Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used within this story, they all belong to J.K. Rowling. I own none of the places referenced within this story, they belong to their respective owners or J.K. Rowling.
Note: This is set after the fourth book, with a much more pro-active Harry Potter, with the duel in the graveyard acting like it should have done in canon; as a kick up the ass to get him moving faster down the path of greatness. This is heavily influenced by the story Runic Animagus, but is by no means a copy of the story.
Best read in 1/2 view.
The Day the World Went Away
Harry dropped the ministry letter back down onto the Dursley's kitchen table with a small nod. They were coming to break his wand and take him away for something he'd done in self-defence. His eyes made their way over to the shuddering and shivering Dudley, his tiny aunt trying her best to warm the portly boy with her fussing alone. Briefly, their eyes locked and Harry saw something he'd never seen before in those eyes; gratitude. His cousin stopped shaking a little bit,
"T-thank y-you, H-h-harry…" he managed to stutter out, much to the horror of his mother and father. Petunia threw her arms around Dudley's head, wailing something about how Harry was obviously controlling Dudley with a spell of some kind. Vernon took it less peacefully. Turning an interesting shade of red (with a large amount of purple in for good measure), Harry's uncle took a few steps forwards in anger,
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON YOU LITTLE FREAK?" he demanded, trying to appear even larger than he already was. Harry took one look at his obese uncle's pathetic attempt to appear intimidating and chuckled darkly,
"I saved your son from a fate worse than death and you blame me for his gratitude?" he chuckled again, causing Petunia to glare hatefully at him and Vernon to continue to grow steadily redder. Harry shook his head a little, still with a small grin, "You're welcome Dudley. I-"
Harry was cut off suddenly when his uncle's fist collided with the side of his face, knocking him to the kitchen floor. Vernon lunged at his nephew, roaring something that held no meaning in any conceivable language. Harry, using his Seeker's reflexes, rolled out of the way to allow his bumbling whale of an uncle to crash onto the floor due to his own momentum. Up like a shot, Harry's wand flew to his hand from his pocket and the thin boy pointed it dangerously at his uncle's head,
"If you come at me like that again then I will make you regret it." He vowed darkly, touching his free hand to the bleeding cut his uncle's wedding ring had caused. Petunia sneered in a way that very much reminded Harry of his least favourite potions professor,
"That's an empty threat and you know it you little freak! You'll be kicked out of that school if you do it!" she adopted a superior expression as her husband pulled himself to his feet with a nasty look on his face, "I think he needs to be taught some manners Vernon."
The red-faced man nodded, looking especially gleeful,
"Right you are pet. I think we've been too good to him! He needs to learn to respect his betters!" with his last roar, he lunged at Harry once again. Harry scowled and instinctively flicked his wand, banishing his incredibly heavy uncle into the kitchen units. Of course, a man of Vernon's weight, travelling at speed, caused the cheap kitchen units to splinter inwards as he smashed into them. Petunia screamed and ran to her husband, who was deathly still in the wooden wreckage. Dudley turned to his cousin fearfully,
"P-please… d-don't kill them…" he managed to stutter out against the after-effects of the dementors and his fear of Harry. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the terrified look in his cousin's eyes. A lump formed in his throat as he recognised the look in those eyes. It had been the same look he'd seen in his own eyes, reflected in the eyes of Voldemort as they duelled in the graveyard. His wand-arm fell limply to his side and his mouth fell open, his eyes still wide in horror. Glancing at his aunt, he saw the same look of complete and utter terror and he began to back away, as if recoiling from the look,
"I-I…" he stopped himself almost immediately as his mind came to a conclusion as to why the look bothered him so much.
They're afraid of me. I'm no better than Voldemort.
The conclusion hit Harry like a ton of bricks, making him weak at the knees as he continued to back away from his relatively. But the facts, as he saw them, were undeniable. He'd threatened his uncle Vernon with one of the Unforgivable Curses, albeit indirectly, and then used magic to attack him when he struck out in anger. He turned and ran from the kitchen, hurrying up the stairs and into his room. Slamming the door solidly, Harry closed his eyes and he slumped against the door.
For defending his cousin the ministry was going to punish him by taking away his wand and then kicking him out of the wizarding world, the only place where he truly felt he belonged. In his anger at the ministry's actions he'd taunted his uncle, knowing the man's temper, and struck him a much harsher blow that he'd been given. It had felt good at the time and that was what worried him the most. If it felt good to use a simple banishing charm on his uncle, then imagine what it would feel like if he had accidentally using something else? Something worse?
