Book 01

- Of the Sightless Series -

Mysterious Ways

DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Warning:

I'm going to seriously butcher the characters' personalities and other attributes (Appearances, abilities and alliances). Not your cup of tea? Then leave! Also know, that while I'm making Snape look hot, he'll keep his biting sarcasm, wit and biased perspectives. Fun! The majority of this story will be written in first person (Harry's point of view) instead of third. There will be some third person point of views (about other characters) though, but will sometimes be interrupted by the narrator (To give history or describe something in detail). There will also be many magical theories. Not your cup of tea? The go away!

SUMMARY:

SLASH. SSHP. After year 2. Read full summary inside. Series Rewrite. Blind Harry. Secret identities. Super powerful characters. Not hurt and comfort.

FULL SUMMARY:

After his first year at Hogwarts, Harry returns to the Dursleys expecting to face the regular abuse he has hidden for most of his life. However, unbeknownst to Harry, he's just stepped into a death trap. Infuriated by Harry's apparent magical talent and Harry's developing similarities to Lily Evans, the Dursleys in their final revenge, blind the boy, in hopes of preventing him from returning to Hogwarts. They then abandon him in an orphanage. For the rest of the summer, Harry tries to contact his friends, but doesn't receive a reply. Abandoned and angry he runs away, only to be found by Dumbledore. Dumbledore, horrified at what the Dursleys had done takes Harry in. Adopted by Dumbledore and under Dumbledore's tutelage for a year, Harry (under a new identity) returns to Hogwarts for his third year. However, some major changes have begun within the school.

WARNINGS:

Homosexual pairings, Heterosexual pairings, Alternative Universe, non-canon, Out of Character, Original Characters, SEXUAL CONTENT, explicit language, violence, some blood and gore, changes to appearance and lineage, creature inheritances, super powerful characters, original creatures, child abuse, mentions of incest (nothing graphic)…

FUTURE PAIRINGS:

Severus Snape/Harry Potter

(Most Likely not until the sixth year or seventh year. This first part of the series covers third year)

The mind works is mysterious ways or so it has been said. Is it truly mysterious or is it what we can not accept? Do we deny our thoughts, our emotions, our hopes and dreams? The answer is yes! As much as we deny it, as much as we proclaim we're the masters of our own minds. We are not. He are the products of our fears. Fear limits us, controls us and shapes us. Every human fears. From man to woman, from woman to child. We fear. And that is what we are defined by.

How is this possible? An example – one may have doubts about their sexual preferences, but because they fear rejection, they do not explore these possibilities. So they will never know what may have come of it. Experience creates individuality among other attributes. Everyone fears something be it big or small. Yet we can not stop these thoughts, these doubts and these fears.

What we can control is who we make ourselves into.

PROLOGUE
I recline among the rocks on the private beach that my mentor and adopted grandfather, Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore, possesses. I listen to soothing crash of the waves against the shore, a perpetual battle of water and earth. The water is slowly eating away at the shore line making the soil into a rock crag. I find peace listening to these sounds. In the past, the blue waves and bright sun would comfort me, but I have lost the use of my eyes. My name is Rowan Dorian Brain Dumbledore. However, I was once named Harry James Potter.

The story of my former identity is by far an unpleasant one.

I was but a child of four, when I first received a beating. Fist and feet flew at me a such velocity that it shattered my bones. My attacker, my own Uncle, my family, wounding my fragile malnourished body. I was regularly staved and beaten. I was belittled, isolated and broken. My room was a small and dingy cupboard under the stairs. I am an orphan. My aunt and Uncle told me that that my parents had died in a car crash after one too many booze. This was a lie. They were murdered and died protecting me.

Sometimes, I'd dream, I'd dream of a vivacious red headed woman with emerald eyes and a vicious protectiveness and love for me. I dreamed of a man with messy black hair and hazel eyes hidden away behind thick framed glasses. He adored me, obsessed about me and loved me unconditionally. I now know they're my parents.

In my little world composed of back breaking chores, school in which I was forced to hide my intelligence, in my cupboard and in my books, I was alone. Always alone and lonely. I was lost in a black of abyss of emptiness. With no real reason to continue in life, but for a silly little hope of salvation.

My salvation came in the form of a letter. It was a letter from a prestigious school called 'Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry'. I was and am a wizard. After much conflict I was allowed to attend. After a year of new experiences and creating myself into who I always wanted to be. I came back to the Dursleys only to find that they had stewed in their anger and fear of my abilities. For once and for all they sought their final revenge. Since they couldn't squash the magic out of me or more accurately beat the magic out of me, they were determined to rob me of a more fundamental ability. The ability to see.

By taking this basic ability they hoped to have me banned from Hogwarts, ruining my dreams and hopes, but they soon learned their mistake. When they took my sight from me, I became a dead weight in their household. So with innumerable threats of bodily harm if I spoke about their transgressions they abandoned me in the orphanage.

Throughout all of this I had hoped to contact some, someone to come save me. I would later discover that my friends, those who I implicitly trusted had thought I was seeking attention with false accusations.

