You Should Not Have Sent Me Back

by DZ2

The Holiday's Over Response: Harry has to go back to Privet Drive, he said. It's where he's safest, he said. He will understand that it's all for the Greater Good, he said. Oh Albus: after all these years, do you ever get tired of being wrong? Dark/Evil Powerful Harry; Pairings TBD (NOT SLASH)

2. Turnabout's Fair Play

You Should Not Have Sent Me Back

Disclaimer/Plot/Challenge Information/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Recommended Reads: Apex by JustBored21, Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Wizards by Corwalch, Aspirations by megamatt09, The Crimson Sorcerer by TwistedFilms, A True Slytherin Rises by MightyGryffindor, Ascension by PerseusPeverell092, Harry Potter and the Perversion of Purity by ACI100, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, Dying to Live by ch4, A Flaw in Fate by 521-DREAM, Dying Light by Darkw01fe and The Rise of the Last Potter by HPfanfictioner66

Key Pairing: Harry/TBD

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

/Parseltongue/

Review Answers:

Magitech: Well, since my idea revolves around feeding that cliché demon, I can only say…sorry;

The God of Perverts: Well, a guideline is an option, not necessarily one I'm accepting either: keep reading to find out;

"Now then, I think it's high time you and I had a nice little chat, Uncle Peter…cause, in the immortal words of a certain Muggle media; you got some splaining to do!"

Chapter 2: Turnabout's Fair Play

It took God seven days to make the world.

It took Ronald Weasley seven minutes to come back with his dummy spat out, and his overcompensating peacock prat of a big brother bringing up the rear; worse-still, he, apparently, hadn't managed to convince his brain to remember that his hand was still slashed open, thanks to Hedwig's talons, judging by the bloody smear he left on the door when he threw it open again.

"Hello boys," drawled Harry, looking up from his musings, with one hand very tightly tucked into his pocket, while the other was idly twirling and juggling a gold Galleon between his fingers.

Harry, meanwhile, hummed softly as he mused, "So, not only a dunce, but a moron, too: is that why she named him Ron, I wonder? Cause Moron Weasley was even worse of a name than Weasley itself? Then again, she did name you Percival and the little girl Ginevra, so no accounting for taste, I suppose. Makes me wonder whose brilliant idea it was to name your brothers after reginal names."

"What?" asked Ron, earning a scoff from Harry as he held up four fingers.

"William, Charles, George and…well, Frederick's not a British king's name, but there have been rulers named that at some point, I'm sure…oh, and let's not forget your Dad: Arthur, as in Arthur Pendragon? You know? Handsome…probably? Rich…most-definitely! Better than you in every way…I could honestly do this all day, but I don't have the time and if Ronniekins looks any more lost, he'll need a map to find his own feet, so…in the immortal words of a rabbit: what's up, Doc?"

"You will apologise!" snapped Percy, earning a snort from Harry as he waved his hand in a certain motion.

"These are not the droids you're looking for," drawled the emerald-eyed scion, but when the two Weasleys looked more lost than ever, Harry scoffed again, "Okay, seriously? You've got a dad who is obsessed with Muggles and their developments, and you're telling me that none of you know that reference? Wow…weak with the Force, this one is."

"Enough of your nonsense, Potter!" growled Percy, earning a sideways look from Harry.

"It's only nonsense if you don't understand it, in which case, where are the guns, the missiles and the Army? Cause, since you don't understand it, logic dictates you have to blow it up and seize what's left for the glory of the nation, am I right?"

"You attacked me!" snapped Ron.

"Um, no, that would be the predatory bird of prey over here; say hello, beautiful," said Harry in a matter-of-fact voice, earning a hoot from Hedwig, before Harry tutted again, "I know; believe me, I want you to scalp and circumcise and, if you can manage it, even castrate these worms too, my sweet. Unfortunately, somebody thinks they're important, so, regrettably, it's seize, capture, torture and intimidate only: no killing. Good thing I'm not a Twin, or that'd go double for me."

