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 world stole his present; the prophecy stole his future. But that night, someone tried to steal something just as precious. Their failure resulted in a VERY different Harry.

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.

Recommended Reads: Saviour of Magic by Colt01, Silver King, Trickshot and Damaged Raven by JustBored21, The Mind Arts by Wu Gang, Harry Potter and the Tribe of Mystics and Harold Peverell and the Order of Snow Leopard by Lord of mystics, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man and When the Thunder Breaks by WeLonelyOldSouls

Key Pairing: Harry/Luna

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mind Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: A Very Different Harry

July 31st.

For Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – among other titles – even though he didn't know it just yet, this would be a day that would change everything when it came to what he thought was possible.

It would also change everything he'd spent years trying to convince himself was something that he was doing for the right reasons and, above all else, it would be a day that would change him.

Yes, it was true: even if he didn't want to be changed, by the time the sun set on the particular July 31st where this story starts, the fact of the matter was that the events that were soon to follow 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 Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederacy of Wizards, Grand Sorcerer and Order of Merlin, First Class holder.

Now that the titles are out of the way, let me be blunt:

It is with deepest regret that I am writing to inform you that I have come to the decision, of my own free will, that I will NOT be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this coming academic year, nor any other year in the foreseeable future.

Given what was written on the aforementioned letter regarding my placement, I know I should write to your Professor Minerva McGonagall with this response, but since you were SO KIND as to just dump me on the doorstep of my only living relatives – meaning Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, the United Kingdom, Europe, the Northern Hemisphere, the Planet Earth, the Milky Way, the Universe itself – 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.

So, now you have it: we're even.

You have no more reasons to interfere in my life, and, 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 – more yours than mine – leave me alone.

Yours sincerely,

Harry James Potter

Upon receiving the letter in question, it had taken all of Albus' grandfatherly charm to convince an irate, if not horrified-looking, not to mention deeply concerned Minerva McGonagall that he had the situation well in hand.

He assured her that he would personally go to Privet Drive, where he would have a nice little chat with Harry, as well as Petunia and their family and, in the end, 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 for the means to get to the address, Albus set off for Number Four.

Jericho

Silence.

That was the first thing Headmaster Dumbledore noticed when Fawkes deposited him somewhere he had hoped that the Muggles wouldn't notice his unannounced and unusually-creative means of arrival.

It might have been the start of the Muggle summer holidays, not to mention the middle of the aforementioned season, but Albus couldn't help but notice how Privet Drive was eerily quiet. There weren't signs of any children playing in the street, there weren't the Muggles' transportation devices -meaning cars – driving up and down the roads. There weren't signs of any people just casually, or socially, lounging around in their houses' 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.

In fact, 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, all the while trying not to panic at this ghostly, dread-inducing atmosphere, the aged wizard whispered to the silence.

"Homenum Revelio."

Moments later, his fears were left groundless when, to his relief, more than forty differently-revealed presences responded to his spell, indicating the Muggles along the street, and how they 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 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 knock, however, Dumbledore gasped 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 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: let him in and then prepare some refreshments for the m…uh…I mean, for Harry and the Headmaster to enjoy while they have their little chat."

'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 a moment to look around the hallway: oddly, there weren't any signs of the passage of time on the walls.

In fact, the whole house looked as though it'd 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 lounge, Albus saw two thickset gentlemen, one older than the other, standing either side of a chair that, to Albus' 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, filling the air with song and an air of uneasy calmness that both unnerved and relaxed Albus at the same time.

Was that even possible?

He didn't know.

And, besides, he had more important things to think about, such as how the atmosphere was made even stranger still, all thanks to the presence of the large, white-furred dog, which seemed content to lay faithfully next to the high-backed chair, though, when the dog sensed Albus' presence, it growled in a warning tone, baring its fangs at him 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-looking gentlemen, whom Albus guessed was Dudley Dursley, while the boy moved 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, 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 slender-looking 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? Why is Mr Dursley referring to himself in the third person like that?' 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 larger-bodied males, who'd basically been dressed like the worst-treated of House Elves with their raggedy, torn clothes and gormless faces, the figure before Albus was dressed more like a prince, if not someone who'd had his every whim catered to ever since he could walk and talk. He wore clothes of fine, expensive design over 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 snarling 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, not to mention painful-looking, serrated-edge-like 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 suddenly, the sudden, unexpected, not to mention creepy 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, while his voice continued addressing the old man, '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 sleeping dragon that had been tickled awake and was now circling a bloody feast, Harry knew it too. 'I told you that it would have been wise to leave me alone…if you had done, I would have let it all go, even the mystery of finding whoever did this to me.'

