Disclaimer: Characters and the settings don't belong to me; I'm not making any monetary profit from this.
~2~
Harry woke up wet, cold, slightly groggy, and completely naked in a grassy field. From the position of the sun, he judged it was very early in the morning. He stared in exasperation at a few cows that were calming grazing.
"Well, this is just great,"he mumbled as he surveyed his surroundings. He felt horribly exposed and desperately wished for some sort of covering as a cool breeze blew on his naked body.
Harry noticed that he still had his glasses and wondered how it worked that he was able to appear with his glasses intact but not any clothing. He didn't doubt that he was left naked for amusement's sake.
After a few minutes of awkward travel, he found himself at a farm house. He eyed a gently swaying clothesline. He didn't like stealing but desperate times called for desperate measures. After checking to make sure that no one was around, Harry darted out of the tall grass and over to the assorted clothing, quickly swiping a few garments.
It was at this point that he truly became aware of his size.
'Ten years old! Merlin, it's strange being small again.'
He ended up wearing a pair of jeans that were several sizes too big, and a plain black shirt that he was pretty sure was intended for a woman. It was one of those 'baby doll' shirts that would cling tightly to a woman's chest. What this meant for him was that it was only slightly loose on his malnourished ten-year-old body.
'Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose…'
He found a length of rope nearby and tied it around his waist, reminding him strongly of his old life with the Dursleys. He was still barefoot but at least he wasn't naked anymore. With one final look around, Harry decided that apparition was his best bet. He focused on the apparition zone in the back of Knockturn Alley that was out of the way and usually deserted, turned on the spot and vanished with a quiet crack.
He was thankful that it was so early. Knockturn Alley was always empty in the early mornings; its normal clientele was more of a night-time crowd. He kept his head ducked low and hurried through the winding roads until he came to the exit which led into Diagon Alley. He was greeted with the sight of the large, white marble, goblin's bank looming in the background.
Taking advantage of the deserted shopping district, Harry scurried up the stairs and into the bank. There was a lonesome wizard inside who was too preoccupied to give Harry any notice. Harry hurried over to one of the open tellers and stood on his tip-toes to see over the counter.
The goblin stared down his long, crooked nose at him with the ever present air of annoyance goblins were well known for.
"Can I help you?" the goblin asked dryly, staring at Harry with disinterest bordering on disdain.
"Can you do a blood test to confirm my identity so I can gain access to my vaults? I don't have my key with me." Harry explained, recalling Morrighan's words.
"Yes, it would require the use of a special blood quill and a fee of 5 galleons."
"What if the vaults in question are frozen because you guys think I'm dead? Would the blood quill be enough to prove my claim?"
The goblin raised a single eyebrow giving Harry a rather dubious look. "The quill would be sufficient. However, if our records have indicated your death, then you are indeed dead."
Harry gave the goblin a deadpanned stare. "I seem pretty alive, don't you think? Can we do the test now?"
The goblin sighed before stepping down from behind his elevated podium and heading towards a door. "Yes, follow me."
Harry trailed closely behind the goblin through a door way and several convoluted hallways before the goblin stopped and gestured towards a chair in the room they had arrived at.
"Have a seat. I will be with you shortly."
Harry did as he was told with no delay while the goblin disappeared to go retrieve the needed items. After a minute he returned with a wood-backed, framed piece of blank parchment and a thin, elongated, wooden box. He set the mentioned items on the desk in front of Harry.
"Inside the box is a blood quill," He explained, tapping the aforementioned item. "It will make use of your blood to write and may be mildly painful, but the wound will heal immediately following use."
Harry nodded to show his understanding but couldn't help but grimace, recalling memories from his 5th year.
"The paper is charmed. You will write your name on it and if it identifies it as your given name, then it will absorb the letters and list any vaults you have with us. If you are not who you claim to be, the name that you wrote will be burned off the parchment. Is that clear?"
"Quite." Harry confirmed.
The goblin took out the quill from the box and handed it to Harry, who scribbled his name on the charmed parchment.
The goblin watched with disinterest but Harry could see his eyes widen as he wrote out 'Harry James Potter'. The goblin's surprised eyes immediately traveled up to examine Harry's forehead. Harry scowled lightly at the motion and focused on the parchment before him.