As Hedwig let out a sound that might have been interpreted as an owl's way of laughing at someone, Harry looked back to the Weasley Duo as he asked, "So, since nature won over nurture, what's for Round Two? Ding-ding, seconds out; to your corners, ladies, and remember; keep the handbags above the belts at all times."

"You're as insane as that Loony bitch!" snarled Ron, earning a shrug from Harry.

"After sharing a dorm with you for a year, Ronniekins, I'm surprised Neville, Dean and Seamus aren't likewise."

"Apologise!" snarled Percy.

"No."

"I demand you apologise!"

"Percy, there's muck on your brass badge."

"What?"

To Harry's disbelief, Percy even looked at his badge, earning a shake of the head from the emerald-eyed scion, "Okay, really? You actually had to look and sound as though I'd just said there was a live, venomous, bug-eating, hairy-legged, giant spider on your chest? Wow…hey; you okay there, Ronniekins? You've suddenly gone as pale as Snape goes ugly!"

When Percy finally looked up from his precious badge, he did indeed see his brother had gone sickly-white, and looked like he was staring death in the face, while Harry sighed softly as he mused, "Blood loss must have finally caught up with him; shame you're not a real wizard, Ronniekins, or that you don't have your hanger-on to heal you…hey, where is the insufferable know-it-all, anyway? Oh, let me guess; she's either reading up on a way to try and make me toe the line, or she's reading up on how I could possibly look better than I used to, or she's reading up on any potential side-effects to being slashed by a radioactive owl, or she's…no…hold on…"

Suddenly, Harry frowned before he laughed to himself, "Sorry, that's a comic book, but the point still stands: she's probably reading, or trying to find a teacher's ass to kiss and worship at the altar of her God of Wisdom…and yet she's not as clever as she likes to preach, otherwise she'd have kissed and healed Ickle Wonniekins nasty boo-boo by now."

"You…you…you are pushing it, boy!"

"No, it runs on magic…or steam, since electricity doesn't work on magical items, prick," drawled Harry.

Percy, as expected, puffed up, "I am a school Prefect."

"I am the Boy-Who-Doesn't-Give-A-Shit; pleased to meet you," said Harry automatically, giving Percy a casual, two-fingered salute before he added, "Now, if you don't mind, I was enjoying some peace and quiet and, besides, your baby brother needs some kissies from Mumsy and his as frightening as newborn kittens being tossed in a sack and thrown in the river Prefect-brother…so…put simply: bye Felicia."

Again, Harry flicked his wrist.

Again, the door closed without a word.

Again, the Weasley idiots refused to learn their lesson.

Fortunately, this time, Harry also made sure to apply a locking charm to the door, which, from how the door rattled and shook as both Ronald and Percy tried and failed to open it by hand, only demonstrated further how big of a hypocrite the redheaded dunce was.

After all, wasn't it he who, not three months before, had been asking Hermione a question?

Are you a witch or not?

'Apparently, the answer is not,' thought Harry, looking back to the window, seemingly-content to ignore the morons and instead enjoy the ride.

NB

"Wait, wait…hold up…"

"Let's see if it makes sense…"

"You…you storm up to his door…"

"Harry Potter's door…you know; the guy who jumps on trolls' backs…"

"Battles wraiths in the Forbidden Forest…"

"Outrides a jinxed broom…"

"Burns You-Know-Who, or some weird possession of him, with a single touch…"

"And outperforms you in every which way possible…that Harry Potter?"

"The one and only…but back to it, you march up to him…"

"Hammer on his door…"

"Demand he apologise for something an animal…"

"A bird of prey, no less, who is as loyal to him as we are to one another, right, Gred?"

"To the death, Forge…you demand he do things…just because you want him to…"

"And then…icing on the cake…you don't heal Wonniekins' boo-boo?"

"Instead, you try and force open a locked door…"

"BY HAND?"

"WITHOUT MAGIC?"

"AGAINST THE GUY WHO LOCKED IT?"

"WITH MAGIC?"

