Chapter 3
First off, I know, I'm slightly "late" when it comes to this chapter. I could bore you with the details, but let's just say I'm on a new OS, and I've got the files backed up and saved every five minutes they're opened.
That being said, I'll say this, too. I'm not really happy with this chapter. But who can blame me? This is version 3 or 4- and the only version that actually has a digital existence. Anyway, if the ending and parts of it seem rushed or...disjointed, it's not your imagination. As for an eta for chapter 4, hmm, I'll say that it'll be up before December. ...I hope.
Anyway, let's get this party started!
Harry Potter-Adkins, Southern Bred Hospitality
by: Trey Miller
Chapter 3
"So were you being serious yesterday when you said you needed a White Knight, sir?" asked Harry.
Harry, his brother Jason, their mother, and Albus Dumbledore sat in the food court at the mall eating a late lunch. Albus had toned down his attire (much to the relief of Harry's mother), now simply wearing a gray suit that had tiny white stars dotting it. His beard and long hair were still braided; however, with the more 'normal' suit, it actually looked good.
Said elder wizard nodded, "I am not proud, in any far stretch of the imagination, of the degrading social structure at Hogwarts. You see, there has been so much bigotry in the past seventy years that the incredibly high level of education that Hogwarts once had has been severely hampered. Mainly due to the conflict between the self-proclaimed blood purists, the muggleborns and so-called blood-traitors. It doesn't help that the vast majority of the blood purists are in Slytherin house."
"Slytherin? What's that?" asked Jason.
"Ah, right, I'd almost forgotten to explain how Hogwarts is set up." Albus sat back and sipped his drink. "To do that, I must explain the current situation we find ourselves in. To explain the current situation, I must explain the past in some detail. A bit more than a thousand years ago, Europe was in the process of building empires and unifying people, the Catholic Church ruled Europe, and magic was considered by most to be little more than demonic summoning or paganistic arts. Wizards had been around for eons before, but schooling practices had not developed in any actual form in England. But I digress.
"From three older countries came three mages, powerful magicians who brought their unique talents and skills. From the north, we believe Russia, came a cunning and strong man. From Egypt came a strong priestess who carried much knowledge of ancient magic and history. From India came another powerful woman. She brought knowledge of plants and animals, not to mention a strong sense of loyalty to family. These three met their fourth ally, one who had studied the magics that the Celtic, the Spanish, and the other west European nations used. To hide their true identity, they took on names that resembled their individual familiars. The Russian, Salazar Slytherin, took his name from his familiar, the snake. The Indian, Helga Hufflepuff, took hers from the badger (even though it may not appear so). The Egyptian, Rowena Ravenclaw, took hers from the Raven. And lastly, the Celt, Godric Gryffindor, took his from the Gryphon."
"Now, here's where the story returns to the near present," said Albus. "When the great fortress-school Hogwarts was founded, Slytherin wanted to prevent muggleborns from entering the school without a large amount of protection. Gryffindor, on the other hand, was a fighter, and said 'bring the muggleborns, and bring the magic-hating armies!' He would personally go out and fight those who threatened the students and their parents. Here is where what really occurred and what people want to believe occur split. History was written that Godric and Salazar had a great fight and Salazar left. What really occurred was that Salazar and Godric found a point to agree on: everyone should learn magic that wanted to. From there, they fought tooth and nail to make it possible.
"They succeeded, and Salazar would have stayed, had it not been for an unfortunate timed letter that his daughter was injured. He left for his homeland and saved his daughter, sending her back to Hogwarts to be tutored and raised by the other founders. Unfortunately, he was killed by the people who had injured his daughter. In this day and age, the blood purists forget that Salazar's fault with how things were done is the only reason the British wizarding community still stands."
The three Adkins sat for a moment in silence, each thinking on what had been said. Jason finally spoke up. "So, Cliff Notes version is this: Powerful dudes in the past notice a problem and fix it. Idiot bigots nowadays ignore the solution and the logic and focus only on some aspect of the problem. Right so far?" Albus nodded. "So what you want to do is have my little brother, Harry, go to Hogwarts, face these bigots without me being around, and, how can I say this, enlighten them on how things are done over here?"
Albus nodded again.
Jason looked over at Harry and scowled, "Man, you're so freakin' lucky! Mom, why does Harry get to have all the fun?"
Jessica patted his hand in mock sympathy, "Because you're too old, dear."
"Kids nowadays don't know how lucky they are."
"Tell me about it," she deadpanned.
Harry sat there quietly, contemplating what he was being told. Truth be told, he was of half a mind to call Scott up in Atlanta and get him to quietly ship him that shotgun-sword foci. So how was he going to handle these bigots?
Wait a cotton-pickin' minute...
The bigots noticed power, be it magical power, social power, or wealth. That's how it was in the schools he and Jason attended, that's how it would be over there. Since he wasn't quite sure where he stood in any of those classes, there were two immediate things to do.
