Leaving it all behind
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter except a copy of the books. No, the honour belongs to Ms JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry knew about the horcruxes when he is faced with betrayal. Fleeing, he enters a new school. If he has to die then he will drag the SOB Voldemort with him. Facing death, Harry leaves it all behind. HPxOMC AU!4567!
Inspiration: Go read Bloody Skies by Toki Mirage. It is simply brilliant! And Miranda Flairgold! Geniuses I tell thee! I bow to them and Ms Rowling!
Beta-d by skyflyte12, 22/5/10
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings and desperate men,
And dost wit poison, war and sickness dwell.
-'Death be not proud' by John Donne.
Harry stared at the endless black, wondering at how not even the stars could brighten the night sky.
Strangely ironic, now that he thought of it; it was like a representation of his whole existence. The death of his parents, his mother's sacrifice, being a saviour, Sirius's death and now, on his sixteenth birthday, Harry could only see his future in death and, oddly enough, the sky. He chuckled dryly to himself before whispering to the dark, "Now I know I've spent too much time alone."
"It shall be a Red Dawn. Bloods will be spilt in the night,"* he couldn't help but quote as emeralds hid from the world. Even if only for a moment.
Contemplating it all in a melancholic frame of mind, Harry concluded that his life was either a Shakespearean tragedy or a modern sci-fi fantasy novel for children and young adults.
In his fourth year, it was the Triwizard Tournament that started it all. He was forced to participate in a contest that could kill him and everyone but Hermione – all those people who he had recognised as his friends – turned their backs on him.
Even Ron, his best friend, turned his back on him.
That had hurt the most and became a frightful reminder to him of a 'friend' that he'd had in primary school. Ron was ruled by his jealousy and had shown his true colours on more than one occasion, now that he looked back on it objectively.
Hermione was an awesome friend, but she trusted books and adults in positions of authority way too much for his own comfort.
It was strange that preparing to face the dangerous tournament alone, trying to survive on his own merits and hard work, meant that his thirst for knowledge was reborn, and with a greater intensity than ever before.
It was not like he wanted to memorise every fact that he came across – no, that was not his goal.
He wanted to gain a deeper understanding of the magic around him. The knowledge and insight into his own magic.
And then there was Cedric.
Dear Lord that had been a disaster.
Harry blushed a furious red as he recalled his first encounter with the grey-eyed male during the summer when they were both going to the Quidditch World Cup.
The Hufflepuff seeker sent shivers down his spine, and that was how Harry discovered his attraction to the elder male. Terrified out of his mind, he latched onto the most bearable and appropriate female to crush on; Cho Chang.
And then came Voldemort and Cedric's... that year ended in a nightmare even without taking Fudge being a blathering idiot into account.
Fifth year was haunted by nightmares, slander and Sirius. And that was only by Christmas time. Some Christmas present: Sirius's death. They broke into the Department of Mysteries after escaping the mad Umbitch and her conspiracies. Harry only concocted the fool-hardy plan on the notion that he was saving his godfather.
But he ended up killing him instead.
He had felt a part of himself shatter as he watched the man fall through the Veil. And then, bare hours later, there was that damned prophecy that Dumbledore finally decided he was 'of sufficient age' to know! According to it, he had to kill or be killed by old Moldyshorts.
And about the Horcruxes... with all the new information that the Headmaster revealed it was no wonder that Harry blew up his office.
The Old Coot deserved it.
The second half of the year was spent searching for the horcruxes and grieving. Oh, and the Ministry finally admitting that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not a figment of Harry's insane and broken mind and was actually back from the dead.
The year had been a nightmare; no two ways about it.
All of this led to one very important event.
Voldemort waged an attack on Hogwarts and the war began.
Harry had fought in the front lines and he shuddered at the memories. The blood stained the stone walls of the ancient castle. Luna died that day. As did Ginny and Dean. Along with almost a hundred other students. Harry at least killed Nagini, who was a suspected horcrux, and faced down Snakeface himself before Dumbledore stepped in. The Deathmunchers retreated when Voldemort did.
But that was not the end.
Harry panted heavily as he stood his ground.
Blood dripped from his forehead and various other injuries even as he kept a death grip on his broken wand. Looking up, he smiled at Dumbledore. The man had once again saved his life.
Though the duel raised the important question of just how he, a fifteen year old boy, was supposed to kill one of the most feared wizards of the century.
