An Incomplete Potter Collection ch Collection 15

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Elvendork isn't a real name
The Founders
The Masterminds of Hogwarts

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

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Story: [Elvendork isn't a real name]

Summary: They're idiots about names. Everyone knows this. So a few rules had been established.

Genre: Humor, Crack

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He couldn't name him 'Rubeus', because no matter how much he loved the Keeper of Keys, he knew very well why the half-giant insisted for everyone to call him 'Hagrid'. It was much the same reason as why Tonks never used her given name, though he was never as demanding of it as the metamorphmagus had been.

No, 'Rubeus' was out.

'Remus' had already been used, even if Teddy Remus Lupin technically wasn't biologically a Potter. Harry's godson was family enough to have his naming scheme limit the names of the rest of their brood.

'Sirius' and 'James' were both taken, and a whole list of names were excluded on behalf of the rest of the extended Weasley-family getting their grubby little paws on them first. Even if he'd somehow managed to been born a girl instead, they would've likely only been postponing the naming-crisis all the way until their third child. They'd been hard-pressed as it was to find a decent female middle-name for their only daughter, and had mostly stumbled upon being allowed to use Luna's rather wonderful one by luck.

Harry knew perfectly well that he and Ginny were actually quite awful at naming things. It was why they'd long since decided to only use names that had originally belonged to other people when they named their children. Names that those same people hadn't been ashamed of.

It'd been such a nice thought, too. All the way up until they'd realized that they'd kind of been counting on the whole 'one son, one daughter'-idea of a family, and had therefore ended up using all of the actually decent names on James Sirius, leaving them woefully short in regards to accommodating the naming-needs of a second son.

The problem stemmed in no small part from the fact that the only remaining male names Harry had better claim to than anyone else was 'Dudley', 'Severus', 'Vernon', 'Albus', and 'Regulus'. And Regulus was pushing it.

Harry had never met the man who'd tried so hard to bring down the Dark Lord, who'd bravely allowed himself to do something for which he'd known nobody would ever remember him, all for the sake of a desperate plan to undermine the madman's immortality.

It sounded like it would've been a good name, except it was 'Regulus', and considering how Sirius had shortened it to 'Reggie' – which Harry was quietly convinced was actually a type of muggle music – it was highly likely that it was one of those names that the poor child would be ashamed of. Not to mention that Regulus Black was widely known as having been a Death Eater who'd 'died in the service of the Dark Lord', a misunderstanding that nobody quite knew how to bring up without dragging the very-much-need-to-know-basis story about Voldemort's horcruxes into the mix.

No, 'Regulus' was a minefield of a name, and besides that they already had one 'R' amongst their knitted sweaters, and they'd be needing some kind of actual vowels if they'd hope to spell anything at all during the Christmas photographs – let alone any swear-words.

'Vernon' was flat out refused on behalf of not being able to say the name with a straight face. Harry kept either breaking out into hysterical giggles or begin randomly gagging in disgust at it.

'Dudley' was once again vetoed because it was a ridiculous name to inflict on a poor innocent child. No matter how strong Dudley's spirit might've been for him to finally shake off the influences of his family's upbringing and actually become a more or less decent individual.

'Severus' was at least a wizarding kind of name, and it was well-known that he was a spy for the Light, so at least it was only a crappy name. And connected to a most unpleasant individual, but at this point there was a slight tinge of desperate hysteria from Harry and Ginny, which lead to the name not immediately being tossed aside.

'Albus' actually seemed to make sense. Sure, the headmaster wasn't a saint by any stretch of the word, but he'd done what he could, and no matter how ruthless his manipulations had been, he'd won them the war in the end. Perhaps not an ideal choice of name, but it wasn't as if they could name him 'Hedwig' or start throwing the names of any of Hagrid's pets around.

