"HP: Heroes Never Die"
Chapter Two
- Damn You Croaker! -
A/N: Don't own squat, 'cept the plot.
None of the canon you know will apply here. At All.
"Speech"
{Foreign Language}
Thinking
'Telepathy'
Department of Mysteries, March 1999
"Crap," Harry murmured under his breath. This wasn't the first time he questioned the sanity of his superiors. Well, wizards in general. He became an Unspeakable solely due to the anonymity factor, and now he regretted it. This lot was worse. Sanity, sense… it was almost like the patients were running the asylum.
It was such a tempting offer he was given too, and he wondered why McGonagall suggested it. He had barely enough spare time to sleep, much less anything else. He did receive the occasional letter from Hermione, but everyone else? Not so much. And, this project was getting on last nerve.
The concept was intriguing, and something that people would read about in both wizarding and muggle fiction. Still, the idea of time compression was still a bit out there. The runic arrays were a bit beyond his abilities, but then he was there to provide the start up power.
That was one thing he hated: being used as a magical battery. Still, if this worked, it would enable research to happen in days instead of months, without it affecting one's age. And of course, that was the tricky bit that made him question everyone's common sense. Merlin, he was cynical for being 18.
He remembered channelling the magic through his wand to the key-rune, then things got a bit fuzzy. There had been a spark of blue, a flash of white, then waking up.
The room was almost completely bare, and he wondered what the hell happened. The rune stones were gone, the marble slab he was pumping magic into had vanished, and he felt completely odd.
"Crap," he muttered again as he stood up. His balance was off. Checking his belongings, he retrieved his DOM issue wand and went over his pockets. Both trunks were in place, and he felt his portkey around his neck. However, his chest was a bit… softer than it was supposed to be.
Both of his hands went up and he pulled his collar away to look down his robes. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me!" he shouted in a pitch he didn't recognize.
Absently conjuring, he sat – read collapsed in a chair and simply sat there for a moment. Blinking, he went through his robes and felt the absence of the only thing he truly enjoyed about himself. His dick was missing.
"Damn you, Croaker!" he quite literally shrieked.
Fuming silently for a while, he decided to find out how long he was unconscious. His stomach said it'd been a while. "Definito Tempus," he muttered with a counter twirl and a jab of his wand. Tempus would get you the time in hours and minutes. Definito Tempus would get you the date and time in seconds. It was the usual time spell used due to the experiments and whatnot.
What the spell reported had him swearing again. Instead of "'xx:xx:xx' - 28 March 1999", it read "02:23:15 – 29 March 1984". He did the spell five times, then did four other time related spells and got similar results.
He was fifteen years in the past. And, if the time was identical on departure and arrival, he was unconscious for a bit over six hours. "Fuck."
He never noticed Croaker's disillusioned form watching him as he left. The old man sighed and hit the unknown unspeakable with a tracking charm on his or her foot. What was interesting about the whole affair, was the folded note that was stuck on the person's back with a sticking charm. It was his handwriting and addressed to him.
'Do Not Interfere With This Agent. Temporal Rule One when pertaining to Time Turners is in effect. Signed, Algernon Croaker, 28 March 1999.'
Watching the agent leave, he mirrored said agent's last word. "Fuck."
Getting out of the DOM at night was simple. There were only two other people in the entire department, and they didn't even acknowledge him as he went by. Walking out of the Ministry was even easier. A simple confundus charm to the one guard, and he was gone.
A quick apparition had him at Diagon Alley. Rather than put up with things this late at night – or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it – he'd left his Unspeakable Robes on with the hood up. Rather than change into something that didn't fit, he just had the built in charms mimic a rather dark grey, instead of the flat grey they were normally.
While Gringotts was open around the clock, they did close their doors at night. Rapping on the door, he used the specific tapping that indicated he was an agent of the Unspeakables. Stepping back, he put his arms behind his back and waited with his head somewhat down.
Now, the magic of goblins that doesn't concern mining and crafting, is mostly based in defence and illusion. While he knew that the main door had three different 'murder holes' that were used to apprise visitors, they were completely camouflaged and invisible. The main doors could also be rendered completely transparent from the inside, so as to assuage potential threats.
