Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine. JKR is the creator, blah, blah, blah. Anything you don't recognize from canon is mine. Anything you may recognize from another fic is either coincidental, meaning it's from a fic I haven't read, accidental, meaning it's from a fic that I have read, but forgot it came from someone else's work, in which case I apologize, or is something that I thought up, but someone else used in a similar way before I had the chance to post this, if that makes sense (You'll see at least one of those in this chapter). Does anybody even read these things?
Even though this story is now officially an A/U, I will continue writing it until I have finished. The real OotP, though not nearly as good as I expected, did give me some ideas. You may notice in near-future chapters that certain elements from OotP have been incorporated into this story, while others have been left out. I won't tell you what they are, though. I will also be slightly modifying everything that I have written after the end of this chapter in order to correspond to information Rowling gave us about general knowledge of the Wizarding World, i.e., Metamorphmagi and the Wizengamut.
(A/N: I know that this chapter is even more ridiculously late than its most recent predecessor, and though I will not needlessly take up space groveling, I want you all to know that I am more sorry than words can properly describe. The reasons for the delay are numerous, mostly involving school and real life interfering, as they are wont to do, and I'm sure you don't want to read them right now, so my excuses will be placed in this chapter's closing note. I've kept you waiting for far, far too long as it is, so without further adieu, on with the fic. One more thing, Chapter 4 will probably be re-posted with Hermione's letter some time this weekend.)
Chapter 5: Another Meeting with MethosWhen Harry fell asleep, he instantly found himself in a dream world, as he had exactly one month before. This time, however, he was most definitely not in Egypt. The sky was still a blindingly sunless white, but the ground, instead of sand, was hilly and covered in grass. All in all, it looked like someplace he would find in England or Scotland.
"Hello again, Harry" a voice said, as its owner stepped up beside Harry. "I hope you are well."
"Extremely well, Methos," Harry replied, "This has been the best birthday of my life. The only way it could be better was if my friends were here to celebrate it with me."
"And whose fault is that?" queried Methos.
"My own, I know. Oh, well, there's always next year," said Harry. "Where are Merlin and Godric?"
"They couldn't come," Methos replied "but they did give me the gifts they intended to give you. Do you want them now, or should I give them to you after we have our serious talk?"
"I think I'll open the gifts first. After all, if this talk gets too boring, at least I'll have some gifts to play with," Harry said, with an amused grin on his face.
"I think that you want to do the gifts first because you're a little too happy over your other gifts to be serious about anything," Methos teased.
"Very funny, old man," Harry shot back. He wasn't sure which annoyed him more: Methos' teasing, or the fact that he was right.
"Well, since it is your birthday, here you are," Methos declared. He waved his hand and four packages appeared: two long and thin, one large and box-shaped, and one very small package placed atop the large one. "And technically, I'm not old; I'm dead."
Methos picked up the shorter of the two thin gifts. "This one is from Godric," he said as Harry opened it. Inside the box lay an exquisite sword; it was the ideal length, perfectly balanced, feather light, and a work of art. (If you're the type who needs a really good mental picture, just imagine the sword Arwen used in Lord of the Rings. And don't go saying it's girly; a weapon is a weapon, they are not gender-specific.)
"It's beautiful." Harry said "But this can't be Gryffindor's sword. I pulled that out of the Sorting Hat at the end of my second year."
"The sword in your hands is Gryffindor's true sword. The one you pulled out of the hat was simply put there for one who was in dire need of it. This sword is made from a magical metal, Harry. It cannot be broken, and the only way to get it into the shape you want is to conjure it that way. It hasn't been enchanted to be light, that's just the way it is; it's incredibly strong, but unbelievably light. The blade will never break, and it will never grow dull, either. "
"It's wonderful," Harry said, slashing at thin air to test the sword. "Thank Godric for me," he said as he put the sword down, waiting for his next gift.
"Of course, Harry. Now, the big one there and the little one on top are from Merlin. Oh! Before I forget, you should know that that sword will burn the hand of anyone who touches it without getting permission from you beforehand."
"Cool, but why did Merlin give me two gifts?"
"I don't know. He always was an overachiever, and perhaps he thought you might enjoy them. Open the smaller one first."
Harry opened the box and pulled out a small vial of clear glass, with an eyedropper for a cap, and filled with a milk-white liquid.
"What is it?"
"A potion, obviously."
"I can see that. I meant, what does it do?"
"It makes your eyes able to see through anything."
"You mean like Moody's magic eye?"
"Moody? Oh, yes, that paranoid Auror who was supposed to be your defense teacher last year. Yes, it makes your eyes able to see like his, but it also reveals polyjuice users and animagi.
