Disclaimer: I own nothing!
The Power Within
Chapter Two – Stonewall High
Harry ran. And ran. As far as his exhausted body could take him away from the house that had been a living hell the first eleven years of his life, and now held a quartet who Harry feared above all else. They offered him power, knowledge, a way to kill the man who'd plagued his dreams for five years. . . but at what cost? When he'd turned over his wand and walked away from the wizarding world six months ago, he'd meant every harsh word he'd exchanged with Hogwarts' esteemed Headmaster. He was DONE with magic, DONE with standing by helplessly as friends died, and he was DONE with being the Boy-who-lived. And no time-travelling, super-powerful, gift-bearing quartet were going to weaken his resolve.
"Just where do you think you're going, young man?" a stern voice snapped suddenly. Harry, taken by surprise, crashed right into the owner of the voice, sending them both sprawling. Hastily pushing himself upright, Harry reached down and, wincing, helped the person he'd crashed into to their feet.
"Well well, it seems Salazar was wrong. You DO have some manners, hmm?" the person remarked, and Harry, recognizing her as Rowena Ravenclaw, jerked away. Backing away from the blue-clad woman, Harry took deep breaths, slowing his racing heartbeat, and slowly took in his surroundings.
He'd apparently made it all the way to Thorn Street, before he'd encountered Ravenclaw and had been sent sailing into Crabapple Park. Harry'd been to the park occasionally – it was only a block from his new muggle school, Stonewall – and noted without much thought the beaten-down swings and broken slide that were a typical feature of parks in his neighborhood.
"Much more respectful now, eh?" a deep, masculine voice rang out from behind Harry, and he spun around to discover Gryffindor lazily leaning against the slide, chocolate eyes twinkling.
"You!" Harry demanded. "What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with you!" He now noticed the other two founders he'd previously missed – Slytherin was lying on a low stone wall, propped up by his elbow, and Hufflepuff was standing next to the man, beaming. Why wouldn't people just leave him alone?
"You are Harry Potter, lad. You're destined for greatness, whether you like it or not." Ravenclaw stated, taking a step towards Harry.
"Argh! Enough with the bloody mind reading already! I don't care about being your heir, I don't care about whatever powers you want to give me, and I don't care about being the boy-who-lived! Go give your powers to someone who wants them! I've tried playing the hero and look how that turned out!"
"Don't you raise your voice to me!" Ravenclaw snapped, apparently the voice of the group. "You're our heir, and you'll like it!"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "I don't want your powers, and I never will. You're wasting your time, I'm afraid." With that, Harry turned and stalked towards the street, but was cut off by Gryffindor, who blocked his way. "Would you get out of my way?" Harry snapped irritably. "I'm tired, pissed off, and have an English essay due tomorrow I haven't started yet. Don't mess with me."
The founders exchanged a glance. Harry, satisfied they finally got the idea, side-stepped around Gryffindor and continued down Thorn Street. He only stopped when he realized the quartet were following him. He rounded on them furiously. "Ahh! I told you I don't want your dumb powers! When will you leave me alone?"
"When you agree to accept the powers." Helga explained cheerfully. "Until then, we'll follow you to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
"Or do something stupid," Slytherin added. Harry clenched his fists, trying desperately not to attack these arrogant, annoying people who wouldn't leave him alone. Why wouldn't they just let him go back to his miserable existence in peace? With a sigh, Harry sank down to the sidewalk.
"Fine," he snapped irritably. "Follow me all you like, but it won't do any good. I'm too stubborn for my own good, just ask Hermione, she'll tell you . . ." Bad idea. Thinking about Hermione brought up feelings of guilt for leaving the wizarding world to fend for itself. New topic. "Just out of interest, how did you find me?"
Ravenclaw beamed. "I knew it! You're interested in learning to use your powers!"
Harry glared at her. "I am not! Are you saying you used some weird power to find me?"
"But of course, boy! As a telepath, I simply located your mind, planted a mental tracking device of sorts, and just followed it to you."
Harry sighed. "I suppose this means I can't hide or get away from you four, right?"
Slytherin smirked. "There is that, yes. Of course, you could just accept the powers, and we'd leave you alone." Harry was tempted for a moment, before mentally hitting himself. Don't give in! It appeared the resistance thing wasn't working. Well, he'd just have to try something else, wouldn't he?
A brilliant idea suddenly struck Harry.