So, he stood there patiently while a squad of goblins looked him over. After ten minutes, a side door opened in the alcove. "This way agent," came a stern voice.
Following the armoured goblin, and recognizing that there were another five invisible and in easy striking range, they came into the entryway and stopped.
"Business?" the goblin asked after turning around.
Harry nodded. "Professional and Personal. If it isn't inconvenient, there is a need for a meeting with four of your brethren. A records keeper for blood identification; A senior manager to oversee everything; and the two that are in charge of the Potter and Black Accounts." There was a pause, while the goblin blinked at him through a grimace. "It will make sense during the meeting. As much as things of this nature can, that is.
"Wait here," the goblin ordered, before leaving.
Knowing that the other five were waiting for him to do something wrong, he simply stood there with his hands behind his back and tried not to fidget. Eventually, after thirty minutes or so, he was led into a conference room. The four goblins that were requested were on one side of the long table.
Bowing, he greeted them. {May your profits be up, honourable people.}
The one he pegged to be a senior manager, nodded respectfully. {May your foes' coffers bring you joy when they die. Now. What can we do for you, witch?}
Sighing, he deflated a bit. "I guess that clinches it, then." Pulling back his hood, they could see the disturbed look on his face. Wild short auburn hair was on the top of his head, whilst his eyes were still the same shade as his mother's. "I had hoped it was a prank gone awry. Maybe a new form of polyjuice, or something. At any rate, if we could have my identification taken care of first, we can do business."
The records goblin was old, and didn't look to have gotten younger from when Harry saw him last. He slid the blood red stone over to him, and Harry immediately placed his palm on top of it. Ignoring the sting, he watched absently as 'Harrison James Potter-Black' appeared above his hand.
Cue the look of surprise on the goblins. He'd never seen the like before, and it proved to him that they were capable of looking like something other than pissed off all the time. It was refreshing.
"Knowing that this is disturbing and unsettling," Harry began cautiously, "I can also swear a blood oath, a binding oath on my magic, life or both, or whichever you require for me to verify my identity."
One goblin was staring at his hand. "You're wearing the head of house ring for the House of Black."
"Yes."
The other goblin looked up from his hand to his face. "And why aren't you wearing the one for the House of Potter?"
That was a good question. Although, now that he thought about his current situation, it made a great deal of sense. "It wasn't available for some reason when I claimed my inheritance. Seeing as how I'm here some fifteen years before I did so, its likely that I'm the reason it was missing in the first place. You will find that the current ring for the House of Black hasn't left the vault… Assuming Orion has died already."
"Two weeks ago, and you are correct," the goblin he pegged for the Black Accounts stated.
The one for the Potter Account snapped his fingers, causing a box to appear on the table in front of him. He slid it to the opposite side. "Put that on. If it accepts you, you can sit and do business."
Nodding, Harry flipped the box around and opened it. He grinned at the sight of the embossed griffin and stag on the golden ring. Taking it out, he placed it on his right ring finger. The one for the Blacks was on his index. The gold ring pulsed, then shrank to fit his hand, which looked rather effeminate now that he looked at it. Oh, how depressing.
Brows up, the Potter Accountant indicated the chair.
Sitting down, Harry nodded. "If you think this is strange for you, I was male not seven hours ago." That evoked chuckles from everyone.
"Fifteen years, you said," the senior manager stated. At Harry's nod, he grinned. "Any tips?"
"What's in it for me?" Harry countered with a brow up and a smirk.
Thirty minutes were spent giving the goblins some pointers for companies to invest in. He emphasized the muggle companies that dealt with computers, and told them about the dubious practices of the Enron company; how the BBC would be expanding in the nineties. He also told of the various broom companies, and how the Firebolt Brand would take Quidditch and Racing by storm. Pretty much all the little things he noticed without a lot of detail.
After that was done, Harry got to the gritty details that wouldn't be popular. How there was a class five cursed object in the LeStrange vault that needed to be sequestered for later delivery to his younger self when he came for it. Having them just give that to him was odd at the time, but now… He was getting a headache.
"I'm going to need a new identity. Two, in fact. For the magical world, I'll be recognized as the Clan Head of House Potter. For that, I think I'll use Alexandria Potter. Remember there being a many-time great grandmother with that name. For the muggle, I'm going to go with something completely different."
