The Greater Good
-October 17 1991-
Everything was steadily falling apart. Albus didn’t know how it had gotten so bad, so quickly. When the war with Voldemort had first started, Albus was confident in his ability to stop it. Despite their heavy losses, the Light side still held most of the public’s approval during the war. Yet, everything changed when the prophecy arrived.
When Albus had sat down that day in the pub, he wasn’t prepared for what would follow. Was not prepared to witness an event that would change the tides of the war. It was just a teaching interview, for Merlin’s sake!
But that day, when Trelawney had spoken in her dazed whisper, a prophecy concerning the Dark Lord and a mystery baby, Albus knew that everything was changing. Albus had hoped that this would mark the ending of the war.
(And it did, just not in the favor he’d hoped for.)
Albus had rushed to protect the possible baby. There were only two couples that fit the prophecy: the Potters and the Longbottoms. Albus was so certain that the Dark Lord would attack them, and he insisted they go into hiding. It made sense at the time, of course, as the Dark Lord wasn’t known for his planned and level-headed attacks.
So they went into hiding. Both the Potters and the Longbottoms went under Fidelius, despite the fact that neither baby had been born yet, and Dumbledore prepared his armies for the ultimate battle that was sure to follow. After all, if a baby was prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord, surely the Dark Lord would attempt to defeat it before it was even born.
Yet, months passed, and no attack occurred.
Albus knew that the Dark Lord knew of the prophecy---there were too many ears that day in the pub for him not to know---yet, nothing happened. Albus was convinced that the Dark Lord was merely biding his time, waiting for Albus to relax and let the two couples out of hiding before he would attack.
But as more and more weeks passed, Albus became less sure.
When Albus had heard from the Potters that their Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew, had betrayed them to the Dark Lord, Albus had rushed to their cottage in Godric’s Hollow as fast as he possibly could. He prayed that he would not be too late for the attack that was going to occur.
He wasn’t late because no such attack occurred.
When the Dark Lord didn’t attack them, despite knowing their location, choosing instead to infiltrate the ministry, Albus knew he’d been beaten. Because he’d been so focused on the prophecy and protecting the possible candidates, Voldemort had taken advantage of his lenience and took control of the Ministry right under his nose.
As more and more years passed, Voldemort gained control of the public---Magical Republic of the British Isles---and his New Ministry was changed to avoid corruption and discrimination, more of his followers left for the Dark. They saw the changes that they’d wanted for years come to pass under the new leadership and decided that they didn’t want to fight a war that had already been won.
Despite all of that, Albus kept an eye on the two prophecy children. Convincing Sirius that Harry was best raised with his muggle relatives was a struggle, but he’d managed. Neville, on the other hand, was stuck with his grandma despite his best efforts. But as the years passed, and Voldemort showed no interest in either child, Albus began to doubt.
The prophecy was rather convenient, Albus decided. It was done at a job interview for the Divination post at Hogwarts, and Trelawney had never spoken another prophecy after that. Albus supposed that there was a possibility that the prophecy had been faked, and if that were the case, and Voldemort knew this, then it was no wonder why he’d never gone after the children.
Albus was convinced it was a fake, however, after Harry Potter went missing when he was four years old. Albus had apparated to Privet Drive after Sirius had fallen into a fitful sleep the night he was supposed to bring Harry home, and scoured the area for any sign of Voldemort’s magical signature.
He found nothing.
It was as though Harry had never been there. (It was as though nothing had ever been there) The only proof that anyone had lived in the area was the burnt out husk of a house and the scattered remains of a ritual circle. It was too damaged for Albus to tell what ritual had been done, but if he had to hazard a guess, Albus would say it was a Pass of Rite Ritual.
The Pass of Rite Ritual was a ritual performed in traditional Pure-Blood families when a family member passed away. It was similar to the Final Rites that muggles performed on their dead. It appeared as though Harry Potter had passed away and his family performed the ritual to send him off. (Albus felt a small pang of melancholy at the thought. Lily must have shared the ritual with his muggle sister. They must have been close, like Albus had been with Ariana before… before everything)
When Harry Potter passed away, and nothing happened to Magical Britain, Albus knew that the prophecy was faked. It was rather frustrating, of course, but there was nothing he could do about it now. And because Trelawney already had the position, Albus saw no reason to get rid of her.
