Title: Footprints in the Sand
Series: Harry Potter and the Philadelphia Raven
Author: L. Ash
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All non-original characters and situations are property of J.K. Rowling, et al. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made from the content below.
Summary: Harry knows number four Privet Drive. It is where he grew up, after all. For ten years, he's even inhabited the cupboard under the stairs. Now that, one can imagine, means that Harry should know every nook and cranny of his home…. But Harry is in for a surprise. When Uncle Vernon orders him to help clean out the attic for Dudley's brand new recreation room, Harry is swept into a magical world which he'd not even glimpsed at Hogwarts. He'd not glimpsed it at Hogwarts… because this world starts at number four Privet Drive! The bond of sisters, he finds, remains strong— if a little dusty— locked away in Petunia's attic. It is a bond that rallies the opportunistic goblins to war, drives Voldemort to bloodlust, and compels ancient societies to resurface. It is a bond that links Harry to the most unimaginable people and events, summons ghosts of the past to walk amongst the living against all odds, and commands the very nature of all things. It is the most infamous of riches this world has known. It belongs to one who hates it, relies on one who cannot use it, beguiles one who does not understand it, lies to one who cannot recognize the truth of it, and cheats one who cannot master it. Yet, Albus Dumbledore would die to protect it…. Harry doesn't stand a chance against it.
But he will leave his footprints in the sand nonetheless.
Warnings: There will be mild slash in later chapters.
Footprints in the Sand
Harry Potter and the Philadelphia Raven
Prologue
Part One:
Lily's Wand and the Impossible Treasure
Laurence Ashton
Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
—Robert Frost
"Fire and Ice"
Harry wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his sleeve and glowered through the dusty air at his fat cousin's arse. Both he and Dudley were assigned to clean out the attic this summer so that it could be furnished for Dudley's new game room. The agreement, between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, was that if Dudley managed to get rid of all of the neatly stacked piles of junk up there, that Uncle Vernon would present him with a game room filled to brim with video games, a pool table, and that light-up dancing game Dudley liked so much in the high street arcades. It would be a late birthday present.
Of course, Harry noted sourly, he ended up doing all of the work for this room and he wouldn't even be allowed to set foot in it after it was finished. He was absolutely cursed.
Swearing under his breath, he turned and chucked a faded old jewelry box at Dudley and laughed when he jumped, squealing with his fat fingers pressed into his bum, as he turned to glare. "Think that's funny, do you?" he demanded, his purple face turning red. "Let's see how funny it is when you're on your back looking up at me through swollen eyes."
Harry snorted. "Oh, abracadabra, and all that," he said waving a lone piece of plywood at his cousin. Harry laughed as Dudley shrunk away, a hint of fear in his eyes. "Did you know, after this year, I'll legally be allowed to perform magic during the holidays? Exciting, isn't it?"
"Daddy won't let you."
"Oh, he won't, eh? I don't rightfully see how he'd be able to stop me, what with my wand in my hand and all. Do you, Duddykins?"
"Shut up, Harry!"
"I will if you get your fat arse over here and help me clean out your game room, you waster."
"Put that thing down, and I'll help you," said Dudley, warily watching the piece of wood in Harry's hands. Harry dropped it with a thud and it clattered dully on the ground, dust mites shooting up in great arcs around it and swirling in the air with glee. Harry coughed and wiped his hands on his already dirty jeans.
"You don't have to be such a prat about… magic," said Dudley, hesitating as he came to the word 'magic' and speaking it as a curse.
"You're a prat to me about everything else," retorted Harry. He pointed at a large box on a high shelf. "Help me get that down. Steady the ladder, would you?"
Dudley grumbled irritably but did as Harry requested. Harry climbed the ladder, and once he reached the top, stretched out and strained in order to get a good grip on the box. It came down leaving a thick grayish cloud in the air. Harry coughed and squinted his eyes.
"Get it!" he told Dudley. "I can't see!"
