Author Notes
My first time to put it bluntly, i have read the following words a hundred times in other stories, now its my time to write it I guess:
"All rights go to the brilliance of J.K Rowling- all recognizable characters, setting, yada, yada, yada .The change in plot is entirely for my pleasure, and those like-minded in my thinking."
The story is definitely going to be dimension travel or time travel, depending on how I plan the next chapters. Mainly I just want to explore the Black family characters, see how much I can change the times before Harry. I will try to be realistic, if you find something out of character,be kind enough to inform me.
Right, I hope that cleared a few things up. Onward with the story...!
Chapter 1
The air was filled with shrieks of happy children playfully pushing and tossing each other, while their mothers looked on in amusement. Their eyes did stray occasionally in the direction of a lonely stranger, leaning heavily against the street lamp post.
"Wonder, Janice, should we confront him?" questioned Martha Thompson of number 11, as she surveyed the dark cloaked figure suspiciously, "It could be them, scoundrel youth these days!"
"I really rather you not, with all that has been happening, the best way to go about this, is to call the police. You heard the news this morning didn't you? Those strange firecrackers in the air? And all those weird people in pointy hats?" said Janice Rivers. She too was trying to subtly spy on the stranger, who was currently examining his fingers in a casual manner.
"Pointy hats, and medieval cloaks, I feel nostalgic already." murmured Martha, she signaled her daughter and son to enter the house. "As for the police, a fat lot of good they are. My cousin, Francis, remember her? She called upon them just two months back, they never turned up. Those idiots had somehow managed to crash into each other on the way, it was a blood bath. I think it is better to just head back inside, the safest we can be at these times." Both women bossily managed to herd their children back inside the house, all the while giving the stranger cautious looks.
The stranger for his part, tilted his head, causing the hood to slightly slacken, giving both women a moonlight view of his face. They were both dumbstruck for a moment before scampering inside and slamming the door, none too gently.
"Did you see those devilish eyes? That unkempt hair!
"Oh, did you notice that horrific scar? I tell you Martha, I shall get no sleep tonight!
"You think I will? I think I will give my children company tonight, got to keep them close. Did you secure the dead bolt? I have got a chain in here somewhere. Can't be too careful in these times.
"I have a bad feeling coming on, Janice"
Harry Potter sighed, exasperated at the drama that had just unfolded before his eyes. The Flats unfortunately didn't have soundproof glasses; he had been none too pleased at their description of him. Well at least they had finally cleared the streets. Exhaling slowly Harry jogged up the steps of 12 Grimmauld, before quickly disappearing through the door.
"I did not kill you." He stated immediately at the rising dust figure of Dumbledore. The figure disintegrated slowly. Harry stepped over the swirly dust particles, ensuring he had a ready hand on his wand. There could always be traps, set by Yaxley or some other death eater after its discovery. He walked past the hallway, eyes cringing at the peeling skins of the beheaded house elves. The hallway must have taken quite a blast in their last encounter. Some portraits were askew, while some downright shredded to pieces. The troll leg was nowhere to be seen, though Harry had his suspicions on its fate having noticed dried grayish-green substance on the hallway walls.
Harry was greeted with silence; the house was strangely cold and uninviting. Harry figured a nice warm comforter, or once he learned the warming charm from Hermione and got a blaring stereo he would have no problems with the seemingly sentient townhouse. But for tonight, he would just have to call Kreacher.
Clearing his throat, he shouted "Kreacher!"
Two unexpected outcomes presented themselves. Mrs. Black's portrait curtains flung themselves open, subjecting Harry to a lengthy monologue of what Walburga Black thought of his presence in the most ancient and noble house of Black. The second outcome was the non appearance of the house elf. Harry was struck with the thought of whether the elf had died in the battle. He hadn't checked yet. Harry supposed he should be feeling sorry, the elf had been highly useful to them in the last few months. Harry had just begun to tolerate his presence. He might have warmed up to him eventually, given the time.
"Sullying the house of my forefathers with filthy blood_" ranted the portrait.
Gritting his teeth, Harry got to work on the curtains, "Shut up you ugly old hag, why, oh why didn't you get blasted into smithereens along with rest of your family portraits?" he hurriedly pulled the curtains together, before she could tell him exactly what she thought of that comment.
He had come to Grimmauld for one thing, peace, and Harry was determined to have it. He got the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace before levitating a comfortable looking sofa towards it. He wasn't prepared to sleep in the uninviting cold beds the house had to offer him. Harry's last image before falling asleep was of an angry Ginny Weasley storming towards him. He had no doubt about what she would say when she found out about his hiding place.
