The Comedian is Dead

The Dark Aeon

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 24/04/2009
Last Updated: 24/04/2009
Status: completed

AU: The year is 1985, just past the fourteenth of November. As of the stroke of midnight, many children were made orphans, many parents The destruction of London was catastrophic for the Muggles and wizards alike, Diagon Alley gone, Gringotts gone, Big Ben gone. The list travels on and on, as does the death toll. Skeletons of buildings stood like the shadows of Hiroshima. People? Only a token funeral for them, like the first death of Doctor Manhattan, there was nothing left. Maybe there was, but the pieces of matter that could be determined as human were a mixture of, well, everyone....HP/Watchmen Xover, possible One-shot. R&R!

Chapters

1. The Comedian Is Dead

1. The Comedian Is Dead

AN: I wrote this after watching the movie, though I have to say I liked both equally if for different reasons. Anyways, enjoy and please R&R.

Plot's mine... everything else, well, you know the drill....

***

The year is 1985, just past the fourteenth of November. As of the stroke of midnight, many children were made orphans, many parents The destruction of London was catastrophic for the Muggles and wizards alike, Diagon Alley gone, Gringotts gone, Big Ben gone. The list travels on and on, as does the death toll. Skeletons of buildings stood like the shadows of Hiroshima. People? Only a token funeral for them, like the first death of Doctor Manhattan, there was nothing left. Maybe there was, but the pieces of matter that could be determined as human were a mixture of, well, everyone.

The whole experience led Professor Albus Dumbledore and two of his colleagues to the front door of Privet Drive, Number Four. The whole experience brought two minds changing and charging ahead and a third dragged along for the ride. Minerva McGonagall stood in front of this building of decay and torture. Of course, it looked perfect, but she knew. These muggles were the worst types of people, and the recent years had seen the worst of people.

The Cold War was over; the attack brought the world together, only the muggle world though. Wizards and Witches alike had been celebrating the end of their dark times, the end of their war, for over four years now; the anniversary fourteen days ago. And now... and now the stood in front of a building where for four years, under abuse and neglect, lived the child who freed the Wizarding world/

“Minerva, why must we-”

“Because now is no longer the time, Albus,” she replied and walked forward, her steps echoing on the dead pavement. The street was silent, the people hidden away inside their homes, watching their televisions for signs of the new era, the world to come. “We tried it your way, much like the Americans and their solid belief in that bloody arms race, only this time we were playing with a child's life rather than a nation's.”

“I resent the fact-”

“No, Albus, you resemble that remark,” Minerva paused at the door, raising her hand and hesitating to knock. “Did you even check up on him? Did you stop in to ensure that Harry was being cared for? Did you visit him and see his happiness?” Albus remained silent. “Or did you do as you are right now, standing still and silent.”

Filius was silent as well, but for different reasons. Reasons he could not understand. He was of the mindset that things sometimes must be done, that the horrible acts committed by man sometimes, just sometimes, are required for the sake of the continued existence. But when placed before him, the actual results of those actions, he couldn't follow through. Dumbledore sacrificed so much in the last war, including the humanity that allowed him to see the trees for the forest. Filius was a warrior, he fought beside the leader of the light for the first time. But like all those with goblin blood, he could understand the value of everything: alive or dead. Those who stood before him answered the question that plagued many, the one question that people ask every time war of any kind begins.

“Filius, old friend,” Albus started, “you know as well as I do that sometimes the good of the many must outweigh the good of the one. Everything that I have done has been for the Greater Good.”

Minerva turned around and glared at the old man. She did not recognize her friend any more. There was the Greater Good, yes, but what good was it if no one was around to enjoy it. If those who sacrificed could enjoy it. Were men and women just chess pieces in a greater game of Good versus Evil? Merlin save her if it was. Merlin save them all.

The Cold War was a game of fear, Muggle or Wizarding. The fear of the death of the world as it is known and the fear of the destruction of life, which oddly enough were two different things. The death of the world as we know it was solely the ways of life, which people were afraid to live without. The Purebloods were icons for this travesty within the world, believing and following whomever supported their ideas of 'protecting the blood' of Wizarding kind. And the fear of the destruction of life? That belief was held by people like Albus, who were scared and frightened by the whole scenario. Muggles and wizards, in the end, were all frightened little children.

Her anger burned brighter and hotter and firmer at the thought. Frightened little children. A frighten child was somewhere beyond the door; that was her purpose in coming here tonight. For after tonight, there was no such thing as the Greater Good. A weight had settled in her stomach since hearing the news of the death of London, only to sink further at the news of the child. IT bottled itself up, twisted and turned, rotated, trying to find a home within her. But the anger and the tears could not stay. “How dare you.” she whispered, her hands shaking at her side. She felt the tears fill her eyes, her nails bitting into her. Her body was tense and refused to move, forward towards the blind man, or backwards where the child need her. “How dare you!”