Especially with his wand snapped. His wand couldn't handle the connection; it had vibrated to shattering point. Both wands had been damaged, but Harry's had snapped completely just before Dumbledore stepped in and duelled Voldemort, leaving Harry to duel a Death Eater with a wand he scavenged from a dead body nearby.
Blue eyes looked at him with no twinkle as Dumbledore's face was set in neutral, his wand raised and pointed directly at Harry. He stared back, confused at his mentor.
"Sir?" he rasped out, voice hoarse from shouting spells, "Is something wrong?"
Dumbledore shook his head and smiled sadly, "I am afraid, my dear boy, that I have discovered what the prophecy meant."
Emerald eyes shone with hope as Harry eagerly asked, "What is it sir?" Thinking that maybe there a way out for him.
"Harry, I did a spell to locate Voldemort's horcruxes, using your blood. It was a stretch but it worked seeing as He now possesses your blood too. I have located all of them and destroyed all but four. You killed Nagini so there are three left. One in Voldemort himself, and another in a Gringotts Vault that will be destroyed very soon. That leaves only the last." Dumbledore took a deep breath and shook his head; "I am sorry Harry, but neither can live while the other survives."
The next moment was a blur as Harry found himself disarmed and at wand point from all sides.
Looking around, he saw all the professors and even Ron and Hermione pointing their wands at him. Confused, he looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. "Sir?" His voice trembled.
"The last horcrux is you. That is how you got some of his powers. I am sorry my boy, but for the Greater Good you must die." And everything went black.
When Harry came around he was in a cell, shackled and wandless. Everyone had agreed; everyone had betrayed him. His life for theirs. One life for millions. They were going to extract the soul, which would probably kill him.
The cell was in a dungeon of sorts; it was dark and dank. Stone walls, 4x4m and with bars.
There was no one; food appeared alone.
He was just another object to be destroyed. Locked away until then.
It had been almost three weeks of nothing to do but think and stare out of the enchanted window.
And now, on the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry James Potter was going to die by the hands of his friends and those he called family in a ritual.
Harry sighed as he stared at the barely visible stars. The time in complete isolation had changed things. He actually thought about his life up until that point and came to the conclusion that the only people who truly knew him were the Dursleys.
They never pretended to care or be interested in him for hidden agendas.
This, in his eyes, was more humane than toying with a human being for years before driving in the knife poised at their back.
Dumbledore saw him as a weapon. Ron saw him as his ticket to fame. Hermione may have seen him as a friend, but she also saw him as the saviour. The professors saw him as his parents.
To the world, he was their sacrifice; their scapegoat.
No one knew Harry.
And that hurt.
Footsteps approached the cell causing Harry to turn his head to the newcomer. Violet robes with clouds, moons and stars met his vision. Harry's blood boiled as he realised exactly who was there – Dumbledore. The man he trusted and looked up to.
The man who may have manipulated everything, but in the end was still human, still fallible.
Oh Harry felt rage and contempt for the man. Dumbledore was trying to save the world, a world he saw as his own personal chess board. The feelings were conflicted but Harry knew one thing.
He definitely felt betrayed.
Whatever naivety was left in him after all these years was totally gone now. The world was a cruel, painful, sorrow-filled place. And he was expendable.
"It is time Harry. The new moon is almost in its position. I am sorry my boy, but this is the only way." The old man said, his voice tinged with sadness. Harry wasn't sure if it was an act or not. He refused to respond as he instead turned back to the window. Looking at the blackness, Harry contemplated what he had been told.
The ritual had to be done in the new moon by six people; two of which must have a strong emotional connection to him. They would extract the soul and destroy it. And break its bonds to Harry's magic. Harry would die as well as the soul was so intertwined with his own. They couldn't 'risk' not killing him after Voldemort because Harry may get possessed and they didn't want to fight him. Nor could they risk Voldemort being able to draw on Harry's magic. After Voldemort, Dumbledore may not have enough power to overcome Harry's raw power. They were sorry but it was the only way. The new moon was on his sixteenth birthday. They locked him up so he couldn't run. He shouldn't fight them because he was saving everyone else. Unlike how he failed to save everyone during the battle at Hogwarts.
