Harry Potter and the Star of Senkrad

Author: l'Ciel

Fandom: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: JKR, and some more I think – I don't own anything but the plot – oh, and Ice Drakes, that's mine too! And that sexy nurse in a later chapter (god bless her brainless boobs)

Rating: R for implicit sexual content, violence, mind-games, and the like…

Warnings: violence, brain washing, implied non-con, SLASH

Pairings: HP/DG, SS/LM; side pairings: HP/BZ (not romance centered)

Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

Summary : After the events of OotP, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. The only one to find him is Snape, but where do the spy's loyalties truly lie? Slash & Het, war-story, written in four parts, nearly completed, beta-read by the wonderful silvery sun Mary Thank you, Mary!

Main characters: Harry, Snape, Lucius, Voldemort

Please read ANs,because IF I write ANs, they usually contain additional information on the story, its progress, etc. Thanks!

AN/ Hi dear readers. This goes especially to the 14 people who have me on their fav. list and the 60 on whose alert list I am. Thanks you guys. For reading, reviewing, and being patient with me It took me nearly a year, but now the largest project I ever did is nearly finished and ready to be published! I can already say that is has about 60,000 words, is not AU, but will be after the release of HBP, but is still ask you to read it

I hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it, so I won't keep you any longer! Cheers, L'Ciel


Part One 01) Runaway Boy

The night over which he flew was pitch black. Here and there a cluster of lights spoke of an isolated dwelling or two. He gripped the reins more tightly and urged the animal to greater speed. Sailing through another heavy cloud, they emerged cold and wet. The warm breeze from beyond soothed his aching hands, while they tumbled lower and lower. Some miles ahead, the rider could see the huge light ball that was London. In the outskirts of the town, they landed in a copse of wood and he quickly dismounted. Caressing the hippogriffs beak, he tied the reins to the nearest tree and cast some anti-muggle wards, before he straightened his cloths and marched into the direction of the city.

Ever since Potter had disappeared from his relatives' house they had searched for him. Combing through every corner of Surrey, the Order had found nothing, nor did the Death Eaters. Leaving behind a bunch of dead and obliviated Muggles, they had moved on to London, the next likely hideout.

Right now, about two hundred wizards and witches searched the common places, the backyards and alleys, inns and bars for the wayward sixteen year old. Some Ministry aurors, along with Dumbledore's allies had already looked around Hogsmeade, so he could spare that place. The dark lord had sent his minions to Knockturne Alley and the blocks around the Ministry and St. Mungos had been thoroughly searched by aurors. Tonks had been seen, so had Dawlish. Rumours were, that Bellatrix, disguised as an old woman, had even gone to St. Ottery Catchpole, although the place was swarmed with Order members at that time.

He sighed and crossed the road. The biggest problem for him was to actually get there. Since he had told both his masters that he was on a trip through Europe to gather rare ingredients, it was vital (unfortunately in the literal sense) not to be noticed by both sides, at least not until he had the boy. He lifted his hand, when the next bus passed and paid his ticket, before slumping into one of the worn seats to wait. The vehicle rattled along the dusty streets. In the far east, the sun was slowly rising in eerie shades of violet and red. The light bathed everything in gold and for a moment, he felt almost serene. A rare occurrence in the live of a double agent – but he had sworn to enjoy this few moments to the fullest. With a sigh he leaned back and let the first warm rays tickle his nose, while the ride went on.

About an hour later, the bus had reached the inner city and Snape got out. Walking for a few minutes, he had reached the river. The Tower to his left stood dark against the rising sun. The cawing of the ravens enhanced the beauty of that morning and a small smile stole its way into the crook of Severus' mouth. Calmly, he gazed over the water. The pillars of the bridge rose from the fog like some sacred path to Nirvana and he wished he could cross that bridge. But duty kept him here, duty and an unpaid dept, revenge and some lonely spark left in the abyss of his soul, that would not give in to death and clung to the little remaining light.

Some of his light was the beauty of such moments. Unguarded for a short moment, he let his eyes slip shut and smelled the fresh air of the morning. Another sunray tickled his nose, when the clouds finally broke up and light fell through the gaps. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with even more beauty and he felt like crying for having it, until it passed.

Feeling empty and bitter, he turned around and stalked away. The dirty streets of central London disgusted him and he quickened up his pace, until he reached the tube. Taking the District Line to Embankment and then the Bakerloo to Piccadilly, he reached the Leaky Cauldron within half an hour. Before he entered the establishment, he squeezed himself into the entrance, from where Muggles would not be able to see him. He changed his long, woollen muggle-style coat, that had hidden his robes quite well up to then, into a soft, white cloak with fur lining and turned the black robes into dark blue ones. A single potion made his lank, inky hair curly brown. His facial structures changed into a plain, very English face and his eyes became light blue. Satisfied with his new identity, he entered the pub and greeted the bartender. He paid for a room on the backside with a larger window and stored his luggage there, before he grabbed a pouch of coins and exited the Pub into Diagon Alley.


'Never return to our house again you worthless freak, or I'll shoot your lazy arse!'

