Blame my imagination for this new fic when I should be working on all the others... to those who are Grimm Protector readers, the new chapter should be up soon.
This is a slight Harry Potter/Naruto/Bleach crossover. The characters from Naruto and Bleach are mentioned but never seen, mostly just abilities for the twins. I should also give you a profile for both Potters.
Name: Aster Lily Potter
Looks/Personality: Dark, almost black, red hair; green eyes, a very smart prankster, her and Harry plan to prank the hell out of the people at Hogwarts, likes to use technology and plans to find a way to incorporate it into everyday wizarding life.
Name: Harry James Potter
Looks/Personality: Black hair and green eyes; the brains of the prankster twins, doesn't like to show emotion to anyone other than Aster and is very easy to anger(though not as much as Aster-she is a red head you know?)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any familiar stuff in this fic! Read and enjoy!
PROPECHY ONE: AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES, TWINS SHALL BE BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE DEFIED THE DARK LORD THREE TIMES, BRON WITH THE POWER TO DEFEAT HIM, MARKED AS EQUALS, NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES, TWINS BIRTHED AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES.
PROPHECY TWO: SEPERATED AT BIRTH, BUT BROUGHT TOGETHER BY A CHANGE OF HEART, TWINS OF POWER, MARKED BY A DARK LORD, TOGETHER THEY SHALL DEFEND THE WORLD FROM DARKNESS, APART THEY HAVE STREGNTHS BUT TOGETHER THEY SHALL CONQUER THE UNKNOWN, THE TWINS OF POWER SHALL USHER IN A NEW AGE FOR THE WIZARDING WORLD.
PROPHECY THREE: THE SPIRITS OF EARTH AND FIRE SHALL ENGULF ONE WHILE THE SECOND IMMERSED BY THE SPIRITS OF WIND AND WATER, TOGETHER THE CONTROL THE ELEMENTS AS IF THEY WERE MADE OF THEM, THIS IS THE COMING OF THE ELEMENTAL TWINS.
Prologue 1 (Separated)
Private Drive, Surry. England
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal. They were the last people you would expect to be involved with anything strange or mysterious because they just did not hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent most of her time craning over garden fences to spy on her neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion their was no finer boy anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that someone would discover it. They did not think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they had not met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she did not have a sister. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters showed up on their street. The knew the Potters had a set of twins, one girl and one boy, but they had never seen them. The twins were another good reason to keep the Potters away; they did not want Dudley mixing with children like that.
The day was a rather dull and grey Tuesday that our story starts. There was nothing about the cloudy sky that suggested that strange things would be happening all over the country soon. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his morning bowtie and Mrs. Dursley gossiped while she wrestled Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley left after pecking his wife on the cheek and trying to do the same to Dudley, "Little tyke," He chortled as he missed. He got in his car and backed out of number four's driveway.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar, a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley did not realize what he had seen, and then he jerked his head to look again. There was a tabby cat sitting on the corner of Privet Drive, but there was no map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in the rearview mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive, no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.
He drove to work, sat in the usual morning traffic jam, but he could not help noticing that there seemed to be many strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. He supposed it was some new fashion statement. He shook his head clear as the traffic started moving and by the time, he pulled into the parking lot of Grunnings his mind was back on drills.
Later on in the day, after having a relatively normal day he was in a very good mood, until lunch, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
He'd forgotten all about the people ion cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard,"
"Yes, their children, Harry and Aster (type of Lily),"
Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were many people called Potter with twins called Harry and Aster. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew and niece were called Harry and Aster. He'd never seen them. It might have been Harvey and Jasper. Or Harold and Katsor. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got upset at any mention of her sister.
Later on, after being hugged by a complete stranger and being called a 'Muggle', Mr. Dursley hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped for before, because he didn't approve of imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw, and it didn't improve his mood, was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look (A/N: YAY MCGONAGALL!). Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house.
After Mrs. Dursley told him about her day, and Dudley was in bed, Mr. Dursley went into the living room to catch the last report on the evening news:
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why these owls have suddenly changed their sleeping patterns." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
"Well Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early; it's not until next week, Folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Mr. Dursley was frozen in his chair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? In addition, a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
As Mrs. Dursley walked into the room Mr. Dursley cleared his throat, "Er, Petunia, dear, you haven't heard from you sister lately, have you?"
As he expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny looking people in town today…"
"So?" snapped Petunia.
"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."
Petunia sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter.'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their children, they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"
"I suppose so," said Petunia stiffly.
"What were their names again? Howard and Terry isn't it?"
"Harry and Aster. Nasty common names, if you ask me."
"Oh yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
As they got ready for bed, Mr. Dursley looked out the window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
Was he imagining things? Could this have something to do with the Potters? The Dursleys got into bed, Petunia falling asleep quickly but Vernon staying up a little longer, turning things over in his mind. His last comforting though before he fell asleep was even if the Potters were involved; there was no reason for them to come near him and Petunia. The Potters knew very well what he and his wife thought of their kind… he couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on… he yawned and turned over, it couldn't affect them…
How very wrong he was.
