chapter three: deals with the devil {year one part one}

"Don't tell Dumbledore. Please, don't tell Dumbledore," Harry says, getting alarmingly close to begging.

"I am sworn to secrecy on all wands, Heir Potter."

He lets himself slump with feigned relief. Inside, he begins to carefully calculate how to manipulate the situation.

Harry sighs, allowing himself to collapse into the chair behind the desk, a few days before the train will take him away to Hogwarts. He runs a hand through his messy black hair, debating to himself over how he should act. If he's going into Slytherin-which is the most likely option-then he'd have to tread extremely cautiously. Not only was he in danger from the Dark Lord-at least at this point-but he's also in danger from Dumbledore, and most of the Weasleys. Of course, he could try to…

He cocks his head, a smile forming on his face. 'Ade, I'm changing my bet to Gryffindor.' He whispers, using their unique connection as he buttons up his cloak. He curls up on the couch, after checking the time-still several hours before he had to leave-and closes his eyes, leveling out his breathing. He feels himself sink into his mind, and he blinks.

When he opens his eyes (not truly-and yet, it feels like it. You have to be careful behind someone's Occlumency shields; you could very well die, physically and mentally, or be locked away forever, or be forever ruined-that's why Occlumency was labelled as a Dangerous Class V Dark Arts, while Legilimency wasn't, nevermind the mental damage and who's attacking who.) he sees a dark room. He's sitting on something slightly squishy, and he flicks his hand, supreme in his own realm. A flame appears, causing the Devil's Snare to hiss and to retreat.

While normally he would appear in his 'private study'-a combination of the most sensitive information that he has, combined with his magical Well of power-he wanted to ensure that his defenses were as strong as ever.

He lands softly in a room that was filled with sharp reflections, distortions of reality. In front of him, a darker, twisted version of him waits, green eyes glowing with power. "You cannot escape me.." It murmurs quietly in Parseltongue, face and clothing splattered with blood.

"When the time comes, I will not run." Harry replies easily, and steps through the mirror, which turned into a liquid, similar to mercury. A finger twitch, and he has a small ball of soft yellow-orange light following beside him.

His footsteps echo throughout the hallway, seemingly endless. A roar almost startles him, but he doesn;t cringe away from it, having nothing to fear inside of his own mind.

Standing between intruders and the entrance to his mind is a huge creature, with wings and claws seemingly made of glowing golden mass, molten and bubbling. Chryseus, a creature of his own imagination. A long neck, with white-gray fur, and a human-like face, a mouth full of far too many teeth. It has horns, as well; black horns, filed to a point. And it's tail has a large, dangerous stinger attached to it. As he had created it, Harry knows that the acid would destroy the mind the longer that someone stood in it's presence. If it touched you with it's claws or wings, they were frozen here, locked into a golden form-like the King Midas myth, from ancient Greco-Roman cultures. Perfect for protecting your mind; dangerous for anyone else.

Harry turns after it bows, knowing it's master was here. Around the edges of the chamber, the areas where the statues used to stand were gone. He frowns, but continues onwards, setting into the final chamber. The flickering torch light is gone, suddenly, as a darkened mist crawls forwards, enveloping Harry, blurring the shapes around him. It was endless, unless one knew the trick-

Harry pressed the tree knot, and the Whomping Willow smashed around him, but a small hole opened. He slipped through, finally ending up into 'Hogwarts.' As a giant magical castle, there were plenty of places to hide memories away. He opens the doors into the castle, and turned left, towards the second-floor girl's bathroom. He had contained the Horcrux in him to the Chamber.

Stepping carefully down the damp, water-logged steps, Harry flicked his hand, conjuring a small ball of light to float alongside him, one of his spells- Lūmion abdĭtvoir-caeco, a light for exploring without alerting others to one's presence. Sighing as he reached the bottom (He had several questions for Salazar Slytherin, chief among them why he had shoved the Chamber on the second floor girl's bathroom, and how he folded space so neatly so no one would notice the straight passage downwards, as the pipe only curved at the end), Harry's green eyes glanced around, and he felt no traps, as expected. He continued onwards, reaching the Ouroboros-Hydra hybrid door. "Open." He hissed, narrowing his eyes when the door didn't move. "Open." One of the snakes blinked at him-

Wait-it should be a stone snake, how could it blink-

The stone snake attacked Harry, forcing him to roll to the side. The stone around it's scales shattered when it hit the floor, like porcelain. Harry cursed, not having a chance to stand up as the snake attacked again. Harry studied it in the few seconds that he had gathered. It had a yellow underbelly, and mostly black scales (but there wasn't a lot of light down here, besides the small bobbing yellow light that reflected it's eyes, so Harry could be mistaken) with what looked like lighter gray stripes between them. But, of course, studying it didn't help, because his study was on the other side of that thrice-cursed door!

