Well, well, well. Look whose here with an update at long last.
My exams are finally over, and I didn't do too badly at them, so the updates are going to be faster, and longer too, hopefully.
Without further ado, Ladies, gentlemen and Hermaphrodites, I give you the final chapter of
Arc 1: The Summer of Change.
This also serves as the first chapter of
Arc 2: Some cool phrase that has Hogwarts in it.
29th August 1994
Casa De Sharr
Unplottable Location
Harry Potter was bored. Just an hour ago, he'd left the time acceleration field, where he'd been practicing magic hard, in order to get it back under control after bonding to a ley line. The process had freed his core of the various blocks that had been placed upon it by Dumbledore, which had enabled him to spend quite a bit of time mastering all sorts of ancient and arcane magic. He wasn't done, not by a long, long margin, but he now had a firm grounding.
Another thing he'd practised were the various physical arts like martial arts and training that he'd stolen from all sorts of experts around the globe.
A couple of potions here, a small blood magic ritual there, and Harry had done in weeks what Muggles spent decades practicing.
Magic really was the most powerful force in existence.
And that brought him to a rather lengthy tangent.
Namely, the hypocrisy that a Muggleborn witch or wizard was capable of.
Harry had, for the longest period of time, believed that Muggles were an actual consideration in a wizard's everyday life. With the things that Granger had been screaming all through his Hogwarts carrier, Harry had even begun to believe that Muggles could be superior to wizards.
He was far from the only one to think so, as almost every Muggleborn was fond of screaming about how wizards were lazy, how they lacked common sense, how they wouldn't last a day if the Muggles found out about them, how wizardkind was stuck in the past, et al.
They made fun of wizarding traditions, called the magical world a stuck-up, backward place. They disrespected anything and everything around them, and then they had the nerve to cry out when they got the same from the wizards.
They discriminated among themselves on all bases; caste, colour, country, religion, just about anything and everything one could think of. Harry remembered from Tom's memories that the white Muggleborns had been particularly odious in his time, going on and on about how the 'niggers' and 'wogs' were allowed to attend Hogwarts freely.
The Muggleborns were single-handedly responsible for the creature prosecution that was currently prevalent in the world. They were the ones who had 'educated' their wizard-bred friends about the danger of associating with the 'freaks'.
Then when the discrimination turned towards them, they were again quick to whine, calling the magical world stuck in the past.
The latest trend was about how the wizards could never stand against the great Muggle armies, if the truth ever became known. That one, when Harry had thought a bit on it, had him laughing despite his Occlumency.
The Muggles were many, yes, but Harry knew that the sheer number of ways by which a properly trained group of wizards could go out, exterminate Muggle-kind, and still be back in time for dinner was so vast that it wasn't even funny.
If Harry were to choose to kill a few million Muggles, then what would it take?
Five seconds to Apparate to the heart of, say, Los Angeles.
Then, a wave of his wand to transfigure every particle of air in the city into carbon monoxide, followed by an apparition out of the city. With gas to gas transfiguration being as easy as it was, even the vast amount would, at best, leave him breathless for a few seconds.
Granted, the spell itself required at least a passing familiarity with atomic structures and some minor alchemical talent, but a properly trained group of wizards would have those, wouldn't they?
If he felt like it, he could even stop and setup something to keep all the air in.
Or if he didn't want to do that, he could simply walk around, turning concrete into talcum powder. That would be a sight to see, wouldn't it?
Harry chuckled. There had been some particularly moronic Muggleborns stupid enough to call transfiguration parlour tricks, but that was just another example.
After all, there was a reason why the families like the Flamels and the Potters were feared without ever having been particularly interested in any of the traditionally 'dark' arts.
Coming back to the point, Harry had pondered this for a long time while in the acceleration chamber; and his resolve had only been strengthened. Muggles were a problem that would need to be taken care of, while the Muggleborns would have to be assimilated into their entirety into the magical world.
That was why he was currently holding the copy of Malleus Maleficarum: A Muggle's opinion of the Magical world. He had spent quite a bit of time changing the book's terminology to suit the current century.
He smiled slightly as he thought of the ruckus its release would cause. He could practically smell public opinion turning against those without magic, even as Dumbledore and his ilk ran around like the headless chicken they were. There would, of course, be repercussions, some of them even against Harry.
