Genre: Action/Adventure/ Romance
Main Character's: HP, DM, RW, HG, GW, PP
A/N: Just a simple attempt at writing an action/adventure story that's actually enjoyable. It's a work in progress and I would highly appreciate comments, flames are somewhat acceptable... we all need a little hot and spicy every now and then. The nastier you are the nastier the reply, it's only fair no?
CHAPTER I
Harry Potter looked around the platform. He was early. Intentionally so of course. He had wanted to avoid the last minute rush that was typical of platform nine and three quarters that always came with the beginning of a new school year. Well, that and the fact that he was avoiding a certain breed of overly concerned but well wishing red heads. He could already hear their questions in his head "Does this have anything to do with the final battle?", "Its Sirius isn't it?" So he didn't write to them over the holidays, a man's entitled to his privacy isn't he? They just didn't get it; he was past his godfather's death. It had been two years ago, the guilt was there, but he had to let go of it, for now. That is if he ever intended on staying alive. The final showdown with Voldemort hadn't really gone as planned. The dark Lord was dead but that was only the beginning, he had known he was weak and that his wraith like body wouldn't last long. So he had taken an alternate route and in true dark lord fashion he had harnessed an ancient form of magic and transferred his soul into someone else's body. It had been set up in such a fashion that as soon as the death curse was thrown at him, they exchanged souls. 'I feel sorry for the poor bastard' Harry thought as he found himself a compartment on the train. Obviously enough, the owner of the body Voldemort inhabited was dead, or stuck in limbo, whatever happened when such magic is performed.
He sat down on the bench and stared out the window. He let out a deep sigh as he thought of how much his life had changed. In fact the only constant in his life was Voldemort, Ironic. Ron and Hermione had finally gotten together, he moved out of the Dursley's: well run away to be exact, which had led him into the predicament he was currently in. He let his mind wander, as he recalled the events of his summer.
It had been quite a delightful morning that summer, there was a soft breeze blowing outside making the current temperatures bearably comfortable and Harry's relatives hadn't bothered him for days, not even the usual lip he got from Dudley. Apart from his daily chores which he had no actual problem with - he liked routine, it was safe - he had been left well alone for the first two weeks into his vacation. He should have known it wouldn't last though, the calm before the storm as one would say.
After cooking quite a scrumptious meal for dinner - he had become quite the chef - Harry was standing in front of the kitchen sink washing the dishes when his uncle walked in, in a less than pleasant mood. The words Uncle Vernon and pleasant didn't occur often these days. Apparently from a conversation Harry had overheard - see eaves dropping- earlier between his aunt and her best friend a plump lady by the name of Gloria something, Harry really couldn't be bothered to remember. The company his uncle was working with was going bankrupt and they had to retrench a few of their workers. A few obviously meaning more than half of the task force, his uncle's department came under this percentile, hence he was overly agitated at being under immense pressure to do some actual work for once, to the point of being abusive. Only last week Harry had seen his uncle shove his aunt to the ground and raise his hand to her, of course they had no idea he was watching. Though his uncle was yet to hit anyone, the tension in the house when he was home was thick enough to slice with a knife. They could only pray that he didn't get too angry, Dudley himself had ceased his useless banter and took to standing near his mother in a protective stance every time his father was in the room. Harry had to say that it was a noble gesture, yes even if it was his cousin, and we all know too well that Dudley and noble don't travel in the same circles.
Harry had just finished making dinner when his uncle came home. He'd been drinking again; they could all smell the pungent odour of vodka rolling of him. He walked heavily over to the table and sat down. They sat in silence, waiting for his next move. Vernon picked up his fork and shoved the spring beans into his mouth, they waited, he swallowed, before they relaxed a little and started eating. It was all going well, until Petunia spilled some lemonade on him as she was pouring it into his cup. For a few second nothing happened and then all hell broke loose. Vernon slapped the pitcher of juice from her hand sending it smashing into a wall behind them, he then picked up his plate and tried to break it on his wife head, before he grabbed Harry, who was sitting closest by the hair and ramming his head into the table. Poor Harry, now bleeding profusely from the nose hadn't seen it coming and thus delayed his reaction. When his uncle rushed at him again, he brandished his wand at him, which of course deterred the intoxicated man, before he decided to swing at his wife again, all the while screaming about how his own family was betraying him. Harry watched in horror as Vernon caught Petunia by the hair and back handed her across the face sending her falling to the floor.
