July 31st, 1994
The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley – United Kingdom
Harry James Potter
-
Another day, another birthday no less, and it started much like the last two years had done. He'd woken up in an old creaky bed, the sounds of the trains running underneath him rousing him from his sleep. He'd told himself that it was better than sleeping under the stairs, or having a locked bedroom. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that it was much better than anything at Privet Drive.
As soon as he'd ran away from Privet Drive after his second year at Hogwarts, he was aimless. Yes, he was going back to Hogwarts, that much he knew for certain. Other than that? There were millions of paths he could have taken at any time. He couldn't go to Ron and the Weasleys at the Burrow; they'd won that trip to Egypt for the summer and so he was forced to stay at the pub on Diagon Alley.
Tom, the bartender and landlord of the old wizarding inn had been kind enough to sort him out a room at a discount rate. Granted, it didn't matter if it was discounted or not. Harry had more than enough money to pay the full fare, regardless of how long he spent there. Oh, the benefits of having a nice, fat trust fund to use for himself. The more time he spent there, the longer he got used to the dingy environment. It was a pub, and Harry was about to turn sixteen.
Tom was kind enough to occasionally let him have a 'proper drink' with his meal. Regardless, the events of his second and third year remained swirling in Harry's head. The Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk. Sirius and Remus had proven their innocence whilst unveiling Peter Pettigrew's own disloyalty. All of it, it was happening so, so fast.
Too fast, even. Everything is just too much, too soon.
And so, Harry once more woke up on his birthday. Reaching for his glasses so he could see a little more clearly, he rubbed away the sleep from his eyes before he put his glasses on. He hated it, and for the past two years, he'd pretended like the day didn't happen. It wasn't right, the day always lingered and was too lonely for his liking.
He'd gotten the occasional letter from Ron, Hermione and Sirius even. Sirius was still struggling to get his life back on track, Hermione was on holiday and even Ron was busy. Every day he spent it either in the real world or the magical one, in Diagon Alley or Central London. He'd get dressed and just wander, find himself all over the joint before he'd return back to the pub for a warm meal and some sleep.
And even then, the sleep wasn't great. He'd wake up constantly, stirred from the trains below or the restless nights he'd suffer through. Dreams and nightmares, they cursed him with the ability to only sleep in short doses. Recently, in light of his self-advancement and betterment, he still couldn't get past the sights and visions.
-
That cursed graveyard, the stone-cold statue of the reaper looking over the lower cemetery grounds. A snake in the grass slithering silently around the estate.
The house on the hill, windows dark, blackened out before one began to light up, more and more before it remained permanently.
Three men in a room, a traitor, a loyalist and the sense of something so inherently wrong it was painful to see it, to even sense it. Then another joined them.
He wasn't a wizard; he wasn't even a squib. Just some poor old muggle groundskeeper who had wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time.
A flash of green, the strings of a puppet unfortunately cut. A muggle murdered, and the soul (if one could call it that) of pure evil remained amongst the living.
-
The sight remained stuck in his head, the forefront of his mind eternally scarred with that vision of cold-blooded murder. Even the warm English breakfast and the piping hot cup of tea couldn't push that sight away. He focused instead on the movements and spells he was learning, the more advanced the better. If his dreams were going to come true, which they had a tendency to do, he'd rather be prepared than not.
"You alright, Harry? You look a little troubled there." Tom had asked, as Harry sat at the closest seat to the till. "Ignore that, you've had that look for a while now."
Harry nodded. "Just knackered, as per usual. Sleepless nights again, nothing different."
That was what he told Tom anyway. He didn't need to pester the kindly bartender with the stuff of nightmares; besides, the sooner he was back at Hogwarts, the better it would be for everyone. He'd already managed to make some headway into the subjects, and so far, was ready for a quiet if a little boring year. God, how much I would give right now for boring, but at least with some friends.
Internally, he was screaming. A boring year? That was the best thing he could hope for! He didn't fancy risking his life for the fourth year in a row, no need for danger in every moment of his semi-childhood. All he needed to do was study, not fail and maybe have a little more of a social life. Yeah, that was it. That was the plan! Just for a year, he could be a kid, a teenager for once in his life. Not every moment needed to be a life-or-death decision, not everything he dead would have to be everything but a failure or a mistake! The idea, the plan, the hope was there, he just had to take the chance to seize it.
