Summary: When Harry was a baby he was stolen from a very prominent family. Now on his eleventh birthday he will come into some rather difficult truths. Not only is he related to the Malfoy's, but the balance between Light and Dark is twisted and the Wizarding World is in desperate need of its King.
Warnings: Neglect, Abuse, Slight Profanity, Blurred Lines, Pureblood!Harry, Powerful!Harry, Political!Harry, Good!Malfoy's,
A/N: Inspired by the fanfiction "Avalon Seven" by sifshadowheart. She is an amazingly talented writer who everyone should totally check out and I hope that she doesn't take offense to this or believe I am plagiarizing her amazing work.
Chapter One: Hard Won Truths
Harry had never understood why his relatives hated him, or why they closed the curtains when he cleaned and made him do his outdoor chores in the night or early morning. He had never understood it, but he had never questioned it. The first rule to a relatively peaceful life with the Dursleys was "Don't Ask Questions". A rule he had learned early on.
Harry may not have understood, but Petunia knew. She knew her sisters terrible secret. She knew why Lilly had married that awful wizard boy. She knew what her sister had taken to her grave. Lilly had had such terrible difficulties falling pregnant. She had tried so hard in the beginning, but the stress of her infertility had made her sick – all but forcing her to give up her dreams of being a mother. This was something Petunia had lorded over her Freak of a sister at first. She had been pregnant with Dudley almost immediately after marrying Vernon. She had waved the ultrasound in front of her sisters' face and then sneered about the "joys of pregnancy" at the annual family reunion. Until Lilly, perfect, beautiful Lilly, had brought a child to the dinners. A child Lilly had certainly never carried but claimed as hers. Claiming the tiny child to be a year old. Petunia horded that secret knowledge to herself. Never daring to voice her ridicules, but just knowing was as much victory enough. Until she was left with her sisters Secret on her doorstep on that night.
Try as she might, Petunia could never bring herself to love the boy, or even remotely care about her sister son, adopted or otherwise. At first she had held him, fed him and gladly housed him. Until he had started to crawl. The crawling was different than Dudley, different than a normal baby. Freakishness had invaded her home, something she would not allow. So she had turned Vernon's heavy hand on him early. Let him feel the consequences of using his Freak powers. But the "accidents" never stopped, they only grew more powerful. Until Vernon could no longer use the usual spankings and corner time to stop it for months at a time. The year Harry had turned eight, a great many things changed. The first of which was punishment.
When Harry was eight, he had broken an urn that held Vernon's parents ashes. The Urn had shattered, scattering the ashes across the carpet in the living room. Then, like it had never happened, the Urn stood on its place on the mantel place and not even a single ash was visible on the carpet. Vernon had stared at the boy in silent horror as the events unfolded. The he had snapped. Grabbing the boy he dragged him by the upper arm into their Dry Storage cupboard. That was the first of many beatings Petunia pretended not to hear. The first of many punishments Petunia pretended didn't happen. The first day Petunia "forgot" to feed him.
Harry laid his dark cupboard under the stairs nursing his bruised arm. Vernon had been angry at the letters. They had kept coming and coming in weirder and more impossible ways. Harry had suggested that he answer one, maybe that would stop them. Vernons face had turned purple and he had grabbed him by the arms and shaken him. All the while shouting "YOU WILL NOT ANSWER A SINGLE BLOODY LETTER! DO YOU HEAR ME BOY?" Harry had earned the belting when he answered,
"It's impossible not to." He had been cheeky. He had deserved the thrashing. He was still unsure whether or not he deserved the Shake. The suggestion had been a good one, in his little head. Why not answer one of letters? Why not ask for whoever was sending them to stop? But here he lay. Nursing a few bruises for his trouble and a stinging backside.
Yet, despite the day being Sunday, the letters were there the next day. Petunia had stopped going outside during the day, and Vernon had been twitchy when he went to work the following Monday. Harry spent most of his time curled up in his cupboard. The lie that he was homeschooled worked in his relatives favour. Keeping him home when he should have been at school. Petunia was not stupid though. She knew that having an illiterate nephew would reflect badly on her, so she had taught him until he could read, write and count well enough to teach himself. With so much time in his cupboard there was little else for him to do. He had hoped they would move him into the second bedroom when he had seen the address on the first Letter. Addressed to his cupboard. But Petunia had quickly shot down Vernon's idea. Harry had heard them fighting the same afternoon he had received the first one. Petunia had refused Point-Blank. The Freak was to have no room other than the one already provided. Harry found he wouldn't have minded her second suggestion of sleeping outside too much. He enjoyed the stars when he was forced out of the house once a week to do the midnight gardening.
So Harry sat in his cupboard and listened to the sound of the house, the creaks of the foundation harmonized with his growling stomach, singing him to sleep.
