Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters within.

Harry Potter and the Fairy Curse

"I don't see why you continue your useless search. You're never going to find them." The voice was a smooth drawl, a low purr designed to send shivers down ones spine. The speaker was shrouded in shadows, keeping well away from the curious fingers of light the other occupant of the room had brought with them into the room.

Cold silver eyes glared accusingly other man through the spell-light, why must he continue to taunt him so? Hadn't he suffered for long enough? He would very much like to be left in peace, not have his last dregs of hope dangled out for his enemies to devour.

"You give up too easily, my prince. Trust in me, I will not fail you." The speaker now was a tall aging man with hair as white as the purest sugar and matched with a lengthy beard. The smile on his lips never seemed to fade and gave his periwinkle blue eyes a decidedly jovial twinkle.

"I have trusted you year in and year out with the same results, Dumbledore, and I am growing tired. Tired of waiting for someone we will never find. Tired of having my hopes dashed and my dreams crushed." the younger man sighed, turning away from his guest to look out a nearby window-not that he could see anything. It was as dark outside the room as it was inside it, the stars had long since lost their glitter and the moon was nothing more then a shadow of it's previous glory.

The world was dying along with it's prince.

"They are out there, highness, do not give up faith. We will find them."

"Do not lie, old man." The prince snapped, tired of listening to the same promises as last year, "We do not know where to even begin searching, if we did we would have found them by now. I'm done, I cannot stand another year of this pain."

The wizards light went out and a hand settled onto the boy's shoulder, "do not be too distressed my boy. Give me one last chance. I will not fail you."

Defeated silver eyes met blue, "See that you don't."



Harry sat silently in the backseat of the Dursley family car; trying his best to ignore the rest of his family. It was an almost impossible task since he was squished uncomfortably to the door because his cousin took up an alarming portion of the seat.

The Dursleys had been invited to a party at his uncle's work that year, and his obese guardian couldn't 't pass up a chance to grovel to his superiors. Unfortunately, Harry's aunt had put up such a fuss over the idea of Harry remaining home alone that his uncle had been forced to allow the boy along.

Harry would have much rather remained behind, but his uncle was almost a head taller then him and close to four times as wide. Harry didn't stand a chance against the giant and so hadn't put up much of a fight.

Bottle green eyes stared though the distorted rain-soaked glass at the dark landscape beyond. He could feel the cold air seeping through the window into the cheek he had pressed intimately into the cool surface.

Orange street lamps blinked passed and Harry idly kept count.

His life was so boring.

Two hundred streetlamps later and the Dursleys were pulling into a well lit parking lot and sliding between two fancy black vehicles...literally.

Once the squealing of tires on wet concrete had stopped and the engine had been turned off Harry cautiously opened his door...or at least he tried to open his door.

Vernon had parked at an angle which allowed Harry's aunt room to get out, but left the boy with a measly six inches to squeeze passed.

Sloshing through the small rivers that had formed with the sudden downpour Harry trailed behind his so called family.

Entering the building Harry felt like such a pauper. The event was a formal one, but Harry had never owned a nice set of clothes, much less a suit that would match all the stuffed shirts crowding the room.

More then one pair of eyes scraped over his baggy grey clothing and mop of black hair with a sneer twisting their lips.

Hey, it wasn't his fault his aunt and uncle refused to waste money on dressing their ragtag nephew. He was lucky to get Dudley's cast offs.

Harry's family proceeded to ignore him, which was fine with him...until one of the fancy men chatting with some of his colleagues politely excused himself and headed in Harry's direction. Harry tried to avoid him, but the man was having none of that. "Excuse me young man," He said, snatching Harry's arm before his could get lost in the crowd (not that it would be too difficult to locate him among all the high class characters, but really Harry wasn't below trying) "This is a private party, I will have to ask you to leave."

"But-" Harry tried to explain, but the man was already hauling him towards the exit-and the pouring rain.

