Harry Potter and the Lost Generation ch1
A/N; This is the second book of a three book series. The first being, Harry Potter and the Rocky Mountain school of Magic. I would recommend you read that one first, otherwise you will be very lost.
Disclaimer; J.K. Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter and I'm not her.
000
It was a sickly Harry Potter who arrived near the cave entrance at the base of the mountain just outside Hogsmead village. Still reeling from the ritual that had sent him back in time a millennium, the international portkey had done him no favors.
Taking a moment to cast a Homenum revelio to make sure he was alone before he entered the cave. Not feeling up to much of anything at that point he pulled the standard issue hit-wizard tent from his mokeskin pouch and set it up with a wave of his wand.
The tent smelled a bit musty, having not been used since he'd had his forward base enchanted, thirty some years before. However, at that very moment Harry would happily sleep in a sewer so long as there was a bed in it.
Harry quickly activated the tents wards before stripping off his clothes leaving them where they fell. A stomach soother and a mild sleeping draught and Harry was soon asleep.
000
Harry awoke in the late morning. He had plenty to do but yesterday had been particularly difficult. First the deaging ritual had left him in considerable pain. The time travel ritual had felt like taking a portkey to Mars but instead of a pull from behind his navel it was like a boot up the arse. The portkey from Geneva, Switzerland was normally pretty easy for Harry but after everything else he'd been done.
Dressing in a pair of brown wool button fly trousers and a grey pull over under his dragon hide coat, Harry exited the tent and quickly packed it away. He left the cave and slowly started making his way down the hill to a much smaller Hogsmead than he was used to.
The town consisted of only twenty or so houses, what appeared to be an inn, a few tents and market stalls. As he walked into the village, he quickly became the center of attention. The townsfolk looked upon him with suspicion. An elderly was woman working what Harry recognized as a produce stand as he approached.
"Greetings Madam, would you happen to have any apples in your cart?" Harry inquired in old Gaelic.
"Aye, three for a penny."
This was the moment Harry realized that he'd overlooked having contemporary currency. Fishing a piece of silver from his bag.
"I am new here and have no coins. Would you accept silver?" He said offering a roughly eighth ounce piece.
The woman smiled. "Aye, I'll take yer silver." She said before lifting the entire bushel of apples.
"No ma'am just the three apples and perhaps some information?"
She looked at him queerly but nodded.
"I am a blacksmith by trade. I would like to build a smithy in the village. Do you know who I need to talk to for permission?
The old lady smiled and visibly relaxed. "You'll have to speak with Laird Gryffindor up in the castle over yonder. He is the voice of King Mac Bethad Mac Findlaich in these lands."
Harry nodded and thanked the woman before pocketing his apples and making his way towards the castle. He couldn't hold in his excitement at the idea of meeting his house's founder. Though it may be his son. Quickly Harry started doing math in his head. It's either the founder now pushing two hundred years old, something not unheard of amongst wizard or one of his descendants.
000
'Well, this is different' Harry thought as he looked up at the imposing gate house situated where the winged boars would normally sit.
Taking in the situation he stepped forward and rang the bell, by pulling a rope beside the gate.
"No beggars!" A voice shouted down at him from above.
"I'm no beggar! I request an audience with Laird Gryffindor." Harry yelled back.
"You come begging for entrance and claim you're no beggar, you are either stupid or a list, perhaps both." A grubby faced man called for an arrow slit about ten feet above Harry.
"Mighty big words from a coward that hides behind walls and shouts insults that could see him dead." Harry called back.
Harry wondered if it was tradition to have an asshole answer the door at Hogwarts. This man strongly reminding him of Mr. Filch.
"An empty threat from a man who carries no sword." The man mocked.
Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew his Battle mage staff. Transferring it to his left hand and drawing his wand in his right, he began casting detection spells. The wards were strong but nothing like they would be in a thousand years from now.
"What are you doing?" The man asked curiously.
Harry cast three more spells from his wand before firing an over-powered unlocking spell at the gate with his staff, causing them to slam open.
"It would appear that I'm going to the castle to speak with Laird Gryffindor." Harry said with a cheeky smile. Casting a shield over himself, he made his way through the gate and towards the castle.
"No, you don't have permission! Halt!" The man called in a panic.
Harry stopped and looked back to the grubby faced man. "You can either announce me or stand there in a puddle of your own piss, either way I am going to see Laird Gryffindor."
The man climbed down from the gatehouse and pushed the doors shut before running ahead of Harry towards the castle.
"The name is Harfang Blackwell! Be sure to announce me properly." Harry called after the man.
000
Harry had missed the magic of Hogwarts. The castle felt much younger and less motherly but it was undoubtedly Hogwarts. The school had lost its presence, that feeling of belonging after the Battle of Hogwarts. The year he'd taught at the school, Harry had felt the loss of it.
As he stood in the entrance hall, he was reminded quite strongly of the battle. The points counter on the wall looking so new now, had been utterly destroyed. No one had been able to recreate the enchantments, leaving it as yet another thing lost because of Voldemort. Harry preferred the merit system he'd concocted at Rocky Mountain, where students earned individual rewards for exemplary work. Never at Rocky Mountain had a large group been punished for a couple of firsties breaking curfew to do a bit of dragon smuggling. The very thought had Harry laugh out loud.
