Unbound Future
By: Kibaikasu
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the characters you don't see in the books. Everything else is property of J.K. Rowling and her affiliates.
Chapter 0l: Consequences
The morning light penetrated the window of the Fountain Blue Hilton resort, one of the most expensive hotel resorts in all of Miami Beach, Florida. It was another hot day, typical Floridian weather with some dark clouds in the skies - a sign that it might rain sometime during the day. Not that that's new, it always rains in South Florida. Even during the dry season there seems to be a slight drizzle.
However, that's getting off topic. You see, all these things are just some of the things that I've noticed ever since I ran away. Now, you might ask me, 'Why did you run away? What was your reason?' Well bloody hell, how do you expect me to answer that when you don't even know who I am?! See, I knew from the moment that I started that I was forgetting something. Very well, let me start off with what every other regular human does: a name. My name is Harry James Potter. Yes nitwit, your eyes aren't deceiving you, it's the Bloody Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die behind the pen and paper (or in others cases, quill and parchment).
Now, you must be really confused, eh? No? Then re-read the beginning of the last paragraph and then you will be caught up. Yes, I ran away from my world, a world of which took up my late childhood and most off my teenage years. A world which overtook my children the minute they were born into this world. Yes, I do have children, so to those fanatic Harry Potter followers hoping to bear my child, you're just a tad bit too late there. It's actually because of them that I write this, for the benefit of those who were most affected by my disappearance, and I won't say no names at this point; you know who you are.
Let me start off about eighteen years ago. It was the summer after my sixth year. I had done the impossible - I (with Dumb-as-a-Door's - also known as Dumbledore help) defeated the all powerful He-Who's Name-Must -Be-Hyphened (also known as Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Jerk-off, and whatever other name applies). Off course it wasn't easy. I'll be honest, as dumb as Dumbledore may seem to be, he's pretty powerful for being almost 200 years old. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead. In the chance that I would have beaten him on my own, I'd most probably have left without my left arm.
The battle itself was difficult, but only because ol' Voldie had already gone through so many dark rituals that he hardly seemed alive, much less human. Most of those rituals expanded his magical reserves. Had it not been for those, Voldemort would only be perhaps at an Unspeakables' level (which is pretty powerful in its own right, but remember who we're talking about here). With the rituals enacted though, he reached a level just beyond that off Dumbledore's, a level which can only otherwise be reached with age and experience.
How did we beat him? A rather interesting question with an equally interesting answer. I guess it started when I was born. Some time before I was born, a prophecy was given by Hogwarts Divinations Professor Sybil Trelawney, and 'it went a little something like this', as the muggles like to say: The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches... Born to those who thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…
Pretty neat, eh? My very own prophecy... you can probably guess that I was rather upset when Dumbledore dropped that particular bomb on me. I believe the walls to the headmasters office still bares some of the scars from the temper tantrum that I formed in their, and in my humble opinion, he got off lucky with just that, especially considering the circumstances in which he delivered that message (which is a completely different story better left for another day. Those who know what I'm talking about are either acquaintances of mine or close friends. You know who you are.) That night I lost my trust in the old coot and it took a year of thought, training, and a free-for-all with a homicidal maniac to gain back just a bit of the implicit trust I once had for him in my early Hogwarts years.
After the war, I tried to heal. I spent time with my friends and with those whom I considered family, but no matter what I did, the scars that those times of war never seemed to heal. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I packed my muggle possessions, I sent all my wizarding stuff minus my wand to Hermione in my shrunken trunk along with Hedwig, telling her to stay with Hermione, and I left. The last contact that I've had with the wizarding world was that very day in Gringotts to exchange half my fortune into muggle currency, and we're talking about a lot of money, seeing as I control the Black and Potter fortunes, which are quite extensive in their own rights.
After that is when I took action. I started booking flights like crazy, wanting nothing more than to go see the world. Over the next year I traveled, seeing the marvels that man had to offer: Rome, Paris Moscow, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Australia, Brazil, the Amazon Rain Forest, the Bahamas, and finally, Miami, Florida in the United States of America, and it was here that my life changed forever.
