Summary: Harry fuses with the Haunter of the Dark and is raised by the wizard who rescues him. (Wizard as in HP Lovecraft wizard, that is!)
Disclaimer: I own naught.
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Pre-fic Comments:
All latin can be considered 'doggy latin', in that I don't know Latin and am trying to fake it.
Some adult language in this. Having a good knowledge of canon proceedings would be a good idea, as I skip a bit of detail later on.
* * *
"Rise - from the ashes and decay
Rise - from the prison of belief
Rise - from the standards and the norm
Rise - into the eye of the storm!
RISE!"
-Risen, KMFDM
* * *
Ma Baker looked at the three boys in front of her. They'd gotten back from the shopping trip, and she wanted to hand some advice to them.
"Now, boys, I've never been to a boarding school but you hear things about them. So Satanus, Harry, every evening, you two are gonna come over and we're going to show you how to defend yourself and the basics of using a weapon."
Mr Brooks looked uneasy about something, and added some advice. "Don't let anyone touch you in wrong ways, you know what I mean? Satanus, if anyone tries anything you go straight to Old Wizard Harris."
"What?," Harry asked, perplexed.
Harris and Mr Brooks looked at each other uneasily.
"Oh, for Hell's sake!," Ma Baker sighed. "He means you don't let anyone try and fuck you. Kick 'em in the nads -- hard -- and run a'yellin' to Old Harris."
"Ohhh," Tim said. "That."
Bill Baker, second oldest Baker boy, had been paging through one of the new books. _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. He'd just learnt Harry's parents' name.
"Ma! Ma!," Bill yelled as he spotted something. "Harry's Godfather's in the big house!"
"What?," Ma Baker said. "Hand me that book."
Everyone crowded around. They'd all heard about Pa Baker, who was currently in prison, and they'd all heard about Great Aunt Sally, who had just been sentenced in court.
"Sirius Black," Mr Brooks mused. "Wasn't he in the news ten years ago or so? Killed fourteen people at once, blew up a street and survived."
All the Bakers looked at Harry.
"That is /sooooo/ cool," Robert said, voicing their collective thoughts.
"Can we do a jailbreak, Ma?," Bill asked. "I've never seen a wizard prison."
"We'll have to practice on their banks, first," Ma said. "These wizard folks seem to be loaded."
"Please," Mr Brooks protested. "Feel free to plan, but not in front of me!"
"Ha!," Harris snorted. "This coming from the man known as Lord Hellfire, who thinks the US Secret Service really should improve their computer security?"
* * *
A month later, Ma Baker thought she'd about figured out how to break into Gringotts Bank. It was time for the three boys to leave before anything could happen, though.
All nine people had piled into the Bakers' old van. It was a squeeze, with four trunks as well. At Kings Cross, Ma Baker pressganged her eldest children to help pile the trunks onto some trolleys. They moved through the complex, then hit a brick wall.
"Where in blazes is Platform Nine and Three Quarters?," Mr Brooks asked.
There was a brick wall linking Nine and Ten, but no Platform 9 3/4.
"Are you going to Hogwarts?," a short, stout woman with red hair asked.
"Some of our boys are," Ma Baker said. "I'm Ma Baker."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs Baker," the woman said. "I'm Mrs Weasley."
"About this Platform...," Mr Brooks trailed off.
"Run through the wall there," Mrs Weasley said. "Percy, you show them."
Her eldest boy there ran through. Oddly, he didn't bounce off the bricks painfully but rather went through.
"Oh!," Satanus said. "A hologram!"
The twins with red hair looked at him funny. "Are you Muggleborn? It's an illusion."
"Fred, be nice," their mother admonished.
"Mum, I'm George," the maligned thirteen year old protested.
"Sorry, George. George, be nice to them."
"Actually, I'm Fred after all."
"Thanks for the help," Harris said. "We'll just move on."
The nine of them walked through the illusionary wall, only to find a regrettably memoriable face.
"YOU!"
Lucius Malfoy turned around, to find the muggles and mudbloods that had beaten him black and blue. Explaining those injuries to Narcissa and Draco had been very difficult.