Coughing, Dudley removed his hands from the ladder, which wobbled in protest, and quickly grabbed the box from Harry; Harry and the ladder collapsed onto one another and Harry coughed at all the grime that assaulted his lungs.
"Curious," said Dudley, leaning over the box as he wiped off the wooden top with a dirty rag. The trunk was well-worn and old, with great brass studs along all of the seams. Looking at it, from his position on the floor, Harry was surprised that he'd gotten it from the shelf so easily. The trunk looked as if it could fit both him and Dudley inside quite spaciously.
Dudley didn't bother to help Harry up, and Harry grumbled, shoving the ladder off of him, and maneuvered to his shaky feet.
"What's curious?" asked Harry as Dudley quickly lifted the lid.
Harry pulled out the first thing that he saw; it was heavy plum velvet. "It's a cloak," he told Dudley. "Like the ones I wear at school."
"This is your Mum's stuff, do you think?" asked Dudley, hesitating. A moment passed as he watched it awkwardly, but he couldn't sate his curiosity. Why would Aunt Petunia have Harry's mum's belongings? Soon, Dudley began rummaging through the box and shoving things aside carelessly. "How strange that it would be here. My mum hates yours."
"She couldn't possibly hate her, you dolt," said Harry with a scowl. "They were sisters, before all this."
Dudley snorted. "Well, I certainly hate you."
"I know," said Harry. "It's funny, though, because I don't hate you at all." There were much more important things to do rather than hate. There were many more healthy things to do than hate.
Dudley looked at him strangely over his shoulder, and Harry shrugged, which was enough to send Dudley scrounging through the chest once more. He sat back on his knees and showed Harry a long black box that would have gleamed beautifully if it had been polished recently. "What's in this?"
"Dunno."
"Oh," said Dudley. "Well." He opened it, exposing a sleek light brown wood with a curved handle. Harry smiled absently at it, reaching down to run his fingers over it lightly. "I know what this is," said Dudley. "It's a wand. Your mum's, I guess." He plucked it out of the box and waved it around. A screech erupted from his lips as green sparks shot out of the wand tip and he dropped it. Harry laughed as Dudley stared at it mortification, poking at it warily with his toe.
"It likes you, I suppose," said Harry. "The wand chooses the wizard, and all that." Harry picked it up and wiped it off with his shirt before holding it out. "You should keep it; might come in handy someday."
"It's dangerous."
"Really," said Harry on a heavy sigh. "Nothing's going to happen if you carry it around, Dudley. You're not even a wizard."
"So why did it do that?" demanded Dudley in righteous indignation. "It doesn't like me. Stop pointing that thing at me!"
Rolling his eyes Harry turned the wand around so that the handle was protruding.
"Why are you giving it to me?" Dudley asked with narrowed eyes. "You're trying to trick me."
"Fine," said Harry. "I'll keep it then." But before he could put it in his pocket, Dudley reached out and snatched it from him. The wand twitched in his hands and he looked down at it suspiciously. "Oink," added Harry, teasingly.
"Shut up!" said Dudley in an enraged squeak. Harry laughed and kneeled beside the trunk, curiously going through the things hidden inside. After a moment or so, Dudley knelt beside him to rummage, the wand poking out of he side pocket on his combat trousers. He pulled back a small tarnished silver case; upon opening it, a runic pendant was exposed. He shoved it towards Harry. "Wear it. Looks like it might bring bad luck." Harry glowered at him, but Dudley kept looking through the chest. Harry would put it on eventually; it was his mother's after all. But Harry would not give Dudley the satisfaction of seeing him do so.
"Hey," he said, tossing old schoolbooks aside. "This trunk is quite bigger than it looks." To prove this point, he pulled out a duffle bag, much larger than the trunk itself in its full state. Together they heaved it onto the floor and Harry scurried around to open it. Plain gold coins spilled out of it, glittering in the dim light like the candy-looking Galleons from Gringotts, but they were very different; the Ministry seal wasn't on the faces. "Wow! Look at all that gold! We're rich!" Dudley exclaimed, his eyes lighting.