"Fine," he said nonchalantly. "Stick around if you like. I'm going home, to bed, so save your speeches for tomorrow."
Hufflepuff smiled. "Does that mean you'll listen to our words tomorrow?"
Harry grinned. "Who knows? All I know is that you four are going to have run away screaming by the end of tomorrow, and I'll be free to live in peace."
Gryffindor arched an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
"You obviously know nothing about modern times, sir. Tomorrow I'm going to HIGH SCHOOL. MUGGLE high school, no less. If you can survive a day there, then you're braver than I give you credit for. Night." Satisfied, Harry darted off into the night, contemplating a life free of guilt, free of death, and free of these annoying, extremely respected and important people who just wouldn't leave him alone.
Godric turned to Rowena in confusion. "High school? Is that supposed to scare us?"
Slytherin shrugged. "I suspect we're about to find out."
.::.
". . . and take the trash out too, boy! You forget to do it again, and you won't get food for a week!" Uncle Vernon bellowed after Harry as he dashed out the front door, dodging a dishtowel Aunt Petunia had swatted at him with. "Dinner's at six, boy, so don't be late, or you won't be getting any! I don't know why we bother with him, Petunia, he shouldn't even be here now, he should be at that freak school . . ."
Sighing, Harry hoisted his old, mangled backpack onto his shoulder, grabbed the garbage can and dragged it down to the end of the driveway. Checking his watch, Harry muffled a frustrated curse. He was going to be late for school again! Today, of all days, when he had a Drama presentation first period! And to top it all off, as Harry trudged back up the driveway, he spotted four figures crossing the lawn towards him, two wearing ornate, frilly dresses that could only mean one thing – the Founders' arrival hadn't been a figment of his imagination.
"Still here, are you?" he demanded half-heartedly as he pulled out his key, unlocked the door of a rusty old Ford Anglia and climbed in. He'd bought the car for ten pounds off a next-door neighbor when it broke down "beyond repair", but after the gaining of a driver's license and a quick visit to Harry's shop teacher at school, the car was now in fairly-decent working condition. He stuck the key in the ignition and prepared to back out of the driveway when he realized the quartet were standing a good ten feet away from the car with fearful expressions on their faces.
"What's wrong?" Harry inquired in interest as Hufflepuff squeaked and hid behind Gryffindor, who patted her shoulder comfortingly, although he too seemed nervous.
"Harry," Ravenclaw stated in tones of forced calm. "I want you to stay perfectly still. We four will stun the beast on the count of three, and you will hopefully be able to jump out of its mouth without sustaining too much damage."
Harry stared. They thought his car was a . . . beast? And that he had been, what?, eaten by it? Actually, he reflected, that made a lot of sense, coming from four people who'd lived a millennia ago.
"Three, two, one, STUPEFY!" the four shouted, and the car rocked on it's tires slightly as the four jets of light struck it's side. Ravenclaw stared in disbelief, apparently under the belief the "beast" was still alive. "Again! STUPE-"
"STOP!" Harry yelled, jumping out of the car and standing protectively in front of his ride. "Don't curse my car! It's not alive, it's just made out of metal, see?" He rapped on the door to prove his point, but the quartet weren't listening.
"Harry, my lad, step away from the beast," Gryffindor commanded. "You may be attached to it, but you can't keep magical creatures in a muggle village. At least let us stun it so it doesn't attack you!"
Harry closed his eyes wearily. The day hadn't started yet, and already he was on the verge of exploding from frustration. "Listen, oh great Founders, this is the Twentieth Century. We have something here called 'technology', and this 'beast' is a product of technology. It's made of metal . . . er . . . iron?, and it's most definitely NOT alive."
"You mean it won't attack us?" Hufflepuff inquired, hesitantly approaching the car.
"NO," Harry repeated. "It's completely inanimate. It's just a . . . a . . . a wagon! Like a wagon, except it moves by itself, using 'technology', like I said before."
The other three founders followed Hufflepuff to the car, and began poking and prodding it suspiciously with their wands. "You sit in it, then?" Ravenclaw asked in fascination. "And it moves? Without horses?"
"YES," Harry insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to school." He opened the door and climbed inside, turned the key and started the engine. "I'll see you later . . . or not . . ." For as Harry turned on the car, the founders had discovered how to operate the door handles and had taken a seat in the back.
"You can't get in my car!" he protested.
"And why not?" Ravenclaw demanded crisply.