"Seriously, Perce…"

"Ronnie-baby…"

"Just…just tell us…"

"WHAT KIND OF WIZARDS ARE YOU?" Chorused the Weasley Twins, before they, along with their friend Lee, as well as the Gryffindor Chasers, all began laughing hysterically as a still-bleeding Ron, and a now tomato-red-faced Percy fumed at their mockery.

"It's not funny!" snapped Percy.

"No," agreed Oliver Wood, making Percy jump as he turned to see his rival – and, in his small mind, the guy he'd rightly-so beaten for the Prefect badge – walking back to the compartment where the rest of the team, sans Harry, were gathered. "You're absolutely right, Percival; it's not funny, at all…it's bloody hilarious!"

"It's all Harry's fault!" argued Ron.

"Why?" asked Katie, a mixture of amusement and disbelief in her voice as she asked, "Because he's chosen to make himself better, and recognise what, quite frankly, the rest of us have known ever since we were warned of how ignorant you are, Ronald?"

"Shut up, Bell; you're just a girl. Your opinion doesn't mean a thing!"

"Oh…" groaned Fred, as Angelina and Alicia rose to their feet, while Katie shook her head in amused disbelief once more.

"Why did you have to go and insult the Valkyries, little brother?" asked George, covering his eyes before he added, "Someone tell me when it's safe to look, would you?"

"I am a Prefect," insisted Percy, earning a smug smile from Oliver.

"And we're Gryffindor's best hopes of making sure Slytherin don't get a chance to kickstart a second streak, Perce…and so is Harry, provided he doesn't quit the team because the thought of you two has put him off of having anything to do with any Weasley…but I digress. Who do you think the House is going to stand with?"

"Nobody."

This time, even the Twins jumped when they, along with the team, and the two idiots, turned to see Harry himself leaning against the window nearest the team's compartment, idly munching on a Chocolate Frog, before he hummed softly as he gulped down its head.

"Mmm, chocolate…and, oh look: Salazar Slytherin! Haven't you been after this one, Ronniekins?"

While Ron fumed, Harry scrunched up the card before, to Ron's horror, Harry ate the card as he added, "Ah well; best keep this in a safe place."

After swallowing the card, Harry burped softly as he looked to the compartment, "Oop, pardon me; sorry to interrupt your little early pre-school obsession drive-slash-pep rally, Ollie; but I just thought you should know now before I make it official."

Lifting himself from his leaned position, Harry walked over to the compartment, where he leaned in, so he was looking at his teammates, all of whom he gave what looked like apologetic smiles before he turned to Oliver.

"I resign."

"WHAT?"

NB

Up and down the train, every student, as well as the driver and even the trolley lady, all jumped in shock as the pained, furious, disbelieving, beyond-offended roar of the King of the Lions' Quidditch Team heard the news.

NB

Harry, meanwhile, hummed softly as he looked to Ron, who also looked horrified, before Harry scoffed.

"Okay, seriously now, Ronald Weasley; all jokes aside this one time. Get that bloody hand, and I mean that literally, in this case, so…oh look, another joke; ah well; the point still stands. Go and get someone to see to it that the wound is healed before you die from blood loss, would you? Meanwhile, Ollie, if you want a finger to point regarding the how and the why behind my resigning, how's about looking at Gryffindor's own version of a certain Slytherin blond? Ciao, gentlemen, ladies, Demons, and whatever you two are…"

With that, Harry left the team to glare daggers at the Weasley Morons, though not before Fred and George cracked their knuckles threateningly.

"Guess what, brothers-dense?" asked Fred, a sinister look worthy of a certain psychotic Death Eater now filling his and George's eyes.

Meanwhile, his twin made the point very clear indeed…

"You two just declared it open season…for whatever it was you, wickle baby bwover, did to him! So, where shall we start, brother-mine?"

"Well," replied Fred, drawing a finger across his throat as he licked his lips in an evil, twisted sort of look.

"It's been a long while since we last saw Wonniekins hugging a giant spider, dear heart…"

NB

This time, a terrified, shrill, beyond-ladylike-level scream tore down the train.

