One Step Ahead

Year One: The Secret Chamber

Chapter 1

The light exploded outwards in every direction. Up, down, left or right – the words lost any meaning as the destructive power turned everything upside down again and again. Glass shattered, walls crumbled and furniture was incinerated as the light swept across the house. The car, which was coming up the driveway to the house, was thrown off the road and slammed into a nearby house.

In the center of a magical maelstrom was a little child. He was ten, but looked much younger. At the moment, he had his eyes tight shut, attempting to control his outburst so that he wouldn't harm anyone. He had outbursts before, but never something as massive as this. He didn't know where they came from and never was completely able to control it. However, this was a third day since the Dursleys went to spend the weekend with aunt Marge, leaving him locked up in his cupboard and he wasn't sure how much longer he could survive without water and use of a restroom. Now, escaping a cupboard was rather easy, considering that it didn't have a door any more. Nor any walls. Not even a ceiling.

"I am in so much trouble" – Harry muttered.

(())

Mafalda Hopkirk really disliked her job. Not that it was boring – it was actually fascinating to observe the enchanted map of the magical Britain. Nor did she have a problem with superiors or coworkers, since she really had none. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day observing a map, sending letters to underage magic-doers and noting them down for DMLE to take care of?

No, the problem was the job itself. Mafalda sincerely liked children and hated to be the one to punish them for something so minor and relatively harmless. Especially, since she knew that the law was greatly biased against the muggleborns – nobody else's homes were placed under Trace, after all.

Suddenly, a loud screech erupted from one of the silvery instruments on her desk. This one was especially designed for muggleborns, who have yet to receive a letter from Hogwarts. The purpose of the instrument was to warn the obliviator squad about a possible occurrence.

"Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging" – read Mafalda Hopkirk. – "Level Eight emergency. Oh dear, I guess I'd better warn the obliviators fast."

(())

Richard Proudfoot was aiming to be an auror, but with the recent budget cuts there just were no open spots. Even the Hit Wizards were already fully staffed. It was an incredible disappointment for the recent Hogwarts graduate. Fortunately, the new Head Auror Amelia Bones promised to save a spot just for him.

As a result, he was working as a part-time obliviator and found himself liking it. It wasn't the auror office by any means, but some of the situations the obliviators were called in were absolutely sidesplitting hilarious.

Unfortunately, there was nothing hilarious about their current predicament. Level eight emergency meant enormous amounts of destructive magic were thrown around and possible fatalities. The only reason the obliviators were called before the aurors was because the source of magic was a child and a muggleborn child at that.

So far, their observations confirmed the dire predictions. The center of attention, obviously, was on the house that was completely leveled. The squad already put up some muggle repelling wards and were modifying the memories of those who already saw the disaster strike. Apparently, gas leak was the year's favorite.

On the sidewalk was an upturned and slightly squashed car. Inside was the first fatality in form of a very large beefy man with skull fracture. A thin horse-faced woman and a young boy who looked a lot like the dead man were in critical condition and quickly portkeyed to Saint Mungo's.

Richard was the first obliviator brave enough to walk into the wreckage. The destruction was fairly impressive – even steel didn't survive the explosion. He was thinking that the muggleborn who started the whole thing would be among the fatalities. From magical exhaustion if nothing else.

The obliviator took another step and almost jumped five feet into the air. While he didn't shout: "It's alive! It's alive!", he came pretty close.

The boy he almost stepped on opened his startlingly green eyes and looked at the obliviator.

-Hello. - Said Richard, blinking. The child blinked back and promptly passed out.

-I need some help! - The man shouted, drawing attention of his colleagues and kneeling by the boy's side. Thankfully, he was still alive, though there was something on his face. Brushing the fringe from the child's forehead, Richard stared.

-By the gods, - muttered another obliviator. - It's Harry Potter!

(())

There were advantages to hanging around that spineless, nay even boneless, blustering self-important waste of space that was called the Minister for Magic (Minister of Magic, muggle-lovers insisted on called him) Cornelius Fudge, Lucius Malfoy reflected. And this was a big one.

-I am sure that as soon as he gets out of Saint Mungo's Hospital, Mr. Potter will require a proper home and a caring family. - He interrupted the reporting auror.

-Quite right, quite right. - Muttered Cornelius, watching his largest campaign contributor nervously. - I am sure we will find someone.

-But he already has... - Frowned the auror. Dawlish, wasn't that his name?

-A proper pureblood wizarding family with enough funds to prepare him for his role in society. - Lucius rolled right over the auror, hinting heavily. Dawlish and Fudge had similar uncomprehending looks on their faces. Lucius briefly wondered if they were related to Crabbe and Goyle.

-Maybe I should ask Albus if he knows any... - Muttered the Minister. Lucius' eye twitched.

-A family that already has a child his age. A family whose British wizarding roots go to the Norman Conquest. A family with a whole mansion in Wiltshire to raise a child.

-Huh? - Replied the dazed and ever eloquent minister.

-The Malfoy family, you...minister. - Lucius barked out, pushed to the ends of his patience. - Auror, bring the child to my home and give this letter, - the head of the Malfoy family briefly scrawled his instructions, - to my wife. Meanwhile, Minister and myself will deal with the Wizengamot.

Both his companions nodded, relieved to finally have instructions, and the brutish auror left.