Visions of Darkness

Beginnings (1/?)

November 2, 1981

Somewhere above Egypt

The darkness enveloped the tiny child nestled in the arms of one Severus Snape as he sped through the sky on a motorbike. His destination: Egypt. His mission: To deliver the child to his godmother.

Severus stopped in midair, narrowly missing the blast of multicoloured stars that swept past his face and exploded into thousands of sparkles in the night sky. He moved on cautiously, looking sadly at the baby in his lap. His name was Harry Potter, and he was the Boy Who Lived. On his tiny forehead was a finely shaped lighting bolt cut, caused when a most deadly curse - the Avada Kedavra - somehow bounced off of him and went back to its originator, Lord Voldemort.

How Harry had managed to survive this deadly curse that had killed everyone else it had been placed upon, including the small boy’s parents, James and Lily Potter, was a mystery to the young man; to the whole world. The littlest Potter had survived and vanquished the Dark Lord, and all around the world, witches and wizards were celebrating. It angered Severus, however, that everyone seemed to be forgetting that the young boy, who was most likely going to be one of the most famous wizards in the world, was now parentless. Severus sighed as he pulled to a stop again and watched another blast of colour fly past his face.

He looked down at the child and wiped a droplet of blood from the cut, which had barely had any chance to heal, as it had been poked and prodded by any number of witches and wizards in the past day. Harry opened his emerald green eyes slowly, and blinked sleepily up at Severus. Harry giggled happily, and raised his arms for a hug. A tear slowly made its way down Severus’ cheek as he scooped the baby into his arms and went on slowly. Harry pulled at Severus’ long hair and locked his fingers onto the front of his robes.

Severus slowly descended from the sky as he reached the familiar pyramids of the Valley of the Kings. He pulled into the shadows of the nearest tomb and, with a wave of his wand, the motorbike was a rather magnificent black horse.

He held Harry tightly to his chest as he led the ‘horse’ out into the cobblestone street. It was a cloudy and dreary morning, so no one paid much mind to his black robes as he trotted down the fairly vacant path. He passed several monuments before stopping at the Temple of Osiris. He slid off the horse, tied the reins to a wooden bench near the door, and pulled his cherry wood wand from his pocket.

After looking around to make sure no Muggles were watching, he tapped his wand on the fourth brick over and up on the left side of the large entrance. He looked around once more, clutched Harry tightly to his chest, and slipped through what appeared to be a solid wall.

He had stepped into what was known as Ministry Alley by many wizards and witches, simply because this was the main branch of the World Ministry of Magic. Of course, several other groups and people lived here, including Celestial Mariach – a popular singing Sorceress, Eden Warman, the author of several Dark Arts tomes, and several other rich leaders and celebrities from the Wizarding world.

As Severus walked down the torch-lit corridor, he silently named off the corridors he came across:

British Ministry, first left… The Arab Intelligence Group, fifth right… American Embassy of Magical Preservation, fifteenth left.

He didn’t stop until he reached the twenty-sixth corridor on the left. The name plaque on the marble doorway read ‘Pharaoh’s Crypt’, and bore an engraving of the great Egyptian God, Amun-Ra. Severus tentatively pulled the silver chain hanging to his left, and waited.

After a few tense moments on Severus’ part, the marble door slid open and a portly little house-elf looked up at him. The elf took one look at baby Harry and squeaked, “Follow me.” Severus nodded and stepped through the doorway. The hall was made from marble like the door, and much more pleasant than the dungeon-like passage he had been in moments before. He was led into a large sitting room, and deposited in an ornate wooden chair. The little elf ran off, and Severus was left alone with Harry, who had fallen asleep.