Their words blurred at they pounded through his mind. They took his freedom, his magic and now his life. All thought was abruptly stopped at he was hit with a stunner and the world turned dark. Vaguely, harry wondered if dying would be this peaceful. Mentally snorting, he cursed his luck that ensured they would make it painful.
Voices echoed quietly around Harry as he woke up. Keeping his eyes closed, he concluded that he was shackled to the ground and wearing a robe. He kept still and listened intently for more information.
"It's almost time, Albus" came McGonagall's voice, it was reluctant. Harry hid a sad smile at the betrayal of his favourite professor. The one person who was fair in Hogwarts had also turned her back on him. Harry almost sighed as he once again pounded it into his head that the world was selfish and would sacrifice him to save themselves. Common sense, really.
"There is no other way, is there Headmaster?" came Hermione's nervous voice, but there was excitement underlining it. That made Harry cringe. Even at the cost of his life she craved knowledge.
A snort made Harry realise that Ron was there as well. They were probably his emotional anchors, Harry thought. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hermione and Ron. That made four. There were still two more people there plotting his death. Four were needed for the actually spell, so they would be proficient at magic.
"He's awake," came the soft voice that stopped Harry's heart for just a moment before he hardened it.
It was than Harry rasped out, "Well, you can be sure that I will be very interested in what Sirius and my parents think of you for doing this, Lupin."
Unseen, Remus flinched at the words. He knew he was betraying not only Harry but his late friends. But this was to save the whole world. He had no choice. He kept telling himself that Harry was just angry right now but he understood. But the back of his mind traitorously whispered that he was only a sixteen year old orphan boy that he had failed to take care of. The son of his best friends; the same people who stood by him even when they knew his dark secret. Remus looked away, hair greying prematurely and lines carved into his face.
"Well," came Snape's voice with a sneer, "let's get this over with. I have a potion on status." Harry gave a bark of laughter at that. He pushed himself up, body shaking from the effort.
"Bet your loving this, Snape," Harry gasped out as he threw a glare at the greasy haired man. Snape sneered back, "but at least you never pretended to care. Thank you for that and that alone."
At that, Hermione, McGonagall, Ron and Remus flinched. They had to look away. Hermione looked at the weak figure kneeling in the middle of the six-sided star. Clearing her throat, she tried to get the words to talk to her first friend in the Wizarding World. Despite everything, he was her friend but he just had to understand!
"Harry," Hermione finally said in her 'lecture' voice, "you have to understand. This is the only way. Headmaster Dumbledore has explained it to us, and I'm sure he has to you. Otherwise we would never do this. But, Harry, this is to save our families and the whole of the world!"
Emerald eyes turned to stare at the girl. Stare into her soul and seemingly judge her "No, that is just an excuse. This is the easiest way out for all of you. I know the world would fear my power if I defeated old Voldy. If you were in my place I would fight to keep you alive. So, no Granger, I refuse to understand I refuse to lie down and die just because I have the least to lose. And for the record, books and elders aren't always right." He finished with a hint of spiteful zeal, and the group stood in silence at the truth of his words. This was the easiest way out.
A snort broke the silence, as Ron addressed his friend, "Mate, it may be the easy way out but at least it will work. I wouldn't trust you to save the world. Sure, you're good at DADA but to take down You-Know-Who? No way. Though, I don't see why you are complaining; you'll go down in history as a hero."
Harry shook his head, "Then I hope you will be happy to go down in history as the man who betrayed his best friend and killed him for fame and glory. I had hoped our friendship meant more than this, Weasley. But I guess not."
Dumbledore clapped his hands. Everyone but Harry turned to look at him. "It is time. In your places. Remus, next to me. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to the West and East points. Minerva and Severus, the other two, if you please."
There was silence as people shuffled around. Harry took that opportunity to look at his surroundings. He was in a stone room that had no ceiling, allowing for the moonlight to illuminate the area. Judging by the stonewalls and the condensed magic in the air Harry concluded that he was still in Hogwarts – that and the Hogwarts coat of arms that hung by the entrance to the room. Harry frowned as he realised that he had never found this room or even heard of it; he doubted the Marauders knew of it either.
Finally they stopped and stood facing Harry, drawing him out of his musings. Harry stared at the figures of Dumbledore and Remus. From the corners of his eyes he could see his former best friends. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Breathing out, he calmed himself as he mentally prepared for what must be done to save himself.
He wasn't sure it would work, but it was the best he could come up with considering the limited information and time.
