Work Text:
Harry Potter and the True Story
by Maggie
Chapter 1
Harry Potter lay on his back staring at the sky. He could see the stars shine on him from high above, as dusk fell. Harry could feel the heat of the day seeping away, but knew a warm logy night was to come. Rolling onto his tummy he ran his fingers through the long blades of fresh green grass, marvelling at the texture between his fingers. It was simple things like this that Harry loved the natural world around him. Somewhere he heard the soft hoot of an owl; he could hear the cars on the main road minutes away from Pivate Drive. On the street someone walked past, a gentle breeze encouraged the sway of the branches of the trees. All these things Harry Potter noticed. Inside the house he could hear the television going, Dudley was still out with friends, bullying some poor unsuspecting weakling no doubt. Uncle Vernon was complaining about the news how irrelevant it was. Aunt Petunia was strangely quiet, had been for a while. Harry had been given a regular portioned meal tonight, and he ate every bit. He had not been asked to do the washing up, as Petunia seemed glad of the distraction, almost as if she were pondering some tough decision, what colour to dye her hair next no doubt.
As the night grew darker Harry was having trouble convincing himself to get off his backside and go up to bed. He was enjoying his moment, all to himself. A loud snore from the house was a new clue as to what Uncle Vernon was doing. Harry smirked at the noise, but was shocked to hear someone crossing the grass to his side. His hands were below his head so his wand was out of reach, but he was prepared for quick movement. He needn't have bothered. It was Aunt Petunia, no doubt ready to order him inside. He was shocked to feel her sit down beside him.
"She used to love the stars." Aunt Petunia spoke, shocking Harry. "She loved flying. Of course he done all the flying, him being alpha male and all that but she loved the feeling of the wind in her hair, the freedom. Don't get me wrong, she loved him, but she loved freedom. That's how I like to think of her now. Free." Aunt Petunia went on.
"Who?" Harry asked in a shocked voice.
"Lily. She was a wonderful witch Harry, gifted. She could charm anything, especially a broomstick. I'll never forget the day she charmed Severus Snape's broomstick to fly only upside down. Severus never left her alone, had such a crush on her. He was almost stalking her you know. He left her alone after that."
Harry was now sitting up looking into her face. How did she know about charms, speak freely about broomsticks, and have the knowledge to talk about Snape! "What's going on?"
"Your 17 now, today. You won't come back next year, and if I lose you, I lose her. I can bear to Harry." Petunia cried.
"But...you...how come..."
"Harry. Do you trust me?" Petunia asked.
"Y-yes." he said, looking at her. She looked tired, worn out. But she looked serious, as if this was going to be one of the most important moments of his life.
"I don't want you to be rash. I don't want you to make judgement. I want you to listen, to learn. Think about what I say Harry, because it's very important. The consequences would be dire if you were to react impulsively."
Harry just stared at his Aunt, the last piece of living flesh and blood he had. He nodded tightly to her.
"You weren't meant for Hogwarts Harry, that's why I tried to keep you from it. But I was acting as a muggle and could do nothing to prevent it. You were to attend Drumstrang." Harry stared at her, shocked. "Your mother and father had gone to Hogwarts, but no one wanted you under the influence of that fool Dumbledore. A brilliant man Harry, brilliant indeed, but deeply evil. He will do anything to achieve his goal, no matter what that may be, even the manipulation of a child such as yourself. Now I'm not going to tell you everything tonight. I want to give you clues; I want you to find out for yourself. But know this; Tom Riddle never had a middle name."
With that Petunia Dursley got up and walked away from a very shocked nephew. She stopped at the French doors. "I often find that, if in doubt, write it down."
