Harry walked up to the stool quietly, desperately trying to ignore the mutters that arose from behind him. He shoved the hat on his head quickly and tried to ignore the ball of dread that he felt in his stomach. He was a wizard, he had every right to be here, he was going to get sorted damnit!
Except –
"DURMSTRANG INSTITUTE" said the booming voice from atop Harry's head. The hall fell silent. Harry's breath caught, he didn't think that was a house, maybe he had misheard?
McGonagall grabbed his arm and hauled him up and marched the poor boy into a side room that Harry hadn't noticed before. They were soon met with a tall man with a long beard, that Harry recognised as Dumbledore from the chocolate frog card and two other men – one short and jovial looking, and one tall and sulky. Harry wondered if they were as different in personality.
"Harry my boy," the man Harry assumed was Dumbledore said, "what did you say to the hat?" Harry blinked. He hadn't said anything, absolutely nothing since entering Hogwarts. The hat coughed from McGonagall's hands.
"The boy said nothing," the hat said now in a nasally voice from low down, "I decided I'm fed up with the nonsense surrounding the boy, and he'll be better off elsewhere." The tall sulky man sneered at the hat.
"I suppose we're not good enough, the fame's gone to his head already, poor little Potter." Harry looked on in bewilderment. He had no idea what was going on but it sounded like he'd just been insulted. Just as Harry, an 11 year old, was preparing the single most devastating retort worthy of a fanfiction author the small man piped up.
"Hat, what do you mean?" he gave the taller man a quelling look, that was met with an eye roll.
"I have a name." the nasally voice said. Everyone waited.
"Well, what is it?" McGonagall said impatiently and waved the hat a bit.
"Not going to say now!" the hat sulked. "And don't do that again!" Harry was having a hard time taking such a silly voice seriously. "Why is the boy still here? I said Durmstrang!" it whined. Dumbledore looked on gravely.
"My old friend, why would you send him away?" Dumbledore beseeched. "You know how important young Harry is to…" Dumbledore's eyes flicked between the company, "plans" he said emphatically.
"Sigh." The hat said without sighing. "You and your plans, and you still don't remember my name?!" the hat tried to sound indignant but it was once again was lost on Harry, who was too caught up on the voice and lack of context. "Besides, you don't know these kids like I do! All these kids could think of was Harry! Harry this! Potter that! Even the muggleborns were wondering about him! It was like sorting a bunch of Potterheads!" the nasally voice shrieked.
"Potterheads?" the small man wondered while the tall man choked on the phrase. Harry wondered if he had misheard as 'potheads' like he had.
"Never you mind!" snapped the voice. "Just send him away!"
And that's how Harry found himself standing in the freezing cold outside some gates leading up an ominous mountain path.
"What absolute fuckery is this," Harry thought to himself.
One long trip up a dark mountain and brief encounter with giant wolves later, Harry found himself seated in a study with an imposing looking man, leaning on his elbows. He stared at Harry.
Harry stared back.
"So," the man said with a slight accent that Harry couldn't place "you were kicked out of Hogwarts." A nod.
"As soon as you stepped in."
Nod.
"And sent here. From Hogwarts. With Dumbledore's blessing?"
Nod.
The man leant back with a grin, just as an eagle flew in with an official Hogwarts letter. The man's grin unfurled further as he read the contents. "Well!" he said standing quickly. Harry followed suit. "Welcome to Durmstrang! If you'll follow me," he lead Harry through a series of twisting passages and staircases, perhaps to confuse harry – no such luck as Harry was quite adept at memorising routes! Unfortunately Harry was not good at stopping and walked straight into the as-of-yet- unnamed man. The man gave Harry a Look through his bushy beard, and shoved the boy inside a small room.
The room was small, big enough to comfortably seat 3 Dursleys and not much else. The room held three books, one grey, one greyer, and one that was grey and sparkly. Harry was confused, and turned to ask what to do and found the door had vanished. He found it as peculiar as the room that appeared from no-where in Hogwarts, but shrugged his shoulders. Without turning around Harry picked a book at random. He looked at his choice and to his dismay it was the sparkly one.
"Don't worry lad," said the unnamed man. Harry jumped and turned to face him. He was smiling slightly. "The test isn't which book, the test is how you choose it." Harry frowned. That made no sense. There could be numerous ways to choose a book, but most people would do so randomly. As if sensing Harry's confused thoughts, the man chuckled and held a hand for Harry to shake. "The names Ludvig Boete, and I'm the unofficial Head Master. I'll show you to your rooms."
And that's how Harry found himself, still slightly confused, in front of roughly 500 students ranging from 10 years to 18. "Well," said Ludvig 'call me Vig' Boete clapping Harry on the back, "good luck!" and promptly ran for his life.
Harry gulped. If a man named Warrior Fighter was scared he would be too.
Turns out, it was all fine. Harry was quickly introduced to everyone by random people that Harry had dubbed Tall Guy.1 and Medium Height Girl.3. They were very nice, and had kindly given Harry a translation potion, but Harry was never any good with names and forgot them as soon as he heard them. In this way, Harry met many people who were all clamouring for his attention. Harry wondered around this JCR/mess hall in bemusement. It kept slipping his mind he was meant to be famous. All he really wanted to do was get away from the Dursleys and eat sweets in peace. When he told Blond Guy With Accent.4 this, several sticky sweets were shoved his way. Happily eating, Harry thought he could get used to this.
Harry did not get used to it. The next day, Harry had woken in his private room to find a schedule detailing a lesson plan. On the end, Ludvig had written a note. 'This only details your magical lesson plan. As you missed the entry speech, we expect you to maintain physical and emotional health in your own time. You'll find many friends here, but also enemies. Watch yourself, and do the best you can. Oh, and don't mention the book thing!' Harry read through with raising eyebrows. This was weirder than he expected.
Harry had arrived to a small classroom slightly out of breath. His first lesson was transfiguration, which was weird because he had the distinct feeling that would have been his first lesson at Hogwarts…. He shook of the feeling. Inside the room (which was also small, it was almost like the architects knew that smaller rooms would work better with Harry's aesthetic…) sat several students, all around Harry's age. He sat himself down at the back, and tried to pay attention to the rambling professor.
"Hey." A nudge at the shoulder.
"HEY" a much harder nudge made Harry turn to face a young looking Short Brunette Of Androgynous Features.6 who grinned at him. "What up?" Harry, who had no idea who this was, ignored them. This proved to be the wrong idea and SBoAF.6 took this to mean they could talk to Harry without interruption. Harry groaned internally.
One hour and 3 blown up desks later, a very tired Harry trotted off to the mess area for a well deserved break and to figure out what the actual fuck was going on.
