1994 Pt.4

"An intelligent man knows that there is no ultimate meaning to life. A wise man knows that he has the choice to give his life meaning."

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AN: If you are feeling annoyed by how everything is written so cryptically then understand that this was my decision. I was info-dumping throughout the previous fic and I feel that it was not the best manner of writing a fic. Also read the chapter notes, they will give you insights on how and why things are being done the way they are.

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[September, 1994.]

Grey clouds gathered over the city of Manchester and rain drizzled down from them in a steady, relentless rhythm.

In the rain, standing beneath the meagre shelter of a bus stop was Paris Warren, her coat soaked, her hands clutching an old, worn photograph of her daughter and husband, Cassey and John. The grey morning seemed to seep into her very soul, amplifying the weight of her worries.

Paris traced the lines of Cassey's smile in the photo with a trembling finger, her vision blurred by tears. "Hold on, baby," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Mommy's trying."

The city's usual hustle seemed muted by the rain, the distant traffic sounds and indistinct conversations drowned out by the constant patter. Paris felt as if she were the only person in the world, isolated in her grief and desperation.

She shivered, not just from the cold, but from the gnawing fear that had occupied her heart. The doctors had been clear: a genetic disorder that was causing Cassay's disease could only be treated via a very experimental type of treatment called gene therapy. Something the NHS medical officers still consider too risky to allow on Cassey. Tampering with human genetics was considered risky and was still too new a field of medical treatments that the use of it on a child who was stable was considered unethical.

Paris had wanted to scream at them. Her daughter was always in pain and only cocktails of strong sedatives and painkillers were keeping her sane. Cassey had begged Paris to save her. To not let her die. That it was aching so bad. And all Paris had been able to do was grasp her little girl's hand and offer empty reassurances that everything was going to be alright. That momma would fix it all.

She had tried everything—loans, fundraisers, she had even looked into selling her kidney, sold what little of her John's belongings were left after his death. Nothing had worked. The money required was too high to even enter the experimental trials for the medication and Paris couldn't afford it without the help of the NHS, who was content to let her daughter suffer because she wasn't actively dying and only slowly wasting away from the damage her disease did to her.

Paris' bout of vertigo paused when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. Paris looked up to see a man in a black coat standing a few feet away, his face partially obscured by the brim of his hat.

"Paris Warren." He nodded at her before taking his black hat off. 

The man—no, the boy, Paris corrected herself—was young. His hair was an uncommon shade of silver grey but did not look unhealthy, as if from age. Paris imagined it was either dyed or just the result of the pollution. His eyes were an uncommon shade of blue too, brighter than any blue eyes she had seen before. The boy, Paris noted, was looking at her with recognition and a solemn expression.

She started at the tone of recognition, and placed the photograph in her pockets before she asked, "Yes? How can I help you?"

"Albert Grey," he replied, tipping his head slightly in greeting once again before he continued and added, "I've heard about your situation. About Cassey."

Paris' heart skipped a beat. "How do you know about my daughter? Did you find out about us from a fundraiser?" Medical records were not public information and the only reason someone would know about Cassey would be from Paris' many requests for support for her treatments.

Albert stepped closer into the shade of the bus stop, his gaze kind as he said, "Yes, I actually donated money to the fundraiser under the name of my company. A thousand pounds for the initial treatment." Paris nodded at his words. She had only four or five donations that had totalled up to fifteen hundred pounds. Nowhere close to the amount needed.

"What can I do to help you, Mr Grey?"

He paused, studying her face as if weighing her strength. "You see, Mrs Warren, I am the founder of a pharmaceutical company called Vitagrey and we would like your daughter to enter an experimental trial for a supplement that my company Vitagrey is developing– OI9. It's shown promising results in early trials against genetic disorders."

Paris recoiled slightly, her heart pounding. "Supplements? Passive garbage that doesn't do anything." she scoffed, her voice edged with anger and fear. Paris was by no means a genius but by now, she understood what her daughter was going through in quite vivid detail. She needed genuine medicine rather than a fake 'supplement' designed to prey on the desperate.

Albert shook his head. "I understand your concern. But this could be her best chance. The only reason we are naming it a supplement is to get around regulations to get it onto the market as soon as possible. However, it will take a few years before we can achieve mass production. The experimental treatments that your doctors seemed to have recommended aren't guaranteed success and could cause a lot of collateral damage to the body, OI9 while experimental has shown enormous potential. Vitagrey is a pretty famous name in the health market. You must have heard about our eye drops and hair growth gels?" Paris hadn't, but the clear pride in the boy's voice was very difficult to ignore.

The rain seemed to intensify, the sound a roaring backdrop to their tense conversation. Paris looked away, her mind racing. Trusting a stranger with the life of her daughter felt reckless, but what other choice did she have?

"My daughter needs gene therapy, Mr Grey. I don't know what game you have got going but I am not an idiot. I know that Gene therapy is very different than a traditional medical drug in how it works." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the downpour.

Albert's expression softened at the anger in her voice and he reassured her. "We deal in curing genetic problems. Balding, Hemophilia, Auto-immune diseases, diabetes, all these are things that we are trying to come up with treatments for Mrs Warren. We can offer tangible proof that this isn't some scheme against you. We have other patients like your daughter in our study. The study won't take long and we are willing to offer money for people to enter the trial. Trust is very important and difficult to build in the field of medicine Mrs Warren, OI9 is our bid to gain this trust from people. We are trying to help you and ourselves with this study."

Paris felt a tear slip down her cheek. Desperation and wariness warred within her mind. She had vowed to do anything to save Cassey. Now, faced with this dubious offer, she had to decide whether she wanted to take a risk like this.

