Age of Innocence

~~~~Age Of Innocence~~~~

First WARNING: This is definitely going to be an AU fic in total. Base this on the fact I was watching an article on the tell about Al Capone and it got me thinking...sometimes a bad thing heh!

Second WARNING: This will, I repeat...will be slash! For those not recognising the initials pairings let me clarify. Harry/Draco, Remus/Severus and yes Sirius/Peter. Also others you'll recognize along the way (don't want to give it all away now do I? :P)

Third and final WARNING: This will have angst, abuse, dark sided natures and language...and everything that made up the brill period of the 1920's. If I get some facts wrong forgive me. Also it's not 100% UK based considering the times and will move back and forth in countries for plot sake, as well as I used the US situation at that time in facts, again for plot sake. For those having difficulty with that, I do apologize in advance.

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~~Godric's Hollow, Wales, UK - 1908~~

 

'We have got to go...now...he's here!' a man's voice said frantically.

'No! I will not let our only son die this way....do something can't you?' a woman's voice pleaded.

'He's too powerful...I can't...just go...run....save yourself...save Harry!' the man's voice said choking back a sob. No sooner then he said those words the front door crashed open and a tall elegantly dressed and bejeweled thin man walked through the doorway, a smirk plastered on his face.

'Revenge is mine now Potter...I've come to collect...' the tall man said in a cold, harsh voice, a twisted sneer on his lips.

'Stay back Voldemort...I paid your damn debts...now leave us alone!' the man said scathingly whilst drawing on some hidden strength.

'Ah, but see you took something from me James Artimus Potter...something very valuable...and now I've come to get it back...at any cost....' the man said in a falsely sweet voice.

'I don't have it anymore....I swear it! No...what are you doing...leave them alone!' James cried out now, flinging himself in front of his wife and their one year old son as the tall man eyed the woman greedily.

'Hah, think that's going to save your woman and that good for nothing brat of yours Potter? Think again!' Voldemort said coldly, then with a few muttered words a bright green glow burst from an object in his hand and James Potter's body fell to the ground. 'No one steals from me and lives to tell 'bout it, shame you had to find out the hard way Potter. You showed such promise too....' the man tsked as he gazed coldly down at the body. He then slowly turned to the lovely red head with the child in her arms, a flicker of interest alighting in his blood shot eyes again. 'Now m'dear...if you give me what he took from me I might considering letting you live...'

'No! You'll never get it back, NEVER! I'd rather die than give you anything!' Lily said through gritted teeth as she hugged her son to her chest tightly, grateful the lad wasn't crying out.

'Foolish woman, don't you know who I am? I could give you the world....power beyond your wildest imaginations...you and that child of yours could rule along side of me...think about it...Lady Lily...a beautiful name to go with such a beautiful woman....just give me what that fool husband of yours stole and it can be yours for the plucking m'dear...all yours...' the man said in a husky voice as he walked over to where Lily was and stroked her cheek with his fingertips, a deep glint of lust in his eyes now.

'N-n-no...No!!! I hope you rot in hell for what you've done Voldemort...you'll never get your slimy Slytherin hands on it as long as a single Potter lives!' Lily spat out in disgust and backed away from him quickly.

'You are trying my patience woman!' he snarled, 'very well then...if that's what you want then so be it. There shan't be anymore Potter's to stand in my way!' he screamed and seconds later a second body joined the first one on the cool black and white checkered tile floor. A cry was finally heard from the infant as he tried to snuggle closer into his mother's still warm arms, unfortunately it attracted Voldemort's attention just long enough.

'So you are now the last of the esteemed Potter clan. It was once a great and powerful bloodline child, but see now it has fallen at my hands, and my whims. However, since you're mother was so confident what I want will not be mine till all Potter's are dead...then you will also suffer your parents' fate! Die brat!' Voldemort sneered, and raised his hand to destroy the last remnants of the proud, noble heritage of the Potter family once and for all.

But something went very wrong that day...something that the man with the jewelled fingers and flashy clothes didn't expect. A mere child would end up being his downfall. A child who's name would be heralded from the rooftops even though the young boy had mysteriously vanished from the Godric's Hollow home less than a few hours after the attack.

A new age however would begin in London again...a new faction of darkness would surface and replace Lord Voldemort, and the child would be forgotten in the end. The man who had once been Voldemort's right hand now ruled the seedy underworld lock, stock and barrel. Houses of scandal catering to men and women would arise in all parts of the new darkened world. Gambling houses and places to gather for illegal drinking would become commonplace in a land that was under a locked law.

Gangland wars raged on, and death became commonplace. Rival factions would try to outdo the kingpin of this particular world only to be dead by morning or vanished completely off the face of the earth. However all this that had and was now taking place was in a world that London didn't even know existed. A place that was built and now ruled not by guns or steel, but by wands, curses and hexes. A world of magic. The wizarding world. It was in this world that all of this had began, and through subterfuge and greed it was about to become crossed with the world of the 'Muggles' or non-magic folk.

