HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER
Summary: Someone casts a nasty spell that catapults Harry to Hogwarts of the past, where his parents are in their sixth year to be exact. Trapped in the past, he must hide the truth of his past, their future and the demanding duties of the slayer.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Though I do hold claim to the plot!
Author's notes: I apologise for this chapter being so late. I have no excuse except for a case of Writer's Block. Again, I apologise.
Now, we get into what I think is the hardest part of the stories. Trying to come up with a timeline that sticks as close as possible to JK Rowling's truth but the problem is, I have very few facts to work with. Looking through the books, the only clues and facts are inconsistent but I have dutifully slogged through them. I have spent nearly two weeks researching these facts so if anybody flames me because of inaccuracies, I'll just stick my tongue out at you *not that you could see me anyway*
According to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party, he celebrated 500 years of death in 1992, having died in 1492. That has to be a mistake. As Dudley's Sony Playstation is mentioned, it cannot have been 1992 as the Playstation was first launched in the UK in 1997. And we still don't know when Dudley got it. So assuming little Dudders got it fairly soon after it became popular, say between 1997-1999, around that time Harry started his first year at Hogwarts. The way I'm working things is that Harry was 16 in 2003, having been born in 1987. So his canon Hogwarts years would go as follows:
Sixth year: 2003 - 2004
Fifth year: 2002 – 2003.
Fourth: 2001 - 2002
Third: 2000 - 2001
Second: 1999 - 2000
First: 1998 – 1999.
I repeat; any flames because of this will be chased down by a rabid vampire.
And here comes another canon maybe (I repeat: - no flames accepted) My theory is that Lily and James married young and had Harry soon after. So the Marauder's generation would be about 35 in 2003, (The year ending Harry's fifth year and starting his sixth year), having been born circa 1968. And so their Hogwarts years would be as follows: -
Seventh year: 1985 - 1986
Sixth year: 1984 - 1985
Fifth year: 1983 - 1984
Fourth: 1982 - 1983
Third: 1981 - 1982
Second: 1980 - 1981
First: 1979 - 1980
This is my timeline. Like it or loath it but after spending so many hours on it, I'll be too sick of it to really care. And now on to nicer, more interesting things.
Have I mentioned I love reviews? I thank all of you who reviewed. They really help me get over Writer's Block when I fall victim to it and help speed up the writing process. And by the way, not one of you got the significance of the chessboard right in the last chapter. Think harder.
ADJ – Thanks for reviewing. Harry didn't let Angelus and Voldemort attack each other because can you imagine them ganging up on him? As in working together? He would have been in deep trouble. Snape may be powerful but Dumbledore has got a ton of blackmail options, manipulation techniques and various other tactics to make sure he has Snape where he wants him. After all, Snape, though very strong, cannot take down a legion of aurors, Dementors, Dumbledore and his betrayed 'master' Voldemort. Can anyone say manhunt? Yes, JK Rowling's fifth book is brill! Poor Sirius though! Thanks so much for your pleasing comments on my fic!
Ancalime2 – Wow, you're astute! I cannot believe you live in Rumania. I mean what are the odds! As to where I got the spell for Angelus's curse, it actually comes from the Buffy TV show and is the one used to curse him with a soul whenever he loses it. So I cannot lay claim to any mistakes it might contain. But I just have to say wow! Glad you liked the exchange between Angelus and Voldie!
Arizosa – I have freely admitted that I am an evil, evil person. But I resent the devil comment. I have a halo, you know, the horns are only there to hold it up…
atalante – How could I stop there? One reason and one reason only – I'm cruel.
athenakitty – Thanks for reviewing! Harry's watcher will come in to this fic and already has in letters and such. And yes, Harry-haters will get what's coming to them… Be afraid. Be very afraid.
BlackDiva – Glad to be back too. Thanks for reviewing!
unico – I'm really glad you like both my stories! I do have more in the works! This summer's been really great for ideas! As for your question about Snape… sorry you have to wait and see.
Carneol – Thank you very much for reviewing! And as to your comments about Harry's luck, I so agree. Yes, that was the moment Snape had been waiting for but as for Remus being the glowing eyes in the dark, wait and see but I will give you this hint. It's not very likely its him. *g*
CatatonicReaction – I get what you're saying about Sev being portrayed as a loner in the fifth book but really; I think the Marauders would be saying geek. Oh when I get to write those scenes… *sighs wistfully* Prepare for war.
Clingon87 – Thanks so much for the compliment! I'm so glad you're liking this fic!
CrimsonNoble – Thanks for reviewing. And as for the students' reactions, you bring up a very good point.
DarkWolfyOne – Thanks so much! Glad you like the fic! And don't worry Harry will get to kick plenty of ass!
Dramicka – I made you speechless?
Eriee – Thanks for reviewing! Now you get to find out where Harry went to!
FantasyChick – Where he ends up is answered in this chapter and as for the other question HP/SS all the way! Though it's gonna be a long haul.
Fate – You honour me!
Ficfan – Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the Dumbledore/Harry plotline.
Fireangle – Thanks for your comments on the theme for the ball! I'd been a bit wary about it.
Gryphnwng – On the edge of your seat again? You seem to spend a lot of time there. *evil smirk* And I like keeping you there! Aren't cliffhangers grand? And I've read your fic which is really good! Down with Dumbledore I say!
Holy-Demon – Wow! Two reviews! Cool! Glad you liked the story! Though I think the 'millions' estimate is a bit, okay a lot, far fetched. Thanks anyway though! They were really nice reviews!
IceTastesNice – You have made flattery an art form! I thank you!
iDiT – Thank you, thank you. *bows dramatically* Glad you liked the chapter!
Immortal TigerWolf – Well, it's not so much Harry-bashing as Dumbledore-bashing but it's setting things up for future chapters.
Jewelclaw Lady of Wind – That was a fair load of questions! I hope the speed of this post is better – then again nearly anything is an improvement on last time! The basilisk…hmmm… yes, it is the one from the Chamber of Secrets. The person in the shadows of the chamber… I was wondering when someone was going to ask about that…but I'm not telling. Too important to the plot. Sorry. Adopt a wait and see policy with regards to that. Thanks for your very complimentary review!
Kalor – Thanks for the thought provoking review! Eh, no its not exactly another plane of existence but for poor Harry it might as well be, *laughs uproariously*
Keebler-elmo – In answer to your question – yes!
Kylie – Such a nice review! No, Harry is most definitely not a weakling. And I don't think he's going to be pleased with a Dumbledore of any timeline. As to everybody's reactions, they will be showcased as the fic progresses. Can't give away too much can I? It would ruin my evil reputation. I have no plans to discontinue this story! None whatsoever! I'm having too much fun! I liked your description of the guy in Harry's dream, 'the freaky dude that comes with the chess set'. But the readers will probably find out who he is when Harry does. You don't have to know much of the vamp's background to enjoy his presence. His duty in this fic is to cause mystery, murder and mayhem. Remus will be coming into this story most definitely and as for Sirius, so not sure yet. Bill and Charlie? Maybe at some point but I don't see how they could come into it as more than minor characters with the time the story is in now but as requested, I have worked them in somehow. You do realise that you're the only one who said I could take my time with the next chapter! It's nice to know one person who won't kill me if I'm late!
Lady Shang – Thanks! I'm happy that you think this is original!
Lady Melime – You are indeed correct in your deductions. I'm glad you liked the Angelus vs Voldemort scene.
Lady Phoenix Gryffindor – I'm so happy that you liked the little Voldemort vs Angelus scene when they were arguing over Harry. And as for Dumbledore dying…I'm so not telling.
Lady Rowena – Changed your name again, huh? Thank you so much for the lovely review.
Leah – Thanks for reviewing! Glad you liked the catfight between Voldie and Angelus!
LeopardDance – Interesting review! It's nice to know I rock.
Lukaret – Now, if Harry had shredded Dumbledore, all the fun of annoying him would be gone! Glad you like the ball and the comedy scene. And yes I love cliffhangers – but only when I'm the one writing them!
