wards that he had so carefully cast to keep him away from the rest of the world.
“Can I come back?”, he asked hopefully. “Like a vacation?”
His face softened. “Of course.”
“How will I do that? Will you teach me?”, he asked eagerly.
“Not yet, no.”
His face fell at that.
“Are you wearing that belt often?”
Harry drew back confusedly. “Yes.”, he said slowly.
“Could you give it to me for a moment?”, Gellert demanded.
Harry complied and undid his belt.
Gellert received it and hesitated. He would be enchanting a muggle belt. A belt that was almost falling apart and still given to their nephew to wear. It would help to protect him from them. These muggles were worse than anything wizards had to say about him. Magical children were sacred! What had the world come to?
He sighed. It would not do to lament about his failures.
He focused on the task at hand and slowly wove his magic into the worn leather.
“Give me your hand, please.”, he asked and held his own out.
Curious, the boy went along with him an laid his small hand into his own, lightly gasping as he felt the flow of magic.
He pulled Harry's magic out, along with his own and created a pattern that would act as a portkey to his cell. A thought crossed his mind and he braided another strand of their combined magic into the belt. A protection for the boy. Not strong enough to last against a wizard, but a muggle would have to work to lay a hand on him again in a violent manner.
“Here.”, he handed it back to him after he was satisfied that the magic would hold and the main magical trace would be the boy's. It would not do at all for Albus to notice his magic anywhere but in this cell.
This could very well be his second chance. His redemption.
“Come anytime you need me.”, he said. “But be careful no one sees you leave.”
The boy seemed to understand.
“It's best no one realizes you leave.”
He nodded again.
“Good.”, he said, stroking his back. “I will send you back now.”
Harry looked downtrodden.
“Come now, there's no need to make such a face.”
“I don't want to.”, he whispered. ”How will I come back?”
“Always remember that you are stronger. You have magic.”, Gellert continued to explain how to activate the portkey and made sure his charge understood.
“Thank you.”
The boy threw his arms around him and Gellert used this to mingle their magics again and reverse the apparation the boy had unconsciously performed. He let go of his hold over their power and he disappeared from his cell.
Nothing hinted to anything being wrong in his prison. No trace of the boy was left. Gellert smiled to himself.
This would be his chance to set things to rights.