"Because I'm going to school! You can't come to school? I was joking last night!"
"Well, we're coming whether you like it or not, young man. Start your invisible horses, and we can go to your Tall School, or whatever you called it."
"HIGH school," Harry replied irritably. "What are you going to do, pretend to be students or something?"
Hufflepuff suddenly started bouncing up and down, shaking the whole car. "Oh! Can we? That would be SO much fun!"
"If it will get you to be quiet," Slytherin snapped at the ecstatic woman, who ignored him as if she were used to his rude demeanor. Which she probably was.
"Fine." Ravenclaw agreed. "We will pose as students at Harry's school, so we can watch him throughout the day. Glamour spells on the count of three, please. One, two, three . . ."
Harry, half-turned in his seat, watched in awe as the four middle-aged people transformed into younger, more attractive versions of themselves. Their clothes had changed as well, he noticed, and what were once 10th century garments were now low-rise jeans (for the girls) and baggy cargo pants (for the guys). Harry almost choked; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd be in the same car as Rowena Ravenclaw, with her wearing a halter-top. And, worse, she was hot!
Ugh! The woman was a thousand years old! Mind out of the gutter, Harry told himself firmly. Turning resolutely forward, Harry sped off towards Stonewall High, doing his best to ignore the shrieks of terror from the back seat. Finally, five ear splitting minutes later, the crowded Ford Anglia pulled into the pot-hole filled drive of Stonewall High School, the local comprehensive.
The founders stared in awe at the large, square, brick building adults called school and children called prison. "Look at the tiny stone blocks it's made of!" Ravenclaw gasped. "I've never seen that type of rock before!"
"It's called brick," Harry supplied as he got out of the car. Opening the door for Ravenclaw, he couldn't help but laugh as she fell face-first onto the cement sidewalk. Well, honestly, it was her fault for transfiguring her shoes into six-inch stilettos! "Easy there, Miss Ravenclaw . . ." he said as Gryffindor gallantly helped the flustered woman to her feet.
Slytherin glanced up at the building with distaste. "Pah. It's not so big. Doesn't hold a candle to Hogwarts."
Harry laughed. "I should take you to New York, then. One glance at the Empire State Building, and you'll be singing a different tune."
"I do not sing," Slytherin informed him icily. "Nor do I dance. That is for pompous prats like Godric to do." Harry shrugged. The man was really starting to annoy him; he was too much like Snape for Harry's taste.
"This is my school, Stonewall High." Harry informed the quartet. "If you really want to . . . er . . . attend school, you'll have to register in the office. Just before you do that, though, I'd like to make a last ditch attempt to have you go away and leave me alone."
"No time." Ravenclaw snapped. "The day is young, and there is much to do. Besides, boy, we're staying whether you like it or not."
Enraged, Harry began hotly, "First of all, my name is not Boy, it's HARRY. And secondly-"
"Secondly," Gryffindor interrupted. "You will address us by our given names; Godric, Rowena, Salazar, and Helga."
"None of this 'Miss Ravenclaw' nonsense." Rowena snapped. Harry was going to argue, but a quick glance at his watch told him he had ten minutes till homeroom started.
"You know what? Fine. Come with me, I'll point out the office, but then I have to get to class." As Harry swept away, the founders easily fell into step behind him, taking in the behavior of 20th century teenagers with awe, amusement, and sometimes disgust. Helga was especially amused by a congregation of punks – complete with hot-pink mohawks – smoking small cylinders that made a few of them cough rather sickeningly every few seconds. Rowena's nose wrinkled with distaste, and muttered something about giving them detention if she were headmaster of the school.
As they ascended the front steps, Harry decided an impromptu tour was in need. Seated cross-legged in the middle of the stairs was a brown eyed and haired girl, wearing dull clothes that had been in fashion about ten years ago. She stared blankly into space, unmoving, humming a tuneless song, hands folded neatly in her lap. The founders gaped at her.
"Is that girl quite alright?" Rowena demanded of Harry, who shrugged.
"No one really knows, to tell you the truth. Her name is Carla Simmons, and as long as anyone can remember she's been sitting in that exact spot, unmoving. Even the administration doesn't know why she's here; rumor has it she was expelled five years ago for some unknown reason, and now sits there day after day as she plans out her revenge."
Four pairs of eyebrows raised.
"That seems a tad . . . farfetched," said Godric. Harry laughed.
