Harry Potter and the Black Throne
Summary: What if holding all of the Hallows held a consequence? Being a Master of Death went against all laws of magic. So what is magic's way of restoring the law? Well, throw Harry Potter into another dimension of course.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
AN - The Prologue and first chapter will be centered around Harry. It may be a bit...confusing.
Prologue
The End is the Beginning
Harry looked at the wand in his hand, a feeling of triumph re-coursing through him as his years of torture had finally come to an end. The Dark Lord Voldemort had finally, finally fallen and he could already hear the yells of relief and happiness from here. The light of the day had finally shone down and he could feel the weight coming off his shoulders.
But it was not meant to be.
The young teen could feel something convulse from within him, as if his own magic was turning his insides out. It was painful, severely so that he could hardly even breathe, he dropped the wand in his hands as if it were a disease as it burned him to hold it.
"W-what?" His hand started to burn, an unpleasant feeling that was shared with the rest of his body. And like Voldemort, Harry found himself to be withering away as well. He widened his eyes in panic.
"So the boy...the boy must die?"
The voice of Severus Snape rang through his head again and again.
"HARRY!" A terror filled voice shrilled throughout the clearing. "HARRY!"
But he couldn't hear anymore as his body started to lose all functions. The last thing Harry Potter knew, in this world, were the tears of his best friends.
And then everything went black.
He felt his mind stir, as if he would be awakening soon. The first thing that registered was the warmth of the air around him, odd seeing as how the battle with Voldemort had left him around a more chilly atmosphere.
Wait. What?
Voldemort? Why was he thinking about the Dark Wizard that had been defeated no less then eleven years ago? And why had he been battling him in the first place? He was only eleven years old. But why was he suddenly thinking with confidence that he was older, that he was seventeen and had just defeated the darkest wizard of the century?
Why was he thinking that he was someone named Harry Potter? No, that wasn't his name. And where did all of this knowledge of Hogwarts come from? He had gotten his letter no later then a month ago when it arrived in his room, at the orphanage he lived in.
No, he wasn't Harry Potter. He was Harold Knight.
Or was he?
His headache grew, and grew until he started to groan in pain. Luckily, as he began opening his eyes, he noticed that the compartment was empty. He had arrived earlier then the required time, hoping to settle his nerves of excitement by being here rather then arriving while everyone else was.
Knowledge he didn't have before fueled into his mind. Information on transfiguration, spells from charms, a lot of things about Potions and Defense against the Dark Arts as well, he began to know things he didn't know before. How was this possible? The racism between Muggles and Purebloods, how there was a hatred that Purebloods contained and directed. Horcruxes, the darkest of dark magic, a way to become young and immortal forever, knowledge that was rare and obscure entered his mind all at once.
He almost fainted, overloaded with information. Luckily, no one was around to notice his pain.
And then, it all stopped.
He stood up, took out his wand and conjured a mirror as if it was the easiest thing in the world. How do I know how to do this, he thought to himself, as he took a look in the mirror.
His fingers traced an invisible spot on his forehead, a scar that was supposed to be there, now gone and a feeling of relief entered him. Apparently, he was not the boy-who-lived.
The who?
"What in the hell is going on?" Harry muttered to himself, thinking of a way to arrange his thoughts clearly. "Occlumency!"
He began to organize his thoughts, a practice that often saved him from the trouble of headaches. It was instinct, an instinct he didn't have before. Hopefully, he would be able to understand just what was going on.
Memories of a powerful stone, belonging to a man named Nicholas Flamel, and his own adventures including two friends, a three headed dog and numerous other challenges were becoming clear to him. He had two friends, two people he didn't know, that had helped him overcome challenges he couldn't do alone.
In his second year of Hogwarts, he remembered every detail. About the heir of Slytherin, the basilisk, some idiot named Lockhart and many people being petrified. His slaying of the basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor, him explaining everything to the headmaster, and many other things that happened that year. He put all of that information in a section of his mind, he called the area, 'year two'. Harry grinned, it worked.
He organized every single year. In his third year, a man named Sirius Black was innocent. Remus Lupin was a werewolf and the two were part of a group known as the Marauders, a team of pranksters. Members included James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and the traitor, Peter Pettigrew. As he came across that name, a feeling of hate fueled him.