Luna the Moonmonster – I really hope the suspense hasn't killed you already!
Lynlyn – Thanks for the review! Did I ever mention how much I love them? Yes, the chessboard's back. Why do you think Harry's going to choose black? He's not exactly on the best of terms with Voldemort. Yes, Ares is the basilisk. As to who he's talking to – not telling! And who says he hasn't helped Harry? *author has evil, evil thoughts in mind for the future* As to Sirius, - Houston I have a problem there! He's supposed to be dead in canon! *grumbles* Oh well, this is AU anyway. I'll work around it! Why do all you people want Dumbledore dead straight away?! I want to torment him first! I actually used the yellow rat as a reference to Ron's first attempt at a spell. Which backfired. And I didn't want Harry going on a murderous rampage, not that he would have been able to with so many people lining up to kill him! Revenge, who said anything about revenge? Let me assure you that Harry has not even started to plan his revenge yet. And who says that this will be the last they see of the infamous Boy-Who-Lived?
Melissa – I am well aware it ends on a cliffhanger. As was intended. And yes, I've continued it. hope you like this chapter!
Mercyangel – There will be some Sunnydale characters making their way to Hogwarts. Some.
Mortal enemy of inanimate objects – Cool name. Your review was so nice! My head's swelling as I write. Um, a few other dark or kick-ass Harry fics are: The Silver Serpent by Random HP Fan, The Prophecy of the Serpent by Gryphnwng, Dark Blood by Desdemona, Fugitive Prince by March Madness, Let History Repeat Itself by Dauphin, Love and War by the Red Dragons Order, Mirrorverse by Piri Lupin-Snape, The Mirror of Maybe by Midnight Blue, The Other Side of the Mirror by Cyan, The Dark Prince by Saerry Snape, Harry Potter and the Hybrids of Voldemort by Brilliant, Harry Potter and the Veneficus Quies by Atlantis Potter, Not Myself by Saerry Snape, Blood by Artemis Luna Diana, Let the Darkness Take You by SwirlyStars, Warlock of Darkness, Healer of Light by Mystic Shadow, The Paradox of Existence by Dragonlight, Harry Potter and the Mirror of Paradox by Yih, Changing Ideals by Myk. And I know there's quite a few others out there whose names are hovering on the edge of my mind but that I just can't remember!
Oriana Dumbledore – Thanks so much! I love your fics by the way!
Potter-man – Two reviews! I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouragement is much appreciated!
Professor – Yes, Ron is a prat, isn't he? I'm glad that you think my characters are believable! It's nice to know I'm doing something right!
Queen of Vegetasai – You brought up some really good questions! Good for you! About Harry detecting the knife, Harry is still technically a rookie slayer, having been recently called. And considering everything that was going on, I think we can forgive him if he doesn't detect everything. As for Snape not hissing 'Shire… Baggins…' all the time; in the Buffy episode in which Ethan charmed the costumes for Halloween, those who were dead, for example ghosts, wraiths or anything along that line kept their personalities so I let Sev keep his. I totally agree with on you on the Cho/Harry thing. Scaaary. Thank you so much for such a nice (and long) review! And as per your demands, the author has got to work.
Rogue1615 – Thanks for reviewing! It seems that you and everybody wants to kill half of the characters off!
sabriel-chan – Harry Potter is the more prominent genre in this fic so you really don't have to know that much about Buffy to enjoy it.
Sadie-IceBlade – Thanks for reviewing. And as to Harry going evil, you'll just have to wait and see!
Sandrine Black – Thank you so much!
Temporary Insanity – I thank you. But Angelus and Voldemort killing each other off would have been no fun! And yes, Dumbledore is over-confident. He thought he had everybody where he wanted them. As to pairings, I'm open to both slash and het. It doesn't really bother me either way.
The Keeper of Darkness – You flatter me! How am I going to be able to fit my head through the door with such lovely compliments?! Thanks for reviewing! Do so again!
Twinkle – Thanks for reviewing! What will happen in the past? Wait and see! Yes, Harry still looks like Voldie. And yes, it will be HP/SS.
Usa – Dumbledore tries to use everything to his advantage. Thanks for the compliments!
Veralidaine Sarrasri – Thanks! I'm glad I changed your opinion on crossovers! Hope you like this chapter! J
Wiccachic2000 - You flatter me, really! And in response to your question; Dumbledore tends to have more credibility than Harry 'Insane-according-to-the-press' Potter.
Wolf Lupin – *smiles* Cliffhangers aren't evil for the one writing them!
And thanks to everyone else who reviewed:
April
Baz
BlueDream1
B0B
Catherine
Delphine Pryde
DraconisSenshi
DustinErin
immortalbuffyfan
jess
Lady Sakura
Maggie
Namwolf
Pyschomek
Raerei_c
Rick
Sil
Slim
Venus Rose
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE BOY WHO LIVED AND LIVED AND WOULDN'T DIE
"Have you ever felt
The future is the past
But you don't know how...?
A reflected dream
Of a captured time
Is it now, is it really happening?"
-- Janick Gers & Steve Harris (Iron Maiden), "Dream of Mirrors"
Harry's back impacted against hard ground with a painful thud. His head was spinning, his stomach was churning and his slayer senses were going wild. All in all he felt miserable.
Which was to be expected considering the night he had had…
Memory rushed back to him as the sound of screaming and running feet registered. Opening his eyes, and sitting up with a groan, he was shocked to see the state of utter pandemonium that had affected… Diagon Alley? What the hell was he doing in Diagon Alley? The last thing he remembered was the attempted murder of him and then a brilliant flash of light.
Okay, maybe he was dumb by that still didn't explain how he ended up in Diagon Alley. Or the reason why everyone was running around as if they had seen the Dark Lord… He smacked himself in the forehead, how could he be so dense? He was still dressed as the Dark Lord! Everybody in the street probably thought he was Voldemort!
That would certainly explain the panicking, for one thing.
And the horde of aurors swarming down the alley towards him.
Running would probably be a good option, at least until he figured out what was going on. And especially since both Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter were wanted by the Ministry.
Blocking a stunning spell, he started running, dodging down several side streets before morphing into his cat animagus form. As predicted the aurors raced on by. Harry trotted along, heading back to Diagon Alley, hoping to find some answers to his ever-growing repertoire of questions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
As the Harry-kitty strolled down Diagon Alley, he began to notice differences, things that hadn't been there the last time he'd visited the wizarding street. Shops that he knew had never been there were in business, other shops that he expected to see weren't anywhere along the alley. It was a puzzle, a puzzle that he didn't even have half the pieces to.
His state of confusion didn't last long. Outside Flourish and Blotts, there was a copy of the Daily Prophet on the ground. A relatively new copy judging by its condition. Looking at it nearly gave Harry a heart attack.
Because at the very top of the front page was the date. 05 August 1984.
Over nineteen years in the past to be precise!
If Harry had been the type to faint, he'd be flat on the ground by now. As it was, all his fur was standing on end as if he'd been electrocuted.
How in Merlin's name could this have happened?! His eyes narrowed to slits, Dumbledore… it had to be something to do with Dumbledore's actions before the Great Flash of Light as Harry had dubbed it.
He was in such deep trouble, he didn't even know where to begin digging himself out of it! 1984… that was three years before he was even born! Okay, let's just start with the basics Harry, he told himself, trying to calm down.
He didn't have a lot to go on, so he decided to sum up what he did know. One, he really didn't have a clue how he got here. Two – he didn't know how to get back. Three – he really couldn't afford to screw up the timelines. Four – he was already messing up the timelines just by being there! Five – Harry Potter didn't and couldn't exist here. Six – that ruled out his Gringotts vault. Seven – he was completely and utterly screwed!
He dejectedly plonked himself down on top of the paper, his head resting on his paws. This just wasn't of the good.
