Chapter 1: Memento Mori
Oct. 31st, 1981
If there was one thing that Voldemort didn't believe in, it was tales of fate and prophecies. No, the dark lord had already circumvented all the so-called natural laws of magic for him to worry about a child, not even a year old. And yet, upon closer examination, one could quite clearly see a desperate Tom Riddle scouring all over England in search for the Potters. The more he searched, the more desperate he became in finding them, Albus Dumbledore had, of course, managed to curtail his attempts to kidnap a member of his order for information but the old wizard had not counted on a member of his order betraying him as soon as he was confronted.
Peter Pettigrew spewed out secrets as if he were under truth serum, cowering under the Dark Lord's gaze. It took all his patience not to kill the man on the spot but as cowardly as Peter was he was also his only way into the Potter's home. The rat had warned him that Dumbledore had placed a dozen or so protective charms around the home, and Voldemort realised that as soon as he stepped through the wards or even tried to banish them, the order would be there immediately.
So he waited, his faithful followers had attacked Sirius Black in the Black's ancestral home, bypassing the wards through Bellatrix Lestrange. The attack had drawn even Lily and James Potter out of their home, leaving custody of their home and the accursed child to Remus Lupin.
Stepping through the protective enchantments was easy enough, Voldemort heard the loud chimes ringing as his form shimmered into a misty black and he flew straight into the window of the upstairs bedroom.
Remus Lupin was ill-prepared to face him, his hand barely reached his wand before Voldemort cast a silent curse into his mid-riff. The Lycanthrope's stomach was cut open, blood poured onto the floor and he found his body quickly follow. The Dark Lord sneered at the pitiful man gurgled before he hastily moved onto his main target.
The Potter Child.
Or rather Children.
His lips curled into a snarl as he realised that Peter had forgone revealing this important detail to him. "How unfortunate." He hissed at the two children, "Think of this as a simple mercy, you will not live long enough to see your parents killed." Voldemort's eyes drifted to the dark-haired child laying in the crib, the boy lay still unlike his crying brother, emerald eyes bore into his furious red.
'How curious.' He thought as he gripped his wand, he would deal with the boy's brother first before inspecting this one.
He pointed his wand at the crying red-haired boy, "Avada Kedavra." A sickening green jet lurched towards the child and striking him in the head. Voldemort could immediately feel something went wrong with the killing curse; the magic pooled there for a moment before it bounced directly into his chest.
He was unable to contemplate what had happened before he let out a soul-piercing scream, his body ripped apart by his own spell leaving but a haze of barely sentient darkness that rushed out of the window and into the world.
Barely a second later, Albus Dumbledore rushed through the door alongside Lily and James Potter. "Remus!" James shouted, rushing towards his friend's still body. "Remus! Can you hear me?" Three fingers pressed against his friend's neck and for a moment he was unable to feel the faintest of pulses. "Professor. He's alive, but barely."
Dumbledore cast a silent spell on Remus, they watched as the blood currently pooling around his body was returned and the cut seemingly disappeared. "That should be enough for now, but he needs medical attention that I am incapable of providing. It is by its nature a particularly persistent curse."
Lily had already rushed towards her children's cribs, relieved to see that both of them were alive and kicking. She turned to Dumbledore who was already approaching them, "Is it true, what Sev said. Is he really gone?"
It was no surprise that neither Lily and James could feel the swirl of magic around them, nor could they possibly infer it's meaning. Albus reached over for one of the children's' forehead, a smile played upon his lips when he saw the lightning bolt etched onto his skill. "Hmmm…Thankfully, it seems the Prophecy was true, after all. We have young Jaime to thank for that."
Lily frowned, "Are you sure? We had assumed that it would have been Harry."
"Prophecies aren't always clear. You'll find events rarely play out as foretold." He couldn't help but look at the older of the twins, Harry Potter lay in his crib, unblinking emerald eyes burned with a familiar impassiveness and power.
He stepped back in pure shock, he whispered, "G-Gellert." It would be years before Lily and James would learn why Albus Dumbledore hurried out of their home that night, making the excuse that he had to take Remus to Madam Pomphrey.
