a/n: Sorry about the wait! I hope you'll all keep reading even though it's been such a long time.
Responses (a lot of them)!
Potterfanforever: Longer chapters? Well, I'll try, they're steadily at around 3000 words for now, but I promise I'll try to get them a little longer than that. As for playing dumb, trust me, he will, it wouldn't be very smart to advertise the fact that he has all of Voldemort's memories.
Woflzmasterz: I won't forget about Molls, she's too cool. As for being a witch, well, you never know…
Padfoot's Fire: Well, she's a bit in denial about the deaths, and as for the fight and being beaten up, it's nothing she isn't used to. Being on the street subjected her to a lot of that, also, coming from her family background, she was abused by her father, so the only traumatic part of the ordeal was the deaths and she isn't quite facing that. Plus, she's seeing Harry, who she hasn't seen in a long time!
Shadowed Rains: Fifty years of memories is quite a bit, isn't it? Well, he doesn't exactly remember what Voldemort doesn't remember, I mean, he's not going to really remember the child years. Hopefully a bit of what happens in this chapter will explain more of how the memories work. They're there, but not quite there… That's why Sirius hasn't been cleared yet!
Linwe Amandil: Aw, I'm glad you thought it was touching. It does seem as if he's going to be dark… well, he isn't the same Harry he would have been if he had stayed with the Dursley's, he's had a rough life, probably worse than what Voldemort himself lived.
D.T.F: Well, we'll hear more about them. Remember that Molls was busy in her own fighting and didn't get an accurate view of everything! But that's all I'm going to say about that!
Rosiegirl: It does come off a bit like unfinished business, doesn't it? Well, we'll see, he'll be able to make amends somehow.
Japanese-jew: Yeah, when I was thinking of who to make the man Harry met (that's why I didn't introduce him right away) I thought about Sirius, my favorite character, and then I thought about one of the few other Blacks that were supposed to be "good." I'm pretty sure Sirius said he was dead (something about an inheritance), but well, that's why it's AU. I hope you like this story as much as you liked the other one with Alphard!
Thanks as well to: Anime Monster¸ The Great Morgoth, Charms Charlie, DebsTheSnapeFanNow, shadow of the black abyss, manny2003, mental.girl.on.sugar, HarrySlytherinson, azntgr01, VainFirechild-EverSoVain, knuckz, Lightsaber209, Sarah R Potter, and DesiDude.
Sorry again about how long it took for me to get this chapter up. And remember, review! If you give me a long review with suggestions or questions, I'll make sure to give you a response!
Chapter Five:
Rushing was one word for what Harry was so aptly doing at the moment. If you wanted to have a fuller idea of his actions, you could say he was hurrying, or pacing with all due haste, or simply moving his arse as quickly as possible to Platform 9 and ¾. All of his concerns and thoughts were pushed aside by one thing: if he missed the train to Hogwarts, Alphard would kill him. No—not kill him, torture him. He figured his belongings could be shrunk and sent by owl, but he needed to get on that train!
Getting on the train wouldn't be Harry's problem; it was getting to the train before it left that would be difficult. Harry could apparate, but Platform 9 and ¾ is in the middle of a muggle train station.
'Oh well,' Harry thought to himself, 'what other options do I have?'
Harry, out of view, used his illegal wand to disillusion himself and the large snake that was draped around his neck. Once he was satisfied that the muggles wouldn't notice him he apparated to King's Crossing.
He didn't apparate into the middle of it—oh no, people would bump into him. He managed to appear beside several trashcans on the outside. He crouched, still unseen, behind the many garbage receptacles and removed the disillusionment charm from himself. He made sure to leave it on the snake, not many muggles would take well to seeing such a large snake on the eleven year old boy.
Harry casually stood up and brushed himself off behind the trashcans. He no longer dressed like a street urchin, but he still had the air of one, meaning many people looked at him scornfully. It was as though he was one of those boisterous kids that every good muggle family disliked.
Harry checked his watch again, it was 10:56. He let out a sigh of relief that he hadn't missed the train. He walked over to the area where Platform 9 and ¾ would be and stared at it, realizing he hadn't asked Alphard how he was supposed to get through. Was there a spell? Harry scrunched his eyebrows together in annoyance; this was taking too much time! Harry suddenly had the foggy memory of a young boy doing the same thing he was. The young boy wasn't late, but he was alone and did not like asking for help. The young boy ended up casually waiting a safe distance from the platform, he watched several people inconspicuously lean into the wall and disappear.
Harry shook himself out of the reverie. These strange memories kept popping up. The last time had been during a duel with Alphard. Harry had been losing and was being cornered into a wall. His memory was of a useful spell that Harry then attempted and successfully threw Alphard to the other side of the room. Needless to say, Harry didn't always trust the memories that he acquired, he planned, after that, to make sure to watch what the spell actually did before using it.
It seemed that these memories only came up when he really needed them. It was like his own memories; he'd need to be thinking of something that reminded him of what happened for them to appear. Whilst he had all of Voldemort's mind, so to speak, most of it needed something to trigger him to remember it.