Although his voice did not speak, Harry still managed to indicate the scar on his neck, before his strangely-ethereal voice continued.

'But, you're here now, so congratulations, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, He-Who-Has-Way-Too-Many-Titles. You've convinced me to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in September.'

Jericho

Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts.

In any other situation, at any other time, in any other place, those six words would have been as much of a cause for ecstatic celebration for Albus Dumbledore as it was for every other man, woman and child in Magical Britain.

For one thing, it meant that he'd been right in doing what he had done and now, the future of the magical world was set in stone.

However, in this instance, Dumbledore didn't know whether to be alarmed, excited, curious or horrified at the prospect of this particular Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts, especially with this latest development concerning the young man in question.

'What's wrong, Albus?' asked the apparently-mentally-projected voice of the Magical World's – well, Magical Britain – Saviour, the sound of which Dumbledore still couldn't believe was even possible, much less at a young age and even less by someone who'd been raised like Harry had been.

And yet, his voice continued regardless, 'Didn't you hear me? I said I'm coming to Hogwarts. That's what you want, isn't it?'

"H-H-Harry…" whispered Albus, a note of genuine pain and bone-chilling fear echoing in his own voice as he asked, "I…I don't understand…"

'What else is new?' drawled Harry, earning a shocked look from Dumbledore while Harry smiled with a cocky, confident air as he lifted a hand and spun his chair around without much effort, before he sat back down in said chair, linking his fingers together in a regal, confident manner as he smiled up at the Headmaster as he indicated to said elder. 'Won't you sit down, Professor? At your age, I would imagine a comfortable chair would be something of a godsend. Oh, if you want to conjure one, go ahead: just as long as I can keep it afterwards. Like you, I do love a comfortable seat when I'm maxing and relaxing…and, besides, Lupa could use a new snuggle pad.'

Even as Albus moved to do as Harry had kindly suggested, he also watched as the white canine – which he suddenly realised, with a jolt of shock, was actually a wolf and not a dog as he'd first thought – next to Harry moved to rest her head in her master's lap, earning a soft chuckle – mentally, of course – from Harry as he looked down and petted her softly. 'I know, I spoil you, my beautiful girl.'

Having conjured a comfortable red-coloured armchair of his own, Albus slowly sat down before he cleared his throat as he looked up at Harry with a questionable air, which echoed in his voice, "So, Harry…can I ask…"

'You can ask, but that doesn't mean that I have to answer,' said Harry, still petting his canine companion – Lupa, if Albus remembered rightly: it was a name he found oddly comforting for the boy before him: it was, after all, the name of a Roman deity who'd helped raise two orphaned boys of her own, Romulus and Remus – as he looked up to Dumbledore before he added, 'Before we get started, however, I have a gift for you, Albus.'

"You know, I prefer Professor Dumbledore when my students talk to me."

'And I prefer Master or Mr Potter when someone who isn't a friend of mine, which, right now, adds up to everyone in Creation, bar my beautiful furry friend here, speaks to me, ALBUS,' Said Harry, giving the old man a sly, if not cheeky wink that, to Dumbledore's shock, reminded him of another boy with a mischievous streak as long as his arm.

'Oh,' said Harry suddenly, earning a surprised look from Dumbledore as Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, 'So I remind you of my godfather, Sirius Black, do I? Well, if I ever meet the guy, I'm sure he'll take it as a compliment…well, once he gets out of Azkaban, anyway.'

"Harry, how did you…" Dumbledore began, but before he could finish, the door opened, revealing Petunia, who was carrying two large glasses of lemonade, as well as a tray of cakes and, curiously – at least, to Dumbledore, it was – a small pile of bacon rashers.

As he looked at the bacon, however, Albus saw Harry reach forwards before he dropped the meat in front of his wolf, who began chomping on it happily. Harry, meanwhile, dismissed Petunia with a wave of his hand before, indicating the tray between them, Harry addressed Albus once more.

'Help yourself, Albus: I'm sorry it's lemonade and not lemon drops, but I never really had a love for them: they tend to get stuck in my teeth.'

'How does he know about my preference for offering lemon drops?' asked Dumbledore, but when he did so, he heard another mentally-projected chuckle before he saw Harry lift his right hand to his temple, tapping it slowly as he looked right into Dumbledore's eyes.

'I told you I was giving you a gift, Albus, so let's match the power of Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived against the famous Albus Dumbledore.'

Suddenly, the truth of Harry's knowledge hit Dumbledore like he'd just been tackled by a rampaging dragon.

"You…you can read my mind?"

