Okay! I was not expecting the amount of support for this story to be so big right out the gate. Already of 80 alerts and 50 favs. Thank you all for the support. I pushed this chapter out a bit earlier than I was planning to, but I'm happy with the outcome. Hope you guys enjoy my works so far.
PS: To those of you who are pushing for a pairing already, remember that you don't even know what time period. For all you know, your offered ship couldn't even be born yet, or they might be really young. Just hold off until I reveal the time period.
Anyway, onto the story!
*I own nothing, only my ideas, but I can't copyright those either.*
Chapter 2: Time Spent Alone
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Harry James Potter felt his mind fight with the one currently possessing the body he attempted to take. It was wild and energetic, trying to lash out against him and the bit of magic that he sent back with himself. No matter how frantically it tried to overpower him, it was just too weak, its will and direction not having enough power to strike against the strengthened and intelligent mind that was his own. After a few more minutes of internal combat, which was only a second in the real world, the mind of the once manic man was gone, leaving behind its weakened body to the new possessor. As it did so, Harry's remaining magic seemed to affect the body the slightest bit, giving it his familiar green eyes, not that he had a mirror to see.
The once old man stayed absolutely still, his new body now laying flat on the floor. He could feel his control slowly overtake everything, down to the tips of his fingers and the tips of his toes, which was quite the unusual feeling after being handicapped for so long. Cracking open his eyes, the powerful emeralds shined in the nonexistent light of the room. However, as he used his peripherals to look around, he was in no room.
Rather a cage. Or a cell was perhaps a better word.
Finally getting access to his senses, Harry realized that he was surrounded in wild screams and desperate pleas, the cold on his back from the icy stone floor and the pains of hunger in his stomach. The tingling of chill running through his hands and around his legs. This was not what he was expecting when he sent his mind back in time, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
"*sigh* Just my luck." He stated in a voice unfamiliar to himself, more young but grated, most likely from all the screaming of the old owner. It was not as baritone as his old voice, but it was better than nothing.
Suddenly a cold feeling settled over him, painful memories trying to peak into his mind, but he pushed them down with his mental shields. Casting a glance to his side, he came across a unhappy sight.
"Yes. Just my luck." He stated breathily as several dementors descended on him.
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It was twenty minutes later when the dementors finally gave up on him, not able to use their soul sucking powers to break through his barriers and tear into his delicious memories. Harry didn't even know that such a thing was possible, but his shields were so strong that they could not get to what they desired. That was useful information for the future.
Picking himself off the ground, Harry felt his new hair droop down his back, being much too long for comfort. He could probably find something to cut it with later. Looking around at where he was, it was safe to say that he was in Azkaban, what with all the terrified screeching and the dementors enjoying their meals every day. Looking down at himself, he felt a bit of despair. His new body was unfamiliar, as well as gaunt, weak, and disconnected. Trying to place his feet on the ground, he stumbled, his legs not having the strength and his mind not having the familiarity of walking.
This may take a while to get used to.
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It was not how Harry wanted to spend his first month in the past, at least he hoped it was the past, but it was necessary time.
The first problems he learned was that he had to reteach himself to walk, which was not enjoyable in the slightest, especially with the lack of strength in his body. He had to take literal baby steps, but if there was one thing his years of experience taught him, it was patience and a control of his emotions.
The second was his current position. He was in Azkaban, the hardest place to break into and out of in the Wizarding World, unless you were insane like his Uncle or his arch enemy. While he could take a note out of Padfoot's book, that was another problem.
His body did not have the same magical core as before. It was so much smaller than his old one, which could have been a vast ocean compared to the lake he had now. His mind's skills were still strong from his old life, like his Occulemency, but his access to wandless magic would never be what it used to. Such a shame, as he really did love wandless magic after his wand was snapped.
He needed to connect with his new core as well, which was proving difficult, as it was manic and aggressive, much like the mind. Then again, the two usually match in the same person. He had to make it his own, either through submission or through connection, and the former usually ended badly on his part.
After gaining control of his walking within his two weeks in Azkaban, and another two focusing on straightening his body with what little food he could get and exercise he could get, Harry felt himself prepared to connect. He had spent the month whittling away at the core's insanity, easing the power into a more relaxed form, which was quite easy compared to his old magic. It was like training a puppy after spending his whole life taming a dragon.
Crossing his legs, Harry placed himself on the cold floor once more, which was only the lightest bit warmer by the thin threadbare blanket he placed over it. Disconnecting himself from the physical world, from the icy frigidness on his hands to the screams of insanity, Harry descended into his body's magic. Opening his inner eye, not like the trash Trelawney taught, a true internal eye of his magic, Harry looked around at the darkened area, not seeing much like usual. At least there were not tendrils of manic magic trying to kill him anymore.
Placing his feet on the surface of nothing, he began to walk around, playing what could be considered a game of hot and cold with the magic. Looking up, he could see high above was his mind, a shining tower of white and ivory surrounded with magical barriers and high standing walls, practically radiating with the knowledge and time of his old age.