What seemed like ages later – though it was only a few minutes – a tapestry to his left was pushed aside by a tall, dark-haired woman. She was dark-skinned and relatively plain, but her eyes held wisdom far beyond that of her 22 years. She nodded to Severus and swept over to him, holding her arms out expectantly. He carefully set Harry into her arms, and she rocked him back and forth, cooing softly. Severus sat back on the chair and folded his hands nervously. The woman stroked Harry’s soft forehead, being careful not to touch the cut, and sat down across from Severus.

“He is so precious,” she said, and Severus simply nodded. The woman looked up at him, her brown eyes dark with internal pain. “So it is true, Lily and James are dead.” She stated it more than questioned it, but he nodded anyway. The woman stroked Harry’s head again. “Poor child. I suppose I am to care for him?”

“It is Albus’ wish that you do so, Iris.”

Iris nodded thoughtfully. “I had thought as much. What of his godfather?”

Severus stared down at his hands before replying. “I am not sure. Albus doesn’t seem to trust him anymore, though I think I know why…”

“Albus thinks him a traitor?” Iris asked doubtfully. Severus nodded and rubbed his forehead angrily. She stood up and handed Harry back to him. “Well, Albus’ business is his own, and Harry’s is now mine. I will take him and care for him, I’ll even adopt him, but he will know the truth. Am I correct in assuming that Albus wants the boy to know?”

Severus nodded and they sat in silence for a few moments, before Severus stood up, holding Harry carefully. “Albus wishes that Harry knows everything from the beginning, so that it won’t come as a shock later on. He is to go to Hogwarts when he turns eleven – he’ll get the official letter and everything. I must be going, I have things to do for Albus – I had only wanted to see Harry to safety.” He handed the child back to her, and she nodded at him as she shifted Harry to sit comfortably in the crook of her arm.

“Good luck, Severus,” she said, and on impulse gave him a one-armed hug. Severus tensed slightly, but hugged her back lightly, and then left the room, robes billowing behind him. Iris looked at the sleeping child in her arms, and smiled sadly. He was without parents, and far away from any of his blood relatives, ’which is a good thing,’ she couldn’t help but think as she remembered the horrible Dursley’s who were present at Lily’s wedding.

Iris left the room, cradling Harry in her arms. He would grow up with her, and she would love him as if he were her own child. After all, Lily had been like a sister to her. She took Harry to the room that would be his, and laid him down on the large bed. He rolled over, sucking his thumb, and Iris combed his fringe of hair back with her thin fingers, not paying any mind to the single tear that slowly made its way down her cheek, in memory of a lost friend.

* * * * *

September 1, 1991

King’s Cross Station - Platform 9 ¾

Harry Potter nervously flattened his wild black hair down with his hand, clutching his wand in the other. His adopted mother, Iris, was navigating his large school trunk for him, and had stopped just behind him, tapping her foot impatiently. The barrier between the platforms was crowded with witches and wizards of all ages clambering to get onto the magical platform. The large group was forced to go inside two or three at a time, because of all the Muggles milling about, and it was taking quite a while. Harry twirled his wand in his hands and watched impassively as green and gold sparks shot out of the tip.

This was Harry’s first time in Muggle London - he had grown up in Egypt, after all - and was feeling slightly self-conscious. He knew that all of the students must know of him – the famous Harry Potter – and his scar, but luckily, no one had noticed him. To those surrounding him, he was just another face in the crowd.

As the line of wizards and witches moved subtly forward, Harry surveyed the people around him, determining their strengths and weaknesses as Iris had taught him. Ahead of him by several people was a short and round blonde boy, whose formidable looking grandmother was lecturing him about something. Harry watched as he withered under her glare and started fidgeting with the hem of his striped shirt.

‘Strengths… this boy doesn’t seem to have any,’ Harry thought to himself, smirking slightly. ‘He is obviously cowed easily, and has low self esteem.’

