Alrighty... What's that? Yes, I am perfectly aware I shouldn't be starting another story; but alas – with my muses from my current two stories deciding to take an indefinite holiday and this one inspiring me *sigh* I really get the feeling I've bitten of more than I can chew.
A lot of my inspiration comes from Pan06's Hope in the Cards and Shadow Crystal Mage's Cardcaptor Harry Season One and Hong Kong, so there will probably be things I have borrowed from them in here – note that they will be credited for their work should I insert any of it.
Summary: Dumbledore crosses the line, friends aren't really friends and Harry's just found (and accidentally set free) a bunch of super powerful cards, can anyone say oops. CCS/HP EH/HP Slash.
This is actually a wacky combination of both stories and my own insanity... Yeah; No, no! Don't run away – Please! *Puppy dog eyes* Just try it. Oh! You're staying? Yay!! Now, on with the fic.
(^ - Have borrowed directly or partially from Pan06)
(* - Have borrowed directly or partially from Shadow Crystal Mage)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I own neither Harry Potter or Cardcaptor Sakura – They belong to their respective owners and I claim no ownership or rights over them.
It was nearing the end of the first week of summer and Harry James Potter, the boy-who-lived, the Dark Lord's annoyance who-just-wouldn't-die, Chosen One to defeat said Dark Lord, Gryffindor Golden-boy and one third of the Golden Trio, Gryffindor Seeker, the youngest seeker in a century and that wasn't even counting the Philosopher's Stone incident, the Chamber of Secret's debacle, the Tri-wizard Tournament catastrophe and last year's Department of Mysteries tragedy was laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling dispassionately contemplating last year's fiasco.*
Sirius was gone.
It hardly seemed possible that the one person who was the only father-figure he could remember wasn't coming back.
It was late, so late it was early.^
'5am, looks like another night without any sleep then' he thought, getting up to have a shower before he had to fix breakfast for his relatives.
While in the shower he went back to contemplating, it was obvious to him that Dumbledore had been manipulating him all along, he went along with it, had been for years and so many people had died or been hurt for it – after all, it would of been easy for him as Supreme Mugwump to get Sirius a trial, both before he went to Azkaban and after he escaped, there were so many light-sided families that wouldn't have minded adopting him, but Dumbledore wanted him to be malleable and pliant so he could direct his chess-piece wear-so-ever he pleased – hell, he doubted Tom Riddle would have ever become Voldemort if not for the old man's mechanisms.
And so it was now Harry found himself a decision to make – bacon and eggs for breakfast or perhaps toast and cereal – but seriously... he was at a crossroads of sorts. He knew he could no longer be the mindless pawn he was pretending to be, the problem was finding the method he would take from here on out however, he needed a plan – a good one, a pity he'd never taken the time to plan anything of this magnitude before and therefore slightly at a loss on how to do so now – and this time he couldn't get help from Hermione – the thinker – or Ron – the strategist; because as of the end of last term the Golden Trio was split irreparably, Dumbledore had been using them to keep him being the good little boy who couldn't do anything without his grandfatherly mentors say so – Ron was brought in to keep him out of the library and on the quidditch pitch, and Hermione was there so he didn't have an excuse to go to the library – and that was just to keep him ignorant of the world he had entered. He had finally received a chance to the best he very could in his studies without fear of repercussions from his 'family' and he practically blew it in a desperate bid to have his friends like him, all the while they were being paid by the old coot with the money from the Potter family vaults – while the two didn't know it yet their friendship – however false – was over, after over hearing their conversation, if one could call their spitting diatribe a conversation – he had started the stunted development of his Slytherin side, ironically – a side he didn't know he had been using for years. And with his Slytherin side he could be unstoppable – now he just needed a viable plan.
In the end he decided on a full English breakfast, with the sheer volume of food his Uncle and Cousin ate, they would complain of not enough variety in their 'diet'. Not that they ever ate anything not of English origin, after all everything else was foreign after all, and there wasn't any chance of them even touching anything foreign – and since cooking was second nature to him he continued to peruse his options, watching the food with half an eye. He needed to visit Gringotts and talk with the goblins about Dumbledore and his vaults and if it really was his destiny to defeat Voldemort he needed to know everything he could get his hands on. Okay, that's two things he could expand on later – what else did he need to consider before playing his hand...
A place to train; he sure as hell couldn't do it here.
