The Risk's We Take
You of all people...
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter, neither does anyone I know... as far as I know...
A/N This is a fic I intended to be a one shot but ended up being longer. It will eventually be HP/SS slash, but I don't know after this last book... Anyway, set after OOTP, Hope you like:D
When Harry returned to Hogwarts pregnant after the summer Albus Dumbledore ordered the baby destroyed. His only chance at family, however, was not about to be eradicated because of some old, stupid, unwanted prophecy... HP/SS slash later
"You of all people, Harry, cannot take this risk at the moment. You cannot be without your magic for any length of time. Who knows when you might be attacked? No, I am sorry Harry. It is far too dangerous. Now, if you would go see Madam Pomfrey tomorrow she shall give you the potion to get rid of the baby. Come and see me when the process is finished, and you feel rested."
Harry sat on his bed staring at mid air, one hand rested on his stomach.
Pregnant. And they were making him give it up. Just because he couldn't use magic for nine months. 'Detrimental to the baby's health' they said.
Slowly he took out quill and parchment, and began to write a letter.
How much of the prophecy did Voldemort know? The first part only, the part that told him it was Harry that would 'vanquish' him. Well, then everyone can know what he knows. There are too many secrets in this war as it is.
Yes, Harry thought, writing quickly, before he lost his nerve. The wizarding world would soon know all they wished to about the famous Harry Potter, and Lord Voldemort.
To the Wizarding people.
I have left your world temporarily. Why? I'm pregnant. I imagine that many of you are already congratulating me, or sobbing over the fact. Either way doesn't matter. I was raped, and subsequently got pregnant. This doesn't matter. Rape, sadly, is nothing new to me. I have been raped in body, mind and trust all my life it seems.
Growing up my family abused me extensively. I was seven when my uncle first raped me. But as I said, that doesn't matter.
Mentally I am raped every night. I watch through the eyes of Voldemort as he kills innocents, torturing them until they beg. I feel each curse. However I have become numb to this torment over time, so do not feel so bad about that either.
Then there is trust.
As a child I was placed with a family of Muggles who made it clearly known to their family that they hated magic in any form. Yet I was still placed there in the hope that my aunts blood should protect me, because of the sacrifice my mother made. This blood protection is now null and void; I renounce the house my aunt lives at as my home.
When I was reintroduced to the magical world there was no transition period that most Muggle born children went through; I was told I was famous, that I had killed a dark wizard as a baby, and then left to fend mostly for myself. Muggle children had guides to help them and their families adjust; I was sent to Diagon Alley with Rubeus Hagrid on the thirty first of July only because there was no reply to my Hogwarts letter. There was no reply because my family refused to let me go to Hogwarts to learn 'Freak Stuff'.
Ever since then I have been lied to, hated, feared and then returned to the pedestal you have all placed me on with little say in the matter. Liar, murderer, Dark Wizard; You have called me all these and more over the last five years.
The last blow I feel comes today though. Today I discovered I am pregnant. I decided to keep the baby. It is not at fault for who caused it to be created. However this choice was not given to me.
Albus Dumbledore has decided that I shall have an abortion on the morrow; today for all of you. It is deemed too dangerous for me to be without magic for nine months. So I have made my decisions, and I say this.
Albus Dumbledore is a manipulative old man who is sacrificing too much for this war. We are supposed to be saving lives, not killing them before they even have a chance. I have been sacrificed since I was one in the hope that one day I would be ready to defeat Voldemort, manipulated and controlled by Albus Dumbledore.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied them, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies.
This prophecy was made a month before my birth, by a seer who, though not gifted in daily prophecy, has given many powerful ones in her life. It is the entirety of the prophecy, and as it says I have been marked by Voldemort.
But I refuse to live in a world, or help one, that would take my child from me forcefully, or send it away to live with people who hated it and would kill it as vermin if they thought they could get away with it. So, at least until my baby is born, I am flying to America. It is a big country, I should be safe there. I shall keep you all informed as to my health, of course. It would not do for the saviour of the wizarding world to just disappear would it, especially when he is pregnant, raped by a man who was supposed to care for it. Him.
