RELATIONS

Chapter I

Monday, July 1, 1996

"You look tired today, Albus."

"I am tired, Minerva." Indeed, Albus Dumbledore for once looked his considerable age. He was nearly 150, and after the many events of the previous year, he had every right to feel his age. Wizards may often live past 150, but they rarely had as much responsibility as Dumbledore still did so long after they reached the century mark.

"Really, I do understand how hard these last thirteen months, especially this month, have been. . . ."

"True, true." Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "However, it is not the past that's weighing on me today, nor even the battles of the future. It is merely lunch, tomorrow."

McGonagall limped over (for her leg, injured the previous month, still bothered her a little on damp days like that weekend had been). "And what do you have scheduled for lunch tomorrow?"

"Don't you remember?" Dumbledore teased a little. "You and Filius were right here when the appointment was made."

Minerva McGonagall furled her brow and frowned at that; she was famous for her excellent memory. Try as she might, she couldn't think of what the Headmaster might mean.

"I grant you," Dumbledore said with a slight smile, "it was made quite some time ago."

"When?" McGonagall gave in.

"Tuesday, the Twenty-ninth of June, Nineteen hundred and eighty-two."

"Fourteen years. . . ." Her surprise suddenly sobered and disappeared. "Oh. Master Edward."

"Yes. Master Edward."

"Funny how those childhood names stick," McGonagall mused. "Do you think he'll actually show up after fourteen years?"

"Of course! In part because it would be uncharacteristic of his entire family not to, and because Filius received a note this morning from the Hogshead, asking if they might meet in the village sometime tomorrow afternoon, after lunch."

"I haven't heard anything about him since he left. I thought for sure . . . Death Eaters had killed him at some point."

"You haven't asked," Dumbledore gently chided. "I never received mail directly from him, either, but he has sent the odd note to Filius and Hagrid over the years, and other reports have filtered through, especially through Remus. In addition, he did . . . come through here three times during Harry's Third year."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "I don't suppose one of those times was the day the students left two years ago?"

"Yes. He was most upset at Lupin's resignation. However, for all concerned, I think it best not to bring that up with any of the parties connected with the matter?

McGonagall nodded her understanding. "He's . . . well?"

"Well, prosperous, even more powerful than we had predicted," Dumbledore stated, "and rather well-known in high academic Magical circles, and even a few select Muggle ones, under the name of Edward Harold."

"He's Edward Harold!"

"Yes. He left on an expedition deep into Chad in late September, Nineteen ninety-four. They were exploring a very ancient enchanted area, and so got no news of the events here until they returned to London a week ago. And I have been told that many of his party wished to stay longer, but he convinced them they didn't want to stay another summer. In fact, it turned out some of them were connected with Voldemort. It should be in the papers soon."

"So, he doesn't, or didn't, know about His return?"

"Not until a few days ago. Had he known, I believe he would have been here last June or July, or at least December, no matter his vows, my commands, the expeditions, or anything else, to take care of Harry." He sighed. "I wish he'd been able to. This has been another error on my part."

"At least he's coming here first. Harry will be surprised."

"I know." Dumbledore almost looked ashamed. "I meant to tell him several times these last few years. I couldn't, not even when I told him about the Prophecy last month. Now, I rather believe I shall lose quite a lot of Harry's remaining esteem, if I still have any."

"I'm sure Harry still respects you, even if he's still angry with you," McGonagall assured him. "However, what happens next will in part depend on how you treat Edward. Will you try and stop him seeing Harry?"

"No." Dumbledore was emphatic. "It's time Harry met his cousin."

***

Wednesday, November 4, 1981

The crowd in the little church was quiet, yet restless. Some who were there were present despite their grief. Most were there to show honor and respect. Some were merely there out of duty, and they were the most restless.

"Shall we start, Edward?" Dumbledore asked the young man looking through the vestry door at the crowd. No one's grief surpassed his, although some approached it. Edward Potter -- a Seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -- was no taller than his first cousin had been, although he was already built much broader. His eyes were blue rather than hazel-brown, but he had the trade-mark stand-up-and-messy black Potter men had had for at least a thousand years.

Both of the teachers waiting with him, Dumbledore and McGonagall, were worried about the young man. He wasn't acting normally, even considering the circumstances. For almost ten years, his hands had never been this still, except when he was holding a wand. Unable to learn real magic when his brother Harold and his favorite cousin James went off to Hogwarts together, Teddy Potter had started teaching himself 'Muggle magic,' ie slight-of-hand. One of his cousin's friends had had a similar interest, and Teddy had developed a dexterity that would have kept him well-employed in the Muggle world.

