Harry Potter and the Power of the Past
Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.
Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?
A/N: Thanks for the reviews everybody. Oh, and review again!
S/N: Tonks is a Hufflepuff, as said by JKR. Sorry for the wait for this chapter, but I needed to get some planning for the last few chapters done.
S/N 2: Yes, the title has a double meaning: the Quidditch cup is starting and the story, too. Meh, I don't really like these three chapters (the last one, this one, and the next one) because Quidditch is so hard to write, and I'm trying to keep you entertained but it just comes out strained.
Chapter 18: And so it begins!
"There, there, sorry I'm late." An aged man with slicked back black hair and a long, pointed nose said. He wore a brown leather jacket that had a tail that ran to his knees. Devlin Whitehorn was the creator of the Nimbus brooms, and had designed everyone the company had ever released. "Now, Harry Potter, since I couldn't talk to you personally about your broom, I took the specifics from Bryson Jewkes' notes." He muttered, looking down at a piece of parchment that was in his hands.
"So you're making brooms for us, like Bryson was for team England?" Harry said, gleefully, having loved the Nimbus brooms; a Nimbus 2001 was his very first broom that he had bought for the Ravenclaw quidditch team that he played on in Hogwarts, starting with his second year.
Devlin nodded, smiling. Then, reaching behind him, he opened up the trunk and took out a brown broom. The broom had cursive golden lettering on it, labeling it the Nimbus 2020. He backed away from the trunk, gesturing for the team to take their own. Harry grabbed the one that said Potter, and hopped onto it, immediately levitating a few feet in the air. Harry took off on it with the rest, the wind rushing over him, the sun beaming onto his skin.
The Nimbus 2020 was fast, real fast. Being even faster than the Firebolt, Harry loved the feeling that it gave him: freedom and excitement. He zigzagged all around, testing out the limits of the broom, wanting and needing to see what it could do. The breaking charm was extraordinary, allowing the flier to stop on a dime, and preventing any recoil. Its overall design was comfortable, granting one to stay on a broom for long periods of time. As Harry landed, the coach calling them back in, he couldn't help but think the Nimbus 2020 was the best, most advanced broom he had ever ridden, and he couldn't wait to test it out in a match.
And it was a week later that found Harry laying stomach down on his bed, groaning lowly. The door to his bedroom opened up, and Nymphadora walked in wearing her Auror robes, having just come back from work. Seeing Harry, she cocked an eyebrow and rushed over to him, worriedly. "Aw, what's the matter, baby?" Tonks cooed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.
"Bludger nailed me." Harry muttered, flinching as Tonks ran a hand across his bare back. He turned his head and watched as Tonks took off her Auror robes, and threw on a pair of baggy gray muggle sweatpants and a black muggle tank top. She grabbed her wand and walked back over to him, gently sitting down on the bed. "Ow." He cried, as he tried to roll over.
"Stay where you are." Tonks ordered, using her hands to keep him on his stomach. "Zeali!" She called out to their house elf, waiting patiently for him to appear.
"You called Zeali, mistress Potter?" The elf said, apparating into the room with a pop. He bowed deeply for a second, his gaze on the floor before looking up, smiling happily.
"Yes," Tonks said politely, a childlike tone to her voice. "Can you please get me two glasses of sweet lemonade that Harry likes so much? Oh, and two glasses of chocolate milk!" She added the last part with a grin. The lemonade was for his fever, his body was extremely warm, and the second was to give him some energy, for he looked very lethargic.
"Zeali will do that, mistress Potter." Zeali nodded enthusiastically. Disappearing with a pop, the elf went to get what Tonks asked him to.
"What are you doing?" Harry croaked, cracking his neck to see his wife. There was a big bruise, black and blue as the night sky, on his back, just below his shoulder. It was round and about the size of a melon, looking like an eggplant.
"Shh." Tonks whispered, kissing him on the cheek. Grabbing her wand, she said, "Estuscera." Her wand glowed orange for a second, then turn back to its natural wood color, though it now had a glossy gleam to it. She placed it on his back, and began to roll it up and down as to massage it. "Contremisco." She recited, making her wand vibrate soothingly. "Feel good?" She grinned, continuing to massage his aching back.