His magic burned under his skin, only slightly muffled by the cuffs. No one had ever known exactly how much power he had, causing Harry to mentally grin. It uncoiled and he wrapped his being in it, feeling it simmering lightly beneath the surface.
And then the chanting started.
He could make out the four adults' voices. It wasn't Latin and sounded like Gaelic, but it certainly didn't sound pleasant. Feeling as prepared as possible until he had to act, Harry opened his eyes. Quietly he watched them as the ritual continued. The lines and runes drawn into the floor with chalk brightened with a green light. A killing curse green. Power travelled along the lines, encasing Harry and building up for its attack. The chanting rose to a fever pitch.
And like a too tightly strung rubber band, the magic snapped.
Harry felt it a mere moment before the he saw it happen. But that moment was enough for Harry to overpower the handcuffs causing them to shatter and fall to the ground. As the power rushed at him, Harry threw up his hands, trying to stop it with his own magic. The green light burnt through him with an ice cold sensation that was excruciating. Screaming, Harry forced his magic out, trying desperately to combat the foreign magic and its intent.
But it was no use. The runes magnified the power of the six and aimed at Harry, its overall power increased with the moon's position and stage. Harry panicked as he felt the ritual's magic try to separate his soul from his magic and body.
The bonds created between the three parts when he was conceived were deteriorating.
Harry's throat was burning from his screams that sounded inhuman to even his own ears. But the pain! It was ripping his magic apart and his soul was breaking. His body and mind weren't far behind.
He finally felt the pain increase rapidly from his scar before the intense burning reached new heights, searing his skin, mind, body and soul. Finally feeling the release of Voldemort's soul, Harry cut loose with all of his power, forcing every drop he had into rebounding the magic from the ritual.
The six surrounding him remained blissfully unaware of this as they watched Harry struggle. Then, as the horcrux dissolved in screams, the magic rushed and encased the boy. The last part of the ritual was proceeding: ripping apart what was left of Harry's soul and magic and thus ensuring that he couldn't be possessed by Voldemort.
They were not expecting the power to implode and rush at them along the lines of the ritual.
Harry panted as he knelt in his place, looking at the floor as he tried to stay awake. Each breath felt like a chore and his world was wavering dangerously. Gritting his teeth, Harry looked up and steadied himself forcefully. All six figures were knocked out in the places that they had been standing. Good.
For a moment Harry caught his breathe and stared at the figures. Part of his heart shattered yet again and he worried over their condition but the Slytherin part screamed at him to run. Run far away and as fast as possible because when they woke up they would be after him. They would try again to kill him using the ritual and the words 'for the Greater Good.'
He needed to leave and he needed to do it now!
Harry panted as he stumbled through Hogwarts.
He could barely breathe and the world was a strange mixture of blurs and spinning. Harry grasped at the warm stone walls as he forced his body onwards. He bit his lip to stop a cry of pain as his body jolted, nerves misfiring pain all over his body.
If anyone found him now he would be killed on sight.
Gritting his teeth Harry pushed forward again, his mind racing. Where could he go that he would be safe? The whole wizarding world knew that he carried a piece of old Voldie's soul and that he must die to save them. So the whole magical world was out. Wonderful. The muggle world would only work for a short time. Harry was no fool. They would release his face and name everywhere like they did to Sirius and track him though the police on false charges. Technology would prove it very difficult to stay hidden in the muggle world and he wouldn't be allowed to use magic. The very thought made Harry's heart clench in fear; there was nowhere he could hide and no one he could turn to.
Magic then strummed through the air causing Harry to jump and look around nervously. The magic was a gentle caress and a soothing touch. Almost like a mother... Harry shook his head. He had always been more sensitive to magic and its sentient nature. Eyes narrowed and back to the grey wall, Harry rasped out; "Who's there and what do you want?"
The magic in the air chimed in laughter as an unseen breeze ruffled his hair. Magic then streamed in from all around, cocooning Harry in its safety. The silent promise of refuge echoed through Harry as he sagged in relief. The castle would never lie; it did not possess that human error. The subtle sensation of magic against him pushed Harry forward. Strangely enough, he was guided towards the Great Hall. Harry stumbled along; anxious that someone would appear in his way. He was in no condition to fight anyone.
