DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. does, and she has every right to do whatever she thinks is best for Harry Potter. I just love writing. So sue me. Wait, seriously… don't.
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A/N:
Sorry for the late chapter. I really had a hard time with this. This chapter contains just one of the many revelations that I had in mind. I hope you like this one. I only started to write this one today, so I haven't had much time editing it. Please go easy on me…especially with typos.
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A thousand miles outside the Black Manor, another mansion stood, old and rotting with age.
It was not large for a manor.
Compared to Godric's Hollow, it was insignificant. Although considered acceptable at some point, it was not very admirable in its exterior. It had deteriorated over the years, leaving only an adequate residence for its original dweller.
The surrounding gardens were kept, but the mounting trees and tangling vines that grew everywhere still surrounded the place as if it were part of the forest that thrived beyond the estate.
Never was there brightness within, but nobody complained.
Servants remained out of loyalty…or perhaps out of fear. Their need to survive was greater than their need for content.
As depressing as it may seem, the Serpent Lair was home to a great lord.
And if they wanted to live, they would have to stay with their master. They knew far too much of what went on in his life to be allowed their freedom.
Take this particular night for example.
Yes, night had fallen. It was just the right time for the lord of the manor, who has seen more than 60 summers in life, to be in his chambers, retiring after a long day.
But instead, they knew he was in the drawing room, sipping brandy, and entertaining company - an outlaw who had managed to escape prison, and was now hiding within the very walls of Serpent Lair.
The master had sent him out for a mission days earlier, and it appeared that he had brought news regarding his task.
What news he had come to bring - now that was something they didn't know.
And as far as they were concerned…it was never good to try and find out.
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Seated in front of the fireplace, the Lord of Serpent Lair silently mused about the news his messenger brought him.
He wanted to stand, but the comfort of his chair was far too inviting to do so and he found himself addressing his courier with a satisfied smile.
"She's back, my lord." His pitiful servant repeated, uncertain whether he heard him the first time.
"And so she is." He replied.
"Are you planning to…"
"I will wait a little more."
"But she has made you wait for 18 years and 7 more for this."
"She has made me wait, and I did all this time, Peter. A few more days would not hurt me."
"But, you have not much strength…"
"Weak as I am, I have my heir."
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Harry Potter's disposition could not be any more unpleasant as he paced his chambers trying to think of a thousand reasons why Sirius had sent him to his room rather than go straight to his office and talk about his deceptions!
"Think it over, Harry."
Sirius had said.
Think?
What was there to think about?
While it was true that he had kept a part of his life hidden from Sirius, it was his godfather who had to do some explaining.
And he couldn't be more curious about it.
Would it have something to do with his life?
It had better.
Even after five years of knowing why his parents weren't there for him, Harry never found consolation for having been an outsider all his life.
He had playmates when he was younger - but never the real ones with whom he had been able to get close to while growing up.
He was not from where they came. That much they made clear. He had not fit in, and all because his filthy excuse for relatives were too greedy for their own good.
"Don't worry about them, sweetheart."
Harry tensed.
It had been months since he heard that voice and he had come to believe all this time that it would be gone for good
So why did it come out now?
Rubbing his forehead, he sat down. And then all of a sudden, a night filled with insecurities flooded his thoughts.
"Where did I come from, Polly?" He had asked when he was 13.
"I don't know." Came her soft reply.
"I'll never have friends."
"You have me, don't you?"
"Yes, but…"
"No, don't tell me. I already know." She smiled at him and took his hand. "Let me tell you one thing, though. Those people who shun you just because you're not from around here do not matter. They only say that because they don't know you. But I do. And I'll always be here." She squeezed his hand.
"Why did my parents abandon me? Is it because I'm not special?"
"I really don't know. But you are, to me. So stop worrying about your past. If you do, you'll be much caught in it to see what is in your present and what you could have in the future."
"It's a little hard to take your advice this time, Pol. I need to know who I am."
"Why don't you try and look?" She had suggested in that gentle way of hers that made him feel so welcomed.
"You know I can't do that. If I look for my past, I will need you with me. But you would never set foot out of Averhille. This is your home, and as much as I want to look for my identity, I can never leave you."
"So then," She responded cheerfully, "Why don't you start treating this place as your home? It has always been yours to claim." She added as she kissed his cheek and left.
Looking back, Harry knew that it would have been better to have heeded her advice and left Averhille, rather than stay.
But his gratitude, then, had been more important to him than some identity that really didn't matter. No matter how much he craved for his own name, Harry knew he could not have stomached leaving the person who gave back the life that was robbed off him.
He wasn't her real son, but she had treated him as if she were her own. Even when others taunted her for keeping somebody who was not their kin, Polly had kept him within her safety.
She worked hard for everything he needed, and when he was in that stage wherein he had craved for more than he should, she had given him his spoils despite her lack of wealth.
And when it was time for him to learn, she proved to be more than a sufficient teacher. She taught him despite her lack of education.
For Harry, she was more than a mother.
She was an angel sent to be his savior.