He smirked cynically and carefully wrapped the black ribbons around his wrists. They, along with a whole new wardrobe, were one of the first things he had bought. That shop next to Borgin & Burkes had a great collection of alternative Wizarding clothes. While Madam Malkin's robes were all nice and well-fitting, they were usually plain and quite boring. 'The Darker Side of Fashion' on the other hand held a large collection of all kinds of weird pieces. They sold really short skirts and dragon-skin trousers, tight shirts and fishnet tops. High heeled boots for her, him and something in between, rivet belts and pins, tank tops, shiny black robes, ropes, lacy stuff and steel corsages. A new trend, it seemed, were these ribbons. You tied them around your wrists, not unlike boxers did before a fight. You could fix little charms or badges on them, but that was more a girl's thing. They looked pretty cool, definitely something for bad boys, he thought and chuckled. Yes, something for him.

The happy days of Dumbledore's golden boy were over. They had always been counted, and the headmaster had known this. Fuck Dumbledore, he cursed. He would never listen to that manipulative bastard again!

Grim, he tied the last knot in the ribbon and moved on to his boot-cut pants, which brought our his gorgeous bum, as the selling-witch had said, before she urged him to the counter. Knee long robes with slits on the sides, so he could move around more comfortably, that opened in the front with large, silver clasps, and dragonhide boots with 2 inch platforms had gotten along with it. They made him look taller. Additionally he had purchased 'normal' robes in dark blue and green. The attentive shop assistant had also supplied him with new formal robes in white, with fur lining and pointed snakeskin boots.

After leaving the shop slightly out of breath, he had left the Wizarding world to buy some trainers, jeans and shirts in muggle London; black slacks, new boxers and briefs in black and white… he really could not wear Dudley's threadbare, oversized hand-me-downs any longer… and, back in Diagon Alley, a larger cage for Hedwig. Not to count the usual stuff like parchment, ink, owl treats, ice cream at Fortescue's and a second wand.

Luckily the goblins at Gringotts never asked too many questions and were very discrete!

The wand had been his greatest problem; he needed another wand so he could duel Voldemort without creating another 'Priori Incantatem' effect like two years ago. He knew Ollivander would most likely recognize him even with the concealing charms on. Although Harry Potter was currently a thin, pale, dirty blonde with thin lips, a narrow face and curly hair, he was still himself behind the charms and he doubted the creepy old wandmaker would fall for the guise.

God bless those Ministry fools for tracking magic after places, not after persons!

Leaving the pub he had explored the shops in Knockturne Alley a bit more and eventually found a wand dealer in a corner. The man had taken him too a room above the candle shop and ushered him up a ladder and through a trapdoor into the attic. He had not followed, but soon Harry discovered an old man sitting behind a desk. His long white hair fell over his shoulders, while he scratched in a bowl of eyeballs. Magical eyeballs, to be correct, Harry thought, when the wizard popped two of them into the empty sockets in his face and for the first time rose his head to look at him. He frowned, but shrugged, obviously disinterested who his customer was, as long as he paid. One icy blue and one red eyeball with a white iris stared at him and Harry swallowed.

"You came for a wand, boy?" the wandmaker asked briskly and got up from his chair. He was incredibly tall and thin, the heavy velvet robes threadbare and dirty. The fake eyes made Harry a bit jumpy and he tried to calm himself.

"Yes, sir. I need a new one," he answered with a calmer voice than he felt.

"Another one, more likely," the seller smiled darkly, and idly wandered along the shelves stocked with long, thin cases, just like at Ollivanders. In the back Harry could make out long rows of larger items. Curiously he made a step towards them, but a cold hand stopped him.

"The weapons are not wielded by anyone, boy. You better stay away from them. But then, why not try it. Don't touch!" the wandmaker pronounced seriously. "Just walk along. When you feel a weapon call to you, inform me, but I… we will see. In the meantime I will select a few wands for you."

He walked away and Harry cautiously approached the back shelves. Assorted there was a collection of swords, daggers, knifes, bows, staffs, some triangular blades with a chain that Harry had never seen before, in all forms and colours. There were some other little machines and (probably) torture instruments, but they did not catch his attention. He let his gaze wander over the swords and knifes, but he only felt dread towards them.

But then his gaze fell onto one of the triangular blades. There was a dark, metallic staff with many hooks attached to the chain. On its other end was a ball, about the size of a Bludger. It was black and three blades were wound around it in circles. An animated picture next to it showed a knight on a horse swinging the staff with the chain on it. A beast jumped near him and the staff came down with a flash of light, the ball hitting the beast's head and the blades dancing around it, until it was shredded into pieces. On another picture the blades detached themselves from the ball like three gigantic whips of light and soared above a cluster of enemies, slashing deep wounds through their armours or cutting off body parts. A third image showed a man playing a melody on a flute.

The sheer brutality in the larger two horrified him. In his ears he could hear the soaring sound of the chain and the screams of his opponents, a neighing horse beneath him. Blood pounded in his ears as he extended his hand to grip the weapon, when a sharp slap woke him from his daze.

"The dark has ever been alluring, boy. You should keep it in mind when you near it, or it may easily fool you. Such arts have rarely brought good," the old wizard said grimly, shaking his head. "The one with the power to vanquish a Dark Lord… somehow I doubt it."