The letters slowly seeped into the cream colored parchment. Soon, the words 'Vault 687: Harry Potter Trust Account', and 'Vault 809: Potter Family Estate' graced the top. Harry felt slightly uneasy, remembering Riddle's diary had acted in a similar fashion. Perhaps he had even gotten the idea for the diary from here? Voldemort must have at one point attempted to see if he had any vaults left to him or, at the very least, to see which families he was related to.
The goblin's eyes darted disbelievingly from the parchment to Harry and back again several times.
"I trust we can keep this confidential…?" Harry inquired pointedly.
The goblin immediately took on an air of professionalism. "We have the utmost regard for our client's privacy," he assured.
Harry grinned. "Excellent! Can I get copies made of my vault keys?"
"You cannot gain complete access to the family estate vault until you come of age."
"The keys to my trust account are available to me, correct?"
The goblin nodded in confirmation. Harry paused, considering.
"How much money do I have in my trust fund? Is there a cap on withdrawals?"
"I don't have the details of your accounts with me. It'll only take a second to retrieve them," replied the goblin before getting up and exiting the room, returning quickly with a navy blue folder in his wrinkled, worn hands.
"This is the Potter bank file," the goblin stated as he passed it to Harry, who took it with interest. "The account has been frozen for the past eight years. As such, it has accumulated a nice sum of interest."
Harry opened the folder and shifted through the papers. He inspected the list of properties carefully; they were the same in this world as they had been in his. He flipped to the next page, which listed the balance of the Potter family vault. It held a sum total of 2.3 million galleons while the trust fund contained half a million; cap of 25 thousand yearly, not counting Hogwarts tuition and living expenses; special permission needed from his guardian to withdraw more... it was all the same.
Enough money for his personal purposes but not enough, he knew, to fund a resistance. He had found out the hard way about the importance of money in regards to war. He smirked when he reached the investments section.
"I was wondering if I can invest some of my trust money."
"Yes, you can. It is yours to do with as you please. However, I should caution you: investing is a challenge and can be risky…" said the goblin, eyeing Harry warily.
"I'm aware of that. Could I perhaps owl you my requests when I've got some ideas?"
"Yes. Simply owl Gringotts with your name and trust fund number and it will be taken care of."
"Awesome." Harry grinned as he closed the file, handing it back to the goblin. "I'm also going to need to create a new account under a different name, transfer money from the trust account into it and arrange for money to be sent from thataccount to Hogwarts for my tuition… is that feasible?"
The goblin looked at him with a poker face. "It can be arranged. What name should this other account be under?"
Harry ran his hand through his hair, contemplating possible names. He had used plenty of aliases while he had been in hiding. All he needed to do now was pick one that he felt comfortable enough with to use as his main name… A flash of inspiration hit him and he suddenly knew which to choose.
"Orion Aubrey."
"Very well, I will make the necessary arrangements."
Soon, Harry had finished his business with the goblin and withdrawn some gold. On his way out, Harry slipped into Gringott's public restroom. He soaked his hair with the cool water flowing freely from the tap, trying to force his fringe to completely cover his scar. He felt a stab of irritation as his hair simply sprung up after a minute, stubborn and wild. Sighing, he examined his reflection critically, unsure of how he was going to pass unnoticed in the crowd of magical beings that would soon flood Diagon Alley.
He hadn't had time to practice wandless magic extensively in his world. The war had consumed all of his energy and focus; he had been a general, the icon of the resistance. It had been hard enough to fit sleep into his schedule, let alone time to practice something as draining as wandless magic.
He needed a wand, pronto. Then he could throw up some glamours and concentrate on his other needs. The question was... where? Olivander had that weird way of knowing who someone was. Plus, any wands from Olivander sold to an underage wizard would come with a tracking charm. He could remove it but it would take him a couple days and it would be difficult to do so without the aid of anotherwand…
Knockturn Alley it was. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to find a perfect match, considering the difficulties involved with getting his first wand, but at the very least he would have a temporary wand and could work from there.
Giving up on his hair, he walked out of Gringotts hoping no one would notice him. It was still early in the morning, only 6, but now people were beginning to trickle into the market place.
As soon as he reached Knockturn Alley, unobstructed and unnoticed to his great relieve, he headed straight for the only wand shop he knew of.
Harry stepped inside and a bell over the door jingled. The place was poorly lit and dusty, not an unusual occurrence for a shop in Knockturn Alley. The walls were filled, floor-to-ceiling, with small wand-sized boxes.