He quickly got bored of this rather static boy, and moved his gaze towards a pale girl with a lot of very bushy brown hair, who was hugging her tearful parents goodbye as she stepped up to the barrier. She was calm and collected, not shedding a tear, but marching onwards stoutly. ‘Hm… she is emotionally strong. Maybe a bit too strong. Her parents are obviously going to miss her… she doesn’t seem to care. She’s probably one of those girls who will be locked up in the library for hours, judging by the size of that trunk.’ The girl disappeared into the barrier with a tall black boy, and her obviously Muggle parents left the platform, teary eyed.

Directly in front of Harry stood a tall, blonde man and a small boy who looked almost identical from behind. Both father and son stood with their backs straight and their heads held high, completely ignoring the nasty looks shot their direction. Harry studied them carefully. They were both very good at masking their emotions - that much was clear; both of their faces were blank as a clean sheet of parchment. The boy’s grey eyes were his only downfall, Harry noted, for they showed just how annoyed he was with having to wait. The elder of the two was looking calmly at the barrier, and the only sign of annoyance from him was the slight tapping of his left foot.

When the blonde boy and his father reached the barrier, his father put a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed it firmly. To any other observer, it would appear that the father was being cold with his son, but Harry saw from the look in the boy’s eyes that this gesture was of great importance for him. He nodded at his father, and turned to Harry.

“You coming with me?” he drawled. Harry nodded and turned to Iris. She bent down to kiss his cheek, and handed him his trolley. Harry promised to write to her as soon as he could, and then turned to the boy. The boy smirked and turned to face the barrier, his trunk in front of him. They waited until a large group of Muggles had passed, then they slid forward and stepped through the wall between platforms 9 and 10.

Harry appeared beside the blonde boy directly in front of a large scarlet steam engine. The blonde boy appeared to be apprehensive about approaching the train, and so Harry shrugged and went on alone. He climbed aboard the nearest car, tugging his trunk behind him. The first compartment he found was empty, and without a thought, he went in and shoved his trunk under the seat, and proceeded to sit down, thoughtfully staring out the window.

A large group of redheads appeared in front of the barrier, lugging along heavy trunks and chattering happily. The short and rather plump woman, who must have been their mother, pulled the youngest of the four boys off to the side and started rubbing at his nose. Harry caught a few of the words, ‘Ron, you’ve dirt on your nose…’ and idly watched as she continued to rub his now red nose as he protested. Harry smirked at the boys embarrassment, and chuckled to himself as the boy’s little sister tugged at her mother’s robes.

“What are you laughing at?” a voice behind him asked. Harry whipped around at the familiar voice and saw the blonde boy from the barrier standing there, two great lugs of boys behind him hauling his trunk.

“That boy out there; he’s being embarrassed by his mum.”

The boy went over to the window and a cruel sneer crossed his features when he saw whom Harry was talking about. “That’s a Weasley. They have more children than they have galleons. The whole lot of them are Gryffindors.” Harry nodded slowly and turned from the window. “Do you mind if I sit in here?” the blonde boy asked.

“Go ahead.” The boy sat down and the two big boys pushed his trunk inside and shoved it under the seat, then stood in front of him, as though they were awaiting orders. The boy was a mask of cool, except for his gray eyes, which betrayed his emotions once more. He was nervous.

“Why don’t you two go… see that Pansy is all situated?” The two lugs took a few moments to process that information, before nodding and thumping out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, the boy relaxed visibly. “Those two have been following me around since I was a kid.” At Harry’s blank look, he smirked. “I think my father might have bullied them into doing it. Some sort of protection.” He snorted. “They don’t do much, though they succeed in driving me a bit mental. Can’t string two words together.” He muttered the last bit to himself, and Harry smiled.

The boy seemed to take this as a good sign, for he then held out his hand to Harry. “I’m Draco Malfoy. I’m a first year, I suppose I’ll be a Slytherin.” Draco paused. “You are a pureblood, are you not?”