"How do I use it?" Harry asked, eagerly.
"You put five drops in each eye once a month. After a while, you will be able to see like Moody's magical eye whenever you want to. All you need to do is focus; otherwise you might see some things you, or perhaps others, would rather you not see," Methos continued with a chuckle.
"Great. I'll be sure to start using it as soon as I wake up."
"Wonderful, Harry. Now come on, open the other," he said, excitedly.
Harry found that, instead of being wrapped, Merlin's other gift simply had a large piece of cloth draped over it. Drawing the cloth away, Harry was amazed to find a phoenix. It was gold and white in color, and just a little smaller than Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. It was the most beautiful animal he had ever seen in his life. It flew up, landed on his shoulder, and trilled out a long note of phoenix song that made Harry feel warm, safe and…at home in a way even Hogwarts could not.
"What's her name?" Harry asked, knowing somehow that the phoenix was a girl.
"She doesn't have one yet," Methos replied, "It is yours to decide, Harry."
'What should I call her?' Harry thought. Then it hit him: Lily, his mother's name. The way the phoenix's song made him feel was exactly how he had always imagined his mother would make him feel. It just fit.
"I'll call her Lily," he said. Methos seemed surprised, but did not ask for an explanation.
(A/N: You often find in fanfiction that when Harry gets a female phoenix, he names it Lily, but I'm the first that I know of who actually thought of a reason why, so I've put some originality into the "Phoenix Cliché". So there!)
"A fine choice, Harry," he said, picking up the last package and handing it to him. "This last one is from me, obviously."
Harry opened the package, and pulled out…a long stick? No, it was a staff, a mage's wand. It was made of a very hard wood, clean but with a rough look and feel that testified to its great age. It was carved unnaturally straight and had a black crystal at its tip, a little bigger than an egg and as smooth as glass. The crystal was held in place by the carving of a claw of some magical beast. When Harry held the staff, a strange white glow came from the center of the crystal, while the rest stayed pitch black. The staff seemed to fit perfectly into his hand, and was balanced perfectly. Harry was interrupted from his inspection of the staff by Methos, who had been describing it himself:
"…Crete cedar wood, tipped by a black Diamond. It's made to be used only for the most powerful and ancient mage arts. I made it for myself and my heirs. Use it well Harry."
"It's…simply beyond words, Methos. Thank you"
"You're very welcome, Harry. Now, I hate to rush, but we really need to get to more serious matters."
"Such as?"
"Such as what we neglected to tell you during our first meeting."
"Do all powerful wizards speak in half-truths, or is it just the ones I know?" Harry asked, frustratedly, thinking of Dumbledore's affinity for riddles and good-natured secrecy.
"It's just a coincidence. I think…."
"Alright. Just tell me so I can get back to my normal dreams."
"You mean you and what's-her-name snogging?"
"Shut up! Now tell me, please!"
"But you told me to shut up."
"Arrgh! I meant stop teasing me."
"Oh, right. Any way, the first thing is how powerful you're really going to become. Let me ask you, what do you know about the Potentis Potion?"
"It was invented in Mid-Roman times and is used to determined how powerful magical people are."
"Good to see you've been putting our library to good use. Now what did I tell you about your power a month ago?"
"That it would be twice as great as yours, Merlin's, and Godric's put together."
"That is a half-truth. You see, we meant that you would be twice as great according to the Potentis Scale. In terms of actual power, there is a big difference."
"How so?"
"Very few wizards are aware that on the scale, magical strength in literal terms becomes much greater than in the numerical sense. The only ones who do know are those who have bothered to study such Muggle mathematical disciplines as geometry and calculus, and given the way most influential wizards tend to dismiss anything to do with Muggles, the information is considered lunacy the moment it is brought up for discussion, simply because Muggle science was used to prove it.
"I'll let you figure out why on your own, but the best way I can describe the system's flaw is that it takes much more magical power to make a difference to the potion as the power becomes greater. In Potentis terms, you will be eleven times more powerful than Godric, but in terms of actual magical power, you will be just over one hundred times stronger than he was."
(A/N: If you actually bother to do the math using the magical strength levels that I have already determined, Harry should actually be about 1331 times stronger that Godric, but I thought that that would be overdoing it, even for this fic. Also, to those who say that I'm already overdoing it as far as power is concerned, there is a good reason for it, but I won't say yet what it is. Besides, this is my story and I'll do whatever I want! *sticks out tongue in childish gesture* Don't worry though, the next stuff is a bit more reasonable…I think.)
Harry's jaw had, as it had so many times already that night, hit the floor.