1984… Well, Fudge wasn't Minister of Magic anymore, what had they said in his third year? Oh yes, Fudge was currently a junior minister with the Department of Magical Catastrophes. Who the current Minister of Magic was he didn't have a clue. Barty Crouch Sr was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he knew that. And of course, the real killer was Voldemort.
Voldemort who was currently Mr All Powerful Dark Lord. With his army built up, his allies secured and half of the wizarding world either under his thrall or voluntary working for him while the other half was running scared.
Not to mention that his parents would be starting his sixth year around this time.
Oh, he could foresee a lot of headaches in the future. How in Merlin's name did he get himself into these messes?!
What was he going to do? Most of his friends hadn't been born yet; the others wouldn't know him as he technically didn't exist yet. And his mobile phone wouldn't work as the bloody network didn't exist!
What had he done to deserve this? He must have killed an entire family of Murphy's in a past life. Still there was hope, he knew some people who'd probably believe him. He wasn't feeling very kindly towards Angel at the moment. Besides the guy was still on his 'tortured-vamp-with-a-soul-who-lives-in-an-alley-and-lives-on-rats-whilst-moping' kick. Buffy and the Sunnydale gang were toddlers, he didn't have a clue as to where to find Giles and he really didn't want to have to go to the Watchers' Council unless he absolutely had to. So that left one option…
Lorne.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
Lorne one of those rare demons who didn't want to kill people, maim, cheat, swindle etc. In fact he made his living helping people. He had green skin, red horns, wore bright suits and owned a karaoke bar in Los Angeles called Caritas. He could read peoples' destinies while they sang so he earned his money by giving advice to said people. Not to mention the spells he had all over the bar, which prevented fighting on the premises so it was a kind of haven for pretty much anybody,
As well as being one of Harry's best hopes for information.
Lorne might not know him but he'd be able to read Harry if he sang and he just might have some insight into this whole mess.
Walking into the bar, he winced as his sensitive ears were assaulted by one demon's attempts at singing. And to say said demon's voice was like nails scraping along a blackboard was a gross understatement.
Spotting Lorne in the corner near the stage, visibly trying not to prematurely lose his hearing, he quickly crossed over to the very brightly dressed demon. "Hey Lorne," he greeted casually, causing the horned head to snap around.
Lorne looked at him in puzzlement for a second before very obviously cringing, "Geez, kitten, you are in trouble!" he exclaimed. Clearly, whatever Harry's aura was projecting it was not a good thing.
Once the more sensible part of his brain was finished bemoaning what was undoubtedly going to be a litany of bad news and migraine inducing problems, he bristled at Lorne's habit of giving endearments to everybody. Did he have a sign saying 'kitten' on his back or something? Still, it was better than Angelus's nickname; Angelcakes… really, it made Harry snigger every time he thought about it.
"I need your help," Harry said.
Lorne waved at the bartender, who brought him a drink – his favourite 'seabreeze' before addressing Harry. "You know the deal kitten, you've gotta sing before I can be of any help to you."
"I know that!" Harry said before he realised something very important and potentially mortifying. Did he even know any songs from around this time?! "But I don't think I know any songs to sing!" he cried, mentally pleading with Lorne not to expose him to such humiliation that would likely end with Harry staking something.
Lorne only flashed him a bright smile, "Nonsense! Go take a look at the karaoke machine and find something you like. And you might want to make it snappy 'cos you're up next."
Lorne would never have any idea exactly how close he came to having the karaoke machine chucked at him by an irate slayer.
Perusing the selection, that sinking feeling grew as he looked at page after page of songs he had never heard of let alone wanted to make a fool of himself singing them. Eventually he decided on Bon Jovi's 'Shot Through the Heart*', simply because he had heard it a couple of times before.
For a guy who battled vampires and demons on a regular basis and had near death experiences with Voldemort every year, it was kind of hard to believe how nervous a person could get while singing. On a stage. In a bar full of demons. In the past. And did he mention the whole bar full of demons who don't like slayers part?
At least his voice had broken already and he didn't have to endure three minutes of having to sound like a cross between Mickey Mouse and the Chipmunks. And in his modest opinion, he didn't do so badly but he was ever so glad to get off the stage and away from the few predatory demons eyeing him. He had enough problems to deal with without having to worry if he'd change the future if he killed this demon or that vampire. Easiest way out of that quagmire was not to get into a fight at all. Which also sucked, because in his current condition, he could really use something to beat to a bloody pulp.
Making a beeline towards Lorne, he plonked himself down in the chair opposite and took advantage of the free coca cola. He had looked wistfully at the alcohol but he didn't plan on getting killed just because he wanted to get drunk for a few blissful hours. He had enough things trying to kill him without adding more to the list.
"Well, can you help me or not?" he asked Lorne, who was studying him as if he were a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope.
"A slayer?" Lorne questioned in a low voice, "Who made that screw up? Whistler**?!"
"How in Merlin's name do I know?!" Harry hissed, "In case you haven't noticed, I have bigger problems than figuring out which prat decided to turn my life into a game of Murphy's Law!"
"That you do," Lorne agreed, "I've seen trouble in my time but this takes the biscuit kitten! Time travel… I never even thought it was possible…"
"You're supposed to be able to read my destiny? Which path I'm supposed to take? I've heard you were good at it in my time so what am I supposed to do?!"
"I'm still alive?" Lorne asked, then waved a hand to ward off a soon to be attacking slayer, "Uh, sorry. Okay, the situation is something sent you into the past. What I don't know," he added, sensing the vampire slayer's imminent question. "But you're wondering if I know how to get you back?" A nod from the dark-haired boy, "Well, I'm sorry to say I don't. But I can give you some helpful advice. For whatever reason, it seems that you are meant to be here. In this time. You're meant to do something from what I can gather, either directly or from just influencing those around you to do something. From what I can tell, you were a bigwig where you came from and that's more than likely why you were chosen."
Harry gritted his teeth, "Chosen for what exactly?! Isn't being chosen as slayer enough to be chosen for?"
Lorne held up his hands in the universal gesture of peace, "I'm just telling you what I sensed. I don't think it matters too much what you do when you're in this time, as long as you don't destroy anything, or anybody that still exists in the future."
"Well that's just great," Harry drawled sarcastically, "So do you have any idea how long I'm going to be stuck here or is that another thing you don't know?"
"Hey! There's no need to take this out on me!" Lorne defended, "Put away the claws kitten, you can't hurt anybody – or me – in Caritas."
"How very lucky for you," Harry muttered bad-temperedly.
"And in answer to your ever so sweetly phrased question, you could be here for a couple of hours or a couple of decades. Excuse me if I've never met a time travelling slayer before!"
"Would you keep it down already?" Harry hissed at the green-skinned demon, "The last thing I need is to be jumped by a horde of demons with really bad voices the second I step out of the club!"
"Hazards of the job," Lorne deadpanned. "I say just be prepared for a nice long stay in this lovely time. Lay back, get a tan, or better yet have some fun and lose the whole 'I-want-to-rip-you-to-pieces' vibe. It doesn't really attract the ladies."
"You're not telling me everything," Harry accused.
"You haven't asked," Lorne replied, taking a sip of his seabreeze.
I think I like him better when he's not dangling information over my head like a carrot, Harry thought morosely. "Fine! We'll play it that way!" He momentarily trailed off and cringed as a demon with an exceptionally horrible voice that was a cross between screeching cats and wolves' howling started singing the Bee Gees 'Night Fever', complete with the John Travolta-like white suit and strutting dance movements. Not exactly attractive in any circumstances, especially when you've got four arms and skin that resembled mottled sewage. Quite revolting. "What do you know about me?!" he demanded.
"Let's see, vampire slayer, called Harry Potter, has Voldemort chasing after him and survived the Killing Curse. Multiple times."
Harry stared at him for a moment, "You are good," he complimented, "Then if you know so much, any ideas what I'm to do? I've got no name, no money, no past and I could disappear at anytime apparently."
"You're creative. Make something up," was the pragmatic answer.