In fourth year, he had to overcome many obstacles, not all of them coming from a tournament known as the Tri-Wizard. His friend had betrayed him, but later rejoined him, in an effort to save face and gain back friendship. It annoyed Harry for some reason. Other darker memories surfaced as well, the death of Cedric Diggory, the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort. He shivered, it had been a terrible year.
Fifth year, was one filled with annoyance and sorrow. His Godfather's death, he had lead his friends into a trap set by Death Eaters. Some idiot named Umbridge had tortured him in detention, she was the worse teacher he ever had. Worse then Snape. He briefly remembered teaching a giant as well...odd, odd memories.
In Sixth year, Albus Dumbledore had died. Draco Malfoy was a death eater and the world went to hell soon after. He went on a quest to search for Voldemort's horcruxes, and then all the way, until he finally defeated him.
What a long journey...
Harry widened his eyes, as he felt another entity within him. A feeling of foreign magic merged within him, he didn't question how he knew the details of such a thing, and it continued to do so until he felt different.
And it was over in a mere moment. A new conscience had awakened.
"What in Merlin's..." He clapped his hands over his mouth. Merlin? When did he start to use Merlin quotes, he wasn't raised in the magical world.
But he grew up there. He was Harry Potter.
No, he was Harold Knight.
But that was wrong too. As his new conscience had told him, he was...both.
Merlin's bloody balls, the impossible had reached him once again. He had gained another conscience, something that was supposed to be impossible. Habits he didn't have before, knowledge he never knew he now had, power beyond belief filled him.
Excitement.
"I'm back at Hogwarts..." He muttered to himself. "I'm eleven again, I'm Harold Knight." A pained look came to him. He calmed himself, it did no good to be confused.
Hermione had told him the possibilities of alternate dimensions. And being the human Harry was, he decided to grab on to the most logical thing he could think of, no matter how illogical anyone else would think it was.
He had just been thrown into another dimension and merged with the counterpart of this world, his agent, his shadow. From now on, Harold Knight was Harry Potter.
Now he just had to accept this before the Harold Knight part of his mind exploded in confusion. And magic would once again calm down.
Ok.
He took another deep breath.
"I'm Harold Knight. From another dimension, Harry Potter was thrown out and has entered my conscience with all his memories. I now host two consciences that have merged."
No matter how stupid it sounded, Harry was determined to accept the logic. Lest he implodes, a thought that amused him.
"Ok...the first step is always self-acceptance. Hermione was right after all." He muttered. "Now, where am I?"
According to the previous knowledge of Harold Knight, he was on the Hogwarts Express, getting ready to take his first...err, seventh adventure to Hogwarts. It was a nostalgic feeling.
Standing up, he felt odd that he was no longer his former height. If he was right, he was about five foot, taller then the average eleven year old. It was amusing, Harry Potter had been four foot two inches, far below the average.
He got a hold of his new body, his reactions. They were slower, but with time, he would once again refine to his old form. Harry was a powerful wizard, strong enough to defeat plenty of adult wizards in a straight duel. He liked the feeling, this power.
Searching through his memories, he smiled and took a look at his wand. Eleven inches, phoenix feather, his old friend that had been destroyed on his journey to defeat Lord Voldemort. He briefly considered owling a wand conditioning set, and to add on a handle for better grip later on. After all, a fine wand such as his deserved to be treated with respect.
And then he remembered the owl he had bought back in Diagon Alley as Harold Knight. Hedwig had returned to him. A genuine smile made it to his face, a fallen friend had returned to him once more. He had to make sure to always take care of the beautiful snowy owl.
Sitting back down, he decided to look over the background of Harold Knight once more. An orphan from the age of one, he got his Hogwarts letter about a month ago and his parent's status was unknown apparently. Was it possible that his parents were alive in this world? Even if that was possible, why wasn't he with them then? Logically, they were dead and he was orphaned as a result, as much as in pained him to think.
Everything is so similar but yet, so different, Harry thought. He looked the same except his hair seemed to be shorter and was combed similar to the way he had it back in fifth year.
He was broken out his thoughts as the compartment door opened. Apparently, people had began to arrive on the train.
"Hello." Harry looked at the boy's face. He almost didn't recognized him until he saw the dark green toad in his hands. Neville?
"Hi." Harry replied.
"Is it alright if I sit here?" He smiled, but it wasn't the nervous or shy one he remember all those years ago. He was thinner and radiated more confidence. It was nice to have this skill to find the small details, or he would have assumed he was the same Neville.
