TWO

Harry gaped at the manor in front of which he was standing. Ragnok had, indeed, gone over the wills, and Harry had found out that he owned ten manor houses sprinkled all throughout the world, as well as several cottages, a couple of villas, and more gold and stocks than he could ever dream of. Added to that, he was owner of the Magique Quotidiennement Nouvelles in France, the Magisk Daglig Nyheter in Norway, the μαγεία καθημερινός νέα in Greece, and the магичен всекидневен новина in the Republic of Bulgaria. He also owned several buildings in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, which, in this time, were destroyed during the battles. He vowed to find suitable tenants to let the storefronts, so that he could ensure that his other self would want for nothing.

Behind what looked like a dilapidated stone wall, with a rusted gate, was an overgrown field, full of scrubby brush and dead, dry grass. However, Harry knew that it was a ward in place, to make muggles think that the area was desolate and useless. He knew that his manor stood behind it, and all he had to do was prove he was a Potter to have access to it. So, he cut his hand and placed his bloody palm against the ward stone embedded in the stone wall on which the front gate was attached, flinching at the bright flare of light before the wrought-iron gateways drifted open, allowing him entrance. He walked up the cobblestone drive to the expansive wraparound porch, standing in front of the structure for a moment, heart beating wildly at the thought that he owned this magnificent house. He jumped slightly at the pop of a house elf, who bowed lowly to him before straightening and hopping excitedly. "Master Potter! Master Potter!" it cried, clapping its hands gleefully. "You is finally being home! Welcome home, Master Harry James Potter sir!"

The wards had been set, and the house elves had been briefed on what Harry had to do. Because the protections were very ancient, it took a bit of time, and education from the elves, for Harry to adapt them to protect himself and little Harry from the wizarding world. He also ensured that there would be a pensieve available, with the requisite memories, that would appear as soon as his magical signature registered in the manor. It was insurance against any Ministry interference.

With the manor set up, and insurance policies littered throughout his life, he apparated to Stonehenge on June 21, the ritual items tucked into his robe pockets. He waited until the dark of the full moon, on the third day of the pagan holiday of Litha. He picked the summer solstice because it marked the halfway point in the solstices, and had great power.

After the muggles had all left, Harry went to the middle of the monument and set up his ritual items on the circular stone slab in the center of Stonehenge. The raven began by sprinkling frankencense and pepermint around the inner edge of the circle of stones making up the structure, to purify the area for his ritual. He then set seven candles around the perimeter of the slab in alternating colors of yellow and red. He sat in the center of the circle and lit each one with his breath. He then set up a gourd in which he placed mugwort and wormwood, along with seven drops of his blood, and set the contents alight.

Closing his eyes, he began to murmur the ancient Druidic spell that Luna had given him, keeping his mind on his destination. He wanted to appear on July 31, 1983, on the steps of Potter Heaven, the name he'd given the home he set up for himself and little Harry. Winds started to blow as a vortex began to open. Harry chanted louder over the roars of the wind, and in the blink of an eye, he winked out of existence. All that was left of him were the candles, their flames guttering in the dying breezes.

"Ooofff!" he gasped as he landed, hard, on the porch of his manor. Instantly, the doors opened and a house elf stood in the entryway, glaring at the intruder with violence in its eyes. "Stand down, Tippy," the raven murmured as he struggled to regain his feet. Bulbous eyes widened at the young man, and she was instantly bent over, nose squashed into the floor.

"I is being sorry, Master Harry Potter sir," she mumbled softly. "I is not being recognizing you."

"That's all right," the young man said with a smile. "I'm glad that you remember me."

"Time travel is being nothing for house elves," she said with a grin. "We is being able to being slipping in and out of time streams easily. I is being sent back to being helping you."

"Good," Harry murmured as he walked into his home. His home. He breathed deeply of the lavender-scented air, before turning to his elf. "Now, I have a couple of things to take care of, then I'm going to go get Harry. From this moment on, I will be known as Killian Chastain Potter."

"Yes, Master Killian."

Diagon Alley was a breeze. With his altered appearance, no one took any notice of Killian as he went to Gringotts with the vial of memories and his paperwork. Two hours later, he had the key for Harry's heir vault, and an accounting of the Potter fortunes. Dumbledore had dipped his fingers into Harry's family coffers, under the guise of 'care for the child', but, once the young man had explained things, the money was returned, with interest, from Dumbledore's vaults. His access to the child's fortunes was also cancelled, now that a true relation of the boy was present, and willing to take over care of the Boy Who Lived.

Killian then apparated to the park near number four, Privet Drive, and instantly fell to his knees as his head nearly split wide open in pain. From the house down the street, screams could be heard as the horcrux within both Potters self-destructed. Once the young man had his senses about him again, he stood and ran down to the nondescript home, jogging up the walk and bursting through the front door just as the three year old child was dragged from his cupboard.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Vernon bellowed as he saw the well-dressed young man run toward him. The beefy man's arm was up in the air, a belt in his hand, and it was apparent what the muggle was intending to do. Grey eyes narrowed, Killian punched the fat whale in the nose, breaking it and knocking him away from the small child.

"It's all right, Harry," he murmured softly, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around the toddler. "I'm here to take you home."

The translations are as follows:

Magique Quotidiennement Nouvelles-magic daily news in French; Magisk Daglig Nyheter-magic daily news in Norwegian; μαγεία καθημερινός νέα-Magic Daily News in Greek; and магичен всекидневен новина-Magic Daily News in Bulgarian.