He slashed his hand downwards, desperately chanting. "Caecĭtai est latebria!" The yellowish eyes of the cobra (it's hood flared as Harry cast the spell) became black, causing it to hiss and throw itself blindly towards where it thought he was. Pausing, it began to scent to air, and slither slowly towards Harry. "Niholfacio fel, Adustio sagacitus." The last spell Harry directed at the air where he had been walking, causing a faint burning smell to appear for a few moments.

It began to hiss, and toss it's head around in confusion as it's sense of Harry's smell as well as the previous scent trail it was following, allowing Harry precious moments to think. His spell knowledge hadn't been impaired-which was excellent, otherwise it would've been very difficult-but he couldn't get into the door. "Ossivius." He whispered, pouring in dark magic. walking over to the door and turning his wrist as though he was turning a key. A cold-almost metal-feeling swept over him, before condensing into a skeletal key. He twisted it in the air before the door, and the stone snakes hissed in unison. He pursed his lips, annoyed when they didn't move.

He cupped his hands together, and focused on his wellspring of magic, and gathered a bit of it. It began to gather around him, and he looked at his arms. Where once the magic was a Light Gray, draped around his arms and hands like a well-fitting cloak, it was now Neutral Gray, and flickered around him like heatless, lightless, gray flames, leaping around his arm like a bird, not wanting to be caged.

Harry focused it into a tiny pinprick of fire, coalesced in between his hands. It looked like a speck of ash. Levialure, he think, breathing his will into this tiny pinprick of ash. It flew forwards even as Harry desperately backed away.

He didn't even hear the explosion as he was thrown backwards, some of his magic instinctively shielding him from the hard impact into the wall. He stood up, and flicked his hands at his ears, fixing them, before flicking his hands at the exit. "Trum septis beluas continere." He incanted, and a black wall of flames erupted, roaring. The air around the barrier seemed to freeze, and Harry continued on, easily sidestepping the cobra's decimated corpse.

He strolled through calmly, bobbing yellow light at his shoulder. His footsteps echoed, and the black water reflected him, as he was-an older man, with wild black hair, and green eyes glowing with ethereal power.

Of course, outside of his reflection, he looked like he did outside of his mind: short, eleven-year old, long hair Harry Potter.

He looked up at the Study, and sighed. "Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

The mouth opened, and Harry flicked a hand at himself. "Alarte Ascende." He flew upwards, and managed to just catch onto the lip of the ledge. He found a foothold and pushed himself up, into a roll. He glanced up, meeting scarlet eyes, and a smile curled at his lips. "Hello, Voldemort. Would you like a cuppa?"

Harry was on the train first. He knew this because every single compartment was completely empty. This was the reason he'd gotten up at such an early time; he could choose a compartment.

He came to a stop in front of a middling compartment and slipped inside, taking out his soon-to-be Untraceable cypress wand, and began to cast quite a few wards on the door, hoping to not be interrupted during the train ride. He flicked his wand, casting a spell to rid the wand of any extra magical residue, as it may interfere with the magical flow of the ritual. He smiled a bit, remembering the time where Mione forgot to do this, after reading about various rituals in Avalon that she had wanted to try. Even now, quite a bit later, he could still remember her sitting in the libraries of Avalon, speed reading, huge bookshelves around her like the welcoming arms of a giant.

(Well, the libraries were amazing. Then again, that may be Harry's Ravenclaw instincts crowing in happiness as they remembered seeing the sheer amount of books.)

He hummed, taking out a self-inking quill, and writing down a few spells that he wanted to try. He hummed, taking out his cypress wand, and placing it on the floor. Carefully drawing a chalk circle around it, in white, and measuring the directions he began to draw additional symbols, to stabilize the ritual. He took out a small ruby, some quartz, and various other crystals associated with cleansing. Sighing, he began to chant in Greek. "Καθαρίστε αυτό το ραβδί από τυχόν ίχνη άλλων μαγικών σε αυτό. Καθαρίστε το από κακή πρόθεση απέναντί μου και το δικό μου Καθαρίστε μου από κακή πρόθεση μέσα από αυτό και καθαρίστε με από εξωτερική επιρροή μέσω του δεσμού μου με αυτό το ραβδί."*

His wand began to glow with a clear red light, which swirled around it before condensing into a small stone, which was thickly opaque-it reminded Harry of amber, if amber was red and was filled with grey-white swirls of "smoke" which crackled occasionally. Harry leaned down, to pick it up, when it suddenly shot up, and then embedded itself into his wand.