Prologue 2 (Reunited)
The cat outside was sitting still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet drive. It did not as much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, or when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. However, he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
He found what he had been looking for in his pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked in open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again, and the next street lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even the beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see what was happening on the street. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment, he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead, he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. Her name was Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I have never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"You would be stiff of you had been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they would be a bit more careful, but no, even Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. The were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent, I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"No thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this You-Know-Who nonsense, for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying You-Know-Who. I have never seen any reason to be frightened of sayings Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one (and from here on, I will be calling Moldyworts YKW whenever he has his hyphenated name.) YKW- oh all right, Voldemort, was ever frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're to, well, noble to use them."
"It's lucky its dark. I haven't blushed this much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
"McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone is saying? About why he has disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
It seemed McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain the whatever 'everyone' was saying; she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are… are… that they're… dead."
Dumbledore bowed his head and Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"
Dumbledore reached out and patted her one the shoulder. "I know… I know…," he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter Twins, Harry and Aster. But- he couldn't. He couldn't kill two little infants. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill the twins, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he could kill two infants? It's just outstanding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Aster survive?"
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace hankie and dapped underneath her eyes. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"Yes," said McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to bring the twins to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."
"You don't mean- you can't mean to the people who live here?" cried McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. In addition, they've got this son- I saw him kicking his mother down the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Aster Potter come live here?!"
"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when their older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter really?" repeated the Professor faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Albus, you think you can explain everything all in this letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous, legends, I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry and Aster Potter day in the future, there will be books written about them, every child will know their names! And Hagrid told me you were sending Aster off somewhere else, what made you change your mind on that?"
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they could even walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can you not see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it? Moreover, for your second question, originally I planned to send Aster off to one of those Muggle churches, I read that they would take good care of orphaned children, but I changed my mind and decided to keep them together, so they could grow strong together. I realized how foolish it sounded and I was pained when I thought that I almost broke a twin bond. They'll both be much safer here, together."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes, you're right, of course. But how are they getting here?" She said, disguising the cunning spark in her eyes by looking at her cloak as though he might be hiding the twins in it.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Albus.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," McGonagall started, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the man sitting on it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man was and a least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild… long tangles of bushy black hair and a beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms, he was holding two bundles of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the bike as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."
"No problems I hope?"
"No sir, house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
The two Professors bent forward over the bundles of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy and a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of the boy's jet-black hair over his forehead, they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightening. The female twin also had a cut, but her's was shaped like a crooked 'Z' and was mostly hidden by dark red hair.
"Is that where…?" whispered McGonagall.
"Yes," said Albus. "They'll have those scars forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it Albus?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one on my knee that is a perfect map of the London underground. Well, give them here Hagrid; we had better get this over with."
Albus took the twins in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's house.
"Could I… could I say good-bye to them, sir?" Hagrid asked. He bent his great shaggy head over the twins and gave them each what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. The, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhhhh!" McGonagall hissed, "you'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," He sobbed, wiping his face with a large handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it, Lily an' James dead, an' poor little Harry an' Aster off ter live with Muggles…"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Minerva whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden was and walked to the front door. He laid the twins gently on the step, took a letter out of his cloak and tucked it into Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute, the three of them stood and stared at the small bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Minerva blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone in Albus' eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," Albus sighed, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Yeah," Hagrid said, his voice muffled, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike bike. G'night Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, sir."
With that he wiped his streaming eyes on his sleeve and slung himself onto the bike and left.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Minerva." Dumbledore said, nodding to her. She blew her nose in reply.
Albus turned and walked back down the street. On the corner, he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry, Aster," he murmured. He turned on his heel ands with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
At the other end of the street, the tabby came back around the corner and up the steps of number four. She stared down at the two identical babies and transformed back into human form.
"I may not be able to do much but, I can at least make sure you grow up knowing of our world." She whispered, taking out her wand.
After a few waves and movements, two small necklaces formed from different materials. Both pendants were made of wood and they were set into a leather cord. They symbol on the end of Harry's was the combined kanji for earth and fire, while Aster's was the combined kanji for wind and water. Minerva did not know what the symbols stood for but she placed a charm on the pendants that when they have their first bit of accidental magic, not only would she know, but also the necklaces would inform them.
She bent over and kissed them both on the forehead, "Goodbye and good luck for now." She whispered, before she turned on heel and vanished with a small pop.
A breeze ruffled the hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up while Aster Potter yawned and stuck her fist in her mouth. They faced each other and with out noticing, each placed a hand on the letter between them, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley…. They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Aster Potter- the twins that lived!"
And this is the product of my freedom starved imaginative brain. Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think!
Next on Twin Mages and the Sorcerer's Stone: Ages 5-10 in quick order, the twins learn about there magic and start pranking the ones they dislike. Meeting a certain pair of twins along the way and what ends up as a massive prank war!