Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related names, characters and settings are
the property of Warner Bros. Joanne Kathleen Rowling and her respective
publishers. The author of this fanfic is in no way affiliated with any of
these people or companies, and claims no ownership of any non-original
character in the story. No profit will be made from this fan fiction.
This fanfic was written by Sodoff Baldrick (Sod_off_Baldrick@hotmail.com)
Harry Potter and the Autocrat of the Undead.
Chapter 1-
Mr. Vernon Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, stared angrily at the letter in front of him:
Dear Mr. Dursley,
I am sorry to have to tell you that we cannot look after your nephew between the dates of August the First to September the First inclusive, as we are fully booked at that time. Normally, he would have been easily accommodated, but the summer holidays are perhaps our busiest time of year, and this year there has been a sudden increase in demand for childcare services such as ours. Work is being planned at present to expand our site, and we should be able to take your nephew next year.
We apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused you
Yours sincerely, Graham Deely
After reading the letter through a second time, Vernon Dursley savagely ripped the letter into shreds and threw them manically across the breakfast table into the white plastic bin in the far corner of the dining room. His nephew, Harry, looked up from his bowl of soggy cornflakes and registered the rage in the face of his uncle. He knew right away what was making him so angry: Two weeks ago, the day after Harry had returned home from school for the summer holidays, his uncle had won a fourteen night stay in Florida for four from a raffle at the drill-making company, Grunnings, where he worked. Harry hadn't been too excited at the news- he doubted the Dursley family would be any nicer to him in Florida than at Privet Drive. He also found it unsurprising that, due to his desire to make his nephew as miserable as possible, his Uncle Vernon had opted not to take him along, instead inviting his sister, Marge. Harry's Aunt Petunia, Vernon's wife, and their son, Dudley, would also be going, and they would be staying for a further fortnight at Marjorie Dursley's home after returning from abroad. Uncle Vernon had therefore spent the last two weeks trying to find someone who would keep an eye on Harry while he was away. So far he had been extremely unsuccessful. A shrill cry of "would you not stare at your Uncle like that" coming from the dining room door told Harry that his Aunt Petunia was present. He dearly wished he could say that if he had any desire to stare at anyone, it would not be his Uncle Vernon, but he thought better of it. Aunt Petunia, though, had in no stretch of the imagination finished talking. "Look at you! Sitting idly about while your uncle and I work to the bone trying to find someone to take your ungrateful self while we're away!" "Why can't I just stay here?" Harry suggested. Uncle Vernon became even more enraged at this remark than he had at the letter. "LEAVE YOU HERE? DO WE LOOK STUPID! WE'D HAVE NO HOME TO COME BACK TO! AND YOU- YOU'D BE FREE TO SHOW OFF YOUR... YOUR... ABNORMALITY! THERE'S NO WAY THAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN! AND DON'T EVEN THINK YOU'LL BE STAYING WITH THOSE. THOSE FRIENDS OF YOURS EITHER!" He stopped to take a breath before saying quietly but savagely. "I've had enough of you. Go to your room and don't come back down until we say so." Harry willingly obliged, his uncle's words still ringing in his ears.
We'd have no home to come back to! Harry repeated angrily in his mind. Did the Dursleys think he was going to blow the house up? He still didn't know how! He couldn't deny, however, that he was indeed abnormal.
Though Harry looked like a normal boy, he was, in fact, a wizard; a wizard who had undergone four years of training at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where they were taught complex charms, how to brew powerful potions (and then have them criticised by the hook-nosed Potions master, Snape) and transfigure objects into other objects, and learned of great wizarding events of the past in the extremely boring History of Magic, and wild magical animals in Care of Magical Creatures, taught by one of Harry's close friends and the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. Hogwarts was more like home to Harry than Privet Drive would ever be, and, as always, he felt lost in the summer, isolated from the wizarding world, Quidditch- his favourite wizarding sport- and his friends. Uncle Vernon wouldn't have to worry about Harry staying with any of his friends either. In his first and third summers after starting at Hogwarts four years ago, he had stayed with his best friend Ron Weasley, but his mother, Molly, had just as good as had been forbidden to take Harry by Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry could rule out his other best friend, Hermione Granger, as well. Apart from the fact that he had absolutely no idea where she was, Hermione's parents were Muggles (non- magical people) and would not very easily be able to smuggle Harry out. It was a sad fact, then, that Harry would have no contact with the wizarding world until his return to Hogwarts on September the first. All three of the Dursleys were one hundred percent Muggle and despised magic of any description. To them, having a wizard in the house was a matter of deepest shame, which was why Uncle Vernon loved so much to keep Harry unhappy.
