Disclaimer: Firstly, I would like to say that I had never intended to have any story with a self-insert. Unfortunately, I had an idea that just will not leave me alone. I would also like to state, that with the exception of the Character G7 and his alter ego of Garret Sean Evans; almost every other character used herein is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Happosai belongs to Rumiko Takahashi and the various cartoon creatures (particularly Tazzy, the Tasmanian Devil) belong to who owns the rights to them. There will also be references to others that belong to various television producers.
Awl sew, iffen ewe sea sumpin' ya reckoneyeze it's prolly cuz Potter and them belong tew JKR, or, conversely, one of the innumerable fanfiction writers that populate the web. This site in particular. Chances are, if it was an idea I really liked I shamelessly stole it. With the dearth of original names for Goblins, please don't hold it against me if you have seen Snatchwallet, Knutpincher, Grabpockets or Ragnok to name but a few.
This is a work of fiction, no Galleons, peso's, gilders, dollars or pounds sterling have changed hands… DAMMIT! Not into mine at any rate. Also, this will be the only time this Disclaimer will appear, I ain't one fer redundancy to the point of silly.
This may be a self-insert, but it will be told in third person narrative. Also, any that have gotten updates messages regarding this story, most likely it's because I have gone back and edited some faux pas and corrected some typelexia.
Garret Evans and the Wizard of Idiom
CHAPTER 1
Wishing can be Dangerous; your results may vary
Sometime in 2009;
Our hero had a real name, most assuredly, but he hadn't used it in so long; apart from business related matters, he hardly recognized it when it was used. His nickname had become so much a part of his personality over the past twenty years he even thought of himself as G7, or more completely, G7998.
He had been around for just about forty-seven years at this point and he was a bit annoyed. Mostly due to the usual hurry up and wait required of him in the industry in which he was employed. Once again he was in a non-descript city of northwest Texas, waiting on the shipper to get his load ready.
Our hero is a truck driver, one of those poor individuals without whom you would most likely not be reading this. Eating your puffed cheese balls and drinking your energy drink, or using any number of devices, wearing clothes or even having toilet paper on a roll sitting on the desk in front of you for sneezes. Unless you happen to be one of THOSE sorts that use toilet paper on your desk for a less wholesome purpose. It shouldn't need to be said that if you own it, a truck brought it.
One of the most disrespected and under appreciated persons you could meet. He doesn't often point out his importance to the economy or nation; he knows everything would stop without him and his brothers of the road.
All of that has absolutely nothing to do with this story.
G7 had been waiting for a load to be ready so he could hook up and take it to the destination marked on the manifest he had yet to see. He'd been waiting for most of the day and it looked as if the load wouldn't be ready until the next day. Of course this was a normal occurrence in his industry, especially with the particular shipper where he was presently cooling his heels.
So, to alleviate his boredom, G7 was in the sleeper portion of his truck with his computer on and the Internet connected, killing time in a fairly new way. He was reading fan fiction at his favorite site. Of course, he had read all seven of the Potter books and was thoroughly disgusted with the last two, and not too happy with the fifth one. Nor was he especially impressed with the particularly odd set of circumstances in the previous four. The phrase 'overly contrived' comes to mind.
No, he was not reading any of the currently half million plus stories based on Potter. His favorite stories in that vein were yet to have any new updates. At the moment he was reading an adventure with a new perspective regarding the Bat and how Bruce Wayne might have dealt with crime if he'd had a sense of humor and a predilection for pranks. Imagine a crime-fighting Joker. Creepy isn't it?
As the hour grew later and later, and the day turned to dusk and then to night, G7 read. Patiently waiting for the call on his cell phone. His eyes weary, his annoyance at having lost an entire day of drive time having peaked, he prepared for bed, shutting down the laptop.
He listened to the radio for a brief time while preparing for bed. Hearing the latest news on the wrecked economy and how taxes were most likely going to be raised to cover the over enthusiastic spending by elected officials that believed, falsely, they could tax and spend the nation to prosperity. Sighing to himself he muttered, "I really wish I could make some sort of difference."
Of course, his wish had nothing to do with what happened next. His intent with that wish was more of the 'take the nitwits on the Hill into a woodshed and show them that it isn't THEIR money' variety. This process would quite likely have raised blood blisters on the baseball bat he would have used. He reminded himself that the people got what they voted for in the last election. Only it was turning out to be 'Hope' that it ends soon, and 'Change', as they were lucky to have a little in their pockets.
Just as he closed his eyes, his bunk fell out from underneath him. Striking the surface that met his body; G7 gave the requisite grunt of pain with the unexpected loss of a not quite soft mattress and finding himself on a floor of some kind.