Number one: Ask Mr.- err, Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Excuse me, sir." started Harry, his face already morphing into the 'I've got a big scheme, and someone ain't gonna like the results' look, "Out of curiosity, if I wanted to rate myself in wealth, social status, and magical power, about where would I place myself on the list of this years students?"
Albus hummed for a moment, his eyes twinkling mad as he contemplated the question, "Well, without looking at the actual numbers, I would say that you are among the most socially famous, due to surviving the killing curse. Not only that, but the Potter name is one of the more recognized names in the British Wizarding World. Wealth, I would say that you are in the top five- higher than the Malfoy name, lower than the Black or Flamel names. As for magical power, you've been doing intermediate to advanced wandless and wordless magic for several years. To put it in reference, I'm considered the most powerful British wizard, and the first time I did more than accidental wandless magic was when I was thirteen. Do I need to say more?"
Harry grinned, "Well then, if I were to want to appear to have came from a well-to-do American family, I must appear to have much more refined taste in clothing. Not the absolute best, but high quality, name-famous clothes. You know, Nike, Reebok, Calvin Klein, things like that. It's got to be all really cool and in American clothes."
"So what image are you going for?" asked Jason.
Harry's eyes glittered with joy behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "That should be obvious, bro. I'm going for the classic 'Good boy who is too good for the social stigmas.'"
"So 'Rebel pride' all the way?" asked his mother.
"'Bad boy dressing like a good boy,' I'd say." said Jason.
He nodded, rubbing his hands together in expectation. Albus' smile grew wider and his twinkling eyes were almost doubling as strobe lights. This was going to work out even better than he had planned. Granted, the plan was to see if he would come to Hogwarts, and make it up after that. But hey, it worked.
Three hours later, Harry had all the mundane and wizarding clothes he would need for his year at Hogwarts. Nothing, and it was stressed, nothing was below name-famous. After a quick spin through Books'a'Million (they actually did sell the books he would need for school, not to mention Hogwarts a History and the likes), where the cost of all his books was over twice that which he spent on clothing, the quartet made their way back to the Adkins' domicile. With prodding from Jessica, Albus promised to return later for supper with them.
Harry and Jason spent what was left of the afternoon packing the "very radical" (Jason's words) trunk with all of Harry's clothes and miscellaneous items, before the brothers collapsed around his room, listening to one of the local country music radio stations, as they browsed through Harry's school books.
"Hey, Harry, they've actually got a wand spell that unlocks locks," said Jason. "It's Alohomora."
Harry looked up from his copy of Hogwarts a History, "Jase, I've been unlocking and locking things without any problem for a while. Watch." Harry stuck his hand out pointing at his closed door and rubbed his fingers together, almost snapping them, but not quite. The door clicked shut, locked, and seemed to partially meld with the door frame.
Jason glanced at the door over the book and then at Harry. "Methinks them rings give it a bit more power."
"Obviously," Harry did the hand maneuver again, this time with the other hand and the door unlocked and unsealed. He looked down at the matte black rings on his hand and whistled softly, "Color me impressed."
"Color me, not so impressed," said Jason with a chuckle. At Harry's annoyed look, Jason elaborated, "You're an Adkins, bro. We do things outside of the ordinary. Look at dad; he's a mechanic with a degree in horticulture. Mom deals in real estate and moonlights as a self defense teacher. I've got more reprimands from school about my fights on record than anyone else, and yet I could coast through college on that college fund people like adding to."
Harry nodded and waved his hands to placate his brother, "Okay, okay. Point taken. It's still kinda impressive."
Jason nodded. "Yeah. Now let me see if there are any spells you can do on your glasses to make them a bit better." He paused for a moment and continued, "And this time, I'm talking about actual spells."
The brothers spent the rest of the afternoon going through the books, studying and occasionally laughing at one of Harry's spells.
August 15 rolled around and Harry, along with his father walked through Gatwick Airport, his satchel slung across his back. In it was everything from America he would need, as well as his fathers belongings while his father was in England until the beginning of September. Both Andy and Harry were extremely happy about not having to tote around large suitcases.
As soon as they were able to vacate Gatwick, they hopped on a bus bound for central London, and following the directions given by Albus (who received them from a muggleborn in London), they made their way to the street on which the Leaky Cauldron's location was reputed to be.
Andrew looked at the directions and then at the portion of the city block where it should be. He frowned down at his son in confusion and said, "Unless I'm reading this thing wrong, it should be right around-"
"-There," said Harry, pointing at a place between a record store and the brick corner building that opened up onto the intersecting street.
Andrew focused his eyes where Harry was pointing to and sighed as the pub came into focus. He sighed. "Another thing about magic that I'm amazed by."
"I know the feeling."
Andrew nodded absently, muttering as he walked beside his son, "I said amazed, not amused." Harry laughed.
Having been forewarned by Albus of his apparent fame and told that the wizarding community were looking for Harry Potter, a boy with a British accent (and scar), Harry merely tugged the LA Lakers ball cap down a little over his forehead and tagged along behind his father as they entered. He was ready for his first performance as the Fonz of the British wizarding world.