But there wasn't anything anyone could hope to do against 'd been careful so that none of it was outright lies, and the magical people weren't ones to care all that much for trivialities.
There was a huge array of legislation that he needed to get passed, and this book, once it was released by Althric Chroniclers, would be nothing short of priceless.
It would come as a precursor to a series of articles in the Daily Prophet detailing the exact death tolls that the Muggles caused wherever they went bringing their version of 'civilization', not to mention the war after war they were so fond of fighting.
Harry had, after great effort, managed to acquire a significant shareholding in the Daily Prophet, enough to dictate policy, especially as the policy coincided with the opinions of the other major shareholders.
Harry had just sent the book off with an owl to the presses when his ring alerted him to something. Closing his eyes, he focused on the connection, traversing through the week's events till he realized just what it was. The nexus he'd activated so many days ago had completed its work.
His AI was ready.
Apparating straight to the chamber where he'd left the computers working, Harry gave the mental command for the final step to begin.
Immediately, the runes glowed, before starting to fade away, even as the central crystal of the nexus star glowed brighter and brighter.
Harry knew what was happening. The millions upon millions of lines of program code that comprised the AI were being converted into magical commands, the digital nature of them being replaced by Harry's own magic.
Soon, it was over. The star descended to float at the level of Harry's waist, and he reached out and plucked the central crystal from its setting.
Turning around, Harry Apparated to the Peverell Hall where he'd left the computer itself after converting it in its entirety to a magical nexus. It was ready, as it had been for the last several days. The power was connected, the runes were ready, and they glowed with a steady hum as Harry gave the activation command.
The front panel opened to reveal a socket just like what had been there in the construction nexus, and Harry placed the crystal inside it, the panel closing moments later.
Then, the real noises started. The whole machine whistled, hummed, vibrated, different parts glowing in different colours, till the screen lit up with the face of one of those Muggle actresses that he'd saved in the databanks.
"Hello, Harry." It said.
"Hi, Selene" he answered.
He is a confirmed ally to both HarryPotter and Damien Peverell, with suspected ties to Aries Black. The exact actions, if any, that have been taken by him in recent times are unknown, but keeping in account the sheer range of magic that his family is permitted to do, the threat level has been raised accordingly.
Also, it is now confirmed that he is the uncle of HarryPotter through his sister, and had already designated the boy his heir.
Yours
Alastor Moody
Dumbledore sighed as he closed the dossier on Erebus Sharr. It was the thinnest of the three dossiers sitting currently on his desk, and he didn't know just what to make of the new developments that had occurred this summer.
Four dead families being resurrected, innumerable plans destroyed, he himself having been placed in a tenuous position, Azkaban returning to the Peverells, a new company having risen and growing at a dangerous pace, the list went on.
There had been a lot of changes this summer, and Albus didn't like any one of them. Unfortunately, strategy had never been one of his strengths, and he didn't have even the slightest idea of what to do.
Worst of all were the rumours about Bertha Jorkins, the missing staffer from the Games Department The last location Albus's spies had been able to place her at was dangerously close to Albania, where he knew Voldemort to be hidden.
The last thing Albus needed was Voldemort returning on top of the mess that was already going on. Voldemort would have to return one day, yes, but that day would have to be delayed as long as possible while he got Harry under control. Or barring that, at least got some sort of alliance with the boy.
Albus had been revising his plans for Harry for the last several days. With him having claimed his lordships and inheritances, Harry would be very difficult to control.
Difficult, as in completely impossible
So, Albus's best bet then lay in brokering some sort of alliance with the boy, to get him to forgive Albus for the crimes he'd no doubt discovered by now. After all, it wasn't as if he could have found out about the blocks on his magic, or his core. The Potters had never possessed particularly strong mind magic abilities, and this Potter should be no exception.
As far as the Slytherins were concerned, he had won it by right of conquest, and that didn't give any abilities.
Or so he thought.
Anyway, Dumbledore was confident he would be able to secure at least an alliance with Harry, for the coming war with Voldemort, whenever it came.
