Note: Chapters 1, 5, 6, and 7 have been reposted as of 11/17/06. 5 and 6 have a few new paragraphs, and 1 and 7 just have minor editing.
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This fic will begin to remerge with the canon at this point. I will do my utmost to avoid recounting too much of OotP. Let me know if there's too much or too little information. Unless something in the story contradicts it, assume the events are as told in OotP.
Harry stood behind his chair at the small table, waiting for Voldemort. There was one elaborate place setting for him, with three spoons, four forks, and two knives. As usual, the Dark Lord's place setting was limited to a single goblet. This one was beaten gold, worn smooth from use, with a vague suggestion of a wave pattern etched into the metal.
Forcing himself not to fidget, Harry waited impatiently for his 'host' to arrive. Sesphie had presented Harry with an engraved invitation to this 'dinner party', to which he had to properly reply. Sevilitee was always chirping, "Practice makes perfect!"
Voldemort entered the room and took his seat. Harry followed suit, carefully spreading his napkin in his lap. A house-elf ladled a serving of vegetable soup into Harry's bowl. Frowning, the elf added a few more carrots before backing away from the table.
Harry took a precise sip and said, "It's wonderful. Thank you." The house-elf beamed. Mr. Sevilitee had scolded him for addressing the 'help', so Harry took special pains to do as often as possible. To his disgruntlement, Voldemort didn't seem to notice.
As the house-elf was removing Harry's empty bowl, Voldemort said, "As we have discussed, you will be returning to Hogwarts on September 1st." Smiling faintly at Harry's jubilant grin, he added, "However there are further conditions."
Keeping his tone polite, Harry said, "Like what?"
"Firstly, I expect you to receive at least an Exceeds Expectations in all of your courses. If I feel you are not fulfilling your potential, I will make other arrangements for your education."
Harry nodded glumly. Maybe Hermione's homework diary would come in handy after all.
"Secondly, you will wear this," the Dark Lord said, placing a ring on the table. Harry picked it up and examined it. Blooming roses, carved from bone, each held a tiny gem nestled in its centre.
"It's awfully girly," Harry said dubiously.
"It is a potent artifact, and will provide you with certain unique protections."
"Like what?" Harry asked, sliding the ring onto his right ring finger. Feeling a pinch, he pulled at it, only to find it seemingly welded to his skin. "It won't come off!"
"Only your lawfully wedded husband can remove it," Voldemort said.
"My WHAT?!" Harry yelped, yanking desperately at the ring.
"One of our ancestors made it to guard his wife. He bespelled it so that no one else could remove it."
"Unless there is something really fucked up you're not telling me, I'm never going to have a 'lawfully wedded husband'!"
"Of course not. I suppose you'll wear it for the rest of you life, then."
Harry glared at him, struck speechless.
On last evening of August, Harry slid his completed Potions essay into his scroll case. He'd been done a week ago, but then he'd come across a few scraps of additional information he wanted to add. Hermione would be so proud, he thought, grinning. He couldn't wait to see them tomorrow.
He glanced up, his good mood fading a bit. Sesphie's ears drooped sadly as she folded the clothes he'd be taking to Hogwarts. Giving him a tremulous smile, she hissed § Sesphie is finding Young Master's jumpers. But they is old and worn out. § Harry's eyes filled with tears as she presented him with three square pillows—the remains of his first three Weasley jumpers. He'd worn them nearly every weekend until he'd outgrown them, not minding the growing runs or unraveling sleeves. They had been stuffed, and the arms removed and the holes knitted together.
He hugged his transformed jumper from his first ever real Christmas, and gave Sesphie a tearful smile. §Thank you so much.§
The Death Eater (Harry had no idea which one, thanks to Voldemort's glamours) set the last of Harry's three shrunken trunks into his hand cart, gave Harry a polite nod, and apparated away. Harry resisted the urge to casually throw his cloak over the trunks, feeling a bit embarrassed by his good fortune. They were gorgeous, like the expensive pieces he had seen in some of Aunt Petunia's British Museum catalogues. One was black, with inlaid patterns of a silvery wood and silver fittings, one was warm shades of honey and dark brown, and one was an off-white carved with dragons, trees, and houses in an Oriental style. It reminded him of the ivory Chinese puzzle balls he'd seen at a museum on a school field trip. If it hadn't been so large, he would have guessed it was ivory. He'd been informed that two were for clothing and the third for everything else.