“You who proclaim yourself the leader of the light! You! Who say everything you do is for the betterment of us! Who is us! You and your pureblood friends-”

“Minerva, I do not believe this-

“It is never the time,” She yelled. “It is never the time to talk about the difficult things. As long as the Greater Good is the easy choice you would make that choice every time. And when it isn't, well You simply ignore it, don't you?”

“That is grossly under-”

“Is it? Am I understating it?”

“You don't understand.”

“Then explain it me.” She replied. “Explain how can one child's safety be outweighed by your precious Greater Good. What matters more than that?”

“Minerva, please, I-”

“Am what? Trying, doing your best, only human? What Abus? Do you honestly believe that you know the best for everyone? Who are you to decide what the Greater Good is?”

“Because no one else will!” Albus shouted. For a moment, Minerva stopped breathing. She felt her heart stop and restart at the words he shouted. Albus Dumbledore never shouts, he never loses his temper

“What I am trying to say,” he straightened his robe and smoothed his beard, if only for his comfort,“is that often no one else will make those decisions, leaving them upon my shoulders. And while it often a terrible choice between one or many, I will have to always choose the many, even at the cost of the one. Because no one else would. As much as it hurts me to, I will make that choice Minerva.” And she could see that pain, the weight that she felt in her chest was resting on his shoulders. It wsa guilt and he carried because no one else would. But sympathy and, if possible, empathy did not still her anger.

“And this cost happens to be the happiness and welfare of one Harry James Potter?”

“If need be.”

“Why?” Filius asked. Both eyes turned to him, forgetting in their argument and yelling and single minds that another man stood with them. “why must there be that need?”

“Because...”Albus trailed off, unsure of the answer. He had never made that choice before, the question, because it would be too hard. It would be too easy.

“Is there no answer, or there is one and you simply can not tell us? Filius continued. “Those are two separate scenarios, with two different solutions.” Albus started to speak, but the Charms Professor could not be stopped. “It is difficult for one man to make decisions, which is why we as a society have forms of government which spread out that responsibility.”

“Yet they look to one man.” Albus' tone implied that the world looked at him.

“And the one man should know when he can not stand alone.” Filius walked forward passed Minvera and opened the door. Now was not the time to be patient and kind, but for honesty. “We live in a world filled with islands, islands that band together in fear and look towards the biggest and most powerful island for protection and guidance. But nevertheless we are still islands.” He walks through into the home, leaving the two professors alone outside.

“What should I have done, Minnie? Left him to be part of a wizarding family, one who would praise and adore him as the Boy-Who-Lived, treating him like a prince, guiding his life whether he was rich or poor, leaving him open to be attack-”

“You could continue to list your reasons, or you can accept the fact that you made a mistake. You are not a god nor are you perfect.” She turned back to the door, hoping to find Filius quickly and make their second trip. “You are mortal, Albus.”

“This was all for the Greater Good.”

“Whose?” The conversation was over, and she walked inside, avoiding the answer.

Filius walked through the house, his small stature and feet enabling him to much more quiet then most people would be. He searched quickly, digging through the home without disturbing anything, not that anyone would care. The whole reason for his being there was left alone in this home, no house. This was not a home, too clean, too empty. Everything had its place: pictures positioned to be seen only from specific spots on the couch, none of the Boy-Who-Lived; not a single crumb upon the floor or a dirty linen upon the tables; gaudy yellow and green paint upon the walls that hide holes and marks well. People did not live here, though they cleared attempted to make it look so.

A soft moan from within the house called to Filius and he paused in his search. Upstairs three people slept peacefully unaware of the half-goblin who waltzed through the home with a single care in the world. The moan did not come from those who were arrogantly unaware but rather the stairs.

The moan of a four year old child came from underneath the stairs.

He almost rushed to the cupboard that had many locks and bolts upon it: not to keep someone out but to keep someone in. A little white grate was the only opening for air and sound in the actually cupboard, and even then it was pitiful. A wave of his wand and the door opened.

And Filius stepped back.

