Disclaimer: It is very close to a statistical impossibility that I own Harry Potter
Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Great Britain - July 24, 1991
Harry awoke suddenly with a smile on his face, knowing it was going to be a good day. He didn't know how he knew, just that he did. He looked at the broken watch in the corner of his closet, and noted that it was almost 7; he had to get to work on chores. He finished them promptly and then cooked a large omelet, divvied it up, and sat down to eat. Just as the first bite entered his mouth, his uncle strolled into the room.
"Eating before us, are you? You finish your chores?" Vernon brusquely asked.
"Everything but the mail, sir," Harry meekly replied.
"Well what are you doing there, lazing about? Go get the mail, boy."
Harry sighed and began the, as his stomach always noted, long walk to the front door. He had figured that on a day as good as today he would be able to get away with eating a full portion: Dudley would have certainly stolen most of Harry's food by the time he returned. With another sigh he picked up the mail and began the trek back.
'Perhaps I got a letter,' he thought, 'That would make this a great day!' A quick glance at the mail informed him that there was, as always, nothing for him.
He quietly handed the mail to Uncle Vernon, sat down, and ate the three remaining bites. The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, and Harry went to sleep disappointed. It had not been a good day.
Stonewall High, Surrey, Great Britain - September 1, 1991
"Oi, ickle kiddy, we're here to welcome you to Stonewall High."
Harry spun around and noted the three older students standing behind him. He mentally dubbed them Shorty, Fatty, and Smelly, as per their defining characteristics. Fatty, the clear leader of the gang and the one who had spoken, suddenly pushed him down and crowed, "Well kiddy, do ya feel welcome?"
Harry stood up, but Smelly grabbed him and began pulling him towards the bathroom. Harry struggled but was unable to free himself from Smelly's odiferous grip. Fatty grabbed his shoulder from behind and shoved him into a stall, saying, "We're about to make you feel a whole lot more welcome," and as his cronies laughed at his attempt at humor, he began pushing Harry's head down.
Harry panicked and instinctually kicked his right leg back, catching Fatty right in the crotch. With Fatty's grip loosened, Harry dove between his bowed legs, knocking Fatty face first into the toilet. The two lunks guarding the entrance to the stall jumped at him, but strangely, their trainers found no traction with the floor and they instead fell forward, their heads knocking together. Harry scrambled to his feet and as he made to run, glanced behind himself.
Smelly and Shorty were unconscious on the floor and Fatty was sputtering and moaning inside the stall. With a grin on his face, Harry strolled out of the loo and winked at his fearful peers, who had seen the three bullies take him into the bathroom. Stonewall High had a new hero.
Stonewall High, Surrey, Great Britain - November 4, 1991
Harry noticed that he was now across the campus from where he was, making this the fifth time he had mysteriously escaped Fatty, Smelly, and Shorty, whose names he had refused to learn. He decided to ignore the oddity for the moment and focus on the pressing problem: the need to escape from the Rude Dudes, as he thought of them collectively. 'Well, I could always learn parkour, but I kinda want to fight back. I think I have enough change collected up to pay for martial arts lessons. I guess I need to find a dojo.'
On his 90 minute walk home, he paused at a phone booth and looked up the address of a dojo. He noticed that 'Ming's Judo' was near his path "home" and decided to stop there and look around. Upon arriving, he found that it appeared empty but was open. He went in and in the office was a 40-ish dangerous looking Chinese man. He greeted Harry with a smile and said, "Hello, welcome to my dojo. Would you like to learn?"
"I do, but I don't think I can afford it," Harry responded politely, having seen the prices on the wall.
"Oh? Can't your parents pay?"
"My aunt and uncle," Harry corrected, "Would never spend a single extra pence on me."
Ming hummed for a moment, disturbed. "Well perhaps we can negotiate a price better for you. Why do you wish to learn Judo?"
"Bullies at my school are after me and my friends. Could I do chores to make up for the remainder?"
"Yes, that'll work nicely," Ming decided, feeling pity for the nice young boy, "Just give me what you can afford and help me clean up after lessons. We meet on Tuesdays from 4 to 5 and on Sundays from 1 to 4. See you then."
"Thank you sir!" Harry exclaimed and walked off with a smile.
Magnolia Crescent, Little Winging, Surrey, Great Britain – June 1, 1992
Harry noticed that in his happiness of a successful date with Jenny, he was floating, literally, and decided, 'I think I'll look into these weird happenings this summer.'
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain – June 4, 1992
"Reducto!" exclaimed Quirrel, as he proved unable to obtain the stone.
He suddenly fell onto the ground, writhing in pain from the torture inflicted upon him for his, ultimately last, failure. The shade of Voldemort left the Defense Professor and made its hasty escape: by the time Dumbledore reached the room, all that remained was a rapidly cooling corpse and shards of glass.
Stonewall High, Surrey, Great Britain – January 20, 1993
"Mr. Dursley, where is your wife?" asked Ms. Bretts, the school counselor. "It is requested that both parents come to conferences."