"OW! That hurt."
He also discovered that he had a sharply painful and tender spot on his chest, accompanied with a trickle of blood. Apparently he had some sort of wound that hadn't been there before. The pain went deep into the muscle on his right daddary (not to be confused with a mammary, which exists only to titillate most men and some women, depending upon their gender attraction.) after probing it gently with a finger. "Urgh! That hurts worse!" he exclaimed. He then was struck by the fact that he was lying on a tiled floor. "What in the Hell happened to my truck!" He asked, as he looked around from the floor of a white room, forgetting the pain in his chest for the moment.
"Your 'truck' is precisely where you left it," a humor filled feminine voice said, with a slightly British accent.
The voice came from a point above and behind his head where he lay. Twisting and craning his neck, he was witness to a set of dainty toes with toenails painted in a manner emulating a mirror, his face reflected within. The shapely toes connected to well made feet clad in sandals with golden strands that wrapped up the attached to legs that were mouth watering in the extreme, and went all the way up. Even more delightful feminine body parts followed the legs. This entrancing figure was shown to its best advantage in a clingy material that was opaque and translucent and nearly transparent all at once. The figure before him was beyond being a superb example of womanhood. Most men would have been reduced to slavering fools at this point.
G7 isn't most men, however. While he does appreciate a beautiful woman as much as the next man, perhaps a bit more than the next man. He wasn't about to lie to himself and assume that he would have the merest possibility of a chance with this woman before him, a snowball would have more likelihood of surviving July in Hell. That and he was still miffed about the long wait and, with his truck missing, he was just shy of beginning to get peeved.
"And why am I not in it?" He asked in response to the previous answer, some annoyance reflected in his voice.
Smiling seductively, the woman answered, "Because you are here."
"Okay, I'm dreaming or something. Dunno why I'd be dreaming some woman I'd never seen before posing riddles… great view though. Oddest thing, never dreamed in Technicolor before, or actually felt pain either. I must have been more tired than I thought. After all, I'd only driven 12000 miles over the past two weeks with no let up for a real break without worrying about a scheduled pick-up or delivery. Does dispatch understand that it's really hard on a guy to be going so long without a real rest?
No, they don't! They'd much rather we drive until we begin to hallucinate and have wrecks. All because they honestly think that a load scheduled for delivery on Tuesday at 14:00 is perfectly acceptable to have delivered on Sunday at 01:30. Never mind that the consignee always looks at the driver like he's on crack or something when he asks if they can take the load early, when it's clear they don't have the room in the warehouse for any product at the moment. Of course that is assuming that there is even anyone there at the time to sign for the delivery.
And now I'm here dreaming about a drop dead gorgeous woman telling me that my truck is where I left it, while talking to me in what looks like a men's restroom, abso-utterly typical of my stupid dreams." Gseven then trailed off mumbling about a giant radioactive hamster rampaging through his nightmares and wrecking the cable company office he'd once worked out of. The punch line there was geographic in nature. Yes, G7's nightmares tended to turn into comedic interludes reminiscent of a hippie's LSD flashback. No, G7 wasn't one of those poor excuses for humanity that had grown up and managed to take over the political class of his home country.
He just had an active imagination that tended to run wild after a large pepperoni, onion and jalapeno pizza. "What ever I ate to cause this, I ain't eatin' it again!" He proclaimed loudly enough to be heard by his attractive audience.
Looking to the woman, who'd begun to laugh with a golden chime to the voice, he asked. "What's so damned funny?"
"You, my dear. So typical of the people of your world, making assumptions about what is real and what isn't. Perhaps, if I could act more directly in your world… No matter! You are here and your truck is elsewhere."
Nodding his head as if he understood the woman, whom he certainly did not, he said. "Sorry, it's been a bad month so far. Guess I was completely wrong about it being a dream. I mean, this kind of thing happens to me all the time, most often after I've had a bit too much in the way of adult type beverages. And my friends wonder why I quit drinking." muttering the last.
"Now to interesting questions, since it appears that I won't be waking any time soon. What did you mean about 'people from my world'? Aren't you from there too?"
Another tinkling laugh, "No. I am magic."
"That answers that. It really is kind of obvious isn't it? Next one… Who are you then?"
"That is a bit more difficult to answer, I've had many names."
"Well, just gimme a hint, if I don't get it in three guesses, you get five points."
"So much disbelief." The woman said, the laughter and smile colored slightly with sadness. "As I have said, I've many names… Circe, the Morrigan, Maeve, and Mitra. The Greeks called me Hecate. The Egyptians called me Isis, and the Atlanteans called me Ish-Ma-Na-ke."