It only occurred to him that he'd petrified his uncle when, red eyes, bulging out of an equally red, fat face were staring mean murder at him. It would only be a matter of time before the place was swarming with Ministry officials so he had t act quick. He yelled at his Aunt to get Dudley and run, they didn't need to be told twice, then he himself ran out of the building, not a second too soon before he heard the first 'pop'.
He could have stayed of course, but he didn't trust the Ministry officials, at least not under the leadership of that pompous, arrogant, air-head of a minister, who could no sooner be replaced by a bobbing head, that would probably do the job better. He couldn't risk taking the night bus either, so he ran under the cover of darkness to the nearest bus stop a few mile's away and hopped on the first bus into the heart of London. He used the time on the train to think about where he was going to go, he couldn't obviously go to Diagon Alley and Hermione was out of the question as she had gone to Argentina with the Weasley's. He wandered the back alley's avoiding people, it was while he had ducked into one particular alley to avoid some aurora's he'd recognized, when he was attacked again, from behind this time. A hand slid over his mouth and another around his head, holding him in a deadly vice grip. A voice harshly whispered to him not to squirm and perhaps he wouldn't make it that painful. Harry's eyes widened, but he stopped struggling. His head was then tilted, exposing the jugular vein on his neck, pulsing and throbbing in tune with his racing heart. As he felt two sharp needle like object slice into his skin, he wondered vaguely, whether he would have been better off back at No. 34 Surrey Lane, before passing out.
"Excuse me, you're in my compartment. Get out." Mr. Potter was brought out of his flashback by a civil voice belonging to none other than Pansy Parkinson. He dragged his eyes from the window he was so intently staring out of, to appraise the girl/young woman that was occupying his doorway. The last time he'd seen her was at St. Mungos, trying to help with the injured war victims. He had known for sometime that the slytherin's wouldn't stick long to their dark lord. As soon as they saw he was quickly loosing the battle, they defected. In true Slythetrin fashion, they had come slinking to the light's side, spilling secrets and giving away hide out's to save their own asses. Harry hadn't taken too keenly to most of them, but they needed that information and so he was obliged to offer them sanctuary. In retrospect, he was glad he did, but this time, he needed to know how far they were willing to go. But that would have to wait till later, as the young lady at the door tapped her foot in annoyance.
"Your, compartment? But I don't see your name on it." The only sign of annoyance that graced the face in front of him was a small crinkle in her forehead, which just as quickly as it had appeared smoothed out. He stared intently at her over the rims of his new glasses. Obviously she didn't know who he was, or she would have raised hell. Purebloods did not like being outclassed by half bloods such as himself. Him agreeing to take them in and being the bigger man, when they needed help the most was both the best and worst thing he could have done for them. The best, because it saved their high and mighty behind's from Voldemort; the worst because it was the greatest yet, insult to their pride. He decided to remain anonymous until they arrived at Hogwarts. He felt the train lurch before it began leaving the station. The lurch sent Pansy flying forward ungracefully, but she was caught by a fast arm around her waist, before she could taste the compartment's carpeting.
The arm, he was soon to learn, was attached to a platinum haired beauty who decided to grace his presence at that moment. Now he had two, irate slytherin's shooting dagger's at him with their eyes. "If you wouldn't mind" The platinum haired boy started, but was quickly cut off by the raven in front of him, already knowing what he was getting at. "Actually, you see I do mind. Excuse my ineloquence, but I don't give a rat's arse about this being your compartment. You can either share it with me, or find another. The choice is yours..." A few minutes of mind banter took place between the two in front of him. The boy then nodded his head at the others outside the compartment, before seating themselves gracefully on the opposite bench.
