Prolog: A Story Worth Telling
Thursday, distant future
South Buckinghamshire, London
Begonia Avenue
9:30 AM
It was one of those rare beautiful summer days in London on which not a single treacherous greyish cloud, that heralded impending cold and rain, could be seen for miles. After savouring a rich English breakfast, people were swarming out of their houses to enjoy their holidays. Birds could be heard chirping happily all over the place and occasionally leaves on the trees and on the streets started to rustle and dance when a small cooling breeze picked them up and carried them along. Soon enough the whole city was alive and buzzing like a hive.
The only person to not actually enjoying this day was probably Devan Lochees, an old man going past his fifties with only a ring of frilly white hair left surrounding his bald head. Not because he didn't enjoy the weather or the people, or another equally stupid reason, but he was feeling lost. Lost in a city he never visited before, considering his profession as historian quite surprising really. Lost looking for a place that didn't exist, according to the people he asked and what the almighty and knowing internet had told him.
Looking down in his hands, Devan was holding a neatly preserved piece of parchment. One day it had magically appeared on his desk at home. There was nothing written on it except an address that according to the rest of the world didn't exist. You may wonder why a person of his status and age was burdening himself to chase a ghost around the world that was clearly meant to be a child's joke. The reason was making Devan nervous and excited at the same time. Under the non-existing address, signed sloppily with black ink, stood a name, nothing more.
South Buckinghamshire
Begonia Avenue 7
signed by
Harry James Potter
Everyone on the planet knew this name as the person who had broke deliberately the Statute of Secrecy between magical and non-magical humans and helped to create a society where both worlds could live in without fear of persecution or worse. For muggle it still was pretty mind-boggling to observe wizards and witches just waving their wands and transforming, conjuring and charming everything as long as you had enough power, knowledge and a creative mind. Devan had just been starting to get his education in Hogwarts when this has taking place. Back then Mr. Potter had been as old as he was now. Mr. Potter was a living legend and not only for this deed. His life career on Wikipedia alone was an impressive collection of accomplishments with each exploit outdoing the next, earning him a wide branch of moniker.
At the age of fourteen he had won the Triwizard Tournament and earned the title Triwizard Champion. Several years later he had beaten and killed the Dark Lord Voldemort as a mere teenager and people started calling him the Vanquisher and the Chosen One or The-Boy-Who-Won and many more silly names. After that it had become silent around Harry Potter for a while and then, out of the blue, when he was barely thirty years old Mr. Potter became Minister of Magic. In Hogwarts, they had called him Harry the Arcane for his ability of casting wandless magic and Harry the Bloodless. Though sadly nobody knew anymore why they called him that today. Devan was sure there was an interesting story behind this particular moniker.
Sadly overall all information about Harry Potter's life were very vague aside from his accomplishments past his time at Hogwarts as Mr. Potter was a very private man and his friends and colleagues back in the day had been tight-lipped about his life. As a famous historian, Devan had looked into the life of Harry Potter more closely when he was younger, but found nothing noteworthy in Wikipedia or in the old tomes of Hogwarts. Many rumours were surrounding the legend that was Harry Potter.
Devan was torn out of his musings as he turned into the street written on the parchment. The place has to be here somewhere, he thought to himself, walking down the street, counting house numbers.
"Number 12... 11... 10...", he counted quietly for himself, passing house after house. "9... 8... It can't be." His voice was laced with awe, stopping in his tracks. He hasn't chased a hoax after all. Of course there was only one explanation why nobody knew this address... "Fidelius Charm! Why didn't I thought of that before? He is the secret keeper, and he gave away the secret through his mail."
There in between, totally out of place for that kind of living area of middle class muggles and sticking out quite strongly from the normal single-family houses, stood a two-story manor. For a manor it looked commonly, not overly large really, but quite expensive nevertheless. The home of Britain's greatest hero of modern history. Devan Lochees couldn't hide his astonishment as he gazed at the manor that was the home of the infamous Mr. Potter and his wife Mrs. Potter.
Looking around, Devan saw a passing woman a little younger than himself and addressed her politely. "Good woman, can you tell me what you see there, please?" he asked pointing directly at the manor.
Startled the woman stopped in her tracks, clearly surprised she was talked to by a complete stranger out of the sudden. However, the man seemed friendly enough and her eyes followed the direction his finger was pointing too only to see nothing but an empty big property that had been there for decades. "Nothing," she replied confused, but equally polite.
"Really nothing?" he pressed more urgently.
"Well, there is an empty property with a sign that indicates the property has been brought, but that is here for as long as I can remember," she described more extensively with her brows furrowed.