He'd rather wished he'd had a chance to investigate them away from Ron's jealous eyes.
Harry squashed that uncharitable thought, and focused on finally seeing his friends again. Ironically, this stood a good chance of being his safest year at Hogwarts yet. He dropped his trunks off with the pile of luggage being loaded onto the baggage car, and set off to explore this corner of magical London.
He'd never been to the magical side of King's Cross, except the platform itself. While the Muggle side was just a utilitarian train station, the magical side was colorful, fragrant, and exciting. Beautiful clockwork machines spat out maps if you fed them Knuts—Harry got pocket editions of Let's Go Muggle London and Must See Magical London and a constantly updating map of London's Underground and bus system. One version even gave the reader precise instructions when from the current location to the chosen destination, but frankly that struck Harry as a bit lazy. He did get the version with the You Are Here indicator. Magical GPS, he thought bemusedly.
There were trains going to Dublin, Paris, Istanbul, New York—all over the world. The most impressive platforms had gleaming white marble arches over their entrances, each bearing the crest of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang. The term 'trains' turned out to be a misnomer—a generic term for the seemingly endless forms of transportation. Sleds pulled by reindeer, flying carpets, steamboats that puffed clouds of colorful, sweet-scented smoke—it was amazing. While Diagon Alley was a staunchly British area, King's Cross was an international bazaar.
Tiny kiosks sold magical merchandise from all over the world, thought at greatly inflated prices. However, Harry had a generous pocketful of Galleons. Catching a fresh, delicious scent, he followed it. Tanned men unloaded a crate full of pineapples. "Straight from Hawaii! Harvested less than an hour ago!" the vendor bragged. Each load of produce was brought before uniformed Ministry inspectors, who cast a series of spells to eliminate any bugs or diseases. Harry laughed to himself when he spotted the enameled fruit pendants that the officials wore. Though he wasn't quite sure of the ranking system, he did figure out that more fruits meant higher rank. The stuffiest man had an apple, a pear, a banana, a plum, and a pair of cherries shining merrily from his cap.
After sampling dozens of strange fruits and vegetables (and slipping bits of the best ones into his breast pocket for Nahual) Harry ended up with a net bag full of fresh pineapples, muscadine grapes from the southeastern US, custard fruit from Thailand, and Chocolate Pudding fruit from Mexico. A dimpled witch smiled as she cast shrinking and preservation charms over his purchases. He finally had a chance to satisfy his pizza craving at a geniune New York pizzaria (the man behind the counter was wearing matching New York Yankees baseball cap and robes), then made his way to the Express.
He moved amoung the families, holding his his head high. For the first time, he would be traveling to Hogwarts dressed like a proper young wizard, instead of a bum.
Choosing, as usual, a compartment near the rear of the train, Harry settled in, trying to read his Ancient Runes book. Those wishing to test into the class were expected to sit the exam within the first two weeks.
"Crookshanks, come back here!" a familiar voice ordered. Smiling, Harry opened the door. The immense cat strode into the compartment and sniffed Harry all over, even trying to stuff his entire head into Nahual's pocket. The serpent peeped irritably, and the cat gave one last sniff and retreated. Seemingly satisfied, he settled onto the velvet cloak Harry had left folded on the seat, and promptly went to sleep.
"HARRY!" Two voices shouted together. Harry barely managed not to cry as he was wrapped in welcoming arms.
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Many thanks to those who reviewed.
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Aimee—If you have any recs for other good Heir!Harry stories, let me know!
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Meggplant—Extra thanks for the long, wonderful review! It really got me revved up to write more! There will be a flashback in Ch. 21 showing Harry's reaction to his marks. Malfoy and Bulstrode will show up more, don't worry. I'm glad you liked the incest plotline...I think Voldemort is definitely screwed up enough to pull something like that!
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And extra thanks to K, who offered me great suggestions for my rewrites of 1-3.
Rewrites of chapters 8, 9, and 10 in the works. Let me know if you have questions or concerns!
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