KALEIDOSCOPE OF MAGIC
Chilling wind blew through Azkaban, bringing unbearable cold to the inmates and jailors. It did not matter, though.
The Jailors of the Wizard prison thrived in the cold, and most of the inmates were too far gone to notice the weather.
But not all of them.
In a dank cell in one of the prisons near the basement, lay a nearly fourteen year old boy shivering as the Dementors prowled outside his cell.
This was the worst place for Harry Potter, who had nothing but misery in his life. He shivered even more, feeling an odd stinging in his eyes.
And he dreamt, of the past and his memories.
He lay in his hospital bed, triumphant after rescuing Sirius. His godfather was free! He gave Hermione an elated look, which she returned happily.
He couldn't believe that their audacity had actually borne fruit. Riding a hippogriff to rescue Sirius? He was a magnet for the strangest occurrences, not to mention trouble.
The doors of the Hospital wing suddenly slammed open, revealing Snape, Dumbledore, and the minister himself.
Harry mentally cringed as he spied the utter fury on Snape's face. The greasy haired potions professor walked up to him and shook him awake, hard.
"OUT WITH IT POTTER! IT WAS YOU! I KNOW IT WAS YOU! WHAT DID YOU DO?" he roared causing Madam Pomfrey to come barrelling into the ward.
"QUIET, WOMAN!" shouted Snape, not even looking at the matron. He stared directly at Harry and shook him hard.
"I know you helped Black escape, potter. You and your filthy friends. Now tell me. What. Did. You. Do?" he asked icily.
Dumbledore and Fudge came up to the infuriated Potions Master, the latter looking at the greasy haired man as if he were unhinged.
"Severus, calm down. Indeed we need the truth from these children. It is a matter of alarm that Black escaped once more, that too from Hogwarts containment. Cornelius, do I have your approval for the administration of Veritaserum?"
Hermione shot up from her bed, horror written upon her face. They were going to administer Veritaserum, to a minor? What was Dumbledore doing? If Harry swallowed that potion, he would implicate them all!
"Professor Dumbledore, you cannot! Veritaserum cannot be administered to minors without the approval of…" she trailed off, looking at Fudge with fear.
Dumbledore shot a sad look at the betrayed Hermione, before turning back to Snape, who seemed to have mixed emotions in him. The potions master showed a considerable amount of happiness and…was that regret?
Harry sat stunned through these proceedings. What was Dumbledore up to? He could hardly think! Ron was as usual, asleep.
"Cornelius, can you please get us Amelia? Severus, get the potion. I will stay here."
The two nodded, Snape staring at Dumbledore a moment longer before leaving, his cloak billowing around him.
Dumbledore dismissed Pomfrey, and turned back to the trio. He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry, who could not move. Hermione was watching with wide eyes.
"Supprimere et memoriam horum!"
Harry glowed gold, and he felt woozy. He suddenly felt something wrong with his mind. There was something in with him in his head…restraining, guarding.
"Quiesco" murmured Dumbledore, raising his wand at Hermione who promptly fell asleep. Her breathing became relaxed.
"Professor, what are you doing?" asked Harry, who could not hide his extreme anxiety.
Dumbledore looked him in the eyes, causing Harry to gasp. The Headmaster showed emotions Harry had never seen before in the man.
Fear, self-loathing, regret all mixed into something reprehensible. It was causing Harry's fear to rise.
"Harry, remember this carefully. I always endeavour to help you. I am doing this for you, to protect you. Follow my lead, and do not interrupt."
Harry only stared dumbly.
The minister for Magic came with a stately-looking yet stern woman. Snape came back with a bottle of clear liquid.
"Get on with it, Dumbledore" said the woman, looking at Harry sharply.
Snape walked to Harry, and roughly tipped the liquid in his mouth. The woman came up to stand in front of him.
Harry felt as if he was floating in the clouds, felt blank and obedient and as if he, the entirety of Harry Potter was on display for the world to see. But the force, the thing Dumbledore had put in his mind was still there.
"Is your name Harry Potter?"
"Tell us what happened yesterday with Black."
Harry woke up, the pain in his eyes getting too much. The horrible effect of the Dementors was taking its toll on him. He could not even summon anger for what Dumbledore had done to him.