Eight Years Later
Harry Potter was a sickly child, unlike his twin Jaime, he possessed a rather weak constitution that always made it hard for him to do anything that resembled exercise. His parents did not know what was wrong with him, or at least that was the impression that he had gotten from their loud argument. Perhaps, it became even clearer over the coming months after he was forced to ingest dozens of different potions made by his mother to no avail.
As a result of his ailment and the hassle it made for him to constantly receive medical attention under the Fidelius Charm, his parents would often leave him with Uncle Sirius at Grimmauld's Place for weeks at a time. Harry did not mind; Sirius had been much better company than his constantly doting parent. His godfather even allowed Harry to explore the house without an escort, something his parents would not even entertain back home.
Harry stopped in front of a pitch-black door; he had no idea what stood behind it but it had been the only part of the house that he had yet to explore. Thin, bony fingers wrapped around the handle and Harry felt a burning sensation course through his palm, "Argh." He grunted in pain quickly letting go of the handle, his hand seemed to have been embroidered with Black Family Sigil before it faded from view.
A voice sneered at him, "Ha! As if a half-blood like you would gain access to our family secrets."
Harry glowered angrily at the pudgy woman inside the portrait frame, "Do you really have to follow me everywhere I go." Walburga Black was intent on insulting him out of her home after her ploy with the resident House Elf had failed. Harry raised an eyebrow at her smug smile, "I'm guessing this is another invention of yours."
"Right you are. Only a black can open the doo—" The door creaked open to her shock, and the young eight-year-old dragged himself through the door. "What were you saying, you old bat." The room like all of the Black's Ancestral Home was dimly lit, smoky in appearance and incredibly deceptive in its true size. But it was not the appearance that appealed to him, the ancient room was a cross between a library and a collection of sinister-looking artefacts. His fingers reached for the ancient talisman, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you?" Walburga's normally loud and shrill seemed to have taken a harder tone, "Unless you would like for the spirit of an ancient Voodo priest to take over your body."
Harry gulped as he stepped back, he cast an accusatory glare at the painting that stood at the helm of the room. "Don't flatter yourself boy, I did not save you out of the goodness of my heart. There are things in this room that even Voldemort wouldn't touch."
Harry remained entranced by the skull, he could hear the faintest of whispers echoing from it and travelling throughout the room, as if they were guiding him to something. He followed them until he finally stopped in front of the final bookshelf in the room. He grasped an ancient tome with a skull embedded on its cover, there was something about it that drew him to it.
Walburga watched in interest as the boy touched a book that no one except her great grandfather had been able to open. He was in for a rude surprise, she thought somewhat too eagerly. Harry almost dropped the book when the skull's eye sockets glowed a sickening yellow, he immediately felt a sinister desire wash over him.
Yet the sick young boy's mind stood firm. "Get out," Harry muttered softly, the presence never budged, and Harry felt himself being drawn more and more into its gaze. His eyes glowed a combative green, "I said get out of my head!"
Crack.
Walburga winced slightly as an immense rush of magic tumbled throughout the room, crashing against the wards, and almost destroying in a feat of accidental magic. Impossible. It was not possible for mental magic to be powerful enough to affect physical phenomena. Unless it was—her eyes widened in pure shock, and a feeling of dread overcame her.
The skull on the book opened its mouth, and the book sprawled open to the first page. "B-Blu'dakorr." The title of the book seemed to mirror it's outward sinister appearance but it also sounded alien to his ears. The book seemed less like the textbooks his mum used to teach him and more like a collection of notes haphazardly put together.
"You opened it." Walburga sputtered, "No one has been able to open that book besides my great grandfather, Phineas."
"I think I have a chocolate frog of his. He was a headmaster at Hogwarts, I believe." Harry coughed out; he would have to return to his room soon, already feeling faint and dizzy from over-expenditure.
"Just a headmaster! Boy, I would have you know that few wizards in history are more accomplished at the art of mental magic than Phineas." Harry found Walburga's adulation of her Great Grandfather somewhat endearing. The late matriarch of the Black Family once more settled into a contemplative silence.