Trouble was, SBoAF.6 found Short Blond Of Androgynous Features.8 (SBoAF.8) and they wouldn't stop pestering the poor boy. Luckily Tall Guy.1 from before came to his rescue. "Sorry about them," he smiled charmingly. "my younger siblings are a bit of handful." Harry blinked, as he had no idea that Tall Guy.1 and SBoAF.6 and SBoAF.8 were related in any way.
"Sure." Harry responded blandly and decided he better get to grips with his schedule. His classes (Transfiguration, Charms, Medical Potions, Potions, Medical, Defense, Offense, Runes and Herbology) were set out in regular blocks. Harry imagined this would help, as although he had flicked through his textbooks before going to Hogwarts he hadn't really understood what any of them were. Despite this, he started to pencil in study time and 'social' time. "More like nap time" Harry thought victoriously. Tall Guy.1 peered over and chuckled at the slowly filling timetable.
"You really think you'll get social time? We have to maintain physical health as well," he reminded Harry with yet another charming grin. If Harry had any idea of what a slash fic was, he would have been scared that this was beginning to sound like one, but he didn't so he wasn't. He did however start to pencil in block to maintain physical health. Harry frowned.
"How exactly do I maintain physical health?" Harry asked. Tall Guy.1 smirked. If Harry had been aware of slash fic at this point and was scared before, he would have been terrified now. Luckily, he still didn't and even he had, he would have been pleased to know Tall Guy.1 was only smirking because Harry was incredibly skinny and looked like he wouldn't stand a chance in the gym… or on any pitch.
"Oh," Tall Guy.1 said as sweetly as possible. "I'll show you."
This brings us to the present, October 30th. We find Harry on the Quidditch pitch pulling dangerous stunts on a breaking broom in order to save his life from the several bludgers that were after him. "I'll kill TG.1 for this" Harry fumed, his face streaked with rain.
Because it was raining. Naturally.
Harry finally managed to shake the murderous balls off his tail, and ran inside. As he dried off, he reflected on the last months, like any good protagonist should.
TG.1 walked in as Harry pulled a jumper on and ruffled his hair good naturedly. "How was it Munch?" he asked with a grin. Once it had gotten out that Harry point blank refused to remember names aside from Ludvigs's, the entire school had taken to calling him Munch. Harry had a funny feeling he would never be rid of that name.
"It was fine, TG.1, until you let loose the beaters bludgers!" he grumbled to the taller boy. "You know I'm a seeker!" TG.1 grinned even more.
"You needed motivation to go faster." He said simply before leaving again. Harry scowled. The school was weird, what with its hidden staircases that took a month alone to navigate, the giant hall that seemed to be never empty, the fact that Harry had yet to see a sunny day, the crazy teachers with crazier teaching methods (who sets fire to a person's hair to prove a point?!) and the odd sibling relationship that Harry had made with pretty much all students under 16, yet he wouldn't trade it for the world. "Well," he thought as he slowly made his way up to his room "I wouldn't mind less work."
Over time, Harry settled. His magic grew, as did his understanding. Anything that could be taught, Harry learnt eagerly. In another life, Harry would have made friends and enemies that held him back unconsciously. In another life, Harry would have excelled beyond measures and taken over the world. In another life, Harry wouldn't have magic. In this life, Harry was held back by only himself and put every effort on pushing himself. He spent his time reading, doing homework, and relaxing in the mess. Although he never learnt names, he gave affectionate nicknames to almost everyone: TG.1 and MHG.1 stuck, but SBoAF.6 became Frantic and her twin brother became Frenzy. As the classes were split on ability and drive, not age, the classes Harry remained dynamic. Every time someone new came in, Harry would try to learn from them – he wanted to know everything about this new world, and world that would never surprise him.
He had made friends with werewolves, mere-people, vampires and goblin folk. He learnt he was a Big Deal in Britain, that he had a talent for all things to do with air and fire, and that he loved magic.
Over Christmas, although the student population diminished somewhat, Harry had a pleasant time. Ludvig for some reason, along with many of Harry's new friends, had gotten Harry gifts. Although Harry has gotten his closer friends presents, he was touched at how many people thought of him. Alongside the mysterious cloak he was gifted from an unnamed source, Harry spent a memorable time at a huge feast and spent many hours discussing different Yule traditions with anyone he could get his hands on.
It was an incredible first Christmas.
Life went on. Harry began to make enormous strides in Defense, Offense and Runes, and was given the option of taking more electives. Harry chose Mind Arts and Duelling, and in his free time signed up for a cooking and gardening club. He made more friends, and ignored the occasional dull ache that plagued his scar, that No-one Was Allowed To Bring Up.
As summer rolled around, he began to worry – how could he go without learning new magic for 2 whole months? On his own? Sure, he could owl his friends (his snowy white owl had followed him and kept him company) or even text some of the more modern friends, but it wouldn't be the same. Luckily for him, Ludvig (who had apparently decided to mentor Harry, despite Harry not realising) gave him an idea.
"It's never too early to start learning to be an animagus!" said the older wizard with a grin. Harry found that hard to believe, with many texts suggesting there was an age limit. "Use your knowledge of the mind arts to focus on your soul, it should give you an indication of what animal you'll be." He motioned to a set of books on the topic that Harry glanced at. The two were seated in the room Harry had come to know as Ludvig's office, and rolled his eyes. Ludvig had an uncanny ability to always have the exact book you needed on hand at any point. "Oh, and before I forget – although your British ministry is against 11-17 year olds practising magic, they only track wands." He gave Harry a sly look. "No one can track wandless magic."
Which is how Harry came to ascertain his animagi form was a wolf. However he wasn't a wolf biologist and therefore had no idea what type of wolf, other than "wow I look like a wolf". If Harry was aware of fanfiction, he probably would have been disappointed at how basic that form was, but since he wasn't he couldn't be disappointed. Besides, he was 12. Being excited about wolves is pretty standard for 12 year olds.
Harry also became quite adept at basic wandless charms, much to his delight and horror of his relatives. Speaking of which, according to his new best friends and some books that magically tracd family lines, he was technically a lord and should have his own home. Harry leapt up off the bed as he remembered this, waved a hand to put all his items into his stuffed trunk and left the house with nary a thought.
Well, he did half heartedly shout a goodbye to his aunt but he was 90% sure it was ignored.
Harry, who had been a very good student and brushed up on many basic wizarding customs in Britain and the Scandinavian countries, and confidently hailed the knight bus.
Harry, approximately 10 minutes later, confidently swore to never get the knight bus if he could help it. He made his way to the goblins bank, and due to his interaction with many goblin children knew the correct way to greet a goblin.