Minerva watched silently as her friend rushed about, searching. Filius was a Charms Master and a Huntsmen of a Goblin tribe, if anyone could find Harry quickly it was him, something she was grateful for. Albus stood outside, waiting, unable to bring himself in, guilt now crushing his old shoulders. She wished she could bring the man comfort, for the world he created and knew came crashing down around him, but her anger rooted her. Albus was a good man, despite this, but his fault, if one dared to call it that, and she did, was that he was too good. Too kind. Too forgiving. The previous war was brutal and crushing to her friend, her confidant. What the Muggles called World War II, the Wizarding World had no real name for it. But she knew that Albus Dumbledore did not walk away unharmed like so many believed. His scars were internal and the only way to recover was the forgiveness he gave out like the lemon drops he loved and adored. Albus was -

Filius stepped back from the cupboard, a look of shock crossed his face, only to be replaced by anger. Minerva knew the moment they walked in, she knew just as Albus knew just as Filius knew. They all knew that Harry's life was imperfectly horrible and terrible. These were the worst of Muggles after all. A home without love is not a home, just a house. Filius stepped away and Minera stepped forward. Behind her, Albus finally found himself, and stepped into the home.

She walked towards the cupboard, as Filius backed away quickly. The Goblin nation, his nation, treasured and adored children, just as the Wizarding World claimed to do. IT was a capital crime to even harm a child in anger. Punishment was sometimes physical, yes, but there was a difference between harm and punishment. No, children were never treated in this manner, and she could understand his reaction. Minera knelt down next to the cupboard and reached in, pulling out the battered skeleton-like body of Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Albus knelt next to her as she cradled the sleeping child. He was alive and she could not her tears. James and Lily were her favorites, and Minerva had be blessed to attend the baptism of Harry. James was a Catholic and insisted that no matter what, their son was being baptized. Albus was next to her, and he pulled out his wave, muttering under his breathe.

“There is nothing broken.”

“Thank Merlin,” Minerva said, releasing a breathe she didn't know she was holding.

“No, but I suggest that we take him to Madame Pomfrey as quickly as possible. I do not like the bruises or the malnutrition that he has.” Albus stood up and waited for her. Filius was outside, watching the empty street, hiding from them for the moment. Minerva held Harry tightly, her tears falling upon the child's head. Harry's skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, pulling her closer, which made her tears fall freer.

She stood up with the help of her friend. Things were hurt between them, and it would be awhile before she could share his bed again, but she could. Albus reached out and touched her cheek softly over Harry, his fingers catching some of her tears. Forgiveness was earned, and she knew that, holding Harry close. The damage was done, yes, but it was not like they had waited eleven years before contact. No, Albus would be forgiven one day, the Dursleys on the other hand. A glare up the stairs was immediately followed by a hand on her shoulder. “My dear,” Albus said, “now is not the time. Harry must be take care of first and we still have that other stop.”

“Albus....” She looked back at him. Before this moment, before holding harry in her arms, she doubted that he would care to stop at the Granger home. But now....

“She needs someone who will take care of her, and I-I....I researched her family. There is no one close, no one here for her. No.” He shook his head. “I'm sure that between the three of use we could-”

“Me.” Filius spoke up. His wand was out, and burning bright blue. “I will take her. My wife and I had tried for years, but unsuccessful.” Words best left unsaid remained silent from the three of them. “I am sure she would love to raise her, even if she is not a Goblin.” He looked up with tears in his eyes, sharing between the three of them only what a trio could share. “I've seen enough orphans in horrible houses today to last a life time. I will not send her to someplace where she will not be loved. I will not allow it, Albus. And you can not stop me.” Albus was a great wizard, a mage if the term could be applied. But Filius was determined.

“Of course,” he smiled, the twinkle in his eye there, albeit weak and tired, showing its age. “I wouldn't dare, my friend. I was going to suggest one of us, someone who could be trusted with it.” Minerva bite her tongue for the moment, refraining from her anger to lash out. He was trying. He was trying to be better, to see the trees for the forest. Albus could be nothing but forgiveness eternal, she knew that. But Albus Dumbledore was a good man, the best man, but just a man. He would and could make mistakes. And he would learn from them.

“Can we go now?” Filius was impatient. He had a charge now, she could understand. She wanted Harry to be safe and healthy soon. He was her charge, a nephew.

“Of course,” Minerva replied and walked out the door, Harry gripped tightly to. Filius followed, spring in his step that had not been there in years. But Albus did not. They turned and waited for him. And waited. Ten minutes passed and Albus finally came out side.

Clean as he had just walked in.

Cleaner now that he had finished.

“Ready?” One day, she would ask him what he had done. One day she was try to understand how powerful the wizards known as Albus Dumbledore really was.

But today was not that day. Today was the day that a trio saved the life of Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, from one of pain and suffering. Much would come yes, but at least for today, and years to come, he would be loved and free, by family and friends; by his blood and choice, Harry would love.

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