Andrew walked up to the bar and waved the bartender over. A portly man in a tunic with a towel over one shoulder walked over and smiled. "Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, I'm Tom, the owner. What can I get for you?"
"We need a room with two beds for my son and I until September first."
Tom nodded, "First year at Hogwarts?"
Andrew nodded with a smile. "Yeah, he got his letter and everything. First wizard in the family for a few generations."
"I see. And from your accents I take it you're from the states?"
Harry shifted his bag and nudged his father not-so-subtly. "You sure we can't stay at one of our regulars? I mean, this place is homey and nice, I'll give you that."
Andrew didn't bat an eye at the change in his sons personality. "You're going to have to get used to living a little bit more rustic than you're used to, son."
Harry and his father stared at each other for a moment quietly before Harry shrugged. "Eh, so long as the food is good and I can go wander around soon, it'll work for me."
Tom had been watching the fifteen second verbal sparring match, wondering how to interject. This gave him the necessary place to. "Ah, no worries, lad. It may not seem like much, but this here is one of the best places to stay around here. My brother, the cook, can fix almost anything you want, though he doesn't get to stretch his talent around here."
"What about Diagon Alley?"
Tom nodded, "Access is granted to those who aren't in the know, which is practically only first time visitors, and from then on, you can come and go as you please. Though the doors to the alley are closed at eleven o'clock."
Harry shook his head. "Curfew. I love this place already," he said. The sarcasm was evident to all.
"For all we know, there might be some reason for it, son."
Harry shrugged, "Eh, whatever. I don't plan on being out that late anyway." He walked off, letting his father finish up business.
"For once, I'm glad he didn't pick up his brothers quirks," muttered Andy, eliciting a chuckle from Tom.
"Aye, kids today have a rather interesting outlook on rules."
Andy nodded, mentally making a note to never show Harry or Jason reruns of Happy Days.
While Tom and his father were ironing out the details, Harry meandered over to one of the patrons who had an open copy of the Daily Prophet laying out. He glanced at the front page and chuckled.
The patron, a youngish man who looked like he'd been through hell itself, looked up and blinked at the emerald eyes that flickered his direction. His eyes then went to the Lakers hat above the eyes, and then at the attire the boy was wearing. He blinked. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Harry's eyes went from the newspaper back to the mans face and he smiled. "Nope, I'm from the good ole U.S. of God blessed A." (He pronounced it "Gahd-bles'sd") He pointed to the paper. "So what's with this Harry Potter dude that they're hyping?"
"Oh, Harry? Well, long story short, people say he survived the killing curse as a baby, which is supposed to be impossible at any age, mind. And in doing so, he some how managed to vanquish the dark wizard people call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named out of fear," said the patron.
Harry stared at him with a 'you must be kidding' look on his face. He opened his mouth and closed it and then sighed, "Well, he couldn't be all that tough. There hasn't been any dark wizards in the news in almost fifty years now, give or take."
By now, the room was almost dead quiet, everyone listening to the conversation. The man shrugged, "What might be easy on one level may be tougher than granite on another. There was no wizard or witch who was strong enough to fight that monster on their own."
"Yet not a one of them actually thought about mobbing him? Sure there would have been a few who died, but I'm pretty sure he would have gone down under the sheer magical onslaught of a hundred or so," said Harry.
"Nope, it was tried with a group of thirty and he knocked them all flying."
"How about a few people armed with 50 caliber sniper rifles?"
The man paused in thought and frowned, "Actually, no. No one thought of using any weapon of that sort against him."
Harry had, by now, taken a seat across from the man. He laughed, "Oh, right, so everyone things this kid somehow miraculously survives something you say is unsurvivable, manages to off this guy, and save the day. All in his diaper?!" He snorted. "At least tell me the guy was called the Dark Sorcerer E. Vile, or something of that sort."
"He called himself Lord Voldemort." Gasps and screams of terror filled the room, and Harry looked around in disdain.
"Fools." Harry froze for a second as an idea came to mind and he smiled slowly and mischievously. The man across from him groaned softly and muttered something like "Not the Potter Mischief Grin"
Harry looked around and took a deep breath before screaming out, "Voldemort!" People jerked and screamed again. "Voldemort! VOLDEMORT!"
The room was dead quiet and the only ones who he was still able to see was his father, and the man across from him. Harry shrugged, "Guess it only works with Beetlejuice."
Everyone began to slowly rise back to where they had been seated when the fireplace to their left roared to life with green flames.
On that day, ten people managed to burst through the anti-apparation ward around the Leaky Cauldron. Ten people reported to St. Mungo's with splinching injuries.
From the flames stepped a tall man who looked around, shrugged, and walked toward the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Harry chuckled at the now empty room. "Fools, all of them." He glanced at the other man and slapped the side of his head, "Oh, sorry about that, I never got around to introducing myself."
The man waved it away, "No worries, I'm Remus Lupin. I knew your birth parents, James and Lilly well, Harry."