"That certainly helps to narrow down who you are. I'll just go make a call for the nice men in the little white coats now. Won't be a minute."
Standing, G7 looked around a little more and found the body of what he assumed was a dead man on the floor, a small puddle of blood pooling around the man's head, perhaps ten feet from where he stood. "Well, that guy doesn't look so good. What happened to him?"
"That is simple, you killed him. Or rather, the previous owner of the body you now occupy killed him."
"No, I do believe I would have remembered killing him." G7 argued, then stopped and looked to the woman, his eyes slightly narrowed. "What do you mean the 'body I now occupy'?"
"I shall explain." Hecate said.
"To you, it is the latter part of the year 2009, where you have spent the better part of a day waiting to perform the employment you currently hold. You now find yourself somewhere quite different from where you began. It is the early part of 1986 here. This is because all the worlds of the infinity known as the multi-verse exist at slightly different rates in the flow of time. There are so many different worlds where you exist; it would take another infinity in counting them. There are countless worlds upon worlds, some of which you are quite conversant with. There are worlds where time travel is common place, or where men travel the stars seeking adventure and others where barbarian warriors do battle with demon and god alike.
There are worlds where the physical abilities of normal humans can be likened to super human through training. There are other worlds where there are teams of young girls who fight the forces of evil with magic, and worlds where gigantic mechanical constructs are used to fight wars.
There are even more where magic exists and is used with great effect to alter the material or to control the minds of men. And you, my dear G7, are here because I brought you here! Think of it as an answer to your wish!" She ended happily, rapidly fluttering her eyelashes.
Pursing his lips in thought, G7 looked to his feet. "Wish, wish… Look, that wish to make a difference was about correcting the imbalance between government and the people. The leaders have forgotten that they serve the people, not the other way around."
"That is the way of wishes G7. As you well know, one should always be careful of what one wishes." Hecate smiled her brilliant smile.
"He just might get it, especially if he isn't specific." He finished the age old saying in a dull voice.
Looking into his eyes, Hecate said. "Now ask your questions."
"Alright, lemme recap first. You are Hecate, the apparent embodiment of magic, quite possibly what pagans refer to as 'the goddess'. For some unknown reason, which you have yet to tell me, you have brought me here and placed my soul, I'm assuming, into another body, the previous renter having been evicted after dispatching some unknown person who now lies dead at my feet, again for reasons yet to be revealed.
Am I following this okay?"
Hecate nodded eagerly. "Very good Gseven! You are brighter than I had expected."
"Yeah, truckers are almost always more than we seem. I can even tie my shoes without help. Now, another question, why in the name of Bullwinkle does my chest hurt on the right side and why am I bleeding from it?"
"That would be from the injury you sustained when he," she points to the lifeless form on the floor, "killed you, or, rather, the previous person that was in that suit of material flesh."
With a hooded look, Gseven glanced at the woman and said, "Ah, that makes ever so much sense!" Mumbling -Like pulling teeth- "Why were they killing each other?"
"The one on the floor was a wizarding mugger. You can tell by the wand still in his hand."
Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, and finding no glasses there, G7 shook his head; speaking softly. "Wizarding, hmmm," then more loudly. "How did my body kill him?"
"It was an accidental killing. The mugger, poor fool, had a weak heart and couldn't handle the stunning spell you cast. He also struck his head on the floor rather sharply, as you can see. Unfortunately, the Avada Kedavara curse he had cast struck you in your chest, on the right side, just above that manly nipple of yours."
Giving the attractive blonde another hooded look he said, while thinking to himself that she was as bad as a certain embodiment of the Norse Goddess of Fate related to the past, "Leave my manly nipples out of the conversation if you don't mind. And since you said 'Avada Kedavara', am I to assume that this is one of the God awful numbers of Harry Potter universes then?"
"My, you are very quick! Only two hints and you already have it!" Hecate exclaimed with excitement.
"Wonderful! I'm trapped in a men's room with an overly attractive Potter fan-girl." He paused and then spoke again, "I think I know why you brought me here. The big question is, what do you think I can do about the obstacles to Harry and his life, not to mention Fondlesmore, Crusty-shorts and Snidely?" another pause, "Man! That sounds like a group of ambulance chasers."