A banging on his cupboard door woke him. "Up! Get Up! Breakfast won't cook itself!" The familiar screeching chased the last of the drowsiness. Harry waited for the locks to be opened and for Petunia to move away from the door so that he could climb out of his sanctuary. Once he was out he went to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth quickly and with as little water as he could. Then he moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. An English Breakfast then. With a nod to himself he pulled the ingredients from the fridge. Noticing the extra bacon Harry smiled. He knew tonight was his birthday, so bacon was the perfect thing to celebrate with. If he cooked up both packets he could give Vernon and Dudley an extra serving each and slip a piece from their plates without them noticing. He had done the trick before with great success.
Soon the bacon was on plates and the eggs cooked perfectly beside them. Petunia and Dudley's tea was steeping while Vernon's coffee brewed. Quickly he checked through the house, hoping to stop any letter from being seen by his aunt and uncle. Oddly enough, there were no letters. The house was as immaculate as he had left it the previous evening and not a single piece of paper or white object had been tampered with. Vernon would be pleased with himself.
And indeed he was.
"I told you Pet, didn't I? Firm hand is right. We ignored those damn funny letters from Those People" Vernon spat the letter-senders title out like they were a bad sip of coffee "and they have finally seen that we have no intention of replying or sending the boy to the Freak School." Harry rolled his eyes as he cleared the table. A piece of bacon smuggled securely in his hand. He hadn't had bacon in years. 'God I hope I still like this" He had prayed when he made his move to swindle the lonely bacon piece. He was so focused on his small victory that he tuned out the rest of the adult conversation that Dudley was desperately trying to pay attention to, in hopes of learning something to lord over his cousin. Dudley never found anything of worth to either Harry or himself.
Unfortunately the peace didn't last. Just as Vernon's fork brought his first bite of egg to his lips… an owl flew in through the open kitchen window and landed on the table. A letter clutched in its beak. Vernon and the owl stared off at each other, daring the other to make a move. Vernon's face turned purple, then he started to shake and Harry could only picture steam coming out of his ears.
"BOY! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE THAT WINDDOW OPEN! HOW DARE YOU LET THIS DAMN OWL INTO OUR HOME! YOU WILL BE IN FOR IT!" Suddenly, like flicking a light off, Vernon's voice dropped down to a hiss. "I should have given you a proper thrashing years ago. I should have beaten you bloody. You only have yourself to blame for this…. Mess." Just then Dudley, who had heaved himself from his chair and had been making his way towards the left over bacon strips in the pan, pushed Harry. Right. Into. The stove. Harry raised his hands to catch himself as he fell backwards, one landing in the pan with the bacon grease, and the other on the burner, still hot from the eggs. Several things happened at once. Harry screamed, Petunia shrieked Vernon's name, Vernon lunged forwards to drag Harry to the pantry and Dudley started laughing. The owl remained on the table, oblivious to the chaos he had perched himself in the center of. The letter that was clutched in its beak, had anyone read it, contained a small note – a warning – that there was to be a visitor at number four Privet Drive on July the 24th at 1:00 pm.
Lord Edric Blackwell had been looking for the Heir of the Potter line since the untimely death of his parents. After five long years of searching he had all but given up. He still had his informants out in the world, keeping and eye and an ear open for the Potter Lord. This week he had been particularly desperate to finally find his sworn lord. The cause for the sudden urgency was Harry Potter's eleventh birthday, one of the most important birthdays wizarding world. Eleven was when children are declared the heirs for their houses or, in the Potter's case, become the lord of their house. Finally, Harry Potter had been found due to the interception of an owl from Arabella Figg to Albus Dumbledore. If the squib was informing Dumbledore about Harry Potter from her house in Magnolia Crescent, then the Potter Heir was close by. So Lord Edric Blackwell had addressed a letter to Harry Potter in Magnolia Crescent and stuck a tracking charm to the owl. The Owl had never been able to find the Potter heir before, but he hoped that if given a nearby location the owl would find its way. And so far he had been right.
With the new information he had acquired, Edric looked up the family his Lord was living with. They were muggles. The epitome of muggles if he had ever seen any. Vernon Dursley worked at Grunnings Drills, his recent promotion had made the local paper. As had Petunia Dursleys 'Best Garden' Award – Three Year Running'. Their son was enrolled in Smeltings Privet School, where Vernon had gone and attributed to his "growing success". How would Harry Potter turn out, living with these people?
At 1:00 on the dot, dressed in his finest muggle suit, he apparated directly to the location of his tracking charm. Number four Privet Drive. The house was a mirror image of the other two houses on either side of it. The only difference was how the garden was arranged. He knocked on the door. The welcome he received was not expected. Vernon Dursley opened the door and immediately slammed it in his face. He could hear the brief scuffle and some whisper shouting between Vernon and presumably his wife. When the door opened again it was to the simpering face of Petunia Dursley.
"Come in, come in. We weren't expecting you." Edric entered the house at the behest of Petunia he immediately noticed the faint smell of cleaning solution mixed with the unpleasant hint of something burning.
"So you did not receive my letter? I was sure I had sent it early this morning." Petunia simply gave him a weak smile.
"No post on Sundays." Was her only reply. She showed him past the kitchen and into the sitting room, where Vernon stood with a glass of whine and a small platter of biscuits on the table. He looked much more controlled than he had at first glance, most likely due to his "warning bell". Edric smiled almost nastily at the large man. Vernon it seemed didn't notice.
