Harry Potter 1. Prologue: Aberforth

**Summary: **When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.

**Warnings: **Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.

**A/N: **This idea popped into my head kind of randomly, and before I knew it had blossomed into a massive story. This will be a novel length fic and I plan on updating every Friday. I always appreciate reviews, and thanks for reading!

**Prologue: Aberforth**

The rain fell cold and hard, pelting the dry, cracked ground as if with vengeance. Trees buckled against the wind and rain, their limbs snapping in protest. I sat under the protection of an old, knotted willow tree, watching the scene unfold with squinted eyes, doing my best to outlast the elements.

I knew, with every aching bone in my body, that the next moments would decide the fate of us all. My trepidation of the matter heightened substantially as I heard a number of _pops_ sound their way through the area, immediately followed by a storm of darkly cloaked silhouettes, their white masks eerily iridescent in the darkness. I could do nothing but hold my breath as they marched towards the castle. For the first time in many decades, I sank to my knees, calling out to a deity that I fervently hoped, for once, would hear my pleas. My cry was lost in the wind, my appeal falling on deaf ears. I let the rain soak me, not bothering to dry myself with the magic I was entitled to.

I longed to hide my eyes from the scene I knew was about to unfold. Desperation clouded my mind, and for the first time since his death, I wished for my brother to be alive again. Albus and I disagreed on many things, but I feared that he was the only one that could have defended the castle successfully.

My fears quickly became reality as the mass of figures reached the large doors of the castle, and it was only a few moments before they had blasted the wood to splinters. Screams pierced the air soon after, and I watched in a haze as the sickly green light radiated from the entrance to the castle. How many had fallen already? One? Two? A dozen?

I lifted a shaking hand to my temple, wiping away the wiry hair that had begun to obscure my vision. The field that stretched in front of the castle was empty. Death Eaters had infiltrated Hogwarts.

I clambered to my feet, my old bones screaming in protest, and ran. No longer caring for my life, I made the long trek to the castle, wind howling in my ears and rain drenching every last part of me. I slowed considerably as I reached the doors, my heart pounding against my ribs and my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Bodies littered the torch lit entrance way. Some were Death Eaters. Most were not.

Biting back the wave of nausea that threatened to stop me, I ran towards the Great Hall, fire burning through my muscles and lungs. Scream upon scream echoed against the stone. I faltered just as I was about to reach the heart of the battle, my cowardice engulfing me. I set my head against the wall for a brief moment, letting the coldness of the stone revitalize me. I took a long, shaky breath, and took the few steps towards my greatest fear.

The sharp beams of spells danced through the air. The candles that previously had hovered in the air had fallen to the ground, the massive wooden tables lay in pieces, and there was a large black patch in the ceiling where an enchanted sky used to be.

I looked to the front of the room, horror encompassing me stronger than I have ever felt before. Voldemort, in all his glory, stood like a beacon of darkness, a single body laying at his feet.

With tears flowing freely down my face, I turned and ran back into the night, fearing collapse with every passing second. I barely made it to the edge of the Forbidden Forest before I fell to the ground, emptying the small contents of my stomach onto the soaked ground.

All hope had been lost. Our Savior was dead.


	2. Lost Mementos

**Summary: **When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.

**Warnings: **Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.

**Chapter One: Lost Mementos**

The small room behind the Hog's Head was not one that many people knew about, let alone visited. It was a cluttered space, full of many small and mostly useless trinkets, stacks of newspapers huddled against the mildewed walls, and layers of dust clinging to almost everything. The only pristine surface in the room was that of two pictures that graced the back wall, both framing the portrait of a timid looking witch with golden hair.

The portraits shook against the walls as the door slammed open, revealing an older man with wild hair, drenched with rain. He fell through the door, slamming it shut as his knees hit the stone floor and sobs racked through his body. The _crack _of Apparition sounded shortly afterwards, leaving a howling house-elf in its wake.

"Master Aberforth, the castle," sobbed Dobby, joining Aberforth as he huddled in the middle of the room. "They has killed Harry Potter, sir," he choked out, his large ears drooping and his eyes filled with tears. The older man placed a hand on the house-elf's shoulder, controlling his sobs long enough to speak.

