DISCLAIMER: I do not own or make any profit from Harry Potter stories. They Belong to J.K. Rowling. Anything you recognise is hers.
A/N:
I apologise for any typing errors, please inform me if you find any.
I'm writing this for myself, so if you dont like it I wont upload anymore (though that wont stop me from writing).
Any ways Enjoy
~Unsighted-Demon~
Ch I
The room was as quiet as the death itself when it comes to take you to the afterlife. There were no sounds inside to mask another's presence, you could not hide there. And no one would because of the feeling of coldness running down the walls meeting in the centre of the room and rising towards the ceiling, giving that uneasy feeling you get, when you think something's not right. Yet at the same time you can not explain that odd sensation.
The open ash colored window frames with the glass peaces no longer in them, now broken and adoring the floor beneath, let the amber light of the afternoon pass through. And yet it was still cold inside. Nothing could warm it anymore; nothing could warm the entire wizarding world because of the still continuing war. And the man that sat on the four-poster bed, its cold mattress uneven, the heavy curtains already colorless and the bed sheets yellowed, was looking blindly outside the window knowing that truth.
Once well known 'Leaky Cauldron' was nothing but ruins now, and the room he was in held the memories of his summer away from Dursleys before his third school year.
They were such a horrible people to him. And when he was at school, no matter if it was muggle or wizarding; he could do nothing to change that. No one believed him, and when they did in his primary school Dursleys lied to the officials that they never hurt him. And since his magic healed him by the time someone came to check on him he was all right and well and so called a liar.
He lost hope. No one could blame him for that, but when he learned he was a wizard, with a whole world waiting for him with an opportunity to have a happy life, his hope bloomed a new. He told Dumbledore, the Headmaster of his new school, about the treatment he received while at Dursleys, but even then he would receive a smile and words saying that "There is no need to exaggerate, Harry. Surely it's not that bad?"
He felt like the man had punched him in his gut. There was nothing he could do about it at the time because He forgot about the encounter in the first place. Legilimency was used on him by the esteemed Dumbledore to make him forget. He couldn't tell then, but now, when he achieved power that wizards compared to Dumbledores and lately Voldemorts, now that he mastered mind arts he could find every thought that the Headmaster, he once considered a grandfather, took away from him.
He was only a puppet to the old man. And Harry was furious when he learned the betrayal, the deviousness of the man. If it wasn't for Albus he would have been himself when in school, he would have been in Slytherin, he would have been happy.
He would have learned everything there was to learn of both sides before making his choice.
But no- the choice was taken away from him. The night Voldemort killed his parents he was killed as well, but not by the same man, by Dumbledore himself. He was an empty shell and nothing more.
After the Headmaster died he obediently followed his orders. The influence strengthened by magic was not something he could break away from at that time. He finished the task Albus gave him and after killing Voldemort he felt so lonely and empty, like he killed a peace of himself, no mater how bizarre it sounded even to him, not that he told any one about the feelings he had. He had a theory that it was because Voldemort resurrected himself using his blood. But he doubted that was the reason. Harry still couldn't explain it, but he knew he made a mistake even when his mind was not his but still Dumbledores as well.
He sighed and lay on his back in the hauntingly empty room. His eyes unseeing and still lost in the memories slowly closed as another sigh escaped his lips.
Unfortunately the war went on. Light wizards went insane. They killed every Death Eater they found. They killed their families as well, even though they had nothing to do with Voldemort. They executed them, sent them to Azkaban with no trials and once they had every Death Eater they went madder. It was not enough for them. They began killing every dark wizard, every dark creature. It became genocide.
Harry tried to stop them when all of this begun, he tried to reason with them, but they shunned him away saying that he was not requested to do anything, since he already achieved everything he needed to give them such power. They mocked him, laughed at him. And in the end begun hunting him, believing he became a dark wizard himself. They were right. He did become dark.
That happened of his own free will when he was betrayed by the one he loved, or believed he did. The artificial heartbreak was enough of a trigger to release his mind from the dead mans control that even before this was gradually loosening.
He was furious; and his magic, always strong when such bursts of intense emotion were released, torn down the compulsion charms that were placed in his head. He was free then and finally understood the truth. And he honestly thanked Ginny after he heard her talking with her mother about already having him wrapped around her little finger and his fortune as good as hers. He thanked her and her mother for the lies that gave him the sense of love and security. They were shocked, speechless even. And Ginny began denying the truth that was too obvious. And she knew that, just as well as he. He left her then; with no pain in his heart. With no compulsion holding him he saw nothing in her that would catch his interest. He was free. His eyes finally seeing beyond the world Dumbledore created for him.