It caused him to shudder when he realised that the sense of righteousness would have still been there, even if he'd used the Unforgivables. So what if they had beaten and starved him since he'd arrived at their home as a baby? He was a better person than them and he had to show it, not sink to their level and use what advantages he had against them. After a few seconds he pulled himself back up from the door and made his way over to his school trunk, pulling his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map out without a moment's thought. Moving over to Hedwig's cage, he sighed a little as he helped the snowy owl out of her cage and opened the window. His owl gave him a confused tilt of the head. He smiled a little, glad that he owl was still unafraid and trusting of him. Stroking her feathers, he sighed,
"I need you to fly away from here girl. Find Sirius and stay with him for a while. I'm… well I'm going to have be doing some running." He explained to his owl. Hedwig tilted her head a little more and gave a soft 'hoot'. Harry smiled and kissed the top of her head, "I'm sorry girl."
He flung his arm outwards towards the window and Hedwig flew off into the night from his outstretched hand. Watching her go, Harry sighed before reaching down and picking up his trusty Firebolt. He threw his Invisibility Cloak over himself, tucked the Map into his pocket and walked out of his room silently. As he looked into the kitchen he was relieved to see a very dazed looking Vernon being fussed over by Petunia and Dudley. He nodded slightly, as if saying goodbye, before he slipped out the front door.
Several 'Pop's echoed across the empty street and Harry spun round, crouched low under his Cloak with his wand at the ready. A group of people wearing royal blue robes had appeared across the street from Number Four. A figure at the front stopped the others and Harry had to blink a few times to realise that the toad-like creature was actually a witch. She coughed a little, the little noise grating at Harry's nerves even across the street,
"We have been charged with capturing the Potter-child. As team leader and Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, I hereby authorise any force necessary is to be used in apprehending the boy. This is due to the likelihood that he was the one to murder the Diggory boy." She rattled off in an impossibly sugary voice which set his teeth on edge. One of the others, an Auror if he remembered the robes of the wizarding police correctly, took a step forwards,
"Madam Umbridge, the boy has only done some underage magic, is a squad of battle-ready Aurors really needed? The spell was not even offensive." The male Auror argued. The toad-woman, Umbridge, stopped her foot,
"I will not have you questioning my judgement Auror Shacklebolt! Besides, the boy has since preformed a powerful banishing charm in the presence of yet more muggles!" she cried out, seemingly forgetting her own laws about secrecy. Harry crouched there, mulling this new information over in his mind. He knew that the magic he performed with his wand could be traced by the ministry but the Umbridge woman was talking about him as if he was a major suspect in the death of Cedric. Before he could think on it anymore, he heard an owl call from above. He quickly looked up and was relieved to find that it was not Hedwig but appeared to be a school owl. A school owl meant that the Headmaster was trying to contact him. But before the owl could swoop down with its message, a sickly green flash of light flew from the tip of Umbridge's wand and struck the creature dead instantly. Harry's eyes widened as he watched the limp form of the bird fall to the ground. The male Auror, Shacklebolt, put a hand on Umbridge's arm,
"What the hell do you think you're doing Dolores?" he demanded. Umbridge pulled her arm away from Shacklebolt with a sneer,
"I'm stopping that senile old man doing what he always does; meddling in ministry affairs! Now you will stand down or I will have you fired so fast your wand will spin!" she declared loudly, once again seemingly flouting the Statute of Secrecy she was apparently here to enforce. Shacklebolt took a few steps back but wasn't finished,
"You've performed the worst of the Unforgivable Curses Dolores!" he snapped back, apparently becoming just as agitated by the woman as Harry himself was. Umbridge scoffed, an unpleasant sound that carried all the way to Harry,
"It is only illegal to perform the curse on another human being Shacklebolt." She seemed to dismissive him with a wave of her hand, "Now get to capturing the boy! I don't care how much he has to hurt before he comes in but we will bring him in!"
As the Aurors reluctantly marched into the Dursley's home, Harry quickly ran round the side of one of the neighbouring houses before mounting his broom and flying off at top speed, leaving Number Four Privet Drive behind as he zoomed off into the night as a fugitive.
