Lucky Player

Chapter 1

Not Alive

Harry James Potter,

Hi, Harry mate,

It's me, your godfather, Sirius. Well, you know me, I'm not really-serious, but I am Sirius, but that joke was probably getting old when I was at school. Your father used it too many times as it was, and even your mum tried it a good couple of time. Seriously, my mum was seriously messed up if she didn't see that joke being over played, calling me Sirius. Though, my mum had a serious lack of humour, so she likely never even noticed the Sirius, serious connection, and, sorry, I'll stop now. You're probably, like, Sirius, seriously, just get to the point, what in the hells is going on?

So, anyway, back on track. If you're reading this letter, then, oops, my bad, I've kicked the bucket, or it landed on my head full of cement. I've died. I'm dead. No more handsome me, so please comfort the honeys in my stead, and treat them to some loving, or something like that.

It was likely my fault! You know me…? I was probably killed doing something stupid and wasn't paying attention. It was probably that loon cousin of mine. (I wonder why she never used a more dangerous curse?). Well never mind, as I was saying, she probably killed me while I was gloating and teasing the bitch. I was probably hit by a crappy spell a knocked through some sort arch of death where no one could possibly save me, and now I am no longer alive, as you know, and you're likely frowning with a 'WTF' look on your face right now.

You see, Harry, I'm not hiding out in Amsterdam after faking my own death or anything. I assure you, I am quite dead, and nowhere near Holland at all. If you were going to look for me there, you would never find me because dead people do not live on in Holland. This is not in any way, some very un-subtle way of telling you, I'm really-alive living the good life in Amsterdam smoking weed, drinking beer, and getting laid by hot babes on holiday, and I certainly haven't found some good times in any red-light districts.

I will assure you buddy that no one should even attempt to double check whether I'm actually-alive living it up anywhere, especially in Holland. And if they even think about it for a moment, I would really appreciate it if you would do me a solid, and interfere in their investigating by flashing around a ton of cash in their greedy faces. That would be appreciated greatly.

Well, what was I going to say… hey, don't write that, or that, bastard dictation quill; the box said you were smart enough to, err, never mind, I should probably start over, but; that seems like too much work, so…

Harry that, and the talking to my quill bit isn't what this letter is supposed to be about, because I know for a fact that you know I'm dead, and this quill was not a waste of money, and I certainly shouldn't have spent a few sickles more on that better one. Any-who, I'll tell you how I didn't fake my death when I see you. Christmas is a good time to visit the underworld if you so happened to die anytime soon. Of course, you probably have too many… 'healers', wow, it did the air-quotes, umm… yeah, as long as the 'healers' aren't keeping you too alive, if you get what I mean, (wink-wink).

Anyway, this letter is to give you some advice. First piece of advice. Dumbledore's a moron, and I think he's the only one who doesn't realise it. I think he lives in la-la land. The old man probably told you about that stupid prophesy by now? I told him to tell you about it ages ago, but he kept saying things like. "Harry's just a boy," and: "He's just a child that needs to be protected," or my favourite (add eyeroll): "He needs a childhood." Well, as I said before, Dumbledore's a moron because really-'really' … enough said.

What does Dumbledore know? He's just a silly old man with a small knob. I should know, I saw it once, biggest mistake of my life. Though, I learnt a valuable lesson. Always knock before entering someone's bathroom. Harry-it is probably my worst memory-the horror-and then the dementors-I shiver just thinking about that. But I won't go into detail because I love you and don't want to scar you, plus your mother would kill me – you know… well, I probably shouldn't go there.

However, on a completely unrelated topic, included with this letter is a small vial holding a very lovely memory I would like you to give to Severus as a small token from me as an apology for being a complete dick over the years. And… umm… mate you SERIOUSLY, DO NOT want to see what's in it!

Anyway, back to the prophecy. I say it's a load of crap. Who can take a prophecy seriously when it is made by that old fraud, Trelawney? Then what kind of mad man tries to murder babies over some silly fortune-telling – well, apart from Voldemort? Anyway, who gives a crap about some stupid fortune telling? Prophesies only seem to come true when you make them come true. You saw how many prophesies there are in the department of mysteries? How many of them do you think came true? I would say none, because they were never heard by the right people.

Don't let that stupid old man ruin your life. You don't have to make that stupid prophecy come true… but you could just off Voldemort anyway because he's an arsehole. I only wish I could tell you how? Maybe you just need to build some trusted allies and friends, get stronger, and then kick the crap out of all the enemies you could make, and make some more, just because.

