Author's note: This is most likely badly, or at least oddly, written. I was attacked by a plot bunny for this, and I really just wanted to get it written, so it's probably a little random, and I'm sure there's things that I could have tied up better but meh. I don't really care, make of it what you will. I mainly just enjoyed writing it. My apologies for any spelling/grammar errors, I wrote this while playing RuneScape, using notepad, so I had no spell/grammar checker. Ah well, enjoy. :-) Oh and P.S. I don't own. Obviously.
"Potter, Harry."
And so the whispers begun. It wasn't as though he was not expecting it. He was, after all, the boy who lived. What a ridiculous thing to be famous for; though it did have its perks. The magical world was, after all, a world of sheep. Time for the wolf to take advantage.
"Oh dear, oh dear me Mister Potter. You do have quite the intruiging mind. Cruel and sadistic, yet charismatic and sauve. I can see that your sadism isn't without founding, Albus really was quite stupid in his decision... yes, "the Hat continued, answering the thought about question, "I do know about that. I live in his office you know, I do hear things. Mind you, you already knew that, didn't you? No wonder I can feel the power coiled tightly up inside of you. Oh yes, I can feel it. Supression doesn't work too well when I'm inside your head."
At this, the hat paused, listening carefully to the thoughts of its wearer. "Good luck with that, it would certainly be a noble effort. The founders, when creating me, told me that should a student ever have the power and the desire, and to ask of it, they should be given the knowledge. Yes, yes indeed, I think I've stalled long enough by talking to you Mister Potter. There is no doubt in my mind that you belong where I'm going to put you."
And so the hat went silent for a moment; once again listening patiently as he gained the instructions from the boy sat underneath him.
"Slytherin!" The hat shouted with even more furor than usual to the great hall that lay before it. The reaction was obvious, and of course as predicted by the young emerald eyed boy, the hall kept its stony silence.
Harry could hear stray thoughts through the passive legilimency he employed. They were all saying similar things; all along the vein of "what the hell? Slytherin?" - and this was including Slytherin. Not that they were really complaining, as after an almost painful silence, the house of its newest member burst out in applause and cheers.
I guess I was right about the sheep thing, Harry mused silently to himself as he removed the hat and stalked predatorily over to the table that he would now call his.
It didn't take long.
To charm his magically permenent contact lenses with the same ability as the sorting hat, that is.
With a difference of course. He could freely enter the mind of anyone he looked at now, in the same way that the sorting hat did. No occlumency would stop him. No occlumency could stop him. Magic really did make life easy at times.
Shame that "not too long" was actually three years. But in the long run, what's a few years of meaningless school? Especially when you already had all the answers. Memories really are useful.
Not that he wasted those three years, oh no. In those three years, he cultivated the kind of Slytherins he wanted. Malfoy was out. That was not the kind of ally he wanted. No, he did the Dark Lord very few favours, outside of money and the odd Crucio. Crabbe and Goyle, equally bad. Both as stupid as their respective fathers - not good follower material.
Ally? Follower? Didn't really matter to him. As long as they did as they were told.
Lover... now that was a different matter. From day one, there was only one person he desired. As cold and ruthless as himself, with strong enough occlumency to keep almost all of her secrets, and hold back all of her cruelty. Her family also held no Death Eaters, in fact, they were perpetually neutral. Definately a plus in Harry's book.
The day that he finished the charm on the lenses, was the day he got her. The day he cracked the icy mask all around her. All it took was a few words, and she was his.
That was the day that the first Greengrass chose a side.
Before he knew it, the final four years had passed.
Harry took personal pride in the fact that, having the memories that he did in addition to his own knowledge, he would have set many new records. He already had for the OWLS. The NEWTS would be no different.
Though it had cost him a pretty penny, or rather a pretty galleon or several, he had gotten his results early. He smirked as he glanced over the results, his newly betrothed stood behind him mirroring the facial expression herself. A Perfect score. 100% on every exam, plus extra credit for all. 14 NEWTS. All 14 NEWTS. My my, Daphne was going to reward him later.