I was at the orphanage for two weeks when I had enough of the lavished pity and the extreme measures they used to comfort me and gather information about my attackers. They got nothing out of me. While I was angry I was still incredibly fearful of the retribution that would be made for divulging my attackers' names. In the muggle world I had no one to protect me

After those two initial weeks I ran away. About a block away from the orphanage I ran into Granddad. After hearing my horrifying confession about the treatment the Dursleys had put me through, he immediately contacted the ministry. The Dursleys were arrested. Dumbledore maneuvered around politics to adopt me secretly. I consented to changing my name and Granddad planned, after the closed trial for the Dursleys, to change my appearance by interchanging my mother's latent genes with my fathers. Along with adding some of the Dumbledore genetic qualities through a blood binding ceremony.

The ceremony and spell did indeed change me on a fundamental basis, it almost inverted my appearance from father to mother. My raven hair turned a wavy, yet silken auburn with copper highlights. The Dumbledore blood added gold highlights to my hair. My skin was as pale and flawless as newly fallen snow. James' hazels eyes were defeated by Granddad's pale blue. Mum's almond shaped eyes won over both males. Along with this the combination of mum and granddad's faces left me with a very angular face. To both my Granddad's and my shock I received a heavy influence on body structure from mum and granddad. Essentially I became very delicate and petite. A few brown freckles dotted my nose giving me a childlike appearance. Most shocking of all was that my curse scar, that identified me as the-boy-who-lived, had begun to fade and we hadn't the foggiest why.

I've lived under the identity of Rowan for a year so far. Granddad and I decided it would be best to give me a year to adjust to being blind before I attended Hogwarts again. Some how it was leaked to the press that I or rather Harry Potter's guardians had been arrested for child abuse and abandonment. The conflict within the Weasleys' household was apocalyptical. It seems Ron had told his mother to ignore my letters and convinced her that from his experience with me that I was attention seeking. Ron had the audacity to not own up. He still called me attention seeking.

Hermione on the other hand had been devastated. Under Ron's influences she had taken his word for it and also ignored my letters though she had doubts over Ron's sincerity. Fate is fickle. I did not keep in contact with anyone. Dumbledore under my request told the Weasleys and Grangers that I had been adopted by a loving family it was unlikely that I would be attending Hogwarts for some time. And I most certainly didn't want those who had broken my trust to contact me.

The only other living soul that knows Rowan was once Harry Potter is Professor McGonagall. It took me only four months to learn to read Braille. I also learned to bewitch a quill to copy notes in Braille. Furthermore there was a spell to read words that were not in Braille to me. I also learned to move around independently. To both Granddad's a my shock we soon realized I could sense magic and thus we began on adapting dueling techniques (with Mad eye Moody's assistance of course) and wand less magic. Minerva helped with my education. I persuaded Auntie Minerva (A Professor McGonagall had me call her) to teach me to an Animagus after I tired her out of all levels of transfiguration, curses and Charms she knew.

There was certainly a surprise with that course of study. Seems I have three animagus forms and all three are magical creatures. Being a magical creature animagus is a feat in itself, but to have three forms was seemingly impossible. I was an Ash Winder, a Night Phoenix and a Thestral. Destruction, purity and death all mix into one, one would think this was an oxymoron is one examined death and destruction as bad. But the intent of the wielder is the deciding factor between good and evil. Death and destruction can be good. Like the Archangel Michael, both a pure and destroyer (Source: Wikipedia).

My studies continued. After I'd mastered the basics of wand-less magic (and was too continue on my own), advanced transfiguration, charms and a collection of curses, I expressed an interest in primarily potions, but in addition magical creature languages and magic. Surprisingly enough a Goblin who happened to notice my interest contacted the Lord goblin over the London branch Fiefdom, who contacted his superiors and with a little nagging go permission to educate me in Goblin Magic, the Goblin version of Occlumency and Legilimency as well as Languages/Dialects. So word spread through coincidences, personally I though someone was intervening, but that's my paranoia, and so I was learning the basics of Vampire, Veela and various other creatures' languages and magic.

Finally the summer before my would-be third year at Hogwarts after working privately to detect different potion ingredients and learn the basics of reactions, substitutions and preparation I asked Granddad if I could be tutored in potions, but I gave him no pressure. With an indulgent chuckle, he said he would. And too my dismay be contacted the proverbial bastard, but undeniably attractive Hogwarts Potions' master, Severus Snape. The man agreed albeit reluctantly. My lessons are to start soon. Professor Snape doesn't know my true identity or of my disability yet. Granddad made it a requirement of my advanced education that I must explain and prove to my Professors that I was not an invalid. I know he's trying to subliminally make me help me see passed my disability. And I will reluctantly admit that he's an expert of human nature.

Chapter One
Severus Snape
Severus Snape was an embittered man. He was a man of values and morals. He could be brutally honest and say he had made many mistakes in the past, which he felt he could never atone for. Most prominent among his acknowledged mistakes and the one most devastated to him was the death of his best friend, which he inadvertently caused with divulging a prophecy to his power hungry master, the Dark Lord Voldemort. Lily Evans, his best friend, his confidante, died because of his mistake.

