Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR
AN: I have three sections of this story ready to post. The next two will go up later in the week. Further updates will come as written. No set update schedule, no pairings at this time. This story is completely AU and will not conform to canon.
Vernon Dursley sat at the kitchen table with his wife, Petunia. They were discussing the latest in a long line of unnatural incidents surrounding their nephew, Harry Potter.
"Petunia, I'm tired of the whole mess, the money we get for raising the boy isn't enough to make up for the headaches. I've found a place that may be able to stamp the freakishness out of him and if they can't, well, we won't have to hear about it at least."
"Vernon we can't send him away, those people—" stated Petunia.
"Those people can just bugger off," he roared. Then lowered his voice with an apologetic look at his wife, "I'm sorry, Pet, but either he goes or I go."
"But, Vernon, can we afford to send him off?" asked Petunia.
"I've spoken to those people at the bank, the ones in charge of that trust that pays for him. Well they'll pay for the school, we'll have to give up the maintenance stipend, of course, but I'm due for a raise and Mr. Grunnings is thinking of opening another factory in Manchester. I could put in for there and we could move."
Petunia glanced about the house with a sigh and said, "Well I suppose it's for the best; we'll have to cut back a bit but if we aren't spending money on the boy I think it'll work out. I don't like the idea of moving Vernon, but for Dudley's sake I will."
Dudley Dursley was angry, he didn't want to move away from his friends, he didn't like that his freak cousin had gotten to ride in an airplane, he didn't like riding in the backseat, he didn't like not getting the ice cream he wanted, and he certainly didn't like his father yelling at him to stop kicking the back of the seat. He wanted ice cream and knew just how to get it. He scooted forward on the seat, leaned close to his fathers shoulder, shoved a finger down his throat and vomited right into his dad's lap. Petunia shrieked as Vernon cursed and jerked the wheel into the path of the oncoming lorry.
"Firmgrasp I find that I must insist that you give me the information I need. Harry Potter's guardians are dead, that means that his welfare is my responsibility," said Dumbledore with a sigh.
"No, Mr. Dumbledore it is you who do not understand. You turned over custody and guardianship of the Potter Heir to Petunia Dursley; she in turn made very firm arrangements regarding that guardianship before her death. Gringotts values the privacy of our clients and I will not give you either information or access to the Potter Heir," said the Goblin firmly.
Commander Philips looked up as Sergeant Fields entered his office.
"Sergeant Fields, it's too early in the term for this, what the hell is going on in barracks five?"
Fields was a burly man with graying hair, a career military man before his retirement and a godsend as far as Philips was concerned because he had a way with troubled boys.
"Well, sir, it appears as if we have another magic user," said Fields with a smirk, "Brat Mason—"
"Sergeant," said the Commander in warning.
Fields coughed slightly, "Sorry sir, slip of the tongue, Bryant Mason is in the infirmary with large, green boils. It appears he was up to his old tricks with the new boys, a bit of bullying in the showers, and one of them hexed him. He's not sure what happened and isn't admitting to anything of course. The new boys aren't talking either though all of them seem to know, they've closed ranks so to speak. Cadet Captain Donovan is going to talk to them and see if he can convince them to at least file a complaint against Brat, er, Cadet Mason."
Phillips sighed, they boasted of their ability to straighten out troublemakers but sometimes they failed no matter what they tried. "Very well Sergeant, keep me apprised of the situation. Hopefully our new magic user will trust us and come forward before he really hurts someone. I don't want to call the Mage Bureau in until I have to."
"Sergeant, what can I do for you today," asked Phillips.
"Commander, I'd like Cadet Potter to start seeing the counselor, I'm thinking he's been abused, he's awful twitchy. Doesn't like to be touched, flinches when anyone yells. I think he just might be our magic user, too Cadet Mason can't keep his hands to himself; I over heard him complaining about getting a shock when he pushed Potter in the chow line yesterday."
"How is Potter with the other boys?" asked Phillips.
"He's getting along with his year mates well enough, the Cadet officers in his barracks like him, he's smart as a whip, just afraid to show it," said Fields. "One other thing, sir, I'd like to transfer Mason to another barracks, he's maxed his demerits and I've done everything I can think of to get through to the boy but he's not paying attention."
"I was just looking at reports on Cadet Mason this afternoon, Sergeant, he's failing five of his classes as well as being disruptive. All right I'll send him to Delta Company and Sergeant Watts can have a go at him," said Phillips pulling a form from a file drawer.
"And Potter, sir?" said the Sergeant.
