Title: Chance
By: Me, Michael! (grin)
Genre: Romance, Angst, Supernatural
Pairing: Harry/?? (not yet :P) Slash though. Possibly polygamous. Don't hold your breath and/or run away.
Disclaimer: I have one. yay.
Summary: Harry gets a letter that forcibly portkeys him towards a school that he gets a scholarship from, rendering his Hogwarts stay null and void. He must now take a chance at Brimax University with new people, friends, and foes. But how will he undertake this new choice of life when his own life's already broken?
-
'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°'°«,«°
,«°'°«, Gustave Liore, Gus for short, was scribbling nonstop in his two-room apartment/office.
He gripped the pen tightly, as if that act would force more ink out and quicken the pace of his work.
"Yes…the woodchip in the lock…Hubert's woodshop skills…his alibi's blunt flaw that today was a Sunday, henceforth eliminating the possibility that Jerome is an eyewitness to his presence in mass, since Jerome was atheist, and was driving his daughter to ballet class…Jerome's and his wife Collete's paid mortgages, signed anonymously…"
He had been working on this case for only three hours when he finally cracked it. He jolted up and held the piece of paper in the air triumphantly, crying out, "I've solved it!" before bolting out of his apartment and its building. The fifteen-year old ran frantically towards Central Police Station, the biggest one, only three blocks from his apartment, ignoring the bloody bird that was badgering him, before coming to a complete halt.
The bird—an owl, he quickly processed—steered itself and landed gracelessly onto his matted chocolate hair, sticking both its feet down, clutching at an envelope, smack onto Gus' gob smacked face.
Crying out his choice curses he made a grab for the crisp white paper before brushing off his head the poor owl, which flopped down onto the side of the road and fluffed its feathers indignantly before flying off.
"An owl! A bloody owl used to send letters for Pete's sake! Why, of all the absurdity…"
He pressed down at the wrinkles with his hands before ripping the flap off and examining the letter. Maybe this was another one of his pompous father's antics.
In the rush of the moment he read the letter too quickly and had to double back to understand it.
~ Brimax University of Magicks International ~
To Gustave Alphonse C. Liore,
We are happy to inform you that you, who had come of age last November, have been officially accepted at Brimax University of Magicks Intl. with a Second Degree Scholarship.
The first school term of the year will be starting on the 22nd of February, and enclosed in this letter is a list of all the necessities for this stay. All books and equipment are fully provided by the University, along with necessary living arrangements.
Please note that this letter will act as a portkey charmed to take you to the school grounds sixty seconds prior to its reading.
Yours amicably,
The representatives of Brimax University of Magicks Intl.
Vance Alvise O. Brimax VII
Headmaster of Brimax University
Lorelei Elisabeth T. Brimax
Headmistress of Brimax University
Gustave, not quite grasping what the hell he just read, stared in disbelief. Shaking his head wildly he immediately reread the whole letter, taking note of the 'university's' name, the people involved, and all the information present until he stopped at the word 'portkey'.
"Portkey? What in Christ's name is a Por—"
That was the last anyone would have heard him say, if anyone were there, before the letter glowed and Gustave vanished along with it.
-
Leonard Saxon, Leon for short, had successfully broken past a heavily secured bank with only his makeshift lock picks (paper clips, hair clips et cetera) and broom. He didn't need anything else—his magick did the rest.
He tied his sandy long hair up in a wolf-tail because it would impede his mission otherwise. Reaching the main vault, he reached out and placed his open palms onto the titanium slab, feeling the cold surface biting his skin. He took a deep breath and then unleashed his magick, mentally instructing it to dissolve the titanium. After fifteen seconds a hole big enough for a fifteen-year old to squeeze through was made.
Irritatingly, St. Barbara Bank was the only bank in Sweden to have employed magick users. It was the only one Leonard had a problem stealing from, despite his best efforts and bank-heisting prowess.
It was therefore an unusual surprise when Leonard found an open window in the vault.
Stacking a few million dollar gold bars he reached up and hefted himself up to peek outside the window, only to find that it opened into the ocean. He peeked down, noticing the magical trip wires surrounding the window and narrowly avoiding them, and surely, a few jagged rocks jutted out from the sea foam.
Now why hadn't he noticed the treacherous cliff right behind the bank before?
Shaking off the laughter threatening to bubble up he jumped off the gold bars and started shrinking them.
After a dozen or two gold bars have been shrunken to fit his satchel, an alarm sounded.
"Shit," he cursed.
His eyes snapped towards the trip wired window (the only one with protection) and found an owl swooping down towards him. It circled him once before dropping a crisp white envelope.
The titanium vault door had long ago tripled in thickness, the hole completely blocked. He really should be panicking right about now, but something told him that the letter had some importance to it.