"Yeah, well, if you think SHE's weird, wait till you meet the rest of the school."
They continued into the building, stopping at the office so Rowena could register herself and her three companions. As it turned out, Rowena managed to get them assigned to the same classes as Harry took, meaning he was stuck with them the ENTIRE day.
"Figures you'd pull a trick like that." Harry grumbled as he led the group to homeroom, which also happened to be his Drama class. "Oh, stop here! We need to see the Baron about some lockers for you four."
"Lockers?" Helga questioned.
"When you get your books and things," Harry explained. "You'll need somewhere to put them. Ah, here we go." He led them through a set of swinging doors, down a dirty staircase, and into an alcove just beside the base of the stairs. Inside the alcove was a rather sinister looking boy seated comfortably on a large red armchair, who was eating what looked like a turkey leg.
"Umm . . . hi?" Godric offered, but thankfully Harry took charge.
"This is Steve Winston, known around Stonewall as the Locker Baron."
"Pleased to meet you," Baron Steve said regally, waving a hand pompously. "Here for more lockers, Potter? I recently acquired some excellent real estate up by the science pod hallway, you interested?"
Harry waved the boy off. "No thanks, Baron. My friends need a locker, though."
The boy wiped his spectacles and shifted forward on his armchair. "New students, eh? Well, the science pod lockers need to be filled, so what are you wanting? Three lockers apiece? I could get you some nice ones down by the gym if you like – just won them in a bet off Lord Brian."
"Lord Brian was the former Locker Baron of the school," Harry explained, fully aware of how ridiculous the whole situation was. Then again, the students of Stonewall were muggles, which would explain a lot in Harry's opinion. "Baron Steve just recently won the whole 200 series of lockers off him, and is eager to have them filled. Mainly to assert his rule over the lockers in the school, but also just to hack Brian off."
The quartet stared at the two boys. "Er . . .just one locker will be fine, thanks . . ." Rowena said hesitantly. The Baron beamed at Rowena, who looked rather bewildered.
"Excellent! Four lockers, then. I'll call you for your payment later. Good day."
"That means we're dismissed," Harry supplied, dragging the quartet into one of the more trafficked areas of the school. Rowena rounded on him furiously.
"How can you attend this . . . this . . . madhouse! You gave up magic and Hogwarts for THIS?"
"Thank you," Harry returned, equally angry, "but I don't need you questioning how I run my life! I chose this place for my own reasons, and even if it is a bit . . . strange, I like it! Now come on, class is starting!"
Harry strode furiously off down the hall, the time-travelers trailing behind him. Helga sighed. "That boy is as stubborn as you, Godric. I'm starting to think he'll never accept the powers!"
"Of course he will," Salazar snapped. "The boy isn't stupid; he'll come around eventually."
"Definitely." Rowena agreed immediately. "Don't fret, Helga. Harry knows just as well as we do that he belongs at Hogwarts." They stopped outside a classroom door, which bore the numbers 146 on a small panel. Harry took a deep breath.
"Well, here goes nothing . . ."
Godric eyed him. "You can't run forever, you know."
Harry shrugged. "That's what Dumbledore said."
"Then he's a smart man."
"Smartest man I know. But do you know what I told him?"
"What?"
"I said that I may not be able to run forever, but I will do whatever takes to run for as long as I can. I may not be able to escape my destiny, but I can damn well try."
Godric frowned. "I somehow doubt you said that."
Harry shrugged again. "No, I didn't, but I would have, had I not been so pissed off."
Salazar laughed harshly. "You are a fool to run from your destiny."
Harry's eyebrow arched. "And what would YOU know of destiny and running?"
Before Salazar could reply, the bell rang loudly, signaling the start of first period. Sighing, Harry motioned the quartet inside, inwardly cursing life for all the curve balls it threw him. He'd deal with the founders later. First priority was passing his drama presentation, the topic of which he hadn't yet picked. His drama teacher, Ms Smith, apparently sensed his un-preparedness.
"Why don't you start off the presentations that are worth 10% of your final mark, Mister Potter?"
Harry groaned as he slowly stood up, ignoring the founders, who were in hysterics over the pencil sharpener. This was going to be a LONG day.
To be continued . . .
A/N: Well? Whatcha think? I wasn't really sure how to proceed with this story, but I think I've hit upon a way. Harry and the founders will hang at Stonewall for a while, but they will re-enter the wizarding world soon, so don't worry! REVIEW!