"Of course." He replied. If he was right, this boy would grow up to be a leader of men and a good man. He was a friend in his other life as well.
"My name is Neville Longbottom by the way and this is my toad, Trevor." Harry grinned and almost chuckled at the memories of his friend and toad. Neville had been clumsy back then but this time, he seemed to be more confident, almost powerful as he emitted an aura that would assure his status as a pureblood. He would have made his grandmother proud.
"Harold Knight, but I prefer to be called Harry." Harry smiled, "It's nice to meet you, Neville." They shook hands.
"So, what house do you think you'll be in?" Neville asked. Harry honestly didn't know how to answer, after all, he no longer had any discrimination against any of the houses. He never did share the same hatred Ron had for Slytherin, he was well aware that there were good Slytherins out there. Like there were bad Gryffindors, there were good Slytherins. Ravenclaw had an infestation of bullies, bred from arrogance no doubt. Hufflepuff had good people, loyal but were easily jealous, a fact he learned in his fourth year. Easily pushed over the edge, some Hufflepuffs were.
"I'll take any house that will except me." He replied. "Any house."
"Really? Even Slytherin?" Neville asked, skeptical. An annoyed look crossed Harry.
"What's wrong with Slytherin?" He asked coolly. "You make it sound like there is something wrong with them."
"Well..." He bit his lip, looking cautious. "You-Know-Who was from there."
And that settled it. The Neville from his world was a far braver man then this one. It couldn't be helped of course, the one in front of him was only eleven. They weren't the same.
"One man should not be the face of an entire group of people." Harry replied calmly. "Every house had their goods...and bads. The fact that Slytherins are pushed away is what isolates them, and they have no choice but to become what everyone wants them to be - To be evil and untrustworthy. It only pushes them farther down the path because we, humans who think we are always right, cannot see our own ideas to be wrong."
Neville didn't really seem to understand him so he dropped the subject and smiled. "Anyways, what house do you think you'll get into?"
The boy smiled briefly. "Gryffindor but I wouldn't mind Hufflepuff."
This seemed to surprise him a bit. Before, the Neville he knew seemed to be adamant about being only in Gryffindor. What could have changed? Was it possible that his parents never had to suffer at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr?
"That sounds fantastic." Harry said, remembering his old house. "I hope you get it."
"Thanks." He smiled brightly.
Harry couldn't help but feel out of place. Only a couple days ago, he had been fighting a dangerous war against the dark forces, the pro-pureblood campaign set on destroying the muggle-borns in the magical world. He had been fighting against one of the darkest wizards of the century, Tom Riddle, and now after it all, Harry found himself back to his best childhood memory - Going to Hogwarts and feeling the freedom of escaping a place he hated, it was a feeling he couldn't identify.
The Hogwarts express had set off nearly two hours ago, Neville was asleep and in front of him was a book, one that he had read a good seven or so years ago. He felt ahead of the game, a relief because that left more time for exploring the castle. After all, he never got to enjoy exploring the castle before with the threat of Voldemort combined with doing well in classes before, so he was determined to do so now.
As for the book in front of him...well, couldn't hurt to have a little review.
And then he remembered the Dark Lord once again. If his original memories served him correctly, the Dark Lord here was also defeated. Harold Knight didn't gather sufficient information as to how he was defeated. Harry would have to wait until Hogwarts to know for sure, not to mention he didn't feel like waking Neville Longbottom to ask. It was not a conversation he wanted to have with his future friend after all.
But what of Horcruxes? Was it possible that the Dark Lord had also created Horcruxes to preserve his life this time as well?
The only way Harry would know is if Voldemort appeared. And if he did, Harry would strike. But for now...he would approach the thought with a wait and see method. For now...he was a child. One with the memories of another boy from another child, but a child nonetheless.
He fleetingly wondered the many things he could do with his knowledge.
The Great Hall was as beautiful as he remembered on this night. The ceiling was charmed to look like the true night sky, something he heard Hermione whisper out just a mere moment ago like he remembered would happen.
The song the hat sang was different, something he noted with light interest. It sounded more like the one that was sang in his fifth year.
And as for the sorting, well, it was mostly the same. Hermione was sent to Gryffindor like before, it wasn't a surprise this time. Over the years, she has proven again and again that she belonged to the house of the brave.
"Knight, Harold."
Unlike before, there was a bit of silence instead of loud whispering. He wasn't famous this time around...that was a good thing, he hated being famous for something he hadn't even known. Of course, being famous for being a total badass at Quidditch was an entirely different story, seeing as how he had earned that right for himself.