When the echo reached Harry, however, he just hummed softly as he petted Hedwig's feathers.

"I think I might have gone overboard there, a bit, Hedwig…"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers, before Harry nodded.

"Yeah, you're right; under-board…sorry, lovely; guess being around Moron and Prat for too long nearly depleted my intelligence…again!"

NB

"Ah, Hogwarts; how I've missed you."

As Harry leapt down off of the carriage, having ridden his way up to the school alone – for once, seeing as how, curiously, absolutely nobody wanted to ride with him; not that he knew, or cared, why – he breathed in the once-familiar scents of home, before he wafted his hand in front of his face with a disgusted look.

"Gross; now that my eyes are open, I think my nose followed suit; I can practically smell the stench of hypocrisy, one-sided faiths, delusions of grandeur and overbearing egos!"

"Potter!"

"Boy, if that wasn't a good entry line, I don't know what is. Ah, Professor McGonagall…" muttered Harry, before he raised his voice as he greeted his Head of House. "Nice to see you again, ma'am; what's up?"

"Where have you been?"

"I've been to London to see the Queen," drawled Harry, earning a dumbfounded look from McGonagall, while Harry scoffed, "Seriously? The pussycat Animagus doesn't get the reference? Wow, and I thought the Star Wars bit was bad; anyway, why are you so curious about where I have or haven't been? Don't you remember what happened to the last curious cat?"

McGonagall blanched as she looked Harry up and down, taking in his new – and, as far as Harry was concerned, better – physical appearance, including his robes, which, to her shock, didn't have the Gryffindor Crest and Trim on them anymore.

"Where are your robes, Potter?"

"Try the sewers," said Harry, earning an outraged, horrified look from McGonagall, while Harry shrugged, "Don't worry: I'll explain everything in due course, Professor. And, unlike you, I won't blow someone off if they try and state the bleeding obvious about potential dangers to…well, the only person that matters; that's me, by the way, hello."

He even waved mockingly, earning a shocked look from McGonagall, while Harry hummed softly as he added, "Anyway, I think Hagrid's due to arrive, so you'd better go and find him. Meanwhile, I'm going to the hall; see you in there, Professor."

With that, Harry left McGonagall stewing, while he hummed casually as he wandered in through the once-proud doors of the place he would have gladly called his home away from home.

Of course, that would imply he even had a home…

NB

While the rest of his year-mates, as well as their respective Housemates, all gathered in the Great Hall, Harry waited out in the Entrance Hall, still humming to himself as he idly nipped at his fingernails.

Above him, he saw the familiar outlines of the ghosts, many of whom looked down at him in surprise; however, as Harry saw Nearly-Headless Nick glide in with the rest of them, the proud nobleman spirit then glided down to Harry as he asked, "Young Master Potter? This is unusual; I thought your peers and compatriots would have joined their respective tabled ranks by now?"

"Oh, they have, Sir Nicholas," said Harry, giving a curt nod to the spectre as he added, "But, regrettably, I can't…no, sorry, wrong choice of words; what I meant to say was that I won't be taking my seat just yet. You see, events have changed recently and, as part of those changes…well, let's just say the Hogwarts motto is about to come into effect."

"Oh?" asked Nicholas, earning a nod from Harry, "How so, dear boy?"

Before Harry could answer, however, a new voice cut them both off.

"He's using the Mordred Protocol."

Turning, Harry saw a grey-ghostly figure, a lady at that, looking at him with sorrow, as well as a modicum of surprise.

As Harry looked back at her, he sighed softly before he nodded in response. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you would figure it out if you saw me and heard what I had to say, Lady Helena; can I also add that, now I see and know for myself who you once were, and whose honour you hold onto to this very day, it is an honour to meet you…the real you, for myself?"

The Grey Lady, aka Helena Ravenclaw, looked surprised for only a moment, before she nodded, "The honour is mine, Heir Potter; your Mother also figured out my true identity remarkably-quickly. I miss speaking to one of such spiritual clarity and wisdom above and beyond my Mother's; should you join my House, I would look forwards to more conversations of this kind."