"Hello, young man," an elderly female voice greeted from a small doorway at the back. Harry examined her as she stepped into a better lighted area. He knew this lady; her name was Evelyn Schmichler, a half blood German immigrant who had escaped the horror that had been Nazi Germany. She had been a valuable ally to the resistance. After Ollivander had been taken and killed by Voldemort, this kind lady became the sole maker of wands for the resistance. Voldemort had sent quite a few Death Eaters to kill her but she had been guarded well. If it weren't for her contributions, Harry doubted the war could have been fought for as long as it did and with as few light casualties.
"Hello," Harry replied with a small smile. "I'd like a wand."
She inspected him with amusement, taking note of his child like features and stature. "Then I suppose you've arrived at a helpful destination."
"I'd like a wand without a tracking charm, to be more specific."
"Definitely in the correct place." she announced with a wry grin.
"Excellent. I'll tell you right now that I'm probably going to be hard to match."
Her curiosity peaked. "Have you had a wand before?"
Harry knew he probably looked younger than 10 to her. His body was skinny and malnourished, thanks to the Dursleys' hospitality, and his pre-pubescent voice did nothing to diminish his childlike image.
"Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't." He answered cryptically.
She rolled her hazel eyes, a smile playing on her thin lips. "In the interest of saving time, what were the components of this wand that may or may not have existed?"
"There may have been more than one. The wood of the first might have been holly with a phoenix feather, while the second could have been elder with a thestral tail hair."
"Those are very different wands," Evelyn mused quietly as she hobbled over to the wall of boxes. She paused and examined him with narrowed eyes. "Elder and thestral hair, you say? Curious..." She turned back and began plucking boxes here and there from the walls of wands. Harry stood in silence, content to observe her as she drifted from one portion of the wall to another, occasionally muttering an indistinct phrase. Finally, gathering up a small collection in her arms, she set them down on the counter, instructing Harry to go through them.
Harry didn't even bother to flick most of them. Holding them in his fingers for a moment was enough for him to tell if they were compatible with his magic. Evelyn kept making additional trips to put some wands away while bringing out others. Finally, after nearly forty minutes of trying different wands, he found one that felt right.
He held it in his fingers and sighed as the warmth of the wand traveled up his arm to his core. The wand practically seemed to hum in his hand. "This one," he declared with a confident smile as he examined the black polished wood. "What is it?"
"Yew and a serpent scale core. Twelve and a half inches."
Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. It took him a moment to recuperate from the mild shock of it. "What kind of serpent?"
"A runespore, I believe."
"Oh..." Harry said, rather stunned.
He had no idea what to make of that but decided not to worry about it too much for now, despite the fact that the wand was likely meant for a dark wizard… He suddenly wondered if he was still a Parselmouth. He hadn't even tried to make use of the skill since he'd undergone the ritual had destroyed the horcrux embedded in his soul. He wasn't sure if the skill had stayed with him. Perhaps he could visit a pet shop soon.
"Uh... right. How much?" He asked Evelyn, who had been watching him silently.
"Twelve galleons."
Harry pulled out some coins from the money pouch the goblin at Gringotts had given him. Then, remembering he appeared too young to be carrying around a wand, he asked if there were some holsters available that could keep it hidden.
Evelyn plucked a holster from under her desk and handed it to him. "Here you are. That'll be an extra five galleon. It has an anti-accio charm, a notice-me-not and disillusionment charm." Harry nodded and handed her the coins, smilingly thanking her before walking out of the shop, purchases in hand.
Stepping out with his new wand, Harry felt slightly more secure. He ducked into a public restroom in Diagon Alley and spent a few minutes in front of a mirror making adjustments to his appearance. He would go with glamours for now but would probably try some actual human transfigurations after he had more time to dedicate to the task. A physical transfiguration would stand up better against certain revealing spells and he wouldn't have to worry about it wearing off every day.
He chose not to do anything drastic. He left his hair black but altered the length, so it fell just below shoulder length, with a gently wave at the bottom. Next he smoothed out the skin of his forehead, wiping out the famous scar that had haunted him his entire life. This was a transfiguration that he had been able to do since he had rid himself of the horcrux. His curse scar had always been incredibly stubborn to cover up before that but once the curse was gone it behaved like a normal scar.