Angrily putting her face within inches of his, Hecate hissed. "Fan-girl? Fan-girl? I AM MAGIC!" then more calmly. "In so many of the realms where the boy exists and has to fight the evil result of an old fool with his head in the clouds, or a place a lady shouldn't mention, constantly referring to the 'Greater Good', I have had to sit by and watch! With Fate and Destiny and their desires for a 'Chosen One' to defeat the 'Dark' one last time taking precedence, when it was the old fools responsibility to begin with!
Then to make matters worse. This child of hope, after succeeding in his task by becoming the 'Master of Death', was left to live a life of mediocrity. Naming his children after the people who had harmed him most, honoring the man that had placed him in a purgatory that could be classed with Hell for sixteen years. And then memorializing the man that had stalked his mother, bargaining to have her life protected from his master so he might have a sex slave of some sort, while her husband and child were murdered! "
Here Hecate smiled, "What do I believe you can do? I believe that you can deliver retribution to those that have harmed one of my children. I believe you can do much to reverse the damage done, allowing the boy to win and become more, or destroying that evil yourself. How you do it is up to you. As the goddess of Magic, I give you only one order. Sow havoc and confusion within the wizarding world in the ways only you can think of, protecting my children in England."
"Tall order there. Can I get back to you on your offer; I need to speak to the manager first. At this point I can only offer the standard rebate." Gseven said with flippancy.
"Oh! I do like you," Hecate said, her smile returning. "You have no fear of an immortal. I shudder to think of your response to threats from Tom and his followers, or Dumbledore and his Order."
"I might just hand them my socks and ask if they could have them washed." Scowling at his feet, and seeing very nice looking and comfortable dragon hide boots. "I haven't said I'll do it. What if I was to say 'to Hell with it' and demand to be sent home?"
Looking guiltily to the far wall, Hecate bit her lip. "I cannot send you back. It was only barely possible for me to bring you here. The wish you had made allowed me to bring you. When you made your wish I was looking for the answer to another wish entirely, and you are quite likely the best possible prospect for that answer.
Where the difficulty lies is in the fact that, while I can slightly affect something within a world like yours from outside, I cannot send anything there; even something as insubstantial as a soul. It is quite straining to bring anything from such a world. In fact, the power I used to bring you here has even reduced my magic to the extent that I will have to spend the next millennia regaining my full abilities. Attempting to put you back could possibly kill me and still not return you to your truck and your old life."
"So; what you're saying is that my nearly eighty year old mother is going to be told her youngest son has died from reasons unknown? I'm pretty sure most of the people I know will throw some kind of party. But my mother and sister are going to be wrecked! My employer is going to be put out, having to have a body removed from one of the trucks. The shipper isn't going to be thrilled having someone die while waiting for them to get off their asses and get a load ready. Maybe that will get them to move faster in future… I suppose that's a good thing.
Of course, my brothers won't be too bothered by my loss. They might even remember to talk about me now and then. As far as the people I knew growing up are concerned… the less said the better. Even so, I had a life that, while not beer and skittles, was at least moderately tolerable. This is a little inconvenient to me Hecate.
I should be very pissed with you! Very! At the very least you should have asked first, and not just snagged me and brought me here. I might have agreed to help. Now you give me no choice."
Hecate was impressed at the cold, offhanded manner in which Gseven spoke. She'd never encountered a mortal who didn't have some fear when dealing with an immortal. She feared he might refuse to protect her children of magic. Even with that concern, she wanted to assure herself that he would help, "I was unable to ask first! I just explained that it is far easier to bring something from your realm, particularly the spirit and soul rather than a physical body. Even sending a tiny message asking for your help could have over-taxed me. Magic can do many things, but there are rules even I cannot bypass."
Failure in this negotiation would result in another world ravaged by magical warfare. Hecate had been given dispensation by the All Father to find a way to help Potter in this universe where his problems were even worse, with all the Marauders dead, or part of the enemies forces. Fate and Destiny wanted to let this world be, just to see if Harry Potter could succeed with even less to fight for. There had been moments that Hecate had despaired and thought it would be best to remove the magic from her angered her greatly that she was considered one of the minor immortals, asked to bless a select few with the gift of Magic. She was always prevented from having her own chosen, or even assisting one of her favorites. It was something the Nameless One had insisted on when she had signed her contract for renewal several millennia before. She had hoped that this time there would be the possibility that she would be able to have a work around. To finally undermine the efforts of Fate, Destiny, Death and Dumbledore in at least one world. She had gone to the Nameless One for permission to bring about changes in this world and he had put a stop to the interference of the other, save for Dumbledore. Hecate hoped she could convince this mortal that he could help with one of her favorite children.