His wand poked the man in the back of the head and the dark-minded wizard stiffened immediately. Harry pulled the man's wand from its resting place in the hidden back pocket of the man's flowing black robes. He replaced his wand with the one he'd just liberated at the back of the man's head. The man chuckled nervously,
"Ah, you m-must be worried about t-tracking s-spells if you wish to use my w-wand…" he mused, trying to act calm and collected when he was obviously not. Harry smiled a little at the man's tactic and pushed the man further into the dark recesses of the shop,
"And if I am?" he asked, having more luck at hiding his nerves than the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper chuckled lightly, seemingly gaining control of his nerves,
"Then I am the man to see about that…" he drawled silkily. Harry sighed in relief,
"Good, I was worried I was holding the wrong man at wand-point." He quipped, his nerves forcing him to try the vein attempt at humour. The shopkeeper chuckled obligingly,
"And who may I ask is looking for the removal of their tracking charms?" he asked, trying to move onto his charm. Harry shuddered at the man's attempt at charm but pulled himself up to his full height and spun the man round, pushing his wand into his hands with a smirk,
"Lord Potter." He replied with a confidence that he was afraid was all show. The shopkeeper smiled in such a way that suddenly made Harry feel very unclean,
"Ah, Milord Potter… Mr Borgin, at your service." He breathed, his voice obviously meant to flatter but simply causing Harry to shiver at the oily tone. Shaking his head, he smiled a little,
"Mr Borgin, I have recently come into a lot of money… it seems that the ministry's willingness to attempt to try me as an adult is enough for the Goblins to consider me as such." He waved a hand casually at the dusty shop, "And they happened to recommend your establishment for a removal of my wand's tracking charms. Along with a book… a book that once belonged to someone in my family."
Borgin suddenly looked a bit sheepish,
"Well you have to understand Lord Potter… artefacts relating to your survival as a baby are very valuable." He whispered, apparently forgetting that he was the one with the untraceable wand as he gaze into Harry's burning green eyes. The new Lord Potter sighed a little and nodded,
"I was told that you would be loyal enough to me…" he fixed Borgin with another withering look, "For the right amount of gold."
Borgin licked his lips greedily,
"You are indeed beginning to speak my language Lord Potter… you are looking to have the tracking charm removed correct?" he asked, a strange smile in place now that money had been mentioned. Harry's eyes narrowed,
"And the book, Borgin." He relaxed a little, "I will also pay you the total of one thousand galleons if you would so kind as to… assist me with a ritual from the book."
Borgin chuckled dryly and gestured for Harry to follow him deeper into the dark shop,
"You seem to understand my language well Lord Potter… I wonder how you have learnt in such a short period of time?" he asked with a smirk. Harry returned the smirk, despite his inner disgust at the man,
"Goblins will do anything for coin." He rattled off the pure-blood slander as if it tasted foul as it rolled off of his tongue. Borgin chuckled a little, having noticed the distain that Harry held for pure-blood opinion of the Goblins,
"So it has been said…" he murmmered before stopping in front of a plain-looking box, long enough to house even a long, 17 inch, wand. Harry ran his fingertips across the polished surface of the box lid with a frown,
"This procedure won't affect my wand's performance will it?" he asked quietly, somehow aware of the magic within the box itself. It felt strangely like it was vibrating quickly, almost like humming, but when he touched it he knew that it was still. Shaking his head, Harry handed his wand to Borgin, handle first. The shopkeeper bowed his head a little at the sign of silent trust and opened the box to reveal a very average looking interior of red felt. Gently, the oily man placed the wand in the felt before closing the lid. He turned to Harry,
"It will work just as it always has Lord Potter… but the box won't open again until I have my fee." He explained carefully. Harry nodded and gestured for the man to continue, "It is a mere 200 galleons, Milord…"
Harry reached into his black robe's inner pocket and withdrew a seemingly very small money pouch. Printed on the side was: 200G. Borgin nodded, accepting that the Gringotts bag would not lie about the amount of money contained within. With one hand he put the pouch in an inner pocket while he opened the box with the other. Harry picked up his wand and examined it carefully before taking note of the tiny symbol now seemingly etched into the wood closest to the grip. He nodded a little when he realised that it was the Potter coat of arms.
There are some advantages with being the head of an Ancient and Noble House…
Snapping back to attention, he carefully concealed his wand within the large, flowing, robes the Goblins had given him by way of a disguise. He nodded,
"A fine job Borgin." He noted before fixing the man with another intense stare, relying on his unnaturally bright green eyes to do the intimidation as they had before. Borgin seemed to shrink back a little but his smile never faltered,
"Ah, I was hoping you would forget about the book…" he noted before disappearing round a stack of seemingly ancient tomes. Harry waited patiently; confident that Borgin would not run as the only exits (the front door and the fireplace) were behind him. Showing his loyalty to potential coin, Borgin reappeared a moment later with a think tome, bound in what appeared to be black leather. As the shopkeeper set the book down, Harry realised that the cover was bound in dragon hide and not leather, as he'd first thought. Borgin opened the book reverently, "Your grandmother was a witch of great strength… this truly is a powerful book."
"Yes…" Harry agreed easily, his fingertips running over the smooth pages with an almost nostalgic feeling. He looked at Borgin, "500 for the book and a further 1000 for the ritual."
