Through the Looking Glass 2 - LVHP
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Hey all, thanks for reviewing the last chapter. I hope you continue to like it! Thanks to Star_Faerie for beta-ing this! I’m still 11,091 words short for my thesis. Maybe I should go do that instead?
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Words: 3,638
Chapter 2
31st July 1981.
With the death of Neville Longbottom, Lily had allowed herself one horrible moment of relief, for if Voldemort went after the Longbottom’s child then he wouldn’t come after hers.
But soon, she had realized she was wrong, and the guilt had set in. She had cried desperately for days while rocking her precious twins and wishing she could go to Neville’s funeral. But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been safe. Albus Dumbledore had insisted that Lord Voldemort was after Harry, or Tarrant; they weren’t really sure, but he was definitely after one of her babies. The only way to protect them all was to go into hiding. And so, on the fourth of August of last year Lily, James and their children had flooed from Hogwarts and straight to a small cottage owned by the Potter family in Godric’s Hollow. It was a small mixed community in Wales, with a few magical folk and a handful of Muggles living together while keeping the Secret a secret. The crime rate was very low, and the people were friendly but kept their distance, and Dumbledore had once lived there himself. He had deemed it the perfect place to go into hiding.
They had remained there for almost a year now, living comfortably in the cottage they never stepped foot outside of. Sirius was their Secret keeper, the only one who knew where they were apart from Albus. The man himself appeared in the floo, just as the clock chimed midnight, and Lily was the first one out of her seat and in his arms. She hugged him tightly; her face pressed to his beard as she whispered, “It’s so good to see you!”
“And you as well, my dear girl.” Albus greeted her warmly, and then turned to her husband, “Ah hello James, good to see you as well. And oh my! Look how they’ve grown!” Tarrant was sitting on his bum, just at James’ feet. James had stood up as Albus appeared, and he leant down now to scoop his youngest son into his arms. The baby was only two minutes younger than Harry, but fortunately for him that meant that his birthday was actually August 1st, while Harry’s literally was ‘as the seventh month dies’, July 31st.
“Happy birthday, my boy,” Albus said holding out a small gift. Tarrant reached for it, fingers making grabbing motions and mouth grinning, and Albus gasped, shocked and dismayed, as magic lanced up his arm as the child touched him.
“Are you ok?” Lily asked, “Sorry! He’s been trying to tickle people with magic lately, mostly Harry though, although Harry had managed it better so that’s probably where Tarrant is learning it from.”
He hadn’t been tickled, and it wasn’t even like he had been given a small shock. What that child had done to him, even accidentally, felt like a rush of Dark magic, something cold and cruel running down his spine, and Albus hadn’t experienced something like it in many years. Not since Grindelwald had left him.
“It’s alright, Lily,” Albus whispered to her, because what else could he say? He could hardly tell her that touching Tarrant was like shaking the young Tom Riddle’s hand; uncomfortable and chilling.
There was a tense silence. James bounced Tarrant in his arms shifting back down onto the sofa so he could balance the child and help him open his present from Albus. Dumbledore looked around, smiling at the family photographs that decorated the walls and mantelpiece. They were truly beautiful children, but Tom had been a beautiful child too, so innocent looking and yet so deadly beneath it all. Perhaps, Albus prayed, Tom would choose the wrong child and mark Tarrant as his equal despite the wrong birthdate, and then there couldn’t possibly be two Dark Lords. Lord Voldemort could never accept the Saviour as his ally, it was too much of an impossibility, too much of an improbability to begin with that Voldemort might share power with anyone at all, let alone an enemy. The child’s soul would be safe, Albus knew, if Tom picked him over Harry.
And speaking of Harry, Dumbledore was just about to ask where the boy was when he crawled in the doorway.
“Ah ha! Look what I have for you, dear boy!” Albus chortled, reaching out for the child who continued to crawl towards him, not yet having made any efforts to walk.
But he could talk. Just a few words here and there, but he was very adept at repeating his mother’s favourite household charms.
1“Scourgify. Skurge. Tergeo.” Harry yelled one charm after another, one hand pointed towards Albus as if he actually held a wand. He giggled because while nothing actually happened, his parents instantly cooed over him, which was a brilliant result in the one-year-old’s mind. Albus clapped along with Lily and James, offering the boy the praises he sought.
“Well done,” Albus said, finally close enough to pull the wiggling baby into his arms. He handed over a small wrapped sphere, and Harry tugged excitedly at it until the paper fell away. Tarrant held a matching gift in his hands, yet he didn’t seem to pay it any attention. His arms were held out towards the older Wizard, who was cuddling his twin brother, and yet his twin brother was staring with wide green eyes at the Snitch which activated at his touch and began to flutter around his head. “Happy birthday, little Harry.”