During the day, I would try to keep busy by doing something fun or exiting. During the night, I'd crack open whatever was stronger than water at the time and drink myself into a bloody stupor, my fake muggle ID working its wonders on me. It was always like this no matter where I went, and that night was no different. I was at Club Space on South Beach that night, on what I thought was my twelfth shot of Johnny Walker Blue Label, when a girl waked up and sat down beside me. Apparently she and her friends had been studying me for some time that night and decided to turn bold, and introduced herself as Jessica. I told her I didn't mind the company, and offered her a drink after a brief introduction. An hour later and we were drunk off our arses and raving on the dance floor. That's up to where our memories allow us to go back, because everything after that is a blur of imaged and sounds. But that's not important, what is the consequences of that night.
Now, what do I mean by that? Well, the following morning I woke up with Jessica next to e, our clothes all over the hotel room. Now most guys wouldn't mind waking up like that at all, especially if the girl is, as they say, 'hot,' and hot she was, with long auburn red hair and curvatious to boot. Me, however, I was in a state of panic. Here I was, in bed with a strange woman, with only fragmented pieces of memory from the night before and I couldn't even remember whether or not we used protection or not. Apparently we hadn't, seeing as I saw no used condom anywhere. She woke up in a similar state of panic, mumbling something about it being 'her time' and what not. We talked about what we should do in the event that she became pregnant. She didn't consider abortion an option, but she didn't want to be a mother either. We discussed it at great length, and finally came to an agreement: that in the event that she did become pregnant, I would be the one to take the baby in, with full custody over him or her. As it turned out, she did become pregnant, though not with a him or her, but with both.
That's right, the day I took her for her sonogram was the day I found out would be the proud father of twins. I think that it wouldn't be too far from the truth to say I was in shock. Imagine me, a 17 year old, already a war veteran, and now a father of two. Quite the shock to the system. As promised, I stuck it out with Jessica for the length of her pregnancy before she went into labor two months early. I really wasn't surprised, since I read on the subject and found that it was a common occurrence for twins to be born prematurely. What I did not expect was what happened to Jessica. Apparently the doctor treating her was new, fresh out of school and not very experienced at all. He overlooked some internal bleeding within the lining of her uterus. By the time it was found out, it had already become infected. She died a barren woman four days later, only living long enough to find out the names I had chosen for my children: Lillian Molly Potter and James Sirius Potter.
I provide the funds for her family for a decent funeral, as well as funds for a renowned lawyer to sue the doctor and hospital for medical malpractice. Needless to say, that doctor won't be practicing medicine for a long time to come. As for the children, Jessica's family wanted nothing to do with them. I had expected this when I had met them the week we found out Jessica was with child. And as for me, I was back to square one, only this time, I had a purpose. I had my children. I became a United States citizen after taking the naturalization exam, and then I settled down in Miami, buying a decent 3 bedroom/3 bathroom condo in the Kendal region there. I bought two cars, a Honda Passport, for me and the twins, and a Honda S-2000 for myself. With everything paid off in full of course. Being in control of two family fortunes can be beneficial that way.
Time passed, and I raised them as best I could. It was difficult during the first few years, as I haven't had any prior experience with babies, but I learned. From diapers to potty training, weaning to teething and all the experiences of being a new parent came with. I gave them everything that was denied to me growing up - a good childhood, full of love and laughter. Of course, money was never an issue, since just one of my family fortunes was enough for the three of us to live off of and not work, but I also never spoiled them. Sure, I treated them every now and then, what good parent doesn't? But for the most part, they knew if the wanted something from me, they had to show me that they deserved it.
I also taught them the morals and virtues that I was forced to develop on my own: loyalty, trust, strength of mind and spirit, honesty, bravery, but the most important one of all, I have to say was the most fun to teach: the virtue that is more commonly known as Quidditch.
Yes, by the time they were eight years old I was teaching them the fundamentals of flying and the wizarding sport. I wanted to get them ready, for I knew they had magical talents as well, and wanted them to be schooled in the sport that became my favorite pastime at Hogwarts. The two were actually good at every position available, which was unheard of, at least to me. They had strength, endurance, accuracy, and were nimble, with just the perfect build for whichever of the four positions, though they seemed to favor the beater and chaser positions.