Seeing the look of sadness and fear of failure in her eyes, Gseven spoke gently. "I said; I should be pissed with you. I'm not. I am annoyed at your assumption that I would be any use here. I am not a wizard! And, while I know what all the books had to say about the life of Harry Potter from age eleven to seventeen, and then nineteen years later, I'm in no way knowledgeable enough to fool anyone into thinking I know what I'm doing."
Slightly encouraged, Hecate smiled hesitantly. "What would you say if I had all of that taken care of?"
"I would say, speak of it and it might sway my decision," G7 said in reply, affecting the air of a certain Polish actor who had played the King of Siam once, no hint of humor in his voice this time.
Sighing, Hecate answered, "Well, in your realm you were an accomplished vocal mimic. Discovering this while I was in the process of bringing you here to replace the person whose body you now wear. I thought it would be useful for you to retain the ability, so I have granted this body with an improved version. You need only hear a voice once to replicate it. You have complete control over this ability, as it would become confusing for you if you did not.
I have also altered the body, with the exception of the eye color, of the previous occupant to your appearance and build at his age, which, by the way is twenty. I must say that your youthful self is much improved over the more middle aged form I rescued you from. All those muscles!"
"I was working for a cable television company when I was this age. And yes, I was fairly muscular at the time. Why did you do this?" He asked for clarification.
"I did this so as to allow you to use the skills you already have in your own arsenal as well as the skill sets that your host body possesses. I also felt it would ease your mind when looking into a mirror and seeing a familiar face rather than that of a stranger. I did, however, leave his scars and add your own. I think it adds character to you, especially the new scar, which, coincidentally, has a twin on the forehead of young Potter. Except yours isn't going to be red and angry as his is. Yours will actually heal because there is no soul fragment attached. Isn't that wonderful?" She asked cheerfully.
"Yeah, wondermous." G7 replied
"While you will retain your memories from your world and personality quirks, you will also have the memories and reflexes of former 2nd Lieutenant, Garret Sean Evans. Auror; Special Services Branch of the Confederation of Magical North America; Magical Department of Justice; as well as his skills and knowledge of magic.
I must tell you that he was specially trained in combat magic, focusing on offense. His defensive magics are above average while his interest in annoyance hexes and jinxes rivaled James Potter and Sirius Black.
"I understand. Thanks, I guess. Am I to assume that the memories of my new apartment will come to me as I need them, or will there be something else later? Also, am I some kind of cousin to the BWL?"
"No, you're his Uncle."
"Lily and Tooney didn't have a brother. And Lily was the only Muggle-born in the family; it says so in the books by She-Who-Has-More-Money-Than-God." Gseven corrected her.
"You should be aware of another old adage, 'Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence'. Merely because an Uncle by blood is not mentioned, does not mean none exists. Besides, Garret is their half-brother."
"Still doesn't explain the 'Evans' part of the name, unless they were adopted by dear old dad. By your sly smirk I can guess that it wasn't something like that, but do go ahead; explain."
Hecate smiled wider and said, "I'm ever so glad you are so quick witted! You are correct. No one was adopted by anyone. In fact, your sisters had no idea you existed. You were born at a time when they were very young and not very observant of their mother. They did question why your father was visiting so often however."
Cocking an eyebrow, Gseven asked. "And why didn't her husband know about it? I'm sure he would have had something to say. I know the elder Evanses were married until their deaths, just prior to Lily leaving school."
"That is the humorous part; your stepfather was in prison at the time, for tax evasion, quite a fascinating court case. He was imprisoned for five to fifteen years, getting out in six with time served. Of course, during this time your mother had become a bit lonely, and encountered your father. He was in England to assess the threat posed by the then very minor problem of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Rosemary found him dashing and was captivated with his rugged good looks and exceptionally manly ways. He was very careful to never use magic where she could see. The girls were unaware of the affair as the sexual encounters were only sporadic, and never where the girls could walk in on her and Sean.
Once you were conceived, Rosemary became very concerned. She was Catholic and held strongly to her beliefs in the Church Doctrines, so abortion was out of the question. But she couldn't keep you either, her husband wouldn't accept that it was a delayed pregnancy from him. A four year gap between husbandly bedroom endeavors wouldn't allow for him to suspend his disbelief."
"And since she was Catholic, the Church would most likely not allow for her to divorce her husband and marry my 'dad'." Gseven finished that part of Hecate's tale for her. "And I thought my life was messed up; this poor kid Evans had it a lot worse, and now I'm saddled with the odious history of being the product of an adulterous affair. People always talk about how men are like dogs when it comes to sex, never mentioning how it takes two to tango.