Worried, Harry quickly picked it up, shivering as an unknown energy rushed through him. It withdrew, and the stone was filled with another tendril of smoke, but this one was black as the night. He sighed, relieved that his wand wasn't hurt, and that the ritual was functioning as it should. He picked up his quill, and wrote down some notes on what had happened, when he asked the ritual to continue to function. The Katharismós stone, as it was often called, was embedded into his wand, just above his grip.

Picking it up, it did not seem any different, and it seemed like it was roughly the same to cast with. Nodding to himself, Harry slips his wand back into the wand holster, hiding it from view, after using it to clean up the traces of the ritual.

Sensing that the train was chugging along, he cast a wandless Finite Incantatem at the compartment door, allowing others to see and sense it again. He took out his Potions textbook to read through it, and see where this world was, in terms of first-year Potions advancements. It was the little things that were different that would trip him up, like the unedited version of a boil cure. Sighing, he took out some red ink jars and a black quill, and began to edit it back to the way that he had remembered it in his world.

Of course, there were only certain subjects that he would allow himself to exceed in. He, in fact, had his whole education planned out; this year, he would be very gifted in Potions (like his family's gift was) and fairly good at Transfiguration, like his father. However, he wouldn't be good at Charms; average, if a bit above. Runes and Arithmancy was were he allow himself to truly shine, as he didn't was to participate in the other classes offered at third-year-really, who needs more Astronomy? Or Muggle Studies?

Shaking his head, he finishes the boils cure recipe, before pausing. This was NEWT level, not a first-year level. Sighing, he flicks his hand, and the red ink siphons back into the ink bottle. This is bound to be a long train ride.

It turns out that the train ride would be interrupted several times. Once by Draco Malfoy, looking for Harry Potter, but Harry managed to make himself into a small, easily impressionable half-blood-a useful pawn. Malfoy left, and Harry goes back to writing down different paths that the universe could take, relying on his alarm spells. As soon as they dinged, everything was put neatly away in seconds, and he was reading about the different types of spells, like the differences between Charms and Transfiguration and such.

The second time Harry was interrupted was 'Mione showing up, with Neville. "Hello," She says, sounding slightly out of breath, "Have you seen a toad?"

Harry smiles at her, choking down half-created apologies (he remembers when Avalon fell to the warfare of Muggles, and the stones collapsing) and manages a pleasant, "Have you asked a prefect for to cast a Summoning spell on…" He trails off, cocking his head to the side questioningly.

Neville sighs, soft and timid again. "His name is Trevor. I-thank you, I just forget things sometimes-"

Harry smiles at him, and laughs softly. "It happens to the best of us, I think. I almost forgot my Potions textbook this morning."

In return, Neville offers Harry a small smile, like the first tentative blooms in spring. Hermione rushes onwards, like she always did tend to do, now that he thought about it. "What's your name? I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and this is Neville Longbottom."

Harry inclines his head politely. "Heir Potter, Heir of House Potter. It's good to meet you, Heir Longbottom, Madam Granger."

Hermione's face twitches into worry, and a hint of anger. "Are you a blood supremacist? Because that's just stupid, if you ask me."

Blunt, the horcrux whispered, definitely a Gryffindor.

"No." Harry said to both, "My-guardian insisted that I learned 'proper pureblood customs,'" Harry wrinkles his nose.

Neville blinks. "Wait-House Potter? Are you Harry Potter?"

His smile falters, just for an instant. "Yes, I am." He twitches uncomfortably. "Just remember what I said about the Prefects and the Summoning charm, alright?"

Hermione's eyes seem to light up. "Oh! I've read all about you-in Modern Magical History, and in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and in the Great Wizarding Events of the Last Century! They say that you defeated-well, You-Know-Who. They don't really give a proper name in the books."

Neville shuffles awkwardly. "C-could we go get Trevor, now? I-I just…" He flushes again, but Hermione nods.

"Oh! Yes, of course. I'll see you around!" She calls over her shoulder, disappearing down the train corridor.

Harry smoothed out his school robes, and made sure that his hair was up like he had been wearing it. He stepped out of the compartment, brushing his hand against his Heir ring, turning it invisible.