"Send him to Dorothy Keith, she's aware of magic, if he turns out to be our magic user we won't have to let someone else in on the secret," he said.
"Yes, sir," agreed Fields.
"Cadet Potter, reporting as ordered Sir," said the small ten-year-old boy standing to attention.
At ease, Cadet, have a seat," ordered the Commander, indicating a round table with four chairs in the corner of the office. He was an older man with gray eyes and short cropped gray hair. "Potter, this is Mr. Wilson, I'm afraid that we have some bad news for you, son."
"Sir?" said Harry nervously.
Wilson cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, to inform you of the death of Vernon and Petunia Dursley and their son Dudley."
Harry stared at him for a moment, took a deep breath, and turned to Commander Phillips, "Does this mean I have to leave?"
Phillips looked at Wilson and raised an eyebrow.
Wilson shook his head, "Not if you're happy here. You have more than enough money in your Trust to complete you education here or in any Magical school you choose.
Harry turned his eyes on the dark haired middle-aged man.
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand, I've never had any money, what's a Trust? Why would I want to go to Magic school? I don't think I want to pull rabbits out of hats," said Harry confusion clear in his face.
Wilson blinked and responded softly, "I promise I'll explain everything. But can you tell me what you know of your parents, Mr. Potter?"
Harry frowned and his eyes narrowed slightly as he said, "They are dead. I was told that they died in a car accident. That my father was an unemployed drunk, that my mother was a slut that got pregnant with me and forced my father into marriage, that I was unwanted by both my parents, and that's why my Aunt and Uncle who raised me sent me here, sir, to keep me from being a lay-about like my father."
Wilson recoiled at the cold recitation and asked, "Do you believe that?"
Harry's eyes shifted and he shrugged, "I don't know. They didn't like me but why would they lie?"
Wilson sighed, "I suspect because they didn't want to admit that you are special and they weren't."
"What do you mean?" demanded Harry.
"You are a wizard; you have magical ability just as your parents had. The Dursleys weren't magical at all," said Wilson.
"Magic, is that what I do?" asked Harry.
"Yes, magic; which is good deal of why I'm here today. Your father, James Potter, was an Auror at the time of his Death, a magical policeman, more or less. Your mother was a researcher for the Department of Mysteries. They were killed, murdered, by an evil wizard, obsessed with blood status, who wanted to overthrow the Magical
government of Britain and rule it himself."
He reached down into a briefcase and continued, "Here is a copy of their marriage license and your birth certificate showing that they were in fact married over two years before you were born. I think that covers the lies you were told."
"Yes sir, thank you sir," said Harry, touching the legal document reverently.
"We, the staff and I, had already begun suspecting that Cadet Potter was magical. We've had several odd happenings. I've arranged for someone from Mage Testing to stop by during Christmas break," said Commander Phillips to Wilson.
"That's good. He should be fully tested, both physically and magically, Commander. I was rather surprised to be told that you were aware of the magical world," said Wilson.
The Commander grinned and asked, "Because I'm a mundane, you mean? Well I've been informed that this Academy sits on the junction of three ley lines and, as such, anyone with even a of spark of latent magic goes active here. We are known for taking discipline problem boys and making men of them, but sometimes we make mages of them instead."
"I'm aware of the ley lines here; in fact we are very lucky with that. The convergence hides Mr. Potter's whereabouts quite conveniently," said Wilson with a nod.
"What do you mean?" asked Phillips.
"Er, just a moment, Commander," said Wilson and then he turned back to Harry whose head had been turning back and forth following the conversation. "Mr. Potter, do you truly wish to stay here at the Hazelton Academy? You could return to Britain if you like."
"I'd like to stay here, sir, if I may. I like it here. There's a lot to eat, I have my own bed and chest, and no one takes my thing or hits me. Everyone has to work, not just me, and when Sergeant Fields yells, he yells at everyone," his voice dropped to a confiding tone, "I think he just likes yelling."
Wilson grinned at Harry, "That's fine, then. I'll just speak with the Commander, then; you can get back to whatever you were doing today."
"But sir, you promised to explain. Do I really have money and what is a Trust?"
"Oh, yes, the bulk of your estate, that is the money left by your parents, is with Gringotts Bank, which is owned by Goblins. Your account manager is named Firmgrasp and was hired by your father and given fairly firm instructions. You also have a Trust account, which is money that pays for your education and expenses. You don't have a drawing account set up here, but I can change that so you can have some pocket money as well. You will be eligible to claim your birthright and emancipation at age fourteen, as long as you have started your magical education before then and I can come back to answer those questions after your magical testing over the holiday if you like," said Wilson.