Harry wanted to hit himself; he didn't have time to think! He followed what was done in the memory and slowly leaned into the wall. He found himself on Platform 9 and ¾. Immensely relieved, Harry rushed to the back of the train, he was moving quickly, but slowly enough to not attract peoples' attention. Harry looked at the back entrance to the train and stared at it, hoping for some sort of inspiration.
No time to be creative, he decided, and stepped up onto the train. He could have just stayed outside, holding onto the side of the train, but that wouldn't be very comfortable. Instead, Harry looked around for prying eyes and once sure that there were no people around, he cast several glamour charms on himself. He was now a blonde boy with short hair and a snub nose. He looked very prim, he joked to himself. He clicked open the lock to the back entrance of the train and walked inside to what must have been some sort of storage. Inside was an assortment of brooms and other supplies, perhaps for an emergency.
Harry made his way into the normal section of the train and searched for an empty compartment. None were empty and the train shuddered to a start and Harry was stuck in the hallway with nowhere to sit. Sighing, Harry made his way into a compartment with only two other people. A bushy haired girl with buckteeth and a nervous looking boy were sitting opposite each other. The bushy haired girl was talking and using wild hand motions as though trying to describe something. The other boy was nodding warily, but appeared to be thinking about other things.
When the girl appeared to take a moment to breathe, Harry slid open the door to the compartment slightly.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, trying to be polite, something he wasn't used to doing.
The boy looked over and nodded as if to say, go ahead.
The girl, after taking in his appearance, introduced herself as Hermione Granger, first year.
Harry smiled at her introduction and quickly thought of a name, "I'm Jon, I'm a first year too."
Harry internally winced at the first name that came to the top of his head. He decided to sit down next to Neville, as he seemed a lot less likely to hit him upside the head with his in-depth hand motions.
Eventually, Hermione subsided with her chattering about what she thought the sorting would be like, and she settled back down to read the Book of Spells Level 1. Harry almost snorted out loud at the title, but decided that overtly displaying his knowledge would be a bad thing to do. Harry settled back and thought out what he was going to do once they reached the school. He didn't have his robes, obviously, so he was going to have to pretend to leave and get his things and just not come back. He wouldn't be able to leave from the back of the train, because someone was bound to notice the door open, even if he made himself invisible. After thinking about it for a while, he realized he would have to wait for everyone to leave and get off the train last—hopefully before it started moving again. He presumed all of the means of transport would be gone by the time he got out, but he didn't mind, he could find another way to get there. He had… other ways of getting where he needed to go. Of course, walking into the great hall once everyone was already seated would be quite amusing.
Whilst Harry was planning things out, the boy next to him was fidgeting and going through his things. Eventually the boy sighed and deflated.
"Have either of you seen a toad?" He asked in a quiet boyish voice.
Harry was snapped out of his thoughts and he shook his head.
"A toad?" Hermione asked.
The boy nodded solemnly, "Trevor, he's my pet."
"Well, Neville," so that's what his name was, "I'll go around and ask people if they've seen him."
With that, Hermione got up and left the compartment.
"I'm sure he's around here somewhere," Neville sighed. "Where could he have gone?"
Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond, so he stayed silent. Instead, he looked out of the train window and watched the passing scenery.
Eventually Hermione returned saying she couldn't find him, but she was sure he'd turn up somewhere. Neville looked quite upset and stared out the window for the rest of the trip. Hermione went back to her book, and Harry wondered how he was going to send a letter to Alphard.
There was a warning saying there would be five minutes until they reached the station, and Harry excused himself saying he needed to get his robes to change.
He walked to the back of the train, in the storage room that he had been in before. He waited as he felt the train screech to a stop. He waited as he heard the chatter of the students as they walked off the train. He waited for a few minutes of silence. He opened the back door of the train a crack and looked out for any lingering people. No one. Just as he had decided to get off, the train started chugging into movement. There was no time to waste; he pulled the door all the way open and leaped off the moving train.
He rolled to a stop on the grass beside the station. Everything was going according to plan; well, maybe not, he accidentally left the back door of the train open and he could hear it swinging back and forth. Oh well. Harry looked towards the dirt road that led to Hogwarts. There was a large gate guarding the entrance, but that was no problem. He supposed it would be locked, but still, no problem.
Harry took off his glamour charms, and was glad at the moment that he had wand holsters and he kept both wands with him at all times. He would hate to show off his better wand, someone might take it away. He now looked like himself. At eleven, he was lean muscled, average height for someone that age, and had his same shaggy messy hair. But adding to his slightly wild appearance was the scars. He had many, many more than any other person his age. His were not the scars that normal children get, he didn't fall off his bike and scrape his knee, he was a street rat, and street rats get in fights. The most noticeable of his scars was of course the lightning bolt down his forehead. It refused to fade. He had many other deep unfading scars along his arms, some on his chest, and only a few on his legs.
Harry gazed at the impressive castle. He very much wanted to fit in there, but knew it was unlikely. He was too different, too renowned. Harry snapped out of his thoughts and concentrated for a moment.