And he needs to find the full story. The story without Dumbledore's half-truths, accents and blatant lies.
Those damned Underage Wizardry laws. Enough said.
Eleven hours, eighteen different chores, lunch, dinner and an almost completed plan later, Harry was in the same position he was in at five that morning when Pig flew in through the open window which had been opened to let in the pleasant evening breeze.
"Oh no." He said quietly to himself "Probably telling me how much fun they're having, to not blame myself for Sirius and 'angry' at me for not writing to them yet. I don't really want to deal with this."
Hey Mate, why haven't you written to us yet – you're Uncle hasn't locked Hedwig in again has he.
Ron's decided he can't write his own letter, so he's defacing mine – really, of all the nerve.
But Dumbledore said we can't risk too many letters, they might be able to trace it.
My, he actually has a decent reason, who would have thought. I've told Ron he can write his part after I'm finished, so we won't have any more interruptions.
Our summer's been fairly good so far, more cleaning of you-know-where, there's so many fascinating things here, apparently there's a library in here somewhere, I was really hoping I'd be able look around – after they'd removed the more questionable items of course – but the room can only be accessed by a member of the Black family, I was so disappointed.
Anyway, this brings me to another topic I wanted to talk to you about, you do know that it wasn't you're fault right – there's no way you could have known what you-know-who was up too.
Anyway, I'll hand the letter over to Ron now.
Finally, her and her books – do know she's completed all her homework already, barmy I tell you – it'd be fine if she wasn't nagging me to do the same.
But, you know she'd right though, don't you. Wow, newsflash of the century – Hermione's right, and I'd better move on before that glare changes into something more dangerous.
Where was I? Oh yeah, it isn't your fault, what happened with Sirius.
Well, the families up to what they usually do...
Mum's nagging us to death, Dad's trying to recruit people from the ministry for the you-know what, Bill's still working with Gringotts at the moment though they've temporarily transferred him to the main division here in England, Charlie's back in Romania for a while, Percy's a git – Enough said, the Twin's are still inventing more pranks – I think they're up to something else though and Ginny, I think Ginny's in link with Twins you know – it's scary, that is.
That's about all that's going on, write back okay – and think about what we said.
Ron. And Hermione.
P.S. Honestly, the nerve of him, signing my letter off like that.
'Is it just me or am I only now figuring out how false this sounds, I mean – what a load of bull.' He thought incredulously 'It's almost as if they do want me to blame myself, but I wouldn't put it past them – just trying to keep me Dumbledore's little weapon... I hate being small – I hate it even more when I refer to myself as small *sigh*'
Okay, so he needed to speed up part one of 'The Plan', as it was becoming known as – not very original, but it didn't really need to be. Oh well, to Gringotts tomorrow, luckily his 'family' was going to London tomorrow, and he had just the way to getting them to comply with demands, smirking not unlike Snape or Malfoy, (he could suddenly tell why they loved that facial expression so much) and getting off his bed he decided to get this chat with his relatives out the way now.
"Uncle Vernon?" He inquired getting his families attention.
"What is it boy. Can't you see we're busy?" He snapped gruffly, as he turned away from some sort of comedy program on the TV. 'Oh yeah, real busy Uncle.'
"I need help getting into London tomorrow, and thought, since you were already going to London – that you could drop me of on Charring Cross Rd." Wow, turning red already.
"No." Was all the fat man said to that idea.
"But if you don't drop me off, I'll have to summon the Knight Bus – and I didn't think you wanted to see a triple-decker violently purple bus turn up on your side walk with a nice loud bang – I'm being respectful to your wishes to have nothing that could possibly be associated with" he dropped his voice down to a whisper "You-Know-What." Raising voice to its proper volume once again " It's the only other way I can get to London, either you take me or I'll have to summon the bus – and really, anything that loud is bound to attract a lot of attention, what would the neighbours think"
From there things got easy very quickly, though his uncle looked as though he was constipated, his aunt as though she'd swallowed a lemon and his cousin decided ignoring everything that was going on the best course of action, wow – an intelligent decision from the whale, that's a first.
The one reason he went to all this trouble, the Order couldn't stop him from leaving if he was going out with his 'family'.
The first thing Harry did upon reaching The Leaky Cauldron the next morning was grab The Daily Prophet and find out what was going during his Dumbledore-imposed exile – true, it was only a week; but it was exile all the same and while The Prophet was mostly full of nonsense, it was always good to find out what the masses thought – even if it was ridiculous.