In the year that followed the death of Voldemort and the rise of the darker side, that man who had taken over began to form a dream. He knew that in order to maintain a position as the head of the most debauched organization of the underbelly of the wizarding world, much more must be achieved. No matter what way, no matter who he had to get rid of, he wanted more.

He wanted more money, more clientele to his places of ill repute. More jewelry and clothing for his newly wedded wife, and villas in all parts of the world was what he craved. So slowly he began to merge his underworld and the Muggle underworld together until soon enough they were inseparable. The shadiest, dirtiest, traitorous parts of both worlds collided, and within that first year twenty one year old Lucius Thaddeus Malfoy was the Grand Master of it all.

 

~~4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, UK - 1924~~

'Get up you good for nothing lazy arse bastard! Get up I say!' a man's voice bellowed soon followed up by a loud 'click' sound. 'You got five minutes boy, don't make me come in there and get you or sure enough I will!'

Harry Potter groaned as he heard his uncle's voice. Summoning up what he could of his voice he said, 'Yes sir. Be out in a moment Uncle Vernon.'

'Hmph, four minutes and counting Potter. Move it, breakfast can't cook itself!' Vernon Dursley said with a grunt and thankfully Harry heard him move his huge body into the kitchen.

Harry sat up best he could in the small confines of his 'room'. Really it couldn't be called a room since it was only a cupboard underneath the staircase of the very nice home in which the Dursley's lived. For the times they were a bit well off actually considering things, and Privet Drive was an exclusive neighbourhood. Vernon Dursley was head manager at a place that supplied the equipment used to make buildings. London and all of Britain was beginning to grow all round, and that had made Vernon Dursley quite well off.

As he got dressed though Harry began to feel that today was something important, something he shouldn't be forgetting, but for the moment whatever it was eluded him. It wasn't something that his uncle nor his Aunt Petunia would probably make him remember either, that much he did seem to know. Whatever it was would have to wait, he had precious little time left to get to the kitchen or he knew his uncle would make good on his threat.

With a small sigh he got dressed as best as he could in the tiny cupboard and with barely a few seconds to spare slipped into the kitchen. 'About bleeding time you. Now mind you don't burn the eggs nor the bacon again. Any more of that 'daydreaming' of yours whilst cooking breakfast or any meal for that matter and next time I won't go easy.' Vernon said eyeing his nephew wearily.

'Yes Uncle, I won't burn anything today. I won't daydream again,' Harry said in a small voice, and turned towards the newly installed stove. He grabbed some wood from the pile off to the side and stuffed in into the place that would light up the newly installed cooker that Vernon had bought. It wasn't so much he bought it to make Harry's life easier but for the sheer prosperity factor of having the latest model in his home as a showpiece. At the moment though it had made Harry's life a bit easier, and he gratefully had accepted the few burns he'd received when first trying it out.

He really did try not to let his mind wander off, but the nagging feeling of today being something important wouldn't leave him be. He didn't even notice therefore (and thankfully neither had anyone else) that an eggshell had slipped into the bowl he was preparing the food now. His mind was so preoccupied actually that in the end he was surprised that he hadn't burnt anything today. Normally his whale of a cousin Dudley kept a close eye on him, but thankfully Dudley was absent on this warm July morning, having spent the night at his school chum Pier Polkiss's house.

'Where's my tea, boy, and your aunt's tea? Are you slacking off again you good for nothing dolt? If so I'll flay your hide again!' Vernon snarled, and gave Harry an almost perverse grin as he fingered his belt buckle.

Harry winced, still sore from yesterday's beating and not wishing a repeat performance. 'No sir, I'm sorry. Here's your tea Uncle Vernon, and your tea Aunt Petunia,' he said meekly, and quickly shuffled over to pour out both. Just as quickly since he was so used to this routine he returned the pot to it's cozy and grabbed up the plates with their food on it, setting it down gently in front of them.

'Now fetch the paper, boy, and be quick about it,' Vernon snapped and sipped at his tea.

Harry scooted out to the front door quickly and making sure no one was outdoors since he knew his uncle hated anyone knowing he was living there, he quickly grabbed up the paper off the front porch. Smoothing it out so it was neat and tidy he returned to the kitchen and put it down before his uncle who grabbed it up without comment, only a questioning glare.

Harry shook his head and gazed down at his feet saying, 'No, no one saw me sir, I was very careful as you told me to be.'

'Good. Now sit down and don't move or speak. A peep out of you and it's another thrashing,' Vernon grunted, and opened the paper to read the daily news. 'Hmph, look at this Petunia, Malfoy bless his soul, has done it again!' Vernon exclaimed.