"Thank you! Thank you very much indeed!" he laughed clapping into his hands like a little excited school girl. He wasn't on a wild goose chase any longer. While Devan celebrated, the woman walked away briskly from the blatantly insane man.
"Magic... you have to love this."
The sound of a loud crack and the rusty chuckling of an old man behind him ripped him out of his musings. "Very impressive isn't it?"
He spun around with surprise. "Y-You're really Mr. Potter," the Chronicler managed to splutter out after the initial shock. His grey eyes roamed over the fabled man that was Harry Potter. He was tall, but not overly so with full white hair on top and an equally white, neatly trimmed beard and countless little wrinkles forming his aged face. Most noticeable though were his famous intense green eyes that hadn't lost a spark of life like the rest of his body, however, with over a hundred years under his belt not especially surprising. His garb was a simple wizard robe in a dark blue almost black colour. "How did you know I was here?" the Chronicler wanted to know.
The wrinkles under Harry's eyes became more prominent as he smiled. "Let's just say I have means to determine if a passenger is actually just a passenger or deliberately looking for me."
"A ward?" Devan asked curiously. "Must be an impressive one. Never heard of such a kind."
Harry's green eyes twinkled not unlike another famous wizard whose portrait still hung in the headmaster's office in Hogwarts. "Something like that," Harry replied, obviously not intending to go into detail of his security measures.
"Shall we?" Harry was holding out his arm for grabbing.
"We're gonna apparate into the manor, can't we just walk through the front door?", the Chronicler asked confused.
Harry smiled patiently. "When my wife and I moved here to get away from the public, I installed some neat little tricks, if I dare say so myself. If by some miracle somebody manages to overcome the Fidelius Charm and tries to enter my home without me or my dear wife, well, let's say the consequences for the intruder can be quite disastrous. So I advise you to grab onto me... unless you want a trip straight to St Mungo's of course," he finished jokingly.
"But you send me an invitation... You don't trust me?"
Harry gave him a stern look. "Don't interpret too much into this invitation, Mr. Lochees. You don't know me at all and I'm not arrogant enough to think I know you. So yes, I do not trust you enough to walk in and out of my house like you please. However, I ensure you, you'll be perfectly safe once we're inside. Everything else is a discussion meant to be heard inside," Harry stressed out and pushed his arm out for the Chronicler to hold again. "Otherwise, if this arrangement is not to your liking, you're free to go now, Mr Lochess." Harry's eyes turned hard.
"Very well..." He grabbed onto Harry's forearm and was welcomed almost instantly with the unpleasant feeling of getting squeezed together from all directions and forced through a very thin tube. It only lasted for a blink of an eye, but the Chronicler has never appreciated this kind of magic transportation and staggered a little dizzily as he was materialised back inside Harry's private office, grabbing onto what appeared to be like a cushioned chair.
Harry looked over the Chronicler understandingly as he himself still couldn't shake of this nasty experienced. "Everything alright? If you've to, you know, vomit, the bathroom is down the corridor three doors to the left."
Holding his rebelling stomach with one hand, the Chronicler waved him off. "I need just a moment to gather myself."
"That's kinda surprising. I've never seen a wizard your age that shows such a strong negative reaction to apparating, Mr. Lochees."
"Sadly my body has never reacted well to magic transportation apart from floo powder. I much prefer the muggle way to be honest," the Chronicler explained, breathing out in relief as the spinning in his head and belly stopped.
"I can relate a bit," said Harry nonchalantly and walked swiftly to the door. "Before we can talk about business, I have to make sure all accommodations for your visit have been finished. Until now, we weren't sure, whether you'd come or not. So, please excuse me for a moment, but feel free to look around for a bit. I'll be back shortly."
"Who is we?" the Chronicler asked curiously, stopping Harry in his tracks.
Harry old winkled face lit up with a fond smile. "My dear wife of course. Who else?"
When the clicked shut and the Chronicler was alone in Harry Potter's private office, he decided to inspect the room more precisely like Mr. Potter had suggested. The office was classic square shaped with the entry opposing a beautiful wide window front which let enough light through to make artificial lighting though-out the day unnecessary. Some unknown plants were standing closely by the window as well to bathe in the sunlight. The furniture didn't look out of the ordinary, but was still high-class in quality, a wooden desk was standing near the window as were some plants that were almost as big as himself. When entering the office, on the right-hand side was a wide bookshelf reaching the ceiling filled with various modern books, scrolls and ancient tomes. Some looked like they would crumble as soon one might think of touching them and others looked like they had been bought yesterday and not even read once. Although the Chronicler was a man of history and Harry Potter's collection was indeed impressive, and he wondered what kind of literature the man behind the legend would read in his free time, something different caught his attention.