"We didn't want to both waste the night on this boy, and she went last time." Mr. Dursley leaned forward menacingly and asked, "Is that a problem, Ms…." He trailed off questioningly, despite her name being on an obvious plaque on her desk.
"Bretts," she finished for him, beginning to look flustered, "And it is not a problem, as Harry is always a good boy."
"Hah! Him, a good boy? Rotten to the core, that one. Now my Dudders, on the other hand…"
"Well, it would seem we have nothing to discuss," she said, cutting him off. "I suppose you'll be leaving now." She turned to address the polite boy who had stayed sitting quietly off to the side for the meeting, and as he began to get up said, "Harry dear, if you could stay a moment."
"Have a nice night, Ms. Brats," Mr. Dursley said gruffly as he got up to leave.
"What a horrible man," Ms. Bretts said once he was gone. "Is he always like that?"
Harry gave a sad smile and said "No, no. He was on good behavior tonight."
"Oh my. Well if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be here."
"Thank you, Ms. Bretts," he said as he too left the office.
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain – February 10, 1993
"Professor Dumbledore, I found this diary in Moaning Myrtle's restroom. It responds when you write in it. I did some research and found that sentience can't be a good sign."
"Thank you, Ms. Granger. It was very wise of you to bring this to me. Twenty points to Gryffindor."
Hermione smiled at him and walked back down to the Gryffindor table, where she sat next to Neville. Dumbledore looked down at the book in his hands and thought, 'Oh Tom, what have you done?'
Stonewall High, Surrey, Great Britain – March 12, 1993
"Hello Harry. I suppose you're wondering why I called you here."
Harry nodded and said, "Yes, a little bit. Did I do something wrong?"
"No, not at all. This is about your home life. I've noticed that the Dursleys are not the ideal guardians."
"Eh, they're not that bad," Harry responded and then mumbled under his breath, "Well not that bad if you like being ignored and treated like a servant…"
"Yes, well, I've been looking at your records, and while you don't seem to be abused, they are indisputably horrible people."
Harry nodded again, wondering where she was going.
"So, I've come to the conclusion that, if you are willing, you should be transferred to a boarding school, where you won't have to go home to them every day."
Harry grinned widely and exclaimed, "That'd be brilliant! Thank you, thank you, and yes please."
"My sister is the Headmistress of Regents Boarding, a school just north of London proper. Since you're a perfect student, I'm sure we can get you in for free."
"Whew. There's no way the Dursleys would pay for that. So when will I be transferred?"
"You will finish the school year here and go there after summer vacation."
"Great! Thanks again Ms. Bretts," Harry said with a smile.
Hatchlands Park, Surrey, Great Britain – July 12, 1993
"Hah, Yes! I've finally gotten 500 meters down," Harry said as he blinked back and forth across the park, under the cover of darkness. 'I guess I should get to work on conjuring,' he thought with a sigh. Sitting down on a log, Harry began practicing what was, in his opinion, the hardest branch of magic. He held open his palm, with a look of great concentration on his face, and an acorn suddenly appeared in it.
'Damn, creating things is exhausting. Wait, matter "can't" be created. Maybe I should be doing this in a less impossible way…"
Harry focused on a rock on the ground, changed its molecular makeup to match that of gold, and then blinked it into his hand. 'Well, that was easier,' he thought, as he resolved to practice both methods, the first to improve his stamina and the second for control. He reached into his pocket to find something to practice telekinesis on, and his fingers met the card Master Ming had given him. He thought back to the conversation they had had earlier in the day.
"So, you will be leaving this summer, then?"
"Hmm, that region sounds familiar. Ah yes," Ming said with a snap of his fingers, "I have an uncle who lives in the area. He runs a tea shop, I have his card somewhere," he said, shuffling through his desk. "You should seek him for more training."
"Very well, Master."
Harry shrugged the memory off, having already resolved to follow Ming's advice, and began making the card zoom around the clearing.
A Beach House, Cherbourg, France – July 25, 1993
"Albus! Fancy seeing you here. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"No pleasure, I'm afraid. I am, in fact, on the most dire of business. I have recently learned that Tom has made a horcrux." Slughorn gasped and began his denial. "I am sorry Horace, but it is of the utmost importance that I have the real memory. I do not wish to use force."
Slughorn seemingly collapsed upon himself, a defeated man with all his friendly bluster gone, and used his wand to extract the memory.
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain – July 25, 1993
"Seven Tom? Oh, how could you stoop so low…"
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain – July 29, 1993
Dumbledore looked at the paper in front of him, and began thinking out loud. "So one of Tom's loyal followers has escaped Azkaban? And so soon after I learned the truth. Could it be a coincidence? Hmm, heard muttering "He's at Hogwarts". No, I must take any opportunity: I will hunt down Black myself, and learn what he knows."
Majorca, Spain – August 5, 1993
"Albus? Oh thank goodness it was you who found me. I need your help."
"Why would I help an escaped convict?" Dumbledore asked, sounding interested.