The Power Within
Chapter Two – Stonewall High
Harry ran. And ran. As far as his exhausted body could take him away from the house that had been a living hell the first eleven years of his life, and now held a quartet who Harry feared above all else. They offered him power, knowledge, a way to kill the man who'd plagued his dreams for five years. . . but at what cost? When he'd turned over his wand and walked away from the wizarding world six months ago, he'd meant every harsh word he'd exchanged with Hogwarts' esteemed Headmaster. He was DONE with magic, DONE with standing by helplessly as friends died, and he was DONE with being the Boy-who-lived. And no time-travelling, super-powerful, gift-bearing quartet were going to weaken his resolve.
"Just where do you think you're going, young man?" a stern voice snapped suddenly. Harry, taken by surprise, crashed right into the owner of the voice, sending them both sprawling. Hastily pushing himself upright, Harry reached down and, wincing, helped the person he'd crashed into to their feet.
"Well well, it seems Salazar was wrong. You DO have some manners, hmm?" the person remarked, and Harry, recognizing her as Rowena Ravenclaw, jerked away. Backing away from the blue-clad woman, Harry took deep breaths, slowing his racing heartbeat, and slowly took in his surroundings.
He'd apparently made it all the way to Thorn Street, before he'd encountered Ravenclaw and had been sent sailing into Crabapple Park. Harry'd been to the park occasionally – it was only a block from his new muggle school, Stonewall – and noted without much thought the beaten-down swings and broken slide that were a typical feature of parks in his neighborhood.
"Much more respectful now, eh?" a deep, masculine voice rang out from behind Harry, and he spun around to discover Gryffindor lazily leaning against the slide, chocolate eyes twinkling.
"You!" Harry demanded. "What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with you!" He now noticed the other two founders he'd previously missed – Slytherin was lying on a low stone wall, propped up by his elbow, and Hufflepuff was standing next to the man, beaming. Why wouldn't people just leave him alone?
"You are Harry Potter, lad. You're destined for greatness, whether you like it or not." Ravenclaw stated, taking a step towards Harry.
"Argh! Enough with the bloody mind reading already! I don't care about being your heir, I don't care about whatever powers you want to give me, and I don't care about being the boy-who-lived! Go give your powers to someone who wants them! I've tried playing the hero and look how that turned out!"
"Don't you raise your voice to me!" Ravenclaw snapped, apparently the voice of the group. "You're our heir, and you'll like it!"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "I don't want your powers, and I never will. You're wasting your time, I'm afraid." With that, Harry turned and stalked towards the street, but was cut off by Gryffindor, who blocked his way. "Would you get out of my way?" Harry snapped irritably. "I'm tired, pissed off, and have an English essay due tomorrow I haven't started yet. Don't mess with me."
The founders exchanged a glance. Harry, satisfied they finally got the idea, side-stepped around Gryffindor and continued down Thorn Street. He only stopped when he realized the quartet were following him. He rounded on them furiously. "Ahh! I told you I don't want your dumb powers! When will you leave me alone?"
"When you agree to accept the powers." Helga explained cheerfully. "Until then, we'll follow you to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
"Or do something stupid," Slytherin added. Harry clenched his fists, trying desperately not to attack these arrogant, annoying people who wouldn't leave him alone. Why wouldn't they just let him go back to his miserable existence in peace? With a sigh, Harry sank down to the sidewalk.
"Fine," he snapped irritably. "Follow me all you like, but it won't do any good. I'm too stubborn for my own good, just ask Hermione, she'll tell you . . ." Bad idea. Thinking about Hermione brought up feelings of guilt for leaving the wizarding world to fend for itself. New topic. "Just out of interest, how did you find me?"
Ravenclaw beamed. "I knew it! You're interested in learning to use your powers!"
Harry glared at her. "I am not! Are you saying you used some weird power to find me?"
"But of course, boy! As a telepath, I simply located your mind, planted a mental tracking device of sorts, and just followed it to you."
Harry sighed. "I suppose this means I can't hide or get away from you four, right?"
Slytherin smirked. "There is that, yes. Of course, you could just accept the powers, and we'd leave you alone." Harry was tempted for a moment, before mentally hitting himself. Don't give in! It appeared the resistance thing wasn't working. Well, he'd just have to try something else, wouldn't he?
A brilliant idea suddenly struck Harry.
