Jericho Potter: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: Voldemort stole Harry's past; The magical world stole his present; the prophecy stole his future. But, that night in Godric's Hollow, someone tried to steal something just as precious. Their failure resulted in a VERY different Harry: oh yes, very different indeed.

Author's Note: So, here we have something that was actually inspired by a character from another fandom.

I won't say more than that, but you might be able to figure out who and what fandom before you even read the first chapter.

Still, like a couple of others, during lockdown, this idea refused to die, so here it is.

And, as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.

Dedication: I would like to dedicate this story to everyone who encouraged me to stay strong during these dark times: my recommended reads are Saviour of Magic by Colt01, Silver King, Trickshot and Damaged Raven by JustBored21, The Mind Arts by Wu Gang, The Power Of Love And Family by llst40, Harry Potter and the Tribe of Mystics and Harold Peverell and the Order of Snow Leopard by Lord of mystics, Dark Lord Peverell by Callisto Blackridge, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man and When the Thunder Breaks by WeLonelyOldSouls

Key Pairing: Eventual Harry/Luna

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mind Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: A Very Different Harry

July 31st.

For Albus Dumbledore, even though he didn't know it just yet, it would be a day that would change everything he thought was possible, everything he had spent years trying to convince himself was right and, above all else, it would be a day that would change him.

Even if he didn't actually want to be changed, by the time the sun set on July 31st, it would change him regardless.

And all thanks to the one and only student he couldn't wait to see walk through the doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a little over a month's time.

Harry James Potter.

Jericho

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I regret to inform you that I will not be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year, nor any other year in the foreseeable future.

I know I should write to your Professor Minerva McGonagall with this response, but since you were SO KIND as to dump me on the doorstep of my only living relatives nine years and nine months ago without so much as a method of staying warm through the autumnal cold, I decided it was only fitting that I make sure my response was dumped on your doorstep just as carelessly.

Be warned, if you make any attempt to contact me, I will not be pleased.

And, to paraphrase a famous man: you won't like me when I am not pleased.

So, please, for all our sakes, leave me alone.

Yours sincerely,

Harry James Potter

Upon receiving the letter in question, it had taken all of Albus' grandfatherly charm to convince Minerva that he had the situation well in hand.

He assured her personally that he would go to Privet Drive, have a nice little chat with Harry, Petunia and their family and he would help the boy to understand that he was more than welcome at Hogwarts and that it was where he would belong. Among friends who would want to help him on his path to the future and fulfil a legacy as old as Arthur and then some.

Besides, he wanted to see just how much Harry knew about that night, including how it was he even knew Albus was the one who'd done the deed when the letter he had left with baby Harry wasn't signed, nor had he given his name in reference to the boy in question.

So, with a request to Fawkes, Albus set off for Number Four.

Jericho

Silence.

That was the first thing Dumbledore noticed when Fawkes deposited him somewhere the Muggles wouldn't notice.

It might have been the start of the Muggle summer holidays, but Privet Drive was eerily quiet: there weren't children in the street, there weren't cars driving up and down the roads. There weren't people in their gardens enjoying the warm, Surrey sunshine or out the back tending to the plants and flowers and other Muggle assortments that Dumbledore had always found fascinating.

There was nobody in the street at all.

Sending his friend back to Hogwarts, if only for now, Albus slowly drew the Elder Wand from his robe before, waving it in a small arc around him, the aged wizard whispered, "Homenum Revelio."

To his relief, more than forty different presences responded to his spell, indicating that the Muggles along the street were in their houses, with four of them gathered in Number Four, much to Albus' relief, as it meant that not only was Harry where he should be, he was still with his family, which meant he was safe behind Albus' well-crafted blood wards.

Now, all he had to do was get some answers.

Crossing the street, a part of him wondering why nobody was even peeking out from behind their curtains at the unusually-dressed man who'd suddenly entered their domicile, Dumbledore walked up the driveway of Number Four, one hand still wrapped around his wand while the other was raised as he went to knock at the door.

Before he could even knock once, however, Dumbledore gasped silently when the door handle turned and the door to Number Four opened, revealing a pale-faced, thin woman who looked at Albus with a mixture of fear and resigned inevitability.

"Petunia?" asked Albus, remembering the woman from the many times that Lily had tried to convince him and others to let her stay at Hogwarts.

Rather than show a cordial response, however, Petunia blinked once before she addressed the headmaster in a very apathetic, almost-robotic tone of voice that, unless Albus was very much mistaken, almost made her sound like she'd been placed under the Imperius Curse.

"You should have listened to him, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"It's all right, Petunia," replied a gruff male voice, which, from Minerva's explanations of her observations on that fated day ten years ago, Albus could only assume belonged to her husband, Vernon Dursley, but, like his wife, Vernon sounded as level-headed, neutral and apathetic as the woman in front of him, even as he continued speaking to her.

"Look at it this way, when the truth comes out and he sees what he was meant to leave alone, he can't say he wasn't warned later-on: let him in and then prepare some refreshments for m…Harry and the Headmaster."