"Mudbloods," the blonde man sneered.
Robert pulled out the meter long prybar. "You want more of the same?"
Mr Malfoy ignored the nine, turning to his son. "Draco, I expect you to act in a manner befitting a Malfoy. If you do not, be assured I will find out."
"Arse," Harris muttered as he pulled his trunk onto the train, the boys right behind him.
"Now, Albert, set a good example for the children," Ma Baker scolded, firmly in 'maternal' mode. Harry suspected it was due to meeting that other woman, Mrs Weasel or whatever her name had been.
"Tim, you can have this," Robert said once they'd tucked the trunks away in a compartment. The nineteen year old handed the cast iron prybar to his eleven year old brother. "You know what to do if that asshole's son gives you trouble."
"Sure," Tim said. "Beat his head in while Harry and Satanus hold him down."
"Now, you're the first Baker to ever go to boarding school, so don't embarass us," Ma Baker lectured.
"Okay, Ma," Tim said resignedly.
"Satanus, the same goes for you," Mr Brooks said. He handed a large bag of sweets to his son. "These are for you to share out."
Ma Baker and Mr Brooks gave their respective children a hug, then got off the train. The horn sounded, then the locomotive began to pull away from the station.
* * *
To pass the time, the four of them were discussing their plans for Hogwarts. Uncle Harris still had his oldfashioned suit on.
"What do you have planned for the future?," Harry asked Tim.
The boy's eyes glittered with avarice. "I'm going to live as the richest man in the world, what else? No one is gonna look down on the Bakers any more."
"That's useless," Harry argued. "Power is better. With power you can take money."
"With money you can buy power!"
"You're both wrong," Satanus interrupted. "Knowledge /is/ power. I'm going to know more than anyone else."
"The actual answer is a mixture of all three attributes," Uncle Harris said. "Knowledge, power, and resources. Along with ambition and drive, of course."
"Speaking of power," Harry said, "can I do that familiar spell yet?"
"Familiar?," Satanus asked. "Some kind of magical companion beast?"
"Not quite," Harris said. "At least, that's not all of it. You can use familiars in Ritual magic, and they can add their own energy to a spell you're casting. It's also possible to possess them."
"Cool," Tim said. "Can you teach us this stuff?"
Harry smirked. "The first years are only going to get /basic/ lessons. But Uncle Harris said he'd keep teaching me advanced stuff in the evenings."
"Dammit," Satanus muttered. Something occured to him. "Hey, does anyone know if this magic school has electricity?"
All three people looked at him like he had turned into a three headed dog.
"You've got to be /joking/," Tim said. "Even Great Aunt Sally's shack in the Appalachians has electricity, and that's thirty miles away from the nearest farmhouse."
The hacker's son blushed. "You're right, you're right."
"These wizards aren't right in the head though," Uncle Harris said, "so they might not. I mean, who'd use a blasted /owl/ to send their mail?"
"Something about that Headmaster was pretty off," Harry agreed.
"If my laptop or stereo don't work, heads are gonna roll," Satanus threatened. While the stereo was an old one that he'd been given by a friend, the laptop was given to him by his father.
The compartment door slid open, showing the silvery-blonde haired son of the man that they'd beaten up in Knockturn alley. Two very stocky and dim looking boys were behind him. Tim reached for the prybar.
"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment," Draco Malfoy drawled. "Which one of you is Potter?"
"Me," Harry said. "That's my old name."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "LaVelle? Adopted, are you?"
Uncle Harris got up. "My name is Albert Harris LaVelle and I adopted him. If you want to stay here, you'd better speak fast and prove you're not like your bigoted father, or else you'll get what he got."
The blonde boy looked up and down the old, suited man insolently. "The Muggle professor? I heard about you from my Father. Merlin, they really do let anyone into Hogwarts these days."
Draco turned to Harry, extending a hand. "You don't want to go making friends with the /wrong sort/. I can help you there."
The red eyed boy regarded Draco. "Yes, as a perfect example of the wrong sort."