He held it in his trembling hands, taking note of the magick it was dripping with, and then ripped the flap off.
He read slowly.
~ Brimax University of Magicks International ~
To Leonard Michael P. Saxon,
We are happy to inform you that you, who had come of age last April, have been officially accepted at Brimax University of Magicks Intl. with a Third Degree Scholarship.
The first school term of the year will be starting on the 22nd of February, and enclosed in this letter is a list of all the necessities for this stay. All books and equipment are fully provided by the University, along with necessary living arrangements.
Please note that this letter will act as a portkey charmed to take you to the school grounds sixty seconds prior to its reading.
Yours amicably,
The representatives of Brimax University of Magicks Intl.
Vance Alvise O. Brimax VII
Headmaster of Brimax University
Lorelei Elisabeth T. Brimax
Headmistress of Brimax University
"Warning, warning. Vault nine-o-two-one-o will now be filled with neurotoxin thirty six."
Just as he heard the sprays fizzing the letter glowed and Leonard disappeared.
-
Harold James Potter, Harry for short, had had a run-in with one of the tougher Slytherin boys. Despite being a fifth year and a fifteen-year old, his frail body held no resistance against the persistent bullies.
This particular beating was frighteningly similar to his Uncle Vernon's, Harry thought exasperatedly, in terms of the severity of the damage done and the length of time it took. He was hardly surprised he had stayed conscious and aware enough to take note of that, he thought grimly.
And now, he was desperately Scourgify'ing away the trail of blood as he clambered up the staircase towards his bedroom, the one Headmaster Dumbledore gave to him so that the 'Boy-Who-Lived' could have the privacy he deserved.
Oh yes, he deserved it, but the others didn't think so.
He was in the bathroom of the second floor when the Slytherins got to him, calling him 'fake' and 'freak' while landing carefully placed punches and kicks. They didn't need magic for this one—Harry was outnumbered one to seven.
It was because that they—everyone--had expected for the defeater of the Dark Lord and Savior of the Wizarding World to be a stuck up, arrogant Holier-than-thou, and had judged Harry before he was given a chance to show his real personality. The students for one thought that his now gentle, reserved reverie was nothing but an act to win them back, when really Harry had been that way since the Dursleys started with their abuse.
Harry had accepted that. Dumbledore had told him that he was destined to defeat the Dark Lord again and that that was his only purpose in life. He was willing to sacrifice himself, because really he was nothing short of significant to lose. He didn't think he had any purpose besides that, and all of the people around him made sure he remembered it.
Wincing as his bleeding palms turned the doorknob he collected himself and entered the dingy room that was his. Located at the top of Gryffindor tower where all of the Gryffindor wares used to be stored, Harry couldn't have settled for anything else. Its was small, sure, due to fact that it was a room at the very tip of the turret, and yes, it was rank and mouldy when it rained, but comparing this to the cupboard he had at the Dursleys was comparing Heaven to a brothel. He had the privacy and the basic furniture for his living arrangements, the bathroom and also the fantastic view his window opened to. It was all he needed. He was satisfied.
He limped towards the small bed after placing a clean towel over it as to not spread blood on the tidy sheets. He took off his shirt carefully, wincing once again as pain pierced his right shoulder instantaneously. It had been dislocated. He was grateful towards Madam Pomfrey for teaching him multiple healing charms that could cure even a terminal illness. He bit back a scream as the magic popped the joint back in, but could not contain it a few seconds later when it popped out again. Tears streaming he said the incantation again, and thankfully it stayed in place long enough for him to secure it in place with magical braces.
He then stripped to his boxers and ran his hand down the length of his painfully thin body. No sooner than his hand passed over each wound did they disappear, leaving faint scars in its place. Harry didn't bother placing Glamours because he was used to the torment. He was getting looks of disgust already, anyway. Also, he had quite enough scars that he wasn't capable of hiding them, because a wizard's body couldn't take being Glamour'ed fully.
Sighing wearily he crawled under the covers and stared at the conic ceiling stoically. This day just got worse by the minute.
Snape had passed being verbal and was now physical. He employed the use of a teaching stick these days and was not hesitant to punish Harry. He had been late because someone got into his rooms and had stolen his Potions book. He found it thirty minutes later in the fish fountain on the third floor near the Charms classroom. When he entered Potions class he got twenty five points off Gryffindor, and an additional twenty five points for the wet Potions book.
Draco Malfoy had sabotaged his potion. That was the excuse Snape quickly disregarded. Harry got detention for it.
After that incident Harry had walked towards the Great Hall for lunch and sat in his usual seat—the one at the very end where no one sat.