After saying hello to Hedwig, the snowy owl Hagrid had bought him for his eleventh birthday, Harry reached for a comb on his bedside table, and tried once again to flatten his messy black hair, revealing a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. This scar was perhaps the only proof that Harry was special, even among wizards. Almost fourteen years ago, on the Halloween of 1981, when Harry was just a year old, his father, James Potter, had been betrayed by one of his closest friends, Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, who gave information of their whereabouts to Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard who had ever lived. With Wormtail's information, Voldemort had broken in to the Potter household at Godric's Hollow, and killed James with the lethal Avada Kedavra curse. Voldemort also killed Lily Potter, Harry's mother, before turning to Harry himself. Voldemort had tried to cast the Avada Kedavra curse on Harry, but hadn't been able to kill the child; because Lily Potter had sacrificed herself to save her son, she had left an ancient magic upon him- magic that was able to repel Voldemort's attack. Harry escaped with the lightning scar on his forehead. Voldemort, however, was stripped of his powers and his body when his curse backfired.
Thus, Voldemort had been defeated, and Harry had become the most famous child in the wizarding world. The fingers of blame for the Potter's deaths had pointed to Sirius Black, James' best friend and Harry's own godfather, who everyone thought to have held the information Voldemort required. Harry had found out the truth in his third year, when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, the wizard's prison, to track down Wormtail. Harry had been extremely surprised to see that the man who had supposedly tried to avenge his parents, and was meant to be dead, was none other than Scabbers, Ron's old pet rat. Wormtail had faked his own death, by blasting apart a large section of a street, killed thirteen Muggles with a single curse- framing Sirius Black- and escaped down the sewers with the rats; Wormtail was an Animagus- a wizard capable of transforming into a particular animal at will- in his case, it was a rat. Sirius had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for crimes he had not committed, and, even today, few people actually knew he was innocent. Sirius, as far as Harry new, was now hiding with his other best friend, Remus Lupin, who had been Harry's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in his third year (Hogwarts had had a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher every year- some believed the job was jinxed), evading the Ministry of Magic and rebelling against Voldemort.
Thirteen years after that Halloween night, though, just a couple of months ago, Harry had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth, having been transported to the grave of Voldemort's own father, Tom Riddle, whom the Dark Lord had killed himself. The Portkey that had transported him was the Triwizard Cup that he and Cedric Diggory had agreed to win simultaneously. Cedric was killed on the spot. He was just a spare, unimportant to Voldemort. Voldemort had then been reborn with an ancient spell that required the bone of the father, the flesh of the servant, Wormtail and the blood of the enemy. Harry.
Harry could still feel the pain in his arm where Wormtail had cut it. The wound had left a scar. Not an especially unusual scar, like the one on his forehead, but he sometimes felt it throb like the lightning bolt scar. Sometimes they would hurt simultaneously and throb in time with each other. The scar was Harry's sign that Voldemort had indeed returned; that it had not all been a terrible dream. Harry had fought with the Dark Lord that night; almost gotten himself killed. But he had been saved by a mysterious side effect. Since Harry's and Voldemort's wands were brothers, they could not be made to duel each other, and when they were forced to Voldemort's wand had been affected by Priori Incantatem, which showed spells a wand had cast in reverse order. Voldemort had been overcome by the shadows of those he had killed, and Harry had managed to escape, dragging Cedric with him, using the Triwizard Cup Portkey that had brought them there. Right now, however, Harry was home. Safe. Or was he? He had heard that Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwarts headmaster, had cast protective enchantments around the Dursley household. Harry smiled a half-smile. Dumbledore always knew what he was doing. Harry was safe here. He turned his attention to a more immediate problem.
It looked like Harry might be a temporary homeless if the Dursleys didn't find him somewhere to stay. He knew that Uncle Vernon wasn't joking when he told Harry that he would never let him stay home alone, and nobody would pay for him to go on holiday with them. He sighed, letting go of the comb that had been hanging by his side for the last few minutes. When the comb hit the ground, though, Harry was surprised, as it sounded like it had hit glass rather than wood. Tap tap tap. Funny. But he hadn't dropped anything this time. Tap tap tap. It was then that Harry realised what the sound was. He tilted his head towards his window.