Gasping, Harry clutched his stomach as he tried to catch his breathe. Then, there was a pulse of magic just ahead. Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself to walk onward, emerald eyes hardening as he promised himself that he would not be caught. Reaching the door, he clasped the handle. Harry winced when he felt the foreign magic rush over him. It tingled and seemed almost curious as it searched him and… copied him? Cutting off any further thought the door opened and Harry fell forward with no warning.
Harry clenched his eyes and prepared for a hard landing.
Instead, all he was met with was a warm blanket of magic before his back fell onto something soft. Opening his eyes, Harry tried to sit up; he was in no condition to fight but he would not go down easily. 'But,' his mind whispered, 'that magic won't hurt you. You felt it. It was too caring. The only harm it would do you would be for your own good.' His instincts told him that but the world had taught him otherwise.
"Young master will stay in bed or Mixie will tie him down! Young master is in no condition to be running around. The Ladies demand that you rest and heal. The Ladies have given you safety, young master." Scolded the high pitched voice from beside Harry.
Harry's eyebrows rose as he turned his head to see a very miffed house elf, that was currently making an effort in trying to look very threatening. Raising his hands up in the universal gesture of 'I surrender' Harry relaxed back into bed before talking. "Um, Mixie? Can I please just ask something before I sleep?" Harry asked with a small smile. Mixie huffed as she raised her finger at him, frowning.
"Very well, young master, but only while Mixie checks young master and makes him well again," Mixie told him with a stern glare as magic slowly washed over Harry, carefully scanning his body, mind and magic. Harry frowned at the sensation.
"Where are we? Why are you helping me? Who are 'The Ladies'?" Harry blurted out, trying to keep his mind off the weird sensations running through his body.
"You are in Hogwarts, young master. The Ladies told me to help you and make sure you get better and cared for. That the headmaster has done bad things and he must not be allowed to continue. All house elves are bonded to Hogwarts and not the headmaster. The Ladies are the mind, heart and magic of Hogwarts castle," Mixie said but then stopped abruptly. She looked at Harry with teary eyes before sending out a pulse of magic.
Then next moment four figures appeared in the room. Harry sat up abruptly and cursed himself for letting his guard down. He started to make a break for it when he heard Mixie cry out, "Mixie is sorry Ladies and Sirs. Mixie tried but it was too late. Mixie is sorry! But young master's soul and magic's bonds are breaking! He will die! Mixie is sorry but Mixie did try!"
That shocked Harry as he sat back down. He tentatively felt his magic core and winced as he felt the weakening bonds. It struck him like a bolt of lightning. If what Mixie was saying was true than he was dying.
Apparently he didn't have enough magic to stop the ritual. Not completely. Now he would die a slower, more painful and drawn out death.
"It's okay, Mixie. You did a splendid job of healing his injuries and trying to help. We will take it from here. Why don't your bring us some tea in half an hour? We will call you back later when everything has been decided." The plump blond woman told the elf gently.
With teary eyes, Mixie nodded, "Yes Lady. Thank you Lady!" before she popped out of the room, leaving Harry alone with the four strangers.
Harry was sitting in shock when Mixie popped back in with tea for the five of them. Leaving the tray that held not only four different tea pots but three plates of different confectioneries, Mixie curtsied and popped away again. Harry was still in the bed, propped up against the headboard with pillows supporting him. The four were seated in comfortable chairs around the bed, the two women on one side and the two men on the other.
"Okay," Harry said as his brain caught up with what had just happened, "Let me get this straight. The four founders, when they got old, performed soul magic to bind their power, hearts and souls to the school. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff won a bet and tied themselves to the castle. Gryffindor and Slytherin tied themselves to the wards. Which is why the Basilisk only ever killed one person when released because you were protecting the students. And why the stairs kept away from the third floor in first year. And the wards fought off the dementors enough that Dumbledore had to weaken them in the third year so he could get his grand ending."
The four nodded and smiled. They helped themselves to some tea, waiting for Harry to continue. "And you," Harry continued, gesturing at them, "watch over the school and its students. You saw what Dumbledore was doing to me and disagreed. You disrupted the magic of the ritual enough to give me a fighting chance, and then brought me to these rooms where I would be safe and could heal. Now, you want to perform another soul magic ritual to strengthen, if not repair, the breaking bonds."
"Yep." Came the muffled reply from the golden haired Godric Gryffindor as he happily ate a gingersnap.
