Disclaimer: I forgot this last time, but I obviously don't own Harry Potter or any other characters I've used thus far. That privilege belongs to one J.K. Rowling. I do own some original spells though... if you ask nicely; I'll let you use them in your own fic.
All right, I left you hanging... and as far as I can tell 2 of the 3 people who read my story (that I know of) liked it, and that gives me hope. This chapter has been especially hard to write... took me all day (and night) to get the ideas to take form.
Crazy Canuck: thanks for the tip on the proper spelling of Gryffindor, I caught it too but didn't have time to fix it
HoshiHikari4ever: thanks for the support
Dbish403: I can understand you not wanting Harry to be evil... but don't worry he isn't really evil. Just please refrain from calling me a "sicko" and "evil" .... It's just a story.
Chapter 2: Lodging Issues
Harry apparated right into his old room at Number 4 Privet Drive. He knew he couldn't stay here long, as he had just broken out of prison. He knew once the Ministry found out he had escaped, this is one of the first places they would look.
He glanced up at his reflection in the mirror in his open wardrobe, and was shocked at the person he saw in the mirror. Of course, he realized it had been more than three years since he had seen his reflection. He was at least 6'6", his once untidy hair was now a great shaggy mane, and his face was so dirty that, had he not known he had a scar on his forehead, he couldn't have seen it. His shoulders had grown broad and his body powerful. He had obviously changed to suit his new magical power level.
He knew from a quick Legilimense scan that the house was empty. This was a bit suspicious, but he brushed it off and decided to take advantage of the empty house. He needed something to eat and a shower, and he knew he could probably magically modify his old robes to fit him. He was sure they were around here somewhere.
"Ahhh, my old trunk, I guess they sent it back here from Hogwarts. That is most convenient, now I wonder if my wand is in there." Harry thought aloud. His raspy voice startled him in the quiet of the house, but only for a moment, as he reminded himself, he hadn't spoken in more than three years.
He bent over his trunk and began pulling things out. Old school books, now useless to him, he had far surpassed anything in there. He pulled out some robes, several sizes too small. Well, I can fix that, he thought. Engorgio. The robes grew until they were the perfect size. He continued to rummage through his trunk, but alas, nothing there.
"Damn!" he hissed, "I should have known Dumbledore would have been clever enough to keep it. Well, it doesn't matter, I'll retrieve it from his office in due time."
Now, time for a cleaning, he thought as he headed towards the bathroom for a nice hot shower. Not until he got out of the shower did he realize how hungry he was. He dressed quickly in his old room and headed down the stairs for something to eat. He found eggs and bacon in the refrigerator and had a nice breakfast all alone.
Then he began to think about why the Dursleys weren't home. Then, looking around and realizing it was still night time, he realized that they must be vacationing somewhere. It was summer time after all. He couldn't think of any other reason for the house to be empty.
He then walked out to the living room and saw a most shocking site. All three of the Dursleys, his last remaining relatives were all dead. Not a single one of them had a mark on them, obviously they had fallen victim to Avada Kedavra. And, that meant Death Eaters were behinds this. Of course, Voldemort and the Death Eaters would be keeping a close eye on the prison, seeing as how it housed several captured Death Eaters. So, it would appear that they were attempting to frame him for another mass murder. It would make sense, after all, to the Ministry. Harry had openly hated the Dursleys for years, but now looking at the terrified looks stuck on their faces, Harry felt sorry for them. Terrible as they had been to him for his entire life, they had not deserved death.
He went to check if the bodies were warm, and they were. That meant they had been killed less that 45 minutes ago. That was just before Harry had arrived. If he hadn't taken his time with the Dementors, he could have very well saved them. Well, I can't hang around here, and I'd rather not draw attention to the deaths of the Dursleys, so, I have to run for it, thought Harry. He went back upstairs to grab a few things, and on his way up the stairs he realized what else had been missing from his trunk. His invisibility cloak!
He frantically searched his entire room and looked through his trunk once again, but it was nowhere. "Dammit!" he hissed under his breath, trying not to make too much noise. Hoping that Dumbledore still had it as well as his wand, Harry checked to see if his Firebolt were in the trunk, and sure enough it was there. Then, he decided it would be safer to disapparate, and instead packed all of his things in his trunk, and disapparated to the Leaky Caldron.
Once inside, he kept his hood up and magically modified his voice.
"I need a room," he told the old toothless bar keep, the same one who had been here when he had run away in his third years at Hogwarts. That was the same year Sirius had broken out of Azkaban, though not with as much gusto as Harry.
"Room 11 is open Mister...?"
"Mister is fine. How much?"
"Fifteen Galleons, sir."
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out fifteen Galleons to pay. "There's an extra five galleons here for you to make sure I'm not disturbed. And, no wake up in the morning, I am quite capable of waking myself."
"Yes, sir. Thank you sir," the bar keep replied. "Shall I bring your things up for you?"
"No. I will take them."
With that, Harry levitated his trunk and guided it up the stairs. He entered the room with the golden number 11 on the door and set the trunk at the foot of the bed. He looked out the window on a quiet and empty Diagon Alley thinking that tomorrow, he would prepare everything necessary for his battle with Voldemort. Except of course, the Avenger Sword, but soon. Yes, soon, he thought, Voldemort will regret the night he marked my head with this accursed scar.
And, without further thought, Harry took off his glasses and fell into the bed, asleep before his head hit the pillows.