"I'm innocent Albus. Peter was the secret keeper and he framed me that day, killing the muggles and cutting off his own finger."
"Oh? Would you mind if I used legilimency on you?"
"Feel free," Sirius responded, looking Dumbledore right in the eye.
"Well, an innocent man is not at all what I expected to find," Dumbledore muttered after a short pause. "Is there any chance you know anything about horcruxes?" He asked absentmindedly.
"Some sort of horribly evil soul magic right? Now that you mention it, I think I remember hearing Kreacher and Reggie say something about one." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and Sirius hastily added "Err, Kreacher is the Black family house elf."
"And is this Kreacher still alive? I think I may have some questions for him."
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain – August 20, 1993
Having found and destroyed the locket, Dumbledore had to accept that there were multiple horcruxes. His search for the rest had turned up dry so far, as the cave he had found matched the description Kreacher had given him. Unfortunately, his duties were getting in the way of the search, and it had to be delayed.
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain – September 1, 1993
"Mr. Weasley, if you will follow me," Dumbledore said, as he began walking towards his office.
"Uh, okay Headmaster. Did I do something wrong?"
"No Mr. Weasely. Please just humor an old man."
Ron's eyes widened as he saw all the high ranking DMLE officials in the office. Dumbledore smiled at him and coughed. With a small gesture, a rat shot out of Ron's pocket and into Dumbledore's waiting hand. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I called you here," he began, and with a theatric wave, a short, fat, balding man was lying on the ground. "Allow me to introduce you to one Mr. Peter Pettigrew."
Regents Boarding, London, Great Britain – September 1, 1993
"Hi there," Julie said, as she walked away from her friends towards the cute guy standing alone, off to the side. "I'd like to welcome you Regents Boarding. I'm Julie. Who're you?"
Harry flashed her a friendly smile and responded, "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. It definitely seems like a nice school so far," he said as he ran his hand through his thick, tufted hair, "and having girls this pretty never hurts."
Julie's cheeks, which were already slightly flushed from noticing how muscular Harry was, lit up brightly from Harry's shameless flirting. She sputtered for a bit, and once she regained her composure smiled back at him and commented, "I'm sure you'll love it here, then. Come on; let's go introduce you to my friends."
Chao's Tea, London, Great Britain – September 6, 1993
Harry politely greeted the venerable Chinese man who was bustling around the shop with a "Hello there," and asked "Are you Chao?"
"Yes I am Chao. You want tea?" Chao abrasively responded.
"No, err well yes, but that's not why I'm here. Your cousin, my old Master Ming, recommended I come to you for further training."
"I do not train anymore. What tea do you want?"
"Ah, I'll have a green tea and a plain scone," Harry ordered, and asked, "Is there any way I can convince you to teach me?"
"I do not teach." Chao stated, as he left to deliver the order.
Harry sighed and shifted in his seat waiting for his tea. 'I guess I'll have to find a different dojo,' he thought as he habitually brushed his hair out of his face.
Five minutes later, Chao returned with the tea and scone, and raised his brows when he noticed Harry's scar. "Very well," he decided, "I shall teach you, marked one."
"Really?" Harry wondered, "That's great!" After a short pause Harry realized what he'd been called, and asked why.
"That scar on your forehead contains great evil," Chao responded. "You have been marked by a dangerous foe, and I expect you two are destined to meet again. For what purpose, I cannot say." Chao paused for a few moments, abruptly stated, "I shall work on you from dawn to dusk every Sunday. Do not come and you lose the privilege of my teaching," and walked off, leaving a speculative Harry behind.
Chao's Tea, London, Great Britain – September 7, 1993
"Hello Master Chao. What are we going to work on? Katas?"
"Katas? Bah! You wish to run before you can crawl? No, we will start on breathing."
"I know how to breathe, Master Chao," Harry said disappointedly.
"The student always thinks he knows everything," Chao stated, "but there is a reason he is the student and not the master."
45 minutes into the monotonous breathing exercises Harry began to get annoyed. The annoyance caused an irregularity in his breath pattern and Chao whacked him on the shoulder with a bamboo cane, again. "Argh! This is useless," Harry exclaimed, "I'm not going to get any better at breathing. Can't we do something else?"
"Yes. You lack patience and control. I obviously started you at too high a step: you shall meditate instead."
"Yes. Clear your mind of all thoughts. Sit there and stay there; do not move. I shall be back in five hours," Chao said as he got up to leave, turning off the light and shutting the door on the way out.
"Fuck that old man," Harry thought, and, in case Chao was listening, he voiced, "Well I guess there's no harm in trying, is there?"
Three hours into meditating, Harry successfully plunged himself into utter darkness, where he could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing. He had been sitting there in the darkness for what seemed like days, when he finally sensed some sort of aura. It felt warped, twisted, and malignant. He stood up and began walking towards it. A feeling of foreboding got stronger and stronger as he walked towards it and just before it became unbearable he stopped, sensing a barrier in front of him. With a mental shrug, he strolled through the barrier and suddenly felt terrible, soul-splitting, pain. He had to clench his teeth to keep from screaming and awoke from his trance.