"Tea or coffee sir?" Petunia simpered, holding a teapot up and poised over his glass.
"No, thank you. I would prefer to get straight to business." Edric half smiled at her, his eyes firmly glued to the fat muggle in front of him.
"A man who knows what he wants!" The fat muggle boomed, his voice all bluster and false bravado. "I agree. How can I help you Mr…" Edric allowed him to stew a little before reply;
"Lord Blackwell of Wiltshire." Edric could see the greed lighting up the fat muggles beady eyes. Perhaps this would be easier than he had first believed.
Usually Harry wasn't afraid of the dark, just afraid of what would happen to him if the Dursleys forgot about him. Now, however… the darkness was oppressive and heavy. He could feel everything far more acutely. From the hairs on his neck rising, to the sharp stinging in his back from where his uncle had beaten him. The silence and the darkness made the made his sense of touch that much more uncomfortable. Harry could hear the adults talking about something. Whatever it was Harry knew his uncle was excited. He could hear the difference in their voices. Aunt Petunia's voice became higher and it sounded like she was speaking out of her nose. Vernon's voice became deeper and it sounded like he was talking through a large inhale. Harry usually found it quite funny, but today he was just too tired. He could feel his eyes becoming heavier and his breath slowing. He knew what was happening. He was dying. Harry wasn't stupid or optimistic. He knew what Vernon had done and he knew why. He understood that Vernon had gone too far and nothing could help him short of magic.
But magic didn't exist.
As Harry's heart beat slower and slower, his magic was growing. What Harry didn't know was that magic had saved him. When Vernon had beaten him for the first time his magic had saved him. When he had been left at home for two weeks with no food or water, his magic had saved him. Just as magic was saving him now. It twisted itself into his wounds, trying to seal the skin and clot the blood. From where Harry had hit his head, tiny wisps of magic were subconsciously directed to form protective mesh around the cracks in his skull. The burns on Harry's hands were being used to strip away the damaged tissue, while magic worked at repairing the nerve damage.
But as the tiny wisps of magic worked. Harry's magical core grew brighter from the stress the tiny subconscious was put under. The core grew brighter until it lit up Harry's aura and became a visible dot of light, just under Harry's skin.
Edric slowly became aware of a magical presence as he spoke with Vernon of his missing Lord. He could feel the magic growing and pulsing in the air, making the air itself heavy and almost difficult to breath. He could see Vernon beginning to sweat and gasp from the lack of pure air. He too had to pause for a deep breath and to take a sip of the offered tea. Finally the magic grew almost unbearable.
"May I ask to see the boys?" Vernon puffed himself out further and called for Dudley. Apparently not hearing the plural. Dudley lumbered down the stairs. He stood in front of Edric while Edric stared at Vernon piercingly. Finally he coughed and rephrased.
"I want to see all the boys in the household Mr Dursley." Vernon almost flinched before sneering and lying unconvincingly; "There are no other boys in this household sir."
"I am afraid that you are quite wrong about that Mr. Dursley. In fact I can feel his magic from here." Petunia and her husband grew very pale at the word "magic". Petunia held her breath while Vernon let all of his out. They stared at each other in a tense, uneasy silence. Finally Edric grew tired of the charade and stood to his full height and allowed some of his aura to leak out and mingle with the already suffocating magic in the air.
"Let me make this very simple for you muggle. I have come for Harry Potter and I will not be kept from him a moment longer. You have hidden him somewhere, but he wants to be found. His magic needs him to be found. Now tell me… where is he?" Dudley was the first to break and all but wailed the location of his cousin.
"He's in the pantry. Dad put him there after he was finished punishing him!" Edric pulled his wand on the small fat boy, who squealed like a pig and ran from the room crying. Edric turned his wand on Vernon next, who was still in the process of turning a sickly shade of purple.
"You had no right to lay a hand on Harry Potter. None. If you have lain your hands on the Potter heir in violence and mistreatment this pleasant and normal life of yours will vanish so quickly you won't even realize you had it." Petunia grew weak in her legs and sank down onto the nearby couch shaking and pasty white in fear. "Now. Show me where he is!"
Vernon stumbled and slowly began to move. Edric was led to a small door in the side of the kitchen; the pantry sank into the ground shallowly, calling for a deep step down into the cemented floor. The only light in the room was that spilling in from the kitchen and the, now, visible aura of magic. The wild magic in the room knocked the breath from Edric's lungs. He could barely make out a small white dot – seemingly floating in the centre of a white aura. The magical light loosely outlined Harry's blood covered body.
"What have you done to him?" Edric hissed. Quickly he rushed to the body of his missing Lord. The cuts were healing, but not fast enough. Without professional help, Harry Potter would die.
Edric picked Harry up – 'Too light. Too small.' – and with barely a second thought, apparated away from the house. Just as his boots hit the ground in the lobby of St. Mungos he noticed that Harry was no longer breathing, and he couldn't feel a pulse.