Love, Death, and Toast!
Chapter One: Good News Everyone
His friends were dead, that was the only explanation that made sense. They'd been through so much together that the thought that they'd abandoned him to the Dursleys at a time like this was laughable. As he waited for Hedwig to return from one last attempt at writing a friend, he realized something was wrong, he couldn't feel Hedwig anymore. It was like having a comforting noise in the background fall silent. He hadn't realized what it meant until it was gone.
Dumbledore rechecked the spells on the cage. "That should do it. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but your owl is too distinctive and it's too easy for someone to place tracking charms on post owls."
If he had known she was Harry's familiar he would never have done it, but he unknowingly severed the bond between the two.
The perch inside the cage creased as Hedwig's talons bit into it with bone-snapping force. She couldn't feel her wizard in here and that upset her. Quite! A! Bit!
Harry felt as if someone had just ripped off a piece of his soul. The world became a dull grey and his scar sent waves of pain shooting through his entire being as he laid on his bed and thought of everything that had happened, from being placed at the Dursleys to Sirius' death. Normally, Harry wasn't given to introspection, but right now he had nothing better to do than lay there and put together the pieces of the mangled and shredded puzzle that was his life. He was making connections between events he really didn't like, like Hagrid being sent to pick him up and Sirius being put in prison without a trial. Everyone knows about events when Harry was the only living witness, and Dumbledore had arranged for Snape to evade prosecution despite being the one who leaked the prophesy to Voldemort, while his Godfather - who worked for Dumbledore - didn't get a chance to plead his case.
And, why was Dumbledore interviewing people in a disreputable tavern, rather than in his office like he'd reviewed every other teacher?
The fact that some of the memories he was reviewing weren't his own went by unnoticed as he struggled to make sense of things.
Molly asking for information about the Express for everyone in the station to hear when she'd been there a minimum of fourteen times as a student, and been there the year before for that matter.
Harry was making connections, and a lot of them connected to Dumbledore's hands. And, speaking of hands, Harry recognized the wand Dumbledore held and the fairy tale connected to it. And, didn't Ron mention something about Invisibility cloaks needing special care every few months? Harry pulled out his Invisibility cloak and examined it. It had been in Dumbledore's care for a decade, so it was possible that Dumbledore had cared for it properly, but Harry had had it for four years and he'd never done anything special to care for it.
Examining the label inside where it read "James Potter", he saw it was held on with a simple sticking charm over an older label. Harry took a tack and pricked his thumb, letting a drop of blood well up. Concentrating on that blood, he cast a quick 'finite'. Technically, what he'd just done was Blood Magic, but since he was inside Blood Wards and hadn't used a wand it hardly mattered. The label fell off revealing a "Charlus Potter" had been the owner before.
Ten minutes and fifty labels later...
Harry carefully stuck the old labels inside his photo album in the order they'd come in. It was nice to know where one came from after all, and his Magical lineage was certainly noble. The slippery silver tag beneath all of the labels read "Harry J. Potter". He wasn't sure if he should be amused or upset with that, but the sigil next to his name was definitely something to be happy about. It was the sign of the Three Brothers. Harry held in his hands one of the Deathly Hallows.
Harry smiled. Things were looking up, he had one Hallow and knew where a second one was. If he could find the third one, he would be in business. Thinking about it, he thought it rather odd that two of the major players in this game owned a Hallow, and wondered if Voldemort might have the third. Of course the third one was just a small stone unlike the wand and the cloak which were easy to find, or at least easy to identify once you found them. Unless the small nondescript stone was mixed in with diamonds, you'd be hard pressed to...find...it.
Harry grinned as he realized he'd seen the Gaunt family ring before, having used it to create a Horcrux...
Wait a second, something was wrong with that thought. Harry had never and would never split his soul to create one of those abominations. What use was creating a Horcrux to extend your life if you were no-longer you?
So, if it wasn't his memory...
Harry quickly slammed up some Occlumency shells and searched for the gaping hole that was his connection with Voldemort, only to find...nothing?
Searching his mind for traces of Voldemort, he was outright stunned to find that he'd sorted and filed all of Voldemort's memories inside his own skull, but rather than the mass of Darkness and corruption he'd expected to find, he found memories with all of the feelings leeched out of them, like he was just remembering a book he'd read. He found he still disapproved of most of the things that Tom Riddle had done, even if he saw some of the logic behind them. Well, the earlier stuff anyway. After he'd created the Diary, it was all downhill on the Sanity Train, leave your logic and your nose behind.