"Tell me more," she said finally, her voice resolute. "I need to know everything about this cure of yours. I have not agreed to anything but am willing to hear you out for the sake of my daughter."

Albert nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Come with me. I can assure you, Mrs Paris, you will not regret this decision regardless of the success of OI9."

As Paris followed Albert through the rain-soaked streets, a glimmer of hope began to pierce the grey clouds of her despair. For the first time in a long while, she dared to believe that there might be a way to save her daughter.

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[September 12, 1994.]

[Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts.]

The flickering candlelight in Albus Dumbledore's office cast long shadows across the room, dancing on the stone walls adorned with portraits of past headmasters. The soft ticking of ancient clocks mingled with the crackle of the fireplace, creating an atmosphere of timelessness and contemplation. Albus sat behind his grand oak desk, deep in thought, when a sharp knock broke the silence.

"Come in Severus," he called, his voice calm yet commanding.

Severus Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing like a dark spectre. His expression was a mask of severity, but Albus detected a hint of urgency in his colleague's eyes.

Albus motioned for him to take a seat. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Severus remained standing, his posture rigid. "Headmaster, we have a situation that requires immediate attention."

Albus smiled at the man before leaning forward on his desk and asked, "Found out about Mr Grey's contemporary history club have you?"

The man gave Albus a curt nod and said, "It was difficult not to. After what he has done, Grey will find it difficult to keep much of his life out of the eyes of people like you. It will be soon that Narcissa Malfoy, Walden Macnair and Avery will contact me."

Albus just chuckled at the disdain in Severus' eyes. For a spy who had fooled one of the smartest men in the world, the man despised playing these mind games with Albus too much. It always amused Albus that the best occlumens in the world had such bad control over his own emotions when he wasn't actively using the mind arts.

Severus seemed annoyed by his amusement but ignored it to ask in a carefree tone, "What are you going to do about this matter? And how do you want me to handle the others?"

Albus' joy vanished at the tone. The curiosity was not something that Albus minded. No, it was the apathy in Severus' tone that put an end to Albus' joy.

Disgust rose within Albus Dumbledore. None of it showed on his face, of course, but Albus couldn't help but take a glance at the man's face. The apathetic face of a man so consumed by love and hatred that he couldn't even bother to care about the life of a child. Severus Snape did not care for the consequences of Niklaus Grey's actions and what harm they may bring upon the boy himself. No, all he cared about was what he and Albus should do to gain some kind of advantage over Tom when he eventually returned.

Thirteen years had passed since they had started to work together and there was never a day that Severus Snape failed to act as a mirror for Albus Dumbledore to see his face in.

'We make a jolly pair,' Albus thought darkly before deciding to give the man his answer. "I will meet Mr Grey in my office after classes end today. And you, my dear potions master will tell the Malfoys and Mr Avery all you know about Mr Grey."

Severus nodded in affirmation without question before asking, "And what about Macnair?"

Dumbledore picked up the deathstick and slowly twirled it within his hand before he said, "The Malfoys and Mr Avery use the death eater charms while Macnair uses the floo in your office correct?"

"Yes."

"Then you will be too busy to take any floo calls from him today. I may have need of the man tomorrow." 

Severus nodded again before getting up from his seat and leaving without any words from Dumbledore. The door of the office shut itself close as soon as the man left it.

Albus sighed, before getting up from his chair and walking towards a cupboard. He tapped the doors of the cupboard with his wand and they swung open, revealing within them a stone basin that had Saxon runes carved into it. Albus levitated the pensieve to his table before using he used his wand to summon a vial from another cabinet.

Albus looked at the silvery strands within the vial before uncorking it and pouring it into the stone basin.

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Author Notes:

EDIT: I had forgotten that the NHS existed and had to edit this chapter.

Drop powerstones if you like the idea of Albert Grey (Niklaus' twin) actively going out of his way to help children with diseases.

As I have stated before, I want to tell a story with this fic. A story about an overpowered character who has to deal with problems that have nothing to do with Voldemort or Magic(I will still worldbuild and magicbuild but it will be done in a non-invasive manner). Ideals, relationships and character development– that is what I will be focusing on.

This chapter is the first one to give the readers actual insight into the deeper nature of the characters. Albert for example is very kind (a consequence of Niklaus always trying to accommodate his needs regardless of what others might tell him) but if you remember from the first chapter's letter to Niklaus. His disdain for his maternal relatives is clearly shown. So he isn't a non-confrontationalist but rather likes to genuinely help people he believes are treated unfairly by the world. Or as I like to say it– "He has a thing for cripples, squibs and broken things." Why does he have this liking for helping people in unfair situations? That will be revealed in the future as it is an important plot point.

Now other than Albert Grey, there are two more characters that we get a deep look into. The first is Dumbledore and the second is Severus from the POV of Albus. 

Dumbledore is disgusted by Snape because Snape is exactly what he himself is. A man who had been so obsessed with control and power that he lost everything that should have truly mattered to him and was finally turned into a hollow husk of self-hatred and broken love. Snape lost his only true friend and Albus lost his whole family because of their respective obsessions. And that turned them into truly perfect soldiers in a war. 

Neither Albus nor Snape is above willingly killing themselves or others for their goals. And that disgusts Dumbledore. The very same disregard for people that lost them everything was the only thing that made them such great fighters against Voldemort. Snape reminds Dumbledore how he will have to become like Snape to take out Voldemort. (Remember there is a very good chance that Dumbledore believes he might have to send Harry to his grave in the future.)