"Wow, you really strained your brain for that one, didn't you?"
"Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer," was the response, causing Harry to bang his head against the table.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Harry groaned.
Lorne didn't have much sympathy, "I can guess."
"I hate the Watchers' Council," Harry groused, "And I'm British!"
There was a strained silence for a moment before Lorne decided to take the initiative and pry a little further, "You're worried." It was not a question.
"More like pensive. I have a lot of decisions to make." Harry rose abruptly and knocked over a chair, "Heads are going to roll for this," he muttered. "Thanks for the help, what little of it there was."
"Gee, that had to be the most gushing display of gratitude I ever had the pleasure of witnessing," Lorne said sardonically.
"Yeah well, what can I say? I'm having one hell of a day." He turned to leave but stopped when Lorne called out his name.
"Harry? Try not to get killed, okay?"
Harry gave a small smile, "I'm kinda hard to kill." And with that he apparated out of Caritas. His destination: England.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
"Often, the surest way to convey misinformation is to tell the strict truth."
-- Mark Twain, "Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar"
Harry grimaced as he apparated into a secluded little nook in a side street next to the entrance of Watchers' Council Headquarters in London.
He needed information from a source that would believe him. Supernatural information. That meant he had to go to the Watchers' Council Headquarters. He hated the Watchers' Council. With all the bloody vengeance that one could possibly muster when forced to endure their bureaucratic, overbearing, stuffy, out-dated and tyrannical ways. Suffice it to say, he did not take well to being bossed about and told that he was a 'tool' to be used and discarded if it wasn't up to scratch. Their callous views towards the slayers that sacrificed their lives to keep them safe in their opulent offices galled him. The countless slayers came and went, getting no credit for their life's work but the Watchers patted themselves on the back, saying "Jolly good show old chap!"
It made him sick.
And he was sure that they were probably even worse now than they had been when he first met them. After all there was, as of yet, no Buffy Summers to show them who was boss and considering the petite blonde Californian slayer was the first slayer to ever quit the Council, they had had nobody to shake them up.
Until now at least.
They would expect a dutiful, obedient, Council-fearing little slayer who would bow to their every whim. Harry was, under no circumstances, going to do anything they said. Well, at least not unless he was planning on doing it anyway. It was about time to shake up the system, Harry thought with a grin. If there was one thing Albus Dumbledore had taught Harry, it was not to bow to anyone.
Strolling into the Watchers' Council headquarters like he owned the place, having disabled the wards and alarms with ease, he ignored the poor receptionist staring at him in shock and headed to the elevators.
"Hey you!" the receptionist shouted, her shrill voice carrying across the lobby, "You're not allowed go there! Stop!"
Harry snorted, as if that was going to stop him. He could hear her calling for security and with much glee, he waited for them to come running and then he blasted him across the hall, "I so don't have time for this," he complained, before entering the elevator banks and using a handy little spell, gained access to the password restricted underground levels.
Pulling his invisibility cloak around him, he headed for the office of the only watcher he could trust in this time. Rupert Giles, Gryffindor, class of 1975.
Needless to say the young Rupert Giles was shocked to see a disembodied head appear in his office. Luckily for Harry, he'd placed a silencing charm around the room as Giles had his wand out in ten seconds flat. "Peace Ripper," Harry said, using Giles' nickname from his schooldays.
That got the young watcher's attention. "Who are you?" he demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Harry took the cloak off and smiled, "Don't even think of hexing me Ripper, I'll just send it right back. But in answer to your question, I am a Hogwarts student, not a Death Eater but I am known as Harry. The Vampire Slayer."
Giles stood up, anger etched in his face, "I don't know who put you up to this but you had better get out of here before I do something I probably won't regret."
Harry arched an eyebrow and quicker than Giles could follow, his hand shot out and smashed straight through the wall of Giles' office. And when he pulled it back out, there wasn't even a scratch. Giles gaped at him, his jaw nearly hanging to the floor. Harry gave him a little time to collect himself before initiating any more conversation.
Giles quickly re-evaluated his opinions on the person in front of him. He couldn't be a vampire or demon as they couldn't get into the Council building but he was clearly a wizard. And if he could be believed a Vampire Slayer. But that was impossible.
The boy was pale and dark-haired with brilliant emerald green eyes, average height, slim build and probably around sixteen years of age. That wall was solid brick, he should not under any circumstances have been able to punch through a solid wall. "Explain," he demanded hoarsely, sinking back into the chair.
"The short version?" Harry said, "The Powers screwed up, a slayer died, I got called."
"Impossible!" Giles blustered, "The latest slayer was called three months ago and is still alive."
"I never said I was from this time."
"What?!" Giles shouted, "Okay, that's it! I've had it! Ethan put you up to this didn't he? Just get out!"
"Sorry. Can't," Harry said, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Giles, "I'm in a sticky situation and you are going to help me get out of it. Whether you want to or not."
Calmly summoning Giles' wand and placing an immobilisation charm on the man, he took a seat and explained the whole long story to the now hopping mad watcher.
When he had finished, he removed the charm and Giles immediately started speaking, "It's impossible! Even if I were to believe you, you're a boy! It's unheard of! The Council would never stand it… and you're laughing at me aren't you?" he asked, noting Harry's amused expression.
"Oh do go on," Harry said pleasantly, "I'm enjoying listening to you making a fool of yourself."
"Give me one reason why I should believe you."
"I can give you several. For instance in my time, you got back together with an old flame for a while. Olivia I believe?" He was rewarded with Giles' slight blush, "And then there's Eyghon, the demon you and Ethan Rayne and your other friends raised. The one that got out of control and took over a friend of yours by the name of Randall. I also know you never wanted to be a Watcher at first, but you are now a third generation Watcher just like your father wanted."
Giles was staring again. The information about Eghyon was too detailed to be made up and nobody but those involved had ever known what had happened. It wasn't the sort of thing you put down on your résumé after all. "I think I believe you," he said slowly. "But were you by any chance named after Harry Houdini? Because you sure as hell act like him, always getting yourself into impossible situations."
"I wasn't exactly planning on coming here," Harry said sardonically.
"So you defeated Voldemort?" Giles asked, his head reeling.
"As I said. But he kinda came back. He's like a cockroach in that way."
"But how did you survive the Killing Curse?"
"No one really knows but I was told it was because of my mother's sacrifice."
"No Harry, it wasn't your mother's sacrifice." Giles said, thinking on it for a minute, "Many mothers gave their lives for their children since Voldemort surfaced and none of their sacrifices made any difference. The protection she gave you meant that Voldemort couldn't touch you physically, the Killing curse is another matter."
"So are you going to help me?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Do I have any choice?" Giles asked before lowering his head to the desk, "Oh the Council are going to have a field day with this!" he moaned, "I'll be filling out paperwork for months!"
"The Council doesn't have to know," Harry pointed out.
"You broke in here. I think they noticed."
"Probably. But they're looking for an intruder they'll never find. I'm quite good with spells of illusion. Right now, the Watchers' security detail has probably just witnessed one spectacular dive off the roof by fake-me. They'll then spend the next few weeks yelling at security for letting me in and giving me all sorts of glee and revenge induced happy thoughts."
"You don't like the Council much, do you?" Giles asked, only half disapprovingly.
"Oh sure, they're up there with erupting volcanoes and end of the world disasters on my likeable things list."
"Maybe I should tell Travers*** about this then?" Giles teased.
"Shut up Giles or I'll shrink you and feed you to a boa constrictor." Harry replied, snarling at the very thought. "Now are you going to help me?"
"Help you find a way back to your time? I don't even know where to begin! This has never actually happened before since the Council was founded!"
"Well, starting with your precious books might be a good idea," Harry suggested, "And any advice would be much appreciated."
"Well, it looks like you're stuck here for a while. So get a new identity."
"Yeah, I can see how they're so easy to get!" Harry cried, "At least tell me about the Voldemort situation!"