"Mm." Harry moaned, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling. Tonks was the master of strange and almost useless charms, but a massaging charm was something he could get use to. Usually when she massaged him it was with her hands, but that wasn't for therapeutic reasons as this was. His eyes flicked up to her as he felt her wand leave his back; Zeali had apparated in with their drinks, and she was grabbing a glass of the lemonade.
"Here, take a sip, baby, you're burning up." She ordered, holding a straw up to his mouth. He guzzled down the cold, yellow liquid, needing some relief from the fever that he was running. "Zeali, do you think you could put a cooling charm around the room?" Tonks asked the elf, who nodded and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the room dropped a few degrees, becoming increasingly colder. "Thank you, Zeali." Tonks said, making the elf bow and apparate away, leaving the pair alone.
The next months passed relatively slowly. Harry turned twenty-two, threw a big birthday party at his house, and had a good time. Sirius and Emmeline had started to see each other exclusively, exciting everybody with the prospect of another wedding: one that would be just as big and extravagant as Harry's. They knew Sirius had wanted to find someone, someone to settle down with, and everyone was glad that he was happy, hoping that his Azkaban memories would slip from his mind: though they all knew that was pushing it. Even so, even with having spent so many years in Azkaban, the prison known as hell on Earth, Sirius showed the same carefree and mischievous nature he had as a teen, when James was still alive.
And Tonks and Harry had slipped into marriage perfectly, loving and living each second. In their minds, it wasn't all that different from dating, except they saw a lot more of each other; which wasn't a bad thing at all. Harry had took a leave of absence from his Hitwizard duties for the time being, though he did come in when they needed him to help out in catching a wizard named Donahue, who had cursed his muggle next door neighbor. Unfortunately, when the Hitwizards went to arrest him, he didn't want to go down without a fight, and tried taking them all out: he failed miserably, of course, being far outclassed by the five elite Hitwizards that had been there.
Before anyone knew it, the day came where Harry and the group would be traveling to Sweden via a portkey. Having ten tickets for each game he played in, Harry decided that Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Ted, Roger, Lisa, Cedric, Nymphadora, Hermione, and Viktor would receive them—Viktor would give his tickets, for when he was playing, to the same people, with Harry receiving the last one. There were others that deserved tickets in Harry's opinion, good friends that would have loved to go, but there were only so many that he had had. So it was the eleven of them, plus Mr. and Mrs. Krum, Viktor's parents, that made the trip to Sweden, intent on watching a few good games of Quidditch, hoping that their teams would win the whole cup.
Arriving in a meadow, the group of eleven looked around at their surroundings, noticing that other groups, witches and wizards, were appearing too. There was a flurry of different languages flowing through the air, ranging from English to Japanese, Portuguese to German. It was a hodgepodge of different nationalities, cultures, and ethnicities: a true union of the wizarding world. The wizards and witches were all smiling, an energy about them that was clearly excitement for the upcoming quidditch matches.
They headed over to their campsites; four of them, all marked with numbers, showing which plot was which. Harry, Cedric, Viktor, and Roger all took out their respective tents, flicking them open with a simple muttering of "Erecto". Harry and Nymphadora, and Ted and Andromeda would be staying in Harry's tent; Viktor and Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Krum would be staying in Viktor's; Roger and Lisa would fill up Roger's tent; and, finally, Cedric, Sirius, and Remus would stay in Cedric's, like it was their very own bachelor pad.
After a big, family meal, and a discussion about tomorrow's games—Wales was playing Japan, and Bulgaria was playing France—everyone shuffled back to their respective tents, intent on getting a good night's sleep. Harry dreamed about golden snitches and bludgers, as if his mind was going over a game plan. The next morning, while the others ate breakfast in Viktor's tent, Harry rested on the couch, closing his eyes in peacefulness. Then, suddenly, the fireplace off to the side sprung to life in green flames, and out stepped Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking tired.