Dumbledore sighed as he pulled out his wand, giving it a casual flick. The simple action accomplished three things. First, it summoned a small portable fire, one of those developed in ancient Kashmir, along with a small pot of Floo powder.
Secondly, it activated the floating runes on the undersides of both vessels, and thirdly, it ignited the fire in the angithi.
He had a few calls to make.
Harry was busy.
He had spent the last several hours fitting out numerous contraptions that he'd made for this day, and it was extremely important that the proper settings be done as soon as possible. He had to be at Hogwarts the very next day, and the sooner Selene took over running the things that he intended it to, the better it would be for Harry.
That was the reason he had invented scanners, capable of analysing massive amounts of information and converting it first in electronic signals and later in thought-essence.
These scanners had just now been fitted onto the Grimoires, Ledgers, Blackmail and favour records and selected parts of the Lords' Journals for the families that were Harry's.
Soon, they would be finished with the transcribing, making the system fully capable of performing the tasks that it was meant to. And Harry had quite a few things in mind for the AI. There were factories that would be controlled by her, potions brewed, not to mention several specific tasks that required levels of precision that a human simply wasn't able to provide.
The single most important such operation was the production of magical crystals.
Magical crystals were among the most precious items in the world. They were gems that grew in a myriad of densely magical environments, and developed magic of their own.
Despite the huge range of different powers that they could have, one thing that could always be done with them was to store vast amounts of magic. A small ring-stone could contain enough magic to move mountains, and still not be full.
For this reason, they were extremely useful in wards, artefacts and amulets of all kinds.
The problem with them had been that they grew in extremely precise environments, meaning that artificial production was downright impossible.
Many a wizard had gone bankrupt without harvesting a single crystal, to the point that the rest were left too cowed to try.
For wizards, it was like going into space. They had the technology and abilities to do it easily enough, but the practical application was always derailed by one thing or the other.
Indeed, Harry had been surprised by the specifications himself. One speck of dust out of place, one iota of magic too much, and the whole apparatus could blow up in his face.
That was why Harry, after giving the procedures a thorough look-over, had decided that it was a task best tackled by something that was meant to work with supernatural precision. That is, a computer.
So with Selene now online, one of her first functions would be to start the functioning of the crystal reserves, among the other factories and farms.
Seeing as Harry wasn't a complete moron, he wouldn't be handing over control of all his assets to the computer, but nonetheless, a large number of his vassals could now be devoted solely to an army.
Apart from that, there were the preparations for the more explosive artworks that Phoenix Auctioneers were suddenly going to 'discover', along with numerous other odds and ends to complete before Harry went to Hogwarts.
Speaking of vassals, Harry had to arrange the distribution of the wands that had arrived, and then start the men and women on their training inside the acceleration fields.
So much to do, so little time…
Soon, the day was past.
As August ended and Hogwarts neared, Harry permitted himself a small smile. He was going back to Hogwarts.
He imagined thatin the days to come, many would ask just why he was doing this. Why bother with Hogwarts, when he had far better opportunities outside it?
Why shackle himself, bound to the place?
The answer, as always, was power.
Hogwarts was going to be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. Harry intended to take part, and not just that, he intended to win.
The reasons behind that were manifold.
Harry was one of the wealthiest wizards alive. He was also one of the most powerful.
Barely on the second, but true nonetheless.
These were things that were useful only in the public domain.
People needed to know that he was there. They needed to see his wealth, his power, his decision making abilities, if they were going to acknowledge him as a leader.
It wasn't like the world of Muggles, where money and political power were enough.
In the magical world, one wizard could be weak, barely able to do even the simplest of spells, for example Ronald Weasley or Peter Pettigrew.
Or, they could be gods. Merlin, Slytherin, Voldemort, and Dumbledore were examples of this.
In a world where men could be both near-gods and insects, personal, magical power in huge quantities was vital for any real leader. It was one of the reasons why the Fudge administration was mocked so openly by the old families. There wasn't a decent wizard among all of Fudge's cronies, and therefore no one who could be seen as the 'great' one.
The title of the most powerful wizard of the age was secure in Dumbledore's hands, but not for long if Harry had anything to say about it. He knew, just as he was sure Dumbledore himself knew, that Dumbledore was an old husk of a wizard. As powerful as the man was, he wouldn't be seeing the twenty-first century.