On the left-hand side, in the middle of the wall was a fireplace traditional for magical families, who not only welcomed a cosy room during colder days, but also a more convenient means of transportation beside flying on a hard piece of wood or Apparition which often left people with uneasy stomachs. What caught his attention though were the items hanging above it like some kind of trophy. The first item was obviously a broken broom, snapped in the half by some misfortune in the past. Almost completely black in color, its shape unlike any model he had ever seen and certainly this broom has never been produced by some companies like the Nimbus Broom Racing Company. A small mystery right in front of him. His grey eyes wandered to the small name plate below. "Thunderbolt," he read quietly to himself. "Odd name, but somehow fitting I guess."
The second item hung right beside the broken broom and was recognized right away by the Chronicler. It was the missing sword of Godric Gryffindor no doubt about it. Made of the purest form of silver one could find and the golden hilt set with egg-sized rubies. His old face became even more wrinkled as he frowned at the missing engraving on the blade just beneath the hilt. Normally the name of Godric Gryffindor should be there. Perhaps the sword was a very good replica or his old age was finally playing tricks on his mind and this wasn't Gryffindor's sword to begin with. Come to think of it, why would Harry Potter have the missing sword in his possession and never uttered a word when whole Britain had been searching under every rock after the defeat of Lord Voldemort? This was actually eating on his pride as historian, and he needed to know the truth. Once again, but with more vigour this time around, his eyes darted to the name plate below the supposed renowned sword, seeking confirmation. "Caliburnus," he read and once more was nagging on his mind. Something about the name was making him excited, but he couldn't put his finger on it for the life of him.
He was so deep in thought, he didn't hear the door opening again. Only the elderly voice of his host ripped him out of his musings and let him turn around startled. "Ahhh... I see you have found two of my most precious possessions. Both of them have a unique past behind them."
The Chronicler looked like a child with his hands caught in a cookie jar. "Excuse me... I'm a guest and I shouldn't have sniffed around on my own."
Harry looked amused by the man half his age. "It's quite alright really. I gave you my permission to look around after all."
"I'm glad," the Chronicler signed in relief and turned his back to both trophies. "At first I thought this was the missing sword of Godric Gryffindor, but it's just a very well-made replica. I was wondering what 'Caliburnus'stands for. It's Latin, isn't it?
There was a certain twinkling in Harry's eyes not unlike from a long since deceased, but nevertheless renowned wizard. "Actually this is Godric's famous sword and to answer your question there are a few translations, but the most popular one would be 'Excalibur'"
"But..." The Chronicler looked totally confused, but stopped mid sentence when Harry lifted his hand, signalling him to stop.
"Mr. Devan...," Harry began politely. "I've no doubt you're curious about the answer to say the least, however, this kind of conversation as enlightening it might be is not what I intended when I lured you to my home as the answer will only lead to more questions and so on." Harry made an inviting gesture with his hand towards a free chair at his desk and both of them sat down. "I promise all questions will be answered during your stay at my humble home. Dobby, my own house-elf has informed me just moments ago that all accommodations are finished."
"Mr. Potter as honoured as I'am to be here, this is highly unusual. For what purpose am I, as you said 'lured' here?"
Harry smiled. "I always liked muggle films since I was a little boy. Did you see the film 'Matrix' by any chance? It was fairly new and famous when I was still a teenager, but it's pretty old now, so I wouldn't be surprised, If you didn't...," asked Harry and waited for a response to continue. The Chronicler shook his head, interested where this off track was leading to. "You see, there was this character called Neo who was confronted to make a choice. He was offered to swallow a red or blue pill. If he swallows the blue pill, he'd wake up the next day, forgetting everything what happened until this very moment. He would continue to live inside his narrow world and kept believing whatever truth he thought the truth was, even in reality it was a lie. But... If Neo chooses the red pill, he would stay awake and led deeper into the rabbit whole, learning the truth he was seeking all his life."
"Why are you telling me this, Mr. Potter?"
"I'am telling you this, because you have a choice to make now, Mr. Lochees. Sadly I have no symbolic pills to offer, but the analogy between the scene of the film and your situation now couldn't be more similar. " Harry pulled both hands forth as fists and opened them successively. "Your first option is to take this trip as nuisance and go. Remembering it as a simple conversation between two old man. Wasted time. What ever floats your boat as they say. Or... You can stay and listen what I have to say. Consider what I can offer you. They call you 'The Great Debunker', don't they? How about debunking the great Harry Potter?", he finished, sounding sardonic, no, downright bitterly.