"The Voldemort situation?" Giles repeated disbelievingly, "Most wizards and witches tend to call him You-Know-Who and oh yes, he's trying to take over the Wizarding world."
"I knew that but I need details," Harry pressed, "I need to know what he's up to!"
Giles unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out a few rolls of parchment. Unrolling one, he spread it out on the desk and Harry could see it was a map. "The war with Voldemort is a civil war in the Wizarding world." Giles started, "Most are divided at this point. Most of the pureblood families back him up, though covertly, most have probably joined the Death Eaters or are at least allied with them. Then there's Dumbledore's faction which is growing and those who cower behind the supposed safety of a corrupted Ministry of Magic and grossly ineffective aurors. The aurors are nearly as bad as the Death Eaters since they were allowed to perform the Unforgivable curses at their discretion."
Giles paused, grabbing a marker, "Voldemort is mobilising his armies at strategic positions all over the globe," he explained as he marked areas on the map. His plans for the moment seem to be the takeover of the Wizarding world for the moment. He tortures Muggles for fun or if he's bored but he won't try and control them as well until he has the wizarding world firmly under his command."
"He's not going to attack openly, not yet. It wouldn't be worth it." Harry agreed, "Muggles outnumber the Wizarding population by over a million to one. Even with magic on our side we could not fight off such numbers if the muggles ever began hunting for us."
"Voldemort doesn't understand muggles. While I agree with them being inferior with regards to our power levels, they outnumber us and over the years they have invented many different ways of killing each other. Even wizards and witches can die by muggle means. He doesn't seem to understand that we couldn't fight them off forever and that victory for us would be uncertain at best. The Council knows this. We and all involved in the occult world, well except for the bad guys, go to great lengths to avoid detection by muggles and most of the wizarding population. Those who try and expose them die. Simple and brutal but effective." Giles went on, "But in the Wizarding world, they're not far away from instating martial law as both sides grow. Unfortunately the way things look, Voldemort has the upper hand, until well, until baby-you does whatever you did."
"Right so it's chaos, fear, panic and on the verge of war. What a happy little time I had to fall into."
"I have to ask you, what's your view on this?" Giles asked, "The Watchers Council and the Slayer will not be getting involved unless we come under threat. Which we won't, considering most of the more powerful demons are staying out of this as well. Until they see who wins at least."
"Actually, I agree with neither side. I believe none of them are right in their ideals so I'm stuck in the middle on this one."
"So you're going to stay out of it?"
"Not exactly. I have to have a policy of zero tolerance. If I let my enemies live they'll just come back with reinforcements and I'll eventually end up dying. That policy extends to Death Eaters. Plus I have those I really want to get my revenge on and it seems there's a mighty long list of them."
"So you're planning on doing what?"
"The way I see it is that either I'm going to join in on one side of this war, continue to play both sides or pull out altogether and watch from a safe distance as you tear each other to pieces.
"Playing both sides, isn't that kinda risky?"
"I don't plan to get caught."
"What about the future? You could accidentally change it!"
"Oh, Lorne said that probably wouldn't happen as long as I was careful and I doubt either side will mind too much as long as I leave chaos, mayhem, panic and disorder in my wake for the other side."
"Still doesn't solve any of your problems," Giles said, leaning back into the worn leather of his chair.
"Yeah, well everyone I ask seems to be turning up a fat load of nothing so what can I expect?"
"What are you going to do? You can't stay in my office much longer. I'm going have to repair the wall and then get a lecture from one of my vaunted superiors about punctuality for the meeting I was supposed to be attending half an hour ago."
"I'd say I was sorry but I would be lying. But I'll take the hint and leave," Harry said, standing up, "Send me anything you can find about my little time-travel predicament by owl. I'll tell you what alias I'll be going under when I actually acquire one. Tell Travers anything and I'll personally resurrect Egyhon to come and get you!"
Giles just nodded, knowing he'd keep his word about resurrecting the demon and so Harry covered himself in the cloak and snuck out of the Council building.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
Now Harry had another problem, he was facing an as of yet unexplained extended stay in the past with no identity, no history, no money and no lodgings. Hardly the ideal situation.
Considering that Harry Potter didn't exist yet in this time, Harry would undoubtedly have to take some rather unorthodox methods of acquiring funds, and in turn, a life. Especially since, he knew that even if he announced his presence to the Council, it wouldn't give him a penny. More like a one way trip to heaven or hell. Whichever would have him anyway and wherever dead slayers ended up.
A slow smile crossed his face as his poor, overtaxed brain come up with a somewhat decent, and deeply satisfying, plan. Sometimes his resemblance to the Dark Lord was a curse, but in this case, it was going to be a blast…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
Grishnak, the chief Goblin on duty at Gringotts, nearly had a heart attack when a black cloaked figure that radiated power and malevolence, waltzed into the bank looking for all the world as though he owned it. His features couldn't be made out properly due to the concealing hood, but the slitted crimson eyes burning holes into all they looked at, were a very good confirmation of the figure's identity.
The rest of the Goblins on duty stared, and then the instinct for self-preservation took over as they dived under their counters and tables. After grabbing the money and jewels to take with them of course.
Unfortunately Grishnak didn't have that privilege and so was forced to stand there in abject horror, quaking visibly while trying – and not doing a very good job of it – to find any of his superiors to come and take over then handling of the now approaching wizard. It didn't even occur to him to send for security, instigating duels in front of customers was just so bad for business. Plus the cost of repairing the damage just wasn't worthwhile. The Dark Lord was just so testy when he felt he was being slighted.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to a stop in front of him and in an elegant motion, laid a sheet of thick parchment on the counter before the terrified Goblin. "I want this request fulfilled immediately," he hissed in sibilant tones.
Grishnak nodded dumbly, glad that he wasn't going to be killed for the moment. He hated dealing with dark wizards; they were just too inclined to curse you whenever the whim took them. Taking the parchment with trembling hands, he could literally feel the stares of a dozen sets of fellow Goblins observing his every move from their little hiding places.
Giving the parchment a cursory glance, he gave a low bow, "Of course good sir," he answered politely. "This will only be ten minutes at most, sir, would you care to take a seat while I fetch it sir?"
Ruby red eyes narrowed and the Dark Lord waved dismissively, "Just get on with it. I don't have all day to wait on your incompetence."
Grishnak bowed again and scurried away, thanking all the gods he knew for sparing his life.
Returning a few minutes later, he handed the small leather pouch to the Dark Lord, not daring to look him in the eye, and didn't dare stop holding his breath until the Terror himself had left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
Now the creation of an identity was a very tricky business. Especially in the wizarding world. After all, wizards tended to pride themselves on their bloodlines and he, at the moment, couldn't lay claim to any. With the Dark Lord's view of muggles, it wouldn't be safe to pose as muggle-born or even half-blood if he was sorted into Slytherin, like he expected he would be. But most purebloods were well known, well documented and in most cases – the Weasleys being the exception – very rich.
So not only did he have to forge the necessary documents, he also had to forge the necessary pedigree to pass Ministry muster. It wouldn't do much good if he got himself killed before he could get back to his time and he most certainly couldn't kill half the people he wanted to, (Dumbledore, Voldemort, Angelus etc) so he had to just blend in. But by Merlin, there was no way that he was going to end up in Gryffindor again. And most certainly not Hufflepuff. At this stage, he felt quite inclined to go with the sorting hat and go to Slytherin. But he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to make himself legally exist, come up with a plausible excuse for no one having seen him for sixteen years and enrol back into Hogwarts where he could see what the dear old Dark Lord was up to and have fun annoying Dumbledore in every way possible.
But first things first, he needed a name to work with. And for that he would have to do some serious research. So off to the Ministry of Magic vault of records it was.
*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*
The vault of records, while huge, was rather unimpressive due to the disorderly layout and piles of dust that covered nearly everything inside it. Since spells to automatically record the traditional births, deaths, marriages and property statuses were invented, the need for someone to work down there had become non-existent. Considering most families would make their lawyers slog through their paperwork instead of them, Harry was probably the first visitor here in years.