If the old man were here I think I'd box his ears for not keeping his pants up. I take it 'dad' didn't bother to tell young Evans about his origin and is now gone on to the Great Single's Bar in the Sky?"
"Don't be so judgmental! I've peered into your memories and seen what you have done yourself, so you have no room to talk!" Hecate interjected with some level of petulant ire. "After birth your mother gave you over to your father to be raised in America; where you learned all these amazing things about magic and the larger world that muggles don't even suspect. Your education also encompassed normal muggle topics. Your father insisted.
You're also fairly famous in your own right, having had some few adventures with your father in your youth, as well as one or two on your own.
Your father died eight months ago, and, while you were sorting through his papers, you came across his journals, well Garret did, and he was excited to get to learn more about his father. Not many people could say they knew very much about Sean Clarence O'Hearne! And young Garret was going to find out more than anyone ever had!
That is when he found out about his dual citizenship and family abroad."
Gseven nodded silently for a few moments and then said, "All that is very interesting. And it does explain the existence of the unknown brother almost cleanly without much need for bizarre literary acrobatics. Or even stretching the bounds of maybe." Taking a breath Garret continued.
"Another question… why are you and I are in a men's room? I mean, I know why I would be in here. Evidently Evans had need of it or he wouldn't have been in here to be mugged. Women of your particular stature aren't normally found in such an environment, not that I'm complaining about the view, far from it. There should be a law requiring such statuesque attendants be stationed in all men's rooms around the world.
It does add to the décor. The whole idea reminds me of a humorous story. But, I digress.
So why are we here?"
Her eye's glinting with humor and appreciation for the backhanded compliment on her appearance, Hecate explained. "We are here, G7, because it is where Garret suffered his fatal attack of sudden death. He was here for much as you surmised, washing his hands preparatory to boarding his flight. This particular men's room is located in the Los Angeles International Airport, and you are going on a trip, your desire to find lost family so strong within you that you resigned your commission with the service and packed your belongings to fly away and find them. You even spent some of your inheritance on investigators to locate your family, only finding out about Petunia.
But you mustn't rush directly to number four Privet drive! It would seem very peculiar for an unknown wizard to just pop out of thin air, so to speak, and whisk young Potter away. I would suggest that you hire the Goblin's to verify what your investigators told you. They are very good at ferreting out information here and there. In fact that was the plan that young Garret had in mind for when he arrived in England."
"Yeah, the bearded twinkler would be more than a little concerned at the sudden loss of his weapon to the hands of a stranger from foreign lands." G7 agreed. "Assuming that I will go along with this, and take the assignment you have so graciously decided to dump into my lap, how am I set for cash? Back home I had a few nickels and I think a quarter or two. Hiring the Goblins isn't going to be cheap, I can guess that."
For an answer, Hecate held out a small box that was about the size of a deck of cards. "Take this trunk. The contents should alleviate the problem of limited resources."
Taking the offered object, G7 asked. "So… What's in it?"
"Enough gold to win a war several times over."
"That much?" he asked, then said, "Seems like wars are getting smaller all the time."
"Please don't be obtuse! It is a shrunken trunk with three compartments, two of which have been expanded to cubes sixty feet to a side. Of course there are also the standard feather light charms as well. The two compartments are filled with gold ingot. The third compartment is a drawer three feet by three feet by one foot, internally expanded five times. It holds a large number of uncut gemstones, such as diamond and sapphire."
"Hecate," G7 said in a small voice then cleared his throat, "that is a powerful lot of money in the raw. I'm not going to be on the run because of a heist of Fort Knox am I?"
"Living the way you would like to become accustomed isn't going to be inexpensive G7." Hecate explained, "As to where all that gold comes from. My being an immortal allows for large amounts of valuable treasure to come into my hands. What I am gifting you is barely a fraction of my personal wealth. I have treasures at my disposal you could scarcely conceive of. I'm giving you processed gold bars and raw gems to make the Goblins less leery of you and your sudden deposit into a new vault. Luckily, your father, Sean, held half ownership in a South American gold mine along with a Clark Savage III. He received his dividends in gold and raw gems.
"You do realize that the temptation is very strong to take the gold, grab Harry and the people I liked and run don't you?" G7 asked.
"Of course," she replied. "But, the problems that would arise from that action are too horrible to contemplate. Riddle would successfully return; war would truly come and it would only be a matter of time before you would be forced to fight.
Also, if you think of a reason to go to Hogwarts before retrieving Potter, do so. The snake should be killed as soon as possible and there is also the map in the Come and Go Room that can be retrieved along with the diadem.
Manage your time well, and you should be able to spend four wonderful years raising Mr. Potter and correcting all the horrible emotional and physical problems he would have to deal with otherwise."