"Hello! Could I please see someone about my accounts? I'm Harry, Harry Potter." Harry said as politely as he could. The goblin looked surprised a wizard knew how to correctly greet a goblin and immediately sent Harry to his manager.
"Hello! Could I" Harry started.
"Yes, yes, shut the door." Said a grumpy goblin. He waved Harry over from behind a stack of paper. The office room looked very much like a muggle's office cubicle, albeit much larger. This was lost on Harry, as he had never seen an office cubicle. The goblin peered at Harry. "Well, mister Potter? What is it?" Harry was expecting this question.
"I would like to know the status of my accounts, and if my parents left a will." Harry said as confidently as a pre-pubescent teenage boy could. The goblin rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Sure whatever, lets check… ah right. Your parents left no will, no idea why, and here is a statement containing your numbers." The goblin handed over a piece of parchment. Harry was slightly confused by the use of such outdated material but rolled with it. It seemed he was fairly wealthy, given his title of lord. He also owned two properties, one of which had been seized by the ministry for 'Historical Purposes'. Harry didn't mind. Having read up on his history, he gathered that Number 7 Godrics Hollow was where … it had happened. He sighed. "Guess I'll have to check out the place in Wales." Harry thought to himself, his mood damped. The goblin cleared his throat.
"Mister Potter, I take it you are aware you have a title?" Harry, somewhat aware of this, nodded. "Here is your ring, then we can take a look at the Potter Vault." Harry took the proffered box and opened it. Nestled inside on a soft cushion was, astonishingly, a ring. It was a gold band, with a medium sized red jewel placed in the middle. Holding it up to the light, Harry could make out a slight inscription around the ring: pro familia, pro virium. He felt a sudden rush of love for the family he would never know, and placed the ring on with pride.
In the vaults, the goblin showing Harry around (who he had dubbed Short But Angry) explained that although Hogwarts had no tuition fee, Durmstrang had a small price to pay each year – nothing Harry couldn't afford, SBA assured him, but Gringotts had set up a direct payment each year for him. Once they reached the Potter vault, Harry found himself, in a relative treasure trove of memories (and money.) Harry scooped as many coins as he could into his money pouch, and set off to find some keepsakes.
An armchair, portable library capable of holding 100 hardbacks that was half full and 2 family journals later, Harry, exiting the bank, decided he had better buy a new trunk to put it all in. As Harry paid for a 5 compartmented, lightweight and shrinkable trunk (trying to ignore the feeling he was in some way being basic yet again) he decided to buy some new clothes.
It was his birthday in a few days, he might as well treat himself.
Unfortunately, 'some clothes' turned into an entire wardrobe overhaul, an eye test and registering for kick boxing lessons. Harry would show TG.1 who was boss when school started.
Second year came and went. Ludvig had sent a portkey to bring Harry to the school, and he had settled in quickly. Whispers swept through the school of giant snakes appearing in toilets at Hogwarts, whispers that were ignored. Coincidentally, this was around the same time Harry discovered he could talk to snakes.
In another life, Harry would have been shunned for this ability. In another life, Harry would have discovered this years ago and have a snake familiar. In another life, snakes don't exist (probably). In this life, in a school where all magic was accepted in whatever form it exhibited itself, Harry was praised and teased as brothers and sisters will do. Of course there was tension, dark faces that warned Harry the world would get harder eventually – but that day was not today. Harry enjoyed the company, excelled in some classes, did worse in others. He maintained his kickboxing and began to hold his own when sparring with the older years, and made friends with Viktor Krum, the school Quidditch sensation. The two spent many weekends daring each other to fly higher, fall faster, and work harder. Harry also began to spend time working on his political understanding as he realised after a particularly brutal rebuke that he was a prominent figure in this world.
Of course, being 12, he didn't go much further than the basics. But it was something.
Days turned into months that turned into another year. Harry had finished with the Defense, Offense and Charms courses and moved onto Advanced Duelling alongside his basic Duelling class. Ludvig suggested Harry take part in a duelling competition the following summer. Harry was on the fence about doing so, when a peculiar request came in. It was from a Severus Snape, asking for Harry's help. It turns out, knowledge of Harry's parseltongue ability had reached Hogwarts and the rumours of giant snakes had not been exaggerated. Just as Harry decided he would go help, the letter turned into a portkey and Harry was dumped into a room in a much warmer, better lit castle. The tall man Harry could remember from 2 years ago was standing there, scowling.
"Well?" he barked. "Help!" Harry, more than slightly confused, decided to leave as quickly as possible.
At least, that was the plan, but a hissing through the walls attracted Harry's attention, and being a curious boy, he followed. He found himself in a flooded bathroom, and found the tap that water was coming from. As he turned it off, he noticed it had a small snake etched on. "Open," Harry hissed in the snake language. A tunnel opened. Harry peered down. "Stairs?" Harry suggested. Stairs appeared. Harry grinned and lit his wand as he ventured down. He found himself in a dark and dingy tunnel, and the light from his wand proved he wasn't the first to go down. Stepping gently over the various skulls, Harry made his way to a large circular door. "Open." Harry hissed again, and cautiously made his way through. He noticed a young girl slumped over next to a pillar. He rushed over, thanking the Powers That Be that he had worked hard on his Medical course as he quickly cast some basic healing spells on the girl.
"That won't help," said a soft voice. Harry spun around, his wand out, to see a ghostly figure. He was handsome, yet terrifying.
"Who are you?" Harry asked cautiously. The figure smiled slightly.
"Now, that is a question isn't it-"
"Yes it is because I just asked it." Harry didn't have time for this ridiculousness. The figure frowned.
"I had this whole reveal…" it sighed. "No matter. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as…." It waited, as if to make Harry panic. It didn't work. "…Voldermort."
Ah. Now it was time to panic.
"What did you do?" Harry asked furiously. Tom looked at the girl unconcerned.
"She was a vessel, nothing more. The idiot creature poured her little heart out to me, so I took it gladly and used it to make myself strong." Tom sneered at the dying girl, and a plan began to form in Harry's mind.
"What was with the rumours of a snake then?" Harry tried to stall for time and he figured out a weapon, but Tom grinned.
"I was hoping you'd ask that. Come to your master, and kill the other!" Tom let off a stream of hissing, and it was unfortunately answered. A giant beast, bigger than any Harry had seen came charging out of the pipes with such speed Harry had to drive out of the way.
In another life, Harry went into the chambers knowing full well it was a basilisk. In another life, Harry went to Beauxbatons and didn't learn of this mess at all. In another life, Harry wouldn't have cared. In this life, Harry began to swear.
