Butterfly 31 - LM/HP

[k155_me]

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Sorry for the delay. New Divide 16 is with my beta, and I’ve added several one-shots, and I’ve also FINALLY updated The Abyss, but typically FFnet went down at the time and won’t let anyone review, so I’m a little annoyed that it took me 2 days to do 15k words and got 8 reviews for it… But yeah, I’ve finally planned Year 3 out, re-did the notes I lost, and should start updating more regularly again.

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Words: 4,511
Chapter 31

June 22nd 1993.

It was Dudley’s birthday. With Evan scouring the world for a way to resurrect Lord Voldemort, he obviously wouldn’t be at Privet Drive, so maybe this year Dudley would have a real birthday, like the ones he used to have before Harry turned eight?

Harry closed his eyes, lying back into Draco’s lap, and thought about it. They were both spread out on the same sofa, Draco sitting and reading a book, and Harry lying across him, just thinking. Evan had been gone since the middle of May, and originally Harry had wished that Evan would stay away long enough for Harry to hit his teenage years, so that maybe Lucius would be willing to move their relationship further, but so far the man had acted as the perfect gentleman with him. There were kisses, and the occasional time when Lucius would slide his hands lower and cup Harry’s rear, but aside from that there was nothing happening between them. As much as Harry would have loved for something to happen, he was starting to believe he would much rather have his father home for his thirteenth birthday.

“You ok?” Theodore Nott asked. The elder boy was watching him with a curious look on his face, his dark hair hanging over his eyes messily. Theo flicked it away, then picked up his Potions essay when Harry didn’t answer him.

Harry let him reread over his essay for a moment, thinking that perhaps he should make a start on his summer homework too. “I miss dad,” Harry said at last.

“I was really looking forward to getting to know him. It’s such a shame,” Theo said softly, offering Harry a smile.

Draco scowled at them both, lowering his book so that they could both see his dark glare fully. “You’re both pathetic. Harry you should be honoured! Your father will be the one to help the Dark Lord return! And Theo, you shouldn’t call it a ‘shame’. You should know better, you’ve always known you were going to be a Death Eater and you should take more pride in it!”

“Draco,” Harry tried to say, but Draco just smacked him lightly across the head.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, it’ll be a shame that he’ll miss Harry’s birthday, is all. And I’ll have Yule to get to know Evan anyway! I’m not saying anything against the Dark Lord, Draco, so don’t get like that. Honestly, you’re acting like I’ve sullied his honour or something.” Both Harry and Theo chuckled lightly, but Draco continued to scowl.

“Ah come on, Dray. We don’t mean anything by it!” Harry said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “You’d miss Lucius if he had gone.”

Lucius watched them from the doorway, listening to them in silence. While he was proud of the loyalty his son was showing his Lord, even after having been told that by association Voldemort had been the one to take him into the Chamber of Secrets, he was also a little disappointed for Harry. He, himself, hated missing Draco’s birthdays. He knew Harry was missing Evan, and doubtlessly wherever he was with Voldemort, Evan was missing Harry too. But Lucius took a deep breath, entering the room, and promised to make Harry’s birthday this year the best one yet.

“Enough of that now, boys.” Lucius told them, stopping beside the sofa and his son. “How are you getting on with your homework?” Draco and Theo immediately started telling Lucius about what they hadn’t done yet and needed help with, or what they had finished. Harry bit his bottom lip bashfully, and when Lucius met his eyes he just shrugged, because he hadn’t done any of his yet. But it didn’t matter, he told himself, he had a two whole months left and he had promised himself leaving Platform nine and three-quarters that this summer he wasn’t going to worry about anything.

XXX

July 31st 1993.

Number 4, Privet Drive was a much happier place without the oppressive presence of Vernon Dursley. Petunia wasn’t sure how it had happened, but overnight her loving husband had turned into a monster. She could hazard a guess that it was the fault of her freak nephew, and since he wasn’t home either, she made no attempt to hide her dislike of him, his parents, or hers for that matter.

“Why are you here?” She asked her two guests rudely.

Mr and Mrs Evans stood awkwardly on the front porch, shifting from side to side while watching their daughter with concerned eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see us, dear?” Petunia’s mother asked. Maura Evans looked like Lily had, red hair and green eyes, though a darker shade than their daughter’s and grandson’s. She was pale but beautiful, and by her side Anthony Evans stood proud and tall as he looked over at his aging wife.

“Well, since I moved houses, didn’t tell you my new address or phone number, never sent Christmas cards, never spoke to you,” Petunia said, before pausing to take a deep breath. “Why are you here? Lily isn’t here, so there’s no reason for you to come here.”