"Oh how typical that I can be your cousin now," spat Harry as he watched Dudley fingering the coins with gluttonous awe on his face. "I feel right loved and cherished."
"Shut up, Harry," said Dudley, glowering over the gold at him, becoming somber. "It's fake anyway."
"It's wizard money," corrected Harry.
"So you mean it's worth something?"
"More than Muggle gold, in any case," said Harry with an awkward shrug. "You're not going to tell your parents about this, are you?" Dudley snorted and Harry wasn't at all surprised. "Not surprising. But why not? I'm sure your parents would love to buy that summer house in Majorca they've been talking about all these years; even more so with my mother's money."
"This is too good for a summer house," said Dudley, glowering at Harry. "We could open my business with this gold, and get really nice flats in London."
"We could open your business?" said Harry with an arched eyebrow.
"Yeah," said Dudley, having missed Harry's tone of voice, or having ignored it. "You could even have your freak friends over once in a while. Once we leave school, of course."
"Glad to hear you have great plans for my money."
"Shut up," said Dudley, beginning to scoop the gold back into sack. Harry watched as Dudley made sure he had every last coin before closing the bag tightly. "Come on," he said. "I've a friend who can drive us to London. We're going to get this money put up somewhere safe, in your magic bank or what have you."
Harry blinked and pushed himself to his feet. "We are?"
"Yes, Harry," said Dudley. "Don't be daft! We have to keep this secret from Mum and Dad. Who knows what they'd do with it, and then where would we be? At university, that's where, when I'd much rather open up my kick boxing school."
"You want to teach kids how to fight?"
"Well, it's sort of like an after school program; keep kids out of trouble, you know. But there's going to be more than kick boxing classes now, oh yes." He patted the bag lovingly. "Come on. Mum's up in the kitchen, I bet. We can sneak out the front without her seeing. You go on ahead and take this to the park. I'm going to run down and call Damien and tell him to meet us there, for a twenty piece, of course."
"Dudley, I don't think this is such a good idea, I mean it's my money for one thing, and—"
"Oh, shut up, Harry!" said Dudley in a fierce whisper. "Do you want to keep kids clean, or not?" Dudley didn't wait for Harry's fervent answer, but instead shoved him forwards. "Come on before she sees us."
Harry numbly took up his half of the burden and lugged it downstairs. They made it to the front door when Dudley told him that he was on his own, that he had to get to the park where Damien would be waiting, and hurried back upstairs to his bedroom to use the phone.
As he lugged the heavy black bag down the street, more than once attracting a few odd stares, Harry wondered how he had got into the mess he was in. Cleaning out the attic for Dudley, although rather unpleasant, was quite fine by him to take his mind off of the events of the past few weeks, but it was starting to seem like he was force-fed much more than his stomach could handle. As he made it to the green, Harry leaned panting against the fence, and rubbed absently at his stomach as if he were going to vomit.
A black car pulled up. In it was a boy, just past driving age, and bobbing his head to blaring music. "Harry, right?" he yelled out the window. Harry nodded, feeling the bass inside his skull. The boy grinned. "Hop in!" Harry dutifully opened the car and pushed the bag inside before crawling in after it. The boy turned the music down, thankfully. "D says you need a ride to London for twenty plus gas."
"That's right," said Dudley, appearing breathlessly at the car window, his face flushed under his windswept blonde mop as if he had run. He jumped into the passenger side. "Expenses," said Dudley, handing over a wad of rolled-up money. The boy grinned and shoved the money into his pocket. Harry had never seen him before and wondered who he was.
"Let's roll then," said Damien, and screeched off with a jolt.
For most of the ride, Harry looked out of the window, but sometimes he was caught by snippets of conversation between Dudley and his friend. Harry didn't follow most of what they were talking about, not because of the worldly conversation matter, but because it was populated with names and pseudonyms for people.