But anyway, there are lots of cool stuff you should be doing. You're young, and have so much life to live, so instead of following the old bastard around like all the other sheep in the Order, I say you go out, have fun, learn some new interesting things, meet new people, and don't think about everything so hard, and go with the flow or you'll go grey before you're twenty. Prank some Slytherins, and make Snape's life at Hogwarts hell, and don't forget to slip him that memory.

Go out, and meet some girls, get laid, see how many Hogwarts girls you can get into bed. You're famous Harry. Use that to your advantage! What cute-witch wouldn't want bragging rights to having had a bit of you?

Use your fame to get in the sack with the good-looking girls at school. Only the good-looking ones though. I don't want to find out you've been with any mongers in the land of the dead that's not Amsterdam. It'll gross me out, and I still have the blasted memory of Dumbledore for that (I wonder whether the dead can have things like that wiped from their memory-look into it for me, would you?) Do that and you will make me the proudest godfather in history? And you'll be the first student in history to sleep with most of the female population of Hogwarts; that will certainly be award worthy, right?

Good thoughts-happy thoughts!

Dementor murdering thoughts?

And then, maybe sometime soon you could grab a portkey to Amsterdam where I am not alive, and I can prove to you that I really am dead, and you can tell my spirit of all the mayhem and mischief you've caused while at school. But then, why start at school, you can screw over the old man during the holidays too, maybe get some practice in on some muggle girls, believe it or not, according to my snooping you're apparently hot, and I really wish I walked away before I did hear that.

But I'm sure you'll do me, and your father proud. Your mother may be a little pissed, but give her some grand-kids in ten or twenty years, and she'll probably let it slide.

Until we meet again, in the afterlife, and not in Amsterdam, Holland!

Yours Seriously,

-Sirius, "Padfoot" Black.

P.S.- I almost forgot; you'll also find enclosed with this letter your new passport (it's not a fake?) Your new name on it, is Harry Black; no one will suspect a thing when you decide to take a vacation, and it couldn't think of anything better at the time. You know how your mind just goes blank, or you don't think of that perfect comeback until it's too late? I swear that is the most annoying thing in the world.

Oh, by the way, read the back of this letter, where there aren't any spells and wand movements to remove tracing spells, and to allow you to perform magic outside of school illegally without getting expelled. That always made me wonder how they could pick up this trace thing…? Wouldn't leaving it on be ideal for capturing criminals? But then I suppose that would be too much to ask, and somewhere along the way people would use that to set up their enemies, but it's just a stupid spell they set up around muggle-raised students because they're arseholes.

Bye-bye pup, until the Spirit World (that isn't in Amsterdam, Holland),

-Sirius.

P.P.S.- forgot to say, do whatever you want at school, like becoming an illegal animagus or something silly like that. While Dumbles believes in the prophecy (like an idiot), you have free reign at Hogwarts. When you get detention, don't show up unless it's to bug Snivilus. Dumbles won't ever expel you or even suspend you. So, begin your reign of terror. Nearly all the Marauders are dead now, so you have a legacy to live up to as the Marauders Ghost! Cool name huh? Thought of it myself, just now, which is annoying as that Harry Black name sucked. But anyway, give them hell from me, and your dearly departed dad, and try to off the rat at some point to bring back the Marauders honour as pranksters', and not squishy turd sandwiches.

I just had another thought –'caution: I am grinning with evil intent'-. 'Difficult' for me, I know, but maybe you should pop down to Diagon Alley and get a few advanced, powerful and interesting spell books. (I know books, you're wondering who really wrote this letter? Well, I'm quite sure I'm me). Books can be useful and have great spells for pranking. Anyway, see if you can find a book on occlumency too. I'm sure you could learn it better from a book than you ever could from that greasy useless tosser, Snape, even if you must sneak down Knockturn to get what you need.

Remember Knockturn Alley is odd. They expect you to act creepy and buy creepy things while dressed like you're up to no good with huge hood, dark robes and be rude to every loser that stalks that creepy cesspool. It's like they try to advertise their evil ways. Wouldn't it be less suspect to have a place in Diagon that is legitimate with the secret creepy-shit done in the back room full of black-market shit? That's a thought. I guess the magical world doesn't like doing things right.

Also, try to get rid of Snape at some point, if you can, after tormenting him of course, as he ruins futures from what I heard McGonagall say. She said he's an incompetent pillock who can't even teach the smarter kids because he intimidates and threatens them, and Dumbledore doesn't give a shit; he has had his education, screw yours! Well, when McGonagall cusses about someone's 'usefulness', the school should be worried.