There were two owls tapping with their feet on the other side.
This fanfic was written by Sodoff Baldrick (Sod_off_Baldrick@hotmail.com)
Harry Potter and the Autocrat of the Undead.
Chapter 1-
Mr. Vernon Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, stared angrily at the letter in front of him:
Dear Mr. Dursley,
I am sorry to have to tell you that we cannot look after your nephew between the dates of August the First to September the First inclusive, as we are fully booked at that time. Normally, he would have been easily accommodated, but the summer holidays are perhaps our busiest time of year, and this year there has been a sudden increase in demand for childcare services such as ours. Work is being planned at present to expand our site, and we should be able to take your nephew next year.
We apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused you
Yours sincerely, Graham Deely
After reading the letter through a second time, Vernon Dursley savagely ripped the letter into shreds and threw them manically across the breakfast table into the white plastic bin in the far corner of the dining room. His nephew, Harry, looked up from his bowl of soggy cornflakes and registered the rage in the face of his uncle. He knew right away what was making him so angry: Two weeks ago, the day after Harry had returned home from school for the summer holidays, his uncle had won a fourteen night stay in Florida for four from a raffle at the drill-making company, Grunnings, where he worked. Harry hadn't been too excited at the news- he doubted the Dursley family would be any nicer to him in Florida than at Privet Drive. He also found it unsurprising that, due to his desire to make his nephew as miserable as possible, his Uncle Vernon had opted not to take him along, instead inviting his sister, Marge. Harry's Aunt Petunia, Vernon's wife, and their son, Dudley, would also be going, and they would be staying for a further fortnight at Marjorie Dursley's home after returning from abroad. Uncle Vernon had therefore spent the last two weeks trying to find someone who would keep an eye on Harry while he was away. So far he had been extremely unsuccessful. A shrill cry of "would you not stare at your Uncle like that" coming from the dining room door told Harry that his Aunt Petunia was present. He dearly wished he could say that if he had any desire to stare at anyone, it would not be his Uncle Vernon, but he thought better of it. Aunt Petunia, though, had in no stretch of the imagination finished talking. "Look at you! Sitting idly about while your uncle and I work to the bone trying to find someone to take your ungrateful self while we're away!" "Why can't I just stay here?" Harry suggested. Uncle Vernon became even more enraged at this remark than he had at the letter. "LEAVE YOU HERE? DO WE LOOK STUPID! WE'D HAVE NO HOME TO COME BACK TO! AND YOU- YOU'D BE FREE TO SHOW OFF YOUR... YOUR... ABNORMALITY! THERE'S NO WAY THAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN! AND DON'T EVEN THINK YOU'LL BE STAYING WITH THOSE. THOSE FRIENDS OF YOURS EITHER!" He stopped to take a breath before saying quietly but savagely. "I've had enough of you. Go to your room and don't come back down until we say so." Harry willingly obliged, his uncle's words still ringing in his ears.
We'd have no home to come back to! Harry repeated angrily in his mind. Did the Dursleys think he was going to blow the house up? He still didn't know how! He couldn't deny, however, that he was indeed abnormal.
Though Harry looked like a normal boy, he was, in fact, a wizard; a wizard who had undergone four years of training at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where they were taught complex charms, how to brew powerful potions (and then have them criticised by the hook-nosed Potions master, Snape) and transfigure objects into other objects, and learned of great wizarding events of the past in the extremely boring History of Magic, and wild magical animals in Care of Magical Creatures, taught by one of Harry's close friends and the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. Hogwarts was more like home to Harry than Privet Drive would ever be, and, as always, he felt lost in the summer, isolated from the wizarding world, Quidditch- his favourite wizarding sport- and his friends. Uncle Vernon wouldn't have to worry about Harry staying with any of his friends either. In his first and third summers after starting at Hogwarts four years ago, he had stayed with his best friend Ron Weasley, but his mother, Molly, had just as good as had been forbidden to take Harry by Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry could rule out his other best friend, Hermione Granger, as well. Apart from the fact that he had absolutely no idea where she was, Hermione's parents were Muggles (non- magical people) and would not very easily be able to smuggle Harry out. It was a sad fact, then, that Harry would have no contact with the wizarding world until his return to Hogwarts on September the first. All three of the Dursleys were one hundred percent Muggle and despised magic of any description. To them, having a wizard in the house was a matter of deepest shame, which was why Uncle Vernon loved so much to keep Harry unhappy.
