I do not own Harry Potter.
On an evening like October 31st 1981 there were a few things that were evident. Firstly, not a shriek could be heard. Secondly, in the morning a new world would form; a world that no longer cowered in fear but, a world that had potential, but unfortunately a world that would once again fail. Failure always leads to something else though. That something else is a hope, a hope that would be revered as one of the greatest saviors in the history of two worlds. Every mind in the world would know this name, but all for entirely different reasons. All hopes must start as something. This Hope started as an apprentice.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.
This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from him name to his boots was unwelcome.
He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seems to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number for, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars . . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
She threw a sharp, sideways glance a Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone --"
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying' You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she like my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead."
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . . Oh, Albus . . . "
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know . . . I know . . . " he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But -- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done . . . all the people he's killed . . . he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding . . . of all the things to stop him . . . but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, 'Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."
"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like up. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and the said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does ten to -- what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at they sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in from of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild -- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved, "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?""No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.".
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where --?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's house.
"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles --"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.
For a full minute the three of them stood and looked a the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Yeah,"said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into like; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve ball of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley ... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!" (exert taken from Philosopher's Stone by JK Rowling)
A cloaked man stood, watching the scene from a distance. After seeing Albus Dumbledore and his friend leave the man quickly went and took the bundled boy and apparated away.
Six Years Later.
Apprentice. Apprentice. Those words echoed in the boy's ears as he silently cut wood for himself and more importantly his master so that they could both stay warm for the night. To a stranger it would be odd to see a boy of seven cutting wood, and most would be right about that, but this boy was no ordinary boy.
He was a wizard.
You see, six years ago a terrible occurrence happened. A monstrous wizard named Voldemort went into a family's home and attempted to murder the whole family. Attempted. He did not succeed because a strange happening took place. The wizard or dark wizard was killed by his own reflecting curse. The Killing Curse was a deadly curse that killed anyone it touched. Somehow though, when the curse left Voldemort's wand and hit Harry Potter, the last remaining member of the family, it did not kill him. Instead something odd happened. The curse bounced off Harry's forehead and hit Voldemort. The force of Voldemort's spirits leaving his body left a nerve wracking force which destroyed the entire house, but as far as anyone knew, Voldemort was gone. Like that, he was gone. This caused one world to rejoice because of a new hope. The other world was affected too, because those mysterious break-ins and murders of random people stopped. No matter what, once something is connected it will never fully be severed.
The boy of seven had always been an apprentice. He had known no other life. His master had told him how he found the boy. His master told him of the murder of his parents, and how he got his scar. He told him of the manipulations of people. He told him of the powers he held, and how he got his scar. That was why he did everything in his power to learn. The boy knew that he was special, and so he did everything in his power to gain knowledge. His master told him one more thing. His name was Harry Potter.
Harry Potter walked back to the campgrounds he and his master were staying at so that he could learn survival. Most wizards would've cringed at the word muggle. Even the muggleborn wizards were so used to magic that muggle was foreign to them, and yet Harry Potter did not complain. He knew the importance of the Muggle World and its methods.
"Apprentice Harry! How good to finally see you. You are three minutes late, and I do not have to repeat what that means," Harry's Master or Nicholas Flamel told him.
"Yes, of course I know what it means. I have to make dinner for 3 weeks," Harry told him deadpanned.
"It's so nice not having an apprentice that requires me to restate everything I state," Nicholas muttered to himself before adding, " I'd like Lamb Chops today, so I suggest you get started right away, and by the way, you can't use magic."
Harry groaned. Even though he understood the need to learn muggle skills, that didn't mean he enjoyed finding a lamb, killing it and cooking supper without using an ounce of magic. It was times like these when being an apprentice had a downside. Harry went to gather his equipment and find a lamb to slaughter.
Four Years later
"Apprentice Harry!" Nicholas's voice cried. "We need to talk about something!"
At the sound of his master's voice, Harry closed his book and rushed downstairs. As he was running he tripped on the stairs causing him to skid down a massive spiral staircase. At the bottom of the stone staircase his master was trying very hard to not laugh.
After a few minutes of moaning in pain from hitting his head on many steps of the stone staircase he got up. He cast a spell on himself to numb his headache before looking at his master. His master had finally given in and was upright laughing so hard that his mahogany coffee table was vibrating. Harry gave his master a 'you're an idiot' look before he started laughing as well.
After a while Harry and Nicholas both stopped laughing. Almost instantaneously Nicholas's face changed from delight to something very serious. Harry knew it had to be quite important so he matched his master's look so that he could look more serious for the occasion.
"As you know--"Nicholas started, before he was interrupted by his apprentice.
"That Hogwarts has sent me an invitation letter to go to that wretched school," Harry finished.
"Cheeky brat…" Nicholas muttered, knowing that Harry had been spying on him again.
"However, you will be going to Hogwarts, despite the fact that you said that it's a wretched school," Nicholas said, expecting his apprentice to look somewhat shocked.
Harry just looked at him with a neutral face before saying, "Let me guess, you finally gave Dumbledore the Philosopher's Stone to guard and you want me to check up on it?" Harry said Dumbledore with quite a lot of venom. Harry did not like the man but he could tolerate him.
"I don't ever recall telling you about the stone…" Nicholas began looking thoughtful.
"You didn't, I'm just that good," Harry said arrogantly.
"Anyway," Nicholas said. "You and Perenell are going to get your stuff in fifteen minutes."
Harry inwardly groaned. He loved Perenell like a mother but that was her problem. She was too motherly. She was much like the matriarch of the Weasley Family except she had over six hundred more years of experience. He knew Perenell would stop at every store and try to get him everything in the store.