"Fine," he said nonchalantly. "Stick around if you like. I'm going home, to bed, so save your speeches for tomorrow."
Hufflepuff smiled. "Does that mean you'll listen to our words tomorrow?"
Harry grinned. "Who knows? All I know is that you four are going to have run away screaming by the end of tomorrow, and I'll be free to live in peace."
Gryffindor arched an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
"You obviously know nothing about modern times, sir. Tomorrow I'm going to HIGH SCHOOL. MUGGLE high school, no less. If you can survive a day there, then you're braver than I give you credit for. Night." Satisfied, Harry darted off into the night, contemplating a life free of guilt, free of death, and free of these annoying, extremely respected and important people who just wouldn't leave him alone.
Godric turned to Rowena in confusion. "High school? Is that supposed to scare us?"
Slytherin shrugged. "I suspect we're about to find out."
.::.
". . . and take the trash out too, boy! You forget to do it again, and you won't get food for a week!" Uncle Vernon bellowed after Harry as he dashed out the front door, dodging a dishtowel Aunt Petunia had swatted at him with. "Dinner's at six, boy, so don't be late, or you won't be getting any! I don't know why we bother with him, Petunia, he shouldn't even be here now, he should be at that freak school . . ."
Sighing, Harry hoisted his old, mangled backpack onto his shoulder, grabbed the garbage can and dragged it down to the end of the driveway. Checking his watch, Harry muffled a frustrated curse. He was going to be late for school again! Today, of all days, when he had a Drama presentation first period! And to top it all off, as Harry trudged back up the driveway, he spotted four figures crossing the lawn towards him, two wearing ornate, frilly dresses that could only mean one thing – the Founders' arrival hadn't been a figment of his imagination.
"Still here, are you?" he demanded half-heartedly as he pulled out his key, unlocked the door of a rusty old Ford Anglia and climbed in. He'd bought the car for ten pounds off a next-door neighbor when it broke down "beyond repair", but after the gaining of a driver's license and a quick visit to Harry's shop teacher at school, the car was now in fairly-decent working condition. He stuck the key in the ignition and prepared to back out of the driveway when he realized the quartet were standing a good ten feet away from the car with fearful expressions on their faces.
"What's wrong?" Harry inquired in interest as Hufflepuff squeaked and hid behind Gryffindor, who patted her shoulder comfortingly, although he too seemed nervous.
"Harry," Ravenclaw stated in tones of forced calm. "I want you to stay perfectly still. We four will stun the beast on the count of three, and you will hopefully be able to jump out of its mouth without sustaining too much damage."
Harry stared. They thought his car was a . . . beast? And that he had been, what?, eaten by it? Actually, he reflected, that made a lot of sense, coming from four people who'd lived a millennia ago.
"Three, two, one, STUPEFY!" the four shouted, and the car rocked on it's tires slightly as the four jets of light struck it's side. Ravenclaw stared in disbelief, apparently under the belief the "beast" was still alive. "Again! STUPE-"
"STOP!" Harry yelled, jumping out of the car and standing protectively in front of his ride. "Don't curse my car! It's not alive, it's just made out of metal, see?" He rapped on the door to prove his point, but the quartet weren't listening.
"Harry, my lad, step away from the beast," Gryffindor commanded. "You may be attached to it, but you can't keep magical creatures in a muggle village. At least let us stun it so it doesn't attack you!"
Harry closed his eyes wearily. The day hadn't started yet, and already he was on the verge of exploding from frustration. "Listen, oh great Founders, this is the Twentieth Century. We have something here called 'technology', and this 'beast' is a product of technology. It's made of metal . . . er . . . iron?, and it's most definitely NOT alive."
"You mean it won't attack us?" Hufflepuff inquired, hesitantly approaching the car.
"NO," Harry repeated. "It's completely inanimate. It's just a . . . a . . . a wagon! Like a wagon, except it moves by itself, using 'technology', like I said before."
The other three founders followed Hufflepuff to the car, and began poking and prodding it suspiciously with their wands. "You sit in it, then?" Ravenclaw asked in fascination. "And it moves? Without horses?"
"YES," Harry insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to school." He opened the door and climbed inside, turned the key and started the engine. "I'll see you later . . . or not . . ." For as Harry turned on the car, the founders had discovered how to operate the door handles and had taken a seat in the back.
"You can't get in my car!" he protested.
"And why not?" Ravenclaw demanded crisply.