He could not even feel sadness as he remembered his friends, who cried that he was innocent. Hermione and Ron had yelled and screamed, shouting his innocence to the minister to no avail.
Harry could feel the Dementors gathering outside his cell, and their coldness washed over him. The moment he felt even a shred of emotion return, they gathered around to lap it up like starved dogs.
Harry Potter was broken. Broken beyond recognition. He could feel whatever love he had for his friends leaving.
He was cold, both in body and mind. Cold and empty.
The pain in his eyes was now becoming unbearable. It felt as if they were being gouged out, burned from the inside.
The Dementors were all gathering outside his cell door. Harry could not stand the effect of so many Dementors together and the pain of his eyes.
Inexplicably, it happened.
He felt it returning. His anger, his hatred. More than he could have ever imagined. More than the malice even his scar exuded.
His scar pulsed painfully, throbbing in beat with his eyes. His brain felt like it was on fire.
The hatred in him grew, as he remembered how Dumbledore and Fudge had just chucked him into prison, no trial. Nothing.
It was as if they had wanted him there. The magic ran through his body like magma through a volcano.
His scar felt like someone had branded him where it lay. He could dimly feel something drifting out of his scar.
They had asked no one, told no one. Not even the other Hogwarts staff or the media. They had termed it a secret incarceration, and just thrown him in. Hermione and Ron were sworn to secrecy, he did not know how.
Men in black robes and hoods had taken him, and thrown him in this cell.
Pure clear hatred. That was what filled him to the brim, and the Dementors could not consume it. It was as if someone had lit a bright fire in him, a conflagration before which the Dementors' effects just paled.
Fire exploded from the young Potter as he screamed, turning the meagre furniture in the cell into ashes. The Dementors began to screech outside, unable to stand the fire that filled the cell completely.
Harry began to lose consciousness, the world blacking out. He felt his eyes throb one last time, the pain in them receding mercifully.
He fell down hard, fully unconscious.
It was clear.
The world was clear. So clear. He could see the individual dust particles floating in the wind, the texture of the burnt prison cell. He could see.
He could see….everything.
Azkaban. That was where he was. As he remembered how he got here, he felt no raging hatred and unbalancing sadness.
He felt cold and in control, like he could see himself the way he now saw the world. His hatred felt like a sharp blade, not a raging fire. His mind felt fluid and clear. Something was different.
He could not feel the Dementors. Oh, he felt them crowding around as usual, but he did not accept the misery they forced upon him.
It was like he could cast that away. Something was different with his eyes.
And his body. He could feel the magic running through it like a torrent. It was the same feeling he had gotten when he had cast the Patronus to drive one hundred Dementors away.
But now he had the feeling without his wand. The doors of his cell banged open, and a dozen Dementors flooded in.
He stared at them and saw the black voids that they were. He could see the foreign magic that flowed through their body, and he saw through their despair to what made their very fabric. Their despair did not affect him, he could see through it.
"You look ridiculous", he said.
The Dementor nearest to him floated and lowered its head.
Harry felt no alarm, it was only a fact registered. He had to drive them out or get his soul sucked.
He raised his pale and thin hand, palm outwards.
White light exploded out of his palm, drenching the Dementors. They screeched in unison and fled out of the room back to the bleakness of Azkaban , shrieking in agony.
Intriguing. I do not need a wand anymore…as if my body itself embodies my magic. But I feel tired. Very much so. The Patronus, it felt different. I did not need happiness to create it anymore, only intent.
Harry sat down tiredly on the floor, considering. Too many things had happened too fast. He looked down at his body, seeing properly for the first time the abhorrent state of his body.
He was basically a stick. Pale and sickly, and dirty. But the magic was there.
He stared around the room, and removed his glasses. Perfect. His vision was perfect.
He doubted even a hawk could see better than he did now. It was as if a switch had been thrown in his brain, giving him this preternatural clarity and sense.
The way he now thought stunned him. Dumbledore and fudge were not relevant until he got out of here, and it should not be as a fugitive. He had no intention of living a life like Sirius.
His mind went back to when Dumbledore and Fudge saw him off at the gates of Azkaban.
