Disclaimer: I'm not female, nor do I have the initals JKR, which, if you're looking up stories to read in this section of FanFiction dot Net… you should know who they belong to, as she is the creator of the highest-used realm of impossibilities that we would like to take part in.
(Harry Potter, if you didn't know)
Sadly, I don't own it.
If I did… I'd still probably read FanFiction. *wink*
"Fifteen Years' Worth" is a non-profit based 'Fanfic.' Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and whoever else she is sharing the profits with. Please support the official release.
'Thoughts'
"Conversations." / "Conversations." / "Conversations."
Posted: Thursday, January 20, 2011
Updated (Second Time): Thursday, March 3, 2011: Removed random rant from the Author's notes bottom. Added even more info and cleared up some things.
Fifteen Years' Worth
Prologue
~Fifteen Years' Worth~
- Prologue: Start –
November 7, 1981 - Flamel Manor, Somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere
Nicolas frowned, staring at the letter he held in his hand.
This kid, Harry Potter… the monitors showed he was on the 'Good Kid' list. But unlike the others… he was on the 'Bad Kid' list as well.
"This isn't right." He muttered to himself, his brows knitting themselves together in his worry. Looking at the records, he was a very good kid last year, and recently, he'd gotten a message from the elves that monitored the children. And, sad to say, this new generation of magicals… to say the least... well… They sucked. He wasn't much for put-downs and stuff like that, but those in power certainly were horrible parents if they were the ones teaching the children their bad habits. He shook his head, letting loose a long sigh that fluttered his wide beard.
"What's wrong, Nick?" a voice called out from the antechamber to his study. His wife, Perenelle, of over four hundred years. Dressed in a red dress framed in white, the woman three-hundred years his junior still flaunted her voluptuous body at him constantly… ahh, the wonders of true love. Moving his eyes away from the sight of her swaying hips he motioned for her to come closer.
"This kid…" he muttered, pointing at the reports, "They show that he's on the lists."
Raising her eyebrow delicately, she asked slowly, wondering whether or not he was drunk, "What's wrong with that, husband?"
He shook his head, handing over both of the letters as he thought over the situation, letting her find out for herself. And at her gasp of surprise, he chuckled, "You see?"
"Yeah… how is it possible, Nicolas?" she asked, settling down on the armrest of his chair.
"I have no idea. And I've checked over the monitoring wards I've set up… and they're working even better than they should be."
"Then why don't we go and try to find him?" she asked, holding the papers in her left hand and running her other one through his head.
He smiled grimly as he shook his head, "I've already tried. I can't find him, nor can I send him anything. Anything sent gets turned away. Even the elves can't find him… This is terribly disconcerting."
"Well, why don't we make monitors for him specifically, so that we could find him if he does appear?"
"Sadly… we can't… we can only check every once in a while. We have many other children to check over, anyway." He suggested, before a grin slowly came to his face.
Seeing that look, she eyed him warily, peering closely at his eyes, "What are you thinking, Nick?"
"I was just thinking…" he slowly began, taking hold of her hands as he stared back at her face, "that this… might be a great way to figure out that one problem with the Desiderium-Carisma Runic Array. And if the problem with this list is any indication… this could only give him something good."
Pouting and turned away playfully, she huffed, "oh… I thought it was something else…"
Rolling his eyes as he swiftly got up and picked her up bridal style, giving her a peck on the lips, "Oh there's something else as well… something we could do right now…" he whispered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Really?" she breathed as she ran her hands over his chest, increasing the size of her already amazing bust.
"Really Really…" he replied, walking them to their bedroom, "Mrs. Flamel."
May 2, 1998 - Hogwarts Grounds, Scotland
Harry stared impassively down at the limp form of Voldemort. Or as he openly mocked him during this last fight, Mr. Flight, his shadow running over the now dead wizard's body.
He defeated the bane of his existence, the man who chased him relentlessly for the past seven years.
He avenged his parents, who Voldemort set on a slow death, wanting them to feel the pain of losing their son. Only for them to die because the people who could have responded weren't able to help due to the Fidelius Wards.
His godfather, who died because he dodged Bellatrix's stunner, only to trip over the steps by the Veil of Death.
His surrogate grandfather, who died, not because of Draco Malfoy's retarded-looking… vomit-green Avada Kedavra, but from the drop that he received due to his jump backwards at his surprise, making him go over the ledge.