"Because I'm going to school! You can't come to school? I was joking last night!"
"Well, we're coming whether you like it or not, young man. Start your invisible horses, and we can go to your Tall School, or whatever you called it."
"HIGH school," Harry replied irritably. "What are you going to do, pretend to be students or something?"
Hufflepuff suddenly started bouncing up and down, shaking the whole car. "Oh! Can we? That would be SO much fun!"
"If it will get you to be quiet," Slytherin snapped at the ecstatic woman, who ignored him as if she were used to his rude demeanor. Which she probably was.
"Fine." Ravenclaw agreed. "We will pose as students at Harry's school, so we can watch him throughout the day. Glamour spells on the count of three, please. One, two, three . . ."
Harry, half-turned in his seat, watched in awe as the four middle-aged people transformed into younger, more attractive versions of themselves. Their clothes had changed as well, he noticed, and what were once 10th century garments were now low-rise jeans (for the girls) and baggy cargo pants (for the guys). Harry almost choked; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd be in the same car as Rowena Ravenclaw, with her wearing a halter-top. And, worse, she was hot!
Ugh! The woman was a thousand years old! Mind out of the gutter, Harry told himself firmly. Turning resolutely forward, Harry sped off towards Stonewall High, doing his best to ignore the shrieks of terror from the back seat. Finally, five ear splitting minutes later, the crowded Ford Anglia pulled into the pot-hole filled drive of Stonewall High School, the local comprehensive.
The founders stared in awe at the large, square, brick building adults called school and children called prison. "Look at the tiny stone blocks it's made of!" Ravenclaw gasped. "I've never seen that type of rock before!"
"It's called brick," Harry supplied as he got out of the car. Opening the door for Ravenclaw, he couldn't help but laugh as she fell face-first onto the cement sidewalk. Well, honestly, it was her fault for transfiguring her shoes into six-inch stilettos! "Easy there, Miss Ravenclaw . . ." he said as Gryffindor gallantly helped the flustered woman to her feet.
Slytherin glanced up at the building with distaste. "Pah. It's not so big. Doesn't hold a candle to Hogwarts."
Harry laughed. "I should take you to New York, then. One glance at the Empire State Building, and you'll be singing a different tune."
"I do not sing," Slytherin informed him icily. "Nor do I dance. That is for pompous prats like Godric to do." Harry shrugged. The man was really starting to annoy him; he was too much like Snape for Harry's taste.
"This is my school, Stonewall High." Harry informed the quartet. "If you really want to . . . er . . . attend school, you'll have to register in the office. Just before you do that, though, I'd like to make a last ditch attempt to have you go away and leave me alone."
"No time." Ravenclaw snapped. "The day is young, and there is much to do. Besides, boy, we're staying whether you like it or not."
Enraged, Harry began hotly, "First of all, my name is not Boy, it's HARRY. And secondly-"
"Secondly," Gryffindor interrupted. "You will address us by our given names; Godric, Rowena, Salazar, and Helga."
"None of this 'Miss Ravenclaw' nonsense." Rowena snapped. Harry was going to argue, but a quick glance at his watch told him he had ten minutes till homeroom started.
"You know what? Fine. Come with me, I'll point out the office, but then I have to get to class." As Harry swept away, the founders easily fell into step behind him, taking in the behavior of 20th century teenagers with awe, amusement, and sometimes disgust. Helga was especially amused by a congregation of punks – complete with hot-pink mohawks – smoking small cylinders that made a few of them cough rather sickeningly every few seconds. Rowena's nose wrinkled with distaste, and muttered something about giving them detention if she were headmaster of the school.
As they ascended the front steps, Harry decided an impromptu tour was in need. Seated cross-legged in the middle of the stairs was a brown eyed and haired girl, wearing dull clothes that had been in fashion about ten years ago. She stared blankly into space, unmoving, humming a tuneless song, hands folded neatly in her lap. The founders gaped at her.
"Is that girl quite alright?" Rowena demanded of Harry, who shrugged.
"No one really knows, to tell you the truth. Her name is Carla Simmons, and as long as anyone can remember she's been sitting in that exact spot, unmoving. Even the administration doesn't know why she's here; rumor has it she was expelled five years ago for some unknown reason, and now sits there day after day as she plans out her revenge."
Four pairs of eyebrows raised.
"That seems a tad . . . farfetched," said Godric. Harry laughed.