"Fuck! OI! Watch it!" Harry yelled at the snake that missed menacingly in response. It began to smash pillars to hurt him, but Harry was no Hogwarts second year.
Curse after curse rebounded off the skin of the giant snake, with no effect other than frustrating Harry. He kept levitating the girl out of the way of the snakes path, but he was quickly losing hope. Just as the figure of Tom began to gain true mass, a shrill chirp came through the pipes. Unbidden, a voice from another time came flooding into Harry's mind: There will always be help at Hogwarts. A phoenix began to claw at the snakes eyes, and dropped the hat that sent Harry away into his hands. Unthinking, Harry plunged his hand in and drew out a long sword. Harry was glad of the occasional mock sword fight he and the other duellists took part in and he knew how to hold the sword now. As the snake opened its mouth to bite the red bird, Harry levitated himself and stabbed the snake through the mouth.
He was unfortunately as a result stabbed through the chest by a fang. As he fell to the ground, gasping for breath, he could faintly hear Tom crowing with victory. He turned his head. There, the notebook. Harry reached into his chest, pulled out the dagger and plunged it into the diary.
The last thing he heard before everything went dark was the sound of a soul dying, though he didn't know it yet.
Harry woke to in an unfamiliar white room, and a pounding headache. "Urrrrrh" he said most intelligently.
"Ah, Harry my boy! You're awake!" came a jovial voice from his left. Harry turned his head to find the voice, and another person pressed his glasses into his hand. As he put them on, Harry realised the short and tall men from his Unsorting were present, as were Dumbledore and Ludvig.
"What's going on?" Harry asked slowly. Ludvig, despite being a kind-hearted person most days, looked the angriest Harry had ever seen. Dumbledore looked a little sheepish, and twirled his wand anxiously.
"Well my boy, it seems one of our staff," he cast a pointed look at the tall man that Harry realised was the Snape that wrote to him, "decided you would be the best bet at fixing our little... ah serpentine issue." The wizened wizard said, eyes twinkling. Harry gave him a look that said 'No shit Sherlock' before asking the same question to Ludvig.
"You were hurt. If not for the phoenix tears, you would have died." The man said stiffly. Harry digested this.
Now, Harry had been in infirmaries before. Quidditch was a dangerous sport, and mixing an icy and badly lit castle with an accident prone child results in many bumps, bruises and occasional break. However Harry had never had a skirmish with death before.
Something told Harry this wasn't the last time.
Harry spent the summer recovering from the battle with the Basilisk, as he learnt it was called. The house his parents owned was located near Caernarfon, Wales. It was a simple two story house, with fields and fields of land. Harry fell in love with the house immediately. After some arguing, Harry became the owner of the Basilisk corpse and sold the highly valuable skin and venom for a decent bit of money. The goblins were pleased with this bit of business, and Harry realised he would have to think of a job sooner or later. He decided on later.
The young boy spent the summer once again training in wandless magics, now improving his defense and duelling spells. He did his homework, cooked and cleaned, and rented out field space to farmers. He exchanged letters with his various penpal friends, and added the girl from the chamber (he dubbed her Red) to his list. She had seemed surprised but happy with the letters, and asked if he could write to her friend Luna too. He did, and to his surprise found he enjoyed her nonsensical letters.
That summer was almost too good to be true, so Harry wasn't surprised when he received several worried letters alongside the paper which told him the man who betrayed his parents had escaped the worst prison on earth.
The universe is about balance, you know.
Harry read through the various and many letters and articles he suddenly received with consideration. "Well," Harry said calmly to his sleeping owl. "I think I'll go see if I can find him."
Luckily for all involved parties, the man named Sirius had a similar idea. Despite Harry's initial wariness upon meeting him, the man seemed honest and genuine. Together, they came up with a plan to clear the innocent man's name.
Which is how a very shocked group of students found themselves travelling to Hogwarts that September first, with the sudden knowledge that Sirius Black was wrongfully imprisoned (compensated hugely) and the real mad man was overlooked Peter Pettigrew. After reading the expose (and detailed description) on the man and his animagus form, a certain red-headed boy glanced down at the sleeping rat on his shoulder and turned a tad green. "Hermione," he choked, "mind casting a spell for me?"
Which is how Wormtail was imprisoned, and Harry spent the school year feeling very smug. TG.1 thought the smugness would wear off when Viktor took the spotlight as he became one of the youngest professional Quidditch players, but the smugness remained. When questioned why, Harry simply gave a rather wolfish grin.
Due to the difference in teaching styles, Harry was now at the point where he, like many others, could take O.W.L.S. As Harry didn't live in continental Europe, he was expected to take the O.W.L.S like any other Hogwarts student. Although Harry did plan to take the 5 exams set at the end of his time at Durmstrang that certified his ability for a job of his chosing, he still had to prove to the British Ministry that he could meet their pathetically low standards (in the opinion of many Swedish natives).
It was with a heavy heart Harry left school early to stay at the school that didn't want him to take 5 O.W.L.S in Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions. Harry breezed through, and managed to meet with Red and White, the two girls he had been writing to in the year below. They introduced him to many others, all of whom Harry promptly forgot. He liked the Twins, F and G who seemed pleasantly surprised he could tell who was F and who was G. When Harry realised this, he rolled his eyes. He couldn't remember names, not faces. Harry also met a man named Lupin, who seemed to know him. After some awkward conversations, Harry realised he along with Sirius had been friends with his parents. Harry agreed to keep in touch, although he was becoming concerned with how many people he was writing to on a regular basis. Honestly, the day the wizarding world as a whole accepted mobile phones was the day he would be happy.
Harry did not have an easy summer. For one, Ludvig and now the small man from Harry's Unsorting (who introduced himself as Flitwick) were determined Harry would not go to waste and put him into a duelling circuit. He did quite well, coming 4th overall in the competition. Considering he was up against old timers, and 200 of them, Harry thought he had done pretty well. Sirius apparently agreed, who had decided his first act as god-father (after a stint of recovery – PTSD doesn't go away with a wave of a wand) was to buy Harry the best broom on the market as a reward, and take him and Lupin to the Quidditch World Cup. It was hosted not too far from where Harry lived, so he invited his two god-fathers to stay with him.
The match itself was amazing. Harry took the time to chat to the Bulgarian officials in their own language, thanks to the potion he had taken in first year. The British Minister, Toffee or something had tried to use Harry's language ability to his advantage but failed spectacularly after saying "Just tell this idiots I'm complimenting them, they'll believe it" only to find the Bulgarians could speak English. Toffee was quiet after that.
Harry cheered for Viktor and laughed along with the others in the top box at the antics of the leprechauns, and was amused when the younger members of the Weasley clan fell under the allure of the Veela. Harry was used to ignoring the effect; the vampires at his school had a similar ability.