"The rate at which you regenerate magic after using it will also greatly improve. This means that you can use more powerful spells without having to rest as often as a normal person. With all the power you'll undoubtedly be using, you need to be able to get it back as quickly as possible."
Harry, who was recovering from his shock, asked if there was anything else.
"Of course there's more! Do you even realize what you'll be capable of with that much power? The reason you need a staff for only the highest mage arts is that you're strong enough to do anything beneath them without any kind of magical tool. In other words, you will be a master of 'wand-less magic'."
(A/N: I had to do that. You know I had to do it. But then again, I wanted to do it, so why am I even writing this note? Oh God, I've got a headache.)
"Wow," Harry said.
"I'm not done yet," Methos continued, raising a hand to stop Harry from speaking. "There is still the matter of your animagus forms to discuss."
"What about my animagus form?" Harry asked.
"Forms, Harry, as in more than one. You have five: three magical creatures and two normal animals."
"Well, what are they?" Harry asked eagerly. (I really need to buy a thesaurus)
"Each magical creature is a symbol, one for Merlin, another for Godric, and a third for me. My symbol, and the symbol of our family, is the gryphon. Merlin is a dragon, and Godric's is a phoenix. The two normal animals are an owl and a wolf."
Harry just stood there, overcome by the sense of awe he felt as he contemplated all the powers he would have.
"Don't worry, Harry, there's only one more thing: Mage-Sense. Have you ever heard of it?"
Snapping out of his daze, Harry answered, "Not really. Even in the library in the trunk, the only thing I've seen on Mage-Sense was an obscure reference, where it was mentioned but not explained. I was curious, and looked every where, but I couldn't find anything on it."
"Yes, I know. We purposely left any books that went in-depth on Mage-Sense out of the library."
"What? Why?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Harry. I'll tell you everything you need to know about it now, though."
"Alright. Will you let me see the books as well, just in case I forget something?"
"Certainly," Methos replied, waving his hand so that a stack of about twenty-five large books appeared. "To keep it simple, Mage-Sense is the ability to see and sense magic."
"What do you mean?"
"Seeing magic means that you can see magical peoples' auras, traces of magic spells that have been cast, magic around objects, and so on. At first, you will only be able to interpret a little of what you see, based on instinct. As time passes, and you observe the residual magic left by your own aura and spells, you will become much more skillful as a Mage-Seer. Within six weeks or so, you might even be able to perceive magical interactions well enough to improve your spells by altering the casting processes to make them more efficient and attuned to your own magic.
"When I say that you can sense magic I mean that you will be able to detect the presence of magical people, creatures, and objects if they are close enough. As with seeing magic, the interpretation will be instinctive at first but will improve very quickly. Depending on your level of concentration, you may be able to sense someone or something up to three hundred paces from your location. (About one-fifth of a mile…I think.)
"I would recommend that you direct most of your focus concerning those books toward the ancient Chinese editions. You'll find a number of techniques they invented for utilizing Mage-Sense as a combative skill. Most of them, well, all of them actually, require quite a bit of practice and mental focus, but I have no doubt that you'll be able to do them.
"Oh my! Look at the time! (Wait a minute, where's the clock?)You really have to be going, Harry."
"Oh, um…bye Methos. Say hello and thanks to Merlin and Godric for me."
"I will Harry. Goodbye!"
~*~*~*
Harry awoke slowly, creeping back into consciousness. He rather groggily hobbled to his trunk and entered the seventh chamber. Once inside, he staggered to the bathroom, turned on the faucet for the tub, and jumped in. (A/N: Remember, it's as big as a small swimming pool.)
"AAAEEEIII!!!"
Of course, in his semi-consciousness, he didn't notice that he had only turned on the cold water.
Five minutes later, a still-shivering Harry climbed out of the bath and finished up in the bathroom. After eating a small breakfast, he climbed out of the trunk and left number four. Less than one minute after he began running, he stopped. In front of him was Mrs. Figg's house; it was glowing dimly in shades of pale blue and yellow, even more easily visible than it usually would have been, as it was still dark out. Harry had suspected for a few weeks now that Mrs. Figg was a witch, and the magic he saw in and around her home confirmed it beyond any doubt. (Well, duh!) No, wait, the level of magic within the house was too low for a magically gifted person, but there was enough there for him to deduce that either Mrs. Figg was a Squib with a few magical possessions, or that she was a witch and simply was not home and had departed recently. Harry knew that the only reason that information had come to him was because of his newly manifested abilities as a Mage-Seer, but it still disturbed him that he just suddenly knew something without having to make any effort to learn it.
