Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's or Rowling's peoples, places, etc; I only borrow them. And I do not have any profit from it - it's only a projection of my imagination, no matter how strange (or anything you thought) it might be. And be aware that I might not update for quite a while - being a 12th grade science student took much of my time studying for Exams.
Critique will be appreciated, though. :)
It was a very, very, extremely rare treat for him that his uncle and aunt took him along into a family vacation, which was a place somewhere near the shores of England. After all, he was sure that he, the freak of the household, would always be left behind and unwanted during either vacation or celebration of the sorts. Like during the times that his uncle had ordered him to clean the house spotless until they got home from the family vacation, which was a great relief and a great disappointment for him in the same time. Indeed, he might not be treated badly for his relatives weren't home, but he never knew the new experience had he go to see new places.
"I told you Petunia, we'll see the sea for this time! The shores of England, just like me and Dudley had seen in the TV, which is simply perfect." Uncle Vernon said, grinning smugly before glaring at him through the rear-view mirror as he drove. "But why is it that we have to bring the freak? Surely that Figg can babysit him like usual?"
"Vernon, Mrs. Figg had claimed that her cats had some virus that she just has to take care of them by herself since she was worried that the freak will get those viruses. As if he isn't full of diseases enough!" Aunt Petunia scoffed before turning to Dudley who had a fit. "Now, now Diddykins, don't bother the freak! I don't want you to catch his disease."
"Why didn't we just drop him at our house until we got home then?" Vernon glared at the road.
"Don't be silly, Vernon. I don't think we should trust him run around in our house without any supervision, or Mrs. Figg like usual, at least. Lord knows that we need to keep him in line instead of running wild. And in our house even! Besides, our neighbors are starting to be suspicious enough."
But still, the freak, Harry was happy. The sea, as Uncle Vernon said! Well, he never seen the sea before, except for those pictures from Dudley's books that he rarely open and torn, as a result of being in the care of the fat child. The soothing sound of which waves crashing into the coral reefs, he had only barely heard from his cupboard whenever Dudley open the TV with some channel about the sea. By the sound of it, the sea sounds so beautiful, much more beautiful than the house and the cupboard he was always kept in. And he didn't know if he deserved to see it.
Uncle Vernon kept on saying that he didn't deserve anything, and he took that to the heart. Maybe all of this was just a dream, but hearing from Dudley throwing a fit so loud inside the car and the pain from him pinching himself, he was sure that this wasn't a dream.
In a fit of excitement for 'vacation' from his home that was so similar to prison that not even the most burdened 6-year old child was immune to, Harry looked at the scenery with wide eyes, silently taking in everything: the darkening horizon of which he thought he can almost see the shore, and the beautiful, wide green meadows beside the road. But Dudley took notice of it, and informing his parents about such – which resulted in him having to be silent and blindfolded by Aunt Petunia after being yelled at the puce-faced Uncle Vernon. He felt a wave of disappointment, but he forced his face to be neutral in fear of his uncle. After all, in his uncle's household, he was worthless and didn't deserve the shelter he was given by his relatives, as far as Uncle Vernon concerned.
It felt all too soon – which was about a few hours later – that Uncle Vernon stopped, none-too-gently opened the blindfold, and forced him to bringing the Dursleys' things that they brought for this vacation without any help from the older man. But Harry was used to it, even though his energy was gradually getting weaker due to no food during the journey. He wasn't allowed to eat when they stopped for a restaurant before he was given the blindfold. But then, he usually was given so little food; not that he had said anything about it, though. Little Harry was also given a time limit of which he had to bring all of the Dursleys' bags into the house he had seen, and he wasn't fast nor strong enough to lift them.
"You little freak! You're supposed to bring all of these into the house! That's it! No dinner and go sleep outside where you belong!" His puce-faced uncle had yelled.
At least, Harry mused, it was great that Aunt Petunia allowed me to bring my blanket. Even if the said blanket he had brought was tattered due to it was an object of Dudley's possession, Harry was glad that he had something to shelter him from the night, and hopefully from wild animals that might be dangerous. He didn't think that wild animals might warm him more than the Dursley though. Except from wolves, maybe.
He, as was ordered, stayed outside of the house, looking at the sun setting over the sea. The sea was indeed beautiful, and the location of the house was lovely, actually. While it wasn't located on the shore he had thought of, it was located on a cliff and faced the west. But it was such a lonely place; he hasn't found any clue whether or not people actually live there. The steep position of the cliff had made the house seemed almost unable to house any living being; as a haunted and an abandoned house, even though the house was quite new.