She had shown him all the things that truly mattered in life. She taught him how to be unselfish and how to forgive. She showed him how to make something of himself and to never let anything else matter when reaching for his dreams.
And despite his lack of self-esteem, she taught him how to love.
Within time, he had learned how…
But the love that he felt was for her only…
He gave it without question because she had given him hers even if he hadn't asked for it.
Although nobody really blamed him for what happened, Harry hated himself for having put Polly in his path. He hated his weakness and he hated his cowardice.
Because of her love and his…the guilt of her death would hang upon him for as long as he lived.
"Go blow your candles like a nice little boy and don't complain."
"But this must have caused you a week's pay. You didn't have to do this. It's not even my real birthday."
"But then, it's not everyday a woman gets to celebrate the arrival of her son, is it?" Polly winked at him.
His eyes clouded for a moment.
She did this celebration every year, saying she would never be more grateful for the night that she discovered him on her doorstep when he was still a baby. He had been sleeping soundly despite the bad weather that evening, but when at the sound of her delight, he opened his eyes, Polly said that she had loved him then and then.
Tonight, her eyes were glowing with that love and Harry felt an unfamiliar constriction in his throat.
Bending his head to do exactly as she says, he said. "Thank you, mum."
Throughout his 15 years with her, Harry refused to call her his mother. Perhaps because he taught he needed to set some space between the two of them, knowing that some time or another, he would have to leave.
But looking at her tonight, happiness flowed through him and for the very first time, he started to feel in inkling of satisfaction. He decided that she deserved to be called exactly what she had been to him all his life.
In response to his endearment, Polly gave him a heartfelt embrace that warmed him despite the thunderous storm roaming the village that night.
While they were eating the small feast that Polly had prepared, Harry suddenly felt a strange prickling at the back of his mind.
For some reason, he had a feeling something was about to go wrong.
"Aiden, I want you to promise me something." Polly looked at him over the candlelight that was serving as their only light.
"What is it?" He asked, still restless.
"No matter how hard things get, despite what other people might tell you, promise me you will never give up." She said firmly, her voice breaking.
"Why are you telling me this?" He asked her.
"I have always told you that, Aiden. But I needed to say it to you tonight. I have no idea why, but I just know I have to." Polly gave him a sweet smile, one that etched into his heart then and there. "Always remember that I love you and that wherever you go, I will be with you."
"I told you before, mum, I won't go anywhere. I'll stay here with you." He said, unable to shake away the nervousness of the night.
"I have a feeling that you won't." She muttered to herself even though she was looking at him. "I never asked God why He didn't give me my own children. When I found you, I knew that I was not right to question Him. He gave you to me. And I will forever be grateful for him. You were more than what I wanted to ask for."
"You're scaring me, mum." Harry found himself saying quietly.
"I'm scared too, Aiden. And I don't know why."
"Maybe it's because of what you're saying. Why don't we talk about something else?" He suggested hopefully.
"But you haven't made that promise yet."
Harry looked at her blankly.
She smiled, accustomed to his antics. "I want you to promise me that whatever happens, wherever you go, you will never stop believing in yourself and that you would never forget what I taught you."
"I promise." Harry said despite his reluctance. He didn't want to be thinking about this kind of stuff, not when there was a strange feeling already inside him.
"Aiden." She said after a while.
Harry looked up. "Yes?"
"You do know how much I love you, don't you?"
Harry smiled.
"Good." She nodded, and then waited.
Harry knew she was waiting for a response from him, but he couldn't say it. He wasn't a man of words and although he loved Polly with all his being, he just couldn't force himself to say it.
Instead, he reached over and took her hand in his.
Polly seemed to have understood and she squeezed it in response.
Suddenly, there was a blinding lightning outside, followed by a deafening sound of thunder. An unexpected gush of wind trailed after the roaring and their front door burst open.
Two burly-built men with veils on their faces and black robes stood at the space where their door had been firmly shut.
Polly stood up. For a frail woman of 46, she had a lot of courage to place herself in between Harry and the two men.
"What do you want?" She asked in outrage, clutching Harry's robes as he tried to pry himself away so he could be the one to stand in front of her.
Not even a word was spoken as these men stepped inside their house, unsolicited. There was a bulge beneath their cloaks and Harry had a feeling what they were.
"Polly, don't." He whispered.
"You just stay behind me, Aiden. It will be all right."
For an unknown cause, this statement suddenly caused the two men to exchange sharp sniggers.
"Lady," one of them said; Harry didn't know which, "If you have a care for your own life, I suggest you stay out of this."
"And I suggest you get out of our home, you bastards!"
Harry had never been so infuriated. Even though he was only 16 years old, he knew he needed to protect Polly. But he didn't know how to.
"Are you sure he's the one we're looking for?" One of the men asked, looking Harry up and down.
"Do you question the Lord's facts?" The other one said scornfully. "He has the scar, hasn't he?"
Harry looked for one form to the other, taken aback. He abruptly raised his hand to feel the scar that he had always had on his forehead.
