Laus Saint Julius
Summary: A.K.A how Harry was adopted and raised by a squib, and take the Wizarding World by storm. Follow his story as he entered Hogwarts as one Henry Julius Prewett, the power of smiles shall prevail! The fun has just started!
A/N: This little thing has been stuck in my hard drive for ages, but I only have one chapter done before I completely forgot about it. As you can see, this is an AU which will diverge from canon, starting with a small difference. See the end of the chapter for more notes.
Disclaimer: Guess what? This is a non-profit, fan-made parody. I would never be Rowling no matter how hard I tried to dye my hairs blonde. Even so, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I write it. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows, yummy!
Chapter 1: Just Another Wednesday
"Mr. Henry J. Prewett.
Second Bedroom,
5 Herons Rest,
Riverside,
Staines Upon Thames."
Henry 'Harry' Julius Prewett looked at the letter his mother had just recently picked up from the mailbox. Judging from the cobwebs on its surface, it has been sitting around the mostly unchecked mailbox for quite some time.
His mother had made it clear that she is just not the type to check the mail regularly, she found the task to be rather troublesome. Besides, what is the point of emptying the mailbox when it will be full again sometime in the nearby future?
"A boarding school for wizards, huh? I always knew you have it in you, your grandfather would be proud!" Said his mother cheerfully, unable to contain her excitement. She pulled Harry to a hug, much to the annoyance of her husband whose presence has been mostly ignored up until now.
The issues that Harry is a wizard didn't come as a surprise to the family, his father has explained everything to his mother on his first accidental magic that caused his hairs to turn all red and he couldn't change it back to the way how it was supposed to be before.
"Have any of you seen my shoes? I couldn't find them anywhere." Asked the bespectacled man with messy red hairs, years working tirelessly in the front of a computer screen certainly didn't do wonder to his eyesight. He changed his job frequently, but most of them still put some strains on his eyes.
"Why don't you just take a day off and spend the rest of the day with your family for once? I'm sure you'll die of overworking one of those days."
The blonde beauty has been in a delightful mood after learning the fact that magic did indeed exist, and it seemed like nothing could change that at this moment. Her father was a performing street magician who could make any sort of thing vanish after all, but her husband keeps insisting him to be a con artist with an unhealthy fondness for using cheap tricks.
Whatever the old man actually is, Harry still viewed him as his inspiration and respected him dearly. It was him who brought Harry from the orphanage and placed him in the care of his current parents.
There were nothing wrong with the orphanage, the matron is nice and she often told him he is special, but he simply couldn't call the place home for one reason or another.
Especially if it was in the middle of nowhere managed by a creepy matron with a crackling laugh who somehow managed to remove his 'possessed' scar using a method that hurts him a lot. Harry decided to forget about that and shifted his focus back to the present where his father is arguing with his mother again.
"Is that letter... the one I'm thinking about?"
"The one you never receives when you're younger? Yes, what about it? Didn't expect it to be delivered to one of our children instead?"
"You never received it either, I guess we're even in this one. Listen well, Harry. Whatever you do, remember everything I told you about wizards. It might save you from dangers there, or not."
Harry nodded and reminded himself of what his father said about the Wizarding World, that wizards are stupid and everything is still trapped somewhere in the mixture between the Middle Ages and the Victorian Era. His father's explanation only made the place more gloomy and daunting, but it only served to motivate him further to enlighten it.
Magic should only be used to entertain people and make them smile, not to hurt them and threaten their lives. His grandfather had pointed him how the world would be a wonderful place if everyone heart is connected to each other and understanding could be made. It was a hard concept to grasp for a child of Harry's age, but the main point is that smiles brought the best of people.
"I promised my old man to change the world one day, maybe I should start with the Wizarding World. It's smaller than the world we lived in, right?"
"The world is already a small place, dear. A small place with a lot of possibilities, but I believe you could do everything as long as you tried. Nothing is impossible, do keep it in mind."
"Thanks, mum, you're the best mum ever!"
