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Toonie\'s Love	By : SpeedyTomato Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius Views: 50453 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and make no money off this story.

Chapter List
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Toonie's Love

By Speedy Tomato

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and make no money off this story.

Summary: Watching her nephew being drawn into the same mess that her sister had been, Petunia had enough. What she did gave Harry a chance to get out. Now, at 21, he's someone no one recognizes with a life he adores. Then he comes back to Britain. That's where it all goes wonky.

Beta'd by the amazing Tenchi. Love you, woman, you're the best!

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Prologue

Reading over the letter he finished to Sirius, Harry looked at the huge, exotic, brightly colored bird that was resting, perched on the back of the chair to his desk. Thankfully, Sirius was safe somewhere. If he guessed right, it was probably somewhere warm and nice. Good! After all his godfather went through he deserved to be somewhere nice. Sighing, he looked over some of this, like telling the man about his scar hurting and the short flash of a vision, debating whether he should tell him or not. Before he could decide, though, he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Brow furrowed, he listened then relaxed when he realized it was Aunt Petunia. That was normal by now, something that had happened quite a lot over the summers since he started Hogwarts.
Smiling a little as he thought of his aunt, Harry supposed it was funny that so many hated her and thought he did too. That sure wasn't true. She had appearances to keep up with Vernon and Dudley, but she didn't hate him the way most assumed. It had just taken him time to figure that out was all. At first, it had been small things, like sneaking him food in his cupboard then giving him some toys. There were soft touches and other things that led him to believe that what she showed to others wasn't what she felt. Then, after he got his own room, she would come in to visit him late at night to just talk. The conversations were stilted at first, but they were better now. He actually really liked talking to her. She let him tell her all about what was going on and would give him wonderful advice. That always made him feel better. The only thing that bothered him was that he couldn't do much to help her. Uncle Vernon—he didn't treat her really well and sometimes hurt her. Dudley never knew, but he did because he would hear it at times when in his cupboard or see the marks. She told him in a firm tone to let her handle it, the kind you didn't argue with, but he wanted to.
Looking up as there was a soft rap on the door then it opened, he folded up the letter and leaned back against the headboard as she let herself in.
Glancing at the huge bird warily, Petunia sat down on the foot of her nephew's bed and asked, quietly, “A letter from your godfather?”
“Yeah,” Harry told her. Grinning as he glanced at the bird, he said, “I don't know where he is, but I assume, from the look of the bird, it's a nice place. I'm glad for that.”
Nodding, Petunia looked at Harry then sighed softly, shaking her head, “Harry, there is something not right about this situation.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, brow furrowed. As they had talked about a lot of what was going on in the Wizarding World, Harry was more than willing to listen to her because she had a perspective he didn't on so much.
Shifting around and crossing her legs, making sure her dressing gown covered them, Petunia sighed, “I won't even get into how wrong it was that he didn't get a trial. That's not something anyone can undo. Right now—Harry, your lot has ways of detecting more than we do so you can't tell me no one would believe you and your friends when you say he's innocent. Even our courts take the word of children in so many matters. In this one, they would as well. Of course, they would need other evidence, but there are enough people that saw this Wormtail person that most would listen.”
Looking down at the bed, Harry thought that over, not sure what to say. Confused, he looked at his aunt and waited, wondering where she was going with this.
Looking at her nephew, Petunia reached out and brushed his messy bangs off his forehead then said, “I loved your mother, Harry. I admit that I made many mistakes with her and the jealousy overrode so much when we were young. That's something I regret now. I miss her every day. I know I can't fix what was wrong when she died, but what I can do is help you. That's what I want to do.”
“You already do,” Harry told her softly. “More than anyone would ever know.”
Smiling slightly, Petunia said, “More than what I do now. I don't like this, Harry, none of it. Something is wonky in what's going on. I know you're trying to do the right thing and help. It's—no. You're so young. What you need is a chance to grow and thrive, not being drawn into this mess. Adults need to handle it. Though, from what you said, it sounds like that's what they tell you, but their actions show differently. So much of this shouldn't have gone on. Like the part with your godfather. If Dumbledore knew he was innocent, he should have done something, not sent two children to handle it.”
Not having thought of that, he just looked at her.
“This is what happened with your mother,” she told him softly. “I watched as she was slowly drawn into the war, even during school. Dumbledore seemed to handpick who he wanted to help him and she was one of them. Then she was pulled in without realizing it. I understand she wanted to do the right thing and help, but she deserved a chance to live, grow and be your mother. That didn't happen.” Stopping, she shook her head then said, “I won't let this happen to you too. It's just the same thing over and over.”
“They do need help,” Harry said quietly.
“That's for adults. Children don't fight wars, Harry, especially against evil beings like this. Let the adults handle it. That's their job,” she told him firmly, rubbing his head gently. “You deserve to have a good life, one you can live and do what you want in, not be drawn into something that started long before you were born.”
Shaking his head, Harry said, “I want to help. This is the person that took mum and dad away from me and caused so many problems.”
“I think that's a choice you should make after you've grown up and have all the facts,” she told him firmly. “Right now, you don't. Even I don't. All I know is what I've heard tells me there is plenty missing here. It doesn't make sense, Harry.” Sighing, she said, “Let me help you, Harry. It's going to give you a choice, allow you to grow and choose your own path. Then, when you become a legal adult, you can decide, when you have all the information.”