And they'd promised Hermione – and Ron and Molly and Arthur and Fleur and Bill and Neville and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and Lily and James Potter's gravestones and McGonagall and probably half-a-dozen other people who'd approached them about names during Ginny's first pregnancy – to never name anything without following the Rules.

Harry still thought that they could've gotten away with 'Elvendork, the First, Potter', but apparently not.

So 'Albus' it was, leaving only a middle-name left to be decided.

Which was when the sneaky little bugger was born prematurely, and left his parents panicking over the birth certificate that required his full name.

So 'Albus Severus Potter' it was, and Harry wouldn't meet Neville's eyes for seven months afterwards.

At least Fleur seemed to think it was funny.

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Story: [The Founders]

Summary: Time distorts much that we once knew, and it's so much easier when the world is rendered in black and white.

Genre: Fridge logic?

XXX (Speaking of Slytherin to Modern Hogwarts) XXX

"The first thing to remember about the days surrounding the founding of Hogwarts, is that it was a very different time." He paused, frowning slightly. "No, I doubt the history-lessons have adequately explained to you how different those days truly was."

He took a deep breath.

"Perhaps the best place to begin, is to note that any child wishes to be loved by their parents, to be acknowledged and held in high regard. That is how humans are." His face twisted bitterly. "The problem that arise from that fact is the simple question of 'what do they need to do in order to have that?'. In other words, how far are they willing to go in order to have a chance to be loved and acknowledged by their parents?"

There were silent murmurs across the hall, but he paid them no attention.

"The witch-burnings that are nowadays laughed at for the ineptness of the muggles performing them, take on a very different tone when you realize that it wouldn't be muggles dragging the 'witches' to the pole." He took a deep steadying breath, reining in the rising heat in his voice. "To teach muggleborns, is to invite spies. Both from children who wouldn't know to keep certain things quiet from dangerous ears, but also from desperate children wanting to be loved, even if it means to betray their own peers and sentence them to death."

He paused again, eyes sweeping across them all, trying to show just how serious his words were, before he continued.

"It was a ruthless decision to make, to refuse them entry, to discard them in suspicion just as the muggles had already discarded them in ignorance and hatred. But to call the opinion 'wrong' and spit on it, without knowing of the times when it had already happened-..."

The hall was silent, children and adults alike staring at him with wide eyes.

"Salazar wished to refuse them entry, because he saw a security-risk. He wished to refuse them entry, because he'd seen too many horrors that muggles had already visited upon the magical community. And he loved Hogwarts and what it stood for, far too deeply to ever be willing to risk it."

"So muggleborns deserve to be abandoned?!" One voice, loud with righteous fury, echoed from amidst the students.

His eyes again swept across the hall, gaze suddenly sharp and dangerous. "No. Salazar was in the wrong. Hogwarts was supposed to be a haven for all, divided loyalties or no. But his decision and his opinion was his to make and to hold. And whilst I argued with him over it a great many times, I know his history well enough that I do no fault him for his beliefs."

XXX (Names of the Founders) XXX

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin. Those were the name of their Houses, names that the four friends had dreamt up, partly through jest and laughter, partly through fondness and strange dreams.

Rowena had always been big on the divination-front of magic, and most of them merely rolled their eyes whenever she decided to name things. It was how their school got its name in the first place.

But the names of their Houses had been ones they'd all worked on together, though more drinking and good cheer had gone into the 'work' than any actual sensible discussion.

Helga had a tendency to breathe fairly hard when she was upset, huffing and puffing wherever she went. Rowena had a very distinctly awful singing voice, and a painfully strong grip. Salazar had a tendency to trip over his own feet, to the point where he spent an awful amount of time crawling around on the floor, despite his esteemed wit. And it was a long-standing tradition to ruthlessly deny Godric's attempts to get a gryphon as a pet, whenever he started to open his mouth to suggest an addition to to the school – even if that hadn't at all been what he'd wanted to say, this time.

Four names for four Houses, spoken first in jest, and later with fondness.