That one hot crimson-haired lady that moved in across the street from Grimmauld Place who he wasn't able to chat up because of this ridiculous war.
Harry swallowed thickly, the saliva seemingly increasing exponentially as he tried to settle any unrest he felt.
He glanced around, moving his eyes and tilting his head slightly, catching the still fighting people around him.
'Why aren't they doing anything different?' he asked himself. He'd just offed the dark wanker, and no one pays attention. He frowned, clenching the Elder Wand tighter, remembering the treatment that he'd received from the 'Magicals' during his stay in their world.
'Next thing you know… I'll be labeled a liar, saying that I took some bastard pureblood's fame away because they were the ones who killed him.'
Shaking his head to shake those thoughts out of his mind, hoping to stem his anger before he started, he continued his introspection, deciding to ignore the wizards that were milling about around him, throwing curses at each other.
'Why am I not feeling better? Why am I not happy about this?'
He just made sure his godson would grow up in a world where the threat of a Dark Lord wasn't hovering over him like a hawk would do to a rabbit. He tried to smile at that thought.
And tried…
But nothing came. His face was imperturbable.
So he was immediately worried, because he'd never had good control over his emotions.
He tried moving his hands to check his face, only to find that they suddenly stopped halfway to his face.
'What's going on?' Harry asked himself, his worry increasing.
Was this a plan of Voldemort's?
This wasn't in any of the memories that he'd been able to siphon from 'Flight,' obtained from the magical shard and soul that were latched onto his forehead.
'Until my 'premature' death, anyway.' He corrected, before setting himself back on his path of worrying.
Looking around with his still unobstructed eyeballs, he took note of the fact that everyone else had stopped moving as well.
'What is going on?' he yelled mentally, tired of being so still. It wasn't good to be so still either, doing so could have some dire ramifications, especially in a warzone.
Even more so if the wizards and witches that were throwing spells about didn't know the first thing about aiming…
Suddenly, a Shadow descended upon him at the same time that a wave of cold passed through him, causing him to let loose a scream of terror through his slightly parted lips at his inability to act at the seemingly familiar threat.
'Hopefully this isn't a Dementor… It'd really suck to be offed just like that.' He moaned, rolling his eyes, hoping that this wasn't a Dementor, 'Oh please… don't let it be a Dementor!' he prayed, casting his eyes skyward, hoping against all reason that he was just dreaming about this.
He'd rather duel Riddle again than die to a Dementor's kiss. Dying by way of Voldemort would mean he'd go to the afterlife… a Dementor would just eat his soul.
"You'll be glad to know, then. That I'm no dementor, Harry James Potter." A deep and ethereal voice spoke out above him, silhouetted by the sun that shone down on them.
"What?" Harry asked out loud, startled, before realizing that he could move again. "Who are you?" he demanded, pointing the Elder Wand at the figure that was still hard to see.
"Oh, Harry." The figure chuckled, descending even lower, causing Harry to drop to his knees at the sight of the person in front of him.
"It can't be…" Harry muttered, sitting on his heels and letting the Elder Wand clatter out of his hand.
"Oh yes, Harry." The figure retorted, getting up from the seat of his silver 800 Switchback Assault 144 Polaris Snowmobile – Flying Edition. (released a full, somewhat... okay definitely, fourteen years early)
"But… but… no!" Harry protested, staring at the heavily bearded old man in front of him.
"I'm about ninety-nine percent sure that I am myself, Harry." The wizened man replied as he stretched, the fluffy cloak he was wearing billowing in a non-existent wind, "I'm sure that you know you're Harry, yes?" he asked the teenaged boy in front of him.
"Well, yes. But-!" He tried to forge ahead, his mind unable to twist around the fact that he was in the presence of this person, only to be cut off once again.
"What is it?" the man asked, irritated, starting to get annoyed by the boy's reluctance to accept his identity.
"Merlin!" the boy muttered, not noticing the twitch of an eyebrow from the man before him, before his eyes lit up and he exclaimed, "You're Merlin!" Only to get smacked with the back of the man's hand, upside the head by the old man in front of him, "OW! What the hell was that for!" he demanded, clutching his hand to his newest 'injury,' only to quail under the sight of Elder's countenance.