He felt the professor place the hat in his head, and then he heard a voice.
"...How in Merlin's bloody balls am I supposed to sort you?"
The sorting hat had a sense of humor. Who knew, Harry grinned at the thought.
"I heard that." The hat said indignantly. "Honestly. Well, it has been a while since I've come across a case like yours. Almost five hundred years to be exact."
Another person as well? Someone else had gained memories from another dimension?
"Oh yes but she has died many years ago, her name faded into the shadows of time. Anyways, I sense a great deal of...well, everything within you. Courage, loyalty, cunning, a healthy thirst for intelligence as well...but above them all, you are easily the most loyal person I've known. Helga would have been truly proud to welcome you to her house. You've had a good run with Godric already, although I am disappointed that you never accepted to go to Slytherin. Your ambitions have changed since then, all you want now is peace."
Harry nodded. I'll go anywhere you see fit, He told the hat.
"Anywhere indeed. Well Mr. Potter...or is it Knight now? You have shown a great deal of loyalty, one that transcends the bounds of an entire universe itself, so it better be..."
"HUFFLEPUFF!" He received a polite applause from the Hufflepuff table, it warmed him.
It was a good feeling. The threat of Voldemort was gone for the moment and he had time to relax for a bit. He smiled briefly as Neville was once again sorted into Gryffindor.
All was well until Mcgonagall had hit the "P" sessions.
"Potter, Petunia."
He was slightly shocked to see a girl, red headed and of average height. She had hazel eyes and bursted with an aura of having been raised well, and adored. She sat on the stool with a bright smile on her face as she took a look at one of the teachers behind her, whom also had read hair.
His eyes snapped to the teacher and he felt a sense of relief, sadness and confusion enter him all at once.
Lily Potter (nee Evans) was right in front of him, alive and well.
But then why wasn't he under her care? Why was he named Knight? What was going on?
He managed to keep a straight face throughout all of this. Once he finally calmed down, Harry began to hear the whispers of those around him. A whisper he dreaded to hear.
"Isn't she?"
"Yeah."
"The Girl-Who-Lived."
The Girl-Who-Lived.
It seems...Harry thought bitterly, that there is a prophecy in this world after all and it targeted another person. This Petunia Potter seemed to be quite unaware of it, he would have to use scan her mind later to see if she was aware of a prophecy.
He needed information, it was essential. The Dark Lord would rise again and he was on a whole new battlefield.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry didn't expect any less. Albus would except no less then for her to be in the house of the brave...yet blindly led.
He would bide his time for now and find a way to influence the Slytherins to walk a road different from the Dark Lords. He would have to turn them away from their fates, especially that Malfoy. But even he knew that at this moment, he lacked the proper capital to influence anyone. He would have to do a lot of plotting tonight.
To achieve victory against the Dark forces, house unity was integral.
"Daniel Potter!"
"Another Potter?"
"I didn't know Petunia had a brother!"
He widened his eyes again. There was another Potter. How could this change the lay out of his plans? Were they twins? Well, the two certainly looked different. One had red hair and the other had black like his own. Was it possible that this boy would be the equivalent of him? If that was the case, then where did that leave him? Did he just take over some random boy's life? What the hell was going on?
"SLYTHERIN!"
...
Harry could not believe it. Though, if he thought of it logically, the boy was most likely overshadowed constantly by his sister as she is famous. He would naturally want nothing more than to overcome her fame with that of his own.
"What a mess." Harry thought to himself.
How was he going to take this on? Just the other day, he was just a regular boy from an orphanage. Now he had to somehow find a way to get involved in a war that would soon take over the world from the very beginning.
He needed more information before striking. Things were different, very different.
.
.
.
END
I need to address something. Ok, I'm sure that some of you may be confused. Who has the dominant conscience? Harry Potter or Harold Knight?
In the beginning, he's going to slowly except that it's both and his thoughts will become clearer by next chapter. I hope that my style of writing will soon reflect it. The beginning is always difficult for me so I can set up a plot. Thanks.
Oh, I may have made his Occlumency much better then what is true. His shields are sufficient enough to drive away a simple attack. But a full fledged one from Snape or Voldemort would crush him.
Oh and for those who were early, I changed Hermione to go to Gryffindor. Before, I wrote her to Ravenclaw but I changed it. It made no sense for me to even put her any where else.