And so life continued on as usual. Albus still held Order meetings with whoever stayed with him, and even eleven years later, Albus continued to fight against the Dark Lord. Albus knew that despite all of the so-called “Good” Voldemort had done, deep down, nothing had changed. He was still the cruel little boy he’d always been. And Albus knew that to leave Magical Britain in the hands of Tom Riddle was to leave Magical Britain in the hands of death.
However, everything changed once again, when Harry Potter was found.
When Albus had been informed that Voldemort had an Inferius son, he’d been quite disturbed. He assumed that the creature was either controlling the Dark Lord, or was being controlled and was in need of rescuing. He had no idea that the Inferius was actually Harry Potter.
To see the child who he’d assumed was long dead, walking around, the Dark Lord’s magical signature pouring off his in waves, Albus had nearly choked. He had stared at him for a long time, watching the toddler hand out flowers to everyone with a critical eye.
He knew, the very second he laid eyes on him, that the prophecy had been real this whole time.
Never had Albus felt so lucky. He had inadvertently retrieved the child of the prophecy, who was at the perfect age to mold into the perfect hero. Sure, it would be a bit of a struggle because he was an Inferius, but Albus had a plan.
He would wait until the Inferius began to devolve from lack of magic, and when he was at his very worst, Albus would perform the ritual himself. This way, the Dark Lord’s magic would be cleansed from him, and in its place, Albus’s magic would rest. The Inferius would be grateful to him, and would no doubt bond himself to Albus. (That was how the Dark Lord got the Inferius to follow him, no doubt.)
But it was ruined when the Dark Lord sent out a warrant for his arrest. Albus had guessed that Voldemort would be anxious to have his weapon returned to him, and Severus’s warnings about how possessive Voldemort was of the child only served to convince him further. He wasn’t expecting, however, for Voldemort to go so public with his demand.
To be arrested was to lose his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and to lose his position was to lose his power and in turn, lose the war. As desperate as he was to keep Harry with him, he couldn’t afford the price.
Not yet, anyway.
So Albus was forced to return Harry to the Dark Lord. And what a show! Albus had never been more surprised by Tom in his entire life! Watching the pair interact, Albus could almost believe that Voldemort loved the child.
If Albus hadn’t known that Voldemort was incapable of love, he would have!
When The Dark Lord apparated away, Harry in tow, Albus knew right then and there that Harry was the child of the prophecy. Voldemort was obsessed with him, and he’d marked him as an equal. Albus had always assumed the mark part of the prophecy would be a physical thing, but this made much more sense. After all, what better way to mark someone than with your own magic?
Yes, Harry Potter was the prophecy child and he must be returned to the side of the light.
For the Greater Good.
Voldemort absently swiped at a fly that was buzzing irritatingly in his ear. He was hot, uncomfortably so, and the ground was damp against his bottom. Despite this, though, Voldemort was content.
In front of him, Little One giggled silently and chased a butterfly that Voldemort conjured with his magic. He watched with a fond smile on his face as his child danced around the back garden and stretched out his little fingers in the direction of the butterfly. Voldemort covered his smile with his hand when Little One froze, hoping to entice the butterfly to land on his finger.
It felt good to see Little One act so at ease. After the attack, seeing something as simple as Little One smiling was a treat. Little One was always afraid now, and any smiling he did seemed stilted and fake. Like the ones he wore when he lived with those damned muggles. Voldemort hated the very sight of it. So seeing Little One actually smile made Voldemort feel a weird bubbling sensation in his gut.
As much as Voldemort wished he could sit here in content silence forever, he was on a mission.
Yesterday, Voldemort had been approached by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin with an intriguing offer. As much as Voldemort wanted to dig his heels into the ground and refuse, he could not deny how helpful two extra spies in the Order would be. Even though the war was over, the Order was persistent in their efforts to ruin him. It was beginning to get irritating.
At first, Voldemort found their continued efforts to be amusing. It wasn’t until they’d kidnapped his precious that Voldemort began to feel rage towards them. Now that his child had been attacked by their organization twice, Voldemort wanted to end them.