A/N: One billion points to anyone who can tell me in what way the room number Harry is staying in is an allusion..
All right, I left you hanging... and as far as I can tell 2 of the 3 people who read my story (that I know of) liked it, and that gives me hope. This chapter has been especially hard to write... took me all day (and night) to get the ideas to take form.
Crazy Canuck: thanks for the tip on the proper spelling of Gryffindor, I caught it too but didn't have time to fix it
HoshiHikari4ever: thanks for the support
Dbish403: I can understand you not wanting Harry to be evil... but don't worry he isn't really evil. Just please refrain from calling me a "sicko" and "evil" .... It's just a story.
Chapter 2: Lodging Issues
Harry apparated right into his old room at Number 4 Privet Drive. He knew he couldn't stay here long, as he had just broken out of prison. He knew once the Ministry found out he had escaped, this is one of the first places they would look.
He glanced up at his reflection in the mirror in his open wardrobe, and was shocked at the person he saw in the mirror. Of course, he realized it had been more than three years since he had seen his reflection. He was at least 6'6", his once untidy hair was now a great shaggy mane, and his face was so dirty that, had he not known he had a scar on his forehead, he couldn't have seen it. His shoulders had grown broad and his body powerful. He had obviously changed to suit his new magical power level.
He knew from a quick Legilimense scan that the house was empty. This was a bit suspicious, but he brushed it off and decided to take advantage of the empty house. He needed something to eat and a shower, and he knew he could probably magically modify his old robes to fit him. He was sure they were around here somewhere.
"Ahhh, my old trunk, I guess they sent it back here from Hogwarts. That is most convenient, now I wonder if my wand is in there." Harry thought aloud. His raspy voice startled him in the quiet of the house, but only for a moment, as he reminded himself, he hadn't spoken in more than three years.
He bent over his trunk and began pulling things out. Old school books, now useless to him, he had far surpassed anything in there. He pulled out some robes, several sizes too small. Well, I can fix that, he thought. Engorgio. The robes grew until they were the perfect size. He continued to rummage through his trunk, but alas, nothing there.
"Damn!" he hissed, "I should have known Dumbledore would have been clever enough to keep it. Well, it doesn't matter, I'll retrieve it from his office in due time."
Now, time for a cleaning, he thought as he headed towards the bathroom for a nice hot shower. Not until he got out of the shower did he realize how hungry he was. He dressed quickly in his old room and headed down the stairs for something to eat. He found eggs and bacon in the refrigerator and had a nice breakfast all alone.
Then he began to think about why the Dursleys weren't home. Then, looking around and realizing it was still night time, he realized that they must be vacationing somewhere. It was summer time after all. He couldn't think of any other reason for the house to be empty.
He then walked out to the living room and saw a most shocking site. All three of the Dursleys, his last remaining relatives were all dead. Not a single one of them had a mark on them, obviously they had fallen victim to Avada Kedavra. And, that meant Death Eaters were behinds this. Of course, Voldemort and the Death Eaters would be keeping a close eye on the prison, seeing as how it housed several captured Death Eaters. So, it would appear that they were attempting to frame him for another mass murder. It would make sense, after all, to the Ministry. Harry had openly hated the Dursleys for years, but now looking at the terrified looks stuck on their faces, Harry felt sorry for them. Terrible as they had been to him for his entire life, they had not deserved death.
He went to check if the bodies were warm, and they were. That meant they had been killed less that 45 minutes ago. That was just before Harry had arrived. If he hadn't taken his time with the Dementors, he could have very well saved them. Well, I can't hang around here, and I'd rather not draw attention to the deaths of the Dursleys, so, I have to run for it, thought Harry. He went back upstairs to grab a few things, and on his way up the stairs he realized what else had been missing from his trunk. His invisibility cloak!
He frantically searched his entire room and looked through his trunk once again, but it was nowhere. "Dammit!" he hissed under his breath, trying not to make too much noise. Hoping that Dumbledore still had it as well as his wand, Harry checked to see if his Firebolt were in the trunk, and sure enough it was there. Then, he decided it would be safer to disapparate, and instead packed all of his things in his trunk, and disapparated to the Leaky Caldron.
Once inside, he kept his hood up and magically modified his voice.
"I need a room," he told the old toothless bar keep, the same one who had been here when he had run away in his third years at Hogwarts. That was the same year Sirius had broken out of Azkaban, though not with as much gusto as Harry.
"Room 11 is open Mister...?"
"Mister is fine. How much?"
"Fifteen Galleons, sir."
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out fifteen Galleons to pay. "There's an extra five galleons here for you to make sure I'm not disturbed. And, no wake up in the morning, I am quite capable of waking myself."
"Yes, sir. Thank you sir," the bar keep replied. "Shall I bring your things up for you?"
"No. I will take them."
With that, Harry levitated his trunk and guided it up the stairs. He entered the room with the golden number 11 on the door and set the trunk at the foot of the bed. He looked out the window on a quiet and empty Diagon Alley thinking that tomorrow, he would prepare everything necessary for his battle with Voldemort. Except of course, the Avenger Sword, but soon. Yes, soon, he thought, Voldemort will regret the night he marked my head with this accursed scar.
And, without further thought, Harry took off his glasses and fell into the bed, asleep before his head hit the pillows.
A/N: One billion points to anyone who can tell me in what way the room number Harry is staying in is an allusion..