"Goblin's, sir?" asked Harry.
"How about I send you a book about the Magical World, Mr. Potter? It's designed to explain it to the mundane," Wilson answered.
"Yes please, sir. Will I see you again?" asked Harry.
"Yes, I've been assigned as your permanent guardian by the Trust manager and will act as liaison between you, the Trust and the Commander who is your current custodial guardian."
Commander Phillips cleared his throat, "You're dismissed, Cadet. Come see me this evening if you want to talk."
Cadet Harry Potter saluted and left the room smiling slightly.
"He doesn't seem to care that his relatives are dead," mused Wilson.
Phillips shrugged, "From the condition the boy was in when he arrived here and the little things he's let drop, he's probably more relieved that he'll never have to see them again. Now, do you want to tell me what's going on? Why you are glad that he's hidden and just who is he hiding from?"
Wilson grimaced and replied, "Well, the boy's placement with the Dursleys was irregular to begin with. Albus Dumbledore, who is Head of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts School, placed the boy with the Dursley's within twenty-four hours of the death of the Potters, disregarding their wills, and within seventy-two hours had guardianship not only assigned to him, but had then in turn signed it over to Petunia Dursley. With the death of the Dursleys, Dumbledore is once again trying to claim guardianship of Mr. Potter. He has no legal recourse this time, as the excuse he used last time, that Mr. Potter was in immediate danger, is untrue. He will not be able to force the issue, either, as the people named in the Potter's wills are either in prison or long term hospital care and cannot contest Petunia Dursley's placement. However, Firmgrasp is of the opinion, and I happen to agree, that if Dumbledore could locate the boy he would not be above kidnapping."
"Why is he so obsessed with Cadet Potter?" asked Phillips.
"We believe that Dumbledore wishes control of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, in order to use him as a rally point against the Dark wizard, Voldemort, should he return," said Wilson.
Phillips shook his head and said, "I afraid I don't understand. The boy who lived? Dark wizards?"
Wilson chuckled slightly and settled back into his chair, "It's a history lesson you need then." He proceeded to explain to Commander Phillips the history of Harry Potter and the war with the dark.
He finished up with; "Firmgrasp believes that Mr. Potter should be informed of all of this as well, but I hate to overload him with information. The book I'm going to send with make him familiar with the Wizarding World in general and some of the difference between here and Britain. We are much more progressive here in the US. Then, after the testing, I thought I'd set down with Mr. Potter and answer any questions he has."
Commander Phillips nodded his head, "I agree, this isn't something to hold back as it has direct bearing on Cadet Potter being able to protect himself. Knowledge is power, after all, but after the testing would work well I think." Then he changed the subject, "I hesitate to speak ill of the dead but do you know much about the Dursleys? I have some concerns over Cadet Potter's treatment at their hands."
Wilson shook his head and said, "No, when Mrs. Dursley assigned temporary custody to your Academy the Trust administrator insisted she also assign the Trust the right to appoint a guardian in the event of her death. Firmgrasp had no further contact with them after that. In fact, they actually were killed nearly six months ago. We, the trust that is, would never have known if Dumbledore hadn't brought it to our attention that he was trying to find Mr. Potter. Apparently he'd been keeping an eye on Mr. Potter but somehow the Dursleys sending him here and then moving dropped them out of his sight for a while." He smirked slightly and Phillips chuckled.
"Well, Cadet Potter is doing very well in his studies. Once he realized he wouldn't be punished if he scored better than someone else, he began to excel and practically devours his books. He had some catching up to do but is at the head of his class now. He's probably the politest of the boys we've ever gotten and is very willing to work hard. You probably noticed he's small for his age; the smallest boy we have in fact. He still flinches as raised voices though he is getting over that. He does need some things so if you could set up a drawing account for him at our commissary today that would be excellent. How can I contact you?"Chapter 2
Harry noted the number on the office door in the HQ building and knocked. The door opened and he came to attention the way he'd been taught and said, "Cadet Potter, reporting as ordered,"
"Come in, Cadet," said the woman. She was short, with brown hair and smiling. "Have a seat. Do you know why you are here?"
"Yes ma'am, I am suppose to get my magic tested," Harry said, he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he was special instead of a freak. The other boys in his barracks didn't have magic.
"Good, now this won't hurt at all, so there is no reason to be afraid," she said as she laid out paper and a pen and a funny feather, a vial of something blue, and a gold ball.
"I'm not afraid, ma'am," said Harry.
She looked around at and laughed slightly, "Of course you're not, I don't know what I was thinking."