Thinking that over, looking down at the bed, Harry wasn't sure what to say. After a few moments, he asked, “What do you mean by that? What does it involve?”
Shifting around on the bed, Petunia said, “I want to get you out of Hogwarts.” Seeing his head come up and a wide-eyed look on his face, something slightly panicked, she soothed, “I mean send you to another magical school out of the country. About a year after you were dropped on the doorstep, I got some papers from your mother's solicitor. They were things we did need, like your birth certificate and that. There were others though. Some were about the stipend we were supposed to get to help with expenses. I've hidden that money all these years. There were also things like a letter from your mother and others. She told me of a solicitor to use if I needed one for you. I've gotten in contact with him to see what I can do. There is a school in Rio, Brazil, called Rio Escola de Magia e Bruxaria. It's an all-boys boarding school. It would be perfect for you, Harry. You would get the education you need without being drawn into this mess. I've corresponded with their Headmistress, Madam Marie, and she assures me that she'll hide you from the world, not letting anyone know who you are. We can change your name and hide you. I know you'll miss your friends and other things, but this might be for the best. You deserve to be able to grow and do what you want without worrying about a war that you shouldn't be involved in.” Stopping, she waited to see what he had to say.
Thinking it over, Harry wasn't sure. He had so many questions. Quietly, he asked, “Will I be able to come home or talk to my friends?”
“No,” she said gently with a sad shake of her head. “You won't come home, but I'll make sure I can come see you. Madam Marie promised to arrange that. It won't be long, something like for day visits, but I promise I will. You can write to me and probably your godfather, as long as you don't tell him where you are. The rest—I don't trust them not to tell anyone.”
Looking at her, he asked, quietly, “You think this is for the best?” Aunt Petunia was the one person in his life, aside from Sirius so far, that seemed to only want to do what was best for him. Sirius—he kept promising him that and Harry was sure he meant it. The others he wasn't always sure about.
“I do,” she told him firmly with a nod. “You'll learn so much more than here. Their program is wonderful. When there aren't classes over the summer, you'll get to travel all over the world with teachers and see places you wouldn't get a chance to otherwise. Madam Marie assures me that there are plenty of students that stay all year round, including some that are British. I think this is the way to go.”
Looking at her, Harry thought it over then gave a slow nod. Aunt Petunia always seemed to know what was best, even if it sounded odd to him. So, he would give her the benefit of the doubt there. “It's going to be hard,” he admitted. “I'll miss everyone and you.”
“I know,” she soothed with a small smile. “Don't worry. You'll find new friends, maybe ones you'll be closer to than your current ones. And a whole new world will open up for you.” Lowering her voice, she added, “And I'll miss you as well. We'll write, though, and I'll come when I can. This isn't me abandoning you, Harry. It's me taking care of you.” Scooting closer to him, she pulled him into a stiff hug, holding him. Stroking his hair, she told him softly, “I love you, Harry. You may not be my son, but you are the next best thing. Like Dudley, I only want what's best for you. And I think this is it.”
Though startled by the hug, as his aunt hadn't done that before, Harry hugged her back, shutting his eyes and smiling. Quietly, he said, “I love you too, Aunt Petunia.”
Stroking his head, she told him, “We have much to work out in a short time. Your vaults, moving you, getting your name changed legally. It's going to be a busy time, but we'll manage. In a couple of weeks, you'll be gone. So, we have a lot to do.” Leaning her head against the young man's she said, “I would like the honor of picking out your name, if you'd let me.”