The only question now was where was he supposed to start?
Casting a quick cleaning charm so he wouldn't choke on the many clouds of dust, he cast an adapted version of the 'point me' spell that showed direction. It led him over to the section he wanted; the deceased.
It took him hours but finally he had a few viable matches laid out in front of him. With the ongoing battle between Voldemort's ever increasing followers and the growing brutality of the aurors, many families had had the misfortune to get caught in the crossfire.
And when that happened, your life expectancy shortened to about a second.
Now this was where Harry had to be careful. His plan was to assume the identity of one of these deceased people, preferably a relatively reclusive family. If he picked a baby or toddler to impersonate, he could always claim that he'd been raised by relatives in the Americas or something like that. It was a rather gruesome task wading through the piles of paperwork and Harry had to mull over the fact that how many vampires had been recorded as deceased in these very files.
The family that seemed his best option was French but a British witch had married the only heir in 1966. That family had had a son on August 29th, 1968. That family had been killed in a raid by aurors scarcely three months later. Both adults had done nothing wrong, but had been raided for signs of Dark Arts involvement, just like every other pureblood family at that time. The Ministry realising that was where the rising dark views were gathering the most support and backing. The child's crib, according to the report, had been hit with a stray incendio charm and had gone up in flames. The parents had been duelling for their lives downstairs and the auror who had cast the awry spell had been checking the rooms for anyone else. He hadn't realised his mistake until afterwards, when the aurors rechecked every room for Dark Arts artefacts. The child had been presumed dead and the auror responsible hadn't even received a reprimand, citing it as accidental and a sign of negligence on behalf of the parents.
What times they were living in, Harry wondered, Voldemort hadn't even been a factor back then and still the Ministry had allowed public fear and paranoia to justify their own crimes.
But what made that family perfect for his current needs was that they had had no living relatives in Europe at least and so there would be no one to challenge a claim. He could claim that the parents had portkeyed out their defenceless son and that he hadn't been of sufficient age to return and claim what was rightfully his until now. Plus it would only highlight what had been done by their precious aurors before there had ever been a need for such measures, if there would ever be a need to justify such measures.
More importantly the family's pureblood status and ample reason to be frightfully angry and vengeful towards the Ministry would help him fit into the tightly knit Slytherin hierarchy in Hogwarts and perhaps even be privy to some of the Dark Lord's machinations and plans. All of which could only help him when he returned to his own time and could get his own little dose of revenge on the snake-faced wannabe conqueror of the world.
There was only the matter of several layers of disguising and masking spells on his rather infamous, (or was it would be infamous?) scar and he felt secure enough to not be confused with the future 'Boy-Who-Lived'.
And so it was that Seth De Lancre became a living entity once more, in the form of one Harry James Potter.
~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~**~**~
It took him days of paperwork and interviews at the Ministry of Magic before he had them convinced. And by that time he could recite his fabricated tale in his sleep.
He was Seth De Lancre, sixteen years old at the end of August and the only remaining member of the De Lancre family. His parents, Andre and Darina De Lancre, during the unprovoked raid, had portkeyed him out to a cousin of his mother's, who lived in America but who had passed away in June and he, nearly of age, had returned to England to claim the portion of his estate that was there, along with his father's estate in France. Yes, he planned to enrol in Hogwarts. No, he hadn't gone to a wizarding school. Yes, he wanted an exemption from the under-age wizardry laws. His mother's cousin Therese Porter, (another person he'd had to forge documents for) had been a retired teacher and had home schooled him, being a rather old-fashioned witch and disapproving of the rather muggle-orientated courses that had been introduced in the American schools of magic. No, he wasn't planning on pressing charges against the Ministry.
That they had been very concerned about, but he'd kept close-lipped about it, only saying that he had no wish to bring back bad memories. The unspoken 'yet' had been picked up on and surprisingly enough the idiots and sycophants that made up the Ministry were quite co-operative.
Mentally he sneered at them, but on the other hand, it did save him an awful lot of hassle. Pentheus Binsted, the current Minister of Magic, was far more focused on trying to get rid of dark wizards than he was on any other part of the Ministry, so the other department heads could pretty much do as they liked.
So that was the main reason that only six days after he had shown up with his documents, (expertly forged of course – it paid to have contacts in the world of things going bump in the night. Not to mention Giles.) he was officially recognised as the De Lancre heir and his lands and moneys restored to him.
He now had a manor in the Loire Valley in France, another in England and a summer villa in Italy. And apparently that wasn't considered anything unusual, several homes being the norm with some of the wizarding world. It really made him wonder about the Potter estate, one that he'd never been allowed seek information about, and considering that James Potter had been old blood; it was entirely likely that he had had enough wealth and a house to live in which meant he could have supported himself, away from the horrible Dursleys. Yet another thing to get back at Dumbledore for.
Choosing to establish his home in England as he would be enrolling at Hogwarts – hopefully – he apparated to the manor that would be his home for however long he was doomed to stay trapped in this time.
~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~**~**~*
The De Lancre Manor was built a grand, rambling estate called Druid's Glen, whose grounds stretched on for some miles and had Harry's jaw firmly planted on the ground.
One word summed it up. Wow.
He could almost forgive Lucius Malfoy for his arrogance, if Malfoy Manor was anything like what he was looking at now.
The manor looked more like a small castle but after walking up to the front door, he could still see evidence of what had happened to its former inhabitants. The wards were ruptured and almost non-existent, the front doors hung awkwardly from their hinges and the many scorch marks that signified a duel stretched all the way from the entrance, through the large foyer and all the way up the stairs.
It was remarkably free of dust, probably due to anti-dust spells but he couldn't be certain. How in the name of Merlin was he going to manage this? The entire Dursley house could fit into the foyer, cleaning up the entire manor would be a chore he couldn't manage alone even if he had all year to do it.
A few repairing charms could fix the doors and the marks on the walls and floors but he needed help. He could almost hear Hermione lecturing about the rights of House Elves as he thought it. But then again, why should he care about her anymore? Still, he'd have to try and find a House Elf that would be willing to allow him to pay them. He grimaced slightly; the only one that had ever fit that description was Dobby, who was unavailable and bound to the Malfoys.
Oh well, he could deal with the trivial stuff later. Now it was time to turn to the important stuff, like the wards for example.
They had to be built, erected and set and then keyed to himself. A hard task for any wizard to do, but when one had the misfortune of making enemies as quickly as he did… well, they had to work some, or a lot of, extra specifications into the design.
By the time he was finished, his wards were rainbow coloured and intricately woven, to any who had the eyes to see it, and they were laden with lots of nasty little curses and hexes that he'd picked up from their not so welcome use on him. No one was going to get into his house without an invitation.
Not unless they wanted to be stuck in St Mungos for the rest of their lives at least.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
By noon the next day, he had looked through the Hogwarts prospectus and had sent an owl from the nearest post office, stating his intention to enrol as a sixth year transfer student. Two hours later, while he was debating over subject choices, a barn owl with the Hogwarts crest flew in and dropped a letter on the table.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore.
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr De Lancre,
We are pleased to inform you that your application has been reviewed and an interview arranged with the headmaster and myself in four days time at 1p.m. We look forward to meeting you.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Well not much had changed on that front, Harry mused, despising the fact that he'd have to be polite to Dumbledore. Well, he'd manage and if he was lucky, he just might be able to fool the old coot into thinking he was shy and harmless.
That thought and his ensuing plans only brought a smile to his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
Sighing, Harry rubbed his eyes and laid down the Hogwarts prospectus. There were a lot of courses available at NEWT level that hadn't been in existence in this time. Apparently the reason was that the Ministry was always looking for more aurors and so a tougher curriculum was brought in, with the intention to help the students learn to defend themselves in times of war, and let's not forget that it knocked a year off the auror training program. So he had a lot of choices.