It was a known fact that Harry is pretty good in making people see the light. Smiling is the cure to everything, even a war-torn world could use some laughter to fix things other couldn't do. Other than that, he seriously thinks his father has an issue against wizards in general, the older man's mood always went sour whenever magic is brought into the conversation.
"Look at what spending too much time with your grandfather did to you, good luck with that, son. At least you're not always chasing after me like your sister. You should tell your daughter to stop bothering me, Leticia. The missing shoes are clearly her fault."
It was clear from his tone and choice of words that his father is upset, Harry doesn't need to be told to be silent to understand what to do in this situation. Things always ended with his parents snogging after they were done arguing, he only needs to close his eyes when that time come. His parents have a strange way of expressing their love, that is by arguing over an everyday thing.
"Excuse me? Mafalda is our daughter, you are also responsible for anything she does. Speaking of our daughter, why hasn't she awake yet?"
"She was up all night doing girls stuff, I believe."
Harry wasn't quite sure if hiding all of the shoes in the house and some important-looking documents related to her father's work could be considered a girl things, girls are just weird and all of that. He wouldn't understand how their thought process worked, his sister is a fine example of how complex one of those girls could be.
"I know I promised our daughter to play with her just for today, but I suddenly remember I have this important presentation to do. I asked my mother to come over so she could have someone else to play with instead."
"That's too bad, you know? I was certain that someone wouldn't have to sleep on the couch for breaking his promise again. Don't mind us, Harry, go and wake your little sister up."
His common sense warned him to not go against his mother's order and do what he was told to do. Doing something to displease his mother when she is dead serious is a big flat no, especially if all hint of warmth left her voice and her eyes is a blaze of red. For most people, it's one of those days where the sun went hiding and the birds dared not to chirp, but to Harry, it's just another Wednesday.
"Right, it's just another Wednesday. What else could go wrong?"
"Maf, are you awake yet? Mum and dad are at it again."
He opened the door leading to his sister's bedroom when said sister didn't respond to his knocking and faced the sleeping form of one Mafalda Prewett, the Prewett's signature red hairs clashing with the bluish bed cover. She looked so peaceful for that moment, causing Harry to feel guilty to disturb her from her slumber.
Harry had learned the hard way that waking his sleeping sister is like waking a hungry tiger, the girl always throws a fit whenever someone interrupted everything she is doing, and Harry still didn't develop any resistance to her tantrum. And so, he decided to just wait and hope until the girl wake up on her own.
When her sleepy scarlet gaze met Harry's green, he knew something bad is going to happen to him sooner. His reflex kicked in and he stepped back before the girl could pounce on him in an alarming speed.
"What are you doing on your little sister's room? Pervert! Do you like watching me sleeping in my pajamas that much?"
"I just went here, I don't even notice your PJ's are unbuttoned until you were awake." Harry picked up his words carefully, not wanting to cause any more trouble. It worked, somehow. The wide smile framing his sister's face is the proof of that.
Even so, the sheer feeling of wrongness emitted from the smile didn't make Harry's feeling at ease. There is just something about that smile causing him to tread the conversation carefully, he didn't want to give his beloved sister another reason to be mad at him.
"Alright, then. Since I'm in a good mood today, I will let it pass. Do you know what day today is?"
"It's just Wednesday, what about it?"
"Think again, you're better than that." Her devious smile turned into a grin at that statement, Harry doesn't like the look of that.
"The day our grandmother visited us?"
"I grow tired of this, wrong answer. Today is supposed to be your eleventh birthday! That's why I did all the necessary preparations to make sure father will play with us just for today."
"About that..."
"You can't tell me anything would go wrong, I'm smarter than any of you!"
Harry wouldn't deny that because he couldn't. His sister corrected a teacher the other day because what the teacher said is wrong and he doesn't know or just embarrassed to admit it. As for Harry himself, he wasn't sure if being able to use magic and a few tricks could make him considered smart for someone of his age.