The train was now completely out of the station allowing for harsh sunlight to filter into the compartment. Harry hissed slightly before pointing his wand at the window and whispering something. The window fogged up before tinting itself a few shades shy of black. Pansy who had been studying the young man in front of her gasped inaudibly, when he hissed. She had seen something twinkle in the corner of his mouth briefly, before he closed it. She wasn't too sure what she'd seen, but she could bet her life, that she'd seen it before. She made to comment to Draco, but he was talking to the stranger.
"You just shut the sun out" It was meant to be threatening, but lost its impact somewhere between coming out of his mouth and entering Mr. Potter's ears. He was answered with a stare "And you point would be what exactly?" Harry watched a snarl form on the flawless face, his arguments with Malfoy had lost their valour when the actual war had begun. He just couldn't be bothered really and would only do it now for appearances sake and of course to keep the boredom at bay. "My point would be that you shut out our only available light source" A perfectly manicured hand waved around the compartment. Desperate to get back to his thought's, he stood up and smoothed his clothes - He was decked in a dark blue turtle neck sweater and black jeans - before flicking on the light switch, bathing them once more in the 'desperately' missed light. "Better?" He asked sarcastically before sitting again. He pulled out of the duffel bag he was carrying, a book on charms and their uses. Just as he was opening it, he was interrupted again. This time, by Pansy.
"I would like to apologise for being uncivil earlier and formally introduce myself and my companion." Harry narrowed his eyes at her, before a smile tugged at his lips. He had seen many people change during the war, they had lost their laughter, their zest and some, had even lost their sorrow, leaving them empty. An emptiness he knew, also threatened him, due to the war and other reasons as well. The interesting thing is, even after loosing their family, due to political differences or death and their identities, the purebloods still stuck to their manners, the only real claim they had to the people they abandoned. He wondered if she would still be so civil, if she knew who he was. He took the dainty hand offered him. "I'm Pansy Parkinson and this" She motioned at Draco, who in response offered his hand "Is Draco Malfoy". "Enchantee" He said in french, earning two pairs of raised eyebrows. "Do we know each other from somewhere?" Malfoy asked his tone calm but guarded. Harry let a languid smile paint his face, "As a matter of fact Malfoy, you and I go way back" He watched as confusion played beautifully on his face.
"Okay, how about a different approach, I'm in seventh year at Hogwarts, been there my whole life, not a pureblood and not in Slytherin."
"Well do you have a name?"
"My name Mr. Malfoy is of no consequence" The blond narrowed his eyes but said nothing. "Now if you don't mind I would like to finish my book...in silence" He added.
While the Slytherin's racked their brains, trying to fit his face to a name, he pretended to read his book, looking out the window every now and then. He wondered and some could even say worried at how his friend's and the rest of the public were going to receive the news he had to give. Firstly, about Voldemort; if they took it as well as they had when he'd first told them of the dark Lord's return then he had to change his strategy. Secondly, about his 'situation'.
XXXXXxxxxxXXXXX
The dark Lord had the element of surprise on his side, not to mention all those people who thought Voldemort was actually dead and were scrambling to occupy the power vacuum. In light of recent events an attack early in the year would be potentially hazardous, not to mention easy to cover up, what with the muggle waging war on each other, every other day. Frankly Harry was sick and tired of it all; he just wanted to get on with whatever was left of his life, preferably somewhere in the country, or another city where no one knew him. However since the fates despised him something fierce, he hadn't a popsiclyles chance in hell. He sighed again as it started to rain, 'well that's in order' he thought. After about five minutes or so the bell that signalled they would be arriving at Hogwarts in twenty minutes rang. Pansy excused herself and went off to change in the girl's bathroom, while Draco and Harry changed in the compartment.
Draco watched the other boy carefully. He was almost sure he'd never seen him before, yet he said with certainty that he attended Hogwarts, not only that, but he had some sort of relationship with him. The only people Malfoy had any semblance of a relationship with outside of the Slytherin house, were a few Ravenclaw's and of course there was the hatred thing that was going on with Gryffindor. Out of all those, this stranger didn't fit. His eyebrow rose as he saw the scars criss- crossing the stranger's back, he had seen them one too many times to not know what caused them.
