Disclaimer: Woohoo! I finally own Harry Potter! (does a victory dance until a mob of lawyers come up) Erm…I mean—it's such a shame I don't have any rights over J. K. Rowling's great work! Yeah, that's it! (nervous laugh) You're not going to…put me in jail, right?
Summary: Albus Dumbledore kept a great secret about the 'Boy' Who Lived...Whatever could happen and how can 'he' live through with pretending? Watch as 'he' tries to discovers the prejudices of society. AU, first year, girl!Harry, challenge from SaphirePhoenix.
This is my first attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction, or any fanfiction for any book for that matter. I am treading a bit on unfamiliar grounds so it would be greatly appreciated if you would give me your opinions on how I am going. Thank you.
Oh, and this whole story is dedicated to SaphirePhoenix for inspiring me with her stories. My plot bunnies needed to go somewhere useful XD I hope I don't disappoint you! Thanks a whole bunch!
"The greatest friend of Truth is Time, her greatest enemy is Prejudice, and her constant companion, Humility."
-Charles Caleb Colton (1780-1823)
Defying Prejudices: Submerged
By Milky Etoile
Chapter One: Toying with Regrets
Regret is a feeling that no one wants to have. It is because it is the horrible emotion that one would get whenever they could have done something that they, in the end, resolved not to, or if they did something that, later on, was thought of as the wrong thing to have been done. Regret is something that lingers no matter how much time passes. It would always be found in the corner of one's heart, waiting for a chance to lounge out at the person and pull them down. Some manage to crawl out of the hole that regret had dug for them, stronger-willed and accepting, while some would be buried alive by the nagging of their conscience, wallowing themselves in self-pity.
Needless to say, regret was like a beast found inside a person, bidding for its time to come out. But, alas, not one person has been able to stand up to such a monster. Humans can only stand firm on their ground when it strikes. Of course, it does not help that the number of regrets that a person has grows in time, some greater than the greatest that he or she has had. Albus Dumbledore was not an exception.
The famed headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one who had many regrets from the long life he has led. They ranged from arguing with his brother at the age of nine to the time he had forgotten to wear his favorite pair of socks on the day of his latest birthday.
Yes, he was a man of many regrets. But perhaps the matter at hand was the reason for the greatest one he had.
Not one of the owls that his Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, had sent to a certain incoming student came back with a reply. They were all empty-handed, or in this case, empty- clawed.
Normally, he would not be worried much about such a matter—he always knew that the Transfiguration professor would be able to sort things out. But then, the current case was different.
It was different simply because the said student was known to the whole wizarding world as Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.
Yes, it was the year when everyone was expecting their savior, who had unknowingly gotten rid of their greatest fears, to come to the greatest magical institution in the whole world to start his studies. He was quite aware that probably more than a few had been counting the days on their calendars for the day the only living Potter could possibly grace them with his wonderful presence. He knew it was probably a bad thing to let people worship the boy who was merely eleven years of age but he couldn't bring himself to stop them. Well, he doubted anyone would stop idolizing their great savior if he told them to do so after offering them one out of his great stocks of lemon drops. That would certainly be highly unlikely.
The old wizard sighed tiredly as he leaned back in his soft cushioned chair. He was going nowhere with all that pondering. Unfortunately, it was all he could do at the moment. He had instructed Minerva to continue trying to send letters when she had walked into his office in fury. The witch had argued with him yet again about his decision of leaving the boy in 'those blasted relatives of his', as she had put it. He had managed to pacify her by telling her that they might be able to get a response soon enough. She had stalked out of the room, still looking ready to kill if the dark looks she kept on shooting at whatever moved were to be the basis. It was apparent that she was very much concerned about the son of two of the most brilliant of her students.
"Albus! How could you just sit there, eating your bloody sweets?!" A purple-faced Minerva McGonagall was seething. "For all we know, the boy could have been driven out of that home," she hissed the word like it was venom, "by those blasted relatives of his!" It was obvious that she never liked the arrangements one bit.
"Minerva, please." Dumbledore tried to calm the angry Head of the Gryffindor house. "I know that you are worried for him but I am sure it might be just some minor problem—"
"A minor problem?!?" The headmaster tried not to flinch at the tone of her voice. "How could a minor problem probably prevent a student to even just read his admission letter?" She put on an unusually thoughtful-like expression. "Oh, maybe he was out on a vacation overseas? Or maybe he got involved in an accident and became blind?" In a moment, McGonagall's already-sharp eyes narrowed as they were set on the old wizard. "Or it could be that those blasted relatives of his prevented him from getting his letter!" she spat out incredulously. Dumbledore sighed.
"Now, Minerva, I'm sure the Dursleys are better than you give them credit for. It might be—"
"It might be, what?" she cut in again. "You know as well as I do that those muggles detest the very existence of magic! It would be no surprise if they hate the boy for being the son of a witch and a wizard!" The headmaster sighed again as he turned to look up at the still-fuming Transfiguration professor.
"Minerva, the only thing we can do now is to continue trying to send letters to the child. I am sure one of them would reach him eventually." He held up a hand to stop her from retorting and added, "Please?"
The woman considered for a moment before she sighed in defeat. "Very well, Albus. I will try to send him letters." She stopped for a moment, leveling her eyes to his to give him a stern expression. "But if he does not open even just a single letter, I will personally visit those pathetic excuses of relatives to see that it is done and you cannot prevent me from doing so." Before Dumbledore could do anything, McGonagall strolled out of the office, glaring at virtually everything she passed on her way.