"Map? I thought Filch had the map in a file that the twins liberated. And, how am I gonna kill the snake? I'm not a Parselmouth."
"The map that the twins shall take from the caretaker is the copy that belonged to Pettigrew. The one you will find in the Come and Go Room is the copy that Sirius Black lost in the Marauders sixth year. He had found the Come and Go Room accidentally while looking for a place to hide the evidence of a prank when he was nearly caught by Filch. He was so excited about the discovery; he dropped the bag containing the evidence and the map in his rush to return with his friends. They never did discover the room again."
G7 took on a thoughtful expression; "I'll probably be fighting the bad guys with ranged long term pranks. I suppose I should probably try to pry the mutt out of Azkaban. Any suggestions as to how I could do that legally without using the rat? I could use the dogs help."
"I should explain to you that there is a surviving uncle for Harry Potter in this universe only because his godfather died the next day after the Potters were attacked. Pettigrew still escaped, but an easily excited Auror panicked and killed Sirius with an explosive curse rather than a disarming jinx. And the only reason you are here is to take over the life of that recently killed uncle, otherwise Harry would have no one other than Hermione on his side and she would be stolen from him."
"Sirius, confused, distraught and upset probably turned to face the Aurors when they arrived and had his wand in his hand. Him laughing insanely while saying it was his fault… I could see the Aurors being on edge. He turned, wand in hand and made some kind of gesture… Stupid mutt!" G7 deduced, and then asked. "What about Lupin? He'd be almost as useful."
Hecate became downcast; "He is very likely dead as well. Having lost all his friends in one twenty four hour period, Lupin became quite lost and found his way to a bottle. The last time I was aware of his continued existence in this world was two years ago. At that time he was extremely thin, ragged and dirty, living on the streets and not really a danger when he transformed, due to the excessive alcohol damage. He would still find locations to lock himself away, but he could hardly move. His wolf couldn't deal with the heavy drinking as well as you would think.
Sirius could still have his name cleared, as Pettigrew is masquerading as Scabbers with the Weasley's. He seems quite fond of rat kibble."
"So only the heir to the Marauders is left. I don't count the rat as a Marauder myself, anyone that would betray his friends… So I have no built in allies at the moment is what you are saying?" He asked.
Shaking her head, Hecate said. "Not at present. But, this does not preclude your finding them on your own. Even with 'built in' allies as you put it, you would have had much explaining to do. It is best to start fresh with others. Perhaps you will find allies among the people you know of already."
Checking his pockets G7 discovered another shrunken trunk as well as the tickets for his flight and noticed that the time for boarding was at 10:01 P.M. "What time is it? I have a flight to board it looks like and I really don't want to be late for it. Booking a new flight would be a pain in the keester I can live without."
Smiling brightly, Hecate replied. "It is currently 9:53 P.M. February thirteenth 1986. I shouldn't worry about the time we've spent speaking. I have temporarily stopped time for our chat. Chronos owed me a favor… You have plenty of time to clean up your mess with this body here," toeing the lifeless mugger again, "and still make your flight with a minute or two to spare.
I should explain that you have other gifts. You mentioned that you are not a Parselmouth, yes you are. The talent is something that is latent in the Parker side of the family genetics. Some twenty-five generations ago there was a squib born into the Slytherin Family. Through the years that squib's descendants have possessed the ability to greater or lesser degrees.
Usually these descendants were snake handlers that seemed to have an uncanny knack for dealing with serpents. You and Harry are the only magically gifted with the talent apart from Riddle.
Next, you are immune to all forms of mind magic. You cannot be confunded, compelled or imperioused. Mostly this is due to your own sense of self and force of will. Your own personality won't allow for the tampering from outside. I have added to your protections however, the manipulator and his pet Death Eater cannot peer into your memories nor can you be obliviated. Do you have any other questions?"
Gseven looked thoughtful for a moment and then asked, "Just one, really; why is it that most of the time, gods and goddesses always seem to have a British accent? Is it some kind of Union thing?"
Hecate, laughing cheerfully, turned to leave and stopped, "I should tell you that I have given you additional knowledge of magic and what it can do, including an ancient spell that surpasses any current disillusionment and invisibility charms. Moody and Dumbledore cannot see through it or even detect it. This extra knowledge will be indistinguishable from young Evans memories." She then stepped through the wall straight through a urinal. 'That's almost as useful as that trunk full 'o' gold!' Gseven thought.