"Yes, Dobby.. I know," he said quietly, bright blue eyes piercing and moistened with tears. The house-elf wailed and threw himself against Aberforth, clutching the older man helplessly as he sobbed into his cloak. He did his best to calm the elf, staving off his own despair as he tried to console his small friend. "Dobby, I need your attention for a moment," he said softly, not wanting to upset the creature any more than he already was. Dobby sniffled and visibly pulled himself together, showing the courage that had endeared Aberforth to the elf some time ago.

"Whatever Master Aberforth is needing, Dobby will help," he said shakily, unshed tears clouding his eyes. Aberforth forced himself to smile, a sight which he was sure was not pretty.

"There you are, Dobby. I knew you had it in you," he said gruffly. He rose to his feet, striding towards his desk. He took a moment to gaze at his sister framed on the wall and silently asked her for strength before shuffling through a large stack of papers on his desk. Finding a particularly battered piece of yellow parchment, he turned to Dobby, who had begun sniffling again. "This is a document I acquired from my brother shortly before his death. I assumed it was worthless when it was given to me, but now... Now, I think this could hold the key to winning this war." The sniffles from the house-elf abruptly quieted, and he looked up at Aberforth with large, hopeful eyes.

"Master Aberforth thinks there is a way to fix this?" he asked in a barely audible voice, scarcely able to believe his ears.

"It's the only hope we have, my friend. It will be difficult to accomplish, but with your help I believe we stand a chance." Dobby visibly straightened to his full height, and nodded his head vigorously.

"Anything. Dobby will do anything to help." The last of his tears had fallen, and nothing but pure determination was visible in his features. Aberforth smiled again, this time a little less terrifying than the last.

"Right then. We have a lot of preparation to do."

The night stretched long, with Aberforth and Dobby bustling about the small room, gathering necessary items and working on the ritual they would need to use. By morning, they were both exhausted from their work, but Aberforth refused to stop until they had completed everything. Finally, at eleven o'clock that morning, their work was finally done, and Aberforth sat in the middle of a sea of runes drawn on the stone floor, with Dobby looking on with large, wary eyes.

"Master Aberforth is sure this will be working?" Dobby asked quietly, his high pitched voice laced with anxiety.

"Not at all, Dobby," he said gravely. "For all I know, Albus could have just wanted to get rid of me." Dobby frowned deeply, but held his tongue about the insult to his former master. "Either way," he continued, "we've got no other choice, my friend." He sighed deeply and motioned towards his desk. "I need you to retrieve the letter I've written and bring it to the address listed on the envelope once we have finished. Dobby, this is very important. No matter what happens to me here, you _must_ deliver that letter." The house-elf bobbed his head up and down quickly.

"Of course, Master Aberforth, of course."

Aberforth smiled sadly at Dobby, one of the only true friends he had throughout his life. "As I'm sure you will," he said softly. "You have been a great friend to me, Dobby, and I will never forget your dedication. Now, take that letter, and off with you." Dobby wailed, shaking his head harshly in protest.

"I cannot be leaving you here, Master Aberforth! What if something goes wrong?" he said, tears streaming down his face once again.

"Now now, Dobby, you've done your part here. All that's left is for me to complete the ritual, and I don't need you in danger if it backfires," he said dismissively, waving a hand at the devastated elf. "Take that letter, and off with you."

Reluctantly, Dobby grabbed the letter delicately from the desk, turning a last desperate look towards Aberforth. His bottom lip started to quiver, and the older man was not at all surprised when the elf wailed again and threw himself back into his arms.

"I will be seeing you again, Master Aberforth," he sobbed. "You is not dying here," he said as he clutched at his master's robes. Aberforth sighed and embraced Dobby, his courage slightly faltering.

"I need you to be strong, Dobby. There is no other way," he said, his voice betraying the fear he felt. Dobby violently shook in his arms, and Aberforth could feel his chest clench with emotion. "I'm sorry, my friend, there is no other way," he repeated, softly pushing the house-elf from his chest. "I hope that you will find the courage I know you have." With a final sob, Dobby wrenched himself away from his master and stepped outside of the rune circle.