About fifteen minutes later, and exactly five hours after he had left, Chao walked into the room to find Harry sitting there in the same position, sweating and shuddering, with blood running down from his split open scar.
Chao's Tea, London, Great Britain – September 25, 1993
Harry winced as he was once more subjected to the wall of pain that protected his, as he liked to call it, little evil implant. Something felt different this time, however; the wall seemed weaker. With an extra push, he cleared the wall and was finally free of the pain. Looking around, it seemed as if he was in the same pitch black locale as the rest of his mind, except it felt defiled. While he was getting his bearings and sending himself into an aware but highly meditative state, the sense of defilement increased tenfold, and an oily, twisted voice rang out, "Well if it isn't the Potter child. Come to pay little old me a visit, have you?"
Harry said nothing, as Chao had prepared him for this eventuality.
"Marked one. When you have breached this evil place, you will find a twisted spirit. This spirit feeds off of your emotions. It is part of your mind; thinking of it strengthens it. To defeat it, you must go before it and disregard it entirely."
Suddenly a giant, snakelike face appeared before Harry, its eyes glowing with hellfire. Harry didn't react and in his state of meditative calm, had had hardly noticed the appearance of his foe's visage. The face snarled at Harry's apathy and prepared to scream out angrily, but Harry finished his meditation, causing the face to disappear. He then walked off into the darkness to see find the memories that lay within.
Hanson Street, London, Great Britain—October 31, 1993
'Damn, I should so have not let myself get talked into egging those pansies,' Harry thought as he dodged into a building to avoid a constable. Looking around the pub he found himself in, he noted that everyone seemed to be wearing wizard costumes that all followed the same theme, even the bartender. 'What a weird party,' he thought, but shrugged and sat down at a table to order some food. A few minutes of befuddlement later, he looked up from his menu and asked the cute young waitress, who, he noted, was also dressed in a wizard costume, that was waiting for his order, "Erm, this all looks delicious and all, but what exactly is a hippogriff special?"
"Sautéed hippogriff steaks and leek soup," she replied without missing a beat.
"Hippogriff steaks?" Harry asked after a short pause.
"Yes, we purchase them from Scotland. Quite the rage these days. Would you like to order them? They're quite tasty."
"And they're made from real hippogriffs?" Harry asked, looking into her eyes to try to detect dishonesty.
"Of course! You must be asking because of the suit filed against hippogriff dealers a few months ago, but I assure you that we've kept up the quality of our supply."
"Uh huh," Harry said, not noticing any dishonesty in the waitress. "Well I guess I'll have that then."
The Wand in the Stone, Hanson Street, London, Great Britain—November 20, 1993
On his fourth visit to The Wand in the Stone, the little magical pub he had wandered into, he sat down at a table that had a drunk wizard sitting at it, in an attempt to gather information. The drunk looked up at him and eventually slurred out, "Oi, are you Harry Potter?"
"Who me?" Harry asked, confused as to how the drunk knew his name, and finally responded, "Err no, I'm Jim. Jim Timmons," giving the drunk the false name he habitually used.
"Aww well. You sure do look like 'im."
"Yeah, but sadly I am not. He sure is a great guy though…" Harry said, in an attempt to fish for information.
"Great guy nothing! He's the sav'ya of the entire wizarding world."
Harry blinked, rather confused by the drunk's antics. "What a hero," Harry finally said with a smile. "I forget the exact details though. Care to remind me, mate?"
"How could ya' forget? The-Boy-Who lived was the one to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," the man said, whispering the last bit.
"Ah, of course, how silly of me. And how old do you reckon he was when he did this?"
"Err, about one and a half I'd say. He got a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead when he offed the bastard," the drunk finished, remembering some more of the story.
"Err, wow... I've got to be going."
Chao's Tea, London, Great Britain – December 22, 1993
Having finished the exhausting process of moving the spirit's memories outside of his little evil implant, Harry crossed the wall of pain one last time. The visage appeared and this time, instead of ignoring it as he usually did, Harry looked right at it and spoke, "I see you, spirit. I hear you, I smell you, and I sense your presence." Harry then began the meditative process he had honed over the last several months and spoke again, "I see you no longer, spirit," he said as his sight was cut off. "I hear you no longer, smell you no longer, and no longer sense your presence." With no way of detecting the shade, Harry intoned, "You no longer exist. You are nothing."
Harry opened his eyes to see Chao gazing at him. "It is done, Master," he said, noticing a lack of a minor malignant aura that he hadn't noticed before now.
Regents Boarding, London, Great Britain – March 12, 1994
"Harry, I know that you're new to poker, but you should at least look at your cards."
"I'll be fine, Julie."
"How in the world are you winning without even looking at your cards? That's impossible!"
"Magic," Harry responded, with a wave of his fingers. 'Damn, luck manipulation is totally the best branch of magic.'