Oh, and Voldemort? If you read the Daily Prophet, as you sit in that drafty manor I have nightmares about in the morning with a cup of coffee and your toast, don't try to find me. I'm good at hiding when I want to; Growing up like we did you tend to get that ability doesn't it, Tom? You won't find me, but I can find you. Don't piss me off for nine months and I won't come looking the first instant I can.
See you in my sleep.
A blond youth put down his paper at the street side café and sipped at his coke. It had gone warm in the summer sun, and he winced in disgust as he set it down, flexing his mouth to get rid of the taste. He folded up the paper and placed some money on the table as a tip before wandering down the street.
Rome was beautiful in the late summer. Flowers burst out at him on all sides as he walked and their scent followed him tangibly through the streets. It hadn't taken long to fly here, though he had been sore when he finally got off his godfathers motorbike. He was intending to ride to the south of Italy and from there… his destination. He still had to cross the equator, and he wasn't looking forward to that, though it should be the least populated area of his journey, and he would need less concealment charms. It used too much fuel to keep them on all the time. He climbed on the bike and started it running, looking up the street both ways before putting his foot on the accelerator, crouching into the G-force as he shot off, reaching 80 mph within seconds, and then off into the sky, invisible to all.
He liked flying low to the ocean. He flew fast, wanting to reach land before it grew dark and find somewhere to stay. He was glad he could usually find someone who spoke English. In the few instances he couldn't he had camped out overnight in a tent he had bought in Paris, Rue Fullie. It was spacious and comfortable, for which he was grateful. There was something nice, however, in being able to sleep in a real room, and not a wizards tent, that made him try again and again to find somewhere to sleep.
He was enjoying his -ha- road trip. Making his way south east slowly, in entirely the wrong direction that he had sent everyone looking, he had come across very few reasons to worry. He kept his eyes open constantly; he knew some people would suspect him of lying, and who knew when he might meet someone on holiday that would recognise him? Once a group of people had taken far too much notice of him and he had escaped from the motel quickly, disappearing into the sky. He didn't think them to be wizards, but he was careful to hide well that night.
It had been six weeks since he had left England. It had been nerve-racking at first, and he had been nervous and jumpy constantly, but he had come to find he enjoyed travelling, always a new place to go, a new sight to see. He thought vaguely of popping in to see Bill at some point, but knew that would be a bad idea. Not only did he not know where Bill worked in Egypt, he had no idea how much contact he had with England. Oh sure he owled his mother weekly, but was he a member of the Order of the Phoenix? He didn't know.
It was dark before he hit land in northern Egypt. He followed the coast until he came to what had to be the Nile. He didn't go to any towns he saw that night, just planted his tent in the first likely spot and climbing inside, turning the magical temperature moderating charms on and crawling into his bed, exhausted.
He realised his mistake some hours later as water invaded his tent. Climbing out of it, sodden and confused, Harry suddenly realised he was on the tidal plain. He packed up quickly, cursing in the morning sunlight and shivering slightly from cold. The sun had not risen long, and though it was warming him quickly, it had not yet warmed the water around him. The damp tent stored in the saddle bags on the bike to be dried later Harry climbed on in his leathers and started her up.
She protested mightily before sulking in the shallow water.
"Shit." Harry swore, pushing his blond hair out of his eyes. It needed gelling to get it in the style he was coming to grow used to seeing in the mirror but he had no time. Soon this entire island would be under water and he needed to get off now!
He looked up when he was hailed. A boat was floating towards him through the deeper water, and a man was looking down at him in amusement.
"Hello stranger!" the man called in perfect English. "Can we be of assistance?"
Harry smiled and waved guiltily. "It would be much appreciated, yes!"
"Just a moment, we'll bring her about!" the man started to yell in a foreign language before turning back to Harry. "How'd you manage to get out here!" he laughed as the boat slowly changed direction.