"Hey Shack, what's up?" Harry said, opening his eyes, waving to his friend. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have enough tickets for Shacklebolt to come with them, but the man didn't mind, having seen Harry in the last World Cup, and knowing that he'd be able to watch the games in the pensieve after the tournament was all said and done.
"Barty Crouch is dead." Kingsley replied, grimly. His eyes flicked up to Harry's, who stared back at him, his brows furrowed. "His house elf found him dead in his bed yesterday morning."
"Naturally, right?" Harry questioned, wanting to know if he the Auror would have a case to handle over the matter. He knew Crouch was getting up in age, having been born in 1918, though that wasn't all that old in wizarding standards. His parents, Charis and Caspar Crouch, were born in 1900, and his mother Charis was Dorea Potter's, Harry's paternal grandmother, sister.
"So it would seem." Kingsley shrugged, either not knowing or caring. "He had been getting sicker and sicker ever since Sirius was found innocent. You remember the way he looked at your wedding, right? How he was pale and clammy?" He said, thinking back a few months ago to Harry's wedding day.
"I didn't think much of it, to be honest." Harry replied, looking away. Then, turning back, "With him the Crouch family is dead, right?" He questioned, wondering if the man had had any other family. The Crouchs were an old and noble pureblood family, on the same level of the Potters and the Longbottoms, being looked at as good and honest. He knew Barty had had two sisters, both a few years younger than him, but he didn't know what had happened to them: their fates weren't on the House of Black family tree. Either way, however, the male bloodline of the Crouchs' was dead.
"He only had one son, and as we both know, junior died in Azkaban fifteen years ago." Kingsley answered, remembering the day Crouch's son was found out a Death Eater. It had ruined the wizard's chances of becoming the next Minister of Magic. The man went from a shoe-in to an outcast overnight, a feat almost unheard of. "I got to go, though, Harry. I just wanted to let you know." He said, turning around to the fireplace and picking up some floo powder.
"See you, Shack." Harry said, watching as the man flooed out, presumably back to the office. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the couch, where he put his feet up and rested for his game that was five hours away.
A pale man, no older than forty, with straw-colored hair and brown eyes, wrapped his black cloak around him. It wouldn't do to be seen by someone, Merlin forbid a wizard who could identify him. He doubted many people remembered him, let alone actually knowing what he looked like after all these years, but one couldn't be too careful. He had been traveling for a day, and had just made it into continental Europe, where he was just days away from his destination: Albania. Continuing on, he disapparated a few miles away, knowing that in his weakened state he couldn't push himself. He would regain his power after the lingering effects of the Imperius curse left him, and it was a considerable power that he had, it was only a matter of time.
Later that day, the group went and watched Bulgaria beat France, Viktor having caught the snitch. After a brief lunch, they headed back over to the stadium, Harry's match starting soon. They were all decked out in Wales' apparel; even Hermione, who was vehemently rooting for Bulgaria, and in turn her husband to win, was wearing Welsh colors. No one, however, inside or outside of their group was showing Welsh pride more than Nymphadora, as the metamorphmagus was allowed a greater girth of opportunities due to her power.
Tonks' hair was a brilliant green color, spiked up at all ends. Down the center of it was a white strip of hair, akin to a skunk. Her eyes were a bright red, showing off the final color of the Welsh uniforms: green, red, and white. To top off the look, she wore a replica of Harry's jersey, and had his number painted in green on both of her cheeks. "Let's go Harry!" She screamed, the second she was in the stadium. The others smiled, making their way to their seats, their eyes roaming about the various wizards and witches from around the world. A few minutes later, the group was settled into their seats, waiting for the match to start.
"Is Japan any good?" Cedric questioned, sitting directly behind Tonks. Hermione, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius were sitting in the row below, with an empty seat for Viktor right next to Hermione. Then above them was Cedric, Roger, Lisa, Andromeda, and Ted.
"Viktor said their beaters were quite strong, but other than that, no." Hermione answered, turning around to see Cedric. They whispered to each other inaudibly, continuing the conversation.