Breshke, Albania—July 15, 1994
Luckily for Voldemort, because he had, ah, advanced to future victories (Dark Lords do not retreat), before Dumbledore arrived, his spectre had retained enough strength to travel and possess weak willed individuals. Unfortunately for one Bertha Jorkins, she was one such weak willed individual.
The Riddle House, Little Hangleton, Great Britain—August 15, 1994
"I thank you again, My Lord, for freeing me," Crouch said, as he crouched on the ground before Berthamort. "What are your orders?"
"You … will bring me the Potter boy."
"Yes My Lord."
The Wand in the Stone, Hanson Street, London, Great Britain—September 12, 1994
"Hey Jim, are you busy tonight?"
"Not for a few hours," Harry responded to the pretty waitress. "Why do you ask, Sammy?"
"Well the boss told me that I'm on supply duty after my shift is over, so I have to head over to Diagon Alley to pick up and sign off a few purchases, and figured I could use an extra pair of hands. You game?"
Harry smiled internally, glad that getting a part time job at the pub was finally paying off, and accepted the offer.
The two pops that mark side-along apparition rang out, and Harry and Sammy found themselves in the ministry approved apparition site. Sammy began the short walk to their destination: a building located behind Magical Menagerie that was fittingly titled Magical Meats. They quickly acquired the goods and Harry acquired a firm visual image of a nearby empty alley, so that he would be able to teleport there on return trips.
Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley, London, Great Britain—September 13, 1994
'Finally, a bookstore. Damn, but there are some weird shops here..." Harry thought, as he sifted through the store to find the books on wizarding culture and immediate history that he had deemed of utmost importance. He picked up a copy of The History of Magic, as it seemed to be in a place of reverence, and skipped to the section on The-Boy-Who-lived's triumph over You-Know-who. There was little new information to Harry, and he still did not know who, but there was one little tidbit that interested Harry: "leaving the Boy-Who-Lived the sole inheritor of the Potter family fortune."
Harry left the bookstore and headed down to the bank he had noticed on his search. Upon arriving, he paused, noticing the little evil gnomes that appeared to run the bank, and turned around and returned to the bookstore. He bought several books on wizarding culture, a few books on goblin culture, and many books of magic. He smiled to himself as he paid, glad that he could put the money that was in the stolen purse to good use. Why that snooty blonde prick was carrying a woman's purse like it was the most natural thing in the world, he would never know.
The Riddle House, Little Hangleton, Great Britain—September 15, 1994
"You…still have not found me the boy?"
"N-no milord. I thought I saw him in Diagon Alley a few days ago, but it a was false alarm…"
"A false alarm?" Voldemort hissed angrily, still trapped in the now emaciated body of Bertha Jorkins. "The best you can do is a false alarm?"
"Forgive me my lord. I-I am trying. I am your most loya—"
"Crucio!" Voldemort shrieked, interrupting Crouch. "You will find me the boy, or you will die. Leave my my presence, failure."
Regents Boarding, London, Great Britain – November 16, 1994
"Hey, Harry, we're heading down to the barbershop. Want to come?"
"Err, no thanks Jim," Harry responded to the friend whose name he used in the wizarding world. "My hair grows really slowly."
"Ok. See you later then," Jim said as he left.
'Hey, now that I think about it, my hair does grow really slowly. Unnaturally slowly, if it even grows at all. It has regrown with magic a few times though…'
Harry went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror, trying to urge his hair to grow with magic. Nothing was happening, so Harry tried to overload the magic and everything went dark. 'Am I unconscious?' Harry thought, before realizing that he could see dim light, and felt something covering his face. He brushed aside what he now realized was hair, and looked at himself in the mirror.
'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair,' he thought with a grin as he tried, and managed, to shorten his hair back to its normal length. He glanced at the dashing fellow in the mirror, and wondered if he could change his appearance more than just his hair length.
'Damn, altering living cells hurts like a bitch,' Harry thought, after trying to change his skin color. 'So, in a pinch I can do it, but only dead cells are painlessly alterable. That's fine, I look great as it is.'
Regents Boarding, London, Great Britain – October 11, 1994
Harry slumped down on the bed, sore as ever after the beat down Chao let out. 'At least I'm learning how to fight now,' Harry thought, 'and am finally done with all that breathing and balance shit. Even though I used my luck manipulation, I got my ass beat. I suppose whatever cosmic system that organizes luck thought it was "lucky" for me to get those wise words of wisdom of his…"
"Beware marked one," Chao began, once Harry "luckily" dodged one of Chao jabs, by falling on his ass, "for too much luck produces an imbalance. Perhaps this imbalance will snap back at you, perhaps not. But dare you tempt Lady Luck?"
The Riddle House, Little Hangleton, Great Britain—November 1, 1994
"M-master, I swear I'll find him next time…"
"There will be no next time, fool. You have but one purpose left—" Voldemort said, cutting off abruptly as his spirit left the all but dead body of Bertha Jorkins and possessed Crouch's. "You get the priviledge of being the vessel that brings me to a more competent minion," he finished, inside his new body.