"Why's that, milady?" the senior goblin said with a smirk. The bastard was enjoying himself. Well, Harry did need to think of himself as a her, but not any time soon.
Frowning at the reference, HE explained. "I'm going to do what I wanted to do after the war, instead of listening to everyone else's ideas for me. I want to become a doctor and a healer. To do that, I'm going to basically live in the muggle world. Rather than looking over my shoulder for people looking for me, I'd rather use an alias."
"What did you have in mind?" the record keeper asked with a quill ready.
"Well, I'm dropping Harrison or Harry altogether. Harriet makes me cringe. Instead of James, I think I'll go with Janet. Can't use Potter, Evans or Black, as I don't want to be noticed. So, I think I'll use my favourite professor's maiden name of Fraiser." He paused to look around. "How's that sound? Shouldn't get in trouble for that, right? Nothing Line Theft-y about that?"
"It's workable," the record keeper said.
The Manager leaned forward. "You've got something on your mind."
"Yes," he nodded. "But I don't think he's going to like it," he said, while pointing to the Potter Manager.
"Gringotts is Gringotts," the goblin said with a smirk. "What country?"
Grinning, Harry chuckled. "I love goblins. You know exactly where you stand with you lot." That got smirks from the four. "The United States of America. I don't trust England in this current climate, especially as a woman.
"I want to attend university for both healing and medical school. Tired of seeing so much death. I want to save lives, and maybe help bring some babies into the world."
"We can help you with that, Lady Potter" the manager said.
Harry gave him a steely eyed squint. "Now you're just trying to rile me." That evoked gravelly laughter from the four. He didn't notice the odd looks that the goblins were giving each other and him throughout the interview.
United States – 1986
The past two years were eventful in that they were completely uneventful. It was truly strange. No attacks on his person. No hounding by the whiskered wanker on what happened to the Potter Vaults. It was rather peaceful, truth be told.
Having left the trust vault for Harry Potter alone, with the only instructions being that it could be opened solely by his younger self – no exceptions – the rest was 'moved' to the United States.
Still, after coming to accept his new gender after four months – meaning, coming out of denial – Lexi Potter quickly became known as the one witch you simply did not hit on, ever – lest your testicles be peppered with stinging hexes. And she was damned fast with that wand!
It was a bit easier when she entered premed and got away from the randy Bostonian wizards. Bastards. Setting up shop in Colorado, she took her premed coursework at the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs. Which is where her sense of self went sideways, upside down and inverted itself.
She discovered girls… at the age of Twenty.
The cause of her complete discombobulation was her new dorm flatmate, one Samantha Carter. Two years her junior, 'Call me Sam' had her stumbling all over herself, both with words and simple walking. To sum things up effectively, the blonde was completely gorgeous and had a mind that was just too bloody sexy to be legal in several countries… including this one.
She found a blond Hermione. It was what Fleur should have done to her sensibilities. And, it was one hundred percent embarrassing. Fleur and Hermione in one woman. Janet was absolutely smitten with the genius.
It being college, and Sam wanting to rebel from her overbearing jackass of a father, she decided to do something completely selfish. Having noticed Janet's seemingly complete ineptness whenever she spoke to her, she wanted to have some fun. It backfired spectacularly when she got her answer, though.
It was a Thursday night in the dorm. Janet was grumbling through her coursework with a pot of coffee that was spiked with pepper-up. While she knew she wanted to do this, the tedium and redundancy with the Healer courses nearly had her screaming.
She was the local Healer for most of Colorado at this point and had helped a couple with their newborn not a month ago, and here she was going over the listings of names of bones, for the love of creation.
Screw it. She screamed in outright annoyance over everything, tossing the devil book across the room, where it smacked the wall next to the main door.
"Problems?" came an amused voice from the other side of the room.
Spinning in her chair, Janet nearly fell out of it. "Huh? Oh. Sorry."
Chuckling, Sam set her physics aside and grinned at her. "What's the matter, Janet?"