**
Harry had scribbled the name onto paper over a million times and still nothing jumped out at him. Tom Riddle, it was that, a riddle alright. It was Hermione that was good at this sort of thing, not Harry. He smiled; he remembered thinking that during the Tri Wizard tournament, when he met the Sphinx. The Tri Wizard tournament, when eh faced Voldemort, back to full power. Harry thought about all the times he had come face to face with the wizard, finding the Philosophers stone, in the Chamber of Secrets, at the...hang on. In the Chamber of Secrets, Riddle had wrote his name, then it had rearranged, became more words.....I am lord Voldemort. Only if he didn't have a middle name then he wasn't lord Voldemort...it didn't make any sense. How could Tom Riddle not be Lord Voldemort? Was Lord Voldemort and Tom Riddle two different people. If so then why did they act as one? Harry just didn't understand what was going on.
Dinner that evening was a cumbersome affair, Vernon was angry, Dudley was bored and Petunia was not acknowledging Harry at all. Afterwards Dudley was meeting friends; no doubt ready to graffiti some wall somewhere. Vernon was once again found asleep in front of the television set. This time it was Harry who sought his aunts company.
"Who's Tom Riddle?"
Petunia looked at Harry, she was surprised, and it had taken little time for the boy to work the puzzle out.
"Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle was a politician, very involved in the ministry. Of course he could not be involved in the running of the ministry as he was not part of the winning party. Fudge is extremely left wing politics, you understand. Dumbledore is the same, if not more so. A law onto himself you know. Someday he will have muggles and wizard united. That would be disastrous Harry, for our very social culture would be threatened. Tom Riddle fought hard against these men so as not to let them into places of power. Unfortunately for him he lost, they had convinced too many people that their way was right. Our society is under dire threat Harry, and Tom Riddle is needed to balance the act. If not, I fear the world as we know it will end."
"So it's all about politics. I'm a hero due to politics?" Harry spat.
"No one intended for you to be a hero, least of all father. We wanted to bring you up in a world where your blood would be respected. Tom Riddle does not want rid of mudbloods and he does not was a pureblood elite, what he wants is for everyone to have their place and know their place." Petunia looked at Harry. "You look so much like your father and mother, but you have your grandfather's attitude. He is a smart man, and you are a smart boy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"That Tom Riddle is a completely different man from Voldemort. That he is a wizard and politician. And that he is alive and you know where he is." Harry looked deep into his aunt's face, into her eyes. She looked tired, very tired.
"I'm sorry for what I done all these years. The cupboard really was the best place for you."
Harry frowned. Petunia smiled, secretively.
"I know of your inquisitive nature, you'll figure it out."
***
Harry tired to be quiet he really did. He also tried to resist. What were the chances of his aunt being under Imperio? But something told Harry not to discredit the woman. Something about her manner screamed truth. Something was right about this. And that was why Harry Potter was under the stairs, poking and prodding around with only the light of his wand for help. He was covered in cobwebs, spiders were all around him. He smiled to himself; Ron would have a fit if he were here...
And then he touched it, beneath the bed he slept on for years. A small handle, to a trap door. Below his bed. Pulling it up, Harry thought he might not be able to move it, most likely it had been there for a long time without anyone having opened it. He was shocked when he opened the door effortlessly. A narrow staircase led Harry deep below the house. He wondered where he was going, but he could only see as far as lumos allowed him, and that was only stone walls. The stairs ended eventually, and he met a dark narrow corridor. Harry started out down the long corridor, getting a familiar feeling of anticipation. Where he was going, would he ever return? There were no doors, no light, just dark stone walls and a hard path below his feet.
Harry didn't know how long it had taken him to get to the end of the tunnel, but he came to meet a door. The heavy oak door was centuries old, and the handle, an iron ring, looked as heavy as Harry himself, but again it was surprisingly easy to open. Harry opened it gently, and peeked inside.
The room was round, with four doors, including the one Harry stood in. all the doors looked exactly the same, and Harry was afraid to close the door behind him remembering a room similar to his in the ministry of magic. He needn't have worried, as the door to his left opened and a face peered out form the warmly lit room.
Harry felt his heart fall into his feet, his belly do somersaults. So it was a trap.
That face was unmistakeably the face of one of the most dangerous wizards Harry knew.
It belonged to Lucius Malfoy.
end part 1