He made a few small changes to the shape of his jaw; made his cheek bones a little higher and made the shape of his eyes rounder, choosing to leave them the emerald color they had always been. Then, after frowning at his reflection for another minute, he gave his skin a much tanner complexion. The changes were small but when added together, they made him look decidedly different. At the very least he wasn't a James Potter clone, which was what was really important.
With a few more flicks of his new wand, his stolen wardrobe was transformed into a set of black wizards' robes with a cerulean blue embroidered trim. Next, he conjured himself some socks and trainers. They wouldn't last very long but they would hold up long enough for him to buy some real supplies.
Satisfied with his disguise, Harry departed from the small bathroom. Now that he was suitably camouflaged, he walked slowly and examined Diagon Alley, enjoying feeling the sun on his skin and the happy atmosphere of the area as more people began to arrive. Moments like these had been impossible to come by in his war torn world.
Harry wandered over to Madame Malkin's shop to purchase clothes that weren't conjured up. He would need them once he started Hogwarts. He ended up buying a nice set of robes as well as a pair of loafers and was out in 15 minutes flat.
Next, he found himself in a shop that sold trunks and the like. After a few minutes searching, he decided to just wait until later to get a trunk for Hogwarts. He didn't really need a trunk, they were hard to lug around; the war had taught him that convenience was best. He would get a muggle backpack while he was in London.
After exploring a few more shops, he headed to the Leaky Cauldron to get a room and breakfast to soothe his grumbling stomach.
~2~
Harry laid in bed contemplating the insanity of his life; 24 hours ago he had been in a brutal battle. He had killed Voldemort, the tricky bastard and then, within 2 minutes, his own death arrived, courtesy of Bellatrix LeStrange.
The memory of his defeat left a sour taste in Harry's mouth. After he had killed Voldemort, after years of hard work, seeing his friends die, facing death every day, enduring torture— he had been killed with a killing curse to the back! He recalled vividly the roar of anguish that had erupted from her as Voldemort's body fell lifelessly to the ground. It had been the last thing he heard. Oh yes, he would have to pay her back for that in this world, in the slowest, most excruciatingly painful way possible.
Honestly, the whole thing had been rather anti-climactic. And then Harry had found himself in front of a talking crow who turned out to be the goddess that had trapped him with the whole prophecy business in the first place! It was all absurd.
Morrighan… To think his whole life had been defined by one goddess who apparently had a grudge of some sorts against Riddle. Thanks to her meddling, he was 10 years old again, waiting for his Hogwarts letter as Orion Aubrey.
At least as Orion Aubrey he would be able to avoid the whispers, stares, and double standards that had followed him as Harry Potter. He would be normal. Or at least as normal as a 19 (almost 20) year old, in the body of a 10 year old, from another dimension sent on a mission to kill old snake eyes could be.
Harry had a lot of plans whirling around in his head that he was itching to set into motion. Especially plans regarding Sirius, who was currently stuck in Azkaban being tortured by dementors. Orion Aubrey was pivotal to those plans; he had chosen this name in particular because of a story Remus had told him about Sirius's past. He was working on the assumption that certain details were the same here as they had been in his own world.
Remus had told Harry the story one night when they were both holed up in Shell Cottage with a number of other Order members, about a year and a half before the final battle.
There had been a Slytherin named Bertram Aubrey in their year whom Sirius had hated as much as, if not more than, Severus Snape. He had bullied and teased the boy mercilessly all throughout Hogwarts.
Snape had been singled out by James Potter because Snape had been such close friends with Lily Evans – whom James had fancied. Aubrey was singled out by Sirius because of his twin sister, a Gryffindor girl named Erin. Bertram, a Slytherin, had considered his sister a disgrace to the family name. Erin had been one of the more timid Gryffindors and she had taken her brother's abuse without protest. Sirius had viewed her as a kindred spirit of sorts, since they both came from Dark families and had been sorted into a predominantly 'light' house. So he had stood up for her by tormenting her brother.
It had helped Harry to understand that there were some vaguely reasonable motives behind his father and godfather's torment of certain students at the school, although that didn't justify their actions to him completely. He was still rather unhappy with the idea of them being bullies, but he understood the error youth conferred.