"Why? Why help me?" Came Harry's immediate reply.
"Because," Ravenclaw said with a smooth voice as she put down her teacup and met Harry's emerald gaze, "I've seen that the war Voldemort starts creates a chain of wars that eventually leads to the destruction of the magical world. Voldemort kills Dumbledore and then goads all magical creatures into an all out war. The muggles find out and the world is at war with itself. Plus, you are one of our students that we swore to protect."
Harry stared at the dark-haired witch with disbelieving eyes. "And," came Slytherin's voice causing Harry to stare at him, "you are my and Godric's last Heir. Which means that you are the last Heir of Hogwarts, so to speak, because Rowena and Helga's lines have both died out some two hundred years ago."
Silence reigned with his statement as Harry directed his gaze to the beddings. His hands traced the linear pattern on the soft, blue wool. Sighing, Harry nodded slowly before whispering, "Thank you."
"It is our pleasure, child," Helga Hufflepuff said in a soft voice, "Now get some sleep. We can discuss everything else when you awake."
Harry only then allowed the exhaustion that he had been fighting to take over. His eyes slowly closed as he sank into the soft mattress, the four's murmurs lulling him to sleep.
As soon as the black-haired teen's breathing evened out, the four nodded. Rowena banished the chairs as Godric and Salazar summoned items needed. Helga cleared out the room. Quickly and efficiently they drew up the ritual around the bed.
That morning Harry woke up feeling better than ever.
But his dreams were strange. He dreamt about the four founders and their time at Hogwarts. Frowning, Harry tried to recall details but failed. He vaguely remembered other parts that showed Hogwarts over its thousand year history; it was like something that was on the tip of his tongue but he was rendered unable to find the words to say. Sighing, Harry gripped his hair in frustration before looking around at the room he was too tired to examine the previous night.
The room was plain and simple. The bed was in the centre and carved from a deep brown wood. It had a headboard and a side board where his glasses rested. Surprised, Harry reached to touch his face to feel that he was seeing with perfect vision without the glasses. Frowning, Harry glanced around the room. There was a four seater table made of the same deep brown wood on one side of the room, and on the other was a matching desk and chair. The windows were covered by thick black velvet curtains, blocking out the sunlight that Harry could make out from around the edges. And there were two doors apart from the one he entered through that he hadn't noticed the night before in his exhaustion.
"Mixie?" Harry called out as questions raced around his mind. He wanted answers. Something had changed and he was tired of being lied to.
One month later
"Shakti." Harry murmured, fingers tracing the lines of information on the old pages of the book. A school for all races and one where survival was not guaranteed.
It was located in another dimension – a place not even Dumbledore, in all his 'wisdom', would think of searching. Harry bit his lower lip as he regarded the information. 'Its location is perfect,' he pondered, 'but I might not live to graduate.' Harry paused before bitterly adding, 'Not that I'm going to live that long anyways.'
In the last month Harry had read all of the books in the Founder's personal Library and practiced the magic he had gained knowledge of.
That was the difficult part.
He had gained all of the knowledge, and yet he did not possess the knowledge. It was all there in his mind, but it had no order nor did he have access to the sheer amount of it. He had to review and practice the magic. This had forced him to practice Occlumency under the tutelage of Salazar Slytherin. The mind art helped organise his mind, also meaning that finally Harry could review and practice most of the magical information in his brain.
During this time of relaxation, Rowena had recommended he go to another school.
At first Harry was shocked. He couldn't leave Hogwarts; this was his school and home. But then the logical side of his brain spoke up and he realised that he needed to get away from Dumbledore and train to beat Voldemort. So far, he had not reviewed even a fraction of the information he had obtained from the four.
Therefore, he reluctantly agreed with Rowena and had begun to search for alternative schooling.
It was Helga who gave him the book containing the information on Shakti. She said that it was perfect for his needs and that, using a favour the one of the Headmistress' owed the four, she could organise for him to attend an entrance test for the elite school.
And thus he penned:
To the Headmaster/Headmistress of Shakti
I request, as the keeper of the Four Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to take the placement tests. I understand that I am late in applying and that this is highly unusual, but Shakti is the only school that I will be able to attend.
Harry had carefully planned his letter to the Head of Shakti, closely following the Four's instructions. The new name?