That they'd reflect back on the friends after a while-... well it wasn't entirely unexpected, with how these things go. Some of them had names since before, but as the years went by and the school grew, those names dimmed in the face of the names of their Houses.

Salazar became Slytherin, Rowena became Ravenclaw, Helga became Hufflepuff, and Godric became Gryffindor. Names that they'd already claimed, now suddenly indisputably linked to their own.

More than a few of them blamed Rowena for it, even if they didn't truly mind it.

They were names of their accomplishments, of this one haven that they'd created and the people that it safeguarded. They were the names that proved that the four friends had made a place worthy of placing their hopes of a brighter future in.

XXX (The Chamber) XXX

The entrance was placed in the middle of the castle, far from the inherent dangers of the ground floors, and well out of the way of the dangerously exposed towers. It was hidden away in a place few would give more than a cursory glance, and could only be opened by someone with a magical ability to command snakes.

And in the deepest depths of it, hidden away behind a password that perhaps held a little bit of a 'told you so' to those who'd opposed his views on the dangers of the muggleborns, was a monster that could wipe out an army in an instant. A monster that could reach every nook and cranny of the castle, and whose very purpose in existence was to bring death to all who saw it.

Yes, he'd built it safely away from the disapproving eyes of his friends, knowing that they'd be furious at him for willingly allowing that monster to remain in proximity with children. But it was all he could do, it was the only thing that he could imagine truly being capable of ending any threat that muggles might pose to their people.

His Chamber might've been the perfect defense, a final place to hide away from an invading force. But if it was used, it would leave the castle eerily empty – impossibly empty, in fact – and that would entice the invaders to simply look more thoroughly. All the while until they finally found the entrance, and then it would be back to fighting once again.

No, they needed something to remove the threat with. Something that could annihilate an entire army if it so needed. And Salazar found it in a basilisk, a snake that would obey a parselmouth's command without question. The very same parselmouth that was needed to access the Chamber to start with.

He could never mention the Chamber to anyone, knowing that if he did, it would likely be spread through gossip and idle chatter until it was undoubtedly factored into the plans of any traitor who might prove him right about the dangers of bringing muggleborns into their sanctuary.

Except, finally Salazar left Hogwarts to wander the world, too tired of fighting his friends over the issue and yet too certain of the truth in his worries to ever be able to admit defeat. He walked away, because when his friends were burned at the stake, Salazar didn't want to be there to hear their screams. Not theirs, and not their students'.

He'd lost too much already to muggles, and he didn't dare being forced to watch as he lost even Hogwarts to their hate.

So he left, and he wandered the world until he could find a better place to live out his life. A place away from the wonders of Hogwarts, perhaps, but also a place where he could at the very least sleep peacefully at night. A place where he didn't have to constantly glance over his shoulder, wondering when the muggles would launch their attack on his helpless friends and students.

And the Chamber remained nothing more than an indistinct rumor.

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Story: [The Masterminds of Hogwarts]

Summary: AU. Magic doesn't exist, but Hogwarts is still a school for the 'gifted'. Even if they're actually sneaky little monsters down to the last.

Genre: Adventure?

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One of the first things people learned at Hogwarts was that 'getting lost' was no excuse at all for 'being late'.

In theory, this sounded like a sensible thing. A certain comfortable level of strictness from authority in regards to arriving as scheduled. But that was before Hogwarts was taken into account.

The entire school was a maze, originally built in medieval times with the full intent to confuse and bewilder any invaders who managed to make it past its walls. Beyond that, any honest long-term resident could attest to the maze-like hallways never quite being the same as they were the day before. Through a bit of investigation, it was in fact rather blatantly obvious that at some point someone had upgraded the ancient castle's hallways to move around in seemingly random patterns.

On top of that rather insane level of directional misdirection, nobody was ever given a map.

All in all, Hogwarts was quite literally the most labyrinthine building that any of them would ever encounter. And they were sent into its halls with a rather careless sense of 'sink or swim'-attitude.