"Harry, I know you hate me. Understand, the law is to be followed and cannot be broken for anybody. Not even you. This is your punishment."
Dumbledore had a small tear flowing down his face.
"I thought you did not throw minors into Azkaban, Fudge?" Harry asked in a dead voice.
Fudge looked as if he had aged a hundred years. Then he suddenly seemed to bloat up in anger.
"I am the minister of Magic, boy! You need to be taught a little lesson. You will stay in Azkaban till the next school term. Happy summer break, Potter! Take him away!"
Dementors came and dragged away a defeated Harry Potter.
As Harry looked back, he saw Dumbledore freely shedding tears, and Fudge looked like he was about to.
Their actions against him were forced, he mused. They had chucked him into prison for a reason, and knew it was not for aiding and abetting Sirius.
Dumbledore had suppressed his own involvement in the affair by making it seem as if it was all Harry's idea. He could not utter Dumbledore's involvement even after drinking the Veritaserum.
Why was he here only for the summer? That seemed odd. Eight weeks of wrongful imprisonment? Why would they do that, even if they knew that once he was out, they would be implicated?
He laid himself on the floor, looking at the ceiling. Azkaban was a dreary place.
But it was no longer horrifying and cold. Not to him. The Dementors did not affect him anymore for some reason, and it had to do with his eyes. They felt powerful, as if the magic that his body now contained emanated from them.
Something had changed his eyes. If only he had a mirror. Too bad he did not know conjuration yet.
He sat back up, and began thinking. He had four more weeks in this place. Then…then he would take care of everything.
"It has happened, Albus. He has awakened them. Should we get him out?", asked a hooded man who had just gotten out of the floo.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk in his beautiful office, looking at the man pensively.
"We have four more weeks. Describe his eyes, now!"
The man looked at the headmaster, his face a study in wonder.
"Albus, his eyes are no longer emerald like his mother but they are black. Shining coal black. And when he channels magic to them…"
Albus beckoned the man to continue, a desperate look upon his face.
"They turn red. A blazing red with single commas in them. Why doesn't he have all three…that is how it should be!"
Dumbledore felt relieved beyond measure. Harry had done it. He had done it at last.
"In Azkaban, there is enough misery to accelerate its maturing. To awaken those legendary eyes after so many centuries…"
"Albus, you do not understand. He has magic running through his very veins, and can use it wandlessly. The Dementors have little effect on him, now. We have to do it…"
Dumbledore looked as if he had aged another hundred years, the pain was apparent in his face.
"I suppose…I suppose it cannot be helped. He is the one. Alert the Department, Bode. They have my authorization. And it is time to recall them…", he said meaningfully.
"It will be done, Albus. How do you intend to explain yourself to Potter?"
Albus Dumbledore stood and walked to the window.
"I will tell him the truth. He would never forgive me, Bode. But he won't turn out like Tom. Sometimes I wonder, if I am the monster for taking away so much from Harry and causing him such pain, if I am just another Tom Riddle…"
Bode nodded again. They were monsters indeed, Albus and the department. But if that was what they needed to be to save magical Britain, then so be it.
Harry stood in his cell. Today was the day. He felt pure.
He owed Dumbledore pain. The way those hooded men had tortured him…He had gained a pain tolerance that was alarming. He had learned to look through the pain, to disregard it at will.
It was after the day he had driven out the Dementors with no wand. They had slipped a tray of food in, and he had eaten readily.
And promptly fell asleep.
When next he woke, it was in a dark cell. He had found that if he stopped channelling magic to his eyes, his extreme perception and immunity to Dementors would lessen considerably.
He was shackled, and felt a wand tip at his forehead. He could still use magic, but it was of no use. It was only a trickle.
He activated his eyes again, trying to look through the darkness. He could see a tall man open his mouth, and he could see the bright strands of magic that poured out of the wand tip at his forehead.
Harry screamed and screamed, trying to break out of his shackles. White hot knives tearing at his body, his mind pierced by a thousand poisoned needles…he felt it all.
He screamed until his throat was sore, then screamed even more. The pain was all consuming, absolute.