'I think what you mean to say is that I can read anyone's mind, old man,' replied Harry, lowering his hand as he indicated the door that his relative had walked through before he added, 'And that's not all I can do, as I'm sure you've come to figure out by now.'

Looking to the door, Dumbledore's eyes widened again as he remembered the eerily-calm, apathetic, hypnotised manner with which Petunia and Vernon had spoken, as well as how calm and controlled their son had seemed despite the fact he'd had a wolf biting him and promised that she could eat him later if she wanted to.

"You…you can control people? With your mind?"

'My mind, my magic, same difference, really, isn't it?' asked Harry, lowering his hand from the side of his head before he helped himself to one of the glasses between them, as he continued as though they were having a normal conversation, 'I won't deny it: it was strange, at first…scary, even. But over time, and with a little patience, I learned to control it and make it my own…so, again, like I said, it's sort of both mind and magic, wouldn't you agree, Albus?'

"You…you're using Legilimency to control the Muggles?"

'Well, I prefer to call it Telepathy, like the Muggles do, actually,' said Harry, lowering his glass, which Albus was surprised to see was now empty, even though there had to have been the equivalent of a full pint in that glass, before he continued, 'And, like I said, it was strange, at first: I mean, I could hear things that little old me couldn't have begun to understand. Sounds…images…sensations and emotions that weren't my own: and all the while, I was screaming inside my own head because…well, let me show you since I know you're curious anyway.'

With that, Harry blinked once before he opened his mouth, but, when he did so, Albus' eyes widened when, as Harry's lips moved, no sound came out, not even a whisper of a voice.

"Harry…" gasped Dumbledore, his eyes wide with pain, fear and a whole new sensation of guilt and disbelief as he asked, "You…you're…"

'Mute,' said Harry, closing his mouth as he tapped the scar on his throat before he added, 'And, from what I gather, it's thanks to this, Albus: of course, it wasn't until I started to develop this power of mine that I learned about it. I mean, you knew about how much my favourite puppets hated magic, as well as hating my Mother, my Father and everything magical, right?'

"I…I thought…"

'You thought some small, almost-totally-non-existent scrap of familial love would blossom into something more, just because Mum was dead and there were blood wards around the home keeping me here and keeping trouble out,' said Harry, earning another alarmed look from Dumbledore before the headmaster's expression softened slightly as he looked into Harry's eyes.

"Can you please not read my mind, Harry?"

'Why not? You were planning on doing it to me to see why I wasn't coming to Hogwarts at first.'

Albus couldn't deny it – vocally or mentally – Harry was right.

He had intended to use Legilimency to figure out a way to bring Harry to his senses and help him understand that he belonged at Hogwarts.

'No need for that now, is there?'

"Harry…" groaned Dumbledore, a part of him wondering if this was what it felt like when he showed knowledge over others because he'd been able to read their minds and use what he had found to his advantage.

'Probably.'

Setting down his own glass, having taken a drink to try and gather his senses, Dumbledore looked up at Harry before, heaving a sigh of his own, the aged headmaster asked, "So, what is this gift you wish to give me, Harry?"

'Can't you figure it out?' asked Harry, tapping his head again in a rhythmic manner.

It took Dumbledore only a moment to put the pieces together, "You…you're going to let me read your mind."

'No, old man,' said Harry, smiling in an amused manner as he waggled a finger at Dumbledore, almost as though he was the Professor and the old man was nothing more than a naughty child being scolded for their insolence.

'I'm going to let you try!'

Albus remembered an age-old saying about throwing down the gauntlet: well, Harry was definitely doing that.

Still, if it meant he might get some insight into what could have possibly happened to the boy in front of him to make him so cold, cavalier and callous about controlling others and discovering secrets better-kept-hidden, with or without the permission of the secret keeper, then he wasn't about to turn away from this.

Settling into his chair, Albus looked right into Harry's eyes as he told him, "Very well, but I warn you: this will be unpleasant."

'For whom?'

Doing his best to ignore the jibe, Albus unleashed every ounce of his Legilimency right into the eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived.

As soon as he did so, however, Dumbledore had only a moment to gasp before he felt his mind being pulled, rather-forcibly, away from the rest of his body, leaving him feeling weightless and without sensation of anything, any direction, any time or place or anyone or anything.

All he knew was the voice that spoke to him, its mocking cockiness more evident than anything his Father could have come up with.

'Thank you for letting me in.'

YOWZAH!

Talk about a twist in the tale: Privet Drive is a ghost town; the Dursleys are 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: It's time for a little field trip, students and teachers…but I'd advise stocking up on supplies, because you may not like what you are about to learn…

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

Back 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.

AN2: Portrayal

Albus Dumbledore: Jude Law