Despite this, by the end of the first month – and outside of unusually unlucky circumstances – people stopped arriving late to their classes.

It wasn't necessarily the punishments driving the students up and beyond their limits, as much as it was that it took a while for the sneaky little bastards inhabiting the place to figure out how to bypass the maze-like aspect of their new school on a regular basis.

Hogwarts, a school for the 'gifted'. Certainly something that would impress most any employer, even if the knowledge of it wasn't quite as widespread as some of the other schools. Then again, there was no real point in knowing about Hogwarts, since it was based exclusively around invitations. In other words, there was no actual need for their name to be widespread, seeing as they found you, rather than the opposite.

However, for most anyone who actually knew about Hogwarts, calling its students 'gifted' would be more an act done out of self-preservation than any true belief that they were in any way a 'gift' to the rest of the world.

The students of Hogwarts either had parents closely linked to various spy-organizations, had parents closely linked to the criminal underside that donated generously to the aforementioned spy-organizations, or they were children scouted for their talents.

The 'old blood' of course had a tendency to look down upon the recently-scouted ones, seeing as they rarely had any clue what they were getting themselves into. Not to mention the reoccurring fact that many of the new-bloods were 'scouted' when they'd managed to bring themselves to the attention of their local law-enforcement agencies.

New-bloods could be everything from computer-geniuses, to strategists, to pickpockets, to violent criminals. And nobody could ever be entirely sure which one of all those things might've brought their classmates to Hogwarts' attention.

It made a great deal of people nervous, having to share room with someone who might or might not have beaten someone to death with a crowbar in a back-alley somewhere. But that was something they'd have to get used to if they wished to remain within the world they'd found themselves in.

Sometimes though, people fell into both categories.

Harry Potter was a name that had been on the List from the moment of his birth considering his mother's talents and his father's connections. By the time he'd turned ten, the professors had been unnerved to realize that had that not already been the case, he would've made it onto the List by his own merit.

Of course, nobody could find any links to him. Nothing that would actually stick.

But it sounded somewhat unbelievable that his aunt had stabbed her husband to death and then completely botched trying to hide her deed by burning the house down. Not so much because these things didn't happen, so much as because the woman's son had still been inside, and Harry had mysteriously acquired an alibi in a nearby library at the time when the forensics in charge all agreed was when the fire had started.

It was a little bit too coincidental, a little bit too clean. And the motive had been blatantly obvious enough that the people in charge of him originally being placed into his relatives' care had come under fire for it.

James and Lily had been quite well-liked after all – even if trust, by the nature of their world, tended to be rather thin on the ground – and to hear that their only son had grown up in a cupboard under the stairs-... well, there'd been some very pointed questions raised on the subject.

Still, despite some of the more infamous 'scouting'-cases, most new-bloods arrived in Hogwarts as complete unknowns. Something which most everyone exploited in their own ways.

Older students usually found themselves doing background-checks both on and for their Housemates, some of them having long-since developed that kind of in-depth research into an art-form well worth the money people paid for it. And the new-bloods themselves generally took advantage of their criminal records – or not so criminal records – being unknown for those first few weeks, either through bluffs that would've otherwise been seen through, or through establishing solid enough relationships with their classmates that they wouldn't be labeled as an outcast the instant their talents were revealed through the rumor-mill.

It was a system that had withstood the test of time, and it was a system that operated – much like everything else in Hogwarts did – by the easily understood principle of 'sink or swim'.

The Underworld didn't have time to cater to those who didn't have some way of pulling their own weight. It wasn't as if such people would survive for long enough to prove even remotely useful anyway.

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The first kill that is officially attributed to Harry Potter's name happens a few months shy of his twelfth birthday.

It is classified as self-defense against a teacher still working for the fractured remnants of an organization which most had hoped had died with the war a decade ago. Hoped, but certainly not planned for.