Harry smirked. “It depends on your definition of pureblood. My father was a pureblood, and his lineage can be traced back to the Four Founders. My mother was Muggle-born, as far as I know.” Draco nodded, seemingly considering him a pureblood. “I am Harry, by the way.” Draco nodded absently, and Harry lifted an eyebrow. “Harry Potter.” That caused Draco to look up at him sharply, his eyes narrowed, silently challenging him to prove it. Harry lifted the other eyebrow and swiped his rather long hair off his forehead, revealing a jagged, lightning shaped scar.

Draco seemed to grow cold and distant. Mistrust shone in his stormy eyes, and by his posture, it was evident to Harry that he had been warned that Harry Potter was coming to school this year, and that the he had never thought it to be the long-haired, green-eyed boy beside him.

As the train slowly pulled out of the station, Harry leaned forward and looked right into the other boy’s eyes. “I know what your father is, and I don’t care, if you don’t care who mine was.” Harry was determined to make a friend out of Draco. The other boy had power, even if he didn’t realize it yet. Draco was still tensed up. “I’ve nothing against your father, Draco.” Draco slowly relaxed. Harry made a mental note to himself to get Draco to be more independent. The boy clearly worshipped his father, and would take nothing against him.

They were silent for a while before Draco asked a tentative question. “So, who was that woman you were with?”

Harry grinned to himself. “That was my adopted mum. Her name is Iris.”

Draco nodded slowly. “Iris Al Simma?” Harry nodded. “My father knows her… he never mentioned anything about her knowing you, let alone adopting you.” While Draco pondered this, Harry turned his thoughts on Hogwarts.

Both boys were interrupted from their thoughts as the compartment door slid open, admitting two red haired twins. Harry immediately flattened the hair around his scar, but it was too late; one of the twins had seen it.

“Sorry,” he said. “Thought it was empty.” Draco stared after them with distaste as one of the twins grabbed the other by the collar and dashed away.

“That whole family is loony,” Draco said firmly. Harry frowned and leaned over to pull out his trunk.

“I’m getting my robes on,” Harry said. “I can’t stand wearing Muggle clothing for long periods of time.” Draco nodded and pulled out his trunk as well. Harry rummaged for his robes, unearthing a cloak to go with it. Both boys changed, and sat back down again.

“I don’t have any preferences,” he replied after a while. “Mum and Dad were Gryffindors, according to my uncle. I don’t think he likes Gryffindors much, though. He himself is a Slytherin.”

Draco smirked at this. “Who is your uncle?”

“Well, he isn’t truly my uncle. As a matter of fact, he denies that he even likes me, though I know it isn’t true. His name is Severus Snape.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin?” Harry nodded. “My father regards him highly. Wonderful with potions. Mum likes him as well, which is an oddity, as she doesn’t like much anyone.”

“So I’ve heard,” Harry mumbled.

“You’ve heard of her?”

“I know her.”

Draco stared at him in shock.

“Your mother was a friend of Iris’. According to mum, she met your mother through your father when they were courting. She visits when your father is on business in Egypt.” Harry paused. “She never mentioned me to you? Or your father?”

Draco shook his head. “Maybe she told my father, but she wouldn’t have told me. She doesn’t tell me much of anything about her personal life.”

Just then, the door opened again, and a plump little witch peeked in. When she saw Harry and Draco inside, she pulled the door open the rest of the way to reveal a cart laden with all types of treats. Harry bought himself a stack of pumpkin pasties, while Draco splurged on a rather large stack of Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills. The two boys paid for their treats and sat in companionable silence. Harry stared out the window, amusing himself as he watched cows pass buy.

The door was pulled open once more, and both boys more or less glowered in the direction of whoever was coming in. It was the youngest Weasley, who had a large smudge of dirt on his nose. Draco smirked and leaned back in his seat as the tall boy peered in at Harry, completely overlooking Draco.

“My brothers said that Harry Potter was in here. Is it you?” He said this slowly, as though he expected to be rejected. Harry just nodded, and casually leaned back, looking at the boy. He fidgeted a bit, looking down at his large feet. Finally, he seemed to have gathered enough courage to speak again. “You are a first year, aren’t you?” Harry nodded. “So am I. I’m Ron Weasley.”