"Yeah, well, if you think SHE's weird, wait till you meet the rest of the school."
They continued into the building, stopping at the office so Rowena could register herself and her three companions. As it turned out, Rowena managed to get them assigned to the same classes as Harry took, meaning he was stuck with them the ENTIRE day.
"Figures you'd pull a trick like that." Harry grumbled as he led the group to homeroom, which also happened to be his Drama class. "Oh, stop here! We need to see the Baron about some lockers for you four."
"Lockers?" Helga questioned.
"When you get your books and things," Harry explained. "You'll need somewhere to put them. Ah, here we go." He led them through a set of swinging doors, down a dirty staircase, and into an alcove just beside the base of the stairs. Inside the alcove was a rather sinister looking boy seated comfortably on a large red armchair, who was eating what looked like a turkey leg.
"Umm . . . hi?" Godric offered, but thankfully Harry took charge.
"This is Steve Winston, known around Stonewall as the Locker Baron."
"Pleased to meet you," Baron Steve said regally, waving a hand pompously. "Here for more lockers, Potter? I recently acquired some excellent real estate up by the science pod hallway, you interested?"
Harry waved the boy off. "No thanks, Baron. My friends need a locker, though."
The boy wiped his spectacles and shifted forward on his armchair. "New students, eh? Well, the science pod lockers need to be filled, so what are you wanting? Three lockers apiece? I could get you some nice ones down by the gym if you like – just won them in a bet off Lord Brian."
"Lord Brian was the former Locker Baron of the school," Harry explained, fully aware of how ridiculous the whole situation was. Then again, the students of Stonewall were muggles, which would explain a lot in Harry's opinion. "Baron Steve just recently won the whole 200 series of lockers off him, and is eager to have them filled. Mainly to assert his rule over the lockers in the school, but also just to hack Brian off."
The quartet stared at the two boys. "Er . . .just one locker will be fine, thanks . . ." Rowena said hesitantly. The Baron beamed at Rowena, who looked rather bewildered.
"Excellent! Four lockers, then. I'll call you for your payment later. Good day."
"That means we're dismissed," Harry supplied, dragging the quartet into one of the more trafficked areas of the school. Rowena rounded on him furiously.
"How can you attend this . . . this . . . madhouse! You gave up magic and Hogwarts for THIS?"
"Thank you," Harry returned, equally angry, "but I don't need you questioning how I run my life! I chose this place for my own reasons, and even if it is a bit . . . strange, I like it! Now come on, class is starting!"
Harry strode furiously off down the hall, the time-travelers trailing behind him. Helga sighed. "That boy is as stubborn as you, Godric. I'm starting to think he'll never accept the powers!"
"Of course he will," Salazar snapped. "The boy isn't stupid; he'll come around eventually."
"Definitely." Rowena agreed immediately. "Don't fret, Helga. Harry knows just as well as we do that he belongs at Hogwarts." They stopped outside a classroom door, which bore the numbers 146 on a small panel. Harry took a deep breath.
"Well, here goes nothing . . ."
Godric eyed him. "You can't run forever, you know."
Harry shrugged. "That's what Dumbledore said."
"Then he's a smart man."
"Smartest man I know. But do you know what I told him?"
"What?"
"I said that I may not be able to run forever, but I will do whatever takes to run for as long as I can. I may not be able to escape my destiny, but I can damn well try."
Godric frowned. "I somehow doubt you said that."
Harry shrugged again. "No, I didn't, but I would have, had I not been so pissed off."
Salazar laughed harshly. "You are a fool to run from your destiny."
Harry's eyebrow arched. "And what would YOU know of destiny and running?"
Before Salazar could reply, the bell rang loudly, signaling the start of first period. Sighing, Harry motioned the quartet inside, inwardly cursing life for all the curve balls it threw him. He'd deal with the founders later. First priority was passing his drama presentation, the topic of which he hadn't yet picked. His drama teacher, Ms Smith, apparently sensed his un-preparedness.
"Why don't you start off the presentations that are worth 10% of your final mark, Mister Potter?"
Harry groaned as he slowly stood up, ignoring the founders, who were in hysterics over the pencil sharpener. This was going to be a LONG day.
To be continued . . .
A/N: Well? Whatcha think? I wasn't really sure how to proceed with this story, but I think I've hit upon a way. Harry and the founders will hang at Stonewall for a while, but they will re-enter the wizarding world soon, so don't worry! REVIEW!