Kithrin's Cerebral Flatulence

Story 2: The Spirits.

Lilly Potter was desperate. Her husband had stupidly switched secret keepers. She never trusted the rat, and personally, though her or her husband would be the best choices. HP/Ghost1/Ghost2

Sirius would be a distant third, simply because he wouldn't be under the protections.

That was a week ago, and she was searching through the books she had Sirius bring for a way to protect her son.

Her husband thankfully never saw the books, and she had sworn Sirius to secrecy. The books were on her natural magic's inclination.

Necromancy. So far, the best choice she found was to bind several powerful spirits to her son to protect him.

The spirits, if they were powerful enough, could even defeat the killing curse.

And so, as the clock went from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am on October thirtieth after drugging her husband, she went to work.

She knew that performing the marking on the thirty-first was the best time, but she had a bad feeling about waiting, so she decided to do the midnight at the start of Halloween instead of the one at the end.

Silently apologizing to her son, she numbed his body and started carving eldritch symbols onto his back, all the while chanting a language that anybody but another necromancer would call absolute evil.

Soon, her one-year-old's back was covered in the symbols and so she moved to his front. After a total of three hours, she carved the last one onto the child's body. They then flashed and faded to a faint, barely noticeable webbing of scars.

With an exhausted sigh, she kissed her son's forehead and headed to her bed.

The symbols started searching among the dead for those that fit the criteria.

They must be powerful enough to defeat death.

No other criteria were actually added because she didn't want to limit the results.

Oh and because the summoning, and binding them to protect Harry parts took so much room she barely managed to add that part.

The runes started charging the moment the flash had occurred and would be ready to go off in twenty-two hours.

Twenty-one and three-quarters hours later, James Potter died due to the dark lord attacking.

Less than fifteen minutes later the cooling body of the boy's mother was slumped against his crib.

Then the monster in the general shape of a man cast the killing curse once again... and it stopped midway to the child.

Two young female ghosts materialized in front of the boy. (EN) One had long black hair that covered most of her face, but you could still see her glowing orange eyes. She was barefoot and wearing a red dress, that clearly showed her gray skin. (EN2).

The other had short chestnut hair, glowing red eyes, and was wearing a striped shirt, sneakers, and jeans. (EN3)

They both looked to be nearly eight years old.

And then the one with the orange eyes jerked her head, and the green light went back to its caster.

The monster was knocked backward, but his Horcruxes stopped him from moving on.

The red-eyed ghost, gripped her hand, and a solid red blade of energy that looked like a kitchen knife appeared in her hand, and with one motion, sent an arc of red at the Dark Lord, who was so dazed that he couldn't dodge or block, and so was cut in half.

Orange noticed that the being was still alive, and so pyrokinetically incinerated everything in the building except a foot around the boy and his crib, and telekinetically lowered the protected section to the ground floor.

"Now what?" Red eyes asked. "We can't exactly take care of him like this.

"Hopefully someone will come and help, I broke the protections on the building so that others will see it," Orange stated telepathically. It was then that a large man came and took the boy away... unintentionally dragging the ghosts along.

After being left with a spiteful aunt, both spirits knew that they would have their work cut out for them.

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Seven years later, Harry wasn't an underfed runt, skinny yes, badly underfed, no.

When the Dursleys attempted to underfeed him, food would move to him.

They had tried to punish him, but every time they tried, they failed. It didn't take long for at least Petunia to realize that something was there protecting the boy.

Or multiple somethings, as sometimes when looking in the mirror she sees something over her shoulder, glaring at her.

She had seen at least two different things doing it.

She was now convinced the boy was haunted, so she made sure Harry wasn't too badly underfed or abused.

Her husband had tried to beat him once with a belt, he nearly died when the belt wrapped itself around his neck and strangled him until he passed out.

He had then been cut and a message left on his own blood. "Do not attack Harry again... or else"

What's worse for her is that the boy can see the spirits. He talks to them and sometimes looks like he's hugging air. This was causing him to develop a reputation around town even at his young age about him being unhinged, although in a comparatively harmless manner.

The second part of his reputation was worse. That he was bad luck. Things kept happening around him. People getting hurt in accidents, things getting lost, and even a person having a psychotic break. All of which happened when the boy was near, and to those picking on him, or n the case of the psychotic break attempting to kidnap him.

The police were still trying to find out who the blonde man in the mental hospital is.

And these were just the subtle things happening.

There were the cases like the time a car that was about to hit the boy being sliced in two, with the halves going around him.

Or the dismembered body of a madman threatening him with a stick.

Yet another John Doe.

This lead to the parents warning their children about the boy, and the boy becoming even more dependent on the beings the neighborhood thought were imaginary friends.

By the time he found others that would be able to see them fully, it would be too late, he would be entirely dependent on them for companionship.

One odd thing was that they had started aging with him when he caught up to their physical age.

He had no idea that it was because both of them were so powerful.

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It was Harry's eleventh birthday, and it was ironic that the Dursleys unwelcome, much more so than their nephew at least, caused them to not have to deal with a flood of letters.

After the second day of the increasing numbers of letters, Orange made a field around the house causing anybody or anything with the letters to drop them in the outside trash bin.

Harry was of the opinion that if they wanted a reply, they should've included an address.

During the last couple of years he had started to learn some tricks from his friends, he wasn't even at five percent of their power, but he was slowly improving.

It had just turned to July thirty-first when a loud banging, followed by a crash was heard from the front door. Angry at having his sleep interrupted he turned to his companions, and said," if whoever did that doesn't have a very good reason for breaking in, gut him or her. He then got dressed and marched down the stairs.