"Over here!" Tonks called out to the snack witch who was walking around the stadium. The witch waddled over towards them, her lips pursed. The tray had a plethora of items, ranging from Fizzing Whizbees to Acid pops. "I'll take a bottle of pumpkin juice, five chocolate frogs, and a box of Bertie Bott's, please." Tonks said, smiling at the witch sweetly.
The witch dug through the tray, grabbing the food items that Tonks had asked for and handing them to the young metamorphmagus. Then, reaching into a small bag that was hooked up to her belt, the snack witch pulled out a glass bottle of pumpkin juice; it's bottle chilled with frost. "That will be fifteen sickles, and three knuts, please." She said, professionally.
Tonks shuffled through her pockets, handing the witch a gold galleon after a few seconds of looking. "Keep the change." She said, as the snack witch beamed, and said thank you. The others got various items, too, and after a few minutes, they were all eating their treats. "Does anyone want a chocolate frog?" Tonks asked, gazing around. When everyone shook their heads, she shrugged, tearing open one of the boxes. She checked out the card, and frowned when it was an Albus Dumbledore; she had a million of them. She took a bite out of the frog, breaking the charm that made it life-like before it jumped out of her hands.
"Shouldn't be long now, right?" Remus murmured, looking down at his timepiece. The match was supposed to start around this time, but sometimes they ran a little late, due to injuries and, sometimes, deaths during the last matches.
"Shouldn't be." Roger replied, looking across the stands to where the Japan fans were screaming out spells, and shooting up sparks of red and white, their colors.
Tonks popped open another chocolate frog box, pulling out the card that laid inside. "Ah, Helga Hufflepuff." Tonks grinned, turning around and showing Cedric. "Hufflepuff!" She yelled out, slapping hands with Cedric, who grinned with pride.
"You were in Hufflepuff?" Sirius questioned, stuffing his mouth with jellybeans. He had thought she was a Gryffindor, never a Hufflepuff.
"Darn-tooten." She replied, stealing one of Sirius' jellybeans. She popped it in her mouth, smiling brightly to him. "Lemon, gross." She gagged, but swallowed the bean regardless. The witch watched as Sirius opened a chocolate frog box, and looked at the card, handing it to her a few seconds later. Tonks giggled, nudging Hermione and showing the card. "Viktor Krum card."
She looked down at it, a small smile gracing her features. She ran a hand over the picture, tenderly. "What did you get?" Hermione asked, taking a bite out of her licorice wand and noticing Tonks opening up another of her chocolate frogs.
"Harry Potter." Tonks replied, watching as Harry stared up at her from within the card. He gave her a wink, then turned and flew off on his broom. Her eyes flicked to the text below the picture, reading what it had to say.
Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, is the only known survivor of the killing curse when he did it as a baby. Now, as an adult, he plays Quidditch for the Welsh team, as well as working as a Hitwizard. Potter likes lemonade, chocolate, and melting cake.
"I didn't miss anything, did I?" Viktor inquired, as he slid into the seat next to Hermione; his face was red, and his hair wet, clearly having just gotten out of the shower. Hermione shook her head, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. Then, with a flash of green, a Common Welsh Green dragon, made completely of green flame, flew around the stadium. It did two circuits of the stadium, before it let out a stream of red flames from its nostrils, which bursted out, and the Welsh team appeared from the embers. Then, with another great flash, the dragon blew apart, disintegrating into a hailstorm of shooting stars that zigzagged all about, creating a light show of green, red, and white streaks, before losing power and disappearing.
"The Welsh team, led by their captain, Gwenog Jones!" roared the announcer, as half the stadium erupted into applause: Tonks being the loudest of them all. "And now," The announcer called out, quieting the fans. "The Japanese team!" There were rumbles of thunder, then, in seven flashes of red lightning, the Japanese team appeared, streaking across the stadium with trails of red from behind their brooms. On the Japanese side, a wave emanated from one section, then continued down the line, a sign appearing as it moved. It said 'Go Japan' in Japanese, and it abruptly stopped as it neared the Welsh side of the stadium.