Petunia, who by now had heard her husband ramble on many a time about this Malfoy person, asked in her high wavery voice, 'What is it this time Vernon?'

'He's opening up another orphanage in London. About time I say, we need more off 'em! Damned ragamuffins are a blight on this community. Should have put you in one of those years ago boy, maybe you'd have turned out for something instead of living off my generosity all these years,' Vernon said glaring at his nephew. 'Ahh good man that Malfoy, yes indeed.' Vernon said puffing up.

'Yes I'm sure he is Vernon. His wife is quite the most interesting of woman as well. She is on all the woman's auxiliaries from what I'm told,' Petunia said sniffing slightly.

'There there Pet, soon enough you will be too m'dear, never worry. If I get this new deal signed with Malfoy's people we'll have enough pounds to last for years! I did tell you he's going to buy 5 of those new fangled drilling machines yes? Great man that he is, and so very rich!' Vernon said beaming proudly, his beady eyes already glinting with the thought of the extra cash.

'Yes you did Vernon, and I'm very happy for you. Now we can let our Duddlykins have his pick of anything he wants in Hamley's Toy Shop, and I can get some fabrics I've wanted over at Dicken's and Jones. Oh and I hear they're building a new wing onto Liberty's. Oh Vernon, I hear that place is for the most entrancing things from all over the world, we must shop there!' Petunia said with a greedy glint in her eyes.

The next minute however a loud 'crunch' pierced the air as Petunia bit down on something she had just stuffed in her mouth. Whatever it was made Harry look up sharply at his aunt, only to recoil horrified as his aunt was holding something small and white in her fingers now. As Petunia glanced down in shock at what was in between her bony little fingers, realization dawned on her what it was she was holding and the air was spilt by a piercing scream. Jumping up quickly she rushed over to the mirror in the outside hallway and seconds later Harry heard a sobbed cry of 'VERNON!!!!'

Vernon jumped up and rushed to his wife who was sobbing hysterically. Apparently that eggshell that Harry had missed earlier had found it's target, and now Harry realised that the small white object could only have been a piece of his aunt's tooth. Not more than a few moments later his uncle rushed into the kitchen with a look on his face that made Harry's blood turn cold.

'POTTER! You did this! You and your...your lackadaisical daydreams! You-you...come here boy!' Vernon spat out, so enraged by now that he was barely able to even get the words out.

Harry tried not to respond to his uncle, he knew this was bad, more than bad even. He'd seen his uncle angry before, but never this badly, not in 16 years that he'd been forced to live in this home since his parents' death. Which he was only told they had died from some freak tram car accident in Wales and that's why he had the scar he did. It was the leftovers of being run down by the tram that had killed his parents. At the moment Harry mentally wished he had been killed too that day, at least it would save him from what he knew was coming next.

Before Harry could even respond or move Vernon had him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him out the backdoor into the tool shed, locking it behind him. Vernon threw Harry down onto the dirt floor of the tool shed and there was enough light coming through the cracks of the wood that Harry knew he was in trouble. A glint more vicious, more horrid than any other he'd ever seen in his uncle's eyes was before him, and for the first time ever he was really afraid. He was still weak enough from yesterday's beating, one more that severe enough he didn't think he would survive through.

'Please Uncle, please...I didn't mean it...I swear it...I didn't...please...please don't!' Harry pleaded in a soft voice. He knew better than to yell or cry, that would only make his uncle in a worse state.

'This time you've gone too far boy, you have physically done damage to your aunt with your foolish dreams of your good for nothing parents! They're dead and good riddance I say, and you should have died with them. I have fed you, clothed you and sheltered you all these years when I should have throw you out to work already, but I took pity. But now you've overstepped the boundaries boy, and now you shall pay for that!' Vernon said in a low yet very dangerous voice, a steel glint in his eyes that bode no good for Harry.

Harry closed his eyes then knowing it was no good to fight anymore. There was no way to talk his uncle out of what he did to Harry on a normally daily basis, let alone what he was about to do to him now. He didn't even cry out at that point when he felt the first lash against his back, nor did he cry out any time in the 10 minutes that Vernon Dursley lashed at him with his belt and buckle. He never heard it even when the door opened and shut behind him, locking him in the shed.

He did feel the wetness on his back as he lie there face down in the dirt, knowing it was blood. His blood. His lifeforce being drained away in little rivulets into the dirt. Suddenly he didn't care any longer, he was tired, so very tired, and oddly enough he didn't even feel the pain any longer. He was numb and he tingled, but no pain. As he lie there with his eyes closed he let himself drift off to sleep, to dreams in which he pretended to live another life, in which he had everything and people understood him and respected him. In which he didn't live with the Dursleys. Then thankfully he knew no more as he slipped into unconsciousness, not even caring any longer if he lived or not.