McGonagall wished those hands weren't so still now. Edward generally had a Muggle coin he would flip through his fingers, sometimes a coin either juggling in each set of fingers or appearing and disappearing, whenever he was waiting for something to happen. She remembered his doing it while taking notes in class; he even did it while waiting to enter the Great Hall for the first time (she was fairly certain he'd continued, despite her warning, right up until he sat down to be sorted, but she hadn't been able to actually catch him); he had done so before the great funeral service for his entire immediate family (other than James) after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters had attacked the Potter family one August night a few years before (James and Edward had been late returning from a visit with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and so were the only survivors); he had done so before James' wedding the next summer. Before exams, the Gryffindors were always jovial and relaxed -- watching the normally fairly staid Ted Potter juggling or doing card or coin tricks did his fellow students good in stressful situations.

Those hands were currently totally still, though, and he had been staring out into the crowd for quite some time.

The young man, nick-named "Master Edward" or "Master Ted" by James' friends, turned his eyes from the crowd to Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Why isn't Harry here yet?"

"That seems to be his guardians' choice," McGonagall said in her most disapproving voice, "not to be here, like they should."

Dumbledore's face froze.

"Guardians? What do you mean? Since Sirius. . .well, anyway, I'm Harry's guardian."

"You have to finish school," McGonagall hedged. Edward wasn't buying it.

"No, you didn't say his temporary guardians; in fact," he said turning on Dumbledore, "you have very carefully avoided telling me where Harry is. It can't be with Remus, even if the Ministry would allow it, because I see him here. Who. . . ."

Suddenly, an awful thought hit him. "You didn't leave my cousin with. . . ."

"Don't say the name!" Dumbledore said severely. "There are still Death Eaters out there who might find him."

Edward shut the door and turned on Dumbledore. "You left Harry with that evil, limited, stupid woman, and her nearly-as-idiotic husband!"

"Mister Potter!" McGonagall reprimanded. "Do NOT speak to the Headmaster that way."

Edward' eyes blazed, and both McGonagall and Dumbledore took a step back. Sometimes it was easy to forget that James and Edward Potter were two of the six most powerful students to attend Hogwarts in at least the last two hundred years, and were probably in the top ten or fifteen students in terms of power in the history of the School. At other times, however, it was hard to forget that fact, and that Edward was even more powerful than James had been. "I am NOT addressing him student to headmaster. I am a fully qualified, adult wizard, with twelve O.W.L.s to my credit, even if I have chosen to complete the N.E.W.T.s. I am the closest wizarding relative of an orphaned magical child, whose guardian of first choice has been proclaimed a criminal without a trial. I was his parents guardian of second choice until my next birthday, when I would have become the first choice. Shall I quote the will? 'Only in the absence of these fifteen alternate guardians shall. . . ."

"Do NOT say their name," Dumbledore instructed again. "We shall discuss this later. Now is not the time."

"Yes, we 'shall discuss this later'," Edward hissed.

Albus Dumbledore and Edward Potter sat in the headmaster's office later that evening. Dumbledore could tell that the young man was still seething and ready to do battle.

"My reasons for placing your cousin in the care of Lily's sister and her husband are several and compelling when taken together. First, Voldemort has been disembodied, not destroyed as the Ministry has hinted." That got through to Edward. "There are several ways he can be reanimated, although it shall no doubt take him a number of years to settle into a state where he can effectively plan. Should he be reanimated, he will, if possible, try to destroy you and especially Harry. As either your late brother or James no doubt told you, Voldemort is the last surviving direct magical descendent of Salazar Slytherin. There are others, of course, but they have all had at least one generation of squibs, which interrupts the power of the charm, or curse, Slytherin put on the decedents of his second marriage."

"And Harry and I are the most direct magical heirs, and last direct male heirs as well, of Godric Gryffindor, from the seventh son of his seventh son, Harold the Potterer, and therefore also heirs of Merlin second only to you," Edward agreed.

"And, most importantly, Harry has been the one predicted to end the career of this Dark Lord." Dumbledore frowned. "I know James told you that. Harry must be protected at all costs."

That puzzled Edward. "But hasn't Harry already done that?"

"Perhaps, but unlikely; and in any event I am certain Voldemort can't afford to see things in that light, should he return. And therefore, you and Harry should not be together. There are many Death Eaters still at large, looking to kill both of you as well as to locate Voldemort's spirit."

"Then perhaps I should hunt down and destroy that spirit."

Dumbledore merely shook his head. "It can't be done until it's reattached to a body. If he is unable to do that within thirty to fifty years, he will start to fade into oblivion; we can only hope that is what happens."