He handed the child over to his mother, and Lily took him with a wide smile.
“Sirius and Remus asked me to bring these along,” he said, offering the cards and presents towards Lily. “And Alice sent a card, and she wishes the boys many more birthdays to come.”
“Poor Alice,” James whispered. Lily looked away, feeling guilty again at her thoughts last year, at her relief that it was someone else’s child and not her own in danger.
“Tell her we said thank you. How is she?”
Albus frowned, “As well as can be expected. They’re still keeping Frank in St Mungos, but Alice had finally been allowed home. Ah, yes before I forget, Peter asked me to pass these along too.”
Lily placed everything down on the sofa, and she and James left the boys sitting on the floor as they followed Albus into the kitchen. When they were gone, Tarrant stood up, tugging eagerly at the pile of presents. He dropped some down onto the ground so Harry could reach them, still sitting on his bum and looking up at his brother while whispering, “give, give,” softly, pudgy fingers clenching excitedly.
Peter’s present fell into his lap, and though Tarrant’s name was on the tag Harry grabbed hold of it with a wide grin. He pulled the paper away, tongue poking out of his mouth as he struggled with the wrapping. It was a stone, black and round with a flat bottom, and as Harry’s fingers touched it it began to glow a bright red. The child screamed. Tarrant snatched it from his hands, hoping it would stop his brother from crying, but Harry kept crying. The stone turned black again, and Tarrant stared down at it, perhaps wondering what it had done to make Harry upset.
The Potters and Dumbledore rushed back inside. Lily grabbed one boy and James the other and Dumbledore reached out to pull the bloodstone from Tarrant’s hand. He frowned, allowing his magic to seep out and surround the object, tasting and testing it and then he frowned angrily.
“Dark magic.” Albus growled, wondering why he hadn’t realized sooner. Then he glanced at the shredded wrapping paper on the ground, frowning once more as he noticed the name on the tag.
“What was Peter playing at?” James growled, carrying Tarrant further away from the malicious gift.
“I’ve no idea,” Albus whispered, although, on some level, he could guess.
XXX
Lord Voldemort waited.
He sat at a long, dark wood table, Death Eaters sitting down either end with him at the head, and by his side Wormtail trembled. Peter was holding a stone that matched the one Tarrant had received, and as it began to glow Voldemort chuckled.
He had ordered Peter to send the bloodstone to the Potter twins, not because he believed that anything would come of it, but because he was sick of those dreams and wanted to prove that those twins were not the same twins that Peter knew. And yet, they must have been, because the stone had turned bright red in the hands of his mate, and was only now fading to black again.
The stone itself had been made from a special, expensive crystal that Voldemort had ordered another Death Eater to procure, and then infused with the Dark Lord’s own blood. He had added several curses and hexes on the wrapping paper to dissuade idiots from taking the stone from his mate (if either boy turned out to be his mate) and that would mask its Dark presence. As the stones connected, Tarrant’s and Voldemort’s own blood was meant to seek out the other, to bond them on some level so that Voldemort would always know who he was, always find the other in a crowd no matter how large and loud.
And bond to Harry it had, blood-magic seeping in through the skin of the baby’s palm and marking him as another’s mate. And that sort of claim hurt. To a one-year-old, it had hurt more than he had ever imagined anything could hurt, because the only other times he hurt was when his nappy was uncomfortably full or his stomach was uncomfortably empty, but his parents always took care of that pain. But this, what the stone had done, that had been pain, of a different nature, and that was why he had cried. Voldemort knew it would hurt the child, but it wouldn’t permanently harm him, and anyway, Voldemort hadn’t been convinced anything would happen at all.
“Tarrant Potter,” he whispered to himself, reaching out to take the bloodstone from Peter’s shaking hands. “Isn’t he your Godson, Wormtail?”
“Yes, my Lord,” the trembling man whispered.
XXX
September 1981.
“S-Sirius!” Peter called loudly. People turned to look at him, and he ducked his head down in embarrassment, hunching his shoulders as if it would make them less likely to see him.
“What is it Peter?” Sirius turned to ask him. He wasn’t in the best of moods, which was acceptable really considering everyone at the Order meeting had greeted him rather frostily: just after he offered up his own home for their use. That was gratitude for you, he thought angrily, trying to brush off their dirty looks and frosty tones, pretending it didn’t bother him. He didn’t even know what he had supposedly done wrong.
“I just, well, I, that is to say, I need to tell you something,” Peter finally stuttered out. For a moment Sirius wondered if Peter was going to admit why he had been acting so strangely for almost two years, but instead Peter said, “They think you’re a spy, you know. That’s why they’re acting like that. That’s why Lily and James won’t answer your letters anymore.”