"I will always be remembering you, Master Aberforth," he said softly, eyes filled with tears, and with a _crack_, he was gone.

Steeling himself, Aberforth looked at the portrait of his sister again, praying not to falter.

"My dearest Ariana..." he said softly, the tears he kept at bay falling freely to the ground. "I will be with you soon."

He took a deep, ragged breath and pulled the dagger from the sheath on his belt. He held it in both hands in front of him, and said in a booming voice that rivaled his brother's, "The sacrifice of one is the sacrifice of all! _Do__vita me__a! __Animam __et __vitam __multi__! __Accipite haec__et recreare__!"_

Piercing blue light erupted from the middle of the circle and traveled down the drawn lines on the floor as Aberforth plunged the dagger into his chest. The room shook with the force of ten earthquakes, the scenery quickly twisting in upon itself, and everything went black.


	3. Hidden Away

**Summary: **When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.

**Warnings: **Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.

**Chapter Two: Hidden Away**

He came to his senses rather slowly, his ears ringing and his head throbbing severely. Raising a shaking hand to his temple, he pushed away the wiry hair that was plastered there, and drew in several deep breaths.

_Have I... Have I failed?_ he thought, desperation searing through his body like fire.

Opening his eyes, Aberforth found himself on the floor of his quarters, things much the same before he had watched in terror as Voldemort and his Death Eaters had taken the castle, killing Harry Potter in their wake. The rune circle was gone, there was no sign of Dobby, and everything else was in place, just as it had been for the last 53 years that he had owned the small room at the back of the pub. Ariana gazed down upon him from her place at the back of the wall, her eyes clouded with the insanity that had taken her at such an early age.

Gathering his bearings, he stumbled to his feet. He looked down at his chest, expecting to find some remnants of the dagger he had pushed through himself what felt like minutes before, but found nothing but undisturbed cloth. He ripped his cloak off, his hands exploring the skin of his chest, but saw and felt nothing. His skin was as unmarred as it had been before the ritual.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned to the stacks of newspapers against the wall. Eying it suspiciously, he noticed they were now several feet shorter than they had been before. He walked briskly to the pile, snatching up the first paper.

**"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Dead, Harry James Potter Declared The Boy-Who-Lived!" **the headline screamed. Checking the date, which read November 2nd, 1981, his hands began to go numb and he felt the paper fall to the ground.

"By the gods.." he said under his breath, his hands shaking once more. He checked his pockets quickly, and after finding his wand, he stormed out of his rooms into the pub, which was mostly empty at this early hour save the three menacing looking goblins that were huddled in the back corner, heatedly in debate. A wiry young man with pale brown eyes and dirty brown hair sat behind the bar, scrambling to look busy as he noticed Aberforth emerging from his quarters.

"Good morning, Mr. Dumbledore," he said nervously, his hands wringing out a filthy rag.

"What is the date, Kravis?" he asked in a low tone, his piercing blue eyes surveying the room for the second time.

"The date, sir?" the young man stammered, his hands still wringing the rag anxiously.

"The _date,_ Kravis," he snapped. "The thing that tells you the month, day, and year."

"R-right, of course, sir. It's the third of November, sir," he said, and gulped audibly when Aberforth growled.

"The year, Kravis!" he bellowed, and the nervous barkeep gave a start so large that he almost knocked a row of mugs from the counter.

"1981, sir. It's 1981."

"For the love of Merlin," Aberforth said under his breath, making his way to the doors of the pub.

"Are you... Are you alright, Mr. Dumbledore?" Kravis called out timidly, his voice barely reaching the older man as he left the pub.

"Just dandy, Kravis," he growled back sarcastically, slamming the door heavily as he exited.

The morning sun blinded him as he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Hogsmeade. Decorations were strung everywhere, all celebrating the death of Voldemort. Wizards and witches huddled in the streets, conversing excitedly amongst themselves. Aberforth had to push his way through the crowds, a scowl on his face and his hand clenched securely around his wand. He never did enjoy being around many people.

