AN: Yay! I guess I am on the roll these days. Or bored. It can happen when you get sick in the middle of the summer. So here goes another chapter. Soon our heroes will meet! But not yet. He-he.
celestialuna, wow! That's a lot of reviews! Thank you, thank you thank you. And this chapter is even more interesting. Or not. Whad'ya think?
wolfawaken, you are triply blessed!
Chapter 6
The usual cheerful Christmas atmosphere was absent from the Hogwarts castle. On the 22nd of December 1996, Harry Potter was declared dead. The already senile Dumbledore became even barmier refusing to believe the declaration, muttering something about impossibility and prophecies. But the fact was that all the tests and rituals announced that Harry Potter was no longer among the living. The vaults and other assets of the young wizard in Gringotts were mysteriously transferred to another account. The goblins refused to answer any inquiries as to the identity of the heir.
The last ones to see Harry Potter were the Dursleys. They said that he ran away from home to never return. Many wondered if You-Know-Who finally got to their savior…
Draco Malfoy sneered at the picture of the Potter Monument in the Daily Prophet. The Ministry as usual went overboard with it. Golden (no doubt there), massive (come on, he was a midget!) statue with impressive binoculars (oops, were that glasses?) and outstanding lightning bolt on the forehead; the hair of the statue looked as if poor Potter was electrified – modern style. The Ice Prince knew that if he laughed at that very moment, Gryffindors would crucify him. So he calmly stood up, rolled the paper and left the hall. As soon as he got into the empty classroom he laughed. And laughed again, his laughter bordering on hysteria.
He wasn't fond of the Boy-Who-Lived, but even in his life he was a constant figure – always there to save the day, to rant about and to fight with. Life certainly will be duller without him.
Draco gradually calmed down. The Boy-Who-Lived DEAD! That just didn't sound right. How? The teen knew it had nothing to do with Voldemort, who according to the latest reports of his spies still didn't know whether to be happy or enraged. He finally settled on being suspicious and disbelieving.
Personally, Draco couldn't believe it either. Potter's disappearance was just too mysterious. But the readings are always accurate.
Draco sighed. His mate search was also going nowhere. He found a seventh year Gryffindor girl Katie Bell who had strong red aura with chocolate/coffee aroma. A talented Chaser, decent student, single and beautiful: sandy blonde hair, expressive features, soft hazel eyes – it seemed ideal, too ideal. Mudblood. No, more precisely a child of a half-blood and a muggle. And a bit too Gryffindor for his taste. He was unsure if he should discard that fact and go for it, or search for a nicer candidate. Draco already had plans to make a brief visit to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as a Hogwarts Board Governor, a position inherited from his father. Inventing an excuse won't be a problem.
He felt different… Not as dedicated to studying but also not as lazy as he was before. The past impulsive behaviour was lost to Control. He could choose to be childish, but the emotions will never rule him again. Was that good? Was that bad? There was little white and black in his world now. It was filled with colours.
He tested the sound of his new name.
"Flhoyer." Strangely that didn't sound foreign. The young man smiled and opened his eyes. He was lying in the niche where it all started. It was a chilly night. What date was it now? He lazily whispered "Tempus" and let his magic flow into the established spell pattern.
March 4th, 1997, 02:35:45 AM
He could have sworn that it was longer. Or maybe it was. If he remembered correctly the underground complex was shifted to an artificial dimension, so the time flow could differ there.
The trunk from his previous life was lying beside him, as well as the decayed remains of the unfortunate owl. He felt a stab of pity. Sam, was it? He would have to apologize to Remus.
On the trunk lay a grimoire not his own. Flhoyer curiously extended his hand to it. As soon as he touched it, a small block of information uncovered in his mind. It was his Master's grimoire - a parting gift for remembrance.
All his life Sohhare was a knowledge seeker and then, seeing the old ways dying ad giving way to mediocrity, searched for the way to preserve them. The talented mage created a place of wisdom, and stored all the books he had collected through his life and the ones donated to his cause. The wizened man spent another quarter of his life inventing a spell to draw people with rare abilities to his sanctuary. It had to be flexible, working long range and all the time adapting to the surroundings. At the beginning it was just a cave, now it was a niche in the middle of London.
The creator killed himself in a ritual and left a larger part of his soul in real world to guard his chambers and guide future apprentices. In return for this favour the other part of his soul crossed the border to the Underworld and was probably burning in eternal agony. Flhoyer's respect for Master Sohhare's courage and dedication was immense. He wasn't sure if he could do the same in his place.