Harry was not amused when Death Eaters attacked. He had been spending some time with the Weasley clan ("It's the least we can do, you saved our little girl!") when screams filled the air. Everything was chaos for a brief moment, and many teenagers found safety in the woods. A Dark Mark was cast –
In another life, Harry would be accused of casting the mark. In another life, Harry might have been the one to cast it. In this life, an ashen man with straw coloured hair was found unconcious underneath the mark with a stunned elf beside him. Teeth marks were found on his legs, and claw marks on his arms. What was most interesting, was the fact he was meant to be dead.
First a Potter goes to Durmstrang, then a wanted criminal breaks out of the most secure prison on earth only to be proven innocent, now a dead man walking? The press were having the times of their lives.
Fourth year should have been a breeze. Harry had finished most basics and was now taking Advanced Mind Arts, Advanced and Basic Duelling, Basic Medical, Advanced Transfiguration and Spell Crafting. The last was a mix of runes, arithmancy and language, so Harry resigned himself to learning Ancient and Modern Greek, Japanese, Latin and Gaelic the hard way. He had also decided to take the muggle qualifications when he found the time, in between his various studies, kickboxing and Quidditch fun.
All his plans were blown out the water when it was announced that Durmstrang was competing in the Triwizard Tournament, along with Beauxbatons and hosted at Hogwarts. Harry sighed. That school couldn't let him go.
It was one of the rare occasions that brought the 'Official' Head out of hiding, Igor KarKaroff, to present an united front. Harry, alongside the majority of the school, didn't like the man, but said nothing as he explained how the ship would work. The entire school would board it, and use it to travel. After the welcoming and introductory speech, they ship would act as a giant portkey to their rooms. It was a little more complex than that, but Harry was now itching to get a look at the runes on the boat and practise his French on the many new females he was about to meet – hey, he was 14 now. What 14 year old doesn't want to impress their desired sex?
The feast was impressive, mostly because Harry was able to eat some more treacle tart, a delicacy introduced to him when he took his O.W.L.S. As he munched happily, he looked around. In his opinion, although the Grand Hall was far more impressive appearance wise, he preferred the mess hall back home. Even for Harry, who took a while to pick up on social things, could tell there was a tension between tables. Harry knew from the letters with Red and White that House conflict was an accepted and expected thing here, yet another reason Harry was glad the hat had kicked him out.
The month passed and months tend to do. Harry spent more time with Ludvig, who was his Advanced Mind Arts tutor. It seemed to him that Ludvig was worried about something, but wouldn't tell Harry what. That was fine, Harry had enough drama to deal with.
[You may think, what drama could Harry possibly be dealing with? My answer: have you MET a teenager? Put a bunch of them in a room? And left them to take care of themselves? Shit gets real, and Harry ended up being a confused shoulder to cry on more times than he'd admit. ]
Finally, Halloween came around. All Durmstrang students over 14 were allowed to attend, unless they had permission that said otherwise. The 3 schools waited with baited breath for a semi-sentient object to pick 3 students for fortune and glory. With a puff, four pieces of parchment sailed into their air. Murmurs arose from the crowd, shouldn't there only be three? Dumbledore read the names out.
"Viktor Krum!" Cheering from his friends and fans came from all over the room, and Harry beamed at someone who he had grown surprisingly close to. Viktor made his way into the waiting room Harry had been Unsorted in so few years ago.
"Fleur Delacour!" Shrieks of delight from the French wizards and witches were met with over enthusiastic cheers from many boys, and several girls. As the girl made her way to the room, Harry noticed there were several sulky French witches, but no wizards seemed that sad.
"Cedric Diggory!" After a short pause before the house with yellow ties gave a deafening roar and cheered as a tall blond boy made his way almost sheepishly to the waiting room.
Dumbledore waited before he uncurled the last piece of paper. The tension was almost stickier than the treacle tart Harry was trying to inconspicuously bite into.
"Harry Potter!" All eyes turned to the Boy-Who-Lived, Basilisk-Slayer, the youngest professional duellist since Filius Flitwick - who currently had a face full of pastry.
"Oh fuck" thought Harry.
Time, as it is wont to do, passed. After an eventful night, filled with raised eyebrows, heightened tensions and several frowning faces, Harry's schedule returned to normal. He went to his many lessons via the ships portkey, flew with friends (both at Durmstrang and his friends from Hogwarts ) and made fun of TG.1 whenever he could. Harry kept his mind art sessions with Ludvig going, and life continued as normal.
Normal.
Harry sighed, sitting back from his desk. He knew a lost cause when he saw it – both with this particular runic puzzle and his previous relatively calm life. Much like when he had started, Harry was followed by whispers that wouldn't let him be. Not only that, but from the many people he wrote or texted with were sending him messages laden with worry. Red seemed to think Harry was in grave danger, and kept asking him if he was ok – as he wasn't the one who saved her singled-handed from a giant snake! Harry would've been more indignant if her concern wasn't out of love. In fact, a small part of Harry appreciated the (unneeded) concern shown by most people, but Harry, being a teenage boy, decided to be annoyed by it for the most part.
He missed being able to tease older students, and not have them sneer at you and mutter something about 'fame' and 'heads'. He wanted to fly with Viktor, but the man was avoiding Harry like the plague. He wanted one letter to land on his desk that didn't contain the words 'Are you ok?'. He wanted to get the first task over, damnit. He hadn't entered his fucking name, he hadn't wanted this stress yet everyone assumed he had somehow got around the restrictions.
It was maddening.
In another life, Harry would have spent those months isolated. In another life, Harry would have orchestrated the entire thing, just for fun. In another life, someone drops out after the first task.
In this life, during that cold November morning, Harry faced the Hungarian Horntail. Somehow, he was the only one to not know what the task entailed, as the three elder students realised to their horror in that tent. While they waited to be called out, none of them could look Harry in the eye.
When it was Harry's turn, he suddenly realised he had no plans to cope with the situation. Harry didn't live at Hogwarts, and therefore couldn't summon a broom. He didn't want to hurt the dragon either and therefore couldn't use any offensive spells.
So did the unthinkable, and asked politely.
Much to the amazement of a dragon-fearing crowd, the dragon warily allowed the young wizard to take the fake egg, before settling down and falling asleep to protect her remaining children.
Harry won 5 points from each judge and didn't care to hear the reasons. It put him in last place, but he wasn't bothered. Apparently, his use of 'dark' magic had opened the eyes of many light wizards to how useful grey magics were, and opened the eyes of many others to see that Potter would be a force to reckon with one day.
