Beyond the Horizon

By Spork and Foon

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Author's Note: I apologise profusely for the wait. With schoolwork, the unexpected gift of Harry Potter Quidditch World Cup on X-Box, the loan of Medieval Total War on computer and real-life, I have been distracted. Hopefully the inspiration for the next chapter shall appear soon, and thus, hopefully the next chapter shall appear sooner than this one did.

Thank you to the always proficient pingpong5 for beta-ing this chapter. Without her, this train would never leave the station.

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Chapter Three: Of Potion Masters

The lustrous motorcycle gave a low rumble as it travelled over the bright, glistening lights of Bristol. The colossal man who was riding the motorcycle gave a loud grunt, and his eyes darted towards the precious package he had bundled in his arms. Surrounded by layers of blanket, slept a small boy, only a few months older than one. He had a small mop of messy black hair and if his eyes had been open, they would have been a startling green. A thin lightning bolt shaped scar was the only sign of the turmoil and tragedy he had been involved in tonight. It was the only remnant of a curse that had been aimed to kill.

"It's 'right, 'Arry," murmured the giant. "It's all gonna be 'right."

As if to prove this, he stepped down on the accelerator, and the motorcycle let out another low rumble. With surprising speed, it disappeared into the black that was the night…

"Welcome from the Land of Nod, Harry," murmured Albus Dumbledore, as the petite boy's eyes fluttered open. "I trust you slept well."

Harry nodded, still half asleep. He glanced around the room where he had spent the night, and found his eyes widening at the unnecessary extravagance. He was lying in a four poster bed, which could fit at least six of him comfortably. It was adorned by red and gold furnishings, though Harry did not know the significance of these colours. The floor was uncovered stone, which radiated a feeling of iciness, but was countered by a thick, fluffy rug. A large window graced one wall, causing streams of light to illuminate the shadows. An assortment of bedroom furniture, such as a wardrobe, was scattered around the room, adding to the feeling of lavishness.

Albus watched as Harry's eyes widen as they roamed the room. He smiled, amused with his charge. "It is time for you to get up, Harry. We need to go to breakfast, and I must say I am feeling particularly famished. There is nothing better than a good sleep to make one feel hungry"

Harry looked at him solemnly, as if he was worried.

"What is wrong, Harry?"

"Well – I don't have anything to wear – in front of – important wizards and witches." His voice held a certain reverence as he said the last three words.

"I see. That can be managed."

"How, Pa?"

"Harry, am I not a wizard? Transfiguration just happens to be my field of qualification."

"Transfiguration? What's that?"

"Transfiguration is the altering of one object to another, such as making an animate object, inanimate, and vice versa. Some Transfiguration spells only alter a part of something, such as someone's ear changing from normal to rabbit ears. It is a very difficult form of magic."

"So you can change my yucky clothes, to nice clothes?"

"It sounds so simple when you put it that way, but yes, that is the gist of Transfiguration."

Harry jumped out of bed, elated. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Dumbledore suppressed a smile, and he pulled out his wand. He studied the small, malnourished boy in front of him, and murmured something incoherent. Harry felt his clothing tingle, and he looked down, to find himself clad in a black robe.

"Thank you," Harry murmured, his eyes sparkling.

Dumbledore took Harry's small hand, and led him through the many corridors of Hogwarts. Left, right, middle, right, right, left… Harry lost count and all sense of direction, and was absolutely sure, if it weren't for his new Pa, he would be hopelessly lost. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they walked through a large pair of opened doors. Harry gasped with delight. The hall was enormous to the small boy. His eyes wandered everywhere, relishing in the privilege he had been given to see such brilliance. The roof was sky blue, and scattered with clouds in varying sizes and shapes. Dumbledore saw Harry staring at the ceiling, and smiled. It was an awe-inspiring sight.

"It's bewitched to depict what the sky looks like outside," Albus told him.

Harry smiled happily, and followed the Headmaster towards the table. His step had a certain bounce to it, which Dumbledore had not missed to notice. It appeared that even after such a short time in the presence of his own kind, Harry was more content than he had ever been. They reached the table, and Harry smiled shyly at Minerva McGonagall, and blatantly studied the other professors. His eyes quickly passed over a number of the professors, and until they landed on an unpleasant looking man with rather long black hair, shrewd beetle black eyes and sallow skin. The man's eyes locked with his, and Harry suddenly felt as if someone was delving into his soul. He ripped his eyes away, and stared absently at the roof.