A person either born talented or practiced hard to achieve the level of their expertise, and Harry falls into the criteria of the latter. So unlike his sister who was born a prodigy and loved to impress, Harry only showed his skills whenever it was needed. For example, on any of his friends' birthday or when someone is sad.
Meanwhile, Mafalda's grin subsided, replaced with a noticeable frown and her expression darkened. She really reminded Harry of her mother when she is looking like that, ready to petrify anyone unfortunate enough to saw her in that state.
"...It's not working, isn't it? Father is going to leave us again, isn't he?"
"Get dressed and be prepared, kids! We're going to a wonderful place!" An unmistakable feminine voice echoed from outside of the room, leaving the two silent for a little while.
"I told you, grandmother is visiting us."
"The crazy one or the funny one?"
"The funny one, our father's mother. Don't you want to meet a real witch and see what she can do?" This time, it was Harry's turn to grin. Knowing how well his little sister reacted with magic, she always has some interesting questions waiting to be answered.
Maybe she would finally leave him alone and go bother her grandmother with myriads of questions left unanswered, all about magic and how it works. Harry felt sorry for the woman, but it isn't her job to explain everything her son couldn't explain about magic?
"It's good to see you again, kids. I was under the impression that we will never meet again after the 'magic is a real ' fiasco. Your wife is surprisingly understanding, Tristan. I'm glad you married her instead of the other blonde, what's up with the Prewett family and their preferences to buxom blonde?"
Harry saw a familiar woman he instantly recognized as his grandmother talking with her only son. The graceful woman who only looked slightly older than his mother has her blonde hairs down and wear a perfectly normal everyday outfit consisted of a matching set of high-waisted jeans.
According to his father, the disguised witch has a great deal of experience, but so little forbearance regardless of how friendly she looked like. That means Harry should always listen to her whenever she made a point and only ask questions when it's necessary, something his sister failed to follow most of the time.
"Grandma Eria, are you really a witch? I thought witches doesn't go around wearing muggle clothes."
"I just happen to be very good at transfiguration, thank you. You should call me Wisteria or Eria instead, I'm not really that old... for a witch. Look at you there, girl! You won't become a proper lady if you still run around in your pajamas and underwear like that."
Mafalda looked a bit hurt at her grandmother's statement, Harry doesn't know what to made of this situation. His grandmother just actually make his sister listen to what someone else said and have the words sunk. He doesn't know if that is a good thing or not, the girl doesn't usually take any form of advice kindly.
"Oh, Harry? Can I have a word with you? You might be a wizard now, but things would not change. For example, I still looked like this because I smile a lot, it only has a little to do with magic. Magic is not a solution to everything, it's more like a tool."
"What made you so sure about me being a wizard? What make you think my accidental magic is not one of my muggle magic tricks?" Harry doesn't know what would this line of questioning would lead him into, but his curiosity got the best of him.
"Why, you ask? I met your girlfriend and her family in the Diagon Alley the other day, she was shopping for her Hogwarts supply. If she could be a witch, then you could be a wizard. Lovers stick together."
"Gross! You're just eleven and you're already dating a girl, Harry! What will our parents say about this?"
"Just who is this mysterious girlfriend you're talking about?"
As far as Harry is concerned, he never has that kind of relationship with any person. It's not like he is rejecting the affection of any girl who tried to approach him in that manner, but he is just not ready to be involved in something like that. If someone were to be that close to him to be considered a girlfriend, there is only one person to fit that criterion.
It's hard to imagine that person as a witch, though. The smartest and most logical person in his school is a witch? That sounded more unlikely than the possibility of her being his girlfriend and wife in the future.
"Have you realized? We're talking about that Granger girl. I knew her great-grandfather personally, she wasn't as Muggle as you thought. Her father is a Muggle Dark Lord, I believe. They called it a dentist. Tristan, say something! You have been awfully silent since your children come, at least talk to your kids!"
"Well, you see... Your grandmother has promised me to return my lost time, so I won't be going anywhere without you two. We're going to Diagon Alley, don't cause trouble and avoid unnecessary attention to yourself."