“You mean Weasel?”

Ron turned towards Draco, finally noticing him. He glared at him before turning to Harry again. “I wouldn’t hang around with him, if I were you.”

Harry gave him a cold stare. “And why not?”

Ron gulped. “Erm, well, you see, he’s a Malfoy and all Malfoy’s are bad…”

Draco sat up stiffly. “Have we forgotten that one of them happens to be present?” he asked, icily.

Ron swallowed loudly and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry beat him to it. “I know who he is, thanks,” he replied sarcastically.

Fidgeting nervously, Ron made one more go at it. “Well, I was just trying to warn you… Everyone knows his father was with You Know Who the night your parents were kill… er…” Both Harry and Draco had stood up, wands clenched in fists.

“Get out. Now.” Ron fled the compartment at Harry’s words, and only when Draco slid the door of the compartment closed did Harry relax. Draco was visibly fuming, while Harry had sunk into a stupor.

The subject of his parents’ death was rather touchy with him, even though he had known the truth of what had happened since he was old enough to understand. He was thankful to Iris for telling him the truth, but sometimes, Harry just wished he had never known. He could have gone to school in Egypt, where he was known as Harry Potter, the boy with shaggy black hair who could outfly anyone. Here, he was the Boy Who Lived.

“That Weasley needs to think before he speaks,” muttered Draco. Harry nodded and sighed.

Draco smirked. “I don’t know him, but his entire family are Gryffindors, so he will most likely be one as well.” Harry had nothing to say to this, so he just stared out the window.

Harry started counting the cows and sheep that they passed. When he had reached 721 cows and 534 sheep, the compartment door slid open again. Wearily, Harry turned around watched a small girl slide in, her bushy brown head whipping back and forth, a stern look on her face. Draco and Harry watched in surprise as she rushed in and sat across from Harry, next to Draco, who didn’t look too pleased with the arrangement, and folded her hands over her chest. Harry realized that she was the girl from the train station who had left her parents without shedding a tear.

“Have you been fighting? I heard from that red-haired boy… Rick Wesley… Roland Weasel…”

“Ron Weasley?” Harry asked. Hermione brightened.

“Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, he said that you two were causing trouble, and I came down to see what it was.” Her chest puffed considerably. “I’m Hermione Granger by the way. I’m a first year. I hope to be a Ravenclaw, I hear they are smart.” She said this very fast.

Draco settled back into his seat and scrutinized her from the corner of his eyes. Harry managed a weak smile. “I’m Harry, this is Draco.” Draco scowled slightly as she turned her inquisitive brown eyes on him. “We’re both first years as well.” Harry paused. “We haven’t been causing trouble, if it’s any concern of yours.” She looked rather miffed.

“Weasel started in on us and…” Draco glared angrily at her. “Why am I explaining myself to you?”

Hermione shrugged. “Have you seen a toad anywhere? A boy named Neville lost his.” Harry and Draco both shook their heads. “Well, I better keep looking. I was just up front and the conductor said we’d be there in about ten minutes.” She flounced out, closing the door behind her.

“That was odd,” Draco said, after a while. Harry just nodded. “I wonder where Crabbe and Goyle went…”

“You mean Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

Draco gave him a look. “Who?”

Harry sighed. “Muggle movie.”

“Oh. A Muggle movie.” The way Draco drawled it, Harry thought he sounded like he was saying a really nasty word. Harry just nodded and looked at the boy whose calculating grey eyes were fixed on Harry.

“My aunt has a thing for them. I prefer the wizard kind, but when she is around, it’s all Muggle.”

The blonde boy pondered that for a few moments, before standing up and stretching. The train had slowed to a stop. Harry stood up and straightened his robes. Both boys stepped out into the corridor, and exited the train, side by side.