It felt like walking in an ethereal plane, stepping off the Express and onto the train station. Seeing the thestrals, nickering softly. The softly painted carriages, painted in softer House colors, pastel greens and blues and golds and even a few black carriages. Hagrid shouting for "Firs' Years, over 'ere!"

He was walking through the past, his past, but also his present and his future, and everything in between. Stepping carefully, like if he stepped too hard, it would shatter and break back into the blackness of the Final Battle, and of the dozens of corpses lined (of later, when Muggles discovered it and they used bioweapons and bombs, and Hogwarts was only a ruin). His hands twitched for a wand.

Cast in a flood of Unsorted students, Harry fades in with them, hoping that no one notices when the thestrals try to canter over to him, as fellow Childes of Death. He follows them, numb, remembering Colin Creevy (Voldemort) and Fred Weasley (Bellatrix Lestrange) and so many others (the horcrux him). His hand twitched for a wand, and he listened for a Caterwauling Charm the whistle of a Muggle bomb falling down down down down down down-

His hands twitched for a wand.

And yet, with every breath, the fear faded, replaced by sorrow and guilt, which got switch for happiness. His first home away from the cupboard under the stairs, besides the libraries that he'd stay in for hours. And the library had boosted him up, towards rebuilding Avalon (ironic how much simple charms could do-you could Accio someone's heart in battle, or Evanesco ruins, if you had enough power).

It felt like flying.

It felt like freedom.

Harry carefully steps onto a boat, before helping Hermione and Neville into the boat. They wait for a few moments, before the boats take off. And then they're past the curtain of green ivy, shimmering slightly in the moonlight (it's Shimmerfawn, his mental library helpfully supplies), and then Hogwarts is there and it's lit up and it's- it's- it's

Harry feels tears gather in his eyes. A Hogwarts not damaged by the war is the most beautiful thing, to him.

McGonagall began her speech. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." Here, she paused, before she went on to describe the Houses, and Harry ignored her for looking around the entrance hall in joy, rippling through him.

She left after a few moments. The ghosts floated through, and Harry smiled. They were much, much shyer after the Battle, and were nonexistent when the bioweapons and bombs happened. (The only reason that Harry didn't kill every Muggle on sight was because even though there were thousands of caustalities on the wizard's side, there was triple on the Muggle's side. He'd gotten his revenge.)

He waited patiently for the Sorting ceremony, his heart seemingly suddenly lodging in his throat. Harry was planning to play the perfect pawn-including getting Sorted into Gryffindor-but it all hinged on the Sorting Hat. Of course, in a few years he'd also have to steal a time turner, but that was a few years ahead.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing thousands of floating candles, and a nebulae of stars, coating the entirety of ceiling. He stepped in line, and listened with half an ear, at least until Hermione gets sorted into Gryffindor. She was-she was a Ravenclaw in his world. He blinked rapidly, before shaking it off. This was fine. She wasn't his 'Mione, but no one else was the same, either.

Neville got Gryffindor-another difference as well; was Dumbledore (or someone) somehow affecting the Sorting Hat? Malfoy got into Slytherin (Well, he thought, at least there's one similarity). Then it was his turn, and he was stepping up to the stool.

"What do we have here, Mr. Potter? Come to save us from ourselves?"

Harry's lip twitches, but he manages to look like he's think really very hard. "Something like that. Could I go into Gryffindor?"

"Oh? For your plan? Fine, but I'll ask you for a favor in return: free me from the compulsions that the Headmaster put on me, sometime within the next seven or so years. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Time to face the music.

Harry stepped into the inner sanctum of the Chamber, his footfalls echoing around him. He has his wand out and ready, and is sharply at attention. Standing in front of Salazar Slytherin's portrait is a mid-Twenties looking Tom Riddle. Harry twitches, about to call out again, but Tom turns to face him. "Hello there, Harry." His voice was low and smooth, and his eyes had flecks of crimson in them, "We need to talk."

*"Cleanse this wand of any traces of others' magic on it. Cleanse it of ill intent towards me and mine. Cleanse me of ill intent through it, and cleanse me of outside influence through my bond with this wand." This is (or should be) roughly what the Greek translates to. I used Google Translate for this, so I'm super sorry for any inaccuracies!

haha whoops it's been a minute

i swear i was working on this chapter, but i jus-

ahhhh

i rewrote it many, many times before settling on this one.

im also now looking for a beta reader, for this story-and maybe more? im working on something, but it's- very dark? anyways, shoot me a message if you'd like to beta read!

this story is crossposted onto Ao3 by me, so if you like that format more it's also over there!