"How did I look like? Am I a witch now?" Harry's mother finally decided to show up after she somewhat disappeared from the scene not too long ago. Her current appearance was accompanied by a change of clothes, ditching the lazy young housewife look in favor to cosplay as a witch.
Harry recognized the silky aristocratic robe as the last years' Halloween costume, he and his sister have a variation of it with a different color scheme. His sister seemed to think the same but realized it sooner than Harry did. The adults have an entirely different reaction, though.
"What in the world, it's the real thing most wizards wear! Where did you get that robe, Leti?"
"Don't ask me, it's your fault you weren't there on the last Halloween when we play witch and wizard."
Witch and wizard, if Harry remembered correctly, is just some variations of hide-and-seek when someone becomes the Dark Lord and the other hide. The game is over when the Dark Lord found all of the people in hiding and the first person to be found were to be the next Dark Lord, and the cycle repeats.
The game is just yet another brilliant idea of his grandfather Julius, performagician extraordinaire. His grandmothers were also there, two of them. They were discussing something about various conspiracy theories Harry couldn't understand before the game start. The only person who wasn't there is his father and his father's father.
Of course, everyone present already knows the existence of magic by then. Julius and his wife had no trouble believing it because they performed the Muggle version of it on a daily basis, in order to make a living out of it.
Although their daughter has little interest in continuing the family's business, they believed their grandson would become the world's most renowned magician. Both in the muggle and wizarding world. Harry's ambition to change the world into a place full of smiles and laughter is a prove of that.
"You looked great in Slytherin colors, Leticia darling. See? Even your wife has a better fashion than you! I'm glad she is my daughter-in-law instead of some random muggle named Martha you were interested with before I knock some sense to your thick skull!"
"Martha isn't too bad, actually. We're best friends since Kindergarten. Her really strong believe in her faith scares me, though. She will probably think you sold your children souls to the devil if any of them could use magic."
"Why is everyone so afraid of magic even though it's a wonderful thing?"
It was Harry's time to shine this time, he couldn't let Mafalda ask all the questions! His grandmother is known to only answer a specific amount of questions in a day, and he doesn't want the opportunity to be wasted. His sister had wasted one on asking how muggle the ever smiling witch looked like, leaving only two more left to go.
"You will see, soon. What can I say about this? It still has something to do with magic being a tool. What is a knife to a cook and a murderer? They might use the same tool, but they have different intentions and people would remember the latter more. This is what I have to say for now."
"Enough! Let's get dressed. Put these on and we're good to go! I can't wait to fool everyone into thinking I am a magical princess!"
"You already looked like the witch of some tale, mum."
Harry's father muttered something about how he should marry Martha instead and get away from this mess. Spending weekends listening to the church's sermons is nothing compared to this insanity, but his musings were cut shortly when his mother flattened his foot when she 'accidentally' stepped on it.
"Are we done yet? Grab my hat! We're going in three, two, one..." The only experienced witch in the family has already transfigured her muggle clothes back to its true form and prepared to send them all using a device on her pointed hat. Or maybe it was the hat itself that became the device, who knows?
The last thing Harry felt before he was warped to someplace he never went to before was this uncomfortable feeling that the fabric of space distorted and wrapped around him, leaving an impression that he has just been pushed into a really tight place.
Maybe his father was right all along about magic, who knows? The hat is definitely not the type to make a rabbit appears out of it.
"Oops, I get a little carried away this time. So, sorry?"
Harry's first impression of magical means of transportation wasn't as good as he would expect, the poor boy could literally throw up all of his insides at this moment. The same goes to his sister, whose face already looked green from the result of their travels.
"You tricked us, mother. I thought that was a portkey..."
"Is that so, Tristan? Can you tell me what we're doing just earlier?"