He sighed. Maybe he should take matters to his own hands too.
He, himself, was very much worried for the child. He knew well enough that the Dursleys were not the best bunch of muggles anywhere in the world but he had always put it on good hope that they would take their poor orphaned nephew under their wing and care for him. That was one thing he was regretting more and more as the moments passed without any news of Harry.
But then, there was one more thing that he was beginning to regret more than leaving Harry Potter on the doorstep of his only living relatives.
Albus Dumbledore was now regretting having yet to reveal a grave secret about the young Potter to everyone. It was something that had been kept since the day of his birth for his own safety precautions. He just knew Harry would not like the idea of him keeping that little fact when he found out. He'd be disturbed by just the idea of it. No doubt, if that was revealed, though, the whole wizarding world just might go on rampage.
He almost grimaced. That thought was not at all encouraging. He'd prefer losing his favorite pair of socks any day to facing a whole horde of angered mobs demanding his reasons.
Now he did grimace. He actually now liked facing the said horde rather than losing his favorite socks. They were very cute with those yellow star patterns on the dark blue-colored clothing. And the starts really shone too. He shook his head. He shouldn't really be thinking about his socks, should he? But he couldn't help it...
Erm...anyway, it was probably not such a bad idea after all, keeping that secret (besides the whole prophecy matter, which wasn't really counted at the moment). The more he thought about it now, the more he believed it might've been such a good thing after all. And, besides, it might be an interesting affair and Dumbledore certainly liked interesting affairs just like the time Severus' hair had been turned pink by two unknown students. Interesting indeed. Very amusing.
He smiled as he popped a piece of his favorite yellow sweet into his mouth. He probably shouldn't have worried at all. After all, telling the whole magical community that the Boy-Who-Lived was actually the Girl-Who-Lived, named Harriette Potter.
No, that was certainly not a bad thing.
And, thus, with that thought, the great Albus Dumbledore continued sucking on his Lemon Drops, blissfully unaware of what had happened to the very person he had been thinking of...
October 31st, Hallow's Eve, loomed over Godric's Hollow. The residents of the huge yet usually cozy house were wary as alarms went off, signaling that someone had come into their home.
"Lily! Take Harry and run!" The dark-haired man ushered his wife to move away.
"Go! Don't worry about me!" He gave her and the child in her arms the last kisses he would be able to. He managed to give them a weak smile before turning around with a determined expression. He would not let his family be hurt by a foul being.
Lily held the baby tighter and hurriedly left the room. As she was making her way to the back door, she couldn't help the tears from falling from her emerald eyes as she heard a shout.
She didn't let her steps falter as she looked down at her child. It only looked up to her with innocent green eyes. She was stopped when a flash of red light missed her by a few centimeters. Turning around, she faced the ugliest creature she had ever seen. The man smiled at her, a most gruesome expression that didn't fit his features.
"Lily, Lily..." He stepped forward, making the woman step back and hold the bundle she carried closer to her. "You do not have to end your life here. Hand over the child and join me! I will give you power you've only seen in your dreams!"
Lily's expression turned to that of defiance.
"Never! I'd rather die than bow to the likes of you!" Her emerald eyes pierced into his blood-colored ones. He narrowed them and let out a snarl.
"Foolish mudblood! Your bravery will get you nowhere!" He walked closer to the woman who was now leaning on the wall behind her. "Hand over the child now!"
"No! Not Harry! Take my life instead!" She held the baby away from his grasp. The man then put on a sinister smile.
"Very well. You leave me no choice!" He pointed his wand towards the red-haired female. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
In a moment, her lifeless body slid down the wall, leaving the white bundle that she held to roll gently from her lap to the floor beside her. The intruder looked down at the small figure's green eyes.
"You are to be the end of me? Impossible!" He then pointed towards the baby's forehead, shouting, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" He then burst out laughing for he thought that no one could ever stop him then.
He was wrong. Not a moment later, the green light rebounded towards him, hitting him squarely in the chest.
And soon, the light disappeared. There was no body left from the man. Everything in the house was still and eerily quiet.
Until the cries of a child echoed through the halls of Godric's Hollow where only one living being now remained.
...and, ten years later, somewhere in London, a long-and-dark-haired girl paused in the middle of her walk as she sneezed.
"Bloody hell, have I gotten a cold now?" Her piercing emerald green eyes narrowed in displeasure. It was certainly not her day today.
"Stupid, damn, blasted relatives..." she mumbled under her breath after sniffing and hefting her knapsack on her back. No one paid attention to her as she continued on the sidewalk, cursing her relatives who were the bane of her existence. Thus, no one noticed the lightning-shaped scar that was on her forehead even as the wind blew her hair away from it.'One day, I'll get back at them…they'll see…'
To be continued...
Okay…I have no idea if it was the actual chapter that made the word-count more than two thousand or if it was the author's notes. Drat. Ah well. I'll just have to do better next time.
If anyone's got any questions, feel free to ask. I have no idea if I made this appear a bit vague or something so you'll have to inform me about it. REVIEW, PLEASE! Constructive criticisms are always welcomed. If you'd rather give a flame, try and see if I'll mind you. Well, I just might anyway. I haven't gotten that long of patience.
Thank you for taking the time to read and I'm hoping you will also be able to find the time to review. My readers are the reasons for my existence! Hehe…sort of, anyway. Take care and I hope to see you in the next chapter!
Milky signing out!
This chapter was written on May 24, 2007, revised and posted on May 28, 2007.