During the war, he'd volunteered at St. Mungos and Hogwarts, often juggling both. His knowledge in potions had come in handy, plus he needed a reason to be 'saved' from the dark lord. After all one of his parent's was missing the other most certainly dead, at the hand of their so called master and he'd be damned if he bowed down to the one that robbed him of his loved one's. The light side had taken him in, without any scruples, at least not that many, about his connexions. He was most certain those scars were incurred at the hands of death eaters only they would dare dabble in the darkest of all magic. It had taken him and his god-father weeks, to figure out a cure for those not already dead from infection or bleeding out and he was most certain the stranger in front of him was none of them. After all he'd administered the potion's himself.
Lost in his thought's he had not seen Harry turn around and was now under the scrutiny of piercing green eyes. He averted his gaze and either he didn't notice Draco was staring at him or he decided not to acknowledge it for now. Instead Harry transfigured a mirror out of his charms book and looked himself over. Over the summer he'd let his hair grow wild, only cutting it when it ventured past his neck, other than that, he let it hang over his ears and into his eyes, effectively shielding them from view and hiding his scar. He'd disposed of the round glasses and replaced them with rectangular ones and grown a few inches, to hit 5ft 8", all in all he was unrecognizable from the pale, scrawny boy he used to be. He fastened his tie, pulled on his sweater followed by his robes, which now bore the insignia H.B on a background of all four houses. Malfoy, who'd taken to observing him again, didn't miss it and proceeded to point it out to Pansy when she returned.
They reached the school shortly after and parted ways under the roaring tempest. The Slytherins joining up with the rest of their posy in one carriage and him grabbing one with random Ravenclaws.
As soon as they got to the castle, Harry left to go find the headmaster. He located him in the trophy room, adjacent to the great hall. After numerous attempts to brush off a private audience with the boy, Professor Dumbledore agreed to talk to him briefly.
"What is it my boy?" Harry's jaw was set and he had a very determined air about him.
"Professor as redundant as this may sound; I have reason to believe Voldemort is not dead." The twinkle in the old man's eye, faded.
"Harry, I know the war had a greater impact on you than it did the others but the dark lord is dead. We saw his body, we saw you fulfil the prophecy." As Harry made to interject he added quickly "I know it has taken up most of your life and I can understand..." Harry cut him off more than a little peeved.
"This is not about me headmaster; it's about all of us, the state of mindless celebration the wizarding world is in that is leaving us more than vulnerable to him. I know he's still alive, I can feel him." The headmaster eyed him critically.
"Has your scar been aching again?" He asked concerned and Harry almost felt sorry for the way he'd gone off on the man who was his mentor, almost.
"No, but I'm the only one with any REAL connection to him and I know he's not dead. What you saw was an illusion an elaborate hoax hatched only between him and his closest death eaters. I've been reading up on it during the holidays and the only conclusion is that he harnessed earth magic and is somewhere out there wreaking havoc in someone else's body."
Dumbledore stared at him for what seemed like ages over the top of his glasses. "I assure you Harry that he is gone. The dark mark has faded and his closest allies are all in Azkaban and I doubt Voldemort himself would do something as stupid as harness that type of dark magic, besides Harry, the ways of harnessing Earth magic died out with it centuries ago. I would like you to forget about this and focus on the rest of your life, which might I add is no longer subject to prophecy. Mr. Potter this is your second chance, you now control your own destiny, don't let it go..."
Any attempts at furthering the conversation were squashed by a raised wrinkled old hand as the headmaster led them into the great hall.
"Now tell me, are you looking forward to being head boy?
AN: If you noticed the shift in writing pattern's somewhere in there I apologize, its supposed to flow I know...But I got hungry...and as much as I would like to preserve the romanticism of the starving Bohemian writer, I have to eat you know...hunger stems my creativity. Now ya'll this is my first ever Action/Adventure fic. So be nice. Oh and I may need a little help because I have absolutely no idea where this is going after the next five chapters. It just begged to be written you know. The charachter's are OOC mostly because I believe only Jk can write canon.