Within seconds, where Harry Potter once stood was empty. He was gone.
Well, unless you had seen death before. Then perhaps you would see that where Harry Potter once stood, now stood a thestral. A black horse with large wings; people thought it to be a dark creature merely because those who could see it had seen death. The odd thing about this thestral was that, unlike its fellows, it had green eyes instead of the natural red. The horse pawed the ground and began to flap its wings until it picked up enough momentum to rise off the ground.
Harry loved his animagus form. It was the one magical endeavor that he didn't tell Alphard about. Alphard knew all about his research spells, the memories that popped up at the wrong times, his potion experiments, but this one thing, this was his secret. Harry flew gracefully towards the castle, not bothering to rush. He wanted to really cause a stir. That was the Marauder in him. He landed in front of the castle doors and changed back into his human form.
Harry brushed the dirt off of his long ratty grey coat, the one piece of clothing he kept from his life on the street. He had to keep it; it was the one thing that Jon really went out of his way to get him. Normally Harry shied away from the subject of Jon, but this was a memory of the happier times and he couldn't seem to let it go.
Harry finally pushed open the huge doors and walked through the empty entrance way. He could hear the chattering voices, but they abruptly went silent. Dumbledore was speaking.
"—Oddment, blubber, tweak." Was all of Dumbledore's speech that Harry heard as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
Suddenly, all eyes were fixed on the strange boy at the door. Harry was amused, but he tried not to let it show.
"Sorry about that, got a bit sidetracked," Harry finally spoke through the silence.
Dumbledore was staring at Harry with confusion and a little bit of relief. Meanwhile, the silence had ended, and all of the children were whispering to each other, trying to figure out who this mysterious person was.
Harry, realizing that nothing was going to be done in a timely manner, started walking up towards the head table.
"What are you doing here, filthy street urchin?" A hostile voice hissed.
Harry looked impassively at the speaker, a blonde boy with slicked back hair. He kept walking. Once again, the great hall was silent save for the catlike steps of a boy who had slipped through shadows all his life.
He stopped in front of the head table and looked at Dumbledore with an annoyed expectant look on his face.
Clearing his throat slightly, Dumbledore finally managed words, "Alas, we have one more sorting before you can begin your meal—Harry Potter."
Hearing this, Minerva McGonagall stumbled to her feet and retrieved the sorting hat from the side room.
Whilst she was getting the hat, Dumbledore spoke to Harry in a voice that only he and the teachers nearby could hear.
"Harry, would you please wait after the feast is over, I would like to speak to you alone."
Harry nodded, knowing what this was going to be about. At least he had time to prepare excuses.
McGonagall placed the hat on Harry's head—it seemed to fit right in with the rest of his shabby outfit. Harry waited patiently, sitting on the stool.
'Ah, Harry Potter,' a wizened voice spoke into his mind. 'I had hoped I would be seeing you soon.'
Harry was a little shocked and confused, but not outwardly so.
'Such an unusual mind,' the hat spoke, more to itself than to Harry. 'There are the memories and personalities of two different beings within you; different, yet parallel, so alike.'
'You have not lived a happy life, Harry Potter,' the hat continued. 'And yet, through your troubles, you remain pure of soul.'
'Your soul… it was broken, but the broken piece was replaced with that of a piece of another's soul. How curious.'
'I always knew Tom Riddle would go on to do amazing things. Not good, but still amazing. His mind was hungry for knowledge and power.'
'Not quite unlike yourself…'
Harry vaguely wondered how long he had been sitting with the hat atop his head.
'You already have the knowledge and power, unlike he had at your age.'
'Ah, but I've been sidetracked, I must choose a house; it has been a long time since I've delved into a person quite so extraordinary as yourself.'
'You seem to have many of the traits the houses look for. You are hungry for knowledge, but it is already there for you, waiting for you to find it in your mind, I'm afraid Ravenclaw would not do.'
'You are loyal and fair, as Hufflepuff would require, but you lack the patience that house would look for.'
'Slytherin… the house you seem to have a strong connection to. Perhaps that is because of the foreign soul residing in you. It is drawn to the house of Slytherin, but your personality, let's see… you're cunning and intelligent. You could be great there.'
'Gryffindor, the house of your parents. You are brave, like many Gryffindors. But something is missing—nobility. It seems that you, unlike a Gryffindor, would not hesitate to take a sneaky step necessary for getting what you wish for.'
'Perhaps, then, you must go to Slytherin.'
The Great Hall was silent. Dumbledore looked at the Boy-Who-Lived in wonder and slowly began to clap. Not long after, the other professors joined in, and eventually the entire student body was clapping, albeit somewhat hesitantly.
Harry removed the sorting hat and handed it to a flabbergasted McGonagall.
He slowly walked over to the Slytherin table and took a seat at the very end, he seemed unbothered by the fact that the students sitting near him began to scoot away. He simply began to eat the food that had magically appeared on the many platters on the table. He would think about what to say to Dumbledore and how to get his letter to Alphard after he had eaten—he was famished.