At this point, the Dursleys were at the top of the stairs, and they let him pass without incident. One positive that they had experienced about him being there was that robbers never succeeded in stealing anything, and the time a murderer broke in, well he was the only death.

The very large man was walking towards the stairs when he saw a very pissed Harry stomping down the stairs.

The man opened his mouth, when Harry beat him to it, "Alright asshole, why did you break into the house? And it better be good, or I'll make sure you don't leave... alive." the then formed a flickering red blade similar to Chara's.

The big man was taken aback by the threat, and started fumbling around in his pocket, and pulled out an envelope, and started to explain what he was doing there.

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he snarled, "you broke in, at midnight, with a letter, that I have at least three of, that was completely pointless since it didn't have a return address? You couldn't of, I don't know, came at a decent time? Or put a damn return address on it? Get lost!"

The ban started blubbering about why he was there, and then he felt like a knife had been plunged in his arm, with the corresponding wound.

Harry had made a stabbing motion in the air while Chara actually performed the wound.

The large man had been too distracted to notice the ghosts.

"Leave, and never come back," Harry snarled.

The large man, looking at the boy's eyes, knew he was serious, and so he left. He would have to tell his boss that he wasn't allowed near Harry again.

He hadn't even been able to give him his birthday cake.

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At ten am the next day, a severe-looking woman was walking down the street. She was going to visit Harry, and hopefully, get him to Hogwarts. She had heard of how Hagrid had bungled his introduction. Really, breaking in at midnight? That's a recipe for disaster.

Finding number four, she knocked on the door. She was wearing a dress that was quite fashionable... one hundred years ago.

The door opened to reveal the boy she had come to talk to, with a red-eyed ghost floating behind him.

"Yes?" the boy asked cautiously.

"I am Professor McGonagall, and I teach at Hogwarts. May I come in and talk?" she asked politely.

"Very well, the Dursleys will be out for a few hours," Harry replied, and let her in. she then noticed another ghost hanging around, and wondered what the hell they were doing there.

And that they seemed only solid and colorful for ghosts.

Harry noticed that she was watching the ghosts, and said, "Oh, you can see them too? They are my friends."

She shook off her shock, and decided to ignore the ghosts, and get down to business, "

I heard you received your letter, why didn't you respond?"

Harry looked at her like he was stupid, and responded, "Just how am I supposed to respond? There's no return address, and Owls aren't exactly common pets."

the professor opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. A muggle raised wouldn't have an owl. "I apologize, It hadn't occurred to me that a muggle raised wouldn't have an owl."

"Is breaking into a child's house at night, common when they don't respond?" Orange eyes sent.

The Old woman's eyes widened as the words were sent directly into her head, and wondered just what the two were.

She shook her head and responded, "No, that was a bad decision by Hagrid. I apologize for that."

"Now why should our Harry go to your school?" Red eyes asked, all the while looking like she wanted to gut the woman across from Harry. Mainly because she did. Harry had done wonders to temper her murderyness.

He pretty much got her to ignore non-threats. The other ghost was easier to temper, but since she was able to be far subtler was able to act more.

The old woman sighed and simply said, "Hogwarts is one of the finest magical schools in the world. There is a danger if a young witch or wizard isn't trained, to both those around them and themselves."

Harry looked at the Orange-eyed ghost, and she nodded, indicated that the woman was telling the truth.

"Very well, where can we get the listed supplies?" Harry responded.

The woman smiled and said, "I can take you there."

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The trip there was uneventful by the woman side along apparated Harry, and his ghosts appearing directly afterward.

After she cleaned up his vomit from her robes, she entered the bank with him, and ten minutes later he walked out a hundred galleons richer.

The first step was the wandmaker, who was almost gutted by Chara.

"Well, nor the first time I've been attacked doing that, but it's closest I've been to being killed," the old man commented while healing the cut that ran down his front and repairing his clothes.

Internally the man was sweating, that had been really close.

"Let's see, Mr. Potter, let's start off with oak and dragon heartstring..." he said and thrust the wand at him.

The next two hours were really really frustrating for all involved, and that was after two wand cores were so badly matched they actually acted like a crucio to the boy simply by him waving them.

The dragon heartstring wands were literally destroying his shop.

Hundreds of wands later, as the last heartstring wand was waved, a box coated with an inch of dust fell on Harry's head, shaken off the shelf by the last explosion.

Curious he opened the box, and within was a wand made out of a wood he had never seen before. He started to reach to grab it, and the wandmaker tried to stop him by saying, "Stop! Don't touch that wand!"

He was too late, and Harry's hand clamped around it.

The wand started bucking and throwing out black sparks when it calmed and to Harry, felt like it was almost purring.

"What's wrong with it? It seems to like me," Harry responded.

The wandmaker wiped his forehead as he looked at the wand.

"Boabab tree, a tree that is believed to hold spirits of the dead, and ectoplasm as a core. A wand I had created fifty years ago, and it has killed everyone who has tried it until you," he then shuddered and said, "Take it and get out!"

Looking at the destruction of his shop, he was glad he had the place insured.

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The rest of the shopping trip went quickly, and they didn't meet anybody during it.

The Dursleys were actually glad that he was going to Hogwarts, it would keep him out of their house for nine months at no cost to them.

Soon Harry was boarding the train, which was easy to find because the professor told him how to get on, to his uncertain fate.

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End chapter.

EN: Was supposed to be 3, but couldn't think of a dead being of similar enough age and considered to be evil.

EN2: Alma Wade

EN3: Chara Dreemer