He quite liked the peace the Great Hall offered during lunch, because he gets the satisfaction of filling his stomach up, and no one would dare hurt him for there are a hundred-too-many witnesses. A lot of people spared him glances, but only to whisper to their seat mates lies and vulgarities. Harry was used to it by now.
He doesn't bother looking back at them, eating quickly and leaving immediately. It was because of this reason he didn't see worried, dreamy eyes from across the hall and twin pairs of confused eyes from his own table.
Charms and Transfigurations class went on the same—he would sit at the back of the class and participate only when called upon. In here the looks people gave him were more slicing. He didn't mind them. He'd seen a lot worse in his dreams.
It was when he was relieving himself that night at the second floor after Transfigurations when the culprits who stole his Potions book cornered him.
Now, thinking about it, Harry was very tired, but he fought to keep himself awake because he didn't want to see his mother getting killed again or Cedric's soul leaving his only friend's body.
Good thing he did, too, because he would have missed the owl that had a letter for him.
-
Fred and George Weasley had had enough. This boy, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been through too much for such a young age, and they could not bare seeing those dead, hollow eyes unresponsive to every horrible thing they been through. It didn't help at all that their brother and sister Ronald and Ginevra had taken it in themselves to lead the whole anti-Potter brigade. They didn't know why they hated Harry. For all they knew Harry was as normal as them. Sure he saved the Wizarding World, but he was only one then, and their siblings motive that Harry was to be controlled was uncalled for. Calling it uncalled for was an understatement, even. Harry didn't even exude any allegation they had against the boy, and yet here they were antagonizing the poor kid.
Fred and George had talked and argued over it multiple times, until they had come to a decision to approach the boy and help. They decided a little visit to his private rooms tonight might answer some questions and, hopefully, solidify some sort of trust in them in Harry's part.
-
Luna Lovegood kept the unmistakeable pretense of staring into space and looking forlorn for practical and frankly sneaky reasons. Doing so gave people a false sense of security around her, and helped her hide what she truly is. She had managed to pass off staring at Harry Potter as daydreaming that lunch, and that gave her the opportunity to scrutinize the Savior of the Wizarding World. After years of observing she had noticed grimly that Harry Potter's eyes had turned duller and duller each year, and has completely shied away from everyone.
She didn't know why. Okay, she thought, that's not completely true. She had an inkling long ago that the cause was the people generally driving Harry away, but she knew from there on there was something more. She wouldn't know--even though she was in Ravenclaw house she could only figure out so much before approaching Harry herself. So that was what was ni her agenda for tonight--ask the boy himself.
-
"Loony Lovegood. What are you doing here?" the twins asked in unison as they approached the stair to Harry's room.
Luna stared unmoving for a while before nodding. "Same reason you are," she replied offhandedly, before walking past them and up the stairs.
George and Fred looked at the girl's back warily before nodding, too, and following her up.
As they drew near Luna was becoming slightly panicked. She knew the smell of blood. The stairwell positively reeked of it.
She informed the two seventh years of what she smelled, and from there Fred and George took out their wands. They cast the spell and found copious amounts of blood residue all over the stairwell. They shook their heads gravely before continuing on.
Luna stopped abruptly in front of the door, scowling. When the twins reached her she pointed out the doorknob, which had a handprint made from blood. They paled.
George raised a hand and knocked. It broke the slience that hung around them.
No one replied. Fred knocked too. Nothing.
"Harry? Are you in there?" Luna called, and a few seconds later Fred and George called as well.
Light suddenly flashed from the door's crevices, signaling their panic. Luna tried to do the spell of unlocking, but to no avail. George and Fred joined in as well, but the door had too many locking charms to work on. Luna had to pry the wards open with a universal counter so that Fred and George could Apparate the three of them in.
When they got inside, they saw a bloody towel, an open window, and an empty bed.
A note to the readers:
This is just to place things into perspective. The –tave in Gustave is pronounce with a long 'a', as in 'gave' or 'knave'. I know I didn't elaborate much but simply put these three would be the main characters for my OC romance. Brimax in the next chapter! Tell me what you think; suggest some stuff, say hi to me—whatever, just leave reviews! People look at review counts first! And I reply to reviews so woopie-dee!
Chance MiniSeries Volume Uno!
Gus: We had such short parts in this! I didn't even get to point a finger at the culprit! You see Hubert could actually fashion a duplicate key out of hardwood and that was how he entered the crimescene--
Leon: Gus, quit yapping and come over here! (Goes to Harry, crying in a corner)
Harry: (Sniffle)
Gus: Harry?
Leon: What's wrong?
Harry: He...he...he dislocated my shoulder (sniff)! (points to Michael)
Gus: (Angry) Why you little...
Leon: Piece of shit! (throws knife)