I have to Carpe this Diem, otherwise, nothing will ever be 'normal' for me. God knows I have more than enough that isn't normal already.
And with that revelation, the concept of just being a kid, it set into motion a series of realisations that Harry had gone through as he finished his breakfast and drank his tea. How long had he held himself back, or not tried as hard as he really should have done? How many people knew the person that was really The Boy Who Lived? It took the past few summers to realise it, but for the first time in his life, he was strong.
Every spell he practiced, he soon managed to do. Even the hard stuff, the stuff that people much better could not do, it took him a good few tries but he always got there in the end. The theories in his textbooks were easier to grasp than he thought. He was the boy who found the Philosopher's Stone, the one who killed the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, the one who cast a proper Patronus. He hated it, but he was everything that everyone said he was and more.
It was all coming together. He had to come out of his shell, he couldn't respect himself if he couldn't be who he really was. He could still be Harry Potter, the student and at the same time, be The Boy Who Lived, how hard was that to comprehend? He was soon to be a Lord after all, even if the title itself seemed so silly and out of place for someone like him, it sounded more comedic than serious.
Harry soon downed the remainder of his tea before he dug the letter in his back pocket out. Gringotts had revealed to him that he was indeed a little lordling, of the Potters (and somehow the Blacks). Yet, at the same time, it meant nothing to him. He had gotten a hold of some books, and even whilst he was trying to gauge the meaning of such a title, all it had done was manage to confuse Harry even more than before.
"You look bothered by something, Harry. Maybe it would be good to get it off your chest now, whilst we're still opening up?" Tom offered. "Swear on me magic, I won't say nought."
"I mean, it's just some small stuff, Tom. Nothing to worry about."
Tom's eyebrows raised significantly. "Says the young man with the biggest scowl on his face that I've seen this side of Magical Britain. Broken heart? England out of the Quidditch Cup?"
Harry sighed. "I'm more of an, how do we say? Azzuri. The Italians have a good chance this year. Also, like I said, just small stuff."
"Doesn't look small with that scowl, Harry."
"You're not gonna let this one go, are you, Tom?"
"Not a chance, young man."
Harry handed the old bartender two galleons for his troubles before he shrugged him off. He couldn't just go around telling any old soul about his issues, it just wasn't right. Besides that, he'd deal with it himself. Tom smiled before nodding, he understood. Everything could be so overcomplicated that even voicing hesitations and half-thought schemes would be more trouble than it was worth. He'd figure it all out when he got to Hogwarts, he'd get there and it would all be a fresh start. Harry just needed some privacy, some more time to think about what he wanted from his education as well as from other people.
People had expectations of him after all, he needed to be the best he could be. He couldn't be that nervous, quiet and non-confrontational person he used to be. He needed to stand up for himself, to show that he was more than just the sum of his parts. He would not be the disappointment some thought he was, and if people thought he'd become an arrogant brat, then sod them for it. He was thinking of Snape when he thought on that one, but it barely mattered. Snape would hate him either way, he just needed to fight back in a way that would show Snape how good he really was.
At the end of his third year, he'd gone straight for McGonagall's office. He needed to be rid of his old electives, to find something worthwhile, something that could really help him in the future. He'd already decided to be rid of Divination and History of Magic. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes had taken their place, something he could make a career out of even if he excelled in them.
He'd signed off two letters at the bar before he went back to his room. One was more to do with his finances with the goblins, but the other was to Hermione. She'd written that she was coming back from her holidays to go and see the Quidditch World Cup final with the Weasleys, and that Harry was also invited to join as they had a spare ticket. He'd be joining them for the final, but before that, he'd be busy focusing on himself.
He looked at the letter before he'd tied it to Hedwig's leg. The snow-white owl hooted at him, nudging him gently before Harry allowed the bird to fly out to freedom. As the bird flew to Hermione, he could only resign himself to what he could do. Everything was up to him now, no more mooching off of Hermione or others to get by. He needed to be his own man, he needed to be Harry Potter.