Reaching the Three Broomsticks, he opened the door to a much more crowded pub than his own, with most of its patrons already intoxicated. He narrowly avoided a large mug of Butterbeer that had fallen out of the hands of a particularly drunk Auror, and it took more than a little restraint for him not to send hexes at the incompetent man.

"Ah, Aberforth, you'll have to excuse Mr. Delaney here, it seems he took the celebration rather too seriously." Madam Rosmerta appeared from behind the bar, smiling at Aberforth and handing the drunken Auror an armful of rags. "Well, go on and clean it up, Mr. Delaney. We don't want anyone slipping and falling, hmm?" Aberforth scowled at the man, who was hastily mopping up his mess on the floor.

"Quite alright, Rosmerta. Not all of us can express self control," he said gruffly. She smiled and waved a hand towards the back rooms.

"I'm guessing you're not here just to visit my fine establishment, Aberforth. Come, we can discuss whatever is on your mind in the back," she said, smiling at the older man. Reaching the back room, she quickly cast a number of wards around the door, and motioned for Aberforth to sit in the cozy looking booth.

"Rosmerta, I need to know everything that you know about Harry Potter," he said, wasting no time in getting to the heart of the matter. The witch frowned slightly, confusion gracing her soft features.

"I'm sure it's nothing that you don't already know yourself, Aberforth. The poor boy lost his parents in the attack. Such a shame, James and Lily were quite lovely people, I'm still quite shocked that they're really gone," she said, pushing a lock of golden hair away from her face.

"Where is he now?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat. "It is of the upmost importance that I know, Rosmerta," he said gravely. She shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Aberforth's.

"I suspect he's been taken to live with family. I'm sure your brother would know much more than, I, Aberforth. Maybe you should pay him a visit," she suggested softly, knowing that topic was a dangerous one. Aberforth sighed audibly.

"I was hoping it would not have to come to that," he muttered, rising from the booth and wiping his hands on his robes. "Thank you for your time, Rosmerta. I always appreciate it."

She stood as well, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Of course, Aberforth, any time. Good luck with your brother." She gave him a small smile and patted his arm before taking the wards down and opening the door.

"I'm sure I will need it, Rosmerta," he said disdainfully.

His walk to Hogwarts was longer than he remembered, and his muscles were screaming in protest as he finally reached the castle. Standing in the entrance way, he took a deep breath, having to remind himself that the carnage he had witnessed the night before would not be present today. Making his way through the large doors, he followed the winding path to the stone gargoyle, his irritation blooming full force. He didn't know the password, and would be left to wait outside the office until his brother decided to open the passage.

"Albus," he growled. "I must speak with you. It's urgent," he said to the gargoyle, knowing that his brother would hear him on the other side. Within moments, the gargoyle had jumped aside, revealing a long spiraling staircase that led to the Headmaster's office. He grumbled. He had not expected Albus to be so prompt. He made his way up the staircase, his legs becoming harder and harder to move forward with each step. Finally, when he felt like his extremities had turned to lead, he reached the door to the office, not bothering to knock before opening it.

"Aberforth!" Dumbledore called out, delight threading his voice. "What a pleasant surprise," he said, popping a yellow sweet into his smiling mouth. Aberforth acknowledged him with a small grunt, taking a seat in the armchair in front of his brother's desk. "What has brought you here? Surely you aren't having trouble with the Hanley brothers again," he said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I was quite sure I had taken care of the matter after they set fire to the Norwegian tapestry you were so fond of." Aberforth shook his head harshly, scowling at his older brother.

"No, Albus, I have not had any more trouble with the Hanleys. I came to speak with you about Harry Potter," he said, his eyes hard and serious. Albus looked mildly shocked for a moment, but crafted his features into indifference quickly.

"This is about Harry, you say? How strange, Aberforth. I am most uncertain of what you would like to know about him," he said, and picked up the bowl of sweets sitting on his desk. "Lemon drop?" he asked casually, smiling at his brother once again, his twinkling blue eyes sharply contrasting the hard glint of his brother's.