The interesting thing about all of this, however, was that even after graduation Sirius had kept in touch with Erin Aubrey. Sirius was a ladies man and was never one for settling down but Remus told Harry that during Sirius's last year, while confined to Grimmauld Place, he had confided in Remus that he and Erin had had an on-and-off thing for years. Sirius had even made plans to look her up again if he ever managed to prove his innocence. That plan had been thrashed when he learned that she had gone missing only a few months after he got sent to Azkaban.
It was this story that had first inspired the fake identity that Harry had created. Of course, his plan would only work if the same set of events had happened in this world. If Erin Aubrey hadn't disappeared here, he was going to have to scramble for a different idea.
The idea was fairly simple: He would pretend to be the illegitimate bastard child of Sirius Black. The story would be that Erin Aubrey had had gotten pregnant with Sirius' child but had decided not to tell him. She'd realized that Sirius was not one for settling down, plus he was an Auror and Order member and was deeply involved with the war. Erin hadn't wanted her child to have anything to do with the war so she'd kept the child secret from everyone, including Sirius. She had, however, chosen to honor Sirius by sticking with the Black family constellation-based naming system – thus the first name 'Orion'.
Harry would say that he and his mum had gone abroad and stayed uninformed about the events in England. But when his 'mum' had died a year ago, he had decided to come back to Britain in hopes of proving his father innocent because Erin had been convinced that Sirius wouldn't have betrayed his best mate, James Potter.
In Harry's world, the real Erin Aubrey had disappeared – not necessarily died – although most assumed the latter. No one had known what had happened to her, so it gave Harry a family tree to claim attachment to without having to worry about those pesky papers to prove it. Erin Aubrey had been an outcast in her primarily dark family for her affiliation with the Light side and her refusal to follow her family into the war. It would make sense for her to run off and vanish with her child if she was hoping to keep him away from all that. This story would also explain away why Harry would bother trying to get Sirius freed without anyone calling his motives into question.
With these foundational details laid out in his mind, Harry allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
~2~
Harry woke up 3 hours later, despite having been exhausted before his nap. This was a consequence of having lived through a war where sleeping a few hours had been a delightful privilege.
He got up, stretched, and walked to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cold water. It was strange to see a ten year old peering back at him when yesterday he had been a nineteen year old with stubble and war scars. Shaking his head at the oddity, he took off his conjured robe and threw on one he had bought from Madam Malkin's that morning and slipped on his shoes. It was time to do some research.
For the next six hours, Harry was buried in the history section of the Ministry's Public Library in an effort to reacquaint himself with any glaring deviations between this new world and his old. There weren't many in regards to history that he could find. But then again, history had never been his forte; for all he knew, something may have changed and he simply hadn't noticed.
To his pleasure, the building beside the library was the Magical Genealogy and Family Tree Preservation Center which housed copies of the old pure-blood family tapestries. They were self-updating, for which he was thankful. This meant he could look up the Aubreys and other pure blood or famous families that he had known in his world, such as the Malfoys, Weasleys, and Dumbledores, and search for discrepancies.
In addition to the family trees, there were also books detailing the finer achievements of most of the significant families. There was a large amount of detail available that he could use to support his future claims. Harry supposed it made sense for people who put so much weight and importance on their blood lineage and family history to keep solid records, but the fact that so much of it was divulged to the public surprised him.
One afternoon spent at the Genealogy society was enough to confirm that the histories of Erin Aubrey seemed the same: Erin Aubrey had been sorted into Gryffindor; had turned up missing the same year that Voldemort had been 'vanquished' and Sirius had been sent off to Azkaban. No body had been found but she was presumed dead.
Erin had also been officially disowned, which meant her line was no longer magically updated on the family tapestry. This was an added boon for Harry since no one could claim that his absence from the family tree proved that he wasn't her son. Harry smirked at how smoothly his plan would work out. All he needed now were a couple of forged documents that would help validate some of his claims. A quick glance at the clock informed him that it was only 5 PM. Stretching, Harry replaced the books he had been examining in their rightful place and left the building.
Harry entered Knockturn Alley to visit a shop whose services he had once used when he had been on the run. It had been handy having some sort of paperwork in a world where being suspected as Harry Potter meant that one was automatically a desired target for anyone who wished to please the Dark Lord.
The shop was dimly lit and dusty, although no bells were heard as he opened the door. Harry sat down on wooden chair to wait for the owner to notice him. It didn't take too long.