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, Great Britain—November 2, 1994
"Hello…Lucius," Voldemort hissed, sitting comfortably in the main chair of Lucius' office, as he greeted the man who entered.
"My Lord!" Lucius exclaimed, recognizing the hiss, and falling to his knee. He began stammering, "My Lord, I have prepa—"
"Spare me the drivel Lucius. Bring me Harry Potter."
"Yes My Lord," Lucius respectfully said, and left the office to begin his search, dismissed.
Paris, France—March 25, 1995
Harry was enjoying the vacation to France. It was a school sponsored event so he was with all his friends, and somehow they, along with their teacher, had gotten lost. In Paris. With none of them speaking a word of French. They had been wandering for about an hour now, as the few English speaker they had encounters gave them vague directions to their hotel that didn't really help at all. Harry paused at a stand to purchase a roll, and felt his danger senses go off. He turned around, saw only a faceful of red light, and suddenly knew no more.
A Graveyard, Little Hangleton, Great Britain—March 25, 1995
Lucius Malfoy was ecstatic. The Potter boy had shown up on several tracing charms suddenly; apparently he had left the range of Dumbledore's wards by foolishly crossing the channel. He had even managed to find the boy before the Dark Lord had begun torturing his family; young Draco didn't even know about the new development. Lucius shook his head and strolled towards the little git that was the source, it not the literal cause, of all the torture he'd had to undergo lately. The brat was strapped to a gravestone and still unconscious. Lucius stabbed the boy with the sacrificial knife to obtain the 'Blood of the foe, Forcibly taken' and Harry awoke with a scream.
'Fuck! Where am I?' Harry thought as he looked at the head of the oddly familiar blonde prick that was strolling away with his blood in a jar. Harry watched the man carry out some sort ritual and saw some sort of malevolent shade enter some sort of steaming cauldron. Harry decided not to stick around for the grand finale, and blinked away.
After blinking to a safe location, Harry focused his mind and teleported into the back room of Chao's tea, where he would stay for a few days before returning to school and claim that he was kidnapped.
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain—March 25, 1995
Dumbledore had expected that when his whizzer (or was it a whirrer? He was never sure.) had alerted him that Harry was in danger and then was promptly safe that nothing would come of it. Perhaps it was a misreading or Harry got in a little fight. He did not expect however, for Severus to report to him a few hours later that Tom had been resurrected and Harry was used and had escaped.
"Harry, Harry, is your time up? Can the world afford for you to remain a child, or must I force fame and power upon you? Has my decision to give you a normal childhood been so quickly overturned? No. You do not need to enter the public eye yet. Yes, that is what I shall do," Dumbledore decided, and resolved to introduce Harry to the world of magic after the school year ended. He would need some time to catch up, of course, but maybe he could be present for seventh year.
Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, Scotland, Great Britain—June 24, 1995
Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, glared around the pitch diligently, expecting something to happen if he got distracted while clapping for the victor of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Cedric Diggory. Karkaroff looked mighty suspicious, rubbing his mark like that, but ultimately nothing happened.
Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Great Britain—July 12, 1995
Harry strolled up to his relative's house, having finished his morning jog, and bent down to pick up the mail on the way in. He glanced at the pile and noticed that there was a package of parchment addresses to 'Harry Potter, The Smaller Bedroom, Number 4 Privet Drive', and took it into his room, his shower forgotten. The fine vellum inside read:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Gran Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwup,
Internation confed. of Wizards)
'Huh, so they're finally entering me in Hogwarts? I wonder why…' Looking down the page, he noted that it seemed more like a personal letter than a formal admission.
Hello Harry. I suppose you are wondering what this is all about. My dear boy, you are a wizard. A human with magical power, in case you were unaware. While most English wizards, including your parents, attended Hogwarts at eleven, circumstances made it impossible for you to do so. I regret taking away your birthright, but hopefully I can now right the wrong I wrought, and allow you admission to Hogwarts. Please send your response with the owl.
'Sounds wise and humble but is also subtly manipulative,' Harry thought. 'Yep, that matches everything I've heard about him. I suppose Hogwarts would be a good place to make connections, so I'll go along with it for now,' and scrawled an amicable acceptance, hoping to end up on the powerful headmaster's good side, before realizing the letter had not arrived with an owl. He then heard the incessant tapping on his window and opened it to find a disgruntled owl that had been hovering there pecking for several minutes. He pulled out some string and tied the letter to the owl's leg as he had seen wizards do, and the owl took off.
Several hours later he received a package that was much too small for the dozen books it contained, and a missive to read said books and to expect to begin training with a wand next summer.
Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain—November 18, 1995
"Well Gred, this Defense Professor falls under category two."
"Yes he does, brother mine. 'Hafta admit though, it's rather odd—"
"—Having a competent DADA teacher for three years running."
"Yes, yes. Makes you rather miss Lockhart, 'cause you know what category two means…"
"No pranking…" Forge finished for his twin with a sigh.
Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Great Britain—December 12, 1995
Harry tossed the finished Standard Book of Spells: Year Four, leaving only the fifth year set remaining out of all the books Dumbledore had gotten him. 'Well, I guess I'll have head in to Flourish and Blott's and purchase the books for sixth and seventh year this break…'
Department of Mysteries, Minstry for Magic (level 9), London, Great Britain—December 18, 1995
"Merlin, Ralph! There's a body there!"
"Bloody Hell! Hey, isn't that Arthur Weasley?"
"Yeah, red hair and all! We've got to take him to Saint Mungos…"
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, Great Britain—May 21, 1996
"I grow tired of waiting as you fools fail me again and again."
"We'll do it next time, M-Master—"
"Crucio. Speak not in my presence, Avery, you failure." Voldemort looked up at the gathering of Death Eaters before him and spoke, "You are all so incompetent that you cannot infiltrate a bureaucratic ministry or find a schoolboy. I should not allow any of you pitiful wastes of space to breathe this air. But I am merciful. Tonight, you all shall get one last chance. I have waited long enough; I will lead the assault on the Ministry myself. It is time the world remembers to fear Lord Voldemort," he finished, glaring as his minions cheered.
Department of Mysteries, Minstry for Magic (level 9), London, Great Britain—May 21, 1996
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lor—"
Voldemort let out a shriek of inhuman rage as the fragile glass prophecy ball shattered in his hands. He whirled around to find Dumbledore standing across the room from him, wand extended. Dumbledore looked down his spectacles and mused, "I wonder what that little ball had to say. Don't you, Tom?"
Voldemort loosed a killing curse at the wise headmaster, and in a fit of magic power fuelled by anger, shouted "Bombarda" at the ceiling, tearing through dozens of feet of magically reinforced bedrock, and flew up to the next floor. Fawkes appeared on Dumbledore's shoulder, and in a burst of fire, they both appeared before Voldemort. Voldemort gradually tore his way to the Atrium of the Ministry, fending off curses from Dumbledore all the while. He then set off a huge burst of fiendfyre at his feet, and while Dumbledore was busy protecting civilians, Voldemort apparated away, tail between his legs.
Diagon Alley, London, Great Britain—May 22, 1996
Strolling through the alley, Harry suddenly had a newspaper shoved into his hands, with the scared sounding vendor saying something along the lines of "They're free today…" Harry didn't really catch what the man was saying, as he was staring into the paper in his hands.
YOU-KNOW-WHO ATTACKS MINISTRY, FOUGHT OFF BY SUPREME MUGWUMP
'Huh. I bet this is why Dumbledore is entering me into Hogwarts. Sly old bastard.'
In a shocking course of events, the Dark Lord, long presumed dead after his failure to kill the Boy-Who-Lived on October 31, 1981, snuck into the Department of Mysteries in order to steal an undisclosed object. Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin 1st Class, Supreme Mugwump, etc., caught him there and destroyed the object. The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has increased auror funding and sent reinforcements to Azkaban to prevent a breakout. So begins the Second Wizarding War. For Dumbledore's official statement, see page 3. For Fudge's official statement, see page 5.
Harry stared at the picture accompanying the column, and watched as the Dark Lord threw down an explosion and apparated away and Dumbledore conjured a shimmering shield. For a moment in each loop, Harry could see the Dark Lord's fiery eyes staring right at the camera. He shivered, suddenly chilled, and turned to read the rest of the article.
Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey—July 7, 1996
Harry set down his book on Arithmancy as his wards detected a wizard. He had recently found a book on wards and had taken to them like a fish to water, and had been practicing by setting up an assortment of wards. The wizard had crossed Dumbledore's notice-me-not wards and the powerful anti-hostile-intent wards that he had only recently detected without triggering them. He went down to greet the wizard, and opened the door right when the wizard went to knock. 'Damn, I love seeing people's faces when I do that,' Harry thought, and voiced to the wizard, "Hello there. Please come in."
"Err… hello Harry. I'm, uh, here to buy you a wand and teach you to use it, because with You-Know-Who out there, you're not safe anywhere but Hogwarts."
Harry looked at the man; 'he seems nervous but… hopefull? Yes, that is definitely hope. Odd…' "Wonderful! I can't wait to do magic," Harry said cheerfully and asked for a name.
"Black. Sirius Black," Sirius paused for a moment before continuing, "I'm your godfather, Harry."
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again shortly. He eventually spoke in a dry voice, "My… godfather?"
"Yeah. I was your father's best mate."
"I have a magical godfather… but I grew up with the Dursleys."
Sirius spoke with a pained look, "I know it's no excuse Harry, but I was in Azkaban."
"Wizarding prison. I had gone to hunt down the traitor that sold off your parents, but I failed and was framed for a murder I didn't commit."
"Huh. So about that wand..." Harry segued, not wanting to talk about the uncomfortable subject.
"Ah, right. Here, I'll apparate us into Diagon Alley."
"Wait a moment; I need to get dressed," Harry responded, as he went inside to put on a hat and a scarf and wizarding clothes so he wouldn't be recognized.