"I think not, Albus. I need to know where you have taken the boy," he said in a hard voice. Albus immediately set the bowl back on top of the desk, his expression quickly becoming serious.

"I can think of no reason why you would need access to that information, Aberforth," he said sternly, his eyes losing their twinkle. "Not even most members of the Order are aware of his location. Surely you have no need of it yourself."

"Quite the opposite, Albus," Aberforth growled. "I cannot discuss specifics with you. I need to know where he is," he said in a harsh tone, but Albus merely shook his head, his eyes now as cold as his brother's.

"I'm afraid not. You have given me no valid reason to tell you, and it is very important that his location remains unknown to most. Now, if you would, I have matters to attend to," he said dismissively. Aberforth slammed his fist down onto the desk in fury, sending a triangular piece of metal flying off of it and clattering down to the ground. Albus sat mostly nonplussed at Aberforth's anger, watching his brother with wary blue eyes that seemed like they were addressing a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Now is not the time for your games!" he bellowed, his deep voice booming off the sides of the office. "You ignored me once when I asked for your help, and you know the outcome that situation had," Aberforth hissed, fire burning in his blue eyes. "You will _not _ignore me a second time."

This seemed to shock the Headmaster, and Albus sat in silence for many moments deep in thought, his gaze never leaving his brother, who had turned quite red in the face and was breathing heavily. The ghost of a very old pain was apparent in the Headmaster's wrinkled features, and he nodded once, sharply.

"I will need you to submit to an Unbreakable Vow," he said flatly, conceding to his brother. "I will not have this information distributed to anyone else outside of this room. Is that clear, Aberforth?"

"Crystal," he said sharply, the redness beginning to drain from his face. Albus sighed, and turned to the phoenix that was perched next to his desk.

"Fawkes, could you retrieve Professor McGonagall?" he asked, and the bird trilled affirmatively before disappearing in a ball of flames. The two sat in strained silence waiting for the creature to return, Albus absently staring out of the window onto the grounds of the school while Aberforth paced anxiously around the room. Finally, after several minutes, a brisk knock sounded on the wooden door and Fawkes had appeared back on his perch in a ball of flames.

"Come in, Minerva," Albus called, and the door opened to reveal a stern looking witch, her hat perched crookedly atop her head.

"I came as fast as I could, Albus. Fawkes seemed rather urgent," she said primly, straightening her hat before turning a mildly surprised gaze to Aberforth. "It has been quite awhile, Aberforth. I trust things are well?"

"They surely have been better, Minerva," he said, crossing his arms against his chest. Facing his brother, he said sharply, "Can we get on with this now, Albus? I'm running short on time." Albus nodded, turning towards the older witch.

"Minerva, I need you to act as a Bonder for an Unbreakable Vow," he said, and McGonagall simply nodded.

"Of course, Albus. Have the terms been agreed to?" she asked, noting how displeased Aberforth seemed with the entire situation.

"The terms have not been set, but I would imagine that it will take little time. I will be informing my brother of Harry Potter's location, and I only ask that it not be repeated to anyone else," Albus said, giving his brother a pointed look. McGonagall frowned, but chose to keep the questions she had to herself.

"A piece of parchment and quill then, if you would, Albus." He handed her the paper, and she quickly scribbled out terms onto the paper before handing it to Aberforth.

"Are these conditions acceptable?" she asked, and the older wizard merely grunted in response. Taking his answer as a yes, she retrieved the parchment and handed it to Albus. "And are these conditions acceptable to you as well, Albus?" The Headmaster looked over the paper briefly, before nodding his head.

"They are acceptable, Minerva."

"Then let us begin."

The ritual didn't take long, and the ropes of light that bound the two wizards' hands together had barely dissipated before Aberforth was making his way towards the doors. Without bothering a goodbye, he exited, intent on finding Harry Potter and fixing the mess that his brother had surely created.


	4. Petunia's Bane

**Summary: **When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.

**Warnings: **Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.

**A/N: **So I've realized that I'm way ahead of schedule on my chapters, so I'd like to change my updates to _at least _every Friday. I would much rather post more than I say than less, so there you are. At the rate I'm writing, I will probably be posting up to three times a week, but that pace could very well change with homework and the like. So, for now, you'll probably see quite a few new updates. If you don't hear from me in a few days though, don't worry! I will make sure to always have at least one chapter up on Fridays. Thanks to everyone that has followed/favorited this story, and remember, authors love to hear reviews!