"Well, well, well… what brings you here, little boy?" The shop keeper had a hunched back; his hair was wispy and grey and his expression lines were engraved into his face, an obvious sign of his advanced age. He was simpering at Harry presently, hands clasped, eyes narrowed, tone falsely sweet.
"I need some papers made. I was referred to this shop by some friends…" Harry glanced around, letting a disgusted sneer pass across his features. "They said you could do so in strict confidence." He finished, emerald eyes on the shopkeeper once more.
"I can keep things in confidence, true, but what sort of papers would someone of your stature require?" inquired the shopkeeper mockingly. Harry winced inwardly; this man would be hard pressed to take him seriously. Even if he attempted to act like a spoiled pure blood aristocrat, his work would not get done. Suddenly he grinned. Then he would have to act like Harry… plain old Harry.
An hour later, Harry stepped casually out of the shop feeling amazingly accomplished, the screams of the old man still echoing in his ears. Now he had only to come back tomorrow morning to pick up the papers. Free of charge, the old man had assured him. All it had taken was some fake Parseltongue, a couple of Crucios and a "you dare disrespect the Dark Lord" and his work had been done. The irony was not lost on Harry. 'Voldemort' was aiding in Sirius' release. Harry chuckled; he had to get his kicks from somewhere.
~2~
"Please state your name and the nature of your visit to the Ministry of Magic."
"Orion Aubrey. Meeting with Arthur Weasley," Harry enunciated into the red phone he held up to his ear.
"Thank you. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic."
Harry replaced the hand set and a little red badge came out of the coin slot displaying his name and stated purpose. He waited, eyes closed, as the phone booth traveled downwards, using the time to take a few calming, deep breaths. Hearing a ding, he opened his eyes as the door swung open with a smooth swoosh.
Harry stepped into the Atrium and slipped past the wand checking station with a charming smile. No one expected a wimpy kid to have a wand and Harry gladly took advantage of the ageist fact. He strode confidently and with purpose towards Author Weasley's department. No one glanced at him twice and inwardly Harry couldn't help but scoff at how simple it was. He could have been a Death Eater disguised as a child for pity's sake!
Arthur Weasley was not aware of his arrival. How could he? Harry had been in this new universe for less than three days. Now he was working on the first step of his plan that would hopefully get his godfather – or who he was now going to be claiming was his father–freed from Azkaban.
Inwardly ranting about the lax security and the overall stupidity of the Ministry, Harry stopped as he reached his destination. He was relieved to see the familiar, although younger than he remembered, redheaded man sitting behind his desk surrounded by stacks of paperwork. Harry knocked on the glass door and Mr. Weasley's head popped up.
The confusion written on his face was plainly visible but he nodded and waved Harry in regardless.
"Hello, sir. Is your name Arthur Weasley?" Harry inquired as he stepped into the room, closing the glass door behind him.
"Yes." Mr. Weasley confirmed, eyeing Harry curiously. "What can I do for you, lad?"
"My name is Orion Aubrey. I was hoping to speak to you about a rather… serious… matter. If you have the time that is…" he trailed off, giving the man his best pleading look.
"Something serious, you say? Well, I can certainly make time. Have a seat." Mr. Weasley said, gesturing towards the seat in front of him with a kindly smile on his face.
"Thank you, sir."
"Now," Mr. Weasley began, "What is this about, then?"
Harry paused, giving the illusion he was collecting his thoughts. Inwardly however, he knew exactly what he would say, having planned this meeting meticulously in his head.
"Well," he started, "I know this is going to sound odd but please humor me. Have you by chance seen a fat, grey rat with a missing finger on its front paw?"
Mr. Weasley leaned back in his chair, thrown off. But then, as he processed the question fully, realization dawned. "Why, yes! My son Percy has a pet that matches that description."
"He's a pet! Really?" Harry exclaimed, appearing shocked and not a little bit horrified.
Mr. Weasley's brows furrowed. "Yes, he is. Why do you ask?"
"Where did your son get this rat?"
Mr. Weasley was obviously bewildered but he didn't hesitate in answering. "Percy found him in our garden several years ago."
"How many yearsago would you say?" Harry pressed.
"Um… well... Merlin, I think it's been about seven years now!"
Bingo. "Seven years is a pretty long life span for a rat, don't you think Mr. Weasley?"