Well player, this is bye for real this time. Maybe I'll get lucky and the 'Underworld' hotel will have my dear friend Harry Black checking in around Christmas time. That, by the way is not located in Holland and has nothing to do with being near some pretty-neat nightclubs in Amsterdam.

Your godfather,

-Sirius Black.

P.P.P.S.- wow, that's a lot of P's… but any who, one last food for thought. Stop with the brooding and enjoy yourself. Fuck what Dumbledore wants and get out of the house for a while during this summer while messing with the old fart. You know a few hot girls already, so go and see if they'll have some fun with you. Though, I doubt Hermione would; she might as well have prood written on her forehead. Ginny most likely would enjoy your 'attention', since she is madly in love with you. But try not to break her heart or anything. She does have six older brother that would try to destroy you. Though, I suppose you wouldn't have to worry about Ron as he wouldn't have noticed.

No offence mate, but Ron is a bit on the dimmer side of the candle.

-Sirius.

Harry was sitting on his bed within number four Privet Drive in his room, for obvious reasons-where else could he read his letter from the not alive? It was the summer holidays, so Harry had to put up with his jerk relatives as it was without spending more time with them in the family room, as if they were family.

Though, rereading his letter, Harry felt like his luck-stat had increased by a few numbers and felt a strange relief flood through his veins.

Harry was reading and re-reading the weirdest letter he had ever received, and that included the letter telling him he had magical powers. Harry remembered back then, being so happy, but that turned out to be a flop in too many murderous regards. He seriously had a seriously serious issue with pieces of crap wanting to seriously kill him, and, yep; that got old, for a while.

However, this letter had the same effect of making Harry feel happy. It made him smile from ear to ear, as he made a silent promise to himself to do all that the not alive and certainly not living in Holland, Sirius had suggested. Yes, Sirius was certainly not alive in Amsterdam, and if he was, it looked like Harry was off to gets some books on occlumency so nobody would ever think for a moment that he knew anything of any sneaky little bastard Gryffindor if they discounted the Weasley twins, and himself.

Harry smiled a little more. Trust that turd sandwich to choose a place like that of everywhere he could not be dead! Harry chuckled at his own insane thoughts wondering whether madness could rub off from the dead to the living. But then Harry remembered it might be able to rub off from the other living people, and he was around Dumbledore and Mad Eye Moody much too much for his likings.

'It only makes sense to make Snape's life hell at school. And while I am at it. I think I will make life as difficult as I can for Dumbles too. Then his stupid Order of the Puddin' Cups has to go down with some sprinkles.'

Harry laughed aloud at the thought of making them all suffer at the hands of his pranks.

'The Marauders Ghost, I like it,' he smirked smugly as he had always secretly thought the Marauders names were stupid.

Harry was not so sure about the whole sleeping around thing though.

'I'm not so sure about the whole sleeping around thing though. Well, I am the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe I can use that to become the Guy-Who-Screwed-Most-Of-The-Hot-Witches-On-Earth. Well, the name needs work; maybe I can abbreviate it? T-G-W-S-M-O-T-W-O-E, TGWSMOTWOE. Yeah, try actually-saying that. It still needs some fine-tuning, though as a fringe benefit to all the shit I have to put up with, getting my dick in cute girl pussy sounds fair enough to me.'

"Hmmmmm" Harry hmmmmm'd to himself, then: "ah" he ah'd before continuing to talk to himself. "I should catch the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley?" he sighed. 'Boy am I lonely. I have only been back two days and I am already talking to myself? Damn that's pitiful. If my fans could see me now. Maybe I would get a hug, or a blowjob from Ginny, or that weirdly cute Luna Lovegood, girl;' he liked her, she was sweet. 'Maybe Loony Suckgood?' He smiled a little at that thought, and held back from snickering at his silly joke.

Harry turned his letter from his dead godfather (who was not alive in Amsterdam) around and read the instructions, and then he did not pull out his wand-wand, not his 'magical-wand'. He then didn't mutter the spell to remove the tracking charms from around his person, or wand, or anywhere near him. Harry was just as confused about that as his dead godfather was while not making the wand movements. Then he did not check himself for tracking charms to not find three, and did not remove them with the simple spells Sirius had also jotted down.

'Wow, they must really hate not knowing where I am.' Harry smirked slightly to himself. 'I hope they do not find me for a while. It will teach them a lesson. Gits.'

Harry got up from his bed with a big grin on his face, and placed his letter from the not alive and not hiding out in Amsterdam, Sirius Black into his school trunk, and hid it under all his junk.