Classes he would have loved to have in his time could be his now, could help him learn everything he needed to know when combined with his extracurricular studies. Boy would future Dumbledore and Voldemort have a surprise. He frowned, at the moment they were both probably doing their own respective dances of joy. He was out of their hair for now but if he had anything to say about it, he'd be back. And when he was, then nothing was going to save them.
If he was cunning enough, he could lay the groundwork for their respective falls from power while he was here. He wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. While it would undoubtedly be fun manipulating people, the staggering amount of carefully laid plans that he would to hatch daunted him ever so slightly. But he'd cope, he always did.
His potential classes went like this: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Herbology were the core classes at NEWT level. After them, you could pick six classes to supplement them, which were: - Battle and Defensive magic, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Warding classes, Medi-healing, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, Wandless Self-Defence, Magical Theory, Animagus classes, and Duelling class.
Oh the possibilities…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
After taking a luxurious shower, Harry came to the conclusion that he needed to do some serious shopping. He had most of his stuff with him; thank Merlin, having been planning to leave Hogwarts after the ball. Not in the manner he had though.
Some of his clothes had survived the trip but they had been in the right pocket of his robes, which had been hit some spell and now the pocket was a ragged, gaping hole. He needed a whole new set of clothes, including some school robes, some things for the house, get a new broom, a secondary wand, a familiar, some books to help him with his predicament, some new potion supplies and he needed to hire a House Elf.
He thought it was a rather extensive list.
And there was only one place he could get everything he needed: Diagon Alley.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
By now it was mid-August and the Hogwarts letters had gone out so Diagon Alley was crowded with Hogwarts students and their parents, as well as the normal alley occupants.
His first stop was at Madam Malkin's, who seemed delighted at his large order and was too curious for his tastes when she enquired about his request for the Hogwarts school robes, without a house crest. When she heard he was transferring, she'd been very eager to ask questions about where he'd come from and about his British accent but she was eventually deterred by Harry's stony silence.
All her chatter didn't stop Harry from feeling as though he was being watched. And glancing at the other end of the store he saw a boy getting fitted for his Hogwarts robes too. He had light brown hair and alert blue eyes but Harry made no move to start a conversation with him, remembering all too clearly his first encounter with Draco Malfoy.
As soon as he was able, he escaped into the alley, dreading when he'd have to go back there to pick up his order. Now that he had his clothes on order, he needed to attend to what was, undoubtedly, the most important business he had in Diagon Alley; the purchase of a second wand.
As his wand had its rather… unique and bothersome reaction and with his feather coming from Fawkes, he couldn't chance another incident like in his fourth year, ergo he needed a second wand for him to use in this time.
He sincerely hoped that this new wand wouldn't turn out to be 'curious' too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*
If Harry was any accurate judge, Ollivander's hadn't changed since it opened in 382 b.c. And it was just as covered in dust and long, thin boxes as it had been when he had first entered the shop at age eleven.
The bell clanged as he opened the door and before long, Ollivander's moon pale eyes appeared from the deep recesses of the shop. The man blinked a couple of times and then approached the counter at a snail's pace.
"You are here for a wand I presume?"
"My first wand was broken by accident and couldn't be repaired."
"A most unfortunate accident." Ollivander said slowly, studying Harry carefully, making the young wizard feel like he was under a microscope. "Ah, young sir," Ollivander said at last, after a lengthy silence, "I must admit I had not expected you. 'Tis a most unusual occurrence that. I had thought I knew of nearly all who would come to me in search of a wand. And yet I had not reckoned on you."
"My name is Seth De Lancre. I was raised in the Americas." Harry replied, hoping that he wouldn't get an interrogation. The nearest alternative wandmaker was Gregoravitch in Bulgaria and that was a long way away and he didn't speak Bulgarian. "Can you accommodate me?"
Ollivander shot him another long look, before reaching into the stacks of boxes behind him.
"Which is your wand arm?"
"My right," Harry answered.
Ollivander didn't reply, instead he darted between the rows of tall shelving like a firefly and returned a few minutes later with a stack of boxes piled in his arms. He carefully unwrapped the packaging in the first box and took out the wand, handing it to Harry, "Here, try this one. Nine and a half inches, flexible, Dragon heartstring and willow."
Harry obligingly gave it a swish but felt none of the rush of warmth that had signalled his ownership of his other wand.
Ollivander snatched it out of his hand in an instant and had another to replace it just as quickly, "Eleven inches, springy, holly and unicorn hair," he said as Harry dutifully waved it, feeling just as foolish as he had when he'd done it as a first year. In fact, he thought, eyeing the wand severely, hadn't he tried out this very wand then… in the future… oh whatever! He sincerely hoped that it wouldn't take as long as it had then.
Ollivander again snatched back the wand and soon Harry found himself waving and swishing a huge pile of wands, often the shopkeeper went so fast that Harry could barely hear their descriptions.
"Here, ebony and phoenix feather, eight inches, inflexible. No! No good… Oak and veela hair, thirteen inches… no, not that one…" and it went on in this vein for a good twenty minutes before Harry finally found what he had been looking for.
The old wizard handed him the box and he carefully picked up the wand inside. Immediately some green and gold sparks flew from the tip and Harry felt that much searched for rush of warmth run up his arm.
"Ten and a half inches, pliable, Rosewood and a tail-hair from a black unicorn, most rare…" Ollivander elaborated, "Black unicorns are so very hard to get a hold of nowadays." He looked at Harry again, seeming to be re-evaluating his opinions on the young boy, "An unusual combination…" Ollivander mused. "Perhaps you should have a go at a spell?"
Harry raised an eyebrow and shot the man an incredulous look, "And what about the decree for the restriction of underage wizardry?" he asked, not mentioning his own little exemption from said decree.
"You're surrounded by wands and this shop has been shielded from the Ministry otherwise they'd be here on a permanent basis, do you know how many first years perform accidental magic with their wands? Nearly all unfortunately. I've lost so many vases that way…"
Harry mentally shrugged and then decided to give it a go. Spinning around, he pointed it at one of the boxes that lay on the counter and brought it swishing down while saying, "Wingardium Leviosa." The box floated for a moment before Harry released the charm. "It's perfect Mr Ollivander. Thank you."
After paying the wandmaker, Harry hurried out of the shop, strapping his secondary wand to a holster on the inside of his arm, while he felt the reassuring warmth of his first and primary wand emanating from its position on a holster on his hip, hidden by concealing charms. Now that he had that sorted out, it was time to turn his attention to more trivial matters.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*
Harry wandered through the Magical Menagerie, feeling like he was a kid in a candy store. He had need for an animal companion of a sort, seeing as he was nearly bereft of friends in this time. Plus the fact that usually, animals tended to be more loyal than humans, and less likely to develop the urge to take over the world, unlike some he could mention.
He didn't necessarily want a replacement for Hedwig, who had always served him faithfully, but he needed a familiar in this time too. And while the Slytherin part of him wanted a snake or serpent of some sort, the logical part of his brain (aka the bit interested in his continued existence) pointed out that advertising his status as a Parselmouth in an era where Voldemort was beating back the so called 'good guys' and was renowned for being the only Parselmouth of the time wouldn't be a good thing. So that meant he had to choose a somewhat safer option.
He didn't really want an owl; he would have Hedwig when he returned home and the last time he'd gotten Hedwig miffed, she'd nipped his cheek and refused to carry any letters for a week. Just puffing up her feathers and looking at him sternly from her yellow eyes.
So that left cat, rat or toad. Now the toad didn't appeal and he hated rats with a passion since the Peter Pettigrew incident. Since then he'd always felt the urge to curse them senseless. Which left him with the cat option.
But he was a bit of cat himself, so that wasn't ideal either.
Browsing through the rather cramped shop, he finally found something that caught his attention. Preening itself in its cage was a kneazle. The kneazle was a small, cat-like creature with black and white speckled fur, big ears and a tale that resembled a lion. But this one was smaller than normal, obviously only a kitten.
It was also staring at him.