Ignoring the conversation between his father and grandmother, harry took his time to take a look at his surroundings. This place was supposed to be the Diagon Alley, wizards' equivalent to muggle marketplace of some sort. However, it only looked... mundane to him. Being the grandson of a magician tends to do that, the old man lived in a circus that looked more magical than this.
There were shops and people selling various items which couldn't be found anywhere else on the part of the world, and the majority of passerby clad in robes adds a peculiar atmosphere to the place. It looked slightly surreal and oddly comforting at the same time.
For once in a while, Harry felt another place that is not Herons Nest his home. It's just like walking into a less eccentric version of his grandfather's place.
"You have the letter, darling? Let's go get some school supplies, you go get your own wand and I get the rest."
""Yes, grand... Uh... Lady Eria?"
"Hey, I like the sounds of that! Such a polite way to properly address a woman, see? Your wife did a good job raising him when you couldn't, Tristan."
The young woman in charge of raising her children when her husband is away, which is most of the time, returned her mother-in-law's approving smile with a pleasant smile of her own. Nothing is wrong with Harry's mother, her only problem is that her personality somehow changes depending on what she is wearing.
From the look of it, she is currently playing the role of the lady wife of a wealthy pureblood belonging to one of the so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'. He might be a squib, but Tristan Lancelot Prewett is still a pureblood no less, the only son of Lancelot Llew Prewett and Wisteria Artelina Prewett nee Greengrass.
The man might look harmless, but he actually defeated a Death Eater in the last war using his aunt's wand. He did so by poking it repeatedly into his eyes, Evan Rosier was already defenseless before the Aurors could put him to rest. The Death Eater somehow mistook him for one James Potter and attacked him despite the obvious difference.
"Can I go with Harry? I always wanted to know the difference between the real wizard's wand and grandpa J's wand. What made wizards wand so special?"
"Go ask Garrick, he owns the shop over there." His grandmother doesn't look so content with the question and pointed towards the direction of a certain shop with a sign saying 'Makers of fine wands since 323 B.C.' Isn't that where Merlin comes from? Maybe not.
Did Magical Britain even exists back then? The moving portraits of Merlin on Harry's bedroom never said anything about himself. The Great Wizard could be a time traveler or an immortal, but he is mostly a disappointment who always asks another question when faced with a question.
"Oh yes, Harry. Your father could be a cheapskate sometimes. Tell me if he doesn't pay or bought the cheapest thing in the store, I already gave him lots of galleons. It should be enough for everything, wands aren't usually that expensive anyway."
As Harry ventured inside the wand store with his father and sister, he saw a creepy old man he presumed to be the owner of the shop. The old man was about to open his mouth and say something when his father silenced him with a glare, saying 'Shut up and make it fast', his father was never known for his politeness anyway.
"Try some of those wands and wave it with your wand hand, choose the one with the strongest reaction."
Harry tried the first wand he saw, a small spark comes out from the tip of the wand. He proceeded to test the other wand, but nothing happened. The process was repeated for five or six more times until he got a much preferable response. This time, the wand on his hand produced glittering stars when he waved it, and soap bubbles.
His sister just watched him playing with the bubbles, sending it everywhere it could reach. At this moment, the glittering stars shine even brighter before ending in an explosion reminiscent of a firework. The confetti has been just an extra bonus.
"Dogwood, unicorn hair, 12 1/2 inches, flexible. How curious."
"What is so curious about brother's wand? Is it special?"
"Matching a dogwood wand with its ideal owner is always entertaining. Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous; they have playful natures and insist upon partners who can provide them with scope for excitement and fun. When was the last time I sold one, I wonder?"
Harry's father pulled his children from Ollivander before he could start an hour explanation about the wand and its material. Of course, Harry noticed the other reason why his father abruptly left after tossing some coins on the counter, it was to prevent Mafalda from asking too much of anything.
Thankfully, his sister doesn't seem to mind. She has come to the conclusion that she would get another chance to ask the wand maker in the future when she gets her own wands. Let's just hope she actually gets the letter and be able to see this magical side of the world again.