"I suppose… What is this about, exactly?" Mr. Weasley asked. He couldn't help but feel slightly anxious by what this strange line of questioning.
"I have cause to believe that this rat, living with your family, might not actually be a rat."
Now Mr. Weasley's expression began to shift to a mixture of concern and disbelief. "What gives you that idea?"
"I commissioned someone to perform a complex charm to locate a wizard whom I've been searching for. I believe he is an animagus who's been using his ability to hide. The charm put his location in your home."
Mr. Weasley paled noticeably. "A wizard? Really?" he gasped in a hushed voice. "In hiding— pretending to be my son's pet?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "It gets worse, sir. He's actually a Death Eater. He's killed dozens of muggles and he was the one who framed my father for that very same crime! I'm trying to prove my father's innocence, you see. But I can't do that until the man who actually committed the crimes is found— and I'm pretty sure I've found him."
Mr. Weasley was aghast at this strange revelation. Harry continued, chuckling gleefully in his mind. "My mum always told me my father, Sirius Black, couldn't have been the Potter family's secret keeper."
"Sirius Black is your father?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. My mother was of the opinion it was Peter Pettigrew who framed my father, for the sake of the Dark Lord."
"Why, you're serious!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, eyes widening as Harry's words sunk in.
"No, sir. That would be my father." Harry commented wryly with a slight smirk playing on his lips. Mr. Weasley blinked. "The issue at hand, sir, that of Peter Pettigrew, the murdering Death Eater, pretending to be a pet and sleeping in your son's bed for years, is one that should be addressed immediately."
A few minutes later found Mr. Weasley and Harry heading to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Luckily for them the woman who headed the department, Amelia Bones, was walking through the very same corridor. The unexpected meeting resulted in the three of them sitting in her office with Harry once again recounting his tale.
At first, Bones seemed to be simply humoring Harry and Mr. Weasley. But when she pulled up the file on Sirius Black, she saw that he had, in fact, been denied a trial and simply been hauled off to Azkaban. A travesty!
Her face was solemn as she looked up from the file. "Mr. Aubrey. What occurred to your father is simply unacceptable. It is disgusting. As such, you have my word that this case will be re-opened and Mr. Black will receive the fair and just trial he deserved in the first place. Not only that but I personally, along with my two best Aurors, will investigate your claims in regards to Peter Pettigrew."
Harry thanked her and Mr. Weasley profusely. He knew he could count on Madam Bones to find Peter. As much as he would have liked to find the dirty bastard himself (and throw a couple of Crucios his way) that would have complicated matters. He wanted Sirius out of Azkaban with as little hassle as possible; he needed this to be squeaky clean.
Harry wasn't allowed to go with Madam Bones and her Aurors to the Weasley's house to search for the rat, but he had expected that. He informed the adults that he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, since he had only been in the country for a few days, and Madam Bones promised to contact him if they discovered that his assumptions were correct. He thanked them again and played up the 'I just want to prove my daddy innocent' card before leaving the Ministry with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
~2~
The following morning found Harry examining himself critically in the mirror. He still wasn't very used to seeing the fresh, innocent looking child that he appeared to be… Hearing a knocking sound at his window, he marched over and threw his window open, letting an owl land inside. It landed on a wooden desk, and stuck out its leg to offer Harry the letter it carried.
He deftly worked the letter free. It was addressed to Mr. Orion Aubrey, Room 4, The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, London. On the back, the envelope was sealed shut with red wax and the Hogwarts emblem stamped on to it. His Hogwarts acceptance letter.
Orion Aubrey. Morrighan had done it; the school really did have him down by another name. He broke the seal and pulled out the sheets of parchment within.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Aubrey,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
It was exactly the same, aside from the Mr. Aubrey bit. He put the letter down on the desk besides the owl. Noticing the tired look the owl gave him, he moved to get it some sort of treat; however, the supply list caught his attention. On first glance, it looked the same as the one in Harry's original world but he did a quick double-take on the defense text book.
He was pretty sure that the book that had been assigned his first year had been 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection'by Quentin Trimble, but that wasn't the book listed here. Instead it listed 'Theoretical Introduction of Dark Magic and the Practical Application of its Defense' by Hecate Terminus.
