Summary: Dumbledore crosses the line, friends aren't really friends and Harry's just found (and accidentally set free) a bunch of super powerful cards, can anyone say oops. CCS/HP EH/HP Slash.
(^ - Have borrowed directly or partially from Pan06)
(* - Have borrowed directly or partially from Shadow Crystal Mage)
And so, 24 hours later, it was with a relieved sigh from many in the house that all the drama the CHANGE had induced was over and done with, Harry had been slightly worried about the processes of avoiding magical decapitation and how close to Eriol, as himself, that he had to get to set everything right again; but like the day before, he didn't really need to stress about the whole disaster.
Eriol, as himself, had theorised, that with him acting as a magical conduit between Harry and the staff, the staff would still work because it was Harry's magic, but with Eriol himself controlling the flow of the magic preventing said explosions; after all, the only people with any say in how the staff worked would be Harry, or the creator of the staff in the first place, Clow Reed, and as Clow wasn't really an option, it had to be Harry – though he had a strange close-eyed smile on Harry's face when he said that – nope, not creepy at all.
The unforeseen circumstances of this weren't bad per see; in fact, they were actually quiet useful, they just hurt a hell of a lot.
As Harry brought his magic up to the surface to be used, Eriol channelled it through Harry's body before releasing the small amount needed for the staff to do its work, however, the large amount of magic that had not been used, stayed with Harry's body and having no purpose despite being summoned, proceeded to tear its way through all of the magical blocks around his core – Unfortunately, Eriol was the one still in Harry's body and even now, and hour later with everything right again, Harry was still really upset that he'd gone through that pain and was still apologising for it.
And as only Eriol does, he smiled and told the emerald-eyed boy "It's perfectly alright, it's why I, in your body was the conduit in the first place, that amount of magic without any purpose would have simply torn anyone else to pieces, I simply directed the magic to the blocks and let it do its work instinctively, it was much easier and much less painful than you having to go through several very long and very painful rituals to achieve the same affect." Leaving everyone gaping at the blue-haired young man that was back in his own body.
He'd gone on to explain that it was a rather different form of Extreme Magical Overload, an explosion of magical energy that attempts to leave the body in as little time possible as to lessen the strain said energy was putting on the body.
"I have read that Extreme Magical Overload (when it doesn't kill you, as it is more often to do than not) changes one appearance rather drastically – depending on the level of power forced through one's magical channels. And the timeframe in which it was forced. Meaning, a lot of power + around about one second = well, death for most people, but it looks like you're special, Harry-chan."
Now that had started a fantastic argument.
As for said changes in appearance; he wasn't sure if he liked these changes, sure, not needing his glasses any more was awesome, so he was as pale as a vampire, he could deal with that; the hair was another matter entirely.
It was white.
And long.
Really, really, really long.
Any attempt at cutting said hair failed – in fact it just grew back longer.
He was not Rapunzel dammit! This was ridiculous; it was down to his god-damned ankles!
And he was still short, the least that stupid explosion could do was make a little taller! But no, 156cms was obviously going to be the extent of his growth; put everything together and you may as well just put him in a dress a start calling him Harriet.
And he said so.
Eriol seemed to think this was amusing and got a similar mischievous look that Fred and George did when planning an awesome prank.
Harry paled drastically, 'Oh hell no! A prankster in the guise of a gentleman – the world will end!'
So, the entire mess of the CHANGE incident was solved, the issue of control exercises for the cardcaptor addressed and Harry himself was sleeping off the residual pains of having magic forcibly rip its way through his body – turns out, it was just another normal day in the life of Harry Potter.
That is to say, not.
Rita was going to love this chaos.
Where was he?
And what was he doing there?
All Harry could see was black – black emptiness that stretched on for miles.
Or it could have ended a few steps in front of him, he didn't know.
All there was; was black.
'Okay, what was that?' he thought, waking from the strange dream, he didn't like this – not after last year's tragedy. The thought that Voldemort could be back in his dreams, influencing his mind, just like he did at the end of last year's term – he wasn't afraid to say it frightened him, he didn't have much more he could lose; but if he were to lose them – he shuddered – he couldn't bear thinking about it.
If it wasn't for the fact that the blackness didn't feel malicious, he'd probably be a nut-case at the moment – that didn't mean he was going to randomly trust this phenom, no, that would be very stupid.
He started as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror and then huffed; there was of course that disaster to deal with as well, he looked like a girl; or one of those delicate porcelain dolls, which was worse, much worse.
So, he was now in a rotten mood.
It didn't stay that way for long however, in fact, it ended just as he was leaving his room for the day; it was Saturday, he had a lot to do today – namely, his appointment with Rita and the Gringotts goblins.
Turns out he didn't really need to worry about his appointments.
Because?
It wasn't Saturday.
Or even Sunday.
Yes, he was just leaving his room as André was coming up the stairs, André had started visibly and then rushed to him, babbling all the while.
"You're up! We were so worried; you've been sleeping for almost 60 hours young man!" His rant had continued along those lines, but poor Harry hadn't heard any of it, no, his mind was caught on the 60 hours bit.
It was really fortunate that André had known about his appointments with Rita and Gringotts and had given them the heads up upon the situation.
It avoided unnecessary misunderstandings with both parties.