The man stared frostily at the boy who was holding his head from the pain inflicted from his backhand. "I'm not Merlin, boy. Do you see me wearing that ridiculous light blue robe with stars on it?" he growled, causing Harry to shake his head rapidly in the negative. "Now, take in my looks." He ordered, making sure the boy did as he was told.
"But that's impossible!" Harry yelled out, the pain from the smack to the head subsiding, "There's no way!"
"And Merlin himself coming to talk to you is less impossible?" the man asked, his anger flaring, causing his red robe and cloak, edged in fluffy white, to billow out around him in his anger. His hair following the same path, the white beard lifting off of his chest a bit, revealing that he was a lot more rotund than he had first looked.
The words finally hitting home, Harry asked the red-clad man timidly, "Santa?"
"Che…" the now identified St. Nicolas scoffed, "Who else would it be?" he asked rhetorically, striking a heroic-looking pose and upon seeing Harry attempt to answer, he quickly amended, "Don't answer that."
Attempting to put most of his questions behind him, in order to ask the most important one, Harry got up, picking up the Elder Wand and holstering it in a wrist-holster on his right arm. "Why are you here?"
"Why… to give you your present of course." He replied nonchalantly, giving harry a thumbs up and an extremely bright smile that came close blinding Harry.
"What do you me-" Harry began before he caught himself, making Santa nod in satisfaction, "Right… Santa. Presents…" he trailed off, before he came to a conclusion, "But. It's May. The Second of, Nineteen-ninety-eight."
"Don't you think I know that?" Santa rolled his eyes, clenching his fists in visible consternation.
Cowed, Harry held up his hands in an attempt to stave off pain as he apologized, "Ahh… yeah. Sorry."
"What's wrong with you, Harry." Santa questioned, peering at him over a pair of half-moon glasses that suddenly appeared over his nose, making him look quite close to another heavily bearded individual that was quite close to Harry. "You're quite slow today."
Scratching his cheek and looking to the side at the suddenly familiar face gazing at him, Harry chuckled nervously, "Sorry. Just kind of overwhelmed at the moment. Give me a few minutes and I'll be right as rain."
"Well, in any case, I'm here to give you your present. You've been a good boy all of these years, you know? I have fifteen years of presents that I haven't been able to give you."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"You see, Harry," he began, "I've only ever been able to give you one present…" he trailed off, before pulling out a pair of slightly worn stuffed animals, a stag and a doe, and handing them to Harry, who unconsciously shrank them and placed them in his pockets, "To be honest, I've had trouble finding you, you know?"
"Really?"
"It bugged me so much, to be honest. No matter what I tried, I couldn't track you or find you. Then," he shrugged, "all of a sudden, almost an hour ago… in their time," he stated, pointing at the still frozen people that were around them, "My sensors finally picked you up, and the only child that was on the good list, but hadn't received his presents…" he continued, walking toward Harry, "Will receive them, and I won't be bothered by the anomaly anymore." He finished, placing his hands on the teen's shoulders.
"W-what? What do you mean anomaly?" Harry demanded, his eyes narrowing at Nicolas. He'd outgrown his childish wishes for 'normality,' a while back… but he just didn't want weird stuff happening without a warning or explanation.
Santa merely smiled a sad smile, "You see, Harry… I have the power to do practically anything… in relation to the gifts and wishes of children who believe in me, or are so inherently good that they deserve them despite their lack of belief in me. Whose wishes could be changed… before they receive them."
"But I didn't…" Harry protested, before he was stopped by the bearded man's hand.
"True. But I haven't finished explaining. At younger ages, those gifts would be granted at the time of delivery. And, usually… when a two year old wishes for something… it'll usually be quite simple."
The Raven-haired boy gulped in nervousness, before he whispered, "But it isn't, is it?"
The giver of presents nodded sagely, "But you see, if I was able to reach you… I would have been able to do something for you at that time. But, like I said… something kept me from finding you… and at this point, I don't care, because this has been a long time coming." He paused, giving the younger man a wink, "Besides, the Missus and I are going to celebrate after this… But moving on. You see, the longer an unfulfilled wish goes… the more power it gains, not from me or you, but from Magic itself. And with the length of time that has passed since you were two…"
Shocked, the green-eyed teen could only mutter, "Fifteen years' worth…"
"Normally, the magic would be set upon its own course, taking care of the wish by itself. Usually with my help if it has problems, but due to it not being able to find an outlet… the magic has become easier to direct." He explained, fishing out a golden wishbone and handing it to Harry.