After saying hello to Hedwig, the snowy owl Hagrid had bought him for his eleventh birthday, Harry reached for a comb on his bedside table, and tried once again to flatten his messy black hair, revealing a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. This scar was perhaps the only proof that Harry was special, even among wizards. Almost fourteen years ago, on the Halloween of 1981, when Harry was just a year old, his father, James Potter, had been betrayed by one of his closest friends, Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, who gave information of their whereabouts to Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard who had ever lived. With Wormtail's information, Voldemort had broken in to the Potter household at Godric's Hollow, and killed James with the lethal Avada Kedavra curse. Voldemort also killed Lily Potter, Harry's mother, before turning to Harry himself. Voldemort had tried to cast the Avada Kedavra curse on Harry, but hadn't been able to kill the child; because Lily Potter had sacrificed herself to save her son, she had left an ancient magic upon him- magic that was able to repel Voldemort's attack. Harry escaped with the lightning scar on his forehead. Voldemort, however, was stripped of his powers and his body when his curse backfired.
Thus, Voldemort had been defeated, and Harry had become the most famous child in the wizarding world. The fingers of blame for the Potter's deaths had pointed to Sirius Black, James' best friend and Harry's own godfather, who everyone thought to have held the information Voldemort required. Harry had found out the truth in his third year, when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, the wizard's prison, to track down Wormtail. Harry had been extremely surprised to see that the man who had supposedly tried to avenge his parents, and was meant to be dead, was none other than Scabbers, Ron's old pet rat. Wormtail had faked his own death, by blasting apart a large section of a street, killed thirteen Muggles with a single curse- framing Sirius Black- and escaped down the sewers with the rats; Wormtail was an Animagus- a wizard capable of transforming into a particular animal at will- in his case, it was a rat. Sirius had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for crimes he had not committed, and, even today, few people actually knew he was innocent. Sirius, as far as Harry new, was now hiding with his other best friend, Remus Lupin, who had been Harry's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in his third year (Hogwarts had had a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher every year- some believed the job was jinxed), evading the Ministry of Magic and rebelling against Voldemort.
Thirteen years after that Halloween night, though, just a couple of months ago, Harry had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth, having been transported to the grave of Voldemort's own father, Tom Riddle, whom the Dark Lord had killed himself. The Portkey that had transported him was the Triwizard Cup that he and Cedric Diggory had agreed to win simultaneously. Cedric was killed on the spot. He was just a spare, unimportant to Voldemort. Voldemort had then been reborn with an ancient spell that required the bone of the father, the flesh of the servant, Wormtail and the blood of the enemy. Harry.
Harry could still feel the pain in his arm where Wormtail had cut it. The wound had left a scar. Not an especially unusual scar, like the one on his forehead, but he sometimes felt it throb like the lightning bolt scar. Sometimes they would hurt simultaneously and throb in time with each other. The scar was Harry's sign that Voldemort had indeed returned; that it had not all been a terrible dream. Harry had fought with the Dark Lord that night; almost gotten himself killed. But he had been saved by a mysterious side effect. Since Harry's and Voldemort's wands were brothers, they could not be made to duel each other, and when they were forced to Voldemort's wand had been affected by Priori Incantatem, which showed spells a wand had cast in reverse order. Voldemort had been overcome by the shadows of those he had killed, and Harry had managed to escape, dragging Cedric with him, using the Triwizard Cup Portkey that had brought them there. Right now, however, Harry was home. Safe. Or was he? He had heard that Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwarts headmaster, had cast protective enchantments around the Dursley household. Harry smiled a half-smile. Dumbledore always knew what he was doing. Harry was safe here. He turned his attention to a more immediate problem.
It looked like Harry might be a temporary homeless if the Dursleys didn't find him somewhere to stay. He knew that Uncle Vernon wasn't joking when he told Harry that he would never let him stay home alone, and nobody would pay for him to go on holiday with them. He sighed, letting go of the comb that had been hanging by his side for the last few minutes. When the comb hit the ground, though, Harry was surprised, as it sounded like it had hit glass rather than wood. Tap tap tap. Funny. But he hadn't dropped anything this time. Tap tap tap. It was then that Harry realised what the sound was. He tilted his head towards his window.
There were two owls tapping with their feet on the other side.