He wondered if she was laughing at him.
"My name is Becky, I'm going to explain as I go but if you have any questions, just ask."
Harry nodded and she drew out a stick.
"Excuse me Ma'am, what is that?" Harry asked.
She blinked for a moment and then muttered, "Ah, start with the basics then." Then louder she said, "This is my wand, I use it to channel my magic and cast spells." When he nodded, she went on.
"First I'm going to do a diagnostic charm and check your general health," she waved the wand and then flicked it at the pen, which jumped up and began writing on the paper. At this evidence of real magic at work, Harry grinned.
Becky returned his grin with a smile of her own. "Now I'm going to do a deeper scan to check your magic and see if there have ever been any spells cast on you." This time the wand circled his head in a spiral and then went up and down on either side of him. Another flick and the pen that had just stopped writing started again.
Becky laid her wand down on the table and picked up a golden ball the size of one of the other boy's magic eight ball.
"Now I'd like you hold on to this for a minute, it's going to measure your magical output level." She placed it in his hands, with the little window, where on the eight ball you'd read your answer, facing up. A gray smoke rose and displayed a number, 842. Becky frowned and tapped the ball with her wand erasing the number and watching carefully at the smoke rose again and 842 appeared. She shrugged, took the ball from him, and wrote something down on a different paper; then looked at the first one where the pen had finally stopped writing.
"Well, well, well," she said mostly to herself but Harry could still hear her, "an old tracking charm and a baby binder. Well we'll just get rid of those."
"Excuse me Ma'am, but what are they, tracking charm and baby binder?" he asked.
She smiled as she waved her wand again, "The tracking charm is a spell designed to locate you where ever you are. It isn't working because you're here in a place where the ambient magic of converging ley lines overpowers it. The baby binder is something stressed parents place on their infants when they start doing accidental magic very young. As I expect you did since your output level is higher than most. We will have to re-measure that after I remove the binder too," she paused a moment to gauge Harry's reaction, "Did you understand all that?"
"I think so, a tracker to find me if I was lost except it doesn't work here." He grinned, "But that's okay cause I'm not lost, and a binder because I did magic as a baby, too."
"That's right," she paused and bit her lip as she waved the wand some more and then Harry felt a small stinging like something being pulled out of the top of his head, "There that's got it. Let's try this again." She handed him the gold ball and this time it said 1012.
"Is that a good number?" he asked.
She chuckled, "It's a very good number, I expect you'll make a wonderful mage."
She wrote on the paper again.
"Now I need three drops of your blood in this vial so we can find out if you have any special talents. If you hold out your finger, it will only be a small pricking."
He held out his hand and she touched the end of her wand to his first finger, there was a very small prick and then she squeezed three drops out into the vial of blue stuff.
Harry found that, after another wand flick, he couldn't even tell where it was poked. Harry thought that magic was pretty cool.
"I thought having magic was a talent, is there more?" he questioned, watching Becky shake the vial and then stick the end of the feather into it where it absorbed all the liquid.
"Oh yes, well everyone who has magic can perform spells and such but there are other abilities that we call talents that some magic users have, that they have to work at to develop. There are a lot of different ones, this test is just to see if you have any and what they might be if you do so your teachers can tailor a course of study for you."
She pulled the feather, a quill Harry realized, and set it to writing on a fresh piece of paper.
After a minute or two the quill fell over and she picked up the paper to read it.
"My you are a talented boy," she said and handed the paper to him.Harry James Potter
Mage Sense 85
Elemental Affinity/Air 20
"But what does it mean, Ma'am?" he asked.
"Let me see it again. Okay, the numbers are percentages, you have to remember that these are abilities that a person just can learn. They have to have the ability before the can learn to use it. Animorph is the ability to turn into an animal and you have a 100 percent in that, so with training you can become an animagus, Parseltongue is speaking to snakes, Mage sense is seeing or feeling magic around you, Empathy is feeling other peoples', or sometimes animals', emotions, Metamorph is being able to change your appearance, Healing is being better able to heal either yourself or other people and sort of goes with the empathy, Elemental Affinity may be you can use air spells easier or fly better."
"Fly, magic people can fly?" asked Harry excitedly.
She smiled, "We use brooms to fly, I'm sure your teachers will have you learn. Now I'm going to make copies of all these papers for you; you can show them to your guardian. I'll file a report with the Bureau of Mages and send a copy to your advisor, Mr. Wilson."
She waved her wand and the papers dance together split into two piles and sorted themselves into file folders.
"Here you go, Cadet, you're free to go."