He wasn't sure how he felt about this new development. Sure, he now had decades of accumulated evil in his head, but it didn't seem to be doing much aside from providing a lot of knowledge, and even more lessons on what NOT to do.
He reached up to rub his scar only to find it missing. Dried blood flaked away, leaving smooth, unmarked skin in its place. He began to smile. No more scar for people to stare at, no more stabbing pains when he was trying to sleep. All in all, he was feeling pretty damn good, but he couldn't help but wonder why and his new memories sorted through all the clues.
He had all of Voldemort's memories, and the scar was gone. Voldemort must've inadvertently imprinted...Voldemort had made Harry into a Horcrux, and Harry had just...absorbed it. Fortunately, it was the last Horcrux and therefore the smallest piece possible, giving it little actual power. But why now? What had...Hedwig. Harry's familiar had been torn from him, tearing apart Harry's soul. And, since he had a soul fragment in his possession...
Truthfully, he was surprised that killing Quirrell in First Year hadn't had the same effect. He had been trying to kill him and he'd succeeded, but he was some form of undead at that point anyway, which Harry had really hated for some reason. Ghosts he could understand, they weren't trying to break the barriers death had put up. They were dead and disembodied and accepted it, but Quirrelmort was dead and trying to come back, and that was not allowed!
Harry forced himself to relax. He wasn't sure why he wasn't so angry, but he knew if he ever ran into any vampires or wizards with Horcruxes, he'd shred them before letting them pass on. Forcing his mind from that topic, he began to search for why he was feeling so good and was quite frankly shocked at the answer, or rather answers. He was no-longer connected to Voldemort, meaning he no-longer had the psychic backwash of an insane, evil, and unhappy wizard floating around in his head where he was leaching off his life and magic.
And, speaking of magical leaches...
Harry shuddered in revulsion. The words around the Dursleys were almost as big a perversion as a Horcrux itself!
The Blood Ward that Dumbledore had set up drew almost nothing from Harry, instead it fed on love itself to keep it going. No-one living under that ward could feel any love for anyone else. No wonder the Dursleys were pissed. The day Harry arrived was the day love died. It was little wonder that they depended on material things to fill the hole left in their lives. Harry couldn't let this stand for another moment, and he briefly wondered if this was another plan of Dumbledore's to keep him under control, because as long as that stood, he would never fall in love or care for a girl as more than a friend unless outside magics were involved. And, that could only imitate love, not that the old Harry would've known the difference.
He sighed. Who knew what he had missed with this ward up? He could've fallen in and out of love with a dozen women by now! More life experience denied him by Dumbledore's actions. What use was saving a life if by doing so you made that life not worth living?
He quickly packed up everything he owned - not a lot - and went downstairs. Before the Dursleys could even open their mouths, he quickly quieted them down, using a blood cast silencing spell of course. "Yes, yes, I can do magic without a wand and no-one's the wiser, but that's beside the point. I have discovered that Dumbledore did something completely unforgivable. What's with that 'duh' look? No, placing me here wasn't the unforgivable thing, he did something much worse! You'll all understand in a moment when I tear down the ward he put up around the place."
Harry pricked his thumb with the pin in his pocket so the Dursleys and anyone who looked at their memories wouldn't know how he was casting his spells. Concentrating on the blood coating his right thumb, he pulled at the wards surrounding #4 Privet Drive, finding things much easier than he expected because the ward was based on his blood and he was using his blood to dismantle it.
Over a decade of thoughts, feelings, and emotions hit the four. Fortunately, it was just a pale ghost of what it should've been, but Harry still had to channel a good portion of love based sexual attraction into one of the kitchen appliances to keep from being knocked unconscious like Dudley was.
"That was..." Vernon attempted to explain, but fell silent.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Well, there is no reason for me to be here anymore ever, but I will give you a warning. Wizards can find you now, and unlike me, they would delight in torturing you to death for a laugh, so I would recommend moving far away, like to America. Bye!"
Harry ran upstairs and grabbed his trunk which he dragged downstairs and out the front door, never noticing the toaster following behind him.
AN: Typing by Lucillia!