“What?” Anthony asked. “We can’t come visit our other daughter? Especially since it took us so long to track you down!”

“How did you manage that?” Petunia asked glumly. No doubt the freaks had something to do with this.

“An owl turned up at our house a few days ago. We had thought, for all these years, that our daughter and grandson had been killed together,” Maura gave a soft laugh, “but he’s alive! They said this was his address.”

“They?”

“There were quite a few names on the bottom of the letter.” Anthony pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Petunia to read over. There was only one name; all of the others were titles, and there was only one man Petunia knew of with as many titles as this man had.

“Dumbledore!” She hissed, eyes narrowing. How dare he interfere in her life? Wasn’t it bad enough that he had dumped that child on her family in the first place?

“Yes,” Maura agreed, “he seems to think Harry would benefit from knowing his grandparents. Apparently he’s fallen in with the wrong crowd at Hogwarts-” Before she could finish speaking, Petunia yanked her forward, into the house.

“Sssh!” She hissed, “Don’t let the neighbours hear you!” Petunia closed the door behind herself, leading her parents into her home and pointing at the sofa. “I’ll make some tea, shall I?”

While she was in the kitchen, Anthony made his way around the house, glancing at the photos that decorated the walls. There were still a couple of Dudley as a young child, but none of him over the age of eight. The majority were of Vernon and a pubescent Harry, grinning at one another, but there was one of Harry and a blond boy, both only looking around eleven years old holding up matching letters.

“Hogwarts letter,” Anthony whispered to his wife. She was standing at the other side of the room, her fingers tracing a picture of a fat eight-year-old.

“My son, Dudley,” Petunia told her mother. Maura frowned at the photo again, then jumped, her hand pressed to her chest as someone came running down the stairs.

Dudley wasn’t as big as he had been, because Evan had put him on a diet, but since Evan was gone he had reverted to his usual way of eating as much as he liked when he liked. He was carrying several empty sweet wrappers, and he stomped passed his mother without speaking to dumped them in the rubbish bin.

“I’m hungry. When’s dinner, mum?” Two months, Evan had only been gone two months, and Petunia was surprised at how quickly Dudley forgot to be afraid of his father. “Who are they?”

“These are your grandparents. Maura and Anthony Evans, this is my son Dudley Dursley.” She hadn’t wanted anything to do with her own family once she had gotten married. She didn’t even tell Vernon she had family until she was pregnant and had learnt Lily was having a child too. It had been nerve wrecking admitting that someone in her family was a freak, but the knowledge that her parents had accepted Lily regardless made Vernon agree with his wife’s decision: they didn’t want people like that around their Dudders. But now Dumbledore had stuck his ore in, and here her parents were.

And they wanted to see Harry. Not Dudley.

Petunia scowled as they turned away from her child, and asked after Lily’s. “He is spending the holidays at his friend’s home.” She pointed to the blonde boy in the photo with the Hogwarts letter. “He doesn’t have a telephone.”

“Surely you can write to him? That owl followed us here, you know. We can use it!” Anthony suggested, and then startled as his daughter threw him an ugly glance.

“Fine,” she hissed. Petunia stormed into the kitchen, muttering under her breath the whole way, even as she scrawled angrily on a piece of paper and rolled it up. She stuck her hand out of the kitchen window and screamed as the owl swooped out of nowhere to snatch the letter from her trembling fingers.

“Why are we bringing him back here?” Dudley whined, not liking the idea of his freak cousin having free reign of his house even while his father wasn’t home.

“The sooner he comes,” Petunia told him softly, though her parents heard anyway, “the sooner they leave.”

XXX

August 6th 1993.

Lucius had dropped Harry to Privet Drive almost immediately after Petunia’s letter had arrived. That had been nearly a whole week ago, and the Evans’ were still there, along with their pet Alsatian who had been waiting in the car. Petunia had relegated the dog into the back garden, not allowing it in the house except to go to the front door and outside to do its business, unlike Marge’s dogs who had always been let wander freely and make a mess.

“Well Harry,” Anthony said, as they all sat around the kitchen table waiting for breakfast. Maura and Petunia were working at the stove and opening presses here and there, searching for cups and plates and cutlery.

“Yes?” Harry asked quietly. In the week he had been there, he had decided he liked his grandmother very much, but his grandfather rubbed him the wrong way. He seemed like a good man, but there was a bitterness to him that reminded Harry of Petunia. Harry wondered, briefly, if he had gone to live with them after his parents’ death, would Anthony have resented him too.