“I'll let you,” Harry said, mind spinning all over at what had to be coming, already second guessing his decision. He wouldn't back out though.

“Good! I have the perfect one. Now, send the letter to your godfather like you were doing, without mentioning this. Act like normal with everyone that writes. During the day, when Dudley is out and Vernon is at work, we have a lot to do.”

“Alright,” Harry said, holding onto her. Little did he know that his aunt has just changed his life in a way he would never regret and gave him something he would always adore and be grateful for. All because she loved him and wanted what was best for him.

Chapter 1

Looking up as his door opened after a sharp rap on it, Johnny Johnson smiled when he saw PJ Broadmoor come in. Tossing his quill on the desk, he leaned back and crossed his legs. PJ wasn't officially employed by the wire service he ran, the Wizarding World Wire News Service, but he was a young man that they bought plenty of articles from since he was in UC Berkeley’s Wizarding School of Journalism. And not being officially employed wasn't for lack of trying either. He wanted PJ, badly. It was PJ that didn't want that. He understood why, of course.
The younger man was just starting out and wanted to wait before he took on such a commitment. Hell, many did that, getting a feel for what they could do and traveling before settling in with a service or paper. PJ seemed to like traveling and covering what he wanted, so he had no desire to be hemmed in by what they would assign him. That was fine too. It was something they could work with, especially since PJ gave them some of the best rated articles they had over the last few years on many topics. Not to mention the young man won the coveted Shaw award, the Wizarding Worlds equivalent of the Pulitzer, for a series of articles on Wizarding Britain and how their government, press and school system were in such disarray. Though it had caused outrage in Britain, it had been truthful and factual, something that prompted changes in that country, big ones.
Over his years first a reporter, then as the managing editor of the WWWNS, he had seen the bright ones come and go. Most shone like the brightest star in the sky, but quickly plummeted when they ran out of what they could work with. PJ wasn't one of those. He had a feel for this and PJ didn't fit that mold. He had plenty always going, all over the world, and kept churning out what they wanted. In fact, he thought PJ's best years were to come. They just had to wait was all, and watch.
Observing the young man take a seat in front of the desk, he asked, “Alright, what do you have for me, PJ? You said it's big and that you can't take it on because of a conflict of interest.”
Settling into a chair in front of the desk and crossing his legs, PJ leaned back. Firmly, he said, “First, this is all off the record. I want the spells in place for that. Second, it can go no further, especially if nothing comes of it. I want those spells in place as well.”
Nodding, Johnny tapped the small stone on his desk to activate both spells. Settling in, he said, “Done. It goes no further. Anyone else that comes in is also bound by the spells. Now, I'm intrigued. What's this you have for me? And how big is it? You said you can't take it because of a conflict.”
“I can't write it,” PJ confirmed with a nod. “And it's big. Before we launch into that let me say I'm moving out of the States. I'm going to base out of Switzerland in about a month. So, if you need someone in Britain, let me know. Same arrangement as always, of course. I don't want to be on the payroll officially. I'm also not moving to Britain to cover that mess going on. I can easily get in and out though, as I’m a British citizen.”