Looking forward again, Harry felt the energy grow stronger, but it was still unseen, as if it was hiding from him. He could feel it growing stronger, but it was still not showing itself. He would find it soon.
It was then that Harry felt a cold energy crawl over him. Almost cursing at the situation, Harry wondered if he had enough time to find the core before dementors tried to attack his mind again. However, the feeling grew much colder, much more than ever before. It was reminiscent to that time he faced dozens of them in his third year at Hogwarts. Harry dropped to the floor of the astral plain, the pain slamming into him.
Opening his eyes and ignoring the pain, he could see the outer walls of his mind be impacted by a malignant force, trying to weasel their way into the cracks, which sealed themselves up by his command. However, it wasn't long until another assault hit him, this time much stronger, managing to knock away at his primary outer defense and make their way to his secondary walls.
This attack was much stronger than any previous assaults. While his mind was quite powerful, he could not take on this many dementors with just his mind alone. He needed his core.
Standing back up, Harry began to look around rapidly, searching left and right for his core. Another blast tore his concentration for a moment, but he continued to mentally multitask, repairing what damage that he could while searching for the core. Feeling a tendril of magic, he ran in its direction following it as far as he could before another blast of cold and raw power slammed into his mind. That was his secondary shield.
Looking around, he managed to catch a glimpse of something, off in the distance, but no less alarming. Running towards it, he continued to ignore the pangs of pain on his mind, which were making quick work of his tertiary defenses.
He was down to his last barriers, which were also his strongest, but it didn't feel like the dementors were ready to give in. They seemed to have taken an interest in him, most likely because of the vast amounts of memories his mind contained. Running forward, Harry arrived at the core, which was not very big, and was cold and dark from disuse. Reaching out his hand, he winced in pain as a tendril of magic grabbed him around the wrist. Instead of fighting, he relaxed, showing the magic he meant it no harm, but it was not too convinced, what with him taking it's original owner's body.
He closed his eyes, fighting off the desperation that wanted to peak in his emotions. He was down to his last defenses and they were being picked and knocked away by the vast amount of soul sucking power just outside his mind.
Reaching his second hand out, he felt the magic do the same to the other wrist. Slowly breathing in and out, he grabbed the magic tendrils that were around his wrists and let his emotions and intent flow, persuading, pleading for the magic to understand his reasoning. Why he took the body and what become of them if he did not do something fast about the dementors. He felt it slip around his arms, grabbing him whole, before it pulled him in. Not expecting this, he tensed up, but he tried to relax. He could feel the last of his great defenses begin to fall, but he couldn't give up now. The magic surrounded him now, judging him, looking him over.
In his mind's eye, he had his original look back, not the frail body that he now had. He was strong, fit, and young. His emerald eyes shined in the water like environment and his rats nest of hair floated around aimlessly. It searched him for his purpose, and check him over not only in compatibility, but in worth and power.
The last of Harry's walls fell and he could feel the power of the dementors charge straight for the library of his mind's memories. One last plea before the dementors reduced him to a mess of frantic mutterings and insanity, just like it's old owner.
The magic decided.
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Harry opened his eyes, staring at the horde of dementors that surrounded him, all of which were trying to feed off of him and tear away at his mind. Taking a deep breath in, he felt the magic, eager to be used, bubble under his skin. It wasn't alot but it was more than what he needed.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A blast of white magic left the palms of his hand, blasting away the dementors and forcing them to scurry away. As soon as the magic left his hand, Harry felt their assault on his mind end, just before they reached his mind's memories. Sighing in relief, he wasted no time in building up his walls once more, taking his time to reinforce them and make them as strong, if not stronger, than before. He never wanted to be in a situation like that again.
After a few hours of that, Harry thought about his new core, which seemed to enjoy being used again. Thinking about his spell, he knew that he had the intent and focus, but it seemed he could no longer make it corporeal wandlessly. Another shame. At least he had enough magic, even if it was built up from disuse, to blast away the dementors from ravishing his mind.
It was the next few weeks that Harry spent focusing on his magical core, which was weak and small compared to his old one. Despite that, he seemed to make an agreement with it. It was like an eager child, wanting to be of use and have fun. Then again, that might be because of how powerful he used to be and how strong he was mentally.
In his weeks of training, he learned that he could still use wandless magic, just not a lot, only a few things here and there before he needed to charge up again. The second was that his core's magic was not grey like it used to be. It was more leaning dark, but no where near dark enough to not use a patronus thank goodness. The last was actually very welcome news.
He could still use his animagus form.
Transforming was much slower and careful , what with having to be careful with the little magic he had, but it was still doable. The best part was, now that he could walk again, so could his panther form, which lost the ability to use its hind legs after his did. It was a total time of two and a half months in Azkaban before he was ready, but Harry had a plan to get out. He knew the very sparse and almost nonexistent patrols of wizard guards, he knew when he was fed and when the dementors liked to arrive, and using his memories of Padfoot's tales of his escape, he knew where the best way to escape from was when you were in the lower/lowest levels of the prison.
He just hoped that Padfoot had not escaped yet in this time period, or his plan would be ruined.
