VII. Memoirs of Terror

🙞DISCLAIMER: MENTIONS OF SENSITIVE TOPICS🙜

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🙞 Aldrik Roth Friedmann | [ REDACTED ] 🙜

"Did you know?" The boy asked him, a catatonic expression on his face. In his hands, he offered a book for Aldrik to take.

He, of course, said nothing, merely accepting the book. Immediately, the book's title jumped to his attention - 'Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived'.

He glanced at the boy again, frowning, "Nein."

Curious about the book's contents, he slowly opened it, eyes roaming the pages in silent contemplation. It spoke of a boy born at the end of July, his life anything but simple.

The more he read, the more his scowl deepened, and unpleasant memories surged from the crevices of his old mind.

~ An old radio sounded in the living room, the commentator's voice reverberating across the small apartment. He stood by the corridor, shyly peeking from the door. His parents sat on the couch, pressed together, faces plastered in fear. Reichstag, Berlin's parliament building, had burned to the ground that night. ~

The book's introduction was similar, foreshadowing the coming horrors of the First Wizarding War. A dark wizard was on the rise, his name a curse none should utter. Voldemort, Aldrik had once heard it before. He didn't know much other than that the man had grown into power in Britain during the 50s.

~ Cars honked through the streets, proudly parading Swastika flags as they drove around the city. His parents were packing their things, a tremble in their limbs he'd never seen before. His mother, in particular, held onto a small book as tightly as possible, the Menorah symbol on its cover. ~

The Potters went into hiding, casting a Fidelius charm on their house. The terrorist group called Death Eaters had started openly parading around Magical Britain. People began living in fear, and human decency became a foreign, distant concept.

More and more parallels surged, and Aldrik's frown only deepened.

His mind could not help but wonder, thinking back to the boy's claims of not having caretakers. Harry had displayed outright disgust at the thought of guardians. It was as if the boy had reminisced on a particularly foul memory.

His suspicions that the boy grew up in a No-Maj household only increased, and his head started linking it all. Soon, the big picture formed in his mind, a bitter taste clogging his mouth.

Barbed wire and grey skies flashed in his mind, an old memory. Aldrik remembered the clinical walls, the 'doctors', the ash drizzling in the sky like snow, and the smell of singed hair burning his nostrils.

He eyed the boy again, realising what was at stake. Aldrik knew, from experience, the risks. One way or another, Harry was now a symbol for First-Generation wizards' rights.

If there were blood traditionalists in Britain - which Aldrik doubted wasn't the case - Harry would be a living reminder of everything they despised. The boy would become a target.

The assassination of public figures, he frowned. It wasn't a novel concept to Aldrik. After all, it was a common occurrence in his field of work. He even had plenty of experience doing it. It just so happened that he'd never seen a child put in such a position.

Against the best of his judgement, he couldn't help but curse. A tirade of German curses soon followed, all exacerbated by the scorn in his eyes. He did not care about being understood by the boy anymore.

It wasn't supposed to be that complicated. Aldrik had only accepted to teach the boy so long as it didn't bring him any problems. The extra hand in Potion-Making made up for the time he invested in Harry.

It was an equitable exchange. But, considering the recent developments, such wasn't the case anymore. The boy's life was simply too problematic.

The detriments of Aldrik's teacher-student relationship far overshadowed its benefits. It would be much more prudent to cut ties with Harry right then and there. The boy's resemblance with Aldrik's younger self wasn't enough to move his old heart. Not anymore.

A niggling doubt made him hesitate, however. Unconsciously, he could also see the benefits of doing the opposite. One way or another, the boy would be influential in the future. If not for his status, then for his talent. Aldrik knew it without a shadow of a doubt in his heart.

He eyed the boy again, thinking. His logical side, for once, tried to side with the inkling spark of goodness he still had inside. The boy sat by the wooden table they'd once drank coffee on. Harry looked to be in deep thought, his mind elsewhere.

His limbs lay sprayed to the sides, his mind retracing his steps. With a rising fury, he remembered the many times he thought better than running away from the Dursleys.

The sudden revelation of his past was forgotten into the background, for he had much more immediate concerns. Instead, he focused on the trickle of magic he felt back in Diagon Alley. Now that he paid attention to it, it was everywhere.

Only now had he noticed its presence as if suddenly a veil lifted, clearing his obscured vision. Many memories narrowed into focus, and he distantly realised how much this foreign energy had influenced his life.

It always lurked in the background, whispering. Like a devil peering over his shoulder, it had convinced Harry to not leave Privet Drive. If it hadn't been for Vernon's murderous rage, he would never have broken from its control.

That day, the whisper had grown louder. Just like it did in Diagon Alley. For once, it left the background, becoming noticeable.

And it was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. It didn't behave like Aldrik's magic, or anyone else's, for that matter. It was inhuman, beyond simple magic, like an old force of nature.

"Gör..." Aldrik's voice brought him out of his reverie, "What will you do?"

If only it was an easy question. Since Harry discovered magic for the first time, it had become a central point of his life. All he wanted was to practise it and enjoy its wonder. And do that while enjoying the comforts he could never afford in the Dursleys.

His famous reputation in Magical Britain put a wrench in his plans. It threw everything for a loop.

According to his 'biography', he was the one to have defeated dark wizard Voldemort. And it did not matter whether that claim was the truth or not. If a baby could even achieve such a feat. Either way, such fame came with its risks.

He was a learned boy for his age and knew the hazards of being in such a position. Blood traditionalism was eerily similar to Nazi ideology, and he did not wish to have that type of people vying for his life.

He had no wish to be constantly in the spotlight as well. So, what should he do when Hogwarts finally sent his letter?

'Lily and James...' A distant craving, one Harry kept buried deep inside, crawled up his spine amidst his inner turmoil.

There were so many new things he had to consider. His family's legacy, their demise, the man who murdered them. Above all of it, however, was Aldrik's question to him.

'What now?'

He did not know how to feel. Most often than not, he just rolled with the punches, but he knew one thing without a shadow of a doubt in his mind.

"I won't go to Hogwarts."

Aldrik frowned, about to dissuade Harry, but he was interrupted before he could.

"Not as Harry, at least. I can't go there as Harry Potter. I need to be someone else," he explained.

His words seemed to fill the cottage in the ensuing silence, and his teacher was stunned for a second. The trickle of magic that permeated the air shimmered, sizzling as if wronged - as if things weren't going the way they should.

'Good,' Harry smiled.

Then, Aldrik did something Harry thought to be impossible... he also smiled.

~ His face was clean of scars, his hair blond, cheekbones slightly lower than they should be. The bar he frequented in East Berlin had a unique rustic appeal, adding to the tension visible in the air. Soon, the information broker he'd contacted would enter through the front door.

Anticipation threatened to show on his face, but he kept it restrained to the usual scowl he had whenever he dealt with No-Maj mediators. The last thing he wanted was to get caught as a Maj working with No-Majs. MACUSA agents were in every corner those days, after all. ~

"Sehr gut," the man said, reminiscing on his late twenties. To think he never got wind of the occurrences in Magical Britain during that time, even though he was an information dealer.

It was a testament to how chaotic the world was after Grindelwald's fall and the beginning of the Cold War. There was profit to be made... opportunities to be grasped. The globe was in turmoil, and the Cold War's chaos bled into the wizarding world. Just as it did during World War II.

From then till the Cuban Missile Crisis, even Aldrik himself couldn't keep track of everything that transpired. They were, after all, turbulent times.

"Sehr gut," Harry replied, unaware of Aldrik's introspection.