**Chapter Three: Petunia's Bane**

Aberforth was in a very foul mood as he reached the small, secular town of Little Whinging. Not knowing exactly where the boy's house was, he chose to Apparate quite a few blocks from Number 4, Privet Drive, as to avoid splinching himself again. The last time he had done this had been some time ago, in the early 1930s. He had only lost three fingers of his left hand, and they had quickly been reattached, but the experience was quite enough to make Aberforth wary of the process.

With a scowl in place and looking very out of sorts in his shabby wizard robes, he made his way down the pristine street, baring his teeth at any of those brave enough to glance his way. Numerous curtains were drawn as he passed them, which had amused Aberforth considerably. He bit down on his tongue to avoid outright laughing after the man watering his lawn had dropped the hose in shock, sending the contraption flying out of his hands and soaking everything in sight.

Finally, he approached a very unremarkable house, with a very unremarkable lawn and very unremarkable decor. Next to the door, a shiny black number four sat below the porch light. Aberforth sighed and made his way to the door, not failing to notice the startled shriek inside the house. He really had no set plan in place of what he would do, but instead felt that a bit of spontaneity would suit the situation well.

Rapping on the door, it was many moments before the lock finally clicked and the door opened up just enough to allow one, terrified eye to peer out.

"Who are you and what do you want?" a shrill female's voice hissed through the crack.

"My name is Aberforth Dumbledore, and I'm here about Harry Potter," he said slowly, forcing the irritation out of his tone and attempting to be polite. If anything, this seemed to scare the woman even more, and the door slammed shut abruptly, leaving a mildly startled Aberforth glaring at the peephole. "Now, Missus," he bit out, "there's no need to be rude, I just-"

He stopped as the door was flung open and he was pulled inside quickly. The thin, horse-faced woman quickly slammed the door shut behind him and ran to the windows, quickly scanning the neighborhood to make sure no one had noticed her visitor. She pulled the drapes shut and turned to him, her lips tightly pursed and her arms folded against her chest.

"Are you here to take the boy?" she said, eyes dancing with what Aberforth thought was barely contained excitement. "He's right in the other room, you know. They didn't leave him with anything, he'll be ready to go in just a moment," she said very quickly.

Stunned at the woman's reaction, he held up a hand. "Now wait just a minute, Mrs., uh-"

"Dursley. I will not have you under the impression that I am in any way associated with... with those freaks!" she screamed, color blushing her cheeks.

"Mrs. Dursley, then," he growled, suppressing his boiling anger at the Muggle. "I said nothing about taking the boy, I'm just here to check on his welfare."

"His welfare!" she screeched, and Aberforth fought with himself not to hex the woman into oblivion. "What about _our _welfare! We never asked to have that blasted child in our home! Take him! Take him, and never bother my home again!" With that, she promptly left the room, only to return moments later with a small, black haired child. His nappy had obviously not been changed in many hours, and dirt stained the side of his face. Aberforth took one look at the child and felt rage boiling inside him greater than he had felt in many decades.

"This is how you treat the Savior of our time?" he said, his voice trembling and barely above a whisper. "This... this _place_ is where my brother has left him, only to be condemned by Muggles and treated no better than _rubbish_!" he roared, and a few portraits of a chubby blonde child fell off the wall, causing the woman to whimper.

"Take him," she repeated in a small, terrified voice. "Take him and leave. Never return to this place." She pushed the small child into his arms and ran out of the room, and Aberforth heard a loud bang as she slammed a door. This startled Harry, and he began wailing in Aberforth's arms. Not knowing quite what to do, he patted the boy's back.

"There there, little one, not a thing to be worried about," he told Harry in a soft voice. Startling green eyes gazed up at him through their tears, and the boy stopped crying, instead regarding him with curiosity. Aberforth smiled at the child, trying to reassure him the best he could. Casting a Disillusionment Charm on both of them, which caused Harry to let out a small giggle, he threw open the door and exited onto Privet Drive, hoping he wouldn't meet any obstacles along the way.