Calculating what that could actually mean for him, Harry stared intently at Santa, "I can set the parameters of the wish?"
"Yes. It'll happen as soon as you make the wish and break that wishbone. As soon as you do, I'll pull down the time-field and the Magic shall do its work. This has never happened before in my life… so I'm going to have to say that this… would be quite a unique experience."
Harry grumbled at his words, "Great… another thing that's unique."
Santa merely shook his head, before flicking the boy on the forehead with his finger, "Being unique is quite a gift, Harry. Embrace it. Better yet, try to live a life that is static, 'normal,' and you'll see that you don't want to live that kind of life. Not after the life you've lived." He offered, trying to help the teen along some.
"I know," Harry groused, rubbing his forehead with his palm in an attempt to alleviate the stinging sensation, "I figured that out long ago. Just habits and information overload." He remarked, looking between the man before him, and the bone.
"Come now, Nicolas." A voice called out, as a portal appeared beside them and a woman in a red dress stepped out and latched onto his arm. "Stop going around in circles, and just tell him."
"Fine, fine, my lovely Perenelle." Nicolas stated, before he turned to the now narrowed eyes of Harry Potter, "Forgive me, Harry Potter. I haven't been completely honest with you." he stated, before giving a small shrug, "to be honest, I kind of wanted some payback for the amount of time you've had me work over this problem relating to the anomaly related to you and your wishes."
"So, who are you?" Harry questioned, "I remember hearing your names somewhere before…" he trailed off, before adding, "That is, if your names are what they really are."
Nodding, Nicolas stated, "My name was Nikolai Klaus. Born at 927 at the Magical Kingdom of Morthassia. After tales of my gift-giving appeared, I was named Saint Nicolas, or Santa Claus as you now know. My wife, Perenelle," he gestured at the lady hanging on his arm, "Born at 1333 in the Magical Community of Largess… my wife of over four hundred years." He smiled softly at his wife, before he turned to Harry, "And, as she was of 'Nobler Blood…' I took her last name when we married, making us Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel."
Stunned and a tiny bit skeptical, Harry raised an eyebrow at that proclamation and immediately spoke his mind, "Albus said-" only to be cut off.
"Bah, Albus said." Perenelle interrupted with a huff, "He said a lot of things. Didn't necessarily mean that he followed through with them."
"What do you mean?"
Nicolas answered, "That stone… did he give it to you?"
"The resurrection stone? Yah, he did."
"No, boy, the Philosopher's stone."
"No, but I don't know what that has to do with anything."
"You see…" he sighed, rubbing both sides of his forehead with his hands, "That Philospher's Stone… was supposed to be handed to you. It wasn't an actual Philospher's Stone. It was a way for us to send the Magic of your Wish-Gift to you. To do with it, as you saw fit. But… it is now apparent that he had a different plan."
"Dumbledore? No! Impossible! That can't be right."
"Oh, but it is right… you see, Harry… you're ignoring my words. He didn't give you the container… the stone. When it smashed, the energy was absorbed by the shade you were fighting."
"What!"
"It's the only reason Voldemort survived past 1991." He explained matter-of-factly, his face set in a stony countenance. "To be honest. That horcrux Ritual can indeed be cast multiple times, but the only one that works… would be the latest one. I repeat. Only the Latest Horcurx works. The only reason he survived was through the amount of magical Energy present in your wish."
"So you're saying that… nobody would have died at all?"he asked, stunned, "None of this!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out, gesturing at the carnage that was frozen around them, "Would have been that way?"
"Yes. Now, if you're going to interrupt me about the Horcrux that existed in your head… the magic was already demolishing the connection between you and him. He died again, making the horcrux that existed in your head obsolete. And he knew it. That's why he was burning when you touched him."
"But my mother's love?" Harry whispered.
Perenelle interjected, shaking her head, "Yes… she granted you some protection, but with the shard of Voldemort in your head… that protection was not really viable. The reason he was burning was because it was a physical manifestation of that connection being broken."
"No way…" he muttered, shaking his head in the negative.
"Yes way." Nicolas grinned, "With the bond being partially there, and him leeching onto the magic…"
"He maintained the connection, didn't he?"
"Smart. Yes, he did. The whole bit, where he went past you? The magic itself tried to go inside you, but he was already part of it…"
"So… he accidentally made another horcrux… or something like it."