After realizing Harry's displeasure of shopping with his 'mother' he laughed and said, "Good luck!" and gave Harry a mock salute as if he was going to fight in a war.
"Weird old man…" Harry muttered before going upstairs to get ready.
Harry Potter was not one to look tacky or poor. He wore designer clothes and shoes so you can imagine the fuss someone like him would have if they were to travel by the floo.
"Ahhhhhh!" Harry screamed as the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron Inn spat him out. Harry dusted himself before waiting for Perenell to come out. He half-hoped, half expected her to land the same way he did but much to his chagrin she came out standing and fully intact.
"Aunt Per, you have to tell me how to do that," Harry implored.
Perenelle simply laughed and grabbed his hand and went into the Diagon Alley.
"Welcome, to Diagon Alley," she said.
The both headed to Gringotts, the wizard bank to withdraw some money from their vault. After a few minutes of walking forward nonstop they arrived at a majestic building that had an odd poem on the door. Harry decided to read the poem.
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Hmmm, someone must've tried to rob Gringotts for them to put this poem there, Harry thought to himself.
They walked in where they were immediately greeted by the Head of the London Branch of Gringotts, Ragnok the Shrewd.
"Mrs. Flamel, Apprentice Flamel, what can I do for the two of you?" He said to one of his biggest clients.
"We would like to make a withdrawal," Mrs. Flamel said.
"Of course," Ragnok said before loudly saying, "GRIPHOOK! Please escort the Flamels to their vault."
"Of course, Master Ragnok," Griphook said before motioning for the two of them to follow him.
After a nice fifteen minutes of riding a mine cart a very green Perenell Flamel and a very happy Harry Flamel exited the cart with Griphook. A giant gold door that said Vault 714 stood before them. The door opened and there standing in front of them were mountains of gold coins and seas of bronze and silver coins. This was normal to them because they owned the Philosopher's Stone.
Harry and Perenell Flamel went inside and withdrew gold from the vault. After five minutes they had garnered enough gold for another year. They made their way back up and they left the building, this time the both of them looking very green. Clearly the ride up was VERY different.
Perenell then grabbed his arm and they started walking to the first store. No matter how many times he tried to remove her arm from his she would not let go. It was like they were welded together.
After a few times she looked at him and began to rant, "You want me to leave you alone in this Alley! Where wizards from all over the world come from! You must be joking! For Merlin's sake you could be kidnapped!" Harry suddenly found the sky above the alley very interesting because he knew that if he looked down he would be humiliated.
"Okay, pet's first," Harry said. "I'd like an owl."
"Humph. Very well, let's go to the owl emporium then." Perenell replied "but you had better take care of it."
After fifteen minutes of searching the two of them found an eagle owl
After three hours only two stores were left. Perenell finally said, "Okay, you can go and get your wand while I go get your Potion Ingredients."
Harry disguised himself and then went to the Wand Shop in Knockturn Alley since he knew Nicholas and Ollivander, the owner of the Diagon Alley wand store, did not get along too well after Grindelwald's War.
Harry entered Gregorovich's shop and looked around for Mr. Gregorovich. Out of nowhere he appeared and tapped Harry on the shoulder causing him to jump slightly.
"Ah! I've been expecting you, Harry Flamel." Gregorovich said in a thick Bulgarian accent before adding, "You've been in my shop one too many times to know that disguises don't work here."
"Yes, but now I am here to purchase my first official wand," Harry said.
Gregorovich raised his eyebrows at that comment but simply said, "Come along, Mr. Flamel, or is it Potter?"
"I go by Flamel, Mr. Gregorovich," Harry said in an all business voice.
"You're right handed, correct?" Gregorovich asked.
"Yes, I am." Harry stated.
"Very well then, Dragon Heart string with a 13 and ½ inch long body," He told him as he handed him the first wand, but he immediately took it away as soon as Harry held it. Harry would've questioned that action normally but he had already done this before.
Harry tried around ten more wands before Gregorovich said, "Enchanted Emerald with a 12 inch body. This one has been unused since 1066. I recently found it while walking on the same beach William the Conqueror stormed. It appears to have been dropped on the beach."
Harry held the wand in his hand and it immediately gave off a semi-blinding emerald green light.
"Ha-Ha! I knew I would find you another one," Gregorovich said. "Oh, you should also know that the wand has a brother. You have the brother wand to Albus Dumbledore's wand; I believe they call it the Elder Wand."
Harry's eyes slightly widened at that revelation. "Thanks, but how much do I owe you?"
"Ah, that wand is not my own so I cannot charge you for it, but the holster that it comes with costs thirteen galleons," Gregorovich said.
Harry rolled his eyes at the old man's antics but paid him thirteen galleons nonetheless. He left the shop and quickly ran back to the spot where they were going to meet. When he arrived a very angry Perenell Flamel was waiting.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!? YOU HAVE BEEN GONE FOR OVER FIFTEEN MINUTES LONGER THAN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO!" Perenell screamed.
Harry groaned and explained the situation on his wand. Perenell simply huffed and they both apparated back to the Manor.
"Wait! We could've apparated instead of talking the floo?!?!" Harry half-said half-yelled.
"Yes, but where is the fun in that?" she asked him.
He simply sighed muttering something on old ladies and their weird pleasures. She gave him a 'I heard that' look and then she gave him a 'I will not hesitate to kick your ass' look. Harry darted away from the room that they were in and went upstairs to his room. He found the book he had been reading and began to read again.
A/n: Good day everyone! Read and review. There will be no slash in this story. This will not be a Harry gains power and wealth out of nowhere story. He will train very hard for his power and skill. Don't like- Don't read. Pairing... undecided. Oh and thanks again to JK Rowling for the exert from PS. Thanks. Happy reading. Expect a chapter in 1 week or so.