The only piece of her left was the green eyes in face of the odious child of James Potter, Harry Potter. It was because of those eyes, staring at his accusingly, that he protected the egotistical child. But if he had looked closer at the young boy, he might have found another reason. Harry Potter was so much like him.

Now, looking back at the memories of this particular student, he couldn't help, but flinch at every belittle word or action he took against Harry. The boy had been the victim of severe abuse, he, himself a victim, couldn't imagine. Depraved of the simplistic pleasure, needs, and tenderness, care, loved and overall a childhood, Harry like himself had adorned a mask. While he chose to isolate himself, hiding behind animosity and bias, Harry chose to hide his turmoil and fears behind the façade of the Golden Child.

Perhaps more difficult was that, while Severus could be himself, Harry was forced to adapt to rigorous expectations and wants. A figurehead, a hero in eyes of the public and also an escape goat. Severus couldn't imagine the pressure Harry had faced.

With an over dramatic sigh, Severus extracted himself from his reminisces and gathered his supplies. Albus had asked the Severus come tutor his adopted grandson. A pure blood wizard, who had been abandoned in an orphanage after a conflict that permanently disabled and ostracized him. Dumbledore had implied that the boy would be attending Hogwarts this year and had barely any previous education in potions. Severus was expecting a spoiled and sulky brat. Honestly what else would one expect of Albus's golden children, especially the Weasley boy, Ronald. Of course he had been wrong about Harry, but that was only one mistake among a multitude of correct assumptions.

Unbeknown to Severus this would be a second false presumption. He was going to get a shock of his life.

Rowan Dumbledore

"Rowan!" Granddad called me. "Severus is here!"

Rousing myself from my position among the rocks, with a flick of my wrist my cane sprung open to its full length. I made my way up the beach using the cane to detect the slope and sharp rocks in my path.

If Harry had been able to see he might of seen the shocked look of his old potion masters' face.

Upon reaching the small veranda, I stepped easily in front of the potions' master and held out my hand. "Hello, my name is Rowan Dumbledore." I said pleasantly enough.

With an obvious sneer in his voice the potions' master said snidely, "Mr. Dumbledore, how do expect me to teach you when you can't see the material we're working with. Potions is a dangerous subject—"

"Don't underestimate me, Professor Snape," I ground out, "Let me prove to you I can be adept if not potentially promising student."

"You have a high opinion of yourself," the man said snidely completely forgetting about either my relation to his employer of Granddad's presence. Fortunately on Severus's behalf I could sense my granddad's wicked amusement.

"With good reason." I answered sharply, "Do not judge me until you know me. Professor Snape, it is wise not underestimate one. Unless you have ample proof don't judge a person's ability or personality. It could get you killed." Severus sucked his breath in harshly. He assumed correctly that I knew of his previous profession as a spy. Granddad had divulged this to me when at first I was convinced that Snape was trying to kill me. This assumption was derived from the false accusations and misconceptions that spouted from my former best friend's mouth.

With a scoff, Severus whirled around and headed towards the small potions lab that Granddad had set up in the cellar. I followed after him, momentarily pausing to pluck up a quill and scroll so I might take notes in Braille. The introductory was repetition that nearly had me laughing. The effect was ruined having heard it once before and since I had gained the upper hand over Snape moments ago his intimidation effect was completely ruined.

"You're here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." He began, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses… I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Quickly tell me what I'd get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood." Snape demanded.

"It makes a sleeping draught so powerful, it is known as the 'The Draught of the Living Dead'" Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"And where can I find a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat."

"What is the difference between Monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're the same plant, which is also named aconite."

I was hard pressed to laugh at his attempt to discredit my claims with the very questions he taunted me with in my first year, but I kept silent my face expressionless. I dear say I did struggle to keep my amusement out of my voice, but ever the spy the man must of known for his tone took on one of frustration.

He had me then brew a complicated healing potion for a sprained wrist or ankle. Using the instructions in my book I selected the correct ingredients by the smell alone. I muttered under my breath the property of each ingredient, but paused when my hand reached for flubberworm guts. "No…" I said, just loud enough, though certainly not on purpose, for Snape to hear me, "it would be more potent if I added crystallized frog skin and it would neutralize the effect of itchiness. However, crystallized frog skin is a common allergy among students causing swelling and sinus discomfort. But if I add a drop of sunflower oil, I could potentially neutralize that allergen as well.

He remained silent, wondering if I could really complete the potion.

I had learned not so long ago to keep record of time subliminally. I relied on that skill to known when to still my cauldron. The completed potion was perfect. With a peculiar stick I registered the color as the correct one. "Done." I said with a note of finality and relief.

"Perhaps you're not as thick as you seem." Snape said. I had to hide my smile. I was willing to bet that was closest any non-Slytherin student had every got a compliment from the imperious Severus Snape, but then again I had yet to be sorted as Rowan Dumbledore.

TO BE CONTINUED