"Yeah. The only reason he was able to do that was."
"Because the power of your wish. With the connection there, however faint it was… he was able to use a small part of the wish to do what he wanted, not knowing exactly what he did. Most likely, he just didn't want to die. It's just a good thing that he never figured out exactly what happened, nor what he had in his possession." Perenelle interjected once again.
Thinking back, Harry could indeed see those things happening, but he thought of something that would make or break his belief in this new theory, "But what about the pains? My scar? If the Horcrux wouldn't work, then why did he affect me so?"
"I didn't say that it wouldn't work, but you see…"
"He wished that his Horcruxes would work… thereby, making all of them active. You see, Harry, while it is indeed true that only the Horcrux created at the latest time would work… when he died from the rebounding Avada Kedavra, which your mother caused due to her love for you, some of his own magic was implanted into you, and he created a horcrux for you, due to the fact that 'part of you,' " she said, making quotation marks with her fingers, "Wanted your horcruxes to work, and enough of the magic must have deemed that you didn't have one..."
"So, his imprint of magic was the reason I could speak parseltongue? That's why… "
"Yes. And the pain was from the magical shard attempting to rejoin it's master."
"Not only that… but that's the only reason you survived your venture in the Chamber of Secrets, as well as what made you more susceptible to Dementors."
"Wait.. so I should've died?" he asked slowly, not wanting to believe it, only to receive nods in response to his question. Shaking his head ruefully, he continued, "So, getting past that… if that's truly what happened, then does that mean that during fourth year onwards…" Harry quieted, worried at the implications.
"Correct. The reason that the pains you received after fourth year are greater… was because of the fact that when magicals' emotions are heightened, and depending on how strong the emotion is, their magic tends to build itself up and attempt to merge with the rest of the magic. The effect increases the older a person is. So yes, your magic, knowing that Voldemort held magic that was bound to you, that was destined for you… tried to, for lack of a better term, leech it out of your scar, and vice versa… provided that he was experiencing extreme, note the extreme, emotions. Because technically… he was running on your magic. So when he was experiencing extreme emotion, the magic would attempt to reattach itself to its intended source and destination. I don't know why it wouldn't do that unless he was experiencing heightened emotions, but I've been alive for a half millennium at least, Nicolas for one himself, and we still haven't figured out why magic is and does and why."
Harry chuckled mirthlessly, shoulders slumping in resignation. "So that means… that the whole situation… would never have been so bad… if Dumbledore never interfered?"
"Sad to say, Harry… but you are completely right." Nicolas ceded, taking off his red hat and fiddling with the white edges.
"But wait… does that mean that Voldemort was in pain? I mean… I felt strongly about loads of stuff all the time…"
"We don't know at this point… we can only speculate." Perenelle answered, shrugging. "He may very well have been in pain constantly. I do remember how high emotions can run when your teens and I can guess that he was."
Harry chuckled at her answer and suddenly stopped. Something struck Harry that might debunk this whole idea that had wormed it's way inside his mind. "One second though, I died. I saw Dumbledore. I saw the Horcrux!" At his exclamation, both Nicolas and Perenelle laughed loudly, causing him to frown at their reaction.
"Yes, you died. Yes, it was a Horcrux."
"But-!" he protested their reactions, scratching his head in confusion.
"But, no! If there were three things that Dumbledore truly was a master of… they were transfiguration, legilimency and manipulating people."
"I'd have to agree with Perenelle there. Based upon how you've lived, which of course, he orchestrated…"
"Yeah… he told me himself. But still, he…" Harry protested.
"Loved you like a grandchild?" Nicolas finished, Harry agreeing, "He may have, but despite his 'love for you,' he truly is manipulative, able to implant a 'scenario,' if you will inside your mind. Chances are, you never really died, considering the fact that not only are you the master of death… but it's impossible to Avada Kedavra yourself. He'd put the good of the many before the good of one. Too bad he wasn't in the position to offer himself."
Stumped, Harry stared blankly at Nicolas, turning to Perenelle for support, "I'd have to agree. Even though he was a different person, Riddle Jr. was using your magic. The only reason that he was able to do what he did with your magic was the fact that he'd unintentionally created a Horcrux for you during that debacle in that graveyard. The only reason that he was able to use such magic was the fact that he contained a tiny shard of your soul, reinforced during that fight in the Ministry."