"And now for the introductions for the Welsh team: for our beaters there is Gwenog Jones!" A woman flew high up into the air, and waved, holding a beater bat in her hands. "And Demelza Robins!" Another woman shot up into the air, flipping her beater bat and catching it mid-air. "And the chasers: Dafydd 'Taffy' Timms, Dillon Whisp, and Aderyn Clagg!" The three chasers flew into the air, barrel rolling before stopping next to the beaters. "Owen Keitch is their keeper!" A man flew into the air, and then spun, stopping inches in front of Aderyn's face. "And finally we have their seeker, Harry Potter!" Harry, unlike the others, came from above, swooped down to the ground, and shot back up, flipping as he stopped next to Gwenog. The crowd erupted in applause, showing their support for Wales.
"And they're off!" The announcer screamed out, having introduced the Japanese team and the referee for the match. Everyone watched as the Japanese chasers threw the quaffle between each other, flying down the field, before they chucked it into one of the hoops, scoring the first goal. Meanwhile, Harry and the Japanese seeker hovered high above the field, looking down and searching for the ever-elusive snitch.
Demelza Robins hit one of the bludgers at a Japanese chaser, which forced the wizard to crash into one of his beaters, knocking them both to the ground. As they fell, Aderyn scored with the quaffle, tying the match back up. From the bleachers, Viktor tapped Tonks on the shoulder, pointing to the golden blur that was streaking across the opposite side of the quidditch pitch, and then looked up to Harry, to see if he had seen it too.
Sure enough, Harry had dived down, leaning over his broom and flying his fastest, trying to catch up with the golden snitch. The Japanese seeker took off after him, barely keeping up. As Harry neared the snitch, a bludger came out of nowhere, coming within a foot of his face, making him flip over, so his back was parallel to the ground. This sudden loss of speed gave the Japanese Seeker time to catch up, coming soaring up to Harry, evening up the race to the snitch.
Soon they were just a few feet away, the snitch zigzagging all over, each every way. The Japanese seeker threw his shoulder into Harry, hoping to draw Harry off of his broom, giving him no competition in going after the snitch; Harry was able to keep his balance, and even return the shoulder. Seeing there was no point in trying to stop the other seeker, as both shoulder bumps failed, both leaned over their brooms and flew faster. The wind rushed over them as they sped, their eyes tearing up, turning bloodshot. There was a hush about the stadium as they raced, all eyes on them, the spectators knowing this was it.
They were both so close, close enough to almost reach it, then Harry, throwing all caution to the wind, threw himself off of his broom, diving for the snitch. The snitch, as if it was in slow motion, flew to the side, but Harry's hand was much too quick. Like a snake wrapping its body around prey, Harry's fingers enclosed the golden, bird-like instrument, entrapping it within the hand-made cage. He landed on the ground, hard, his legs flipping over his head, as his body somersaulted to a halt. Dazed, yet smiling, Harry threw his hand up, releasing the snitch, showing the stadium he had caught it.
Immediately, those who were rooting for Wales erupted, screaming out in excitement. Tonks was on her feet, clapping and yelling, a big, wide smile on her face, proud of her husband. The rest of the group was smiling, too, watching the replay of Harry catching the snitch on the giant white wall that hovered in midair across the way. As the cheering stopped, and a hush had overtaken the stadium, the Welsh team's next opponent flashed on the screen: Bulgaria.
Viktor laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Vell, this should be fun." He said, more to himself than to the others. It had been awhile, almost eight years, since the pair had played each other, and Viktor couldn't wait to get on his broom against his good friend. Since Harry was as good of a flier as he was, the man knew he would enjoy the match…he would enjoy it indeed.
AN: From now on whenever I use a spell of my own creation, I'm going to tell you the etymology—I usually use Latin, German, French, and English for them. But like I said before, I don't really like creating my own spells, but I will if the situation calls for it.
Estuscera: creates a hot substance. Estus is Latin for heat, and Cera is Latin for wax.
Contremisco: shakes or trembles objects. Contremisco is Latin for tremble.