Harry stared at him in horror.

"I… I what are you talking about?" But he knew he could not hide the truth.

"Let me tell you, Mr. Potter, that even a blind man can see. And not all my customers are so fluent with their money. May the case arise, I am certainly willing to trade a piece of wood and core against some valuable knowledge. I this case, I am certain it was more than worth it."

Harry swallowed hard. Shit, he thought darkly, nobody was meant to know that!

"Now about your wand!" the old man roused him from his brooding. "I want you to try these. Please point them over there. I wouldn't want the weapons to go wild on us! Every single piece is unique, just like their owners…"

"Who are you?" Harry asked, confused, but the information seemed important to him.

"Saduj Ollivander, the wandmaker and seller. Family business since 382 BC, I believe my brother made your other wand. Since he is the older, he of course inherited the shop."

"I see. This one?"

"Yes," Ollivander offered him a collection of boxes and Harry took the first one, while the wandmaker put the rest onto his desk. Harry swung the wand and nothing happened. Shrugging, he placed it back inside the box and set it at some distance to the others.

"Why did nothing happen? At your brother's shop I blew everything up but at least something happened. What is different?" he inquired.

"A clever boy, indeed! You see," Ollivander smiled encouragingly, "my brother is more the traditional wandmaker. The advantage of using dragon heartstrings, unicorn tail hairs and phoenix feathers is, that EVERY witch or wizard can use them, even if some are better suited than others. You might notice, that you can use your friends' wands, simply because the core is quite common. Of course, the result will always be faulty. But then, there are some wizards who have more… meticulous wants. For these, I am here. The 'other' Ollivander. You have to keep in mind, that our family is famous all over the planet for our art."

"So you use other cores? More, different kinds?" Harry continued asking.

"Yes. I have crafted wands with over three thousand different cores and two hundred kinds of wood. I also believe in the old staff system. The longer the staff, or wand, the higher the accuracy of the spell. For example, with a common ten inch wand, you have a perfect aim in a distance up to ten yards. With a thirteen inch wand, your aim is accurate to a distance about fifteen yards. But with a staff that is at least five feet long, you can hit an apple two-hundred and twenty yards away! See my reasoning?"

"Yeah, but why did wizards buy wands then?"

"Probably because the high accuracy wasn't needed anymore after the Christians had conquered Britain and the war was over. Of course, Merlin's supporters still bought staffs after that, but after the Middle Ages nobody was interested anymore. Could have helped them against Grindelwald or Voldemort in the first go, but nobody ever listens. I believe in the Balkans, they still have some, but they're getting fewer and fewer. I still have two, but you're buying one, so only the other remains."

"But I don't need something like that!" Harry pouted. Again had the old coot read his thoughts.

"Of course you do. This weapon is destined for you! And apart from that, you want it. Don't tell me otherwise, I am too old to be lied to easily. And now about your wand, take this one here! Ebony and basilisk scale! A volatile combination, but just right for some!"

Harry touched the wand and it snapped at him. Well, maybe another…

Thirty wands later with the funniest combinations, he held a mahogany, 12 inch, flexible, phoenix feather, and although it 'worked' neither of them was satisfied.

"The problem is not the core…" suddenly, Ollivander's eyes were filled with realisation.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked confused.

"Am I correct when I say your first wand was a perfect match?" the old wizard inquired thoughtfully.

"I think so, sir. Is that important?"

"Yes, exceedingly important. The wand chooses the wizard, my boy, and you are unavailable. Since you are already bound to one wand it is increasingly difficult to find another match. What is your first one made of?"

"Holly and phoenix feather."

"I see. Well, we'll simply have to find something remotely similar. Wait a minute!" he shuffled to the back of the shop and soon reappeared with a slim box. "My son made this one. Talented craftsmen he was… Now, where was I? Ah - Holly and Dragon heartstring. Since both animals are fire elementals, at least in the case of this dragon, it should work adequately. Here," he handed Harry the wand and he swung it loosely. A shower of sparks erupted from the tip. Even though the thing had the tendency to slip his grasp at least there was some reaction…

After the wand was placed into an unbreakable case and stuffed away in his pocket, he had left the shop in the attic with a rather lighter purse. Returning to the light of Diagon Alley, he had eaten a sundae at the ice-cream parlour, and then walked around a bit, enjoying the sun, before he turned to walk back to his room in the Mewling Monkey, a dirty pub down Knockturne Alley.

But then he had ventured into a crazy candle shop next door and found a second entrance in the back. Actually, he had not found it, but followed a wizard in a white furry coat and brown hair. The man had lingered in the shadows of the alley for quite some time and Harry was curious about him. When the stranger used the semi-secret exit behind an old bookshelf full of 'Reanimate Candles', he followed and was harshly slammed against the wall the moment he passed through. Gasping for air, he stared at the stranger.

"Curiosity killed the cat," a harsh voice whispered, while he was shoved against the wall.

"Who...S – Snape?"


AN/ So, liked it? Didn't? Tell me what you think? I will update soon, don't worry. Please R&R, lCiel