The Chronicler looked sceptical. "Mr. Potter, I don't know what to say. This is all really strange and unexpected to say the least."
"That's fair enough. Obviously I can't go into detail, but I think you should know I want you to write a story about me. A biography, if you will."
"Not to sound ungrateful, quite the contrary actually. I feel honoured, but why me? There are a lot more people in my profession, who are more well-known and though it's hard to admit, better work. I've grown old myself," the Chronicler replied thoughtfully.
Harry looked a little amused again. "A man in my position doesn't keep his secrets if he stays passive. I know you have tried to write about me in the past and that's why I have looked at you more closely and to be honest I'am quite pleased." Harry said smiling and began counting on his findings. "Devan Lochees of House Lochees, an old magical bloodline that in the past was quite influential, but has fallen out of power over time beginning in the early 18th century for allowing muggle blood to tarnish their heritage. Nowadays the name Lochees is just a name, you on the other hand have built up a reputation for yourself. Leaving Hogwarts with relatively good marks, you became a travelling historian, almost like Indiana Jones…," Harry jokingly added, „…just without the dangerous adventures. Famous for writing several biographies of important men and women in both the muggle and wizarding world, some of them even had been Minister of Magic for a while. Facts and truths are more important to you than lies and fraud and the like. That's how you earned the moniker 'The Great Debunker'. Maybe one of your most famous works is the book 'The Mating Habits of the Common Draccus' which is still used in reference in Hogwarts."
Harry's green eyes pierced right through Mr. Lochees. His hands were still between them, open palms symbolically heaving up and down weighting his options. "There isn't any other person I would trust with this, but I'm afraid you've to make the decision now."
The grey eyes of Devan Lochees, the Great Debunker, were looking around alternating between Mr. Potter's imploring face, random points in the room, the light shining through the window and the sword with the broken broom hanging on the wall. Was he still up for it at his old age? This was an once in a lifetime opportunity.
"I still don't understand why this is so important to you Mr. Potter, but I would be a fool to decline for what others would kill for," the Chronicler replied. "I will take the red pill."
Finally, Harry could take his hands back, they started to ache a bit, and he leaned back in his chair as the tension dissipated. "Where are my manners... Do you want something to drink? We have all kind of drinks ranging from the ordinary muggle brewing to butterbear and firewhisky", Harry offered.
"Just a glass of water for the moment, please. I much prefer to stay sober during business."
"Of course, of course. Dobby, would you mind?", Harry called out a little louder.
A loud crack could be heard again. "Master Harry sir called for Dobby?" echoed the frail, oldish voice from the fireplace across the room.
"Would you be so kind and bring our guest a glass of water and for me a butterbeer, please?" Harry asked kindly.
Dobby nodded and his big baggy ears wobbled in return. "Dobby will be on his way. Dobby won't disappoint Master Harry sir," promised the old little elf enthusiastically and disapparated again.
Harry had to chuckle at the bewildered look he got from the Chronicler. "I know he can be a little strange, but Dobby is in my service for over eighty years, and we consider him a family member. Sadly he still refuses to simply call me Harry," he explained smiling.
"House-elfs can be like that, fiercely loyal and caring for their owners and stubborn at the same time," the Chronicler said amused. "So is there a particular reason why you want your own biography now? I bet there has been many attempts and offers before you approached me."
"You've no idea, but let me ask you a question first...," Harry said and leaned forward in his chair, his green eyes grew serious as can be. "What do you know about my time at Hogwarts and before? What did you find out on your own?"
The Chronicler shrugged. "While I found plenty of information inside old newspapers of the Daily Prophet about your parents, in peculiar your twin brother The Boy-Who-Lived and even a meagre amount on your younger sister, there have been almost no details about you. The only article during Hogwarts dedicated about you, was about the Triwizard Tournament in which you participated even though you had been too young to be legally allowed to."
"So you found nothing then?" Harry pressed harder. "Nothing at all?"
"Well aside of the common rumours and names they called you, nothing of true value," he answered.
"What kind of names did you pick up?" Harry asked again.
"They called you Harry the Bloodless for reasons I don't know, Harry the Arcane for your impressive abilities in wandless magic even during Hogwarts I presume, Triwizard Champion for obvious reasons, Chosen One and Vanquisher for killing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which was expected of your brother until you finally did the job, thank you by the way," the Chronicler complied with Harry's request and listed all names.