Liking that, Johnny said, “Consider it done. We need someone close. More is cropping up each day and I have no one willing to locate there to cover it. Though the Ministry won't confirm that Voldemort is back, there is enough evidence to say he is. Plus, the Ministry and Prophet, both, hate us and won't give up any information to anyone they know we employ. You're perfect here, especially since you're not officially employed by us and write under JP Bedlam. We'll get with you as we need you or you can do what you do best when you get wind of something. Then we'll go from there.”
“Works for me,” PJ told him, looking pleased. “I have my own contacts there, so I can wiggle to do what I need.”
“Now, what do you have for me? I have a feeling I'm going to like this,” Johnny said, prodding the young reporter.
“You will,” PJ said, pulling out a large sheaf of parchments. Holding them up, he said, “I have the answer to one of the biggest mysteries in our world; where Harry Potter is and what happened.”
Excited, Johnny leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, hands clasped, as he glanced at what the reporter was holding. “Tell me about it,” he said firmly.
Looking the man dead in the eye, PJ said, “I'm Harry Potter. And I'll give you everything I have on not only that, but how it relates to Voldemort and why Albus Dumbledore is still looking for me. I can't cover this, Johnny, for obvious reasons. I'm willing to give it to Du Bois though. He can do it. I have all the research to get him started and will let him interview me as long as there are no pictures taken and nothing gives away who I am. There are a couple other things, but they are minor.”
Eyes wide, Johnny looked at his reporter, stunned. This was Harry Potter? Shaking his head, he didn't know what to say. Of course, it had been many years since Harry Potter vanished. It was right after the lads third year that he just dropped off the face of the earth. No one, anywhere, had seen him since. It was one of the greatest mysteries of their time. Most assumed the boy had died, killed by followers of Voldemort. If this was true, he wanted it, badly. Still shaking his head, he looked at PJ.
He had seen pictures of Potter, of course, but they looked nothing like PJ. Some of that could be attributed to aging. PJ was 21, about 5'11” with a shock of black hair that was down to his shoulders. His eyes were a hazel color, not the green of Potter's. He was fit and trim, a nice looking young man. Then there was the fact that there was no scar, not even a trace of it. It was just the fact that the two didn't look remotely the same. “You can prove this?” He asked, warily, eying what he knew were differences.
“I can,” PJ grinned. “Before you say it, the looks are a glamour, a simple one. The eyes are color changing contacts, permanent ones. The scar was removed by a combination of Muggle and Wizarding plastic surgery the year I arrived in Brazil for school. I have my birth certificate, the legal papers when my aunt changed my name, the legal papers for my estate, the records of the scar removal surgery, pictures of me then and after as I grew, all of it. Everything you would need to prove anything and then some.” Lifting his wand, the one he had gotten in Japan when he was 17, he removed the glamour and made the contacts clear. “It's me. Harry Potter is gone. PJ Broadmoor took his place all those years ago.”
Looking at PJ, Johnny took in what he saw. The eyes were the same, no doubt there, but the rest was so different, as the glamour hadn't changed much, just adding some fat in places and changing his nose slightly. Slowly, he nodded, “Alright, prove it to me and start talking. Once you convince me, we'll get Du Bois in here then press on. Keep in mind, I've done this a long time, PJ. If you're faking it, I'll know.”
“I'll prove it,” PJ said, settling back then began to walk the man through how Harry Potter became PJ Broadmoor, producing the documents and evidence to back it all up.