“Do you visit any of your fathers’ family at all?” He asked, curious, wondering why Harry had been kept away from them for so many years. Was it because he was a Muggle, and those other Witches and Wizards thought they were better than him?

“My father’s parents died before I was born. My father died. He didn’t have any other family. I mostly spend my holidays with my friend’s family; the Malfoys have been good to me.”

“Oh, how terrible,” Maura said, frowning, “well, you have us now!”

She placed a tray of tea things down on the table, and Harry reached forward to take a cup for himself. Anthony did likewise, pouring slowly before glancing up at his grandson. He mustn’t have meant it as it sounded, Harry thought, or he hadn’t really considered how it would sound, but he gritted his teeth in anger as his grandfather spoke again. “Such a shame, your father getting himself killed. Pity he didn’t have the common sense to keep you and Lily safe before getting himself blown up. Then at least you would have had your mother too.”

“I would have had my mother anyway, had she not be as brave, loyal and loving as she was. She chose to die, to protect me, her sacrifice kept me alive, even though Lord Voldemort offered to spare her life. She chose me and my father, she chose to die for us. I appreciate her sacrifice, and I honour my father’s as well, and I dislike - despise - you talking about him like that!” As Harry spoke, his voice got colder and colder, and his hands started to clench at his sides. Slowly, almost too slowly so that Harry didn’t actually notice what was happening until it was too late, Anthony Evans began to inflate, like a giant human shaped balloon. Eventually, he was round, swollen and turning blue, floating two feet above the ground. He looked like the girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory had, as she swelled up and turned into a blueberry.

Harry gulped, hurrying away from his grandfather to press himself against the counter. He looked around the room, taking in the stunned and horrified expressions of his family, and then turned to dart out of the back door.

The Alsatian lifted its head as Harry ran into the garden.

He could cast magic from out here, Harry realized. The Ministry hadn’t been able to detect magic outside of the house proper, or the front driveway, ever before, so he could Obliviate everyone, if only he could get them to follow him out into the garden!

“Shit!” He hissed, kicking at a twig. How was he going to explain the accidental magic? Surely, the Ministry already had a Howler on its way to him?

The dog barked, and Harry startled. He whirled around, glancing at the dog that was digging happily at the ground. There was already a hole in the dirt and soil, and Petunia would doubtlessly be horrified when she noticed it, but then Harry saw two more holes, all in a line, and he nearly stopped breathing. That was where they had buried Vernon. Vernon was buried under there, preserved and hairless, just waiting for Evan to unearth him as their Lord came back to life, as Evan revealed himself as Harry Potter’s guardian. The dog was trying to dig Vernon up.

Harry’s mind was in a whirl. He couldn’t remember how deep the grave was, had they actually bothered digging down six feet, or had they stopped at three? How long would it take a dog that big to dig up six feet of soil anyway, Harry wondered. Did Evan use magic, if he had used magic, maybe the grave was deeper than Harry thought, and maybe the body was safe?

“HARRY!” Someone shouted from inside the house.

Panicking, Harry threw out his arm, wand held tightly in a clenched fist. The Knight Bus jerked to a stop right in front of him, barely missing the dog, as its doors flew open. “Hello again!” Stan Shunpike said with a grin.

“Diagon Alley,” Harry told him hurriedly, stepping onto the bus as Maura ran outside, reaching for him. The doors closed before she could touch him, but Harry caught a glimpse of Anthony squeezing his way through the backdoor and floating off into the sky above Surrey before the Bus, with a crack, shot off to its next stop.

XXX

Harry decided the best course of action was to ask Lucius for help.

The moment he arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, he paid Stan for the bus ride and then ran inside, straight over to Tom the barkeeper. “Hey!” Harry gave a small wave, biting his lip nervously. “You wouldn’t have a spare sheet of parchment lying around? Or some floo powder? I need someone to come pick me up!”

“Why, Harry Potter,” Tom said, pressing his hand to his chest. “Gave me a start, you did, come running in here like that, thought something must have been happening outside!” But he walked around the bar without another word and led Harry towards the only fireplace in the small pub. It was out in the middle of the room, and everyone would probably hear what he was saying, but still, it wasn’t like Harry had actually thought to get the Knight Bus to Malfoy Manor: he had been a bit busy panicking at the time after all. “Here, lad, just throw in a dash of this and call out the destination.”

Harry gratefully accepted the bag of floo powder. He dipped his hand in, scooping up a small handful and then threw it into the empty fireplace. Green flames blazed to life, and Harry stuck his head in quickly and shouted, “Malfoy Manor!”

