A/N: Welcome to my third HPfic. Where my first two have seemed to hold something, I have found myself at a loss with them. This one though, I have held a secret for a good three or so weeks. That isn't a long time no, but with the ammount of writing I have for it, the plans, it's almost a shock that I havn't presented it sooner. So I suppose, that is if you even took the time to read this, I'll let you go on, so you can find out just what I've come up with. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Summary: At 13 Harry learns of the piece of soul contained within him. Upon getting it removed, he's given a choice, stay and train under those who lied to him, or go and train in ways only a few others ever have. In under eleven minutes, Harry Potter makes his chioce.
CHAPTER TWO WILL BE POSTED WITHIN A WEEK
Disclaimer: This will be the only time I post this, it's silly to have it posted more than once. I do not own Harry Potter, any characters known to belong to JK Rowling, or the world she has created.
Would it be foolish of me to ask for reviews?
It was more than two weeks ago when Oswald Indigo, a man closing in on his late fifties, decided he was finally ready to settle down. Not in the sense that he was taking the step and asking a woman to marry him, because there was no woman, just him and all the knowledge he had gathered over the years to perfect his craft; The craft of wand making.
With well over fifty wands already made, and ready for whoever fit them best, he set off to find the perfect location for his small store. His first few visits to various towns were anything but promising, and upon remembering there was a wand shop already cemented in the acclaimed Diagon Alley, he made his way to the small village of Hogsmeade. It was here, he would, for lack of a better term, set up shop.
The shop itself was on the side of the scale one would label small, with the outside painted a dark shade of burgundy, while the inside was a welcoming brownish color that reminded one of the wilderness. The front room had a glass display case which held the different types of woods the wand maker used, and off to the side on a tall desk sat different tools he would use for measuring up a customer. In the corner was a table with four chairs easily placed around it. The backroom was, of course, his workshop. A small work bench surrounded by towers of shelves and cabinets full of wand cores and wood. There was of course another level, but that was strictly off limits, as Mr. Indigo made it his home.
Unbeknownst to the wand maker, a small boy was on a secret outing to the village, having found himself bored in the confinements of his school. With the new shop in sight, the ever curious lad made his way unseen to the door and slipped inside.
Oswald, having been putting the final touches on the display case, turned to meet the newcomer. "Hello, how can I help you?" he asks, a small welcoming smile spreading across his slightly wrinkled face.
"Oh hi, um, I was just, er, curious. You're new here," the boy rambled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm Harry."
Oswald nodded his head, the smile still on his face, and introduced himself, "Oswald Indigo, I make ready wands and craft custom wands when I get the right costumer. What can I do for you Harry?"
Harry smiled at the man, never having met another wand maker before, and shakes his head. "Um, I guess nothing, I already have a wand," Harry says, looking around the small area, and Oswald nods in understanding.
"Of course, of course. An Olivander product, correct?" At Harry's nod he asked, "Would you mind if I examine your wand, I'm curious as to what kind of qualities Mr. Olivander uses," Oswald explains. He doesn't actually think the young man would agree, but smiles all the same when Harry nods and hands it over, curious himself.
He watches closely as the man he just met inspects his wand. Oswald gives nothing away as he hands the wand back, but it's obvious he takes a closer look at the young man before him.
"Well?" Harry asked, interested in what this new wand maker thought.
"I wonder Harry, if I could take a look at your magical essence?" Oswald asks. Never having been asked such a thing before Harry questions it. "Merely to see if the wand truly matches the wizard."
Deciding there'd be no harm, Harry nods and lets Oswald examine his magical essence. A slight tickling sensation fills his chest, right next to his heart. As soon as it starts, it stops, and looking up to the wand maker he's confused to find the man frowning.
"What is it?" Harry asks. Was there something wrong with him?
"Harry," Oswald says, conjuring up an arm chair right behind the young boy. "Have you ever had your essence scanned before?"
An ever more bewildered expression fills his face, and he shakes his head. "At least I don't think so."
"Would you like me to tell you what I found?" Oswald asks, taking a deep breath. If the boy said no, he'd have to find his parents, and tell them, and if they weren't around, then his caretaker.
"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, wanting to know what this information was sooner than he wanted to take in his next breath of air.
Oswald's voice sounded strained as he reported on the scan, "I found a few things. One, your wand doesn't quite suit you. Don't get me wrong, it will always work just perfectly for you, but as I found out the next thing I'm about to tell you, there could be some problems. So, secondly, there is a well of untapped magic inside of you. If you were to access this, you wand would likely not respond well to such power, and could potentially crack and break. Lastly, which is also the most concerning, there is a piece of someone else's soul encased inside that scar on your forehead."
As Oswald expected would happen, Harry stood there for a minute, processing, before his legs gave way, and consciousness escaped him. Oswald had the smallest amount of relief that the armchair he conjured behind the young man, caught him.
Calling on his owl, Oswald wrote a quick note, and told the owl to deliver it to the first teacher it saw. As he watched to make sure it made it out of the shop fine, he hurried over to the fireplace and threw in a batch of floo powder.
"Grey," he said, the face of his friend coming into view, "I have an issue here. It's not something to talk about through the fireplace though. Come quickly."
As he got up off his knees and turned around, he found himself face to face with an extremely worried looking witch.
"What has happened? Why has Harry fainted? What did you do? And who are you?" the witch fired off, a strong Scottish accent laced through the syllables. The wizard that she had come with, a very short man, almost goblin in appearance, was examining the shop calmly, a tiny bit of interest on his face.