Looking at the blindsided, but excited, Du Bois, Johnny then looked back at PJ and nodded, “Alright, PJ, you've proven it. We'll keep it for the records, sealed of course, with privacy spells that hide your name and everything that could lead someone to trace you. Now, give us what you know on all of it. This has to be big.”
“It is,” PJ nodded firmly. “Bigger than you could ever know.” Slowly he walked them through what went on at Hogwarts up to his third year, what his aunt had done in moving him to Rio and changing his name, something that was a play on his fathers, Potter, James, using the initials as his first name then the name of a famous mental institution for his last as a running joke between him and his aunt over the insanity of his life. Then he began to explain the scar. “We all thought it best that the scar go. In Britain, they would tell you that couldn't be done because it was a curse scar. Rio, and other places, are different, as I'm sure you know. Rather than stick me straight in the school using a glamour, I went to the hospital. The surgery wasn't going to take much, supposedly. It was a combination of Muggle and magical, as I've already said. It was actually only supposed to take an hour. It didn't. There was a complication. They found something embedded in it called a Horcrux. I'm sure you both know what that is from past articles.” Seeing nods and sick looks, PJ pressed on, “That was a mess. I was under and the scar open, but they couldn't do anything until that was out. There was a mad flurry to find a way to remove it, contact my aunt, all of it. Finally, they got a Vondu priestess in that was Magical. She was able to get it out and destroy it.” Taking out the parchment with the surgical record on it, he copied it and passed it to the two. “That's the record of it. Because I was a minor, it's still sealed. Nothing can unseal it either. Only I or my aunt can access it. I give permission to use it in the article. Just so the location isn't named.”
Taking that and looking it over, Johnny felt his heart pound in a way that it hadn't in a long time. Whatever PJ was about to give them was bound to be big, something that would cause a huge sensation. “How did it happen, do you know? I assume it was that night so long ago.”
“It was,” PJ told him. “It was Voldemort's. How I came about that conclusion I'll get to shortly.” Pressing on, he said, “After that mess, things calmed down. I went to Bruxaria as you know. That was about normal. Everyone, of course, knew me as PJ. I lived there year round as my aunt didn't want to chance me coming back, even for visits. It was great and I adored it, being allowed to grow in a way I wouldn't have in Britain. Most of those I knew back in Britain I dropped contact with at my aunt's request. Actually, I only still wrote to one person; my godfather, Sirius Black. He's the only one I've kept up a correspondence with since then. Obviously, he doesn't know where I am or the name change. I'm still Harry to him. All he knows is I'm safe and happy, nothing more.”
“In what would have been my fifth year at Hogwarts, something happened, as all of you know, that had me wondering just what was going on back there. I knew from Sirius, who was cleared by then as they found Pettigrew, that Dumbledore was still looking for me. The man seemed to know I wasn't dead, though Sirius never told him we were writing. It was that break-in at the Hall of Prophecy that had me wondering what was going on. Something Sirius said about protecting a prophecy, he called it their secret weapon, Voldemort wanted to hear had me curious. So, during the summer, I filed a letter through the British Freedom of Information clause to get a copy of it. As I'm the one listed on the jar, I could get it. It's a system that's automated by a spell, so no one ever knew I requested a copy of the prophecy.” Producing that, he made copies and passed it to the two. “When I read that, things began to click with the Horcrux.”
Sighing, PJ said, “You need to remember that my first year I knew the maniac was back. I encountered him. Then came all the other stuff with so much. Pettigrew going to join him and hearing that other prophecy, coincidentally that was done by the same one that gave the one they were after in the Hall of Prophecy, were enough for me to realize that this was related. All along, people told me, from the time I was first introduced to our world, that Voldemort wasn't gone. Reading all this, I began to put it together. Combine that with how Dumbledore seemed to be scouring the world for me and I knew it was related.” Stopping, he looked between the two then said, softly, “He knew. Dumbledore knew all along that I was a Horcrux. Or at least had an inkling. That chunk with the Chamber my second year and that diary, then me speaking Parseltongue was too much of a coincidence for me. I now know he knew something or was putting it together. He doesn’t know it's gone. So, he's probably looking for me to end this mess because of that prophecy, something I sure as hell am not going to help him with!”
Looking through what PJ produced and the transcript of the prophecy, Du Bois was excited. This was massive. Bigger than anything he thought he would hear. Oh, he was going to take this. “Is he still trying? Dumbledore that is?”
“He is,” PJ told him with a firm nod. “Sirius said he's still following clues, though they never come to anything or are even close to where I am, let alone the name change. All that was done in Brazil, something he won't get anywhere with, no matter what contacts he has. All Sirius knows is I'm safe, not where I am. He keeps it to himself, though asks to see me from time to time, understandably. I've put him off so far, but will see him when I go to Britain before I move. Researching all this,” PJ said, pulling out more parchments and handing them over, “I've noticed that though Dumbledore is one everyone says is the only person Voldemort is afraid of, he hasn't stepped up enough to end it. He keeps pressing to let everyone know he's back and all that, but doesn't actually do anything to actively end the mess. That tells me he knows what was in my scar and needs me before he'll do anything. He has a plan in place, one he wants to play out, and I'm part of it. The barmy old bastard can kiss my arse there. He'll never find me unless I reveal who I am. That's not going to happen. My aunt went through all kinds of hell to get me out. I'm not about to devalue that by dropping myself into the middle of that war.”
Taking the research, Johnny nodded vigorously. This was wonderful. Up to anything PJ did for the articles they ran from him. It was complete, documented with verifiable sources, all of it. “How much are you willing to give up? I mean, obviously some of it you won't. And what conditions do you have?”