Rita enjoyed destroying reputations, he's hate to find out how dangerous she could be when mad.
And angering a goblin.
Not Smart.
Unsure to when I'd wake, André had told them that I'd be in contact with them to reschedule and since he'd forced me on bed rest until he was positive there was nothing wrong with him, this was why contact was done by owl, in bed.
Paranoid Medi-people.
Must be part of the selection process.
And since I had learned it was an equally stupid idea to piss off a Medi-person as it probably was to piss off a goblin.
As much as I hated it.
I was actually listening.
Gringotts had owled back to inform them when he was able to leave the house and they'd set an appointment then.
Rita in comparison was much simpler – he had just invited her over for afternoon tea tomorrow.
His many guests were still there; Syaoran had been adamant that he was not worthy of the cards and he was not going to shame his family by Hadrian's bid as chosen cardcaptor going unchallenged.
Eriol claimed him accident prone and that he wanted to make sure he stayed safe; he wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or insulted by this.
Sakura wanted to stay with her friends.
Tomoyo and Touya were staying because Sakura was.
For very different reasons.
And Yukito was staying because Touya was.
Professor Snape had taken the offer to stay with well concealed joy, and now that he didn't have to brew potions for him all summer, had taken to experimenting with his craft.
Other than that, André was writing and Kero was eating – shock horror.
What was strange was that there had been nothing heard from the cards at all.
Nearly five days.
And nothing.
He didn't expect it to last long.
Though it was somewhat eerie, almost as if because he had been unconscious that they had put their mischief making on hold.
He doubted it.
Nothing in his life had ever been this quiet or this simple, making him feel jumpy and paranoid, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Where did that saying come for any way.
Seemed rather silly.
'Waiting for the other shoe to drop'
Yes, he was officially going nuts.
He blamed bed rest.
He'd be fine if he were allowed in the kitchen.
He was itching to start baking.
Evil Medi-people.
May be if he told André that he needed to make something for afternoon tea with Rita tomorrow he'd let him out.
Doubtful.
Or he could just sneak down; he did have his invisibility cloak.
He had listened and gone to bed.
But fear of angering paranoid Medi-people only lasted until one got hopelessly, horrendously and mind numbingly bored.
Sneaking it was then.
He silently praised his house elves as his door didn't squeak and the floorboards were just as quiet, had a minor heart attack as the library doors banged open as he passed and barely avoided getting run over by Eriol on his way out.
Hopefully Kero wasn't in the kitchen – he'd sell him out in an instant.
Unless he could get Kero to be silent long enough to bribe him, that is.
Heaven knows he'd do anything for sweets.
Though it turns out he didn't need to worry as the kitchen was Kero free (though he suspected it wouldn't stay that way long) and set about making Banoffee Pie.
He sensed it half and instant before it happened, but the warmth and whoosh of the flames still surprised him greatly.
He supposed he should have expected it really, Dumbledore was sure to have figured out that he was behind some rather powerful wards by now – he supposed he should be glad he didn't decide to come with Fawkes.
Come to think of it, he was pretty sure the old man didn't fit the requirements of having a Phoenix familiar.
The Phoenix wasn't going to be the problem; the problem would be the correspondence that came with the beautiful bird.
The correspondence he initially didn't see due to it matching Fawkes' stunning plumage.
"Ah oh." He really wasn't looking forward to that going off – he definitely knew there was no getting around it, especially considering the fact that it was already smoking.
The stupid thing was going to blow his cover.
He detached it from Fawkes, no point giving the poor bird a heart attack, he doubted the old man would create one of these himself, meaning it was probably Mrs. Weasley – It usually was, he'd come to the conclusion she enjoyed yelling at people, he grimaced slightly before bracing himself and breaking the seal.
"… … …"
Silence.
That was unexpected.
It was obvious the thing was working, it had formed itself into that dreaded origami mouth, it was obviously shouting just like the enchantments that created the blasted thing intended.
But there was only…
Silence.
Odd.
He certainly wasn't complaining, but odd all the same.
Then he was told to turn around – without words.
It reminded him of what he had told Kero when they'd first met.
Magic didn't need words.
He slowly turned to find her sitting there, on the counter across from him, cross legged, her left elbow on her right knee, her palm on her jaw even with the oversized collar of the robe like dress covering the majority of her face, cool blue eyes watching him closely in contemplation; she was testing him somehow.
And that was when he realised how silent it was.
That was it.
She was the SILENT.
He expressed his thanks at her intervention by bowing and her magic released a pleased hum, her eyes crinkling in the corners in what was obviously a smile.
She was happy.
He understood, he could understand the wish for quiet, this poor sprite probably had a great deal of trouble being social, a lot of people believed the only way to properly communicate is to speak.
'Good afternoon Miss. SILENT.' He greeted without a word, his magic saying everything for him.
'The Li heir is incorrect. You are worthy, young master.' There was so much joy in her eyes 'I hope we can converse often.'
'You can count on it.'
She stepped down from the counter, placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down and placed her forehead on his, closing her eyes, at peace with her choice, before reverting back to her card form – her long white hair flowing behind her, her index finger raised to her lips in a shushing motion with her deep cool eyes closed in peace with her silence.
The sound of clapping made him turn to find its source.
Only to come face to face with everyone in the house.