Lucius answered his fire-call with a scowl. “What happened?” He asked, looking down right annoyed. “The Ministry just owled! You’ve received a warning for using underage magic, and have apparently blown up a Muggle? While I’m rather proud of your new ‘Death Eater’ tendencies, I could have used a little warning, Harry. What were you thinking?”

Harry gulped. “It wasn’t my fault!” He shook his head at the look Lucius threw him. Merlin, but he hated disappointing the man; it made something in his chest ache whenever Lucius looked at him that way. “Dumbledore invited my grandparents to visit, and my grandfather said some rather disparaging things about my father, James, and I got angry. I didn’t mean to do it! I didn’t even have my wand on me!”

Lucius rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “If it was accidental magic then there’s no way you would have received a warning. I’ll get a copy of that memory from you, and I’ll deal with it. I won’t have something like this on your permanent record if you haven’t earned it.” Harry softly offered his agreement. “Now, wait there. I’ve a meeting to finish up, but I’ll come and collect you shortly. I promised you an outing for your birthday and since I haven’t seen you since then this is the perfect opportunity.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, grinning widely. “See you soon.”

He pulled his head out of the fireplace, waiting until the flames disappeared before turning and walking back to the bar. “Hey Tom,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a galleon. “Can I get something to drink please?”

“Harry Potter?” A voice questioned from behind him. “Why! It is Harry Potter. Goodness! It’s an honour, Potter!” Harry turned around to stare at the portly man who stood behind him, wringing a bowler hat between sweaty hands.

“Hello sir,” Harry greeted, looking around nervously.

Tom placed a Butterbeer down in front of him, and Harry turned to pay, hoping that the older Wizard would get the hint and go away. But he didn’t. Instead he held his hand out for Harry to shake. “Cornelius Fudge, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I am Minister for Magic after all!” He grabbed Harry’s arm, waving his free hand to get Tom’s attention, then dragged Harry towards a free table. “Come now, sit, sit. I’ve just popped out for a quick lunch, and fancy my surprise to see you here. Join me,” he spoke swiftly, not giving Harry time to protest. “Now, what to order? Any recommendations, Harry?”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. Fudge just chuckled and reached for the menu.

When Lucius finally arrived to collect him, Harry was running his fingers through his hair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but there. Fudge was eating messily, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin after every forkful, and spilling copious amounts of wine from his re-filling glass down his shirt. “Lucius!” Harry called loudly, spotting the tall blonde man the moment he stepped out of the floo.

“Ah, Harry. Come along then.” Lucius paused, and blinked as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. His head tilted to one side, eyeing Harry’s dinner companion with surprise. “Minister? Fancy seeing you here.”

“Lucius!” Fudge said, sounding overjoyed. “Join us, please. Harry and I were just having a wonderful discussion on the regulation of cauldron bottom thickness!”

“How… interesting,” Lucius drawled. He smothered a chuckled as Harry met his eyes, looking desperate and bored. “But we really must be going. Unfortunately, due to Dumbledore’s meddling I was unable to properly celebrate young Harry’s birthday. So, we’ll be on our way now.”

Harry stood, shaking Fudge’s hand one more time, and followed Lucius out of the pub. As they entered the Alley, Harry turned to Lucius and asked, “So, what are we doing with the body buried in my back garden? Cause my grandparents own this giant dog who keeps trying to dig it up.”

Lucius turned to look at him, blinking slowly feeling blindsided by the question. “I… see,” he said at last, his face perfectly blank once more. “Come on, Harry, I haven’t all day.”

Harry followed dutifully. He felt rather proud of himself for having managed to surprise the elder, usually stoic, man.

XXX

August 16th 1993.

Harry slipped quietly out of the study, closing the door behind himself. Lucius lifted his head, watching the child go. Once the door was closed, he looked back down at the parchment spread across his desk.

Harry had been there, explaining in detail everything that had happen while he was at Privet Drive. The boy had waited, seated in his lap in fact, as Lucius wrote the first letter to the Department for Accidental Magic, tying it to the letter the Ministry had sent Harry, and a vial containing the memory he had helped Harry extract. He had kissed the boy softly then, and sent him on his way.