"I can only try and be as wise, and clear, as well as strong-hearted and light-minded as she was, my Lady…but, sadly, my future is not so rosy, no puns intended," said Harry, earning a solemn look from Helena, before Harry added, "However, if I can and do make one promise; it is that my quarrels do not lie with your Mother's citadel. They lie with the rogues and false guides that call themselves children of her legacy and that of her cohorts…and yes, my Lady, I do include Lord Salazar in there."

"I see…"

With that, Helena floated away, though not before Harry heard her mutter, "He's created another one, then…"

"What was that all about?" asked Sir Nicholas, earning a low hum from Harry.

"I think I know…anyway, you'd better go inside, Sir Nicholas…and don't worry; even though what's about to happen will happen, you, I hope, will always be someone I hold in high respects…certainly more than the current custodian of your Spiritual House."

Still confused as he was, Sir Nicholas acknowledged Harry's request and wording; once the ghost was gone, Harry looked up just in time to see Professor McGonagall returning, accompanied by the new class of first-years, including the little girl Harry dimly recalled from the previous year.

When McGonagall saw Harry standing there, she scowled, while Harry waved mockingly as he greeted her.

"Good evening, Professor, and to the rest of you: welcome to Hogwarts. Enter freely of your own will, but leave some of the happiness, and, if you can manage it, maybe even some of the intelligence and greatness you bring…preferably before it's snuffed out by hypocrites and morons, most of whom come from the supposed House of the Brave…"

With that, Harry indicated the door behind him as he explained, "Don't worry, though: Hogwarts is extremely safe and well-protected…Voldemort himself couldn't get in here…isn't that right, Professor?"

While a few of the newcomers looked scared, Minerva's eyes widened with rage as she hissed through clenched teeth, "Twenty points…"

"From whom?" asked Harry, earning another raged look from Minerva.

"Gryffindor, of course!"

"Ah, okay, then…but, um…one problem, Professor?"

"What?"

Smiling confidently, Harry drew himself to his full height before he continued in a clear voice;

"Under the powers vested in me, in accordance with the Mordred Protocols, as set down by the First Board of Hogwarts, and her Founders, I, Harrison James Potter, do declare myself a student of Gryffindor House no longer!"

A loud clang, eerily similar to that of the peal of a bell in a graveyard, filled the castle, making the first-years jump, while Minerva's eyes widened in horror, disbelief and even pain, as she looked into the eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry, meanwhile, reached into his robe, where he produced a rolled-up parchment, which had been bound and sealed by the Ministry, as well as the Gringotts Goblins, before he handed it to Minerva with a flourish.

"I'm sure you'll want to challenge my claim to the activation of the protocol, Deputy Headmistress, so, here: I think you'll find the necessary legal signatures, seals and office declarations all in this parchment. And, if you want to know more, then all you have to do is read tomorrow's Daily Prophet; trust me, it's a real eye-opener…"

As Minerva took the parchment with trembling fingers, Harry smiled coldly, if not cruelly, as he cocked his head to one side.

"Kind of like this past summer was a real eye-opener for me, Professor…and, just think, everything that's happened, and everything that's about to happen, is all thanks to you, Rubeus and the all-knowing Albus Dumbledore leaving a little baby boy on a cold, empty doorstep on a wintry October night-slash-November morning…so, on behalf of that kid, I say…cheers, Minerva-dears!"

Chapter 2 and the mysteries deepen: Harry's definitely not playing by the rules of their games anymore, but what could have happened to him in order to make him so…twisted and worthy of being called a younger, male version of a certain crazy witch?

Also, what, exactly, are the Mordred Protocols and what does Helena Ravenclaw mean when she says someone created another one?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: The Mordred Protocols: what are they? What will they do for Harry? How does he even know them? And what sort of eye-opening details await him in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet? All will be revealed, explained and changed…

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