'Skeeter nonsense, Skeeter nonsense, more Skeeter nonsense; my that woman must be paid a lot' he thought dryly 'Oh hello, De Lune – never heard of him before, well written and seems to prefer actually write news if this article is any indication and more Skeeter nons- wait just a goddamned minute! What fan mail now?' Incredulously, he went on to read the whole article instead of just skimming it.
Chosen One Snubs Public Gratitude and Well Wishes?
Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter.
Almost sixteen year old Harry James Potter has done much for our community and the world as a whole – having defeated You-Know-Who at only one and witnessing his re-birth at fourteen and then suffering the next year, insisting He had returned despite those who labelled him as mentally unstable because of this and while this young man has done so much for us – it is natural that there are many among us that wish to express thanks and many have done so by sending letters and gifts.
However, despite years of gratitude – this has all gone unanswered.
Is this really what it seems, or have we got our Boy-Who-Lived wrong again.
This reporter will endeavour to find out.
'WHAT... THE... HELL?! Of course you idiot! You're famous! Didn't you think something was strange about the whole thing – surely some deluded fan person would have tried to send some sort of correspondence.'
"I see you've seen my article, Mr Potter." Harry almost jumped out of his skin after suddenly hearing Skeeter behind him.
"Oh, Skeeter! Give a guy some warning!" He exclaimed breathlessly.
"So sorry Mr. Potter." Sounding anything but, eyes sparkling with mirth. "What do you say you give me an interview, the full story." Just as he was about vehemently refuse, a unholy thought ran through his mind – and the smirk that appeared on his face could only be described as such.
Skeeter looked astounded such a look could grace their saviours face.
"Of course Ms. Skeeter. Shall we take this somewhere more privet – one of the parlours perhaps?" She looked surprised that he was agreeing, then her face lit up in joy.
"Perfect, thank you for this chance to question you." So, five minutes later they were making themselves comfortable in parlour seven with a pot of tea.
"Now Ms. Skeeter, there is only one issue I won't budge on; everything must be written as I say it." Seeing her disheartened expression, he reassured her. "Oh, don't worry – this is one story where the truth will be much more enjoyable – I guarantee you that once word gets out about it, every single copy will sell. The Complete Unabridged Biography of The Boy-Who-Lived, how does that sound as a headline – hell, by the time we're finished it'd probably be a book." He now knew why she looked so disconcerted not five minutes before hand as her face displayed the same unholy glee he had.
Then they set about documenting his life; no matter how he hated the fame, the truth of the manipulations, lies and making them see – even those who were firmly light-sided weren't always good people. The world needed to change, and since no one else was willing to do it – he would.
Four hours later...
"You really did all that in your first year – I mean trolls, jinxed brooms, possessed teachers, You-Know-Who and you still had to deal with Snape's animosity because of who your father was? How are you still alive now?"
"If that surprises you I shudder to think how you'll react to the rest of the story, let's take a break, outlining my life like this is depressing." He smiled roguishly, stretching.
"Of course, why don't we continue this on Saturday, we'll meet at half past nine if that's all right with you."
"Sounds great, see you then." He answered standing.
On entering Diagon Alley, he made his way straight to Gringotts as previously planned, although it had been delayed a good few hours, making his way through the banks solid and rather ominous doors he made his way to the nearest empty teller.
"Business?" snapped the goblin, Shorsmit – according to the nameplate.
"Who would I have to speak to regarding will's, inheritance and the suspicion that someone may or may not be making unauthorised withdrawals on my account respectively?"
"Will's and inheritances are Ragbol's duty, you're last issue is more delicate, what kind of unauthorised withdrawals." Shorsmit asked gruffly, Harry had gotten his attention – Goblin's didn't like thieves.
"I believe Dumbledore may or may not have been unjustly put in the position of Magical Guardian, allowing him access to my accounts I haven't approved, which is why I wish to see my parents will's – the best case scenario is that they had no wish for him to be my Magical Guardian and we can simply block him from the Potter accounts, if he is named – it will make it a bit harder, but I want in no uncertain terms for him to have no access to my vaults."