Because of their love of sports, they both grew up to be strong, athletic, and in my Lily's case, slightly tomboy-ish. But they were my little ones all the same, and they made me proud all the same. Eventually, their love for Quidditch got to the point to where we moved out of our condo in Kendal for one in Homestead, quite a ways away from the city by muggle means, but I didn't mind. The peace and quiet did us good, though I had to cast some pretty powerful bug repellant charms, cause the flies were near intolerable, though we quickly got accustomed to them later on.
Before I knew it, their eleventh birthday came around, and they received the owl I was dreading - an invitation to Salem Institute of Magic and Sorcery. When I saw those letters it nearly broke me down. When my kids asked me what was wrong, I started to tell them about my own days as a magical student. Of course they knew that I was a wizard, and that I studied magic in a foreign school before dropping out and leaving the wizarding world behind. Now I told them why. I told them about the war, Voldemort, and the nightmares that still plague my mind if I go to sleep without my Occlumency shields up.
I also told them of the good times, and the mischief that I got myself into. They looked on in wonder as I showed them my Animagus form, a black panther, which I learnt and mastered in my sixth year, about a month before the final battle. I told them that if they wanted to, they can become one too, seeing as I had a lot of the potion used to identify your form left over and stored in my international Gringotts account along with the rest of my wizarding possetions, minus my wand, which I always kept with me. I spent the rest of that summer teaching them fun spells, buying school supplies, and gave them the promise that if they did well that year I'd allow them to take the Animagus potion. Yes, I knew that it was illegal, and especially at their age, but what can I say, I had moments when I was even more paranoid than ol' Mad Eye was. Then, the day finally came - I would be seeing them off to school for the first time.
That day, when we went to the portkey station at concourse K at Miami International Airport was one of the most proud moments of my life. I remember looking back on what had led us to that moment, and thought to myself, 'If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a minute of it.' And it's true. As horrible as my life had been, everything had led him to James and Lily. I'm sure that if it hadn't been for them, I would have ended up destroying myself in my depression.
As days turned into weeks, months, and eventually years, their magical education progressed. I kept my promise to my 'Terror Twins' as they had been dubbed at school, and allowed them the Animagus potion, explaining to them that I expected them to use their gift responsibly and to be discreet about it. My Lily turns into a near replica of my old owl Hedwig, and James is, oddly enough, a shaggy black dog. Imagine my surprise to see he had inherited my late godfather's Animagus form. To say I was shocked is an understatement. It seems as though the Potter line has a knack for producing powerful witches and wizards with rare talents.
The school loves them, and not because of their relation to me. Yes, indeed it seems that my fame does not follow me outside European borders. They made Salem's Quidditch team, dubbed the Salem Shades, as two of the best beaters to ever pick up a beaters club on the campus. Yes, that includes Lily as well as James, and let me tell you as pretty as she is, she's still a tomboy, and packs quite a punch and kick. I'm pretty sure I've had my arse bruised by her viciousness more than once.
And so, now that you have been caught up with our past, here is where our story begins. For the, it's their first step towards discovery, but for me, it's the first step for healing. This is our story. The story of our unbound future.
A/N - Hello to you all, its Kibai here! After finally dealing with issues on my end here (both financial and personal) I have made my return. I know I have several incomplete stories to finish (I know that fans of my fic The Fallen are waiting in anticipation for the next chapter, and I apologize profoundly from the bottom of my heart), but I felt that if I wanted to make a comeback I had to start fresh, and so I'm using this Post Hogwarts fic to 'see if I still got the stuff.' I sincerely hope that I do because I know I've been out of the game for a while know. Please leave feedback so I can know what to improve on, and remember, feedback motivates me, so start reviewing please.
On another note, to avoid grammar errors, I'm in search for a beta reader for this and any future Harry Potter fics I might write, so if you're interested, email me at either or I check both regularly, though I get updated on my hotmail account faster and more often through my MSN Messenger, so that one would be the preferred method, though feel free to email me at whichever one.
Well, I think that about covers everything for now, so keep reading, keep reviewing, and until next time, I'll be watching you...