"I flew!" Harry laughed. "I have a flying motorbike and it's got a sulk on!"
The man laughed. "Aye, I knew someone back in England with a bike like that. Alright lad, keep your secrets. The Gringott Goblin will be happy to help!"
Harry's jaw dropped. He gaped for a long moment and then called out, in what he hoped was a casual voice, "So what hair colour is that supposed to be? Looks like you had a fight with a wild bear!"
"No chance out here, or in my line of work. I have much more fun. This got burnt off a few days ago, else it'd be down here and you'd be calling me Carrot!"
Harry groaned. Of all the people to save him, of all the places to meet, and of all the coincidences, this had to be one of the worst he could have had. Having decided not to search Bill out, or at least keep an ear open, he had become stranded and saved by him.
His life really did like to fuck with him.
It seemed, however, that with contact lenses, makeup to hide the scar, black biker leathers and blond hair he somehow managed to keep it from Bill that he was, in fact, Harry Potter.
When given five minutes he spiked his hair up and reapplied the fading coating of makeup. He then spent a pleasant day cruising up the Nile. Apparently Bill worked with a group of bankers who had sent him out to Egypt to find buildings to invest in. A nice, simple truth wrapped up in not telling him anything at all. Harry almost laughed when he realised that Bill had not told him one lie since they had met.
In the few instances Harry had seen goblins on the ship he had made sure to ask Bill, quietly, what had happened to the little man with much scarring. Bill had said it was a birth formality, and the goblins had been less stringent about keeping out of Harry's sight, though he never saw more than one at once.
He had not met Bill before. He had seen pictures and heard stories, but neither had prepared him for the real thing. This man oozed sexuality and he flirted with both males and females in the towns they stopped at. For a week Harry was confused as to what he was feeling. He felt nothing for Bill other than a good friendship now. Yet he did find himself waking from strange dreams now, where he would find Bill touching him in ways he wasn't sure he was quite comfortable with.
"I'm bi," Bill had said out of the blue the day Harry had said he intended to leave. "What about you?"
"I like guys and girls," Bill explained casually.
Harry had sat and looked out over the empty river for a long while.
"I don't know. I had a girlfriend once but it sort of fell through. A friend of hers died, all I seemed to get were very wet kisses. I guess girls don't interest me much" Bill laughed. "As for guys… I never really thought about it until recently."
"Oh? What suddenly changed your mind?"
Harry looked shrewdly at Bill. "A lot of things really. You read the newspaper a lot?"
"Nothing you'd read I'm sure, but go on."
"Don't be too sure. Anyway, things happen to a guy that change their outlook. To girls too. In fact I never knew until it happened that it could happen…" Harry trailed off, staring into space.
"Hey, Blondie? Blondie, you in there? Oi, Malfoy look-alike!"
Harry snapped out of it in outrage. "I'm insulted!" he said in mock reproach.
"What, that I called you Blondie?" Bill grinned, leaning back.
Harry went over to his bike. "Not at all," he said, shrugging into his magically cooled leathers and swinging his leg over the bike, starting her up swiftly. "I'm insulted you called me a Malfoy. I'll have you know I am nothing like either Draco or Lucius Malfoy." He knew he would replay the look on Bill's face for years to come. The man's jaw almost hit the floor he was so stunned.
"You… you're a wizard!" Bill squeaked. It was rather loud, and people turned in shock.
Harry saluted Bill flippantly. "Right in one, Master Weasley! Say hi to the family for me now won't you? And ask Dobby to send some of his cooking, I'm dying to try some and I simply didn't have the time. Oh, there is a letter in my cabin you might want to send to the Daily Prophet. I'm sure they'll be most impressed." Harry revved the bike and lined himself up for a spectacular escape.
"See you in Moscow!" He yelled as he took off, speeding up until he was about to hit the rails and then he was in the air.
"HARRY POTTER RIDES AGAIN!" he shrieked as he flew around the boat once before shooting off at 150 mph, disappearing in moments.