'Hmm, the look of unholy glee was popular today' He thought, trying to prevent his instinctive urge to recoil 'Much scarier on a Goblin'
"You're in luck – our community doesn't much like the old human and because he's hasn't shown you the will of your parents, which is illegal by the way – we can take this to senior management. Wait one moment please."
"Of course. Thank you." Shorsmit directed a surprised glance at Harry, before going about alerting the correct goblins to this rather severe oversight.
After smoothing out the basics, (the will, completely blocking a certain old man from all accounts and figuring out that yes his mail had been blocked after not receiving bank statements) Harry decided to make an appointment (one-thirty on the same Saturday he was meeting Rita, as she had asked him to call her)so he could calm down and handle the matter once he had gotten his head straight and decided to move into one of the many secure properties the Potter family owned.
The goblin's had actually been very accommodating, sending a house elf to pick up his things when he expressed in passing that it would be exceptionally difficult to gather his things and leave without the order interfering, seems they didn't much like the order much either, also supplying a port-key to the property (for a price, of course – they were, after all goblins. Harry also left them a generous tip for their troubles.)
The place he had chosen wasn't big by most well-to-do pure-blood standards but was still a rather large property, by Harry's standards anyway, the white bricked home had seven bedrooms, four bathrooms, large combined kitchen and dining, a potions lab in the basement, recreation room and to Harry's great joy – a huge library, no doubt it had been magically expanded; it was bigger than the Hogwarts library, which due to insomnia, he had exhausted.
You see to Harry, keeping the first friends he'd ever made was more important than getting good grades, he'd always stayed around Ron's level so he wouldn't become a jealous prat and the only real thing Hermione was good at was reading and retaining knowledge – he didn't want to take that away from her. But that didn't stop his curious nature and desire to learn anything he could get his hands on; retaining the knowledge was getting easier as well.
He pulled away from the room with a longing look but decided packing his things away was more important for now. As he was leaving the library, he thought he felt something pull at him.
Over two hundred miles away, a pair of eyes flashed violet. "It begins, it seems."
The colour scheme of the house was gorgeous; all royal purples, sapphire blues and jade greens. All colours Harry loved incidentally; in fact the whole house looked as though it had been specially built to suit his tastes, but it was more plausible that he had a relative who was extremely likeminded.
When he got back to the master bedroom; the room he had decided to claim as his own, he found that his things packed away, as if he'd been living here for years.
"I wonder if there are any house elves here." He said out loud in his confusion, the words had hardly gotten out of his mouth before five of the little servers popped into his room.
"Master is calling us at last! I is Tricksy – Tricksy is the head elf here at Lune le Sol! This is Mipsy, Artsy, Otsy and Bobby – Bobby is new sirs." It seems Tricksy was as excitable as Dobby.
"Lune le Sol?" He inquired "Is that the name of this place?"
"Yes, Lune le Sol is its name Master." She said bouncing. That sounds a lot like that reporters name – De Lune, I think; yeah that's right – he should be getting that letter soon.
As it turns out, André De Lune was in the same year as my parents in Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw the same as his mother, which was strange to find out because he always thought she was a Gryffindor; anyway, it seems as though he was on his parents list of potential guardians, it turns out that they also expressly forbid anyone to put him with the Dursleys, so a certain headmaster was in trouble for circumventing the law, when Harry decided to charge him for it anyway, it'd make for good blackmail too. Anyway, a letter had been sent out to Mr. De Lune sounding out the possibility of guardianship and Harry was understandably nervous about the whole process – the goblin's he had spoken positively of the French-man; or as positively as a goblin could ever speak of a human, it was the only reason he decided to risk contacting him.
Besides, the man had known his mother very well, everybody always spoke of his father and what a great person he was but he knew very little about his mom; perhaps he would fill in the blanks for him even if he didn't want to become guardian to, in Harry's opinion, a very messed up not-quite-sixteen-year-old boy.
"Master? Is Master okay?" Tricksy asked
"Hah, oh, yeah, I'm okay – how about you all just call me Harry, I don't know about this Master stuff." The elves eyes widened
"But we couldn't Master! Yous is our Master, yous should be addressed as such – we coul-"
"How about we compromise and you call me Master Harry." He said, cutting off what he knew was going to be quite a long rant.
Their eyes lit up at his words "Yes Master Harry Potter Sir! We's needing to be going to clean now – is Master Harry Potter Sir needing anything more?"