He sat near the edge of the cliff, his blanket was covering his very-small-for-a-6-year frame against the cold night of the unfamiliar place, silently watching as the gentle golden light of the sun was finally gone, and the stars had set themselves into the sky with their silver lights, illuminating the quiet beauty of the sea. And he also watched as the moon slowly set himself on the sky, higher and higher. He listened to the gentle lulling of the sea, it was almost as if the sea was singing him a lullaby.
So focused was he on the scenery, he never noticed the unsubtle steps of another 6-year old behind him. But as he fell asleep, he had thought that he heard Dudley laughing gleefully that was similar to his game of 'Harry hunting' and the last thing he saw was the sharp edges of the rocks down the cliff. He hoped this was a nightmare before the blissful unconsciousness had claimed him.
Dudley Dursley was 6-years old, and his parents always dote on him while setting aside the freak of nature of his family, which was his cousin from his mother's side. He never questioned upon why the freak was treated in such ways, but his mother and father always stated why: because he was a freak and unnatural, of which Dudley was natural. It was a fact.
He considered himself as a smart boy, just like his mother told him – whereas he always got low marks on his lessons at school. Well, he considered them as useless on life lessons that he always taught the freak, so why was it that he was supposed to know? He had also considered himself as a responsible boy, just like his father told him. He had, after all, kept the freak from having friends so that the freak can't spread his freakishness to unfortunate people. But sadly, he had broken all of his toys because of his uncontrolled measure of power since he always used them on the freak's lesson. Not that he actually use them; he much preferred TV and video games that all else were worthless.
But what Dudley didn't really know of – with his 'excessive' knowledge upon life – was that people actually die, just like the cats from Mrs. Figg's household he tortured at times; just like the usual, normal other 6-year old. And much more dense and violent than the usual normal children, even though he didn't know about such, and his parents had ignored that fact.
Being a 6-year old, obese child he was, he had thought initially that he had taught his freak of a cousin lesson about life by pushing him from the cliff. The freak could come back later or tomorrow for his parent's chores for him, after all. Just like the freak always do. But even if the freak didn't come back, he would say to his parents that he get rid of his cousin for them. It's a no-lose situation for him, and it will be the freak's loss and his gain. He can get his freak of a cousin's undeserved food!
His parents will be proud of him, he was so sure! They hated the freak as much as he did.
With a severely off-tune hum of music he had heard from the TV, he went towards the house that will shelter him for a few days later of vacation.
"Mom! The freak fell from the cliff!" Dudley said happily, walking towards his mother in the kitchen.
Petunia paused from looking through the refrigerator. The freak had left their lives by jumping off the cliff. While she was happy that he was finally gone, but didn't that kind of method of removing himself from the household was extreme? But no matter. "That is good, Diddykins! Tell your father about it!"
"I will!" Her son went to search for his father in the house.
Petunia hummed and made a thoughtful face. Well, the freak Potter was the son of her god-forsaken sister Lily, and she and her freak of a husband was murdered by some person called the Dark Lord in the community of freaks. The headmaster of Lily's old school had put the freak in front of her house when she was going to take some milk for her precious Diddykins, without any warnings and without any person who would actually explain to her about what actually happened; the freak was alone inside a basket, covered in a baby blanket that has a note attached to it. That Dumbledore had the nerve of expecting the freak be in their house, and not to put the freak in some orphanage.
The freak was nothing but a burden in her house. He had over-cooked and under-cooked many, many, uncountable food that was assigned for him to cook. He had broken some of the cooking pans, and he had cut some food material with uneven amount. He hadn't been able to clean the bathroom thoroughly; imagine what kinds of diseases her Diddykins can get within the unclean bathroom! He hadn't able to paint the fence properly. He hadn't able to weed the whole garden and made the shape into what she wanted to win the gardening competition in the neighborhood.
He had the nerve to cry just because of Dudley playing with him. He had the nerve to ask for glasses as he claimed that his eyesight was bad; didn't he know that they were expensive for a freak? He had the nerve to score higher score than Dudley in the school they had allowed him to come! And that cheek with Vernon!
And now the freak had disappeared by his very own actions!
A nasty smile had made its way on her face. Oh what a glorious day! This called for a celebration!
She then went towards her ecstatic husband and son to inform that they would have to tell the freaks, had they actually come, that he had fallen from the cliff during their vacation, and that they have spent many days to search for him – which was not true at all. But of course, what choice do they have within the freak's business? They can finally have the normal life they wanted, with some small acting to the freaks. She was confident that her favorite boys can do so.
She promised to her Diddykins that he will have presents when they got home, and she didn't care how much it would cost her, for it was her Diddykins who had given the good news.
And of course, her Diddykins deserved every inch of talent he had displayed in front of his parents; his magic was better than all of the freaks anyways.