"My dear professors," declared Albus, "I have an announcement to make. It appears that Harry Potter has come to stay with us, indefinitely." At this announcement, a few of the professors unashamedly strained themselves to get a better view of The Boy Who Lived. Harry blushed, not entirely sure why they were so eager to see him properly. "I forbid anyone to ask Harry any questions about his past," continued Albus, though now his voice had a warning edge to it. "Am I understood?"

Each professor except for the man with sallow skin nodded profusely, and Dumbledore's eyes narrowed on the one person who'd refrained from nodding.

"Severus, do you not understand what I am saying?"

"Oh, I understand Headmaster, I just do not agree."

Dumbledore frowned. "Why do you not agree, Severus?"

"Well, if the boy," at this, he stared openly at Harry, his eyes trying to pierce the barriers into his mind, "is going to stay here, he will be a liability."

"A liability!" Dumbledore scoffed, as if he could not believe what he was hearing. "How ever did you come to that conclusion?" His eyes were twinkling, just asking Severus to try and worm himself out of the tricky position he had placed himself in. He was good friends with the Potions Master, but sometimes his lack of common sense and arrogance grated on Albus' nerves, and so he took a few privileges with the friendship to take Severus down a few notches.

"No one can deny that a number of wizards and witches who were Death Eaters would love to extract revenge on the Boy Who Lived. I am concerned that other students could be harmed if such an attempt was to happen. Potter is a liability."

The tips of Dumbledore's mouth once again faced downwards. "I do not think this is the correct time, place, nor company," he said, glancing at Harry, "to be discussing such things, Severus. I will speak to you later."

Severus glowered, but he muttered darkly, "Yes, Headmaster."

Dumbledore led Harry to a seat next to his, sat down, and motioned for Harry to do so also. Harry seemed torn for a moment, and then obliged, seating himself down gently on the seat. His eyes widened when he finally processed what he was seeing: a table laden with more food than was undoubtedly necessary for a small group of professors. Scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, bacon, fried mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, toast, cereal and more. Albus took Harry's plate, asked him politely what he wanted, and filled his plate to the brim, making a light comment about how he needed fattening up. He placed it in front of the boy, and told him sternly to eat it all up. Dumbledore talked briefly to Minerva about where Harry was to stay permanently, and turned back to find that Harry had not eaten one bite of his breakfast.

"Are you not hungry, Harry?"

"Well, I am hungry – but – you see," The Boy Who Lived began bashfully, as his cheeks began to flush red, "well – I don't want to – be eaten."

Albus Dumbledore spluttered, causing the indecently large mouthful of scrambled eggs he had just taken to fly everywhere. Minerva McGonagall grimaced, and wiped her face delicately with her napkin, while Severus Snape glared darkly at the boy who had caused the splutter.

"Eaten? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, in the story Hansel and Gretel, the witch fattened Hansel up so she could eat him!" cried the nearly hysterical child. He sniffed with the air of a boy greatly troubled. "You have been very kind to me, Pa, but I still don't want to be eaten! I'm too young to die!"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts finally understood why Harry had the irrational fear of being eaten. "Harry, no one here at Hogwarts is going to eat you. If anyone even thinks about eaten you, which I doubt will ever happen; they will have me to answer to. Now, eat up your breakfast, and then I'll show you around the school."

Harry nodded eagerly, and quickly gulped down his breakfast, taking as few bites as possible. He practically licked his plate clean, and showed it proudly to his Pa.

"I didn't believe until this day that a human could inhale food. It seems it has been proven otherwise," quipped Albus, smiling broadly at his young charge.

"Can we go now, Pa?" begged Harry enthusiastically. "Please?"

"If we must." These three words began an onslaught of curious stares from the other professors, wondering what young Harry Potter had said to make the great Albus Dumbledore, allegedly the most powerful wizard in the world, mutter these words.

Harry cheered eagerly and stood up, grabbed a handful of the Headmaster's robes, and virtually pulled him out of the Great Hall.

"Where to first, Pa? Can I see some more magic?"

"I believe the library will be a good place to begin, and yes, if you are good, you may be allowed to see some more magic," coaxed Dumbledore smoothly.