Harry's mouth dropped at the added information, "WHAT THE HELL!"
"His possession of you really did a number on him. But with the unexpected addition of another tiny shard of your soul, which wasn't another 'horcrux,' but just increased the size of the one he already had in his possession, the magic became more… accessible to him. But with another shard of your soul inside of him…"
Harry finished, understanding the situation, "The pains were larger past fifth year."
"But we're getting side-tracked…" Nicolas continued, "That Horcrux… that you said you saw, the one that Dumbledore showed you… it was yours."
Shocked, remembering the piece of crap that was there in his memory, Harry could only squeak out, "Mine?"
"No worries though, Harry." Perenelle answered, "Once you became the master of death… once you were 'taken out,' there must have been some sort of latchkey or something that would make that vision of Dumbledore appear in a vision or something. Anyways, since you were 'killed,' your soul proceeded to re-solidify itself, as is the process that happens when someone dies. Which is why the Horcruxes only work once. They are created from killing another's soul, splitting it then merging that shard with their own then finally splitting it and shoving it somewhere. And, like I said. the reason that he had so many,"
"I get it, my wish…" Harry breathed out, slouching as he sat on the ground. Looking up at them, he asked, "So, what now?"
Nicolas and Perenelle looked at each other and back to him, "Well, you could use it… which I suggest, mainly in the interest of finding out exactly what happens in regards to it."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head at Nicolas' attitude, before something struck him and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "What is it, Harry?" Perenelle asked, wondering exactly what he was thinking about.
"Before anything… I want to know about you…" he said, looking at them. "I mean, from what I gathered… you really were an alchemist and his wife, correct. But if you were… how did you find out about all of this stuff? Why do you guys sound different from everyone else? If it's a spell, can I learn it? Do you have any idea what being the Master of Death entails?"
Perenelle laughed, "I think Nicolas should tell it. It's an… interesting tale. Besides, it would help set straight most if any questions that you might want to ask us once you go over our conversation."
Nodding, Nicolas began, "Well… to be honest, I'd have to say, this whole thing is partially my fault. You see, Harry, Perenelle and I did die."
"Huh? I thought that…" Harry muttered, his mind going in circles at the admission.
"Magic itself decided that what we were doing… giving gifts and wishes to those who were pure and in need… was a good thing. Thereby, at our times of death… Magic represented itself as an ethereal ball of light that showered the area in colorful light. It told us more through images and feelings and lights that it wished for us to continue our job of handing out presents to children. But most of all, it wanted us to keep a closer eye on you. Bewildered… we discussed this for a total of an... hmm… hour?"
"Two hours."
"Yes, two hours. We accepted. And, well… we got magic shoved in our bodies like nobody's business. So you see… that's why we get these cool echoes and reverbs and stuff when we speak." He finished happily.
A question that Harry had put off for a while emerged from his lips, "What's with the snowmobile?"
"Why not?" Nicolas retorted, raising an eyebrow at the raven-haired child. "I'd rather have a flying snowmobile with bottomless compartment rather than use a reindeer-pulled sleigh."
"Right…" Harry nodded, his chin resting on the end of his hand as he thought it over, "I get what you mean… but how am I able to speak with you like this?"
"In reality…" Perenelle answered, "We're speaking to each other in our own native languages… the only difference is, that you're hearing us speak in a more modern way. While we hear you speak in a dialect closer to our own. In other words… Magic."
Harry sighed at the answer before chuckling, "Heh… Magic." He snorted, before bursting out into full-blown laughter, quickly followed by Nicolas and Perenelle. After a few minutes of that, Harry wiped a tear from his eyes, "So…" he started, "what's next?" he asked, gesturing at the still frozen scene around them.
"Well…" Nicolas drawled out, taking a look at the frozen scene, "I don't know about you. But I've waited for fifteen years for this wish to be granted."
"The same for me." Perenelle intoned, smiling as she latched onto her husband's arm. Both of them looking quite young, with the only discernable way to figure out their age being their pure, snow-white hair. As well as the length of her hair and Nicolas' beard.
Thinking deeply, Harry concentrated on the ground in front of him, trying to remember exactly what he wanted back then using the occlumency that he still had occasional problems with. He delved through the memories that he'd hidden away, not wanting to relive the experiences he'd gone through at the Dursleys. And then it came to him… Family. Not just any family. But his own. One that would treat him well and love him, and he would do the same to them. "Family." He whispered, looking up at them. "I wanted to be with a loving family." He repeated, swallowing to relieve the tension that built up in his throat.