Frustrated, Janet forgot to be nervous. Her brain-mouth filter went out the door, too. "It's just bullshit, Sam. I'm a licensed Healer already, and this premed crap is so redundant! I could pass all the damned tests tomorrow, but for the fucking hours required! Dammit, this sucks. I need a drink."
Grinning widely from her seat, Sam was amused as hell. This was the most her roommate had spoken to her without stuttering. "Take me with you. This particular Brownian bridge is going in a circle."
Eyes going wide, Janet remembered who she was talking to and started stumbling again. "It, uhm, yeah sure. I mean, yeah, that is…"
Just seeing Janet flushing with embarrassment pulled at her heartstrings. It was so endearing, seeing the unflappable auburn haired, green eyed woman blush. "Unless you don't want to," she prodded.
"What?" Janet squeaked as she stood up. "No! I mean, yes! I'd love to!"
Standing from her desk, Sam's head tilted as she came to an interesting notion. Stepping around the beds, she crouched a bit to get Janet to look her in the eye. "The only time I see you like this, is when you're talking to me. Everywhere else, you're a mask of indifference. Janet, are you attracted to me?"
"Oh, you have no bloody idea," Janet replied in a hush and a completely British accent, before she flushed beet red and looked away with her mouth open. "I can't believe I said that. I didn't just say that. I couldn't have said that. No, I definitely did not just say that."
Eyes wide, Sam took the babbling redhead by the shoulders and kissed her. Mouth stopped and occupied, Janet melted with a huge sigh. Tingling all over her body, Sam didn't know that Janet was pouring everything into it. Her emotions, her hormones, her magic… everything. Four months of stumbling around the blonde, both from simple proximity to being in various states of undress. It was a nightmare that just sprouted the light fantastic.
Five minutes later, Janet pulled their lips apart and rested her head on Sam's shoulder. "Ohhh, Merlin, that was bloody brilliant," she breathed. "Can we do that again?"
Sam didn't know what to think. This was a simple lark that just tipped her world sideways, not to mention she was fucking drenched now. Looking down, she saw the dreamy smile on the redhead's face. While Janet's eyes were closed, Sam could tell that she felt it too. "Holy Hannah," she replied just as softly. "Any time you want."
Just seeing Janet's hopeful and bright smile when she opened her eyes… Well, she thought she was beautiful. After another ten minutes of just kissing, she was hooked.
Colorado – Spring 1987
Since the dorms weren't all that private, Janet convinced Sam to move in with her at her two bedroom flat a month later. Officially, they were flatmates. Unofficially, there was only one bed being slept in at any given time.
She lasted all of two weeks before she blew the Statute of Secrecy. Janet was indecisive on how she wanted her hair, and was in front of the bathroom mirror flipping her short wand about, styling her hair in different ways. She ended up leaving it in a French braid, when she noticed Sam's gobsmacked expression at the door.
"Shit," Janet muttered.
Sam was busy working her mouth. No sound was coming out other than her tongue clicking and her jaw clacking. The oddest series of expressions were coming out of her face at the same time.
Janet counted to ten in her head and noticed a bit of a blue tinge coming from her girlfriend. "Breathe, Sam!"
"How the hell did you do that?" Sam half shouted, before going into her own babblefest. Hers was related to science, the laws of physics and the improbability of everything.
Janet used Sam's own trick and kissed her to get her to hush. After a bit, she pulled back and smiled in a wincing look of dreading hopefulness. "Better?"
"Yes. How'd you do that?"
"Magic."
"Bullshit."
Blinking, Janet took her to the living room and figured the night out was a wash. Getting Sam to sit on the couch, she sat on the other side of the coffee table and held up her wand that she got from the DOM, the only one she used any more.
"This is a wand. Unlike those idiots on stage, this one does whatever I tell it to." She then went through a series of charms, starting with the simple light spell and going through to her patronus. (As an aside, her patronus changed to a falcon after she became a woman for some damned reason) After charms, she went through basic transfiguration.
By the time the table had turned into a zebra, Sam had a mental meltdown. "How is this possible? My girlfriend is breaking all the laws of physics and she looks bored or resigned or something while doing it!"
A/N2: Bleargh. Half asleep. Have a thought that this will be atrocious, as well as short. Should be another highlight chapter or two before we get back to the present.