The pain suddenly stopped, and Harry looked up dimly from his shackled position. He was hurting…everywhere. He cursed his parents for bringing him into this world.
He saw his torturer raise his wand, and he could observe the minute changes in his body language. The man was clearly not used to this. His eyes could pick out every fluctuation in his emotions through his actions.
The wand pointed at him again.
The world went red once more, and he resumed his screaming.
They had tortured him two hours a day, until he could clearly see how the strands of magic were molded. He could see how the curse effected him, and he tried to use his own magic to lessen its coherence.
He had managed to bring down the pain he felt by corrupting the magic of the curse with his own.
After torturing him with curses for about fifteen days, they threw him into a room where five hooded figures beat him physically.
The first five days, he was a mess of broken bones and bloodied but he was always healed by them for the next day.
He stopped caring about his situation. His mind gained only one prerogative.
React and survive. Never trust. The notion was burned in his brain. Never ever would he trust or assume again.
The eighth day of his beatings, it was different.
He could clearly see how the magic flowed through each person, and how they moved. He could copy the way they moved, and predict their moves by the minute tensions in their muscles.
They had pounced on him seeking to beat him down again, but it was in vain. Their moves were obvious.
Their punches were dodged and they attacked him swiftly. He could tell these were professionals, highly trained. They attacked with elegance and grace, and he copied their grace and movements, adapting at the speed of lightning.
Those five were paralyzed or dead. He had broken every single bone in their limbs and damaged their spines with the precision of a surgeon.
The tortures had stopped after that. It was then he knew. His eyes were more powerful than should be possible. With them, he had no need for a wand.
He had been forged into something…he did not know what. It had occurred to him that conspicuously after every torture session, his perception with his eyes had grown clearer.
Now, it was unbelievable. To see everything and understand it rapidly, to copy it.
His mind had made the connections fast, and he had long since concluded that this summer's imprisonment had to do with him awakening his eyes.
Along with his eyes came a state of mind he had felt only twice.
Once, when he had fought to death against Quirrell and once when he faced the Basilisk.
It was raging instinct and absolute control at the same time. He was the master of his emotions, not the other way around.
The doors to his cell opened.
"Harry Potter, inmate number 300. You have served your sentence diligently and are now about to be freed. Sign this paper, and accompany us to the edge of the Island. There will be someone to collect you."
Oh. It was his final day of imprisonment. Odd, he found that he did not care anymore. He was not peaceful, but cold and hard.
But most of all he felt clarity. His imprisonment had taught him one thing. He was weak. Weak beyond measure. He was disgusted by his former self, how he used to be. Lazy, procrastinating…and a slave to his own whims and desires.
Pathetic. Anyway, he signed the document stating his freedom and walked with the man, leaving his cell once and for all. He would burn the world to ashes before he returned here.
The man led him through the melancholy corridors of Azkaban, before stopping at a door. He turned to him.
"Before you go, , know that I am sorry what you have endured here. This is no place for children, no matter their crime. You have my sincerest apologies."
Harry nodded to him. Truly, he felt no malice for this place. Except for the certain knowledge that he would burn it.
It had turned him into someone unique. He saw the uselessness of unnecessary emotion. Do not feel emotion, only use it.
He opened the door and walked through it. Waiting in front of him were the two people responsible, Dumbledore and Fudge. They only looked at him, obviously unable to speak.
Harry had changed too much from his short imprisonment. The boy who was once short, had grown several inches taller. His hair had lengthened and he now sported a mane of black hair that fell down to his shoulders.
But Dumbledore was struck to the core by the boy's eyes. True, they were black naturally now, not the emerald green. But they gave away nothing, no emotions or fluctuation.
It was as if his mind was a void. That was all his Legilimency picked up. He could penetrate further, but he did not.
"Hello, Professor. Minister. I liked my accommodations and entertainment for this summer. I will make sure you enjoy the same, someday. You have my word on that", smiled Harry.
Dumbledore grimaced, as did Fudge. They did not know what the department had done to accelerate the process, and they did not want to know.
All Dumbledore could do was explain completely, and hope that Harry would understand. Oh, he did not expect forgiveness.
He did not deserve it. None of them did. But they would save their people at any cost, even one as high as this.
