Chapter 1: The Potter Retreat Cycle
Harry Potter was lay in the bed at #12 Grimmuald Place counting down the seconds to his fifteenth birthday. He'd been doing this since his eighth birthday by asking his uncle for a watch so he would know when to start cooking their meals, Vernon, of course, struggled with this decision as it would involve spending money on his nephew. In the end, well-timed meals won out. The reason for this tradition is because the only time he was able to celebrate his birthday was as soon as it started, and it continued because it was tradition and he felt it was his way of starting his birthday right.
With 20 seconds to go and Ron's continuous stream of snores keeping him awake Harry started his countdown to the midnight Harry started to feel magic building around him, swirling and twisting around him, making his veins burn with power as He'd never felt before. Then suddenly with a loud crack and a startled yelp from a gangly redhead Harry Potter was gone.
^~0~^
Harry landed on his face in a much lighter room than he had just come from. In a second he was on his feet with, wand in his hand. Six days earlier his godfather had caught him sleeping with his wand in hand in hand and had told him he's likely to take in head off in his sleep so had given him a black family basilisk skin wand holster, stating he "had enough black blood to use one".
He started scanning his surroundings for danger when a deep voice complimented him.
"Nice reflexes"
Spinning around he saw a portrait with a handsome, stoic man with messy brown hair and hard brown eyes eyeing him critically, and a beautiful woman with black hair and soft blue eyes smiling at him warmly. Noticing there was no danger he turned his attention completely to the painting.
"Who are you and where am I?" Harry said.
The couple seemed to frown at that as if they didn't think that was what he was going to say.
"You should know the answer to both of those questions," The man said, "did James and Lily not tell you this?"
It was Harry's turn to frown. He was not surprised and then knowing who his parents were, he was well used to that, but at them thinking they had ever told him anything he could remember. Thinking for a moment he realized he couldn't be sure how old these portraits were.
"What do you mean?"
"Your parents, they were supposed to inform you what all of this is and why your here"
Harry was extremely unsure how to proceed, he'd never had to tell anyone he was an orphan before. "umm, my parents died when I was one"
They both went stiff and the women gasped softly, starting to cry. The man remained stoic as if he had just locked down all of his emotions, but at the same time, his eyes held intense and restrained sorrow. He wasn't expecting this. He thought he'd get solemn looks and sympathetic smiles but not... grief.
After a few moments of silence the man spoke up, his voice cracking the whole time, "well then, I suppose introductions are in order, my name is Charlus Potter, and this is my wife Dorea Potter nee-Black, and we're your grandparents."
^~0~^
At Grimmauld Place, emotions were all over the place. Albus Dumbledore found himself confused, he was worried, of course, Harry was the closest he had to a grandchild. But he couldn't understand the magic at work here, he felt the power radiating from the boy's bed and the room itself but he did not recognize the magic at work. Sirius Black was busy thinking about how he might have failed to protect his godson this time and that Lily really was gonna kick his arse when she sees him. Molly Weasley was being her usual frantic self, bustling around fretting about Harry in between making meals for everyone. She and her son, Ron, made quite the team as he currently stressed eating everything the Weasley mother hen was cooking. Though he did look pale.
Hermione and Ginny were both looking very worried. Hermione was worried that her brother in all but blood would be harmed where ever he was or worse he was already dead. Ginny was along the same lines but also disappointed that she may never kiss the boy that she's held a torch for since the summer after her first year.
"I not sure what to say," The aged headmaster finally spoke up. "What I can tell you is that I do think that he is ok" At this everyone looked hopeful. "all magic gives off a sort of intent residue where you can tell why the magic is cast if you know where to look, and this magic seems to have been done with good intent. What I can't fathom how he just disappeared" Frustration and confusion was a strange look for the headmaster "it's as if he dis-apparated or portkeyed with how quick he left but with the wards that should be impossible and the magic residue is much different, stronger"
"Albus Dumbledore, if your wards have put that boy In danger, Merlin help you, I will make you regret the day you were born"Mrs Weasley threatened.