"Go get your uniform, I will be waiting outside. Here are some coins for your trouble."
Harry decided to enter the shop alone, leaving his father and sister alone. Although his father's expression stayed neutral in this moment, Harry could imagine the man's current mood to be the opposite. He doesn't notice a squat witch approaching him.
"Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here. There's another young man being fitted now, in fact."
There is another boy in the back side of the shop being fitted by another witch. The pale and pointed faced stood on a footstool next to Harry while he is being measured, and the boy greeted him. The boy asked him if he would be entering Hogwarts this year and he replied with a yes.
The boy soon asked him something about getting a broom and quidditch, his slightly arrogant way of speaking reminded Harry of lesson number 24 from his father's 72 lessons to survive in the Wizarding World. Only a pureblood or someone who thought themselves to be above everyone else could behave in that manner, complete with a drawling and bored voice.
He got the same skin complexions and color combinations with Harry's mother who is often jokingly stated to be a Malfoy by his father and grandmother alike. So, the boy is a Malfoy? Is he the real deal then? Harry need to tread carefully in this one or he could insult the heir of one of the most influential family in the Wizarding World.
"Know what house you'll be in yet?"
"My grandmother is in Slytherin and my father will kill me if I ended up in Gryffindor, but I guess Ravenclaw is not bad."
There is nothing wrong with being a Gryffindor, but his father said most of his other family member who went there tends to die young. Look at what happened to his uncle Fabian and Gideon, and a certain James Potter. Harry only knew his father named him after the man's son, said they were cousins or something.
"I know I'll be in Slytherin, all of our family have been. Speaking of family, what's your surname?"
"It's Prewett, Henry Julius Prewett. You can call me Harry."
"A Prewett? I should have noticed before. You have red hairs, but you doesn't look like a Weasley. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
The boy now identified as Draco Malfoy extended his hands, and Harry knows rejecting the offer to shook hands would only insult the boy and his family. Wizarding culture or not, the boy means no harm and offered it in such warm politeness.
To refuse means to state someone is not worth the time, and it's just rude no matter how he looked at it. Harry shook his hands and politely said 'Nice to meet you' before his grandmother went in with a big scope of ice cream on her hand. His mother was also there, with an even bigger scoop of ice cream on both hands, obscuring her face from view.
"Are we done yet? Your father seems to be daring to just go away somewhere where the world doesn't care."
"I'm impressed! My son is already making new friends on the go, your grandfather would be so proud! Here, boys! Let me treat you some ice creams, I ended up buying a little too much."
Harry's mother gave the two boys the over-sized ice creams that looked more like a snowball than an ice cream, and now he could see the similarities between his mother and a Malfoy. The Malfoy boy doesn't have rabbit eyes, though.
The moment when an older version of Draco with long hairs and refined airs entered the shop is a perfect opportunity to compare his mother's appearance to another Malfoy. Harry didn't try to have a clear look at the gentleman's feature because staring is rude and could get him into trouble.
"Father! I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to go. See you later in Hogwarts Express. You better be in Slytherin with me, Slytherin is the best house!"
Harry watched as the father and son pairs walked away, everything went well so far and he has made a new friend as well. What to do next? He really needs to make a list of things to do and not to do, or else he would end up not doing anything really convenient to his goal in the next seven years.
Considering he could actually get on the Hogwarts Express before it leaves King Cross without him inside, of course, things usually aren't that easy as it seems. Maybe he could start by changing a few little things before trying to change the entirety of the world. It was never that easy.
End of Chapter 1
A/N: Harry doesn't know about his real identity as the Boy-Who-Lived, he doesn't even have a real name before the Prewetts adopted him. Dumbledore is not the one to blame, he is just a little misguided in his 'For the Greater Good' way of thinking.
Leaving an orphan to his relatives who hated his parents? Brilliant. They ended up dumping him somewhere else, and the story starts while Dumbledore keeps thinking the Boy-Who-Lived is safe with them... But not for so long. See you next two week, cheers! Reviews make a happier place!