"Harry. As you have no doubt deduced, you were thrown in here for a reason. It is not on record. Except for your friends and some select people, the world thinks you were in Privet Drive. Allow me to explain why this was done to you, and then you can do what you wish to me. I daresay I have earned it."
Harry was still smiling. Amusing. The old traitor obviously had some more lies to tell him.
No matter. He was hardly strong enough to take on Dumbledore and Fudge. Not yet. But he would be.
"Let's go, Professor."
Dumbledore nodded, and grasped his arm causing them to disapparate. Fudge looked on sadly.
He cursed the day he had taken this job, and he cursed the Department for concocting this plan and disapparated.
The headmaster's office was the same as usual.
Harry looked at Dumbledore. The old man had seated himself in his chair, and looked at Harry.
"Do you hate me?"
Harry considered the question. It may sound stupid, but it was really not. Dumbledore could glean everything important about his state of mind from this conversation.
"No. I do not hate you. But I think you should die painfully, screaming your agony."
Dumbledore flinched at the casual way in which the young boy said those words.
"Would you kill me that way right now? If I allowed you…"
Harry shook his head, and activated his eyes. Dumbledore gasped, and conjured a mirror for Harry's benefit. The boy's eyes widened. Staring back at him were eyes of blazing red, three black commas marking them at equal intervals. The pupils were the normal white.
The prophecies were being fulfilled.
"You are a traitor. The death of people like you should benefit me, not harm me. That, and I can see your magic. It is practically leaking off you, saturating the air. You are too strong for me as of now, traitor.", Harry said calmly.
Dumbledore looked sad as the boy he thought of as a grandson called him traitor. With good reason, of course.
"I will explain everything, Harry. I know the utter pain you have experienced in your life, and it is all down to me. Me and the Department, and some others who you will meet shortly."
Harry looked at the old man in interest. He might be a traitor, but he could be used. No one could fool him anymore with the eyes he possessed.
"Department?" Harry asked.
"The Department of Mysteries. The most secret department in the entire Ministry. I lead it, along with two of my friends. Those eyes you have awakened are special, and they have been awakened only once in recorded history. Their origins are lost in time. They have a name."
"What is their name?" Harry asked. Dumbledore would be useful until Harry got strong enough to kill him. He would extract every drop of knowledge about his eyes, by whatever means necessary.
"Sharingan. One of your ancestors awakened these eyes, Arcturus Potter. He recorded that it was a dormant trait in the potter line, and was a gift of magic itself. Before you hear more of it, I would have you meet some people… people who by all rights should have been with you since your birth."
Harry looked at Dumbledore, his Sharingan picking up minute fluctuations in the man's body language. The headmaster was tense, and anticipatory. He braced himself.
The door opened to reveal two figures, one was quite tall and the other was shorter. Both wore hooded robes.
"Did you bring them?" asked Dumbledore. The two nodded, taking off their hoods.
Harry could not believe it. He concentrated with his eyes, channelling every bit of his magic, hoping beyond hope that this was a joke.
It was not.
Standing in front of him were two people who should by all rights be dead. The male had the same dark mop of hair as him, and hazel eyes. More importantly, he looked like a carbon copy of Harry.
James Potter, his father.
Next to him stood a very beautiful woman with flowing red hair. She had the same emerald eyes he himself used to have.
Lily Potter, mother.
Harry's mind which had become cold as ice during his incarceration now froze even more. Hatred beyond hatred surged through his veins as he picked up the guilt the two figures obviously felt.
They could never hide from his eyes.
"Harry…" said Lily softly. James just watched the scene with mixed emotions along with Dumbledore. Harry could practically smell the stifling guilt in the room.
He hated them all. Oh, how he hated them. He wanted to torture them with that Cruciatus curse till they went insane. The way he nearly went insane due to Dumbledore.
"Do you hate me that much, Dumbledore? You get me abused for ten years, get me imprisoned for eight weeks and then tortured, and after all this reproduce my parents from nothing…"
Lily gasped with James, and looked at Harry with pity in her eyes. James shook his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing…
Harry too cried. Not normal tears, no. He cried tears of blood. Great fat tears of the red liquid rolled down his cheeks and his magic exploded.