Of course, what made the whole thing complicated was the fact that a lot of other people knew it too. The fact was that an extremely powerful figure was needed, to be the leader of the British people. As Dumbledore's time was long past, the worry in the minds of the 'Light' was that the next would inevitably be Lord Voldemort.
It was an obvious thing, really.
Ignorant though the average British wizard nowadays was, everyone knew just what awaited them beyond their borders. The guilds, the demon hunters, the Conclave of Hundred Families, the ICW, they were all salivating, eager to at last take the pounds of flesh they all believed were owed to them for Britain's reign over the last millennium.
The basic reasons for this were the Merlinian Accords.
Almost nineteen hundred years ago, the world had been a very different place. Rome had just fallen, and the new star on the rise was one of a small island on the north-western corner of Europe. This had been known, as so many things were, by those who knew how to read the patterns of magic.
The processes and the studies were long and tedious, but it all boiled down to a few simple facts.
As every half-decent wizard knew (which explained why most of the wizarding world of today didn't), all magic in the Earth was regulated in the form of ley lines. Over the Earth was similar, although the amounts were slightly more diffused, owing largely to the movement of people or beings.
But the fact was, there were roughly Forty-two primary ley lines. These were not fixed at their spots, and therein was the crux of the matter.
The primary ley lines of the Earth tended to shift and move, according to what several believed was the will of magic herself. The shifting took place at completely random intervals (which was a major argument in favour of the 'magic's will' theorists).
The shifting patterns, too, were completely random.
What wasn't random was the fact that with every shift, several leylines connected and formed clusters, while previous clusters dissolved.
Another thing that wasn't random was that every shift invariably led to the rise of a world empire. The longevity of the empire along with its panache, were both directly proportional to the size of the clusters that formed within its domain.
It was an obvious and fully explainable thing, of course. Formation of leyline clusters meant that the core sizes and abilities of the people born in the area skyrocketed.
The average number of wizards rose as the fertility of the witches were more Elementals, more Metamorphmagi, more Necromancers and Blood Mages. The average core sizes and levels of talent increased by factors of ten, as did therefore their longevity and power.
All of these things inevitably resulted in a desire to see their enemies fall before them, meaning the rise of an empire.
This was what had happened. The lines had shifted, and the cluster of nine lines that had existed in Italy was no more. Instead, ten lines had connected in Britain.
Naturally, the first to realize this were the families. They rushed to the country where the tribes were just beginning to enjoy the first benefits, preparing for the wars that would inevitably be coming.
And come they did.
Almost seventy families had come to the island, all in a hurry.
When the dust settled, The Sharrs had three lines, the Gryffindors two, with similar distributions secured among the rest for the five lines. By then, no one cared, because the thing that had everyone shocked and awed was that no less than two Primary Lines and twenty secondary ones were controlled by a minor family, not even ancient and noble.
Oh, the lineage of the Lord was excellent, tracing direct relation to no less than three Eldritch Houses and five Ancient and Noble ones, but the family itself was minor.
Its name? It was Pendragon.
After that, it was endless war. Family raged against family to get at those precious keystones, and the Thames ran crimson a thousand times over.
Then something no one could predict happened.
The Pendragons had secured the support of another minor house, one which controlled no less than a full dozen secondary lines.
Its name was Emrys.
After that, it was almost easy for the young warlord called Uther.
He started a brutal campaign of conquest, meeting and felling family after family. He didn't dare go after the Greater houses for a long time, but when he did, it was with a force that surpassed all their imaginations.
What was and remains the most important thing was that not only did Uther have a huge army and a near limitless amount of raw power from his lines, his personal power was gigantic.
Not that the other warlords were slouches; far from it, but Uther Pendragon could only be considered a god by today's standards.
The other lords were powerful, but they were not Uther Pendragon.
A bloody war ensued for a long time after that, but in time, it became evident that no clear end was in sight. Both sides were too evenly matched, with the Eldritch and Great families having their Incredibly Esoteric Arts, and Uther and his followers with their raw power.
Many died, but eventually, a meeting was called.
They all conferred, and the decision was reached that they would all bend their knees, subject to certain conditions.