Borgin thought about it for a moment,
"700 for the book." He offered, still in serious thought. Harry frowned,
"600 is the highest I will go." He countered firmly. Borgin looked into Harry's burning eyes for a few seconds before holding out a hand,
"I agree." He said simply. Harry gripped his forearm,
"So mote be it." He said firmly, invoking the Shopkeeper Oath. Borgin smiled at the young man's knowledge,
"So mote be it." He intoned dutifully. Harry let go of Borgin's arm, satisfied. Borgin gestured to a nearby wooden chair, with black chains attached to the arms. Harry frowned a little but did as he was asked, sitting in the chair and letting the chains come to life and bind him to the wooden chair. Borgin took out his wand and Vanished Harry's heavy black robe to the table beside him, leaving the teenager in a pair of dirty blue jeans and a faded red t-shirt, both several sizes too big for him. With a savage flick of his wrist, Harry's t-shirt disappeared to reveal the almost painfully thin body beneath it. Borgin whistled a little as he saw the scars across his chest as well as the scars on each of his forearms, one from a basilisk fang and the other a ceremonial dagger,
"You've seen a lot of action Milord…" he muttered, causing the teenager to frown. Harry didn't especially like it when people commented on the scars that Dudley's gang had given him over the years. Borgin shrugged a little and picked up a paint brush and a small bowl. With expert care, he took a delicate looking vial of black liquid and poured it slowly into the bowl. He noticed Harry watching carefully, "Basilisk venom Milord. But then again… I'm sure you're familiar with it."
Harry chuckled a little, despite his nervousness,
"You could say that." He agreed, thinking back to his second year and the agony of the basilisk venom rushing through his veins. It had been worse than Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse when in the graveyard. Borgin nodded,
"Good. Then you'll understand that this will hurt." He muttered, coating the resistant hairs of the brush with the venom. Once he was certain that none of venom would drop off of the brush, he stood still, the brush poised at the centre of Harry's chest. Harry gritted his teeth and nodded,
"Do it." He ordered forcefully. Borgin nodded once in understanding before touching the brush to Harry's skin to begin. Harry tried to arch his back to express the pain but the magically binding chains forced his body to stay in the same position, allowing only his head freedom of movement. He thrashed his head from side to side as the agony reached through his entire body from the centre of his chest. It spread like liquid fire through his veins, burning his insides from his very core to his fingertips. Gritting his teeth to keep from screaming out loud in pain, Harry tasted blood and realised that he'd bitten his own lip and that he was now bleeding quite readily from the self-inflicted wound. Strangely, even through the magnificent pain, Harry felt the hairs of the brush moving across his sensitive skin. Lights flashed in front of his eyes whenever he closed them, causing him to open them immediately to avoid blinding himself with pain-induced patches of light in the field of his vision.
Although the pain had started suddenly, it did not go away just as suddenly. Harry felt the hairs of the brush leave his skin and hoped against all that he knew of the ritual that it would mean the end of the pain but it was in vain. The pain continued, despite his continuous mental pleas for it to stop. Mental pleas because he refused to show weakness to the dark shopkeeper. Slowly, the few minutes stretching out into an eternity due to the agony, the pain began to lessen until it was nothing more than a dull throbbing that flared up slightly with each beat of his heart. The chains released him and fell limp again, allowing Harry to slump down in the chair. Borgin approached cautiously,
"Lord Potter?" he enquired softly. Harry raised his head, slowly, as he was incredibly groggy in the absence of the mind-numbing pain from before. He smiled absently at Borgin,
"Seems that it worked… either that or the afterlife is just like the first one…" he slurred, his attempt at humour seeming very out of place considering what had just happened. Borgin merely chuckled,
"It appears to have worked Milord. You have been deemed to have enough Potter blood in your veins to be accepted by the key rune of your family's chain." He observed, pointing at his handiwork on the teen's chest. Harry looked down at his chest and smiled a little more. A plain, unblemished, black circle was now seemingly etched into his skin at exactly the centre of his chest. Harry threw his head back and laughed; the noise strange and harsh coming from his parched throat. Borgin took a cautious step back, afraid the pain from the procedure had loosened Harry's perception of reality a little. Harry's head slumped forwards again and he brought a finger up, adorned with his House Ring, to idly trace the black line of the circle. He looked up at Borgin, serious once again,
"Another 2000 for the rune chain of Mind and Body." He offered the man, gesturing to a large coin pouch protruding from the pocket of the cloak he'd entered with. Borgin looked at the money pouch for a few seconds, noting that it had 10,000G written on the side of it in bold, black, lettering. He licked his lips slightly,
"How about we go for the rest as well Milord?"
Harry Potter x Daphne Greengrass
Harry Potter x Susan Bones
Harry Potter x Bellatrix Lestrange
Please review with your vote on the pairing but please know that flirting may happen with the two who are not chosen as well.