"It's happening, Dumbledore! They are changing! We need to do it now!" shouted James.
"Yes, wait for it James. He is still conscious…"
They watched as Harry's Sharingan changed to a new shape. Three small circles with arcs connecting them in a triangular shape now sat in the centre of his red pupils.
Harry fell unconscious; the last thing he saw was James taking out a sealed cylindrical jar of liquid, and Lily and Dumbledore drawing their wands.
Oddly enough, the jar contained two eyeballs in them.
Harry woke up to the soft feel of the hospital wing's fluffy pillows. He felt…great. He opened his eyes, but found he could not see beyond the white cloth that blindfolded him.
His eyes felt strong, so much stronger than before that it was like comparing a pebble to a mountain. He doubted he would even understand their potential.
Curiosity overwhelmed him. Why were his eyes so special? Dumbledore had said-
His rage exploded, causing the scrap of cloth to fall off burning with black flames. It did not extinguish till ashes.
The door opened violently, letting in the three figures he hated more than Voldemort himself. Lily potter rushed to him, and took his head in her palms.
Harry stared into his mother's eyes with an anger that was so pure that she flinched violently. Images flashed through his mind of how he wanted them all to die screaming at his hands, rip them apart, souls eaten, bones broken, tear asunder…
Lily was unable to look away from her son's eyes. Then she screamed, loosing every bit of air in her lungs. She screamed as she saw in her mind what Harry wanted to do to them…to his own parents. But that was nothing compared to Dumbledore's imagined fate…
Dumbledore immediately cast a silencing charm.
"Those eyes! It is those eyes. James, get her to break eye contact, now!"
James pulled the screaming Lily away, all the time looking regretfully at Harry. Lily stopped screaming, and started retching in the sink nearby.
Harry stared at them all, gaining a new epiphany. He did not care for their reasons. They were alive all this time, and had let him suffer to an extent no one should. He did not hate them, he realized. He would not waste emotion on them. No. He wanted to hurt them. And he could not do that like this. He calmed his anger from a raging inferno to a sharp crystal knife.
He would laugh while they burned.
Lily stared at him, avoiding his eyes studiously. His perception had increased a hundredfold…he could see even the individual pores on their skin, see it breathing.
He could predict their actions to such a scale that it would seem like he could read the future. And he could see the magic permeating the air, and the people…to its lowest detail.
It was beautiful. The castle was a hue of multiple shining colours. His so called parents were not as strong as Dumbledore, who practically oozed magic, but they were still very strong.
But these eyes he had now…
He got up slowly, walking to the mirror at his bedside. His eyes had changed…changed from the three-comma Sharingan to a Sharingan of a complex shape.
It had a triangle-like shape, with arcs as sides and small circles as vertices. The circles were connected to the circumference of his pupil by lines.
He felt them, and knew that to master these eyes would take a long time. He could feel their potential and the unfathomable depth of their power.
His own body's magic had increased considerably. He felt he could control it a lot better, and his reserves were also increased by a good amount.
Oh, he had forgotten his traitorous kin. Turning back to the three people he said,
Dumbledore came up to Harry, his wise old face showing infinite remorse.
"Your trials are at an end, Harry. The department will bother you no longer, except to help you in mastering those eyes of yours-"
Harry had enough. He had no wish to hear these people's voices, unless they screamed in agony.
"QUIET! I said explain!" Harry said coldly, causing the magic of the room to vibrate.
"Better, I can show you. Look into this basin, Harry. It is called a penseive. It contains past memories. You will understand after this…"
"Hmm…Dumbledore, you disgust me. Why should I trust you, you filthy traitor? Or those pathetic dregs who call themselves my parents?"
Dumbledore looked pained as he raised his wand. Lily and James looked like they had been stabbed in the gut.
"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear in front of these witnesses and magic itself that I hold no ill will for Harry potter and that my actions were intended to help him. The Pensieve is trustworthy. So mote it be!"
Golden light settled around Dumbledore, and Harry's parents also made the same oath. Harry could see the magic of their oaths binding them tightly.
"Now will you look? I promise you will understand my actions and those of your parents'. Please Harry…"
Harry stopped channelling magic into his eyes, and felt it return back to its black. He knelt over and looked into the Pensieve.