Without any care the man shoved Harry out the door, propelling him into the storm. Harry stumbled from the force of the shove, crashing into one of the cars parked feet from the entrance. Harry tried to regain his balance, but it was no use and he slammed into the gravel lightly covering the parking lot.

Hissing at the sting in his knees and hands, Harry gingerly picked himself up and crawled closer to one of the vehicles. His pants were now ripped at the knees and his flesh was scrapped pretty badly, the rain washing away any blood that attempted to seep out.

Sighing Harry set about removing debris from his palms, but before he could get very far a figure blocked the meager light from the streetlamps. Freezing for a moment Harry turned his face toward the interloper, his eyes traveling up, and up, and up...this man was even more of a giant than his uncle. But he looked infinitely kinder, with sparkling cornflower blue eyes with snow white hair and a long matching beard. He was wearing the strangest clothes Harry had ever seen, covered by a purple cloak with stars dancing across it.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked uncertainly, not sure exactly what this kind looking man could possibly be doing there. His clothes did look expensive, but they were so outlandish that Harry doubted he was there for the party.

"The question is not what you can do for me, my boy" the man spoke, "But what I can do for you."

Harry wasn't sure exactly what that meant, and decided that the man must be a bit barmy. Deciding not to worry about it, Harry went back to picking out the dirt from his pulverized hands.

A movement from the man was all the warning Harry had before the elderly person was crouched in front of him and taken Harry's hand in one of his. Harry marveled at how soft the man's skin was and how smooth it was despite his obvious age. Shouldn't he have had some sort of wrinkles? The man looked to be approaching a hundred.

His mind was brought back to his hands when they started to burn something fierce. Moaning in distress, Harry tried to pull his hand back, but the stranger paid no attention to him as he inspected the wound.

The man was mumbling something under his breath, but Harry couldn't make out what he was saying. That wasn't really important anyway, the dirt disappearing from his injuries and the flesh seeming to mend back together was.

Wide green eyes flashed to the man's face, a gasp getting caught in his throat. "Who are you?" He demanded on a whisper, not exactly sure he wanted to know.

Twinkling blue eyes rose to meet his, a smile curving his lips under the thick beard. "You may call me Dumbledore." He answered simply.

"How did you do that?" He asked, his eyes fixed on his hands again, running trembling fingers across the newly mended flesh.

Nothing. Not a hint of pain, or any signs of a scar.

"I wouldn't concern yourself to much with that, why don't we discuss what I originally came here for."

Harry narrowed his eyes before looking back at Dumbledore, He wasn't thrilled with that answer, but he hadn't much choice in the matter. "Fine, what exactly did you want."

The man smiled again, and it was a nice smile. One Harry would have expected a doting grandfather would bestow upon his grandchildren. Harry really wouldn't know that, because he'd never had a grandfather in his life; but it was a nice thought.

"I've actually been looking for you for a very long time, my boy, you are a very difficult soul to locate I hope you know." The twinkling in his light blue eyes seemed to increase with those words. That didn't really tell Harry anything though, and he told the old man just that. "Of course, of course." A low chuckle filled the air, "You are a very special boy, and the only one that can save my world." Harry was doubtful of that, he really wasn't anything special. He was a freak in fact, and was reminded of it on a daily basis-just so he wouldn't forget.

A hand brushing through his endlessly messy hair came as such a surprise that he felt his jaw drop. "You won't always be so alone, don't ever give up hope."

The man smiled one more time before standing, "Oh, and Harry?, Happy birthday." With that he was gone. Literally.

It wasn't until he was alone again that he realized that somehow, while the strange old man had been with him he hadn't felt one drop of rain. Alone again, the storm had come crashing back down, drenching him all over again in a matter of seconds.

The rain wasn't the only thing Dumbledore had left, settled snugly against Harry's soaked thighs was a small porcelain doll.

Harry was filled with questions, the first of which were 'how had he known Harry's name' and 'how had he known it was his birthday'.

He doubted he'd ever find the answers, just as he doubted he'd ever see the senile old man again.