"Mind magic?" Harry inquired, "Does that include hearing things that others can't hear."
"And what do you normally hear, B-Harry."
"Voices, for the most part, it's mostly gibberish but if I concentrate hard enough, I can make out faint bits and pieces." He scrunched his eyes close together as he focused on Walburga, "You're angry. Something about half-bloods, Potter and…" Harry felt his connection automatically blocked as Walburga stared harshly back at him.
"Never do that again." Walburga hissed out, "There is no greater disrespect than to enter a person's mind without permission."
He shrugged, "You asked, I showed. It's not like my parents believe me anyway, they seem to think that I'm suffering from hallucinations."
"Fools." Walburga said with a steely voice, "But perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. You shouldn't tell anyone about your gift, many would be willing to kill you to steal your abilities."
The young boy nodded frightened at the prospect, Walburga had been surprisingly helpful during his time at the library. He didn't know if it was the fact that he had opened her grandfather's book or something else. So, he plucked up the courage to ask her for help. "Could you umm train me?"
"What?"
"I know that pureblood family often teach their children before they attend Hogwarts. My mother refuses to teach me, but they teach Jaime everything." Walburga noticed his bitter smile, "I want to learn Magic and prove to them that I'm not weak."
"Such a simple reason is not even worth entertaining. Tell me why?"
"Because I am ill, I want to find a way to cure myself. And if that's not enough, I can give you a peek into this book that you're so infatuated about." Walburga found herself smiling at the boy's blatant attempt at manipulating her, he reminded her so much of Sirius. He possessed the same purity that Sirius had as a child, at least before Orion had begun pushing his agenda on him.
"Hmm…Perhaps there is some merit to the blood ward, after all." Walburga's painting settled into her rocking chair, "I expect you to be here every morning at 7 am sharp. If you're not, Kreacher will make you wish that you were."
Harry nodded; he would have expressed his thanks but he doubted he would have been able to utter the words without falling victim to his ever-encroaching fatigued state. He barely made it back to his room before he fell unconscious.
Nurmengard Castle
Time.
Grindelwald had lost all sense of the concept; the only indication of its passage was the greys of his hair and the wrinkles adorned on his bony face. There was no indication for how long he had been here, imprisoned in a castle of his own making.
He let out a little chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Albus knew that the wards at Azkaban wouldn't have been able to hold him, Dementors whilst powerful in their own right were easy for someone like him to evade or hijack. It was why he wasn't allowed to interact with any of the guards, he found it amusing that such talented magicians would waste their lives rotting in this icy wasteland guarding a castle with only a dozen prisoners.
Albus knew, he was sure that he only needed to take one look at his mastery of defensive magic to know that he didn't need guards. Then again, Albus had always never had any appreciation for his mastery of the abstract. He couldn't see what he saw.
He never understood.
But it did not matter anymore, in the end, he had lost and as a result, was forced to remain in this room until he passed. There would be no saving grace, no escape, not even the slightest comfort in this prison.
"Festina Lente."
Grindelwald frowned at the incantation, it was a spell of his creation, one that he had shared with just one other person. The rattling of the metal bars outside the window stopped, he couldn't even hear the raging howling of the wind anymore.
Time had altogether come to a standstill.
"Albus." Grindelwald uttered, "Come to kill me finally."
Fire erupted in the small cell, Albus Dumbledore stepped out from the swirl of flames, wand trained on the chained man. "It has been a while, Gellert." There was no softness in his voice, only weariness and coldness.
"You've gotten better at it. Almost as good as I." Gellert spoke with a mocking tone. Albus never answered he seemed almost frozen as he stared at the condition that his former partner had been reduced to. "So tell me, what would you cause the great Albus Dumbledore to have to sneak into my cell."
"There is another," Dumbledore spoke slowly, casting a charm to heat the room up to an adequate temperature.
"Another?" Grindelwald did not need his sight to guess Dumbledore's next words though he dreaded them, nonetheless.
"Esper."