"Damien went to Smeltings, Harry," said Dudley as they neared the street that housed the Leaky Cauldron. "We're pretty good friends."
Damien snorted. "Friends," he said, and Dudley grinned. Harry wondered what that was supposed to mean. "What's in the bag, Harry?"
"Socks," Harry answered without thinking, and Dudley snorted. Harry thought that that had been a pretty lame lie, and blushed slightly. "Uh, Red Sox. Game. Satellite stuff."
Damien grinned. "I get it, you know. Run along then. I'll be waiting in the car."
"Come on, Harry," said Dudley jumping out of the car. He swung open the door and dragged Harry out and got a good hold on the bag of gold as well. Harry glared at him as he stumbled and righted himself, but Dudley had slammed the doors shut, ignoring him, and started walking down the street. "It's that one there, isn't it?" he asked, pointing at the grimy-looking shop in the middle of the street. "The Leaky whatsit."
"Cauldron," said Harry darkly as Dudley pushed open the door. Few people turned their heads, and Tom grinned widely.
"Hey, Harry!" he exclaimed, hurrying over. "A bit early this year, aren't you? Haven't even got your lists yet, I don't think."
"It's… ah, something else, Tom," said Harry. Tom nodded, an understanding twinkle in his eyes. "All right, then. Good seeing you. Stop by next time you come, won't you? You know the way, I'm sure."
Harry nodded and walked out the back way. "Bunch of freaks," said Dudley lightly, and Harry glowered at him, whipping out his wand. Dudley's hand instinctively went to his although he wasn't magical, but Harry turned and tapped a brick. Magic crackled in the air as the bricks rearranged themselves into an inviting archway that led into Diagon Alley.
"This is where I come every year to get my school things," said Harry, feeling suddenly like a tour guide. "The bank is down the street."
"We'll let's get to the bank and get out of here," said Dudley, eyeing the passersby with suspicion. "I don't like it here."
"Huzzah and the secret handshake," said Harry darkly. Dudley looked at him strangely again as they neared the gleaming white bank building.
"Say what?"
"You'll have to say that once you get in there so that the goblins don't kill you," explained Harry feeling a bit better when Dudley shivered. "Very violent bunch, goblins. For the past five years in History of Magic, all we learned about was goblins and how vicious they were during the Goblin Rebellions."
Dudley gulped nervously when they reached the bank. "How does the secret handshake go?"
Harry grinned menacingly. "I would have told you, but you stole my mother's money."
"That's not funny!" said Dudley in a fierce whisper. "You could get me killed, you know! The goblins— that's a goblin?" Harry followed Dudley's gaze to the rows of short stout creatures glaring down from their pedestals, and nodded. "Oh," said Dudley miserably. "How does that handshake go?" Harry laughed as they approached one of the tellers and Dudley squeaked out, in a despairing tone, "Huzzah and the secret handshake," and the goblin glowered at him.
"Excuse me?" demanded the goblin as Harry chuckled to himself.
"Pardon my cousin," said Harry. "He's a bit off kilter." Dudley elbowed Harry in the side in righteous indignation. "Is it possible that you could tell me something about this coin?"
Harry reached into the bag and handed it over to the teller. The goblin stared down at it, mumbling to himself, and then glowered at Harry with rage. "Is this some sort of joke?" he demanded.
Harry scrunched up his face. "No. Why?"
The goblin stepped down from its booth and came around to stand shortly before Harry and Dudley, but managed to somehow frighten them both silly. "Come with me, then," he said tersely and turned and stormed away.
"What's going on?" asked Dudley in a worried whisper as they trailed the labyrinth a few steps behind the goblin. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Harry whispered back, wondering how he'd got into this mess for the second time that day. "I'm in the same spot as you, aren't I?" Dudley glared at him and he shrugged.