Ted started to speak, but Dumbledore overrode him and went on to the real subject under argument. "And in dying as she did, Lily invoked powerful and ancient magic; although it was powerful enough to protect Harry because of Lily's power, talent, and love, it should not have destroyed Voldemort's body, unless Harry is very powerful on his own -- the one prophesied to either kill Voldemort or who must be killed for Voldemort to come to power. That will certainly compel Voldemort, should he be reanimated, to strike against Harry. That magic will increase the power of home protection over Harry, as long as he lives with his maternal relatives and only his maternal relatives. Harry cannot be harmed by Dark magic while in their care. Do not hate them because they're Muggles, Edward."

"I don't hate them because they're Muggles; Lily's parents. . . ."

"Were actually squibs, or at least the children of squibs, living as Muggles, as you no doubt know."

"Still, I have nothing against Petunia and Vernon as Muggles. I dislike them because they're hateful, limited, bigots. They will hurt him, emotionally if not physically, Professor, and they'll try to keep him from us. Potter Place is as secure as any ancient magic could make a Muggle house."

"I promise you, Edward, Harry will come to no lasting harm and that Harry will attend Hogwarts. But Harry must be left alone. Let him be raised without the burdens of being great at fifteen months, without being spoiled by house elves and retainers, as he would be a Potter Place. And, to be as safe at Potter Place, he could never leave the island in safety. Under the ancient magic, Harry can have a more normal childhood. And he needs normal friends, not an adoring public."

It was clear Edward had not thought of those points. Dumbledore pressed home his advantage. "A child needs stability. You are not ready to care for a child who is not really even a toddler yet. You will not be ready to care for Harry for at least three or four years. Think of the trauma of his having to learn to live with a new care-giver. Even if you are a more fit parent than the Dursleys, Harry couldn't help but feel unwanted yet again."

That had not occurred to Edward, either. "I'll think on it."

"I can ask nothing more right now."

Saturday, December 19, 1981

"Your Gryffindors are rather rowdy tonight, Minerva," Ivy Sprout, the new head of Hufflepuff teased. "It was only a Quidditch match."

Michael Crouch, the elderly Defense teacher and Head of Slytherin, snarled at Sprout a little. Slytherin had lost the match. Since his great-nephew had left school the year before, the team hadn't even had a good practice. Losing the first game hadn't come as a surprise, but it had still hurt to be beaten so badly.

A clanging glass from the students attracted everyone's attention. Edward Potter was standing at the head of the Gryffindor table, hitting his glass with a knife, drawing everyone's attention. Only McGonagall and Flitwick heard Dumbledore's deep breath of concern.

"My friends," Edward said in a carrying voice, "thank you for coming and cheering us, or our honorable opponents, onwards today. I also need to thank you all for your support for me during these last few trying months."

"This trial has brought to my attention the fact that I need to make special plans for my future. Even if the Dark Lord is truly gone, of which there is much doubt, his followers are still active and there will always be others who seek to follow him or imitate him. No doubt, many of you think I am being an alarmist. So be it; I hope sixty years from now, you can all look back and say I was just plain wrong. But, on the chance that I am not being an alarmist, I must take certain steps for my future. I shall not elaborate these plans to anyone, so don't even ask. However, I felt I must say something, so that my following two actions will make some little sense. First, effective immediately, I am resigning both as captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and as a beater." A loud sound of surprise arose at that.

"Tomorrow, we leave for the Yule and New Year's holidays. I shall be performing my last duties as Head Boy at that time. Professor Dumbledore," Edward said, removing his badge, "I resign as of tomorrow when the Hogwarts Express arrives in London." He put the badge in his pocket, and walked from the room.

The faculty looked at Dumbledore, who was sitting with his eyes closed and a painful look on his face.

"He can't. . .he can't be turning. . .dark, can he?" Crouch asked, fearfully. He didn't dislike this Potter as much as his trouble-making older brother, let alone his arrogant cousin and his friends, but he had a truly fearful respect for this young man's power and talent.

"A Potter?" Never!" Hagrid stated firmly.

"No Potter has followed the Dark paths, not one in a thousand years," Flitwick scolded his colleague.

"No, he is not going dark," Dumbledore said. "What we have seen is a brilliant and powerful young wizard taking the first step in becoming a true warlock." A warlock, a wizard who has not renounced magic but who has renounced convention. Some were hermits, some were scholars; all declared their hatred of Darkness as well as their contempt of wizard and Muggle society alike. Some took vows to that effect, and were joined in a Brotherhood; others would not even deign to join that loose if powerful group. Dumbledore had done the same at one point, before allowing his scholarly interest to be harnessed to teaching, and from there to helping society. He still carried the title proudly, and was still pledged to act for the good without the constraints of society.

Edward Potter was going down a similar path.

Tuesday, June 29, 1982

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, waiting for three people to arrive: Flitwick, McGonagall, and Edward Potter. McGonagall, because she was his Head of House, and Flitwick because Edward was quite simply the best charms student even in Professor Binns' memory, even better than Flitwick himself had been while at school. And since Binns had been teaching for a century and a half as wizard and then ghost, that was a long time. If Edward still trusted anyone on the faculty, it was probably Flitwick.