"Is that it?" Perenelle whispered, smiling at him, "You have many other parameters to set, you know?"
Nicolas agreed, pulling her in front of him and hugging her from behind, "You have so many others to set. The way that your wish ended up… instead of receiving multiple wishes per year like everyone else would. They were held back and merged with the main one. Mainly because of the fact that you had a 'dark soul' in your forehead. One that prevented it from seeking you out. Paradox, I know. Being on both lists… but hey. You get to make an addendum for your wish. One per year since then."
Harry smiled ruefully, looking back at the pair in front of him, sharing something that he wished he could one day have. 'I guess I have another one that I can add right off the bat.'
"You really like just adding stuff for me, don't you?" Harry asked, "Every time I think I have it all figured out, you just dump another one on me."
"Excuse Nicolas here, Harry. Like he said, he's been waiting and he can't help but to mess around a bit now that the moment is close." Perenelle apologized for her husband, clasping her hands over his.
"It's fine." Harry answered, smiling at them as he began his wish, taking the wishbone and breaking it, causing a floating orb of light to appear, floating in front of him.
"I wish I had a family."
He began, looking at the sky, the only thing clear that he could focus on. Meanwhile, the sphere started orbiting him, leaving streams of colorful lights in the air.
"That they loved me and that I could love them."
He continued, starting to tear up as he thought about all of the things that he wanted, still oblivious the growing number of lights and glowing ribbons surrounding him.
"That we would respect and care for each other."
His voice cracked, as the Magic inherent in his wish started glowing, pulsing with untold power.
"That I had siblings… even if it's just one. I don't care if it's a girl or boy…"
He went on, smiling through his tears, still staring at the sky as the magic started revolving around him, starting up a miniature tornado.
"I don't know my parents. And I never really knew them… so I wish I could meet them."
He paused, feeling the Magic swirl around him, ruffling his clothes and his hair.
"I…"
He choked, opening his eyes and looked straight at the pair who stood in front of him, who stood resolute in the storm that was created from the Magic present, smiling encouragingly at him.
"I wish that… I had parents… just like you two."
He whispered, causing both Perenelle and Nicolas to tear up at his admission. They themselves had wanted children for ages… but were never able to. Immortality had a price, after all. Even now, as much as they could gift and give to people... they couldn't have any at all.
"That they would love each other… and never leave me, my siblings or each other."
He gulped once again, smiling through his tears as he looked at the couple who stood before him.
"I wish that I could find love."
He added soon after thinking about that last wish some more.
"But that I would have to work on it myself if I really wanted it."
The Flamels smiled at his addition, the boy really was a good one, truly deserving of the wish he was finally receiving.
"That it would be possible for me to have a large family."
He sustained, trying to think of more things to add. Before suddenly smiling at an Idea that came into his head.
"That I wasn't the ruddy boy-who-lived."
Nicolas and Perenelle laughed at that last one, knowing how hard his life was.
"That… that…"
He paused, his eyebrows knitting themselves together in concentration as the removed his glasses, which were obstructing his view.
"That I don't need to use corrective eyewear."
He chuckled, deciding to be clear on that one.
"That horcruxes only work the way that they're supposed to."
He added, wanting to add something that was important, maybe not to him, but to others. Making sure that what Voldemort did couldn't be done again.
"I wa-"
He began, before the Magic started pulsing faster, expanding and then contracting. Making a light-show that could probably never be replicated again.
"What's going on? I had one more right?"
He asked worriedly, looking once again at the Flamels.
"I think that it may have counted Voldemort's wish from your first year."
"He did use that one, to make sure that his horcruxes worked." Perenelle answered, "Don't worry, it was only one less wish, Harry. I'm sure you've gotten all of the ones you really wanted, correct?"
He merely nodded at her question, only to be told by Nicolas, "No matter, though. It seems like you've gotten it in hand."
"What do you mean?" he asked, before he received a pointing finger from Nicolas, indicating the Magic revolving around him, cocooning him in its multicolored embrace.
"You're getting your wish, Harry." He nodded promptly.
"Or in this case, wishes." She replied cheekily.