Dumbledore took Harry's petite hand, and led the boy through the bamboozling corridors of Hogwarts to the library. They walked into the abandoned room, as there was not a soul in sight, and Harry's mouth dropped in awe. Never, in his entire life, had he seen so many books in the same place. Shelves filled in the brim with dusty volumes filled the room, as well as the occasional plain wooden desk and set of chairs. Light filtered in through a series of mediocre windows, which illuminated the thin layer of dust that covered nearly everything.

"Are there any fairy tales?" questioned Harry, his eyes roaming over the various titles of books.

"Not that I know of, but we will have to ask Madam Pince, the librarian, to know for sure."

"Can I see some magic?"

"I will only do something simple, Harry, as I do not think this is the place for pretentiousness." Albus drew out his wand, and uttered "Lumos." A vivid light appeared, and Harry stared at it with youthful curiosity. Dumbledore then said "Nox", and the light was no more.

"Can you please do some more, Pa?"

"I will perform some later, Harry. As I said before; the library is not the place for showing off."

After receiving a negative answer in his question, Harry's attention wandered. "Can we go somewhere else now, Pa?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled faintly, and nodded. "I think it is time for you to meet Hagrid."

Dumbledore uttered this name with the utmost respect, even though, to Harry, it sounded like the most unusual and silly name he had ever heard. It was sillier than 'Duddykins', which never failed to send Harry into hysterics.

"Who's that?"

"Hagrid is the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, also known as the groundskeeper, but personally I think 'Keeper of Keys' just gives the position just that little something. It – spices the name up a little."

Harry tilted his head slightly, pondering these sentiments, and followed the Headmaster out of the library, and through the maze that was the halls of Hogwarts. At last, after what seemed to be an eternity to Harry – but was more like ten minutes – the pair were outside, striding towards Hagrid's quaint wooden hut. Smoke rose steadily from the chimney, signifying the occupant was indeed at home. Dumbledore pounded on the door, and whoever was inside threw it open fervently.

"Headmaster!" it cried. "An' yeh brought a guest! Please come in!"

The person – if it could be declared a human and not a giant – had a shaggy mane of hair, which covered his entire face except for his black, beady eyes, which glittered like beetles. Harry looked up at the man, and felt his neck slowly becoming stiff. Hagrid led them into a room that consisted of everything, including the kitchen sink! He motioned for them to sit down at the wooden table, and started to make tea.

"This, Hagrid," announced Dumbledore proudly, "is Harry Potter."

Hagrid's eyes widened, and the half-giant studied the Boy Who Lived. "'Arry Potter, I ain't seen yeh since yeh were a little one. Yeh sure have grown. Yeh look just like yeh dad."

The fact that this man had known him when he was little mesmerised Harry, as he had insufficient memory of his years before the Dursleys. All he had was an occasional memory, here and there. Suddenly, Harry's thoughts flew to the dream he had dreamt the night before, and his eyes widened.

"You're that man – on the motorcycle – in my dream," exclaimed Harry, his eyes staring adoringly at Hagrid. This man was the first memory he had, and the only complete memory of his life before the Dursleys. He sometimes remembered snippets, like 'Padfoot', 'Moony', 'Wormtail' and 'Prongs', but these words by themselves made no sense whatsoever to Harry.

Hagrid chuckled, delighted. "Yeh remember me."

Albus was watching the exchange, amused. "I do fear I am at a loss as to what the motorcycle was. Could you remind me, Hagrid?"

"Well, Headmaster," began Hagrid, with the air of a man who had a great number of stories to tell, and not enough people to listen to them, "after I got 'Arry from his ruined house, I met Black." This name was muttered with the paramount of contempt, which shocked Harry as he could not imagine the giant, no matter how large he was, wanting to even hurt a flea. "He asked if he could take 'Arry, and I refused. Then he then gave me his flying motorcycle, and told me to use it to get 'Arry ter safety. 'Arry must remember the trip."

"Who's Black?" asked Harry, staring at Hagrid, taking in the organised chaos that was his saviour of his life once before.

Dumbledore heaved a sigh that only a man with many burdens could sigh. "I don't think it is the time for me to tell you such things Harry. But, I will eventually, when you are ready, I promise."

Harry concurred submissively, surprisingly. Hagrid laid the tea and cups down on the table, as well as a plate of rock cakes. He poured the tea, and sat down, and the three wizards, one great, almost at the end of his journey; one expelled, regretting his lost opportunities, and one a beginner, just drawing out of the station that was learning, just sat, enjoying the carefree afternoon in each other's company.