Dumbledore had been associated with Hogwarts, as student, teacher, and headmaster for over seventy years of his hundred and thirty plus years. He was always interested in the differences and similarities within families. James and Edward Potter were a good example. Physically, only that wild black hair and a certain cast to their features gave them any resemblance. Edward was as stocky, sardonic, and a bit pompous (except for his slight-of-hand) as his cousin had been lean, studious, and ready to play a joke. Both were excellent in all their studies, and brilliant in some; James in Creatures and Defense, and the best Transfiguration student since Dumbledore; Edward in Runes and Defense, and even more brilliant in Charms than James had been in Transfiguration. James had been a ring-leader, Edward the person people brought their problems to. James had never been humble about anything; Edward was a bit prideful of his family's heritage. Yet both were contemptuous of the Pure Blood beliefs that was often espoused by Dark Wizards in the last two hundred years.

Both cousins had loved each other fiercely -- more like brothers than cousins, especially after the massacre of the Potter family -- and both were so powerful it sometimes startled even Dumbledore. If Voldemort hadn't caught him by surprise, James Potter should have defeated Voldemort, prophecy or no.

And that was something that worried Dumbledore.

James was dead. Edward was still trying to cope.

Finally, all three were in the office. "You wanted to see me, Mister Potter?"

"I am of course leaving tomorrow," Nick said simply. "First of all, I need your words that Harry will be watched over, and that he will be coming to Hogwarts."

All three were happy to make that pledge.

"Since James' murder, you've made it clear that you don't want me to be in contact with Harry. I don't agree, but I'll respect your demands unless I hear Harry is in direct danger. While I will be leaving Britain in August," that came as a big surprise to two of the professors, "I would like to see Harry once before I go. Since his birthday is on a Saturday. . . ."

"I suggest you go on Friday the Thirtieth, around Six forty-five," Dumbledore said. "Do you know where Harry is staying?"

"Oh, yes, I once had the displeasure of staying there one long Sunday afternoon last summer, as well as several shorter visits over the last few years. No matter what defenses you might have set up, I assure you I can find it. Very well, Friday the Thirtieth it is. Now, after next month, do I have to wait until around Harry's seventeenth birthday before I see him again?"

Dumbledore had a rare fit of anger. Edward had been arguing against his judgement since the day of the funeral, and there was a slight sneer in the boy's voice. "Probably not. Perhaps you could ask around his sixteenth birthday," Dumbledore snapped.

Edward Potter snapped to attention in his chair at Dumbledore's tone. "Perhaps we should make it a little earlier, just to cover all possibilities. Shall we make it an official meeting? Say, lunch on . . . July Second, Nineteen ninety-six? I believe it will be a Tuesday."

Dumbledore nodded. "I shall note that in my calendar."

Edward stood up. "I hope to see you all then." He nodded and said farewell to each in turn. Before leaving, he also turned to the phoenix perched in the office. "Fawkes, please keep an eye out for Harry, too. All right?"

The phoenix sang a few short, happy notes, and then cooed.

"Goodbye, Fawkes. See you in fourteen years!" Edward stroked the bird's head, and then left the room.

"Do you know where he's going?" McGonagall asked Dumbledore.

"No; if I had kept my temper, perhaps I would have found out."

"He's going to America," Flitwick said simply. "New Orleans, to be precise. He's going to study at a Muggle university, and also apprentice at the Vieux Carre. He hopes to get his Master's license in Charms and perhaps in Runes and Ancient Languages as well."

Edward next went to visit Hagrid. The huge man adored Dumbledore, and so was very upset that one of his favorite students was having a disagreement with the great man.

"I know how great he is, Hagrid," Edward admitted. "And I know he's probably right. But when he doesn't give complete explanations, it does remind one that he's great, but not infallible."

"Well, no he's not that," Hagrid had to agree.

Edward stood up. "Hagrid, you've been a good friend to me and Harold, and I know you were to the Marauders. . . ."

"Don't mention them," Hagrid snarled. "Reminds me that thar Black were one."

Edward shrugged. "I know it looks like Sirius betrayed them. I still don't believe it, but it almost has to be true. But I don't care about that. Please, Hagrid, when Harry comes here, help him. Be the friend to him that you have been to me, Harold, James, and Lily."

"That I will, Teddy. I promise."

"I'm going to miss this place, Hagrid. I know now why you stayed. Anyway, here's my solicitor's card. If you need to get Harry anything, he's under orders to pay you back in full."

"Good luck, Teddy. I hope y'll be back before ya think yer will."

"Me, too!"