-
Dear Hermione,
I wish I could say that I have had an exciting summer like you, but that would just be me being a poor liar. I hope you've had a nice time in France, since in the meantime I have been stuck at the Leaky Cauldron. Has it been boring? Yes, but at the same time, it's done me a massive favour as well. I've been coming to terms with a few things, and I think I just needed to tell somebody about it.
I figured you would be the one to be most pleased about it. If it wasn't getting sent to you, I'm pretty sure Professor McGonagall would be brimming with prideful tears if this letter was to her. I've actually been studying as you said, and I found that I'm actually a lot better than I previously thought. I didn't get a chance to say after the whole Sirius Black thing last year, but I went to McGonagall and convinced her to change my electives. I'm dropping Divination and History of Magic for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. The former two are useless, and the latter might need some studying to get through, but nobody can say that they aren't helpful.
Other than that, I've been just, I don't know, trying to work on myself I suppose. Studying hard, realising how much I have held myself back the last three years, and yet, how much I've grown at the same time. Sometimes I've been good, and other times I've been a bit of a selfish git I suppose. I didn't want to tell Ron this since, well, to be honest, I don't think he'd really understand what I'm trying to say.
I trust you enough to realise that I could be a better person and that this year, I'm going to start being that better person. As one of my closest friends, I trust that you'll always be honest with me and keep me on the right track. It sounds utterly dour and serious, and grim, but you're the only person I can trust with these words since, well, I can't speak to anyone else about it right now.
I'm rambling, but I trust that you know what I'm trying to say even in this jumbled mess of words. I've missed you this summer, and the sooner I see everyone else, the better.
Yours Sincerely, Harry.
-
As soon as he'd come to terms with the letter, he'd sighed. He probably could have worded it a little bit better, but the meaning and intentions were clear to see. She'd probably be proud of him, to know that he was taking himself and his education seriously for once. Yeah, that was it, she'd be happy that he was looking out for himself and his future in the world instead of just messing about.
Sometimes it was boring, constantly studying, but Harry could not deny it's importance. His external self-studying had helped him go leaps and bounds above some of the other kids in his year. Soon, he couldn't stop stirring around in the room and soon made his way out to Diagon Alley. As per usual, the cobblestoned alley that was effectively the centre of Wizarding Britain was heaving with witches and wizards, mages and sorceresses. People went about their business, students preparing before the start of the next educational year as they got hold of their Potions ingredients or their new school robes. The times were indeed changing for everyone.
Yet, Harry still felt stuck in place. As if he were stuck in limbo, he watched as he wandered the alley as others made their way to their next destination. Another shop perhaps, or going back home. Harry wished he could have that choice, to go home, if he even had one. Nope, stop with the self-pitying. We can't change the past, but we can do everything we can to change the future. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he went about his own business. New robes from Madame Malkin's, and a new wrist-holster for his wand from Ollivander's. He felt fresh, a little better than before.
Well, better than before was still better than anything else. Besides, there was still the rest of the summer to get through before anything else. He could enjoy his freedom for once! He had the money, he had everything he could need to do so. He just needed to find the right place to go first. He went back to his room at The Leaky Cauldron, the poster on his wall of the United Kingdom, both magical and non-magical.
Where to start, where to start? Harry ruminated as he took a pin before planting it on the poster. He'd found Dartmoor, before writing down on it. "Four-hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup, nineteen-ninety-four."
A new start. No, not just a new start. A perfect start. Harry smiled. That was it, it was going to be a new school year and an even better year for him.
-
So, a new story was brought to me from the Gods themselves. Been on a mad Harry Potter marathon and eventually got stuck on my favourite, Goblet of Fire. The story is gonna be a mix-match of everything in that movie and book. Also, students are aged up so they join at 13 and leave at 19. Effectively, students start at:
First Year – 13
Second Year – 14
Third Year – 15
Fourth – 16
Fifth – 17
Sixth – 18
Seventh – 19
This is more so for mature storytelling, as that is what I intend to write for in all stories. Harry here will be independent, powerful, confident and aware of his actions. As well as this, certain events have been resolved prior, making this also somewhat of an Alternate Universe. No spoilers, but we will explore them as they come. Hopefully, you guys will enjoy it!
-ApolloSinner