Sirius’ mouth dropped open in horror. Wide grey eyes pinned Peter in place, searching his face for something - anything - that meant Peter was joking. The rat animagus stared back, blinking and licking his dry lips nervously, but he didn’t look away. Sirius frowned heavily, shaking his head slowly as his hands trembled in shock. “Why?” He asked shakily.
“Well,” Peter started, and then paused, looking unwilling to continue. “There have been rumours, about you buying the twins Dark gifts and you associating with people in Knockturn Alley and that, well, that you were overheard being rather, you know, nice about You-Know-Who and…” Peter trailed off as Sirius raised his hand, begging silently for silence.
The poor grey-eyed man had no idea that Peter had been the one to start those rumours. He had followed Sirius to work one day, watched him arrest a thief in Diagon Alley and immediately run back to tell everyone that Sirius had been the one arrested for some wrong doing: apparently, only his money had saved him from Azkaban. That horrible house elf who hated Sirius was more than happy to throw his voice around, to pretend in shadowy corners that he was talking to Sirius and worshiping Lord Voldemort’s name before falling silent just as someone overheard. Peter had owled Lily and James, apologizing desperately after Albus had informed him that one of the twins had been injured by his gift, claiming that Sirius had picked it out because Peter really had no idea what to get a baby. He wasn’t very good with babies, see, and the adult Potters remembered Remus’ words about Peter’s jealousy and reluctance to grow apart and believed him at his word. And poor Sirius was left with the blame, as each of them wondered if their friend had really ever managed to escape his family completely, the practises they shared and the beliefs they held, and the darkness of the blood that ran through their veins.
“I don’t know what to say,” Sirius whispered.
“There have also been rumours about You-Know-Who. I heard people whispering in work last Monday.” Peter was a journalist. Well, no, not really; Peter was the man that followed the journalist around, carrying a camera, and trying to look important. But it was unbelievable the amount of things you could overhear on the job, because no one really ever paid much attention to the camera man. “They were saying You-Know-Who was planning to attack Tarrant. Apparently… Apparently he knows where James is hiding him.”
“That’s impossible!” Sirius shouted, cheeks flushing. “I’m the Secret Keeper, and I’ve never breathed a word about it to anyone!”
“I don’t know… maybe they’re linked somehow? I mean, he must be important if V-V-Vo- You-Know-Who wants to find him so badly, right S-Sirius? Maybe he has other ways to find the twins?”
“Well, what do we do?” Sirius rang his hands in front of his chest, looking frantic with worry. On the one hand he wanted to run to James and Lily and cuddle his godson and their other twin and keep them both safe. But he had never been to visit Godric’s Hollow, not since the spell had been cast, because he didn’t want to risk leading anyone there. But that appeared to have been for nothing, because now the Dark Lord knew where his family was, and Sirius had to warn them. But on the other hand, he wanted to rush off and find the Dark Lord and wring the man’s neck. How dare he threaten his family? How dare the Order believe he was capable of betraying his family? Sirius squeezed his eyes closed tightly, willing the tears not to fall.
“If anything happens, they’ll blame me won’t they?” He whispered. “James will blame me.”
“Wh-what if, no, no it doesn’t matter. It’s a stupid idea.” Peter looked away, a horrid blush on his pale cheeks. Sirius stared at him, wide eyed still and curious, almost ravenous as he waited for Peter’s miracle suggestion. “Well… why don’t you just swap Secret Keepers? If the guys at work are wrong, and You-Know-Who captures you at least you won’t be able to tell him anything, will you! Because you won’t know!” Peter ducked his head bashfully. He had his fingers crossed behind his back, praying that this would work, because his Lord was waiting on him and on his success. Lord Voldemort did not like failure.
“Peter!” Sirius practically shrieked, diving forward to catch the chubby man by the shoulders. He shook Peter lightly, laughing up in the man’s face, and for a moment Peter thought Sirius would tell him how stupid he was and walk away, but then he said, “You’re a fucking genius, mate!”
Peter smiled, trying to look bashful and awed. But he didn’t think he had succeeded. Sirius didn’t notice, but Peter looked more smug than anything else.
XXX
23rd October 1981.
Sirius had kept Peter’s ‘rumours’ in mind, and once they had changed Secret Keepers everyone in the Order was made aware of Lord Voldemort’s fixation with Tarrant Potter. Tarrant had been moved into Lily and James’ bedroom, so he would be closer to them, so they could protect him better. They had considered sending Harry to live with his other Godfather, Severus Snape, but when Lily had asked Severus had begged her to never ask him again, as he looked around warily for anyone who might have been listening. She had no idea, that like Peter, Severus was a Death Eater too.