It was well into the night when Harry finally began to stir again, and with a groan he awoke to find himself still face down in the dirt, thankfully alone at least. Apparently Vernon had not come back out to check on him, and Harry began to get the distinct feeling that his uncle never was going to again. For all intent purposes Vernon could safely avoid coming out to the tool shed for weeks, months even if need be. Harry figured at some point his uncle would consider him dead and get rid of the body, and since no one in the neighbourhood knew he really existed per se it would be all too easy. The perfect thing to get rid of a very wanted family member. After all, this was the 1920's, who would notice one more body floating in a river somewhere's or turning up on the banks of the Thames?

With another groan Harry promised himself that he was not going to let himself fall into despair. He was sore, the back of his shirt was tattered beyond repair, but none of that mattered. All Harry could think of was getting away, as far away from the Dursley's and Privet Drive as he could. Now. No matter how, no matter what, he had to leave, and leave quickly. The only problem was...was his uncle foolish enough to leave the padlock off thinking that Harry was probably dead anyway?

Shrugging off the intensely burning pain now in his back, and nearly his whole body in general, he got himself up to a kneeling position slowly. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, a combination of the beating and not having eaten since some point yesterday he now remembered. Grabbing onto a board on the wall that jutted out slightly he propelled himself off the ground finally, nearly losing it as he did so. His head was swimming, his body was now on fire, but a strange glowing warmth flew through him as well, urging him to push on and get out of the shed.

As softly and gently as he could he tested the door of the shed. Thankfully he had oiled it down only a week ago after his uncle had complained at the noise he made when getting the gardening tools. To his surprise and utter relief it seemed his uncle had not locked the door after all, and with a quick glance at the house he felt it was safe enough to step out of the shed. With no candles lit in the kitchen that meant they were probably in the salon doing whatever it was they did together in the evenings since Harry had never been allowed to join them. What it did mean was that they most likely weren't going to budge anytime soon.

Closing the door behind him he tried to get his bearings, nearly falling over a few times as he made his way to the back gate of the house. Again it was lucky that whilst he had been forced into oiling the joints of the shed door, his uncle had made him do the back gate at the same time so as not to waste precious oil later on. His eye fell then on a stick lying underneath the huge tree in the back yard, and he grabbed it up hoping it would suit his purpose. It was sturdy enough and long enough to make a helpful walking stick, for his back he knew was going to be shortly more painful then he probably could endure and would make it more difficult for him to walk without help of some sort.

Without even looking back at the house Harry slipped himself out the back gate, drinking in the fresh crispness of the stilled summertime air. It wasn't hot this evening, but just cool enough, and his new found freedom made even the dullest star seem bright as the sun. Not wanting to risk more time loitering round lest someone spot him and send him back, he moved as quickly and silently as he could away from 4 Privet Drive.

He didn't know nor care where he was going, as long as it was far away from here. He knew that when his uncle finally would realized he was gone most likely he wouldn't even bother to search for him. Vernon would most likely say good riddance to bad rubbish and never once think on Harry again, and Harry was of the same frame of mind. Harry knew he had to get out of sight and quickly, and for the first time in his life that he realised this was the first time he ever stepped more than one foot out of the house he'd grown up in, and he was a bit weary.

In the 16 years he'd been at Privet Drive the farthest he'd ever gotten to go outdoors was the front porch or the back yard. His aunt and uncle had kept him a virtual prisoner otherwise, and now that Harry had the tiniest glimpse of freedom he was shocked to find himself afraid. The thoughts passed quickly however and the more he moved away from the house the more of freedom he wanted.

What little he knew of the outside world was to say the least...little. He knew that Privet Drive was on the edge of the BracknellForest however, and it was now the forest he would take his refuge in for the night. He knew his uncle would never check for him there at night should it be found sooner than later he was gone, mainly since the forest had a reputation for being haunted. Harry however didn't care about that at the moment, to him it was safety, it was heaven.

He made his way through the forest slowly and just as the moon had hit it's peek Harry found a small yet hidden clearing on the edge of the forest, perfect for his use. Wearily he sank down to the ground groaning again at the pain he felt resurfacing. He managed somehow to sweep together a few soft nettles and leaves into a pile and carefully adjusted himself as he lay down on his stomach, the only place he could that his shirt wasn't completely torn to ribbons and it offered some padding from the more sharper nettles as well.

He closed his eyes and began to drift off again, willing his body to fight back the pain and nausea he still had. Somewhere overhead he heard the soft hooting of an owl, and for some reason it made him smile and he began to relax and feel comfort in that hooting. It reminded him of something...something from long ago...a name...a few blurry visions even...but he couldn't remember what. His very last thought however was of something else he now remembered finally. The thing that had caused all this in the first place.

Today had been his 17th birthday. Happy birthday Harry....and what a birthday it had been!