Dumbledore sat up in his office, trying for what seemed like the hundred thousandth time to pry the knowledge of what was in Harry Potter's head at the sorting. The Sorting Hat was meant to divulge this information to him. It was a safety measure, in case there were problems at home - the headmaster/mistress was supposed to be able to know!
"He leaves today Albus, perhaps if you ask him nicely, he might divulge you. God knows I've told you won't, it's not my place. Ask him yourself; something tells me he might comply this time. Oh, and I'd suggest not trying to use legillimency, he's much better than you are at it." The Hat said to the old man, who looked rather pensive at the suggestion, and then nodded his acquiescence.
"Crinkles?" the old man called out, at which a house elf popped into his office. "Please tell Mister Potter to come to see me, I am sure that he knows the password by now." The elf nodded, and popped away.
Ten minutes later, a tall handsome teen with jet black hair and piercing emerald eyes entered his office. His smirk showing that he knew what this meeting was about.
As Harry entered, even without reading any thoughts, he knew what this was about. Why was Harry like he was? How was he so powerful? How this? How that? Why this? Why that?
He'd been trying to pry that information for years.
Mind you, if not for quick work, it would have been much worse when he told the headmaster quite calmly that "all of Tom's horcruxes are gone headmaster, you have no need to worry on that front"; which had baffled the headmaster long enough to be obliviated to forget that Voldemort ever had horcruxes. In fact, he thought that Harry had simply killed Voldemort at age one.
As they say; ignorance is bliss.
"When I was six, I found that I could control certain things. Make things move, and the like. It was greatly... exciting I suppose is the word, to find out that those who mistreated you could easily be swayed by a multitude of hovering kitchen knives." He begun, illiciting a gasp from the headmaster.
"Oh don't worry. They are still alive, after all, if they had not been, the blood wards would have fallen. And as that," he said pointing to a ridiculous looking silver instrument that looked more like a kinky... something or other, for deviant purposes unknown, "would prove."
"No, they... happily told me about a trunk that my mother had left. Quite the secret bitch, my mother. She had a lot of notes on a lot of nasty things, many of which she, hmm, practised? On my father, before they ended up together. Oh and of course the final one, the permenent love potion, bound to her. Marvellous way to get rich and respected; but anyway, I'm getting off the point." At this, he took out a small silver tinted crystal phial, with a crystal stopper in it and placed it on the desk.
"Feel free, take a look, you might find it interested. Memory of me, as a six year old - oh and the abuse before it." Albus picked up the phial between wrinkled fingers and held it up to the light, as though inspecting it. He unstoppered it, and poured the oddly enticing plasma-like substance into the pensieve in front of him, and entered.
When he returned from its bowels... so did his lunch.
"Ah yes, I included my practicing of the spells from my mother's notes. Petunia is still in stasis in the basement by the way. Vernon and Dudley are not. They woke up in a police station. Imagine if you will, Dudley's head truly stuck in the place that it belonged; his father's arse - and Vernon vice versa. Fitting payback, in my opinion."
At this point Dumbledore was white as a sheet, stomach empty, not even dry heaving any more. It was a sad state to see a 150-something year old man in, yet Harry continued.
"Oh, and here're all the memories back that I obliviated you of." If possible, Dumbledore went whiter as he remembered everything.
"Voldemort truly is dead. He tried to possess me, but I beat him. I took his mind over, and destroyed it. It had the nice side effect of destroying his horcruxes too, and of giving me all of his experiences, memories, thoughts, and feelings. You fucked him up Albus. You fucked him up good." By this time, even Fawkes looked sad as he dropped on the perch. So they were bonded, a rather useless little fact, considering what was coming.
"So now you know. Now you know how and why and what I am, and all the reasons. Do you have anything to say to me?" Harry asked, genuinely curious as to the reply that such a question would provide.
"I... I can only repeat the sentiment that I have had since I first laid eyes on you, and once again when you walked through the doors of the great hall." The old man trailed off slightly at this, choking up, as though he knew this was his last chance.
When he finally calmed enough to speak, he had but a few simple words to say.
"You are not what I expected."
The reply to this came after a stagnant pause, as though Harry were chewing the words in his mind - savouring the flavour of them. And then he spoke.
"Obliviate maximus."