Draco, already possessed of a naturally pale complexion, went even paler at the insult. "I'd be careful if I were you. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents."
Satanus pulled a box with two metal probes from his pocket. Quick as lightning, he poked Draco with the prongs and pushed a button on the box. The scion of the House of Malfoy fell to the ground, shaking rather badly. His two goons behind him stepped backwards uneasily.
"Unless you boys want the same, I suggest you take your butt buddy there and drag him to you den," Tim hissed.
"Er, what's a butt buddy? And what was that thing?," one of them asked unsurely.
Harry, Tim, and Satanus exchanged incredulous looks. Surely no one was this stupid?
"I'm not sure I should tell you something so powerful...," Uncle Harris trailed off. There was a nasty glint in his eye.
"Tell me!," the stupider of the two demanded.
"Get out!," Tim snarled, taking a new grip on the prybar.
They got. Uncle Harris began teaching Tim and Satanus the basics of Ritual Magic to pass the time.
* * *
Once they reached the train station for Hogwarts, it was getting rather dark. All the students in the other years moved in one direction, while the first years were beckoned by a very large man with a beard like a thorn bush.
"Boys, I'll see you once we get there," Uncle Harris said. "I've got to go with the others, see?"
"Okay," Harry said.
"Firs' years!," the huge man bellowed. "Firs' years over here!"
The man introduced himself as Hagrid, Keeper of the Grounds and Keys. The three boys obediently followed with the other first years. The first years were led from the train station to a path going through a forest. All of them resolutedly city dwellers, they didn't like the narrow little trail that they had to follow the man down, nor did they like the rampant wildlife.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the man said. "Jus' around this bend here."
"Yay," Harry said. "If this is what their garden is like, I can't /wait/ to see the rest."
Once they got through the forest, they saw Hogwarts for the first time. All three were impressed with the imposing architecture. A fleet of small boats rose from the water, and they took passage in them over the lake in front of Hogwarts, disembarking to enter the large complex. A stern faced woman who reminded Harry of his old English teacher took over from Hagrid, telling them to wait for her to call them in the small room where they were left.
Once the woman left, all the new students began speculating on how they'd be sorted into the four Houses of Hogwarts. Harry and his two friends remained silent, as they had no idea. Obviously, they'd probably be sorted according to personality if the House descriptions were anything to go by, but none of them knew /how/ they'd be sorted.
A red haired boy said that his older brother reported that it hurt a lot, and a bushy haired girl that Draco picked on was worrying about all the spells she'd read about, and which one she'd need to demonstrate. Draco and his friends all looked very confident, but Harry was sure they were silent for the same reason as he was.
Then something happened that caused Harry to jump a foot in the air -- several kids screamed. Everyone turned to see what had happened.
Twenty ghosts had streamed through the back wall. They were transparent, and pearly white. The spectres were gliding across the floor, argueing, hardly paying any attention to the new entrants. The topic of argumentation seemed to be a ghost called 'Peeves'.
"New students!," one of the more observant ghosts said. He appeared to have been a friar in life, and was rather rotund. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
Normally Satanus would have a smart remark to shoot back, but he was rather unsettled by the apparitions. A few of the students from magical families nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!," the fat friar said. "My old House, you know!"
"Puff the magic dragon, lived by the sea," Satanus trailed off nastily. Harry and Tim laughed evilly. None of them wanted to be in Hufflepuff!
"Move along now," the woman from before, Professor McGonagall said. Harry hadn't noticed her return. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start. Now form a line and follow me."
They followed her into the Great Hall. Hundreds of students were sitting at four tables, with thousands of candles and a few ghosts mixed in with them. A table at the head of the other four tables had the teachers at it, except for Professor McGonagall. The woman put a wooden stool in front of the first years, and put a pointed wizard's hat on top of that.
After a brief moment of silence, Tim Baker spoke up. "Damn, that's one dirty hat."
He was immediately hushed by the Professor. A large rip opened up near the brim, and the hat began to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
Harry looked on in stunned disbelief. He'd expected some sort of test, or an evaluation by a counsellor. A hat was going to sort him?!