"Young Harry just wandered into my shop. When I told him who I was, what I did, and if he needed anything, he informed me he already had a wand. I asked to examine it, curious about the qualities Mr. Olivander used, when I found the wand was actually concerned. I then asked the boy if I could scan his magical essence, he agreed and I found some very troubling information. The two most important things being that he has quite a large well of untapped magic, and the other…" he trailed off, the ramifications of it all settling in his mind. "Harry has a piece of someone else's soul attached to his scar."
At the news the wizard let out a strangled gasp, and the witch quickly snapped her eyes shut, as if the information would blind her.
"And just who are you?" she finally asked, opening her eyes slowly.
"Oh, I'm ever so sorry, Oswald Indigo, I make ready wands and craft custom wands when I get the right costumer," he said, a ghost of a smile on his face.
"Professor McGonagall, and my colleague, Professor Flitwick," she replied, her mouth pressed in a firm line.
No sooner than a second later the fireplace flares and out comes another new face.
Oswald, relieved his friend was finally here, gestured to the small table he had placed in the corner of the shop, offering cups of tea. "Until the boy wakes up," he explained at the sight of McGonagall's unpleased expression. "This is Jonathan Grey, a friend of mine. He's a well qualified healer, specializes in souls."
Jonathan Grey gave Oswald a grim look, politely shook the hands of McGonagall and Flitwick, before turning to his friend. "Is this what this is about? Tell me everything."
Oswald once again told the story and as he finished Grey turned to McGonagall, requesting to know as much as she knew about the boy. With all the facts laid out in front of him, Grey nodded.
"This is what we'll do then. Once the boy wakes up, we'll bring him to your schools infirmary. I will then do my duty and remove the foreign soul, as well as banish it. Will this be alright?" Grey asked. McGonagall nodded, and Flitwick, who had been silent up until this point asked just what he would be doing when he removed the soul.
A large frown sprouted on the mans face. "This won't be an easy process. It will take it's toll on the boy, and could very well destroy him. I'll be honest and say I've never done something like this before, but I'm confident things will work out. A lot of this will weigh on Mr. Potter, just as much as it will weigh on me. And at the end, it will be him that does the final part of it all."
As he finished explaining what would happen, a groan escaped from the boy, gaining all their attention.
McGonagall and Flitwick quickly went over to him, and as he opened his eyes and acknowledged what was going on, he quickly bowed his head. He would definitely be in trouble.
Instead of hearing McGonagall's sharp tongue, or Flitwick's unhappy tone, he heard them ask how he felt.
"I'm not sure, I mean, no different from before, but now that I know I just feel," he paused, unsure of what to say. He really wasn't sure what he felt, but he knew there was something different. "I guess I just feel wrong."
McGonagall gave him a small pat on the shoulder and turned to Mr. Indigo and a new man Harry didn't recognize, but realized would have come while he was unconscious.
"Harry, this is Jonathan Grey, he is going to come with us to the school where he will remove the," she stopped talking for a second, almost choking on the words, "piece of soul."
"Okay!" he said, actually sounding cheerful. Bolting towards the door as if he hadn't just been out cold, he quickly stopped himself, and turned to thank the wand maker.
"No thanks are needed," Mr. Indigo said, the smile back on his face. "It was nice to meet you Harry. I'm sure I'll see you here soon."
"It was nice to meet you too, Mr. Indigo, and I'm sure," Harry said, and without further ado, left with his teachers, plus Mr. Grey, for Hogwarts.
As they get closer to the castle, Flitwick offers to go and inform Dumbledore of all that would be happening, and takes his leave. When they finally reach the infirmary, Mr. Grey tells Harry to lie on a bed, as McGonagall explains the situation to Madam Pompfrey, who was eyeing the tall healer with suspicion.
An understanding quickly fell over Pompfrey, who looked as if she would be sick at the news. She swiftly asked if there was something she could do to help, and with a speed Harry didn't realize she could reach, fetched a potion from a cupboard.
With everything ready, the adults gathered around his bed, and Pompfrey handed him the potion. Mr. Grey explained that it would be an easier process if he were asleep. Taking the potion, it quickly took hold, and Harry was once more unconscious.
Being out cold, Harry missed Dumbledore's angry entrance. "You must not do this! We have no idea who you are! And surely, this will do more harm than good," he immediately argued.
Pompfrey and McGonagall looked between the two men, wondering just how Mr. Grey would react, when they were granted their answer.
Mr. Grey, not happy with someone trying to meddle in a situation they could be of no use, snapped at the old man, "Because a soul feeding off his magic and overall life essence is good! Step back and let me do my job."
Dumbledore bowed his head. This man held a certain aura of magic and confidence that demanded no one try and push him about, and Dumbledore had to respect it. Gesturing for him to continue, he took a deep breath. Just what would happen to young Harry if this were to go wrong? The world needed their hero.
Mr. Grey gave a sharp nod and with a series of wand movements and unintelligible Latin, got to work.
Everyone was silent until a minute into the spell Harry starts screaming, a long echo of pain sounding out the door. A group passing the infirmary, curious to what was going on, quietly opened the door to sneak a peak. They were shocked frozen at the sight of Harry's body that had just started to tremble.
A few more minutes pass and sweat starts appearing over every inch of the young boy. It must have been the fastest fever ever struck and they hurried to strip him of the clothes on his body.
Another five minutes passed in pained silence and Mr. Grey finally stops moving his wand, but continues to chant under his breath. A black ooze mixed with blood escapes from his scar.
Finally, after eleven minutes, it's over, and an inhuman wail emits from Harry's mouth, heard by the entire castle and a few people in Hogsmeade. As that scream too, stops, so does Harry's heart.
EDITED: Fixed a spelling mistake a few people kept on me about. If anyone wants to beta for me, you know, make sure what I'm posting is all in the same tense, pretty it up, I'm open to that. Just message me or comment if you're interested!