Harry tried his best to ignore that, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched by everyone. In an attempt to hide from it, Harry focused on his studies, figuring out the puzzle (which turned out to be simple given that his language potion from first year helped him translate the Mermish riddle instantly) and avoiding pretty much everyone.
Finally TG.1 corned Harry just before he could enter his room on day.
"What the hell man?" Harry asked angrily to the (still) taller boy.
"What the hell? Munch, what the hell's going on with you?" TG.1 asked, equally angry. Harry looked away, but TG.1 continued. "You barely show up to kick-boxing, you train only at night, I don't think I've seen you stay longer in the mess hall than 5 minutes, you don't even fly anymore! Look, even Viktor misses you!" Harry flinched and pulled his arm away, mumbling something under his breath. TG.1 glared. "What was that?"
"I don't care!" Harry burst out, face red. "I just – I don't – everyone is – fuck, just – GO AWAY!" Harry yelled at TG.1 as if on the verge of crying. TG.1 crossed his arms and pulled a face. Harry sighed and let him in. They sat opposite each other, with Harry staring melancholy out of a window.
"It's just-" Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do. I mean… I've done my OWLs, I could just move back to Britain." Harry missed the way the older boy tensed at those words.
"But, I wouldn't have a job, I wouldn't see you guys and I want to stay and learn here," Harry gestured around, "I'm just over this!" He stood up and started to pace slightly. TG.1 remained silent. "I mean, it was one thing to be upset before the first task, but now it's done why don't people get I don't care about it? I just want to learn, the stupid tournament can go fuck itself, and Viktor? If he misses me so badly, why doesn't he say anything? He's the one who ignored me in the first place! And you know what, I've had it up! To! here! With everyone constantly asking if I'm ok, like I'm going to drop any minute. And then carrying on like everything's normal, like I'm not getting mountains of mail either yelling at me or threatening me or asking for money, or thinking I planned it and hate me or know I winged it and hate me. Just – leave me alone. I'm fine." Harry glared out the window, looking frustrated. TG.1 sat for a minute, studying the young boy he had mentally adopted. He sighed, stood up and turned Harry to face him.
"Harry," TG.1 said gently with his hand resting on Harry's shoulders, "grow the fuck up. I mean," he said to Harry's angry face, "accept the facts of life and get on with it. You've got a good thing going here. Don't blow it. People keep asking if you're ok because you don't act if you're ok, moron. Don't focus on what other people say, just listen to us, your friends. Think this over later, and come to dinner." Without waiting for a reply, TG.1 pulled Harry out of his room, and Harry felt a great weight in his chest lessen slightly.
The Yule Ball took placethe evening of the 21st, and in the Hogwarts grounds. As Harry waited nervously with the other champions for his date to arrive, he started to chat to Viktor about Quidditch. Viktor, recognising the olive branch for what it was, eagerly pounced on the topic. Cedric soon joined in out of curiosity, and Fleur (after realising they weren't acting on her allure and swallowed her pride) soon began regaling the group of the many misadventures she and her younger sisters would get up to in the summer together. Their dates found them laughing, all comfortable to be around each other. Roger Davies sat himself between Harry and Fleur in an act of male dominance that backfired horribly as Fleur talked over his head in fluent French to a laughing Harry. He had brought Red as his date, who informed him White had been taken by a shy boy called Neville. Harry decided to dance with as many people as possible, and after the meal and first awkward dance, Harry spun around the floor with anyone and everyone.
His hours spent on etiquette weren't solely focused on words, you see, and Harry had found he had a flair for rhythm. He danced with all his friends from Drumstrang, Hogwarts, and as many of Fleur's friends as he could.
Harry, needing a break, flopped into a seat next to a scowling red-head, who he assumed was a Weasley. Harry noticed he was glaring at Viktor's date.
"Hey, man," Harry asked out of breath, "what's your problem?" the red-head (who looked increasingly familiar) grunted. "Look, mate, your sister's my date, so I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here, but can you use words?" The red-head (that Harry knew he knew but couldn't place) turned and scowled at Harry.
"Famous Potter come to brag? Got fame, money and a date? What, dance floor not enough to show off your skills?" the boy sneered at Harry, who frowned in response. The sneering boy in question remembered at this point his sister not shutting up about how her famous pen-pal was becoming a recognised duelist…
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I have no idea who you are. I'm sure we've met but I forgot you. I'd say sorry, but that would be a lie. I just wanted to know why you were glaring daggers into my friends back." The red-head looked confused, and Harry turned and waved toward Viktors back. "You know, him, what's wrong with hi- oh…." Viktor spun his date around, and Harry realised the problem. He smirked. "You know," Harry said to the red-head, "if you want to talk to a pretty girl, it's best to talk to her, and not glare as if you found her covered in slime." Leaving a disgruntled teenage boy, Harry left and enjoyed the party.
The second task came around on a cold February afternoon. Harry waited calmly next to the panicking Hufflepuff. "Calm down Cedric," Harry murmured to his opponent. "Nothing bad will happen, this thing's too tightly regulated for that." Cedric nodded at Harry's words but didn't look reassured. Harry rolled his eyes. In the two months he'd spent getting to know the other champions, he quickly realised there was no one who worried more than Cedric. Reassuring him that his girlfriend, Cho or something, was fine would be useless.
As Ludo Bagman read out the rules, one of the ministry officials placed a charm on each of the contestants. A small device would have the same charm applied, and would follow each of them and project their progress on the screen to avoid complete boredom for the spectators. Harry was startled out of his musings on the charms of such device by the sudden cheering of the crowd. He shoved the gillyweed he had bought from his potion supply into his mouth and dived in. After the effects set in, he cast a charm to find what he'd sorely miss.
A few brief scuffles later, Harry found himself in what he assumed was a mer-person courtyard, in which 4 large slabs of rock were situated. Tied to them were a younger-looking version of Fleur, the girl Viktor danced with at the party, Cedric's girlfriend and TG.1. Harry froze in his tracks, as he realised he hadn't actually seen him for the past 2 days. Harry swam over quickly and used a cutting charm to cut the chains. Just as Harry was about to leave with his friend, Cedric swam by and grabbed his girlfriend. Through the bubbles, Harry could make out the boy mouthing 'hurry' before fleeing, confused, Harry began to swim away when Viktor swam in. His partially complete transfiguration helped him cut the chain and free his date, but the air bubbles made were enough to wake the small girl up. As shark-Viktor swam away with his person in his arms, Harry rushed to the drowning girl and cast a warming and bubblehead charm on her. She looked terrified, and Harry frantically looked around for Fleur to show, but when no movement came from the murky darkness, Harry unchained the girl and brought her to the surface too.