Now, Lucius considered the best way to approach the issue with his Lord. Evan was the one who was more involved of course, being the one who took on the appearance of the dead Muggle and had, in said Muggle’s name, become the guardian of both Theodore Nott and Harry Potter. He started with Evan first, detailing the problem, his own suggestions for a solution, and finished by asking if Evan had any of his own ideas to recommend. Lucius waited until he had finished the letter to Lord Voldemort before he went to deliver them. His own owl had gone with the letter to the Ministry, as Lucius had planned, and so when Harry had arrived earlier he had been accompanied by Hedwig, who waited patiently, perched on the windowsill.

“Bring these to the Dark Lord and Evan Rosier respectively.” Lucius tied the letters to the bird’s leg, and helped launch her out of the window. He watched her, until she was but a speck of white in the sky, before leaving his study in search of the three teenage boys currently inhabiting his Manor. As if one wasn’t dangerous enough, he thought, sighing, just as something crashed to the ground one corridor over and broke.

XXX

August 31st 1993.

Harry wasn’t sure how it had happened. They were in Diagon Alley, all of them, the three Malfoys, himself and Theo, even though they had finished their Hogwarts shopping two weeks previously. He thought it might have something to do with Draco’s pitiful attempts at guilting his parents to buy him the new Firebolt broom, but since Lucius had already said no, Harry supposed that all of this must have been Narcissa’s fault.

Ron Weasley stood in front of them, backed by almost the entirety of his family (bar the two eldest who didn’t live in the country). The redhead was being his usual thick self, for he had approached Harry loudly and attempted to hug him. Harry had jumped back, bumping into Lucius’ chest, who in turn had narrowed his eyes at the Weasley boy. Ron had squeaked, dropping the cage he held and the rat within it squeaked as well. Fred and George laughed, waving at Harry, and Harry, who was looking mortified as the majority of the Alley’s patrons were staring over at him, had just spotted Hermione making her way towards him.

He was still determined to avoid her, to not be her friend, even though he had never really considered her a friend, merely a beneficial acquaintance. But she looked so happy to see him, and at his back Lucius had tensed and Narcissa was wrinkling her nose as if there was an unpleasant smell in the air, and Harry just sighed tiredly.

How had this happened, he wondered. How had he ended up in Diagon Alley surrounded by people he wanted to keep happy and two of the three people he wanted to avoid pestering him. Fortunately, he thought with relief, Ginny Weasley was keeping to herself.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione said, appearing to completely forget that Harry had slighted her at Platform nine and three-quarters last May. “You must be so excited! I know I would be. Though it’s absolutely dreadful that he wasn’t given a trial in the first place. Imagine, if he’s proved innocent. What an embarrassment to the Ministry that’ll be!” She gave a soft chuckled, then frown as Harry only stared at her in confusion. “Oh you don’t know?” She said, pointing out the rather obvious. From within her robes she pulled out a folded up newspaper and she offered it to Harry with a smile.

Harry took it, unfolding it crease-by-crease until it was opened fully in front of him. A picture of a man in his early twenties grinned up at him. His dark hair was flying around his face, and his teeth were bared in a snarl, and even as he held up the placard with his name and prisoner number on it, the man was darting forward and back, attempting to attack the photographer and then being restrained, over and over again, as the picture kept looping.

“Sirius Black” the sign read.

“Muggle Killer Sirius Black appeals his sentence!” The headline read, letters darkening and lightening one at a time, as if inviting his eyes to continue along the line, to follow the magic to complete the sentence. Harry continued to read, pausing at the part where the author of the article addressed ‘Sirius Black’ as ‘Harry Potter’s godfather’, before he continued reading. He supposed that must have been why Hermione thought Harry would be excited. Harry turned to look up at Lucius, frowning because the blonde man’s name had been mentioned in the article too. Apparently, Lucius had recommended Sirius his personal lawyer and had even been the one to file the notice of appeal in the Ministry on Sirius’ behalf.

Harry’s eyes narrowed.

He didn’t need a godfather, though it would be wonderful if the man was freed especially considering the article was implying that he had been convicted without a trial. He had his father, and a godfather would be nice, Harry decided, but he doubted Sirius would exactly get on with Evan Rosier, Death Eater extraordinaire.

Harry didn’t want him out. But someone must have, and since Lucius had been involved, Harry could only assume it was the blonde man’s doing. This meant that somehow Lord Voldemort was involved.

But why did Lord Voldemort want Sirius Black free from Azkaban?

XXX

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Please review? If you love me? Keep an eye out for my new story Through The Looking Glass; it should surface sometime after I finished New Divide and The Abyss.

P.S. I hate bleeding hearts, and I hate when they set essays, because none of them know how to ask questions in proper English, sigh. Uni, Uni, Uni, why will you not end?

Words: 4,492
Chapter 32
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