Harry firmly decided that this was the pet he'd choose. Now if he could just get around the pesky problem of the special licence required to own one.
Surprisingly enough the clerk was very helpful, informing him that it was up to the pet storeowner's discretion when it came to issuing a licence. And the storeowner had no problem apparently with issuing a licence to a pureblood, (boy had the Ministry grapevine moved fast!) who, it was generally thought, would have little to no contact with Muggles so the chances of a Muggle seeing the (strange to their eyes) kneazle were nearly non existent.
And so within half an hour, Harry was the proud owner of the kneazle he had taken a liking to and it seemed a case of mutual liking when the as of yet nameless kneazle kitten curled against him and purred loudly. Apparently Harry had gotten his (for it was a male kitten) seal of approval.
And so it was that a very pleased and not alone Harry left the Magical Menagerie.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*
After stopping at a branch of the WEA (Wizarding Employment Agency), an organisation that he'd never heard of before, he, almost helplessly lost in the storm of bureaucracy, just abruptly stopped the cheerfully babbling plump witch who was supposed to be listening to him, not the other way round and bluntly demanded that she take his request, process it, and come back to him with something suitable before he hexed her with a silencing spell.
Needless to say she was highly offended but did as she was told as she deliberately flounced off.
Returning five minutes later, she dropped several files on her desk, "Well Mr De Lancre, with the specifications on your manor you'll need two House Elves. I have some very good workers on the books that you may take a look at, if that is satisfactory of course," she said, sneering out the last bit.
"Which ones would be willing to be free, with clothes, and would be willing to be paid for the work they do?"
The witch seemed shocked, "Pay a House Elf?!" she exclaimed, "Are you mad?!"
"Just eccentric I'm afraid now I won't have it any other way. Can you fulfil my requirements or should I go elsewhere?" he said coldly, not wanting to spend any more time that necessary on this highly annoying woman.
It took quite a bit of cajoling and endurance of horrified stares before he got two House Elves to agree to come work for him. A slightly hyperactive elf called Zippy, who proudly wore his new tea towel and another, more subdued one called Pippy. Apparently the two were related or something of the sort. Harry hadn't pursued that line of questioning, not wanting to know any of the details of House Elf procreation.
As he still had work to do in Diagon Alley he keyed the two to the wards and apparated them to Druid's Glen, along with his new and still nameless kitten, where they could familiarise themselves with the layout. They definitely seemed cheerful enough, almost bouncing off the walls and reminding him of some of Dobby's antics when he showed them into their new bedrooms near the kitchen. Sure they would be all right, Harry apparated back to Diagon Alley to finish his shopping.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*
A stack of books including An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed, Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions, A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, Hogwarts, A History, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, Modern Magical History, Moste Potente Potions, Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, Powers You Never Knew You Had and What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up, Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts – the Grindelwald Era, A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry, and An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms tottered unsteadily in his arms as he carried them towards the counter.
He really wished Flourish and Blotts' version of security tags wasn't anti-magic wards on the books which were removed when you paid for them. He may be a slayer and very strong, but that didn't stop the pile from shaking and wobbling most threateningly. He realised on his senses to guide him along as he made his way across the shop, since his vision was somewhat or more like almost completely, obscured thanks to the tall pile. And so it was that when he sensed an impending collision it was too late.
Two speeding bodies ploughed into him and his precarious hold on the stack of books gave and he, and the books went crashing to the floor with a tremendous heap.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*
His temper stirring angrily, he shoved 'Most Potente Potions' from its current position on his face and stood up, the books shifting and falling off him as he rose.
Moving to glare, and hopefully hex into a million pieces, at his attacker, he took a good look and froze.
It couldn't be. But it undeniably was. Lanky and stocky frames respectively, vibrant red hair, freckles and slightly shabby robes. They couldn't be anything but Weasleys. Bill and Charlie Weasley to be precise. Talk about a brain freeze.
He'd never seen these two as anything but grown men but here they were, about nine to eleven years old, just after smashing into him. It didn't get any more in your face than that.
The two looked horrified and abashed at being the cause of an accident and Bill, the elder, seemed to be trying to think up a suitable explanation.
A shrill, angry voice sounded through the back-to-school crowd, "Bill! Charlie! Where have you got to?" he heard the voice of Molly Weasley shout and saw as the two redheaded boys adopted identical panicked expressions in response to their mother's call.
The plump redheaded and heavily pregnant matriarch of the Weasley family shoved her way through the crowd, followed by another small redheaded toddler was clutching her hand, who Harry knew had to be Percy. She stopped in abrupt horror as she noticed a dark-haired young man, surrounded by a horde of books scattered all over the floor glaring at her two eldest and redfaced sons.
"Bill and Charlie Weasley!" Molly exclaimed, "What have you done now?" The two boys looked down at their shoes.
Harry decided to diffuse the situation, "We had a bit of a collision I'm afraid, a complete accident." Molly's face was starting to gain that look it usually got just before she started lecturing and judging by the groans from Bill and Charlie they recognised it too. "And I'll just be going now," Harry said hurriedly, really not wanting to get into the middle of Weasley family politics. He'd had enough of that with Ron.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*
Going down Knockturn Alley had been a mistake, Harry admitted. A big mistake. With his luck, he shouldn't have tempted fate.
Because fate delivered. With all sorts of extra bonuses free. Wasn't that nice of it? Before he had sensed them coming, (his senses being dampened by the high quality wards on said 'them').
Apparently Harry had just been chosen as the main course for some vamp's nightly gorge. Slamming his elbow into the vamp's gut, he flipped him over his shoulder and then kicked out a leg to sweep the feet out from under the other two vampires, both females.
Harry pushed himself off the ground in a fluid motion and got a good look at his attackers…
No, no it couldn't be. Life just couldn't be so cruel. But it was.
Harry looked at Darla, Drusilla and Spike, Sire, Childe and Grandchilde of that ultimate annoyance Angelus respectively. Just what was it with his luck? Nobody's could be this bad! "What's this? A family reunion? Oh lucky me!" he sneered.
The three Master Vampires eyed their prospective meal warily, they obviously hadn't expected resistance. Harry pulled out his wand, "Listen here, go find some other meal some place that's not here or else it'll be a few nice fireball charms."
"You don't expect us to just walk away do you?" Darla said with a slow, smug smile. "There's three of us and only one of you." Great, thought Harry, she has to pick this day to play predator.
To everyone's shock, it was Drusilla who vetoed the tasty looking morsel. "No, no, we shall not eat him," she said, swaying on her feet, like she was moving to music only she could here. Which she probably was. "The kitten's got tainted blood. 'twill only made us sick."
"What on earth are you muttering about luv?" Spike asked, sounding slightly peeved. "We do have reputations to think about you know."
"The boy must live. For a while. The stars say so," Drusilla said, eyeing Harry, "He's here to do some wicked wicked things and we shall let him." This statement confused everybody, including Harry, but then again he'd never claimed to understand the crazy vampiress.
He couldn't kill them now so that meant his least favourite option; retreat. "Well, I'll just be seeing you around. Though if you're smart," Harry warned, "You won't come near me again." They didn't stop him as he walked away and when he was at the entrance to the small alley he heard the insane vampiress call out to him.
"And kitten?"
"Yes?" he answered without slowing down or turning around.
"Death is watching you."
Great! Just what he needed! Another mass murderer out for his blood! Harry fumed as the meaning registered, and he quietly stormed through Knockturn Alley.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
A/N: Well, what do you think? By the way ENCOURAGEMENT WORKS! Keep it up!
* Bon Jovi's song 'Shot Through the Heart' was actually released in 1984.
** Whistler is a demon who works for the Powers That Be, sent down to Earth to even the score between Good and Evil and who has horrendous fashion sense.
*** Quentin Travers is the much despised Head of the Watchers' Council. He doesn't like Slayers who think for themselves and in the canon Buffy series, would probably enjoy dancing on her grave. In my fic, Travers hates Harry as well.