In this instance, Harry got top marks from 5 judges, and 8 points from Karkoroff (who was unimpressed by his use of magic). He got top place in the round, and was tied with Cedric in second overall. He found out that the little girl was Fleur's sisters, and if he hadn't acted when he did there was a chance that she would not have survived.
Magic is amazing, but it can't bring back the dead.
Either way, Fleur declared herself in his debt, which is how Harry found himself an invitation to stay in France over the summer.
Due to how shaken all the contestants were, a collective party for them all was thrown in the Beauxbaton carriages that seemed to expand as much as one could ever need. As bonding exercises go, it resulted in many new-found friendships and went down as a highlight of the year.
For Harry, it went down as the first time he got blackout drunk. The next few weeks were made hellish by his friends mocking him for it, and TG.1 constantly referring to himself as 'Harry's most prized friend'. It was annoying, but Harry allowed it if only for the note of pure happiness he heard in TG.1's voice every time he said it.
Harry continued with his lessons. He had finished basic Duelling and Medical (finally) and was allowed to take Advanced Potions. Unknown to Harry, when a certain someone found out about this, the 3rd and 4th year students were subjected to a particularly irate potions master for a few weeks. Harry progressed in his studies, continued learning about muggle sciences and courses, and read up on the many, many wizarding laws.
"Hey, Vig?" Harry asked his mentor after one of his mind arts sessions, "I am emancipated, right?" Ludvig grinned.
"Why, Harry," he exclaimed. "you didn't know? You were emancipated as soon as you were picked, if not legally then by magic." Harry considered this.
"How do I get considered legally? How does the magic one even work?"
"Here, it's always an age thing. But over in Britain, if you have a title then you are legally emancipated as soon as you enter an official courtroom, regardless of the situation. It's an odd law, but no-one's really ever wanted to repel it." Ludvig shrugged. "The magic one is a bit odd – it has to be an official magical scenario, something something binding, something power." Harry stared at the man.
"You don't know do you."
"No. Your Ministry keeps that sort of thing secret, in some mystery department or wherever." Harry rolled his eyes. He basically needed to get into a courtroom then.
The third task took the form of a giant maze. Once again, the visual devices were attached to each contestant, and the crowd was deafening. Harry felt mostly confident; he was almost looking forward to the challenge. Cedric stood looking very determined, Viktor's stoic face betrayed how nervous he was, and Fleur was nervously rocking on the balls of her feet. Harry rolled his eyes at them. They were the ones to ask for this, not him, and look at them!
Viktor went in first, followed by Harry and Cedric 7 minutes later. Harry's tactic was to wander around and see what happened. With this method, he fought 2 boggarts (both turning into an image of him standing alone, defenceless), a good amount of monster bushes, a large tiger and several giant, angry lobster-crab…things. Harry was sure they had to be a hybrid, having never heard of such monsters before. He also met a sphinx, that asked him 3 basic riddles instead of one hard one.
That was the easy stuff.
The hard part was watching his imperiused friend attack his unsuspecting friend. Harry had knocked Viktor far more easily then he'd ever done in a practise duel, cast a safety charm over his two sleeping friends before sending red sparks so their location could be found. Harry gave one last, concerned look, before running off. He was worried, even after being cursed Viktor should have put up a better fight. Either his friend was sloppier than he let on, or Harry was part of a plan. Harry liked neither thought.
"Harry, watch out!" a voice cried out, interrupting his thoughts which Harry also didn't like.
Harry liked the giant spider in front of him even less.
Transfiguring a long stick from the ground into a sword, Harry began to help Cedric fight the acromantula that blocked the entrance to the middle of the maze. "Together!" Harry shouted to Cedric, and they both banished the spider, knocking it out. Breathing heavily, the two boys stumbled towards the cup. "Cedric," Harry said tiredly "I know you want the cup. But do you mind if we both grab it? It's a portkey and I can't be bothered to walk all the way back. You can have the win, I just want to sleep." Cedric opened his mouth to argue, but closed it as he considered the offer. Whilst he didn't feel like he won, Harry had made it abundantly clear the whole time he didn't want to win. He probably wasn't lying. Cedric looked at the cup. The basic runes to make a portkey were etched along the stand that held the cup. He sighed and looked at Harry.
"Come'on then," he grinned at Harry. "let's get back."
The pair were dropped down in what seemed to be a forest. Harry frowned and looked at Cedric.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked. Cedric frowned and shook his head.
"I don't understand, maybe it's part of the task? But why a graveyard, I've never seen one around Hogsmeade…" Cedric trailed off, as they both began to make their way around the headstones.
In another life, someone dies in the graveyard. In another life, the graveyard is left undisturbed. In another life, Harry never learnt about magic.
In this life, Harry saw the green light going towards his friend, and unthinking cast a banishing charm at him. Cedric was thrown back and landed on the portkey. As Harry watched him disappear just before the killing curse hit him, he was stunned and fell back. When he woke up he was chained to a tomb.
"I know you weren't expecting this, Potter," a silken voice said, "but I must admit… neither was I." A tall man stepped out of the shadows and took off his hood. Harry's eyes widened. Although he had never met the man, or his son, he had heard of the family from Red and read about them in political history books enough to recognise the man who stood in front of him.
"Nott?" Harry asked quietly. The man smirked.
"Yes, indeed… I am surprised that you didn't assume I was the blond prat, but then again, you don't go to Hogwarts do you?" Nott mused. "No, you would not have those prejudices I supoose…" Harry let the man talk, trying to figure out where he was, and how he could get out. Nott caught him craning his neck to look around the man. He chuckled.
"Ah, silly me, rambling on. Let's get down to business, shall we?" Nott moved forward and quickly sliced Harry's hand.
Of course, we all know that cutting the palm is the least effective and most painful way to draw blood. Unfortunately for Harry, Nott did not know this, and sliced up Harry's hand anyway.
"Dude," Harry tried to say as Nott stood silently waiting for enough blood to trickle into a bowl, but it sounded more like "duuuuuurh".
Once satisfied, Nott waved his wand and summoned a bone from somewhere behind Harry. He placed that and the blood in a cauldron and began to chant
vivifica
hostili cruore
Et os furto sublatus
rursus.
Understandably, Harry began to freak out a bit, what with all the ominous chanting in a graveyard and the fact he was chained to a tombstone with no way out.
He freaked out more when a tall, naked man rose up out of the cauldron with no warning. The man had an angular face, and red eyes, and looked around in a regal manner.
"Robe me," the man said softly. Nott rushed forward and handed the man a thick black robe, which was put on very slowly.
Harry rolled his eyes. Why were all antagonists so dramatic?