He had chosen this path to walk near his house, as soon as he had felt that the sea was calling him in a way that was different than its usual call. The call felt distressed, and not luring like its usual call. It was just that different that he had the urge to sing to calm the distressed call, as his songs usually calm the sea, his long-time companion. He had wondered what had happened that the call of the sea was like that. Was it the Lord of Waters needing some help and took pity upon him? It was most unlikely.
He didn't know that this very day would change his future – a future he had thought that he would wander alone near the shores until the world was remade. And he would probably never knew that the Star Kindler was smiling down at him from her dome of stars, nor Lady Weaver weaving a tapestry of a small family – one with him actually smiling widely for the first time since many Ages. He had never known that today would be the day to start healing his soul, although it was very much overdue; he had done things that was considered a great sin of many people, although all of them weren't of his own doings, rather because of him following the lead of his father and his older brother – people of great ambitions.
After half an hour of walking in the same pace, he had seen what had made the sea to call him in such way. A small part of the sea near the shore was red, painted by blood. If his sight wasn't mistaken – and he never wrong – he was sure that there was a small body floating on the sea. And with the sea calling in such way, he knew he had to save the body and not let anything happen to the body – had the body wasn't deceased already.
He ran while he discarded his clothes – they were great handicaps for him if he had to swim, just like every other clothes, except for the swimsuit that mortals had created – and swam towards the body to discover that it was a body of a small child that seemed like a 4-year old boy that was as thin as stick. Well. It wasn't the time to observe, and he would like to save people if he was able to do so. His guilt had ensured himself to do that, every time.
He gently pulled the boy's body towards the dry shore he had came from, and tried to do such thing quickly, to avoid the blood loss the child will probably have; while the sea has its own beauty, the sea would be dangerous in such situations, and this was one. The child was bleeding all over, he mused as he checked the child's body, he must have fallen from a cliff somewhere since no sharks nor any sea creatures would bite like this. But as he tried to slow down the bleeding from the child's body, he had seen old marks that were suspiciously looked like the child was subjected to be whipped by using a belt.
It was a miracle that the child had once stopped breathing for a few fearful moments and finally breathes again, in his honest opinion. He had given many hours to tend to the injuries (he had brought the child to his small abode nearby), and he was forced to give his own blood to the child; the child had lost majority of his own blood to the sea, as his heart had pumped his blood so poorly and in low pulse that even he can barely feel. The potions for blood from his friend shouldn't be used in such a critical condition – the boy wasn't stable enough to drink something from vials. He hoped the child wouldn't mind; his blood was probably filthy due to his deeds.
It would be interesting though. The child was probably the first mortal to receive the blood of the First-born without being born to one of the First-born.
The child had suffered before he had appeared on the sea in front of him. While he knew that mortals these days had discipline for children, he certainly believed that it wasn't brutal like this; the belt marks almost covered the boy's small body. But still the child survived, even from after fallen from a cliff. The child's soul should be strong, as not many people who were tortured had wanted to live like this child, even if it was unconsciously.
Speaking of which, he had felt something – bad – from the child's scar. He frowned. He almost missed that, had it not because of his sensitivity and experience with dark creatures. He would need to consult with his friend about this.
He felt his heart wanting to reach out to the child, to raise the unconscious child as his own.
Perhaps a change was in order.
Dumbledore was baffled. In order to make the old wizard to be baffled was a feat actually, no one had ever actually managed to do so – not even the Weasley twins with their outrageous jokes.
He had put a tracking spell to the boy he had given a way so that the boy will grow up and ready to face Voldemort. But suddenly the tracking spell stopped, in its place, it told him that the boy had died or ceased to exist a la the parchment he had spelled so that he would know the condition of the boy. What in Merlin's name had happened with the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter? Surely he must be safe within his muggle relatives?
He then took it to himself that he will visit the Dursleys.
But when he came back to his office later in the morning, he found himself severely saddened and disappointed. Harry had indeed, didn't know of his wizardly heritages and disciplined in a way that was supposed to be very bad for a normal child's health. But it was for Harry's safety – namely, the Blood Wards. But he died due to him fell down from a cliff somewhere, and his relatives couldn't find his body after days of searching. Understandable, since the sea was wide and deep; and a body can be eaten by some water creatures within, and never found.
He heaved a heavy sigh.
Gone was the hope of the Wizarding World, now that Harry's gone missing, and died. Perhaps Augusta should be informed that it was his grandson was the only hope for the Wizarding World against Voldemort when he came back.
The Wizarding World will be in a state of chaos, had this small and important information got out to public. He hoped they will never found out so soon, or suspect anything once he had chosen Neville Longbottom as their Champion.