No houses would be made extinct under any conditions. All of the Great families would maintain semi-autonomy, in addition to the Eldritch Families being acknowledged as perpetual Royal Houses.
To make it proper, Uther fathered six daughters, wedding them all to the heirs of the families.
Similarly, each of the Ancient and Noble houses would be named Nobles of the highest ranks, although their titles differed.
This was the reason why the house of Black, despite only being a Baronetcy, outranked quite a few Earldoms and Counties.
Still, what mattered more was that peace had finally come to England. This, quite obviously, meant that the time had come for the rest of the world to be very, very afraid for what the future would bring.
As it was, it didn't bring nice things for them.
The campaign that was launched was long, bloody and brutal. For nearly a full century, nation after nation crumbled before the armies of Avalon.
And what armies they were!
The undead scourges, brought by the unholy trinity of Betelgeuse the Black, Nathaniel the Bone master and Dreadlord Kharaidon Peverell, the demon armies of nevernever, summoned by Timonzel Sharr the Stormbringer (titled so after another of his abilities), the hundreds of reptiles, of all sizes and powers, commanded by Hasturus Slytherin, the elemental legions, led by Ajihad Gryffindor.
These were but a fraction of the true might that was brought to bear by the families of Brittania, the might that crushed and humiliated all that lay in sight.
The only exception was Asia, but that is a story for another time.
By the time Uther succumbed to extreme old age, he had not just established one of the greatest empires on Earth, but also secured its future, in the form of his loyal protégé the new lord of House Emrys, a lad called Myriddin. He too, had a huge magical core, and had been trained to be able to use it extremely effectively.
Soon, Uther's favourite son, Arthur ascended to the throne. He too, proved soon to be cut from the same cloth as his father, actually surpassing him in quite a few fields.
But the utopia ended, when Arthur died childless.
Had he not, it was almost certain that the history of the world would have been different. But he did, and it meant the return of the wars that had ravaged the land such a short time ago.
Had it not been for the Warlocks of the Round Table, the nation would doubtless have been doomed in its infancy. Even with them, large portions of the empire seceded, forming nations that today had names like France, Spain and Italy.
But the Camelotians weren't left broken by any estimate.
They may have lost the conquered ley lines, but the home cluster of ten was still theirs. As the Wizengamot formed the first semi-democracy of the world, armies again marched from Avalon. It wasn't easy, but the erstwhile rulers had learned their lessons.
They came not to conquer, but to take and destroy.
Europe burned.
At long last, the time came when the armies felt tired. They retreated to the island, but they left it to Myriddin Emrys, now called Merlin, to form a set of treaties that would keep Britain as the unquestioned leader of the world for the foreseeable future.
These were the Merlinian accords, and they made the Treaty of Versailles look like a rather fair deal.
Still, what all this meant in today's time was that the British people, despite being almost wholly unaware of the details, all realized that the rest of the world hated and feared them equally.
This meant that the most vital thing for them, at all times, was the presence at the helm of the nation, of a wizard so powerful, so terrifying, that the rest of the world remembered, and the fear in their minds remained stronger than the hatred.
Currently the role was filled by Dumbledore, and the reason why the Wizengamot and the ministry were knee deep in worry was that the only possible replacement appeared to be Voldemort. This was why, were Dumbledore to die, the nation would quietly accept Voldemort as its new ruler.
Only, the more intelligent people realized that this was not just worrying but also the recipe for unmitigated disaster.
Voldemort was powerful enough, certainly. The problem was that he was also a confirmed lunatic, liable to destroy the nation as soon as he got his hands on it.
Tom Marvolo Riddle had been one of the most powerful and intelligent wizards ever to be born. Lord Voldemort was a slobbering maniac. Where Tom Riddle could have been a capable Dictator, Voldemort could only ever be a Devastator.
Therefore, what Harry needed to do was to establish himself as a suitable (in fact, the only suitable) successor to Dumbledore as the meanest motherfucker of them all, and therefore the de facto ruler of Britain.
The fact that Harry's plans included quite a bit more than Britain was just a happy coincidence.
With that sort of target, it made his current status look positively paltry in comparison.
He had achieved mastery level skills in all of the wanded subjects. This, while impressive, was nothing a lot others hadn't done before. Then he was among the best Mind Mages alive. This was a real accomplishment, but could only be considered a beginner's step.