"Molly I assure you where ever Harry is he is in no danger, the magical residue seemed like family magic and I know for a fact Voldemort does not have any"
"That doesn't do much for me Albus" Sirius reprimanded "I want to know he is safe and have him back here where I can keep him safe"
"I feel the same way Sirius but my hands are tied right now I am at a loss for what to do"
Sirius was running his hands through his hair now, racking his brain for a solution.
"Well if he isn't in any danger then he might be able to reply to the letter so why don't we just send one. Hedwig is definitely his familiar if anyone can find him it's her."
"I know her the best, she's always staying the night at my house so I can send a reply back to harry because I don't have an owl of my own" Hermione said rushing down the stairs to where they keep the owls.
"Hedwig!" said owl did not take kindly to being shouted at "Harryismissingandweneedyoutotakealettertohim" luckily Hedwig is a very smart owl and completely understood the distraught girl and after she had written a note on some parchment asking if he was ok and to write back, Hedwig was on her way.
^~0~^
"I probably should have let you down easier than that, sorry I'm just not used to anyone not knowing what happened to my parents"
The couple took a few minutes to process this information they heard, and come to grips with it. Harry wasn't sure what to do in this situation, he never thought that he would have to console someone over his own parent's deaths. Never mind the fact that they are literally only made of pint and magic, does that mean they have feelings? he decided that he would just stay quiet for a while let them have their silence.
It was his grandmother who finally found her voice
"So my grand-nephew raised you then, Sirius, he was always such a sweetheart at least you had a good upbringing"
It was almost as if she was begging for it to be true, he almost thought he should lie. It was sad
"Sirius was framed for the murder of twelve muggles and facilitating my parent's murders. He spent 12 years in Azkaban"
The looks of utter horror on their faces made him wish he had lied and now he just wished the floor would just swallow him up.
It was once again several minutes before one of them spoke again.
"What about Alice Longbottom, she was your God-mother," Charlus said " I always liked her, she had could resolve and the drive to back it. A good person"
Harry took a few seconds to debate whether or not to tell them, but he could see they thought something was wrong. Likely because of his hesitation.
"I found out this year she was tortured to insanity along with her husband shortly after my parents died in an effort to locate Voldemort"
Charlus was now holding his wife while she quietly sobbed into his robe, while he buried his face in her hair, clearly seeking comfort and some sort of sense of stability in the action.
Some time passed and Harry just sat on the floor and waited. Around twenty minutes later they both regained they're composure and turned to look at the young man in front of them.
"It seems you have a lot of explaining to do" Charlus finally said "how about you start at the beginning, and don't lie, the wards in the room will let us know"
And so he did, he told them how he grew up, his cupboard, his overbearing clothes, his lack of food and the rare back-hands his uncle gave him for when he made a mistake or something else. He moved on to his school years, speaking of his wonder of the magical world and Voldemort's attempt at to steal the stone, him defeating a basilisk, onto his reunion with his godfather and Pettigrew once again escaping. And finally, on to his fourth and hardest year, he went through every task and how he prepared for them, his spat with Ron and the disastrous yule ball. The events of the graveyard were the hardest to get through, but they remained patient and sometimes smiled reassuringly.
By the end, Charlus and Dorea were feeling a large range of emotions. Dorea's motherly instincts were kicking in and she desperately wanted to hug her grandson and tell him it going to be ok, especially when he talked about his childhood and seeing his parents in the graveyard.
Charlus, however, was feeling two main things. Fury and pride. Half of his mind was focused on how his grandson, the heir to the potter line, his own flesh and blood had been degraded, neglected and hurt his whole life and if he were still around...heads would roll. But then he feels pride. He feels proud of his grandson because despite all of this he is still a nice young man. He's proud because instead of giving up and running away he took everything life could throw at him on the chin and is still here, alive. He's proud because he knows that this young man will take the potter name to new heights and he will make it through this war and be an unstoppable force.
"I think we should explain what you are doing here," Charlus said "this is what is called the potter retreat, and you'll be here for the next 6 months."