"We're here," said the goblin. They turned to see an imposing oak door that creaked open of its own volition. "Inside," said the goblin before turning around and leaving them behind.
Swallowing hard, hand on his wand, Harry led the way into the darkened room. He could barely make out the messy desk surrounded by piles of coins. A frail-looking figure was hunched over on the floor, a candle in his hand as he examined a small coin.
"Excuse me, sir," said Harry. The little goblin jumped in surprise and clambered to his feet, knocking over stacks of coins as he did so. "Ah, sorry about that."
"Not a problem," squeaked the goblin. "Happens all the time. I'm Gerh, misters…"
"Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley," said Harry pointing at each of them. The goblin nodded and maneuvered through the piles to light a few torches.
"Ah, yes. What can I do for you?"
"We found some coins in my mum's trunk," said Harry, and Dudley snorted, shifting the bag over his shoulder. "We just wanted to know something about them, since… since they don't look like normal Galleons, and if they were worth something, we thought we'd put them up."
"All right then, let's see them," said the goblin. Harry handed over the coin from before and the goblin studied it, making little squeaks of surprise as he did so. Finally he looked up at Harry and straightened his glasses. "Genuine," he told them.
"It's real gold, then?" asked Dudley, a manic gleam in his eyes. The goblin shook his head and laughed a little.
"Oh, dear me, no. Not natural gold, no." The goblin smiled. "It's a bit of magic gold. It comes from captured dragon fire." The goblin handed it back. "Can't buy a thing with it, though."
Dudley's face crumbled with thoughts of university. "You mean it's worthless!"
"Merlin, no!" said the goblin, tittering over to a chart posted on his wall. The letters were so small Harry wondered how he was able to read it at all, but the goblin hummed to himself and pointed to something on the chart. "Here it is. Pure, yellow gold, runic," Harry turned the coin over in his hands and wondered where he'd seen the runes. "Quite the find you have, Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley. You'd do well to lock those up in a high security vault, not tell anyone you have them, and the like."
"What is it, though?" asked Dudley impatiently. "Is it worth anything at all?"
"Oh, it's worth quite a lot, but I can't say how much," said the goblin. "Those are coins made from dragon fire and Veela tears. Not an ounce of nature in them." The goblin smiled at them in a friendly fashion. "Why don't you both keep one with you and put the rest of them in a vault. We've opened our new high security vaults, you know," he went on to explain in a helpful fashion that Harry found wasn't helpful at all. "Blood and tears willingly given, three keys and a specially made wand. They even have a special lockdown mechanism with immobilization dust. We check them every ten years for break-ins. I daresay you can afford it. Quite effective."
Dudley looked rather frustrated. "Why can't we buy anything with them?" he demanded. "What good is money if you can't spend it?"
The goblin looked at him for a moment, shocked. "Oh, so you don't know what they are?" he asked. "Dear me. I should have explained. Well, what you boys have is the Impossible Treasure."
"The what?" asked Harry, nose scrunched in confusion.
"The Impossible Treasure," said the goblin again. "Runic, you know. As good as—" The door slammed open and another goblin stormed in, this one as mean and surly as the rest of the goblin tellers.
"Have you finished with this analysis, yet?" demanded the goblin. "We've been waiting for it in conference for three days."
"You said you wanted a thorough—"
"I want it now!"
"All right," said Gerh, scurrying around to his desk and hastily pulling together a messy report. "All right. Have it then. Good day, sirs. One of the goblins upstairs will help you set up a new account with us."
Harry and Dudley found themselves pushed out into the hall, from where they were ushered upstairs and into a private office of another goblin, quite a mean one, to open up an account. He tried to sell them some stock as well, which Dudley gleefully accepted ten shares for fifty of Harry's Galleons each. Harry wondered why he was putting up with any of this, and when he couldn't find an answer, he resigned to sulking on the way home as the sky darkened and Dudley and Damien screamed along with the atrocious music.