Harry was quiet for most of the trip, only letting out a small cry after Aberforth Apparated them to his rooms at the pub, wanting to avoid any possible interaction with others. The room was the same as he'd left it, as always, and he sighed quite loudly, removing the charm and gazing at the small child in his arms.

"What are we to do now, Harry?" he asked the boy, who regarded him with a calm, steady gaze. He sighed again. "Well, I wouldn't suppose you would know, would you?"

Unable to leave the boy alone, but unable to let anyone see him, Aberforth was in a bind. Transfiguring some of the old newspapers into a shanty wooden crib with scarce padding, he set the boy down softly. He picked up a rubber stress ball that had been sitting on his desk and cast a cleansing charm over the surface. He handed it to Harry, who cooed in delight and grabbed the ball from his hands.

"There you are, Harry. I need to peek my head out of the room for just a moment, don't you go getting into any trouble," he told the boy, who had promptly tried to shove the ball into his mouth. Thankfully, it was much too large to fit, and Aberforth was glad that choking could be removed from the list of things he had to worry about right now. Opening the door to the pub just enough to stick his head through, he yelled, "Kravis!"

The thin man appeared within seconds, looking just as nervous as he had when Aberforth had left that morning.

"Mr. Dumbledore? What is it?" he asked shyly, appearing as if he was bracing himself for a blow.

"I'll need you to make a few orders for a very important guest we will be serving," he said, inwardly cursing himself for not casting a silencing charm around the boy's crib. Harry hadn't made any noise so far, and he hoped to keep the conversation short enough that it wouldn't become a problem.

"Of course, sir. I have the order form underneath the bar," he said, and Aberforth stopped him before he could retrieve it.

"No, Kravis, we won't be needing the order form," he said stiffly. "This is a private matter for our guests, and we wouldn't want to lose business, would we?" he growled, and Kravis seemed to shrink into himself.

"N-no, of course not, sir. What is it that they need?" he said, casting a nervous glance around. "It's not... Well, it's not _illegal_, is it, sir?" he asked in a whisper, becoming far too dramatic for Aberforth's tastes.

"Of course not, boy! Now quit asking inane questions and remember what you need to purchase!" he said angrily, losing his temper with the barkeep. Kravis just nodded quickly, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat. "Right then," Aberforth said, forcing himself to calm down. "The guests we are serving have a young child that will need food. Head over to Barnaby's and pick up enough to last at least a week."

"What exactly do young children eat?" the barkeep asked quietly, obviously fearful of the older man's response.

"For god sakes, Kravis!" he roared. "Use your head and ask Barnaby!" The younger man jumped, but nodded in agreement. "They will also be needing a few supplies, as all of the child's bags were lost at the Ministry checkpoint. Blasted incompetent fools they are, those Ministry workers," he muttered, straying off into an old dislike that everyone who knew him was very familiar with. The barkeep cleared his throat, and Aberforth came back to his senses. "Just the basics, Kravis. Get some nappies fit for a one year old, and some robes. Maybe a few toys as well," he added, thinking of how terrible toddlers were when they became bored. "That should be everything." Kravis nodded and turned to go retrieve the supplies, but Aberforth stopped him with a shout. "Kravis!"

"Yes, sir?"

"If you have any questions, make sure that you don't ask me," he growled, and slammed the door to his rooms shut behind him.


	5. The Past and Future

**Summary: **When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.

**Warnings: **Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.

**A/N: **First, thank you for the review! I always appreciate them, and reply to every one. Also, this chapter is fairly short and covers a few good points, but don't worry, the next chapter is a beast of a thing, which I will have posted on Friday. To anyone who is curious about exactly what happened to allow the events at Hogwarts to transpire, I will be addressing that in the chapters to come. Also, more insight into the ritual, Aberforth's backstory, and Albus's reasoning. All in due time, my friends. Thank you for reading!