Suddenly, he was standing in a large oval room with three people in them. Dumbledore had said they were memories only…
"Lily, James…my congratulations to you. I hear you will have a child."
A much younger and happier Lily looked at the man who spoke. He looked hale and young, but his eyes spoke of experience and wisdom.
"Yes, we will have a boy, Croaker. A boy! Isabelle will have a brother!" she said, a smile lighting her face.
James encircled her with a one armed hug.
"I am so happy for you, Lily and James. So happy indeed…" said the old man, whom Lily had called Croaker. He had a disconcerting look of contemplation on his face.
The scene dissolved, forming a new environment. It was a new memory.
James stood over Lily's bed, his wife holding a baby in her arms. Harry recognized Sirius, Professor Lupin and Peter Pettigrew looking with wonder at the infants.
"Hello, Hawwy ! I am your sister, Isabelle!", said a tiny girl with blonde hair. She was cute.
Dumbledore appeared with a soft crack, looking happily at the infants. It was a family of utter love and happiness.
Harry teared up despite himself, he had an older sister? All this time…his heart was breaking as he saw a life he was denied.
"Lily, James. Voldemort has ears everywhere, and has heard the prophecy. Move into Hogwarts with the children, immediately!"
The entire posse disappeared with expert apparition.
The scene reformed into a new memory once more.
Lily and James stood opposite Dumbledore with Sirius and Remus. Dumbledore pointed his hand at the Pensieve and a figure rose out of it…an unpleasantly familiar figure with large round glasses, looking like a beetle.
Sybill Trelawney's spectre started reciting,
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark lord approaches…Born when the seventh month dies…Born to those who have thrice defied him…The dark lord will mark him as his equal…But he shall have the power the Dark Lord knows not… Eyes of power and perception, through misery re-awakened…Eternal and unsurpassed, born through love destroyed…Born again to drive the darkness away…"
Dumbledore looked at the horrified parents with a sombre look.
"You know of the Arcturus legend, James. You know of the lost eyes. It was awakened only once in known history and evolved once. If your son can awaken it as well…then we can transplant the eyes of Arcturus left in the Potter vault on to him. We know that the blindness would not take him, then. Eternal and unsurpassed…"
James looked at Dumbledore with a horrified expression, Lily and the others looked desperately puzzled.
"What do you mean…how can we make him experience misery…our own son? Do you know what it is you are asking?"
Croaker appeared behind them. Dumbledore must have given him access.
"Lily, James…Britain is falling. Voldemort knows of the prophecy. Me and Albus, we think you should leave England immediately as Voldemort will attack you any time now…please!"
"We cannot! Harry and Isabelle are too young to be on the run…they will be in danger!"
"Which is why you will be leaving Harry in the Department's care…we will see to it that he will awaken those eyes…"
There was absolute silence in the office as the group contemplated the horrifying notion.
"How can you suggest us leaving our own baby son…to misery? Where would we go, anyway?" she asked coldly.
"Our French division. You will begin to hypothesize the contents of the Arcturus tablet, James. It has to be done…Voldemort will come after you no matter what. So, save what you can…and leave little Harry to us. We know too well not to disregard prophecy…" Croaker said calmly.
"What will happen to Harry?" asked James, thinking deeply.
"We will let him live with Department operatives polyjuiced as you. But you must leave immediately and take Isabelle with you. Our French operatives will take you with them via Portkey once you have…said your goodbyes."
Sirius and Remus looked as if they could not believe what was happening. James looked like he wanted to break something.
But Lily, Lily had a look of resolve on her face.
"Do you swear, Croaker, by everything you hold dear that my son will be protected by the department no matter the cost. That Voldemort will not touch him? That we will be reunited once it is safe again?"
Croaker and Dumbledore raised their wands.
"We so swear", a brilliant tongue of fire erupted from their wand tips binding all the occupants of the room together.
Harry was suddenly expelled out of the Pensieve his mind processing the memories and their implications fast.
He turned to James and Lily.
"Who were the operatives, then, who gave their lives for me when Voldemort attacked? I want their names."