It was for a fleeting moment, but Dumbledore felt Gellert's indomitable presence flood around him. "You lie." Gellert growled, "There are none left, I was the last."
Albus smiled bitterly, "If I were not sure, would I be here." Gellert contemplated his words for a brief moment, Albus had never visited him since his incarceration. As such it gave credence that he would only visit under such conditions if he wanted something from him—Gellert's eyes widened in shock.
"The curse." Dumbledore nodded solemnly and Gellert felt his already slumped form almost give way to the harsh floor. "Then there is nothing you can do. He will die, like all before him."
"You survived."
Gellert's smile was almost eery, "I never truly rid myself of the curse, I had to give up something very valuable to survive." He tapped his mismatched eyes, "You think if I had been a full Esper you would have been able to defeat me."
Albus sighed, "How long does he have?"
"It depends on how powerful his mind can keep the curse at bay. I have heard tales of some surviving into their late twenties but I have never been able to verify it." Gellert looked down in slight sadness, "I…I'm sorry Albus but there is nothing you can do for the boy. The Ritual I performed required me to fracture my soul and commit atrocities on my soul."
Albus Dumbledore shakingly leaned against the wall, he had spent the better part of eight years trying to find everything he could about Harry's condition. He knew it quite intimately, of course, Gellert suffered from it when he had first met him. "That is quite alright, Gellert. You've been more than helpful."
His wand flourished several enchantments around the room, enlarging it from the almost inhumanly confined space to something akin to a bedroom. Grindelwald noticed several illusionary runes being placed around the room, he had to admit that if it were at all possible, Albus was many times stronger than when they last met.
His spell was slowly waning, and time was beginning to return. Dumbledore made to summon Fawkes when Grindelwald stopped him, "Wait…There is one last thing. I don't have any concrete proof but there were rumours of a book that possessed a ritual to cure the curse. It was called the Blu'Dakkor."
Albus paled at the name, "That's impossible. I thought that the book was a myth."
Gellert pointed a bony finger at the elder wizard's wand, "I remember you once said that about the three hallows. I found some proof of its existence in Paris, I believe it belonged to the Lestrange family before it was stolen."
"You expect me to believe that one of the darkest artefacts in existence would possess articles on Healing Magic. You know why the muggles referred to it as the Blood Bible, do you not."
"I'm aware of the legend, Albus. I am also inclined to believe that only an Esper can truly open the book." Dumbledore's eyes hardened and Grindelwald realised that he couldn't persuade the old wizard to search for the artefact. And he was certain that he wouldn't give it to the boy if he couldn't verify it's contents first.
Time resumed and as suddenly as Dumbledore appeared, he was gone.
A sole icy blue eye glowed in the dark, connected to the faintest traces of magic.
He could see again.
He could see it all.
An almost soft smile played upon Grindelwald's lips, "A Potter, now that is a surprise. I look forward to watching you, Harry." His smile took on a sinister turn even as the guards flooded his cell, alerted by his use of magic.
It didn't matter if they tortured him, or even killed him in that moment.
Grindelwald was secure in the knowledge that there would be another to continue his legacy.
A/N: My attempt at writing HP fanfic instead of another Naruto crossover. I got the idea whilst watching the movies, this is my first HP fanfic so bear with me. Harry's parents don't neglect him but he is isolated from them and his brother due to his illness.
I don't want to spoil anything but a true Esper can be thought of as one step above a normal seer and an accomplished master of mind magic (Occlumancy and Legillimancy). There are reasons why they are rare and so powerful, this will be revealed as the story goes on. If you would like some reference, you could say Harry Potter is the Nate Grey of the universe.
I modified the History of House Black and LeStrange quite a bit, Walburga is still similar to herself in the books but she has legitimate reasons for helping Harry besides curiosity. Harry will be dark but that is more owing to his heritage as an Esper than his desire to become the next Voldemort.
There won't be any bashing, though Harry will have an interesting relationship with his family and Dumbledore.
Also, if anyone would like to become my beta, please drop me a PM.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please leave a review, they really do help motivate me to write more for you guys.