How many mages had the knowledge chambers shaped, he wondered. Master kept that secret to himself.
Well, it was time to leave. Flhoyer needed time and place to come to turns with his new identity and powers. Did he even have to kill Voldemort? Harry Potter was truly and officially dead. Was it the prophesy fulfilled? In a way Voldemort was the main motive behind his running away.
Ah, here they were… apparation coordinates. Hm-m… He still had a lot to learn. Apparation obviously was developed after his Master forged the chambers.
Still, he had other means of transport. He concentrated on the words Janice Bridge Hall, left of the river, Highland, Scotland and shifted.
It was not clear who was more surprised - ex-Harry Potter or a Death Eater that was lazily lounging on the hall's yellow sofa.
The man dropped his fourth firewhisky glass and gaped. Flhoyer gaped but quickly stunned the man with a surge of magic. To the outsiders it looked as if the Deatheater fainted from shock.
The mage didn't even have to remove the mask - it was lying about on the floor. So he remained standing and gazed thoughtfully at the unfamiliar face. He might or might not be wrong, but it looked like an elaborate trap. What's up with Remus?
"Moony!!"
Was there a moan coming from downstairs?
Flhoyer cautiously came down the shaky ladder in the kitchen and stepped on the floor of the basement. Did he smell excrements? He did. He even didn't want to light the place. He sighed resigned and spelled a ball of light.
Ah, here he was. Remus Lupin, an educated werewolf, degraded to a filthy prisoner and screwing his eyes shut to defend them from light. That was plainly disgusting. He apologized to his magic for using it for such a menial task - it was easier to do than to clean manually – and spelled the room clean and downed Moony in a cascade of water. While it was not the most thorough cleaning for a person, it sure as hell was refreshing.
"Moony?"
The wet man shook himself off the water and squinted at his rescuer. Or another torturer? Who knew? Pettigrew did visit him from time to time, so many were aware of his nickname.
However, he didn't recognize this one.
"Who are you?"
The youngster seemed startled, but then smiled, and what a smile that was! Shy, encouraging, and sympathetic at the same time.
"I apologize, I am called Flhoyer, previously known as Harry Potter."
Remus felt unsure. Was it another Deatheater hoax? Last he heard his captors gloated about the death of his adopted godson and raved about the useless job of watching the house. But it was not up to them to defy their Lord's orders.
"Harry? Is it really you?" he croaked.
The young man shrugged, "I guess I can keep the first name. Now come on, let's get you clean and full with food."
Harry helped him to stand up and with a glance opened the silver cuff on his leg. Impossible! He must be delirious. With some assistance the man bridged the obstacle of stairs.
"Where is the bath, Moony?"
"Second floor, first door to the left."
Harry stopped and examined him then nudged a glass of water into his hands. Where did that come from? Werewolf cautiously sipped the water and in the next moment he was hungrily gulping it down. It was s-so fresh. And apparently unending for such a small vessel. Harry had to stop him from drinking himself into stupor.
"Enough. You wouldn't want to retch. Now, bath."
Flhoyer had the dubious pleasure of washing a grown male. Well, Moony hadn't got enough strength to do it himself, so here he was, playing the role of a nurse. His honorary godfather was babbling in uncharacteristic fashion and apologizing all the time. Flhoyer got tired of accepting apologies third time around and simply regarded them as an expletive. Some people curse five times in a three word sentence, some apologize.
It appeared that Moony early on his mission was hit with Imperious and didn't notice the change. The castor, instead of placing crude orders, masterfully manipulated the victim's perceptions. So all the information in the letter was true and came from Moony, except that there was no Fidelius and the werewolf himself was immediately apprehended after sending the letter.
When Remus realized what was happening he fought off Imperious in a few days, and after a failed escape attempt was incarcerated in his own basement.
"Moony, were you attached to Sam?"
"Who?"
"The owl that you sent to me."
"Oh. Well, he was a nice bird, a bit on the feral side, but nice. Did something happen to him?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "He is dead."
"Oh. How?"
"I am not sure, I suppose it was death from lack of food and water. It was accidentally locked in a room."
Remus processed the information and decided not to question further.
"You do know that you are declared dead, right?"
"Really?" Flhoyer's eyes shone with amusement. "So, it's already a public knowledge. Great. I don't think I'll resurrect him."
"But you are Harry, you aren't dead!"
"I can be Harry, Ry, John, Whatever, but not Harry James Potter. Legally and magically I am a different person now. I was stripped of my previous name and called Flhoyer. You can help me to choose a first name."
"You are changed. Why?"
"Later Moony, your dinner awaits."