These fancy wizards were mad.
"When I call your name," McGonagall said, " you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"
A blonde, pigtailed girl stumbled forwards and put on the hat. A moment later, the hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Next was "Baker, Tim!"
The son of the bank robber shuffled forwards and put on the ratty looking hat. After half a minute, it yelled "SLYTHERIN!" at the top of it's... well, not lungs, but very loudly, anyway. A few more first years were next, and after Brocklehurst, Amanda...
"Brooks, Satanus!"
The hacker's son stepped forwards nervously, putting on the hat. Harry and Tim watched nervously as the Sorting Hat shouted out "SLYTHERIN!" after half a minute.
Harry dozed off, listening absently for his name. He ignored the students being sorted for the moment -- he really didn't care where /they/ went. It came as quite a surprise when "Potter, Harry!"
"Er, what do you mean?," Harry said. "My name's been changed to Harry Harris LaVelle."
McGonagall looked quite thrown off her stride. "No it hasn't!"
Uncle Harris, who Harry hadn't noticed at the head table, got up and handed Professor McGonagall a small black book.
"The English Government and this passport say otherwise," the old man said.
Professor McGonagall took a moment to look over the official passport. The Great Hall was suddenly filled with noise, as students began argueing.
"SILENCE!," the Professor said. "Well, this looks correct. LaVelle, Harry!"
Having corrected the mistake, Harry sauntered to the Sorting Hat and put it on.
"Hmmm," said a small voice in his ear. Harry could only assume it was the Hat. "What have we here? Rather easy to sort... a thirst for power, not a bad mind, determination... It'd better be SLYTHERIN!"
The hat shouted the last word out to the rest of the Hall. Almost everyone was in an uproar when Harry Pott-ah, Harry LaVelle was put in Slytherin. The Boy-Who-Lived in Voldemort's house! As Harry walked to the correct table, he noticed that half the Slytherins were clapping and the others were looking at him with interest. He sat down between Tim and Satanus, as they'd left a space between them for him.
"I was worried we'd get split up," Satanus said. "I didn't want to have to deal with the Three Stooges by myself."
A prefect hushed him up, as the Sorting continued. Once 'Zabini, Blaise!' was sorted into Slytherin, McGonagall took the Hat and the stool away.
Headmaster Dumbledore got to his feet at the head table with his arms open wide. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
The students clapped and cheered as the elderly man sat down. Harry honestly didn't know if the man was mad or not, and if their expressions were anything to go by, Tim and Satanus didn't either. Draco Malfoy, who had also been Sorted into Slytherin, clearly thought that Dumbledore was mad.
"Is he... a bit mad?," Harry asked the prefect who had hushed Satanus.
"Mad as a hatter," the prefect confirmed. "Some say he's the best wizard in the world, but he is mad. Now leave me alone, I want my tea."
All three boys blinked, surprised, as food began to appear magically on the plates in front of them. Potatoes, roast beef, roast chicken, sausages, fries, vegetables, and half a million other different foods and condiments. For some weird reason, there were also peppermints.
Uncle Harris, Ma Baker, and Mr Brooks had never starved their children but they'd also never had the money to be extravagant with their budget. They all took a bit of everything, except for the peppermints. Satanus put a handful of the peppermints in his pocket for later, however.
When everyone had had their fill, the food disappeared from the plates, leaving them sparklingly clean. The dessert appeared in the same manner as the previous course after that, in just as much variety if not more. Being eleven, they all piled their plates with sugary goodness.
Harry looked up at the head table to see Uncle Harris, to see that his uncle was alright. The old man was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. The teacher on Uncle Harris' other side had a turban on, and had also joined the conversation.
The greasy haired teacher abruptly turned his head, looking directly at Harry with a thoughtful expression. As the man turned his head back to Harry's guardian, a stab of pain shot through the peculiar scar on his forehead.
Why had that happened?
* * *
Post Fic Comments:
I'm being a kind soul and actually posting something. I'm sure that only two people will /read/ this, but please enjoy it nonetheless.