'M?' thought Dumbledore, watching as Petunia did as she was told, letting him in through the front door, even as the Headmaster wondered to himself, 'What was he about to say?'

While Petunia made her way into the kitchen, Albus walked through the front door, taking only a moment to look around the hallway: oddly, there weren't any signs of the passage of time on the walls or anywhere else. In fact, the whole house looked as though it had been cleaned to a degree worthy of a Royal Reception while the walls were devoid of photos of any of the occupants, even the adults.

In the main room, the lounge, Albus saw two thickset gentlemen, one older than the other, standing either side of a chair that, to Albus' slight unease, had its back to him as the occupant of the chair seemed content to face the fireplace. Nearby, a Muggle music player filled the room with the sounds of some classical composer whose name eluded Albus as he stepped through the door to the lounge.

Even stranger still was the presence of the white-furred dog that lay faithfully next to the high-backed chair, though, when the dog sensed Albus' presence, it growled in a warning tone, baring its fangs as it cautioned the old man to keep his distance from the chair and the owner, whom Albus could only assume it saw as its – or her, as Dumbledore noticed when the dog stood up – master.

"It's okay, Lupa," said the smaller of the two thickset gentlemen, whom Albus guessed was Dudley Dursley, moving a hand to stroke the dog's fur, though, when he did so, Albus' eyes widened when he saw the dog bite down hard on the boy's flesh.

What surprised him even more was the fact that the boy didn't even flinch: instead, he smiled with an appreciative air as he added, "Yes, that's my good girl, but you know that you shouldn't spoil your appetite when we have guests. Lie back down and be a good girl and you can eat him later if you're still hungry, okay?"

For the third time, Albus was surprised, if not a little horrified to see the dog obey, though not before she licked her lips as she turned her head to the chair, nuzzling the hand that was visible on the left arm of the chair. In response, the hand petted the dog, tickling her behind the ears in a fond, affectionate manner before, to Albus' shock, the larger man, Vernon, spoke again.

"Now, since we know you're only going to read our minds, or his, and see it anyway, we won't stand on ceremony: Dudley, leave…you too, Vernon."

'What in the name of Merlin is going on here?' wondered Albus, watching as the two gentlemen left, leaving him alone with the figure in the chair whom, after only a moment, let out an audible sigh before they rose from the chair, revealing a sight that Albus was pretty damn sure he wasn't about to forget in a hurry.

Unlike Petunia and the two males, who'd basically been dressed like House Elves with their raggedy, torn clothes and gormless faces, the figure before Albus was dressed like a prince, if not someone who'd had his every whim catered to. Clothes of fine, expensive design clung to a lean frame that looked like the perfect build for a Chaser or Seeker – which Albus found ironic given what the boy's Father had done at Hogwarts – while his raven-black hair was wild-styled and stood up on his head like a crown of shadows.

On one hand, the sole occupant of the chair wore a ring of purest gold with a dragon's head in the crest, the jaws of the dragon wrapped around a small emerald that, when the boy turned, Albus noted was the same colour as his eyes, which looked up at the Headmaster with an expression that could have been described as bored.

As Dumbledore looked at the boy's face, however, his eyes widened when he caught sight of something that he definitely hadn't expected to see when he looked upon the face of Harry James Potter after nearly ten years.

And that was the dark-coloured, jagged scar that ran from one side of Harry's neck to the other, making it look like someone had actually tried to decapitate him, only to fail, thank Merlin.

'Oh, trust me, old man,' said a young, cold-toned voice, the sound of which made Dumbledore blanch when he looked up to Harry's face again.

When he did so, however, he gasped when he heard the voice again…

And yet, Harry Potter's lips never moved a muscle.

'Merlin has absolutely nothing to do with this.'

"Harry?" asked Dumbledore, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing, not to mention what he was hearing.

Not with his ears, but, instead, he was somehow hearing the voice of his quarry in his mind!

And, judging by the sinister smile, like a cross between a shark smelling blood in the water and a dragon circling a bloody feast, Harry knew it too.

'I told you to leave me alone…if you had done, I would have let it all go, even whoever did this to me. But, you're here now, so congratulations, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. You've convinced me to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in September.'

Wow, talk about a twist in the tale: Privet Drive is a ghost town; the Dursleys are apparently at Harry's beck and call, our hero has a faithful protector and, to top it all off, he has a new power…but how?

Who, or what, made him what he has become and what does he plan on doing now he has revealed himself to the one who thinks he can manipulate Harry to fulfil his destiny?

I wonder…how do you manipulate someone who can, apparently, sense what you're thinking and speak with his mind?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Dumbledore has questions and Harry has answers…well, some of them: ah, not nice is it, Albus?

Please Read and Review

AN: Inspiration

So, if you haven't figured it out yet, this story's Harry was heavily inspired by Joseph Wilson, aka Jericho from DC

During lockdown, I saw Jericho in the Deathstroke: Knights and Dragons animated movie and, like I said before, inspiration hit me and refused to let up, so…here we are.

Hope you all enjoy the story and the fun that's to come.