'Salus for Salvation. Moriens for my deathbed. My name will remind me why I am there, why I am doing all of this,' Harry thought with vindication. He then sealed the letter and sent it off using the spell provided by Helga. 'Because, I don't have the luxury of time.'
As soon as that was done, Harry knew that he had to organise his finances. Taking care to hide his features, Harry flooed directly into the Bank and walked to a counter.
"Greetings, Goldlocke, son of Warhammer. I need to see Bloodknife about my accounts," Harry stated in a low voice. The Goblin eyed him for a moment before nodding towards the hallway.
Harry knocked on the door of the goblin he had contacted a few days before regarding his accounts. Hearing a shouted "enter", Harry did just that.
He grinned at the Goblin and took a seat in front of the desk. The green magical creature finished off the page of paperwork and greeted his client.
"Milord, what do I owe this pleasure?" Bloodknife asked, giving Harry his full attention.
"I need to organise my accounts as I intend to... disappear for an indefinite period of time. But the catch is, I need access to my funds." Harry explained, hands folded on his lap and back straight. His hood though, was pushed back. If he couldn't trust his banker then who could he trust?
Bloodknife frowned as he nodded, "That will be easy. You are already emancipated and your accounts are private. You have accounts in both worlds. I can give you a debit card that works in both, for the fee of 300 galleons payment and then a service fee of 50 galleons per month thereafter."
Harry nodded. "Please, but I need those funds to be available from anywhere." Harry paused, "Is the room absolutely secure?"
Bloodknife raised an eyebrow and nodded, waiting for Harry to continue. "I plan to attend a school in another dimension." Harry said bluntly. "I need to be able to use my funds there."
Bloodknife dropped his pen as he stared at the wizard. He was not expecting that. There were a handful of schools his client could be attending and a part of him was scared to ask.
Bloodknife then winced at the thought of the paperwork he had to do to get a multidimensional card. It was a lengthy procedure as they would have to use the other banks in the other dimensions as branches to their bank.
Leaving the bank, Harry walked in the shadows to enter Knockturn Alley. Alert, he slinked along, a destination in mind as he approached a nameless store. Pushing the grimy door open, a broken bell gave a dull 'ding!' as he entered.
He ignored the other customers and the books that lined the walls; walking straight up to the counter, Harry handed the owner a piece of paper.
The old man, whose hair was grey and teeth a rotten yellow, read the note with narrowed eyes before nodding. He left the room only to return barely a moment later with a vial in hand. Harry took the vial and inspected it. The potion was well made and he could find no fault in it save that it was coloured a touch too dark. But that was no problem, as it only meant that the potion had been left on the fire for one minute longer than it should have, having a side effect of being a tad stronger than it would otherwise be but not dangerously so. Harry handed the owner a bag of galleons and waited as the man counted that all 500 coins were there.
Nodding, Harry left the store and made his way back to the bank. There, he flooed to his personal chambers back in Hogwarts.
Harry sighed as he could finally relax. He dropped the heavy cloak onto a chair and inspected the vial as he sat on his bed. The potion he had purchased to the exorbitant price was a highly illegal potion that Sirius had told him about. It was how Sirius moved about in the Wizarding World despite being a wanted man.
The Fallis Potionta changed the person's appearance to what they would like. It was mainly used by criminals who were on the run. The other reason it was illegal was that it was a 'Black Potion', meaning that it changed a person's magical powers. In this potion's case, it gave them the ability to shift from their original appearance and the alter-ego.
It used Wild Magics, hence it was banned by the Ministry. All wizards used 'Natural' magic. This magic was divided into different components, such as light, dark, black, green, red ect... Wild magic on the other hand was that of the planets and could not be controlled. Very few wizards were born with the ability to tap into this magic; and for them to be a Potions Master was extremely rare.
Harry looked at the vial before uncorking it. Sighing, he smiled slightly as he swallowed it in one go. For a few moments nothing happened, the potion only left a horrid taste in his mouth.
And then Harry screamed in pain as his magic jerked and his muscles pulled. His skin felt like it was on fire, and the potion was burning a path through his body.
Harry accepted the blissful darkness as he collapsed out cold.
There was no pain there.
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AN: What should Harry look like? I'm changing his hair colour and keeping his eyes. I love green eyes. Any suggestions?
*Lord of the Rings: The Twin Towers - Legolas.
*Shakti - "power" in sanskrit.
*Latin from a latin-english dictionary.