“All of it,” PJ told him firmly, looking intent. “I don't want it out there that I still write to Sirius to protect him from hell. My aunt and I talked. She's willing to let it come out she's the one that got me out. She's in a bad situation. Part of why I'm going back is to help her get away from my Uncle Vernon. He's gotten worse over the years and she's done. My cousin is grown and at uni, so she's taking the chance to do a runner. I'm going to help her. That I don't want mentioned, obviously. She deserves a lot of credit for doing what she did and I want it known she's the reason I got to live a normal life. She loves me, that's the reason she did it, and I want everyone to know that. I want nothing given up that could reveal my real or pen name, either one. Or anything anyone could use to trace me. Those are obvious though. The only other thing I want is for this to wait to hit until I'm in Switzerland and my aunt is out. However, I do want it to go into the article that I am making it clear that Harry Potter is gone forever. I refuse to be drawn into the coming war, something we all know is approaching though the British government wants to deny it, and that even if someone manages to find me there are no powers great enough to pull me back in. I have my life, one I adore, and I'm not giving it up to go back to fight a war because of a dumb prophecy and someone who thinks they can manipulate me. It's their fight, not mine. I lost my parents to this, I'm not going to get drawn in and manipulated. That's all.”
“Oh, we can manage that,” Du Bois said with a gleeful cackle. “No problem, PJ!”
“A suggestion, though,” PJ said, looking between the two. “Look into Dumbledore's past. It can't be pretty. There also have to be plenty of clues as to what led to this and other things he might be trying. I managed quite a lot here, but didn't want to chance doing any digging on the old man. I was afraid it might tip someone off then get him looking in my direction. That I didn't want. I gave you the foundation, but I'm going to bet my magic there is more. I would like a copy of it when you get it, though. Just so I know what's going on. I might be able to piece together something you can't because of what I know and saw.”
“We'll do that,” Johnny said with a firm nod. “I'll get researchers on it once we end the meeting.”
“What about known followers of Voldemort? We keep getting names mentioned, big ones. You had to go to school with some of them, like the Malfoy kid.” Du Bois asked, looking at him.
“I did,” PJ confirmed with a nod. “I'll give it all up. I went to school with Draco, the bratty little oik he is. He was bad even then. He's worse now from what I hear. I also went with Parkinson, that cow of a wife of his, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, all of them. I had several encounters with Lucius Malfoy. In fact, he was the one that put that damned diary in Ginny Weasley's cauldron that triggered the nightmare. Nothing came of that either, other than him being tossed off the Board of Governors. That's damned suspicious there. Dumbledore made it clear, as I was standing right there, that he knew Malfoy had done it. I'll tell you what you want to know. Just keep in mind it was all years ago and I don't know how it's changed since then other than things I hear now.”
“We name these names and people are going to howl,” Du Bois said, looking at Johnny, grinning.
“Let them howl,” Johnny said firmly, grinning himself. “The Prophet won't carry anything from us anyway because PJ took them to the cleaners in that series of articles. Others will, we know that. This will be too big for them not to. We're state-side based, so they can't do more than scream. Let them do that. Won't do a damned bit of good.”
“Alright, PJ, let me do the research here and then I'll get with you for the interview. We'll go from there,” Du Bois said, looking at his colleague.
“Whenever you want. Just keep in mind I'm moving soon. I would prefer to do it here before I leave.”
“We'll manage,” Johnny said, leaning back, pleased.

Looking at Johnny after PJ left, Du Bois grinned almost manically, “Oh, this is good! He handed us the story of the decade!”
“He did,” Johnny chuckled, eyes dancing. “It's even better that there is no conflict of interest. He refuses to sign a contract with us, so he's just one of the stringers we pay if he produces something. This way we don't have to divulge our connection. Perfect.”
“I see awards here,” Du Bois said smugly, crossing his legs and clutching the goldmine of parchments to his chest.
“As do I! Just watch your step. And be careful. Both sides of that mess in Britain are going to focus on you when this hits. Watch your back, Du Bois!”
“Never fear, I will,” the man said with a nod. Standing, he said, “Let me get on it. I want to move fast so it's in place and ready when he lands in Switzerland.”
“I'll set research onto all the names involved and come up with what I can. Let's do this!” Johnny said, standing, more excited by this story than he had been about any in a long time.
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Toonie\'s Love