"Harry Potter," the man said quietly, now robed and standing on the wet grass. Harry stared back impassively. "The Boy-who-Lived…. Look how far you have fallen." The man studied Harry for a bit longer before turning to Nott.
"Nott! Have you summoned the other yet?" The man barked.
"My lord, I have not" Nott said, bowing. Harry's brows rose. 'Lord'? Was this…. Could it be?
"Oh Nott…" the man sighed. "I would kill you but you alone remained faithful. Pass me your arm." The man jabbed the sycophant in the arm with his wand, and turned back to Harry.
"You know, this would've been much easier if you hadn't caught Barty." The man continued conversationally. Harry decided that whoever it was standing in front of him suffered from mood-swings. "He could've done this much better, and wouldn't have minded using the other ritual…." The man trailed off and sighed. "But this is what you get for existing as an incorporeal being for a decade." The man smiled somewhat ruefully.
Conveniently, a bunch of masked figures suddenly appeared, encircling the graveyard so Harry didn't have to think of something witty to say in response.
"Master!" gasped one of the cloaked people, as they all fell to their knees. "It's been so hard without you!" their hand flew to their forehead in a delicate position. "However can we atone!"
The man standing in the middle sighed irritably.
"Shutup Lucius ." he snapped, and the melodramatic man fell silent. The others snickered. "Now, I've called you all here for a reason." He paused dramatically. "It's time we rose up again! For too long, our ideals have been shunned and we must take a stand!" The crowd cheered and Harry rolled his eyes. Yet another reason he was happy to have left Britain – he might've been drawn into this supremacy nonsense.
He sighed as the man (dubbed Drama Queen, or DQ in Harry's mind) launched into another spiel about the importance of blood and other stupid things, and tried to loosen the chains binding him to the tombstone.
Harry had the bright idea to cast a spell to free him from the chains. However, being a 15 year old in a stressful situation, he didn't think of everything and forgot to cast it silently.
"Solvo bindus mi!" Harry cast in his mind, which fortunately worked and freed him.
Unfortunately, it worked by causing the chains to explode, which is how Harry found himself facing his supposed enemy, encircled by a group of half-hysterical supporters.
"Fuckity Fuck" thought Harry frantically, as DQ opened his mouth to say something scathing. "Shiting bricks what the fuck?!" Harry started throwing out combat spells, completely disregarding his dueling training.
(He was panicking, cut the kid some slack.)
What followed was an intense dual, one best left to the imagination and not to a teenage author. Harry felt himself weakening, but continued to fight – DQ's followers were cheering on their master, but didn't seem to be taking any action.
"Perhaps they want him to fail," Harry thought in the back of his mind. "Well, if they aren't prepared…" and began to curse them as well. Understandably, they were shocked at first by this audacity, but fought back with all they had – which was comparably a lot more than a 15 year old had, even a powerful one.
But as luck (or a lazy author) would have it, a spell from Harry's wand connected with one from DQ's. A bright light joined the two wands, and caused the two welders to levitate slowly off the ground.
"Stay back!" cried DQ, with only a trace of fear, "this fight is for me and the boy!" Harry rolled his eyes, but kept an eye on the light. If he didn't know better, he'd say that something was coming out of the light….
DQ sucked in a breath as a ghostly figure exited from the stream of light, and took the form of a young woman. Harry squinted at her, there was something about her face that seemed familiar… and then it clicked.
"Mum?" Harry croaked, not taking his eyes off the lady. She nodded, sadly, and moved towards Harry. Cupping his face in her cold, barely there hands, Harry heard a voice in his mind say Do not be afraid, dear. You've done all you need to, leave the rest to us. Harry could only stare as the woman was joined by taller figure, and they both moved onto DQ.
The man let out a terrible scream.
In another life, Harry get's away from this battle by pure luck. In another life, a wizard named Tom Riddle is killed at birth by a bitter time-traveller. In another life, magic and ghosts and destiny does not exist.
In this life, there is no prophecy: just mad ravings of desperate people, coincidence and luck.
The connection cut out, and Harry dropped to the floor. More lights sped towards the screaming man, still suspended in the air, writhing in pain. Every time a light hit the man, the bright light would get brighter and bigger, until a perfect sphere was formed. Harry shielded his eyes as the man gave one last, terrible scream before disappearing suddenly along with the sphere of light.
Darkness enveloped the graveyard. Harry lay panting on the ground, exhausted and confused. He could make out the shapes of the death eaters, unmoving and scattered around. With a groan, Harry stood up and cautiously made his way over to them. Approaching Nott first, Harry moved the man's sleeve up and gasped.
The dark mark had faded, but left a burn scar in its place. Harry winced. It looked quite painful. He straightened up and sighed. He had no idea where he was, no idea how he could get home or what to do about the several unconscious terrorists surrounding him.
Although….
To say the magic folk gathered at Hogwarts were in uproar would be an understatement. It'd been going so well, everyone enjoying the drama of who would win when the two remaining competitors had disappeared from school grounds. For a moment everyone was quiet, either thinking that it was part of the tournament or a trick Harry had pulled. But as the crowd grew restless, and the teachers worried, Cedric appeared on the victory stands – alone. As the Hogwarts students began to cheer, Cedric dropped the portkey and ran to the teachers. After mumbling quietly, the boy, Dumbledore, Karkoroff, Ludvig, Madame Maxime and a few other staff members quickly left for the castle, leaving the crowd restless and peeved.
They got even more so when it was announced Something Had Gone Terribly Wrong, if they could all Sit Tight and Not Cause A Fuss. Somehow it got spread around that Harry had been kidnapped and saved Cedric as his last act – which gave the conglomerate of magic folk a lot to gossip about.
"I knew Dumbledore wanted him dead-"
"Mark my words, he's dead and we're all freezing out arses off while they think of a lie-"
"Ha, I bet this is a stunt-"
"What if it's true-"
"What if it isn't-"
"Place your bets! Harry Potter, dead or alive? Going odds are-"
"Quiet you! How can you even-"
The crowd was abruptly silenced as a bus appeared with a bang onto the school grounds. A dazed Harry Potter stumbled off, followed by a string of levitating bodies – their chests steadily rising and falling, but otherwise immobile.
The silence didn't last.
****3 years later****
Harry stepped out of the castle he had called home for the last 7 years of his life. He took a deep breath.
The real fun could begin.
AN: hullo
I'm sure you can tell, but I kinda gave up halfway through writing this. I started a year ago, got this far and can't remember what i planned/lost my plan. I'm sure you're equally distraught. Anyhoo, this is the last thing I'll be posting on here - it's been fun.
If you want any translations for the spells, google is your friend.
and if anything doesn't make sense, or you're confused... me too pal. have a nice night now.