Ollivanders Wand Shop, Diagon Alley, Great Britain—July 7, 1996
"Please Sirius, be serious for a moment. Diagonally is a horrible pun and whoever came up with it deserves to be drawn and quartered."
"Firstly, Harry, I'm always serious. Secondly, it's not as bad as Knockturn Alley or Aesthetic Alley. Thirdly, we're here," Sirius finished as he opened the door to Ollivanders.
"Think about it, Sirius," Harry continued as he walked through the door, "Diagon Alley sounds like someone thought they were clever with their puns, and then someone else came along and used the same naming schema for the rest of the alleys. At least the other names correlate to what type of alley it is."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. Obviously, it was named so because it is diagonal to Gringotts."
"Obliviously, more like," Harry muttered under his breath, and then nearly jumped out of his shoes when he heard an undetected presence behind him begin to speak.
"Sirius Black. Nine inches, cherry wood, unicorn hair core, swishy. Good for charms if I remember correctly, and I always do."
"Hah, Sirius, that is the girliest wand I have ever seen."
"Fuck you, Harry," Sirius responded, and muttered under his breath, "like father like son, the blighters…"
"Harry Potter," Ollivander spoke, as if he had just noticed the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived. "Finally come to get a wand, I see. Well come along, you haven't got all day."
Ollivander sifted through piles of wands, handing them to Harry and having him wave it. Each one responded strongly, but Ollivander kept shaking his head and tossing them away. He eventually reached for the one he had been keeping away, obviously for dramatic effect, and muttered, "I wonder, I wonder…" Harry, refusing to play along with the mad old wandmaker, just stood there, continuing to laugh at Sirius' wand. Ollivander glared at him and handed him the wand. Harry waved the wand, expecting the brilliant sparks every other wand had given off, and was pleasantly surprised when there was a sonic boom, all the glass shattered, and everything fell to the floor.
Ollivander and Sirius repaired the shop with a few Reparo's. Ollivander gazed at Harry triumphantly and then murmered, "Curious, curious. Curious that you should get the wand, when its brother gave you that scar."
Sirius paid the man and ushered Harry out of the shop before the creepy monologue could be finished. Sirius grabbed Harry for side-along apparition and warped them away.
12 Grimmauld Place, London, Great Britain—July 7, 1996
"Okay Harry, normally minors aren't allowed to do magic, but Dumbledore got you a permit. We'll start small, just take your wand and swish and flick it like this. Once you've got the movement down the motion down, point your wand at this cup at say 'Wingardium Leviosa'."
"Wingardium Leviosa? That sounds ridiculous. I'll do it silently."
"Harry, silent casting is difi—" Sirius paused as he noticed the couch he was sitting on zooming around the room. "But you're a beginner…" Sirius muttered.
"It's the kickass wand, Sirius. If your wand wasn't lame you could do it too."
12 Grimmauld Place, London, Great Britain—July 25, 1996
"Hah! Finally, something you can't do," Sirius cheered, as a white wisp came out of Harry's wand.
"Oh woe is me, my evil godfather is cheering that I am not happy enough. I think I'll go cut myself."
"Chipper up, Harry. Maybe if you weren't so sarcastic all the time, you would be happier."
"Yeah, whatever, fuck you. Let's go duel some more if you're feeling so full of yourself."
"Any day of the week, chump," Sirius responded to the challenge.
Gaunt Shack, Little Hangleton, Great Britain—August 6, 1996
Dumbledore looked down at the ancient ring in his hand. He began to slip the ring on his finger, hoping to see his little sister once more, but stopped. 'No, I can't risk this. Forgive me, Ariana, but Harry needs my guidance. I'm so sorry...'
12 Grimmauld Place, London, Great Britain—August 24, 1996
"Hey Harry, whatcha looking at?"
"Already? Damn, those came in quick. Let me see those," Sirius said as he snatched the paper out of Harry's hands.
"Ancient Runes: E. Notes: Translated perfectly, marked down for vulgarity. Really Harry?"
"In my defense, that proctor was an ass."
"Arithmancy: O. Notes: Bonus for pointing out error in official equation.
Care of Magical Creatures: E.
Charms: O. Notes: All charms done silently.
Defense Against the Dark Arts: E. Notes: Won duel but resorted to 'reducto' to defeat most creatures.
Potions: O. Notes: Successfully modified polyjuice potion.
Transfiguration: O. Notes: Performed permanent transfiguration. Damn, but you're a nerd."
"Fuck you Sirius. Did you even get any O.W.L.'s?"
"Four E's, two A's, and an O. But I bet you could've gotten twelve E's or O's if you had bothered to take every test."
"Keep telling yourself that, eh."
Platform 9, King's Cross Station, London, Great Britain—September 1, 1996
Harry looked at the wall before him, knowing stepping through it would finalize his introduction to the wizarding world. He let out a light chuckle and smoothly strolled through the barrier.
A/N: This is my first story, so please review. It is set entirely in J.K.R.'s world, and all deviations are due to underdevelopment on her part or 'butterfly effect' on mine. Have a nice day.