Harry looked unsatisfied, even a little disgusted. "You don't need to hold back for my sake, there have been more, I'm sure."
"They called you also the Heir of Slytherin, a rare one was even the Master of Death and..., " the Chronicler looked uneasy.
"And...?"
"They called you Harry the Kinslayer, which couldn't be possible. There would've been articles and trial reports, not to mention that non of your family members died during those dark times," he sputtered nervously.
Harry leaned back again, but not like before, he looked weary, defeated and even guilty. "All these names sound very impressive, don't they? Some of them are indeed negative and yet all of them are true to some extent," Harry began, his eyes were looking at the Chronicler and at the same time they were looking through him like he was a ghost. "As you can see, I'm very old now. Me and my wife are going to die soon, Mr. Lochees. My lifework is done and there is no threat of it being destroyed or undone, even if the truth about me comes out to the public."
The Great Debunker looked conflicted at the revelation. "As much as your death would sadden me and whole of Britain, no, the whole world. Why would you want to tarnish your reputation?"
Harry looked conflicted. "There are many things you'll learn about me, during your stay here, Mr. Lochees. But to answer your question... Before I killed Voldemort I was overshadowed by my brother for years simply because everyone assumed he survived Voldemort's attack all those decades ago."
"Are you implying your brother was never the Boy-Who-Lived to begin with?" the Chronicler in bewilderment, but his face morphed into embarrassment when he realized he had just interrupted Harry Potter in an important explanation. "Never mind, continue on please, Mr. Potter."
"I was named all kind of names before I started attending Hogwarts... Liar, fraud, attention seeker, squib, boy... freak," Harry needed a short pause to collect his thoughts. "You'll learn my childhood was anything but happy. There is a reason you find so many articles about my parents or my brother, but not about me... I was unimportant, unwanted and disregarded and that formed my character early on. I wanted to be recognized by my brother and especially my parents. But most importantly I always wanted to be recognized by the deeds I did and not what people thought I did like my brother. To my greatest regrets I did unmentionable things, things that still haunts me in my nightmares. I'm not a hero. I also didn't kill Voldemort because it was the right thing to do, but because I wanted revenge. Revenge... Revenge is like poison, it takes possession of us and turns even the best of people into abominations. I changed from a kind-hearted, shy boy that only wanted to gain attention and a little bit of love to a monster. Without realizing it, I became vindictive and even cruel," Harry sighed looking tired. "If the truth came out about me, there would've been no way for me to change our world for the better. I stayed silent and the rest is history as they call it. But I want people to truly know who I am and who I was. They shouldn't worship me when I'm gone."
Silence was resonating through the room. Not even the sound of breathing seemed to be able to breach the absolute silence claiming both of them. The Chronicler looked more than a little bit shocked at Harry and Harry... He looked right through his guest. His mind was clearly somewhere in the past. None of them seemed eager to change that. Silence was their friend now like a warm blanket at night.
To be continued...
This has been the prolog, which has turned out longer than I intended at first. Hopefully it served its purpose in giving you guys an idea what you can expect about what is gonna happen in Harry's tale. With that in mind, I still want to address some points of worry that might come up here from you guys.
First I want to make absolutely clear, that even though it's a WBWL-Story, I will try to avoid clichés like the pest, or make them at least believable in their explanation. So, what can you expect aside what I haven't already revealed in the prolog? Harry will definitely not be rich by some stupid inheritage test by the goblins and claim multiple houses as his own. I hate these plotlines… On the contrary actually, Harry will be rather poor for a long time.
Secondly, people might worry about the wandless magic ability of Harry. Unfortunately I can't reveal how it's gonna work yet, but when the time comes, I will explain extensively and there will be drawbacks for Harry!
The last point I want to address is just a general clarification about some characters. There will rarely show up some, but only few, people from the „Kingkiller Chronicles" like Devan Lochees for example. This is NOT a crossover fanfiction and as such these character are not really important for the plot. It's just an homage or cameo if you will, because I really like the book series. The only characters you could describe as OC will be Harry's brother and his younger sister. All other characters will be from the Harry Potter universe.
That is all on my part for now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are eager for more. I'm always open for criticism, good or bad doesn't matter, and general suggestions. I would rejoice about comments of course, everything else would be lie, as they're a great source of motivation.
See ya!
Some of Harry's monikers:
Harry the Arcane
Harry the Bloodless
Heir of Slytherin
Harry the Kinslayer
Chosen One
Vanquisher
Triwizard Champion
Master of Death