"We do not know, s-Harry. They were deep undercover. I am so sorry…we both are…more than words can say, but we were the ones who deciphered the information about the eyes you currently possess.", James said to Harry as if that would assuage him.
Harry's eyes morphed to their evolved form and the magic in the air began rising once more.
"So…you were the ones responsible for my torture and incarceration at Azkaban?"
Lily gasped and started sobbing quietly, and James rounded on Dumbledore. But Harry scoffed.
"Save your act, James Potter. I know you feel extreme guilt for my suffering…but I can see clearly that you had something to do with the torture. It wasn't your idea, was it?"
James went pale, and then knelt in front of Harry and looked him in the eye.
"I forgot…you do not just have a Mangekyou Sharingan. Your eyes became eternal after the transplant of our ancestor's eyes. Harry…the only way you could be safe was to get the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. We feel, Harry, that your misery is worth the long life you will have…how can you be happy when you are dead? Thus, your life was the priority."
Harry looked at him, his eyes still not changing from their eternal state.
"You speak the truth. If only you knew the misery I went through…but you would know, wouldn't you?"
Lily knelt with James, facing their son. Their grown up son. The son who had awakened the legendary eyes in their ultimate form, albeit with help.
"Harry,. My baby…we are so sorry. I-I know we can never atone for your suffering…but please let us try. Please" asked Lily with her heart in her eyes.
Harry considered. There were too many details left out of their explanation. Casting them away in a fit of childish anger would be casting away an important resource.
The old him would have done that. But now…things were different. He would use and throw them away if necessary.
"What of that girl, Isabelle?" he asked coldly.
Lily looked pained.
"Harry, she is enrolled in Beauxbatons and she is currently sixteen. You can see her soon; she will be here at Hogwarts this year. She doesn't know of you, though...it...would be too painful…"
Lily and James saw immediately that this was the wrong thing to say to Harry.
Harry scoffed. They were no longer family to him. Family, no matter what the reason, did not abandon their only son to misery.
"I have no wish to see her. I have no wish to see you, either, except when I deem it fit. You sacrificed my childhood for reasons you think are acceptable. I will do the same with my filial bonds, Potter." Harry said coldly, watching his parents' faces crumble as he chose his hurtful words.
Let them hurt. In fact, they should hurt as much as possible and then more. He turned to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, however, deserved to burn.
"Professor Dumbledore, I know we have a little more than a week till term starts again. I would like to stay with the Weasley family till that time. And find out the names of the couple that sacrificed themselves for me. I want those names. Can I floo to the Weasleys'?"
Dumbledore, who looked sad beyond words, nodded.
Harry made to move towards the fireplace but James laid a hand on his shoulder. His…parents…were shedding tears freely at the tragic reunion.
"Harry…I know you hate us more than you can say…we deserve it and more. But please take this. It is the reason you are…our family is in such a state. It is the compilation of my entire research on the Sharingan…and the partial contents of the Arcturus tablet. Please read it, it will help you master those eyes eventually."
Harry took the thick volume, bound in white skin.
"Goodbye, Dumbledore. Potters."
Saying that, Harry disappeared with a burst of green fire through the fireplace, the last thing he saw was the utter misery on the faces of his parents.
Like he cared. He needed no one, now. His life had taught him that well. He had his eyes and his magic, running through him like a blazing fire.
He would never trust again, he thought, as he gracefully stepped out of the Weasley fireplace surprising himself. Trust was suffering.
He saw Molly Weasley look at him with absolute dismay, but no surprise. It seemed they were expecting him.
"Harry, you look so thin and pale! What have those muggles been doing to you? And that hair like Bill's…"she began ranting her displeasure at the muggles' mistreatment of Hrry.
If only she knew.
The stairs echoed with the sound of multiple people flying down them. The family was here, thought Harry sardonically.
Never trust. Never.
Thank you for reading the story. I assure you it has only begun. There will be no Naruto crossover, only concepts that are borrowed from that awesome anime.
The story will be set purely in the HP world. And it is not your typical bashing story. It is a story of a bitter world, tough decisions and the misery they could engender. Not everything is in black and white, after all.
Stay tuned for more chapters, I will update as fast as possible.
Thank you again, for reading!