"But I don't want to leave yet… I still want to talk to you!" Harry screamed, trying to find some way to halt the process. "I have so much to ask! I don't want to go yet! I don't want to say…" he shouted, reaching for them from within the vortex.
"Good-bye, Harry." Perenelle whispered, sniffling and wiping away her tears with a conjured Handkerchief while Nicolas rubbed his face with his long sleeve. "I wish I had a son just like you."
Embracing his wife closer to him, Nicolas whispered, "I do too." Before they vanished in a burst of rainbow light, the forgotten snowmobile disintegrating into a bunch of snowflake shapes as the stasis field dropped, the battle continuing.
It was only when the battle was winding down that someone noticed the downed form of Voldemort and the disappearance of their savior.
That evening, wizards and witches all over Britan as well as the rest of the Magical world, raised their glasses up and toasted to Harry Potter, the Man-who-Conquered.
- Prologue: End -
- Post-Chapter Author's Note: -
Something that wouldn't stop bothering me. I was going to go and make it all simple. In other words, a one-shot. But once I was halfway through it, I found that I have to perfect foundation for a story that is now brewing in my head. It's funny because I was planning a different type of story when I sat down and started typing this out, but it took a life of its own.
For those who are reading both my stories and question my use of Santa, or Santa lookalikes in my stories…
"Why the hell not?"
Not only can I think of some of the most ridiculous shit, but I can elaborate it, thereby making my term paper an A.
Wait a sec…
Actually, yeah. I Elaborate and Elaborate until the BS takes a life of its own, *cue wink* and then it seems like a completely plausible idea that sounds like it's based in 'fact.' Where in fact, it was born from a half-assed minute or two of sitting down and trying to find something to add to my story.
It's how my stories start out anyways. Loads of them I won't post, mainly because I have standards and some of them are too ridiculous or I may end up having to write whole stories out of them.
Just Kidding.(Umm... Kind of?)
Anyways, I'm trying to get my muse to sit with me and write my main story, but I've ended up starting a Harry Potter story, one that I've been thinking about for most of the break. Loads of situations, and I don't even know if I'm going to add half of them.
For those confused about the conversation about Voldie and the Horcuxes in this chapter? (LOL, a band called: Voldie and the Horcruxes)
Here it is in easier terms:
1. The Prologue universe, is pretty much Canon. One difference, if not the biggest is the presence of Super!Claus Flamel.
2. Harry is a good boy. Always has, most probably always will be.
3. Voldemort in forehead makes Harry both a Good and Bad Boy. So he appears on both the good and bad list of Super!Claus.
4. Voldemort vamps on Harry's magic through the link in the scar throughout his life. Which is a horcrux until the end of the first year, when He killed Quirrel. When Voldie passed through Harry, he took the soul shard that was there, but left a connection, siphoning his magic to use as his own.
5. The philosopher's stone was actually not one. It was the accumulation of fifteen years' worth of magic-wish for Harry in condensed physical form.
6. Only the most recently created Horcrux works if person has more than one. Older ones are rendered obsolete. They're cut off from the person who created them. They, however take on a life of their own. The only viable horcrux should have been the one in Harry's head.
7. HOWEVER: Voldie absorbed some of the magic from the 'stone,' and accessed it through his connection with Harry, who was the only one who should have gotten it. The desire for his horcruxes to work as he envisioned them caused them to actually work, taking up one of the wishes contained in the stone. Therefore the super!bad stuff happening past fourth year.
8. Meaning: if Dumbledore wasn't such a dickhead (at least in that dimension), then Voldie would never have come back.
9. Voldemort would not have been able to cast much magic as he was using Harry's all along through the scar. It's why Harry was a dick in 5th-year onwards. The siphoning of his magic left him irritable and angsty. If this means that Harry is like a magical version of Naruto (in relation to the amount of energy they have and use), then so be it.
They may be out of a specific order, but they do the job. I will most likely elaborate on these, especially if people ask for it. If enough ask, I may end up answering them at the end of chapters instead of in them.
Now that I think of it, it would have been more awesome to write that the mirror was sent to the school by the Flamels, containing their stone. And Dumbledore couldn't get it out himself. Think about it :P I so could have used this idea... *pouts*
Any questions and/or Concerns, please leave a review... or a p.m.
Especially about inconsistencies... Those suck, and I'll do my best to clear them up as soon as possible.
Anyways, thanks for reading.
Until next time,
Margulide