Out of curiosity, Harry turned around to look toward Privet Drive. There it was, even from over a street away, he could clearly see a pink and red transparent dome, easily thirty times brighter than Mrs. Figg's home: the wards surrounding the Dursley residence.
He turned once again, and continued towards the plant. Throughout the day, he went about his usual routine, occasionally receiving a belated 'happy birthday' from someone who had not been at the party the night before.
~*~*~*
Two weeks later, Harry was in front of the mirror again. This time, he was not starring in shock at an unrecognizable reflection; he was reviewing the changes his body had undergone in the last fifteen minutes. He had grown about three-and-one-half more inches, his hair had grown another two or so, his voice had gotten much further along in its changing than it had been, and his chest and shoulders had broadened and filled out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two days after his birthday, he had begun to drastically increase the amount of physical training he was doing. By spending a great deal of time in the trunk, he had finished all five of his animagus transformations, and intended to master using each of them. He was also through with serious studying, and wanted to spend some time having fun in the fine wilderness areas in his trunk.
While he was mountain climbing the previous night, there had been a rockslide and Harry was seriously hurt. He barely managed to get to the sixth compartment of his trunk, which he had converted into a potions lab. He grabbed the first healing potion that he could get his hands on, and drank it down just before he lost consciousness. He awoke fifteen minutes later, and examined the empty vial to determine what he had drunk. It was an unusual potion which healed injuries by letting them heal on their own, but accelerated the body's functions to make it heal much faster. The effect was about six months worth of ageing in the space of a quarter of an hour.
In an unusual twist, he noticed that his magical strength had increased as well, and he had reached his maximum, two weeks ahead of schedule. He was considerably confounded, though, when he more closely examined his power: it was all there, there was no doubt about that, but a profoundly large amount of it was behind some kind of psychic wall, and unable to be accessed.
Even more vexing was that power he had already been using was behind the wall as well. The previous morning, he estimated his power to be just under what Merlin was capable of when he was alive. Now, however, he could only utilize a little more than what Godric must have possessed. This matter would require heavy thinking, and lots of it, but not until he had returned to Privet Drive that evening.
After his self-examination had concluded, he moved to compartment number five, which he had made into his broom workshop. He had read, re-read, and memorized the book on broomstick making that Hermione had sent him and was making full use of the knowledge: the best types of wood, the shape it was carved into, and not only the enchantments placed on it, but the order and combination in which they were placed. All played a role in making a broom. Harry finished drawing up plans for the broom he was going to make and began to carve the wood. He estimated that it would be completed within a day of his arrival in Diagon alley.
When Harry went to work that day, the only difficulty was in explaining the sudden and extreme changes in his appearance. He handled it in the fashion that was typically used by the Ministry, however, and as much as he disapproved of it, he had to agree that it worked quite well; he just denied that there was any change and said that it was all their imaginations. Apart from that little problem, everything went normally, and he stopped to get a bite to eat on the way back to Privet Drive. As he ate, he couldn't help but think that even without any contact with his friends or extended family, this had been the best summer ever. (A/N: Uh-oh, he's jinxed himself.)
When he returned to privet drive, however, his opinion changed. For the instant he entered the house, he heard a voice, one he had not heard in just over two years. A voice which filled him with dread, exasperation, frustration, anger, and above all, hatred for its owner, who had used it to insult his parents when he had last heard it.
Aunt Marge had come to visit.
(A\N: DUN, DUN, DUN!)
(Closing A/N: Still in need of ideas for spell effects. Sorry again for the…three months and something days wait. It's just that there were complications. I do have a good deal of free time at school, but the problem is that the library computers don't run MSWord, and the computer labs are almost always reserved by classes when I do have time. I recently purchased a laptop, however, which among other things, has enabled me to work on this story in my spare time at school. As it is, I have about 60-90 minutes per day to type up the handwritten stuff, or to write new work, but putting it directly into the computer to save time. I'll probably alternate between typing and writing every other day, so that the story can continue to progress…I have been having a lot of good ideas, lately. I only just started typing Chapter 6, but I have over 5 hours tomorrow, and my beta is coming to visit for a few days, so we should make quite a bit of progress. I also have my little sister working on typing Chapter 7 while I work on 6, so that should help a bit. I'm also sorry that this chapter is relatively short, but I will tell you that the next two make up almost half of the story's total current length, and that's including what I haven't put up yet. I won't bother telling you when the next chapter is coming, because we all know by now that I can't meet a deadline. I'll just tell you that I am working on it, and that I will put status updates in my bio every week or so. Until next time, then, whenever it may be………)