That happened almost twenty years ago. He was nineteen then. Young and free for the first time in his life he left, traveled through countries, learned languages present and lost magic and improved his skills. He devoured every peace of information he got his hands on. He became powerful. As powerful as the two lords when they were alive and when he came back people noticed that. And they feared him. So he hid, and few years latter people begun to forget him, believe him gone like before. When in truth he was looking for knowledge in Britain, ruins of once respected pureblood family homes. He read books in the libraries that weren't destroyed by fire that engulfed most of their houses. He learned of Dark wizards' traditions and the further he read the more he saw how wrong everyone was, how blind Dumbledore was.
And now while lying on the bed he thought of the things he would do differently if he had the chance to live the life he had again.
He slowly opened his eyes. The sun was already setting, its red colored rays of light painting the walls in blood. It didn't bother him anymore, he enjoyed it even, but it was late and it didn't do well to stay in such an open place for too long even though no one came here anymore.
Harry stood up slowly, stretched his hands above his head and bent backwards a bit until he heard few soft pops in his back. After lowering his hands he heaved another sigh, more content than hopeless, and apparated to Hogwarts.
It was no longer a school. Half torn down it could barely be called one in the first place. Somehow no one bothered to rebuild it. Harry guessed that their obsession of Dark wizard hunting made them forget about Hogwarts.
He gave another fleeting glance at once magnificent castle and went to the lake. Using his magic, that for more than a decade didn't require his wand, he created a sphere of air around himself and stepped in to the water. He walked deeper and deeper until he reached a pipe he knew to be there that led to the Chamber of Secrets. The part of castle that held the entrance to the same Chamber was destroyed so he used this one instead. After few minutes of walking through the pipe that was getting steeper and steeper he finally reached the surface of a small pond that worked as an exit to the lake for the once magnificent basilisk. Harry stepped out of it and headed through the small corridor that led from the basilisk nest to the gap that was the mouth of Salazar Slytherins statue. Only he didn't leave the corridor to go to the after chamber he saw in his second year with no knowledge of true secrets the chamber held apart from the basilisk. Instead he turned to his right, placed his palm on the cold and smooth surface and hissed 'open' to reveal Slytherins study.
This was his new home. He loved it here. The library was overfilled after the changes he made to the place. In fact there were so many books that piles of them rested next to the shelves finding no place elsewhere to fill.
He again turned right and went to the door that was behind the dark mahogany desk that led to the bedroom. The king size bed with emerald silk sheets was inviting him but he decided to take a shower first. After he left the bathroom, witch was as magnificent as the rest of the Chamber, with a fluffy towel draped around his narrow waist he went to the walk in closet and found himself a new clean pair of black silk sleep pants. He dropped to his cloud like bed and his mind, no mater how much he hated it, came back to the thoughts that swam in his head while in the Leaky Cauldron.
What would he do if he had a chance to change everything?
How would he achieve the opportunity to do so in the first place?
There are no more time-turners. He and his friends, that Dumbles deemed safe for him to have, destroyed them in his fifth year while in the Department of Secrets. No, a time-turner is not an option. What about spells? Harry was sure he read at least one somewhere. 'But where?' thought Harry. He could not remember. Harry turned over onto his back thinking of other possibilities apart from time-traveling, but could think of none.
With a gasp his eyes flew open as he remembered the book holding the spell that he needed. But its effects were different than that of the time-turners and to his knowledge the book was the only one in the world that held information on that specific spell. He could use it and go back. There was nothing holding him from doing that after all.
Hermione could not stop him like she would always try to do. He haven't seen her after he left and when he came back he learned that she was killed by her husband Ron, because she saw things the wizards did to those of dark nature to be wrong. And Ron the blind fool, close minded idiot that wanted fame and others approval more than anything murdered her after publicly accusing her of going dark. He was praised for it by others. He was never punished. Not until Harry came to visit him one night. It wasn't pleasant.
"At least not for Ron." Harry whispered in to the dark of the room chuckling at the memories that flooded his head. He crossed his hands behind his head with a smirk still on his face.
No.
No one was holding him here. He could leave and no one would miss him. Harry already was a ghost to the people. A faint memory.
A yawn escaped his lips and he decided to leave this for tomorrow, he was too tired and if he truly decided to leave he would need to plan everything carefully.