Polly had said it had been there already when she found him. And now, these two men whom he had never seen in his entire life mentioned something about his scar letting them identify who he was.
"What about my scar?" He found himself stepping in front of Polly despite her protests and the threat in the situation.
"Never mind that, boy. We didn't come here to talk." The one on the left said as he set aside his cloak and clutched a revolver in his right hand.
"Better come with us, if you know what's good for you." The one on the right muttered.
Behind him, he heard Polly's intake of breath.
`Please don't do anything rash.' Harry pleaded in his mind.
"Where are you going to take me?"
"To the Lord."
"And who is he?"
"Stop stalling. We'll tell you on the way. He needs you right away."
"He'll be very happy to know we've captured him all these years, won't he, Lucius?"
"Of course he will." Then the man called Lucius regarded Harry with a malicious look. "But, did he tell us to bring him back alive?"
"What?" Harry asked, paling. He wasn't weak, but the thought of being unable to defend Polly and himself sickened him. He stepped backward and encountered the table where they had been eating in carefree only minutes ago.
The dishes gave a clunk at the sudden disturbance and Harry caught a glimpse of the knife lying beside the basket of fruits.
Foolish as it were, it didn't occur to him that even a sharp blade was no match for a revolver. In fact, he didn't give himself time to think at all as his hand closed around the knife's handle. Even as he prepared to attack, he heard Polly's sharp breaths.
Before any of their intruders could notice what he was about to do, Harry lunged forward with the knife held tightly in his hands above his head.
No one reacted in time to the surprise and the edge of the blade sunk into one bandit's chest. As the injured outlaw slumped to the floor in helplessness, Harry could only stare in shock at what he had done.
He had killed somebody. And in his chagrin, he also forgot the fact that he had company, and it was not just Polly.
"You son of a bitch!" He heard someone shout through his hazy confusion.
It was too late when he remembered there were two more persons alive in the room and that the other one had aimed another shot at him. Before he could turn around, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun firing and the sound of Polly's voice.
"Aiden!"
It took him a moment to register what happened, but when he found his own thoughts; his horrified look went from the dead bandit on his feet and his mother's nearly lifeless one next to him.
"Mum!" He cried out as the living bandit rushed out of the house.
"D-don't!" Polly said as he took her into his arms to carry her out of the room.
"Y-you have to…we need to get you to the…oh God!" He said trying to force himself to carry the dead weight of a woman whose spirit was slowly slipping out of her own body.
"He's not…the other one's…"
"He's gone, mum. He's gone." Harry reasoned out frantically.
"No!" She cried out as loud as she could. "He…went out… get help…companions." She said in between breaths.
"You don't know that!" Harry practically shouted. He raised his head and looked around, unable to believe that no one had heard the gun shot.
But it was raining hard. It was hard to make out any sound at all aside from water hitting pavement.
"Listen to me…" Polly's voice was a whisper and Harry felt the unfamiliar strain in his throat once again.
"Leave Averhille. Go far away and stay out of sight. They have come to kill you, Aiden, and they won't stop until they have…" Polly paused, flinching at the pain on her chest. "Stay safe. Promise me!"
Harry clutched her hand as it slowly limped from his hold. "No. I can get you to a doctor or something. Just wait for me, I'll call for help. You don't have to speak now. Just wait, all right?"
"Listen to me! When you go out of this house, never return! Do you understand? Don't even look back."
"No…no…" He shook his head.
"I love you, son." She said.
"Polly…mum…hang in there….Just…just…oh Jesus!" He muttered as he gave up his hope and took her in his arms. Harry gave out a soft sob. He didn't realize he had been crying, but his tears were on his cheeks, falling on her. He bent his head and kissed his mother.
Vaguely, he heard some running footsteps pounding on the wet pavement just outside their house.
Then he felt Polly clutch his hand. "Go!"
Out of obedience or cowardice, Harry stood up without another word.
With one last look at the woman whose sacrifices gave him life and whose body was now lying lifeless on the floor, her blood mixing with that of the man he had killed, Harry went out through the backdoor.
The rain had stopped at some point, Harry didn't care when. Just as he was about to cross the stream that separated Averhille and Helsin Valley, he vaguely heard the shouts of the neighbors. Faintly, he sensed the scent of burning wood and he understood why.
They had set fire to his house. He didn't even bother to hope that they had gotten Polly out of it.
Heartless bastards, the lot of them!
Shaking all over in rage and remorse, Harry crossed the stream.
And once he was out of the village, he never dared to look back.
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A/N:
I know I told you your questions regarding Harry and Sirius' talk was to be answered in chapter 6. I did intend to answer them, but you see, I also didn't intend for Polly's death to be revealed. My hands just started typing it. Before I knew it, I have been writing for 6 hours.
I want to continue, I swear. But my parents would kill me if they arrive later and see me still in front of the computer. Anyway, don't worry because as soon as I can, I will be back with another chapter.
By the way, please pray for my sister, she will have her board exam for Nursing on Sunday and Saturday (June 11 and 12).
Oh, and please review! Just ask away the questions you want answered and I'll reply. Thank you!
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