Upon realizing what exactly had happened, and why the young Mr Potter felt the need to hit his professor in the face with acid – and continue to apply it until the man had stopped moving – the message had spread everywhere. Not because the headmaster of Hogwarts was generous with information, but rather because he very consistently wasn't generous.

No person of the Underworld would accept not being informed of things, so they'd obviously found other ways to bypass the old headmaster's control, and as a result they'd reacted quickly and efficiently upon hearing that the Death Eaters were trying to make an entrance back onto the scene.

Azkaban had initiated war-protocols and locked the island down even further than normal. The Minister responsible for the outwards face of the Underworld very carefully explained that absolutely nothing at all was happening, to anyone who'd listen. And the Ministry itself was sweeping through its personnel with ruthless efficiency.

The various individuals of the Underworld were either slipping smoothly into hiding, hunkering down for siege, or very deliberately remaining out in the open in order to draw these disturbers of the peace into ambushes. Everyone had different plans, and everyone had different justifications for those plans.

By the time Harry Potter turns twelve, three clusters of a particular brand of fanatics have been uncovered, and Azkaban receives a few more 'guests'. However, with the war-protocols in place, there's a bit more uncomfortable and unpleasantly non-secretive paperwork that needs to be filed than normal. Which is how they discover the actual identity of one person behind the Death Eater mask.

A person whose well-recorded death framed a resistance-member for murder.

It's not the first time someone has ended up in Azkaban without a trial, and it won't be the last. That is the way of such things, and the people of the Underworld know better than to assume they'll be treated fairly by their peers. In the end, everyone are equally ruthless, and whilst there's a certain degree of pretended civility between its members, it's easy to see the nastiness hiding under the thin veneer.

In the Underworld, simply being caught at all was a good enough reason to be declared 'guilty'. After all, it wasn't as if anyone could survive in it for very long without committing enough crimes to get a life-sentence in any country in the world.

No, Sirius Black might've been innocent of what it'd been assumed that he'd done, but the reaction to his innocence was more a grudging nod of respect towards Peter Pettigrew and his abilities, than any actual outrage on behalf of the victim. Sirius Black was innocent, and it was greeted with a shrug, and some vague curiosity of whether or not they'd let him go or simply pull up some other charges against him and leave him rotting.

They got their answer when Sirius Black was released mostly on behalf of the recent influx of prisoners, and his predisposition to figure out creative ways to kill his fellow inmates.

Certainly, it was entertaining to see what the man would come up with, and it wasn't as if his murders weren't making things easier for the staff whenever he ruined an escape-attempt, but in the end Azkaban was a prison. Not an execution facility.

The guards had been more than happy to simply shove the annoyance straight back into the Underworld with a smile and a wave.

Harry Potter had greeted the man whose plan had ended up getting his parents killed in a fashion most suitable for the situation. And though Hermione Granger – new-blood and a non-criminal recruit that she was – felt that perhaps trapping the man inside of a slowly submerging room was a bit overkill for the situation, she was overruled.

A large amount of heartfelt words later, and Sirius sent off his official request for guardianship of his godson. Said request had been forced through and accepted by the end of the day on behalf of how the Weasley family had put their – not inconsiderable – weight behind it. There were few who didn't owe that family something, and there were little reason to deny the guardianship entirely.

If Sirius Black was trying to kill Mr Potter, then the whole thing was likely a ploy by the twelve-year-old to ease his way towards the Black family's inheritance. As in, he'd need the official papers to be ready before he killed his godfather in self-defense. And really, if they denied the request, the Ministry would end up having to try to sort out that family-tree on its own. And that was likely to take half-a-decade of dedicated work from Ministry-hired solicitors. Expensive Ministry-hired solicitors.

So it was easier, cheaper – not overly detrimental to anyone else's plots – and a lukewarm gesture of good faith, to simply allow it through the system's official channels without too much fuss.

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