'I think I'll get some muggle money from my Gringotts account first, and buy some nice new muggle clothes. If I'm going to be a player then I need to look the part.'

Harry shrunk his trunk after removing his invisibility cloak, and wallet while whistling the – 'I can use magic while at home tune, with the ministry are too dumb to find out melody'.

Harry put his trunk in his pocket, and threw on his: 'Cloaking Cloak', (he smiled as he called it that in his mind, as it was more amusing that way), and disappearing (no he did not disparate, he just became invisible-hence it was his Cloaking Cloak,) and then opened the bedroom door, pausing as he looked back at his desk, seeing the creepy vile of memory, Sirius sent him, he grabbed it and put it in his pocket, figuring he would send it from the Post Office in Diagon Alley, as he wanted rid of it right away, before stepping through his open door, and closing it behind him.

"Mum… Mum!" the fat blonde prick Dudley Dursley was yelling from the top of the stairs a little way in front of his cool, smart and brilliant, perfect, handsome can't do anything wrong cousin, Harry Potter.

Said awesome cousin who just so happened to be cloaked like an enemy spaceship from TV, and smirking evilly. And an evilly smirking invisible relative who hates you and imagined himself as an enemy spaceship was something you should fear when you were standing at the top of a flight of stairs.

Heck, you should just fear them plain and simple.

'Yes, fear me plebbo! Whaahahahahaha! Hmm, is plebbo even a word? If not, then it is now, for I deem it so.'

'Hmm… thinking about invisibility, why haven't I used this bloody cloak to spy on girls in the bathrooms at school? I am a teenage boy after all. And I figure that's the sort of awesome thing a teenage boy with a Cloaking Cloak should do, right? Yep, most certainly. I'll just have to remember that for the new term. But there are muggle bathrooms too; maybe I'll try it out sometime? Whaahahahahaha! And maybe stop the evil laughing inside my head; I'm not the insane bad guy here, am I? damn, that means I can't spy on the girls – unless I'm an antihero, right?'

"What is it Duddiekins?" Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen.

'How I hate that screechy voiced wench. I wish she were up here too. I wonder whether my mum would have approved of this? Probably not. But hey, she's not here, so who cares? I'll never know for sure. And what a stupid and babyish nickname, if only his friends could see him now.'

"When's dinn... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Dudley screamed as he 'tripped' down the stairs, bouncing off every step as he went, with the happily smiling Harry walking down after him, unseen within his Cloaking Cloak.

'I wonder how that happened. Because I certainly had nothing to do with it.'

It appeared Dudley was out cold. Harry got a good look and smiled with a little grimace, as that looked like it would hurt once the baby whale was awake. Dudley's face was bloodied and one of his legs was bent in a weird, not normal way. Harry not wanting to stick around shrugged and hopped over him and headed to the front door.

'Ah well, accidents happen.'

Harry looked around to see his aunt in a frantic state of panic hovering over Dudley's unconscious form.

'Duddiekins should be more careful while on the stairs.'

Harry opened the front door unnoticed by his crying aunt who was fumbling with the phone.

'Guess she is calling the paramedics. I would not have wanted to bother them. They have more important things to deal with rather than wastes of carbon and resources like him. But I guess they'll discover that for themselves when Dudley wakes up.'

Harry silently snickered as he slipped through the door, and walked quietly away from Privet Drive, and entered Magnolia Crescent, silently humming the: 'Dumbledore's a moron tune' that for some reason was now stuck in his head. It went something like this. 'Dumbledore's a moron tralalalala… he plays with his bogies, tralalalala… he fiddles with Snape's wily, tralalalala.' Harry shuddered here as that was the worst verse, but continued his tune anyway. 'His sheep follow him blindly without a clue, tralalalala… and he'll get them all killed, tralalalala… but I'm passed caring, tralalalala… Dumbledore's a moron, tralalalala.'

I'm really-glad I'm not a song writer, or I would be lynched for that.

Harry quickly removed his Cloaking Cloak, and stuffed it in the pocket of his baggy trousers after a quick look around to see if the cost was clear. Harry then pulled out his wand, and gave it a flick up.

'BANG!'

to be continued…

Authors Note: this is a remade version of my story Player, which I had redone originally as enLivened Player. However, I wasn't liking it, as I had left out so much of the crack-n'-humour, and fans liked the original take much better. Therefore, I'm taking the original, fixing the chapters, (hopefully making it flow better), and just making some minor changes to the original before reposting. I'll hope to get chapter 2 up soon, and if not today, then tomorrow.

Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy,

-Outlaw