**Chapter Four: The Past and Future**

Kravis returned to Aberforth's rooms a few hours later, knocking timidly on the door. Aberforth grabbed the few bags from him quickly, grunting a thanks. He shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake Harry, who was sleeping quite peacefully under Aberforth's favorite quilt. Rosmerta had made it some time ago for him for his birthday, and she had even been so kind as to charm small goats to run around inside the patches, which resembled grassy fields. He had pretended to scoff when she had given it to him, but really, it was one of his more prized possessions.

Setting the bags down carefully, he began to rifle through them, his eyes peeled for the mistake that he was sure Kravis would make.

Sure enough, at the bottom of the second bag, lay three sets of toddler's robes, all three of them different shades of pink.

Cursing under his breath at his barkeep's stupidity, he removed his wand from his pocket and cast a simple color changing charm. He decided on a dark blue, a deep emerald, and a charcoal gray color for each of the robes. He hoped they were acceptable colors for a young boy, but Aberforth never did have a very keen eye for fashion. Shrugging it off, he spent his time putting the rest of Harry's things away. Pleasantly surprised at his approval of the rest of the items, he made a mental note not to yell at his barkeep for the next 24 hours.

_Better make that 12,_ he thought scornfully as he removed a can of infant formula from the bag.

Harry woke an hour later as Aberforth was busy at his desk, trying to rid it of the clutter that had collected on it for many years. The young boy stood in his crib, looking at the older man with steady green eyes. Aberforth couldn't help but to smile at the boy, grateful that fate had allowed him to save the child.

"Good evening, young Harry," he said softly. "I suppose you'll be wanting some dinner now, eh?"

Getting what he thought of an affirmative gurgle in response, he strode quickly over to his cabinet, which he had placed all of Harry's belongings in. Finding a new nappy and the emerald robes, he walked to the crib, Harry bouncing excitedly inside of it.

"But first, my good sir, we must take care of less interesting business," he told Harry as he changed the nappy. It had been decades since he had done this, and much had changed since he had taken care of his sister, but he felt that he'd done a decent job. The nappy was securely in place, albeit rather wrinkled, and the robes fit well. Wiping a spot of dirt off the young boy's cheek, he felt pride welling up in him that he hadn't felt since the death of his sister. Harry let out a small giggle, stomping his foot down on the crib impatiently.

"Ah, yes," Aberforth said as he cleared his throat, his voice suddenly thick with long forgotten emotion. "That horse of a woman probably hasn't fed you yet today," he said in a low voice, keeping his anger in control in front of Harry the best that he could.

Dinner was quite a messy affair, with more peas and carrots flung on Aberforth's beard than Harry had actually eaten. Cleaning up the boy's mess, he set a few of the toys Kravis had retrieved into Harry's crib. Harry squealed in delight as an enlarged plush snitch took off, circling around the boy's head slowly. Hoping Harry would be entertained for awhile, Aberforth sat down heavily at his desk, his thoughts feeling like a tangible weight on his mind.

The Hog's Head was certainly no place for a child, although his rooms were much cleaner than the rest of the pub. Far too many people came in and out, and they didn't need to be asking questions that could endanger both himself and the young boy. Leaving his quarters permanently would raise too much suspicion, and the last thing he needed was his brother poking his nose around. His mind drifted to his childhood home, Mould-On-The-Wold, which had been abandoned shortly after his sister's death. Even if he still had the title to the property, Albus was much too likely to sniff around their old home if any suspicion was raised. Sighing, he rubbed his temples wearily, unable to come up with a suitable solution. There was no way to keep Harry Potter hidden in the middle of Hogsmeade.

A soft knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts, and he frowned and quickly cast a silencing charm over Harry's crib. No one was stupid enough to bother him in his rooms after sunset; even his barkeep had enough brain cells to keep away unless someone had actually died in his pub. Hoping for once that someone actually had, he made he way to the door, his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest. Creaking open the door just enough to see a pair of muddy brown eyes and even muddier brown hair, he growled under his breath.

"Someone had better be dead, Kravis," he hissed.

"Sir," the young man pleaded, his voice tight with fear. "There are Aurors here. They need to speak with you."


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Drama