Knowing that time had returned to normal at this point, G7 began grumbling to himself. "Couldn't she have done something with the dead guy herself? I mean really, it wasn't even me that whacked him! Clean up the messes, save a kid, protect the world. Gotta board a plane in just minutes and…"
After a brief moment of thought, he relieved the body of wand and a small purse holding some few Sickles and Knuts, far more Knuts than Sickles. Transfiguring the dead man into a goldfish and quickly flushing him down a commode, Garret didn't even bother making comment to himself on the manner of disposal. He was impressed with himself casting the magic. It seemed almost instinctive when he had done it.
G7 rushed through the restroom door and to the Gate for boarding his flight. Hecate had been correct; he did have a minute or two to spare after all.
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Kudo's for anyone that caught the hidden internal challenge. And praise if you caught and understood the reference cameo.
The Challenge: As you can see from the set up, Harry must have a previously unknown relative who died and was replaced after Halloween 1981 but before Harry gets his Hogwarts Letter.
This person that must replace this relative should be from a 'real' universe that is cognizant and knowledgeable of the entire 7 book series. In depth knowledge of fanfiction would be good as well. The relative must be related to Lily. This person must be informed of his/her new situation by an immortal being. It can even be Nicholas Flamel.
Weasley's can be the whole family untrustworthy, or only Percy the prig, Ron the Hoover, Ginny the Potion Princess, and Molly (One Big Weasley Family)
Dumbledore must be a MOB; just like he is in canon, or even to the point that he is in Perfect Lionheart's 'Partially Kissed Hero'; Snape must be a complete and total ass. (Nothing makes me want to puke more than a 'Hero' Snape.)
All of the Marauders must be dead save Pettigrew.
Humor and fighting the war with Pranks preferred, but not required. Dursley baiting is always fun!
No crossovers except where references are made as an aside by the principle related to Harry. One exception to this, the immortal that informs the person being placed in the Potter-verse can be any of the immortals from Ah! My Goddess. Your preference may be as mine, Hecate, Boudica, Maeve, Death, God, Fate, Destiny or take your pick, it could even be Loki.
A relationship with Tonks of some sort, friendship or romantic.
Again, Remus is dead here, also Sirius. NO MARAUDERS, I cannot stress this enough. (I like the character of Remus, but honestly, it is quite annoying to have another Larry Talbot. I also like the character of Sirius, but they are both too damaged by the first war and Whiskers manipulations to be useful.)
The Ministry is to be an antagonist, except for a few employees. (Amelia Bones, Croaker, Shacklebolt)
Canon is a guideline, try not to kill off any of the bad guys until after Harry starts Hogwarts. Wrecking them politically, financially, or socially is good fun though. Certainly anything that embarrasses them to the point of willing to commit suicide to escape is fun too.
Preferred pairings, Harry/ Hermione, Harry/ Luna, Harry/ Any girl except Ginny. Another issue I cannot stress enough. Any girl in this type of world that would believe it's romantic after hearing the stories of how her mother trapped her father with potions is of questionable morals. Besides the whole Oedipus thing is really creepy. 'Oh! It's just like James and Lily are back!' PEW!
No super wands with multiple cores, they are a foolish concept in the extreme. A single core is the way it would honestly work. Remember that canon has Harry with a Holly and Phoenix feather core wand… it does not require the wand from Ollivander. The brother wand is not required. The power of a wizard/ witch is reliant upon the wizard, NOT the wand. Wanna have a super wand, try having a custom wand made after 3rd year with a donated feather from Buckbeak. Use of the same wood for his wand would be proper. According to pagan woodlore, Holly is Harry and Neville's birth wood. They have an affinity for it. The core exhibits power by being more closely attuned to its user; think of it in the like radio signals, the more in tune the station, the clearer the broadcast.
Don't make Harry have more money than God, more property than the planet actually has available, and don't Uber power Harry, he can have an early leg up on his magical education, but keep it simple, things like Occlumency and potions, theory and wand movement rather than actually using magic. Let's pretend that casting magic at an age before 11 will be damaging to his core (beyond accidental). Try to avoid making him an animagus/ metamorphmagus. He doesn't need it to win. If you do make him one of these, make the animagus believable, jbern had a good example in 'The Lie I've Lived' and The-Caitiff in 'Harry Potter and the Freak Parade.' In other words, no magical creature forms. And please have it be a singular form at that. Please also avoid making him both an animagus and metamorphmagus. I don't believe it would be possible to have both abilities. One or the other but not both.
Good luck, enjoy what I have written, and have fun writing your own.
The one and only Gseven, accept no substitutes or artificial ingredients. Again, I am terribly sorry about writing a self-insert.