"No, that's fine – it was good meeting you all." Oh no, they were about to start bawling about how great and kind he was, he decided to cut that off before it started. "You're dismissed, thank you."
And they all popped away, he breathed a sigh of relief, 'That was close.' He decided to take a closer look at the room, it really was beautiful – and huge.
The large four-poster bed looked to be made some sort of metal, compared to all the others he had seen in the Magical World were crafted with wood, he wouldn't be able to tell you what kind of metal – probably something strong like steal, though it looked a lot like silver – hm, damn, now he was deliberating over it, it was going to annoy him until he got answers now. The hangings were the royal purple with the jade green hiding the tracks, the materials were a combination of satin and silk – or at least he thought it was. The bedding was in the sapphire blue, with silver, purple and green embroidered patterns; the same materials as the hangings as well.
The curtains on the bay view windows were in purple; the carpet a darker shade of blue than the bedding and the walls were a lighter shade.
The lamps on the bedside tables and on the work desk were green; all in all it was a very nice room, almost uncanny though – it was like he had decorated it himself – he decided he would think about it later. Flopping down onto the bed, he fell asleep – it had been a very long day after all.
The next two days were a whirl of activity, he'd met André at Gringotts, who had told him he'd be honoured to adopt him formally as Harry's mother was more like a sister than just merely a good friend and they proceeded to spend the next few hours just getting to know each other at The Leaky Cauldron. After confessing that he'd like to stay at Lune le Sol, André had told him he was renting anyway, having only just gotten back from France and didn't much like his lodgings. So that issue was solved.
André was a tall man, making Harry feel even shorter in comparison, he had shoulder-length red hair that was a few shades darker than his mothers and his eyes were a strange gold colour and ivory coloured skin. He seemed quite angry when he found out just why Harry was as small as he was and when he told him that he probably wasn't going to get much taller because of the malnutrition but they could get him healthy with the use of potions, Harry jumped at the chance to look normal rather than half-starved.
After getting him moved in and comfortable with his surroundings, they decided to go into the library and talk about their interests and other such things, Harry who hadn't had a chance to back into the huge room since his initial tour was excited, even if it was only sitting in there by the fire with butterbeer and the cookies that were still warm. When entered the room though, he felt it again, that pulling feeling had come back, a touch of magic was different from the rest, out of place,^ insistently tugging at him, guiding him deep into the labyrinth of books.
André followed him worriedly, not quite knowing what he should do, it was dangerous to try and pull the possessed out of their trances – both for the possessed and the person with well-meaning intentions.
Just as he decided he'd risk it, Harry stopped. Just stopped. That's when a strange red-leather bound book started glowing – glowing of all things, how very strange, but then Harry seemed okay again now.
Harry seemed to hesitate in deciding to take the book off the shelf.
"Harry, what're you thinking?"
"I've dealt with a book that possesses people before and it wasn't a pleasant experience – a part of me really wants to take it off the shelf and another is remembering my past experiences."
"It's a library belonging to the Potter family, so I doubt it's anything dark. It's you're call buddy."
"It calls to me André, it feels like it's mine."
"It's in your library kid, I think it is yours."
"Not like that. It feels as though it's been waiting for me, like it was meant for me." And in saying in that he reached for the glowing book, just as he touched the glowing stopped, Harry hesitated for a moment longer before pulling it off the shelf.
"The Clow – What an odd name for a book." He said as he observed the front cover, the lion placed there seemed to be sleeping "Strange, why go to the bother of locking the book then having the guardian asleep?"^
"Let's see, hmm, that does seem strange."
"Feels like something's missing from the back though, I don't know – maybe I really am going mad." Harry said as he turned it right way up again, sitting back down by the fire.
A small click was heard, and the lock fell away from the cover.
He opened the book revealing an indentation around four inches by two filled with-
"Cards, this keeps getting weirder at every moment." He lifted three of them out from where they lay. They seemed to display sprites, a beautiful woman with long hair and dress-like robe holding a set of scales all in a shade of pastel green with the words The Libra underneath – he presumed this to be the cards name, as strange as that sounded; next a wolf-like creature who fur looked like it was charged with static electricity that was an electric-white colour, it could have quite possibly been static electricity considering its name was The Thunder; and the last was an extraordinary pastel yellow fairy-like creature who looked amazingly serene. "Windy, hmm."
And that was all he managed before a golden circle appeared beneath his feat and what proceeded could only be described as devastating.