Harry's greatest hope was not in the things that he already had mastered, but in those pieces of magic that he was going to now learn.
The arcane magic, the untamed arts, these were the names given to the really powerful magic, ones like Necromancy, Summoning, Invocation, Dimensional magic, and Time magic, to name but a few.
What had been rather surprising for him then, and was the way to Archmagus level power for him now, was the fact that Harry had extremely powerful affinities for each and every one of these fields. In a circumstance where having one affinity was extremely rare, the number of branches of magic that Harry could access was nothing short of unbelievable.
In addition to being incredibly surprising, it was also suspicious.
Harry had never been arrogant enough to simply take such an array of abilities for granted, and had quite a bit of time investigating.
He hadn't gotten any conclusive results, but a probable cause had been identified in the form of the chaos magic that tainted the core of every Sharr.
Still, what mattered more was that Harry had the talents, and he needed to develop them into a proper set of skills that would rank him among the most powerful wizards of the age.
Lord Voldemort was displeased.
He was also a homunculus the size of a baby, but that was a different matter.
He was hidden right now in Crouch Manor, having freed his loyal servant from the grasp of his father. The same loyal servant that had this morning gone to put the first stage of their plan in place, by replacing Alastor Moody as he went to Hogwarts.
Voldemort's displeasure stemmed from the fact that even after considerable wracking of his mind, he was unable to decide on what to do with Damien Peverell, who would soon be controlling the fate of several of his most loyal servants.
The Dark Lord had been most unpleasantly surprised when he read the Daily Prophet report about Azkaban returning to the control of the Peverell family. Not only did it put a wrench in his plans to eventually liberate his Death Eaters, it also meant that his days of controlling the dementors were now over.
Unless, of course, Damien Peverell could be made a Death Eater. But that was a near-impossible thing.
Families like the Yaxleys, Malfoys and Notts were one thing. They, while powerful, were all in awe of the House of Slytherin, and Voldemort's claim as heir of Slytherin, as well as being a Parselmouth, and had been enough to ensure that his raw power could work its magic.
Subduing a Peverell was a wholly different matter. Voldemort didn't doubt that he was more powerful than the young Lord. He was, after all, the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. No, the tricky part was to make the Dreadlord acknowledge it. From what Voldemort understood, he would die in battle, but would not submit to someone he saw as an equal, if not inferior.
The alliance that Peverell had with Potter wasn't something to be worried about all that much. Voldemort had broken alliances before. Nor, for that matter, was the fact that Potter was the reigning Lord Slytherin worth any particular consideration. After all, it wasn't as if a filthy little half-blood would be able to make use of the knowledge or the magic.
Voldemort would kill him soon enough, and retake his Lordship.
No, far more worrying was Peverell's control over Azkaban.
Attacking and taking a ministry-held prison was one thing, invading the stronghold of a family like Peverell, was completely different.
And that was without taking Erebus Sharr into account. Even where he was, Voldemort had managed to get at the whispers that echoed throughout the wizarding world, of the alliance between Sharr and Peverell.
And like most of the people, he feared the possibilities.
Voldemort suppressed a shudder as his mind was revisited by the knowledge he held of the Sharrs. The Nightmare Brigades that came to their enemies in the night, the demons of realms far away, ravaging and destroying all that lay before them, the fire and brimstone that rained from the heavens, they were all reasons why it was so that while the Eldritch Families were all to be feared and respected, no one ever argued with the Sharr.
There was, after all, a reason why, whenever the magicals saw any truly devastating storms, the first thought to come to the mind was always that the Sharrs were angry.
Still, there had to be a way ... Some method that the fools that called themselves Death Eaters had missed, some piece of information that would let Voldemort's magnificence surpass and overpower his rivals.
Hours passed, and August changed into September, as Voldemort plotted away.
Sorry, sorry. I know I'm late.
What can I say? I'd just finished the theory exams, when the practicals descended on my head.
But I'm all done now, and you can expect faster chapters.
As always, review/PM for anything.
Btw, would any of you mind being a beta? There are parts of this I struggle with, and some help would be much appreciated.
Ciao
blackshadow111