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Severus Snape prided himself on being a complex, unpredictable man. A man that had convinced the Dark Lord he was loyal when he was most certainly not, a man that had endured the taunting and humiliation of the Marauders during his entire schooling, and a man who was firm in his convictions and beliefs. Severus Snape was no follower, but he was not a leader either. He was a scout, a solitary figure who may have been a leader in a past life, but circumstances in this one had made it not meant to be.

But his hatred of everything and anything Potter was purely simplistic, and rather animalistic.

Severus Snape loathed anything remotely Potter with every fibre of his being. It blinded a generally rational man, and it was this that Albus suspected had spurned Severus to object to what the Headmaster had asked of him and the other professors. Albus studied the man sitting in front of him. A brilliant Potions teacher he was, but he seemed a failure in the other aspects of life. With a frown, Albus began to speak.

"Would you like some tea, Severus? Or a lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Headmaster."

He poured a cup of tea for himself, and took a prolonged sip.

"What is it that concerns you, Severus?"

"I am concerned for the continuous safety of the students, which will be in jeopardy if Potter is allowed to stay here."

"Is that the only reason why you objected to Harry staying here?" pushed Albus gently.

"No," replied the Potions Master sharply.

"The fact that Harry is James Potter's son has nothing to do with it, then?"

"Most certainly not."

With a sigh, the Headmaster conceded. Severus Snape was not about to open his heart to the man who had brought his nemesis' son to Hogwarts. "Hogwarts is open to all those in need, including eight year old boys who have the remaining minions of the Dark Lord they vanquished out for their blood. Harry will remain at Hogwarts as my ward and if I find that you are acting inappropriately towards him, the consequences will be great. Do you understand?"

Snape gazed defiantly at the Headmaster and muttered, "Yes."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Severus. It would do you well to remember that. Close the door behind you as you leave." Dumbledore focused on the pile of paperwork in front of him that had accumulated while he had been spending time with Harry.

With an expression of bewilderment, the Potions Master left the office, closing the door behind him.

Albus Dumbledore drained the remains of his tea cup and wished solemnly that life had been easier on the bitter soul that was Severus Snape.

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Last Updated – 20th of April, 2004

Replies to reviews (alphabetical order):

athenakitty – I would love to answer your second question, but I can't. As to the last two, no, I seriously doubt Severus is going to warm up to Harry, and the only time Severus will be teaching Harry potions is when Harry actually starts at Hogwarts, and Severus is forced to.

ER – Thank you.

Felix the Cat – I love echoes, even ominous one. Well, here is the next chapter, and only three days after your review! Sadly, because of the reasons stated above, it is also a month after the last chapter. I swear I am going to try harder next time to be as quick as possible!

Lady Zee – Thank you for your review. In reply to your comment about Harry's speech being too mature for an eight year old, I would just like to say that I agree. It is far too mature, but I have done this on purpose. Harry was forced to grow up quickly at the Dursleys, and hence, he is far more mature than most children are at his age. Also, to Petunia and Vernon, Dudley's lisp would have been adorable, but Harry's would have been just plain irritating. I have no doubt that they would have scolded him about his speech, and thus, he would have strived to change it. Harry is far too mature, but as this story progresses, I plan to have Harry open up more and more, and become more like a typical magical eight year old.

paradox01 – You are far too kind. I only did what desperately needed to be done.

pingpong5 – Howdy! waves fervently Brilliant job beta-ing! Mmm … why did I change Albus' nickname? Well, to me, as Albus is going to be a parental figure to Harry, Pa just seemed a lot more appropriate than Albie.

Rocky235 – Talent! You think I have talent! And you weren't forced to say that! Gosh, that is more than any of my friends and family say about my writing. Consider yourself my new best friend!

Rosaleen – Aww … your review made me feel all warm and fuzzy. The ending is ominous, but it is necessary for the plot.

Skyshifter – Potential … I like it!

Talamh – I love AU's as well. There are other stories where Harry is raised by Dumbledore, such as HandMeDown Clothes by Quillitch, and there are other stories in which Harry is raised by McGonagall, such as A Tabby and Her Kit by uber grasshopper. Both are well written and extremely enjoyable.

xkristy101 – Well, here is the update! Aww … you think this story is great! Shucks!