Definitely worthy of a double-take. Harry had read that book. It was an excellent book. But he was stunned to see that it was being used as a textbook. The book, while claiming to only cover a 'theoretical introduction' to the dark arts, provided basic instruction on the dark arts. It was based on the idea that one couldn't defend oneself against dark magic without an adequate understanding of what Dark magic was— a view with which Harry agreed, but wasn't exactly a Ministry-approved mindset.
It was at this moment that Harry fully comprehended the unusual fact that he was likely to have a competent defense instructor. A smile spread across his face at the thought.
'The Defense position isn't jinxed here. Whoever's teaching the subject has probably been teaching it for years. It's someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing!'
His peers wouldn't be completely inept at Defense. That had been one of the most frustrating things to deal with during the war. Everyone who had been instructed at Hogwarts for the last twenty years had had the most pathetic and worthless defense education imaginable. But that wouldn't be the case here, thank Merlin!
With a gleeful laugh, Harry moved again to get the owl the treat it deserved. After he had done so, he took his list, his wand, and his moneybag out into the Alley to get some shopping done. It looked to be a good day.
~2~
Four hours later, Harry was ready to hit the hay. He had bought all his required texts for Hogwarts and then some. He had never had much interest to learn on his own but now that he had the time, he may as well do the crime. He had also journeyed to muggle London and gotten some much needed clothing and sneakers. A few more miscellaneous items and Harry was all shopped out. After depositing his bags in his room, he ordered lunch from Tom and began to think as he ate.
He no longer had a cursed scar, which meant one less horcrux to find and destroy. However, working under the assumption that Voldemort had created seven in this world might be risky. There was always a chance that he hadn't. After all, things were different here, right?
Morrighan had not denied the existence of the Diadem, at least. And his scar had also, it appeared, housed a horcrux in this world. So it was likely, although not completely guaranteed, that the others also existed in similar manners. He ticked off the multiple horcruxes in his head.
The scar was taken care of. The diadem's location was currently unknown to him but at least he knew it existed. Salazar Slytherin's locket was most likely at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place or the cave with the inferi. He hoped it was the former, it would be easier to access. If he tried going to the cave alone… he doubted he'd be able to come out in one piece, if at all. Nagini was most likely to be with Voldemort if he was still alive in his wraith state, since he had initially lived off her venom… Tom Riddle's diary would be with Lucius Malfoy, before being passed on to Ginny. There was also the Gaunt ring to consider. One of the deathly Hallows. It had been hidden at the Gaunt place of residence, under a series of complex charms and curses that he doubted he could break on his own. He would also need to validate and find Hufflepuff's cup, which had been in Bellatrix's vault for safe keeping in his world...
Thinking of Bellatrix dredged up unpleasant memories which he hastily pushed aside. He had no confirmation about whether these specific horcruxes were even made. What if Voldemort made 4 here? Or 8? 9? 15? 17? He didn't know! This was the most frustrating thing about this whole affair. Harry had come a long way from the hero who rushed into action at the mere hint of trouble. He now understood he needed real intelligence…soon.
Harry hadn't heard from Madam Bones yet about Pettigrew. He could only hope that the bastard hadn't escaped and was with Voldemort somewhere. That would mean that Voldemort could perform the ritual required to get a body. And with Harry Potter supposedly dead, Voldemort would not be fixated on using a specific enemy for the ritual. That didn't sound good for Harry at all. The only thing Harry would have going for him would be the blood protections. Although, those were next to useless because it would be highly unlikely Voldemort himself would try to attack a young and harmless Orion Aubrey. And Harry wasn't ready to go hunt for Voldemort himself.
Pushing his aggravating thoughts out of his mind, he wolfed down his remaining food and decided to figure out at least one thing today. He paid Tom for the lunch before proceeding to walk out of the pub. Blinking at the sunlight that illuminated the outside world, he paused as his eyes adjusted before making a beeline towards the nearest pet shop.
Harry ignored the clerk, who greeted him with a cheery 'good afternoon', and made his way directly towards the reptile section. Barely glancing at the lizards, frogs and salamanders, he stopped in front of a serpent's glass container. Now he could see if he was still a Parselmouth. Focusing on the small but beautiful snake inside, he whispered a tentative 'hello'. Nothing happened. The snake was still lounging in the light.
Harry couldn't stop the disappointed sigh that escaped him. He had gotten to enjoy his Parselmouth ability. Glancing sadly at the snake, he walked out of the shop.
~2~
A/N: Thanks for reading :)