Unfortunately, all of their extra protection was for nothing. Lord Voldemort still believed Tarrant to be his mate, and all Peter’s rumours and lies had done was distract attention away from Voldemort’s real target, Harry.
“My Lord, please!” Severus whispered, crouching down before the Dark Lord. As Voldemort moved along the corridor of Malfoy Manor, Severus awkwardly shuffled after him, unwilling to stand up properly without permission.
“I have agreed to spare your Mudblood, Snape. What more do you dare ask of me?” The taller man tilted his head to look down upon his Death Eater.
Severus was frowning, his long dark hair falling in front of his face and his eyes squeezed closed momentarily as he steeled himself. His hands were shaking with fear, but he whispered regardless, begging the Dark Lord for one more life. “My godson, my Lord.”
“Malfoy?” The man snorted, faintly amused. “What has Malfoy done to deserve my ire that I do not know of, Snape?”
“No, Sir. I meant Harry Potter, my other Godson.” Severus had heard the rumours as well of course, that the Dark Lord was after Tarrant only, Lily had even said as much to his face. But he had been wary of taking the boy in while knowing that the Dark Lord would be that much closer to the child outside of the Fidelius’ protection. He wouldn’t risk the child of the only woman he had ever loved, the child that she had begged him to be Godfather to, to love and protect and worship as if he were Severus’ own child regardless of her husband’s protests and their childhood falling out.
“Impossible. You ask too much of me, Snape.”
“Please, my Lord. If you are only after the one child, please spare my Godson.”
Voldemort looked at the man, eyes narrowed in contemplation. He knew Severus had no desire to marry anyone other than the Mudblood woman, the mother of the twins he sought, and likely Severus would never have any children of his own (not that he’d want them). But Harry seemed to be important to the man, especially since Snape had risked his wrath by begging him twice in as many minutes for the life of an enemy.
“Do you care for him, Snape?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Perhaps we shall say that Harry Potter is the chosen one, and not his brother, would you still beg for his life then, my friend?”
Severus swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his throat aching. “I- I, my Lord, that is to say,” he murmured, pursing his lips. “But he isn’t.”
“Isn’t he?” The Dark Lord whispered his amusement licking at Severus’ own Occlumency shields as their eyes met.
Severus wasn’t sure how to respond. It had never occurred to anyone after what Peter had said that Harry could possibly be the one at risk. Perhaps, Severus thought briefly as he tore his gaze away from Voldemort’s, he should have taken Harry, and then the boy would not be at the cottage if it were ever attacked. He didn’t want to ask again. He didn’t want to risk asking for an explanation, because Voldemort’s patience was already stretched further than Severus had expected. So he tried a different approach. “I hear you are looking for your mate, my Lord.” Voldemort’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Forgive my impudence, but was that not why the bloodstone was sent to the Potters’? Lily mentioned it to me, my Lord, and she also mentioned that it was Harry who cried. Harry, and not Tarrant.” That would give the Dark Lord something to consider, Snape thought feeling pleased with himself.
“And yet, it was addressed to Tarrant Potter. Why would his parents have given his gift to Harry then, I wonder.”
“Well, I don’t know, my Lord.” Severus looked up from his half-bow, warily. “Perhaps the boy simply took it? But she said it was Harry whom cried. My Lord, what if Harry was your mate? He reacted to the bloodstone, he does more accidental magic than his brother, he talked sooner… and perhaps he is the prophecy child, but the prophecy said vanquish, vanquish, my Lord, and not defeat! Would you not wait, I beg you, and see?” Severus ducked his head again, hiding his hopeful expression beneath the thick curtain of his hair.
“Wait and see?” The Dark Lord question, sounding astounded. “Whatever do you mean, Snape? Surely, you don’t expect me to allow him to grow into a man and best me before I come to my decision, do you? Of course you don’t.” He snorted again, looking down his thin nose at the man who dipped lower to the ground under his gaze. “Of course you don’t, my friend.”
He walked away, and left Snape crouched where he was, hands shaking at his sides. Once the Dark Lord was out of sight, Severus turned and in a manner most undignified he ran to the nearest floo.
“Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office!” He shouted into the green flames, waiting until it swept him away.
XXX
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1 - In this order: The Scouring Charm, the Cleaning Charm, and another cleaning charm similar to the first. And before anyone says anything, I could talk (certain words, phrases, etc) before I was one, but it took me forever to walk. Whereas my brother walked very early and talked late. So no, this doesn’t make Harry a super!Harry, it makes him just like any other child.
Chapter 3 is written, I’m just waiting on my beta to send it back.
Words: 4,582
Chapter 3
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