That didn’t mean he was happy, though. In fact, Voldemort was just the opposite. Especially because the two spies in question held ties to his precious. And Black’s words…
Voldemort grit his teeth as he thought about the conversation he had with Black about Voldemort’s position as Little One’s father. Voldemort wasn’t afraid that Little One would like the couple more than him (Not even a little bit. Although he knew them from before the abuse and those were good memories.) Voldemort knew that he was the most important person in Little One’s life, just as it should be, and no matter what they did, they could not change that.
But even still…
“Papa?”
Voldemort looked up, startled out of his musings by a gentle pat on his cheek. He smiled when he saw Little One standing in front of him, a concerned look resting on his face. Little One’s anxiety eased slightly when he saw Voldemort’s smile, and Voldemort pressed a soft kiss to Little One’s rosy cheek.
“Yes, precious?” he asked, petting his head softly.
“What you think’in ‘bout?” Little One asked, his voice coming out in a soft whisper.
“What do you know about Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, dear one?” Voldemort asked. Little One tilted his head in confusion, and Voldemort cooed internally when his precious’s eyebrows furrowed adorably as he thought. When it was clear he didn’t recognize the name, Voldemort racked his brain to remember the ridiculous names that Black had called themselves. “... Do you know Padfoot and Moony?” he asked.
Voldemort bit back a frown at the excited grin that spread across his child’s face. “Uncle Padfoot an’ Uncle Moony?”
“That’s it, precious,” Voldemort said, refusing to let his disappointment show on his face. Voldemort didn’t like seeing his child so excited about someone that wasn’t him. “Do you know them?”
Little One nodded. “Stay wif’ them for days and days, Papa!” Little One said, a small whine escaping him as he stretched his arms wide as if to show how long he was away.
“I remember,” Voldemort nodded, a hint of bitterness bleeding into his tone. “Were… Were you happy around them?”
Voldemort almost dreaded the answer. He watched, a weird tightness building in his chest, as Little One frowned in thought. Finally, Little One said, “Missed you.”
Voldemort let a fond smile rest on his lips as he pulled Little One in for a close hug. “I missed you too, dearest,” he said. “Were you afraid around them? Did they hurt you?”
“Silly Papa,” Little One whispered, his tiny hands coming up to play with Voldemort’s fingers. “Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony never hurt me!”
Voldemort hated the strange feeling that came over him at that statement. Equal parts of him were both angered and relieved at the statement. Anger because Little One seemed happy to be talking about the couple, and relief because the couple had protected Little One when he couldn’t. The contradicting emotions made Voldemort clench his fists.
“Would you like to see them again?” Voldemort asked through gritted teeth.
Little One froze in his lap and Voldemort frowned. It was a strange reaction, and one that didn’t make sense. Little One was completely tense in his hold and Voldemort had no idea why. Little One let out a strained breath of air before he shrugged and relaxed back into his hold.
Voldemort put a pin in it for later, promising himself that he would go over what just happened when he had a moment.
“Is that a yes, darling?” Voldemort asked.
Little One shrugged once more before he shifted, burying his face in Voldemort’s chest, his hand coming up to clutch at Voldemort’s lapel. “‘M tired, Papa.” Little One said, not answering Voldemort’s previous question.
Voldemort didn’t pay too much mind to it, though, as it wasn’t uncommon for Little One to forget to answer a question. Instead of bothering his precious on the issue, Voldemort chose to wrap the Inferius up in his arms and carry him inside.
Voldemort laid the child in his bed but Little One whimpered and refused to let go of Voldemort’s robes. Voldemort sighed and picked him back up, walking through the portrait that connected their two rooms together. Voldemort gently set Little One down in his own bed, and this time, Little One cuddled deeper into the sheets.
Voldemort smiled softly at his sleeping child and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
“Goodnight precious,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”
Voldemort then closed the door to his bedroom and walked to his study. Little One showed no adverse reaction to Black and Lupin, so Voldemort would begrudgingly concede to their wish. Voldemort would allow them into his ranks, as well as the ability to see his child (it wouldn’t be a right, but a privilege. Something that could be taken away is necessary) in return for their spying against the Order.
Voldemort leaned back against his chair.
Yes, this might work nicely.