Indeed, after hiding from Voldemort, Harry was now hiding from the wizarding press, especially the Daily Prophet. They had tried to keep him busy all day, until Harry had decided to forgo all false civility and simply disapparate from the spot, He would do the rest of the interviews later; now all he wanted to do was sleep.
He was unfortunately woken by a thumping sound, Harry blurrily rubbed his eyes before becoming alert and grabbing his wand. Leaving the kitchen, Harry entered the hallway leading to the staircases. The thumping was getting louder, and faster. Making his way up the stairs, Harry went all the way up to the upper floors, just below Sirius's room. The sounds were getting desperate, clearly coming from the farthest room in the floor. In a quick motion Harry blasted the door open, sending along a stinging hex in its direction.
A piercing squeal instantly sounded as the hex met its target.
"Master!" came a pathetic sob from within.
"Kreacher?" asked Harry incredulously, "your still alive? Why didn't you answer my call?"
The elf looked like it had been given clothes; it hobbled towards Harry, trying to slyly shut the room door on its way out.
"Stop Kreacher! I forbid you to do that." ordered Harry, causing the elf to grudgingly leave the door half closed.
"Master was sleeping, Kreacher didn't want to disturb master. Kreacher cares for his master's sleep" answered Kreacher, though he was tightly pulling down his oblong ears down to elbow length. An action, Harry suspected was one of the typical moves practiced by house-elfs when they felt they were lying.
"Yes, my beauty sleep was your utmost concern." said Harry sarcastically, trying to see past the elf."I doubt that very much, it looks to me like your hiding something. Your thumping was loud enough to wake me up. What have you been up to, Kreacher?" questioned Harry peering at the half ajar door.
Harry didn't wait for a reply, Kreacher was blabbering nonsensically, and he had his curiosity aroused. Stepping past the elf, Harry made his way towards the room. Kreacher rapidly followed behind Harry, catching up to his long strides. Just as Harry was about to push the door fully open, Kreacher acted. He captured Harry's left leg in an iron hold, causing Harry to aim a furious glare at the elf.
"Kreacher was trying to close, it wasn't getting closed" the elf started before changing track, "Master must not open the secrets of the Black room!" exclaimed Kreacher pulling Harry's leg in the opposite direction. "Master is not suited for its secrets!"
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or scream at the desperate look on the miserable elf's face. "I own the house now Kreacher. I have every right."
Merlin, Harry sounded arrogant even to himself. He vigorously tried to shake the elf off, but Kreacher had his leg in a relentless grip. "Master does not know how to handle it. Master will get the house of Kreacher's ancestral masters destroyed. What will Mistress say?" raved the house-elf tugging just as vigorously.
"Kreacher, let go now, I order you!" hissed Harry," that's an order Kreacher, do it now!"
Perhaps it was perfect timing or downright misplaced timing that had Harry pushing the door forcefully open, just as Kreacher decided to follow his order. With nothing to hold him back, and the door ajar, Harry staggered in, meeting face to face with a large, dark hole right where the floor was supposed to be.
Harry had only time to say an enraged "Kreacher" before he was falling headlong in to the abyss.
Harry could hear Kreacher's shrieks as the darkness closed over him.
"Master! What should Kreacher tell the blood-traitor Weasley? Master!"
Harry sighed in exasperation as darkness completely engulfed him. Ginny Weasley was not going to be pleased. Another injury was the last thing she wanted from him.
He would have continued in that line of thought, if a deep, deafening bang hadn't thundered from the abyss. He couldn't see anything, but he could certainly feel the dark tentacles of sinister magic surrounding him. It began to expand, and just as Harry felt the pressure was becoming unbearable, it burst. For a moment, Harry glimpsed blinding light, heard Kreacher's shrieks again mixed with shrieks that sounded suspiciously feminine before an invisible force dragged him into the darkness. "Master!"
Was that foolish elf going to help him now? The elf wouldn't survive. He wouldn't survive! Where was the justice?
"Go away Kreacher!."
The Aurors gathered around the ruins of what had once been the most ancient and pureblood house of Black. The surrounding flats had been totally ripped out from their foundations. The only thing in one piece, much to the chagrin of all the surrounding public was the shrieking portrait of Walburga Black, dangling askew on a stump of a wall, fenced by debris.
Author Notes: let me know if you like the story, or want anymore details :)