"What is so funny sir?"
Harry, startled from his thoughts, looked up to see an old plump woman with hair nearly white though with hints of dark brown here and there.
"Musings of my own youth, when I was caught smuggling a dragon hatchling. I was wondering how I thought I'd get away with it back then. Stupidity of eleven year olds. My apologies Madam, allow me to introduce myself. Harfang Blackwell of Bethesda, pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss…"
The older woman curtsied "Madam Helga Hufflepuff of Caerdydd."
Knowing that Caerdydd was the Welsh name for Cardiff, Harry switched to Welsh having a better grasp of it.
"A pleasure Madam, are you a teacher at this school?" Harry asked.
"Aye and what may I ask are you doing here today?" Helga asked with what sounded like genuine curiosity.
"I have recently returned from many years of travel. Having always enjoyed The Kingdom of Alba* I wish to settle down in Hogsmead, I'm a blacksmith you see, and I need permission to build a home and smithy from Laird Gryffindor." Harry explained.
"And you thought that forcing entry into the castle was a good way to ask?" Helga asked with a stealy look in her eye but a knowing smile on her face.
Harry averted his gaze and fidgeted slightly. "The rude man at the gatehouse gave me little choice. When I analyzed your wards, I saw that anyone who doesn't wish harm to those within would be welcome. Had I been forced to talk to that man much longer, I fear the wards would have rejected me."
Helga laughed out loud at Harry's words. "Smithson is a rather rude sort. I understand now and welcome you to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Thank you, Madam Hufflepuff." Harry said with a bow.
"Please call me Helga, only my students call me Madam Hufflepuff."
"Alright Helga but then you must call me Harry, all of my friends do."
"Well then Harry would you like to follow me, I'll take you to see Laird Gryffindor."
000
The Headmaster's office looked nearly identical to how Minerva had kept it. The sorting hat looked far newer and Minerva's clan tartan and biscuit tin were missing but otherwise very much the same.
Godric Gryffindor had the look of an old warrior gone a little to seed. Where he'd once had been heavily muscled, now he was a little doughy. He still cut an impressive figure in his red and gold chainmail, though in places it appeared tighter than was strictly safe.
"Laird Gryffindor, I am Harfang Blackwell of Bethesda, Wales. I am a black by trade and I have come seeking permission to build a home and smithy in the village of Hogsmead." Harry said formally.
The Laird Gryffindor eyed Harry critically. "Do you have any examples of your wares? I will not grant permission to someone unskilled in their craft."
Harry nodded and unbuckled the daggers he carried under his coat, sliding them across the desk still sheathed.
"If I may draw my wand, I have more examples in a shrunken trunk."
Gryffindor nodded his approval, so Harry removed the shrunken trunk from his mokeskin pouch and placed it on the floor before resizing it. Popping it open, he removed two swords, a woodsman's axe and a hammer before closing the trunk again.
"If you need more examples we will have to move outside, my other storage is far too large to expand indoors." Harry explained, causing Gryffindor to raise an eyebrow.
Once Harry had stowed his wand, Gryffindor inspected Harry's daggers. He checked the balance and the edge before slamming the tip into his desk and bending the blade to a forty five degree angle and allowing it to spring back. He pulled the blade from the desk and gave it a closer inspection. Harry suspected he was looking for any bends or other damage to the blade. Soon the Laird Gryffindor nodded his approval.
"That is a fine blade. Let me look at that broadsword there." He said pointing at one of the swords Harry presented.
Harry handed it over, pommel first and watched on with delight as Gryffindor smiled as he unsheathed the blade. He watched as Gryffindor stood and began swinging the sword with expert control.
"You are granted permission to build in the village. You are very skilled in your craft. What would you ask in return for that broadsword?" Gryffindor said casually.
"Thank you Laird Gryffindor. I would normally expect five gold crowns for that sword but from you I'd take four." Harry replied with equal casualness.
"I like a man who knows the value of his work. I shall pay you your four crowns and be grateful. Would you like to join my students and I for supper?"
"That would be lovely, Sir." Harry accepted.
000
In the cover of darkness Harry expanded his forward base and began levitating the building supplies from his garage. He'd left all but a single dirt bike and his Zodiac at home. They both sat at the very back of the garage under heavy notice-me-not charms.
Using the knowledge he'd gained when building Potter Manor, Harry began by laying down a perimeter and vanishing the earth within. He wanted a cellar large enough to keep the forward base expanded within. His plan was a two story brick building, with storefront and workshop on the main floor and a two room flat above it. On the left side of the building would be his smithy with an overhanging roof similar to a carport. Harry hoped to have the cellar complete and the timbers in place before morning. 'Magic certainly made life easier' he thought as he continued to vanish the dirt and rocks.
000
It had taken Harry only six days to build his new home. It looked completely different from anything else in the small village and knowing that the building didn't exist in the future wondered how it would eventually be destroyed. The brief thought saddened him a little, he was rather proud of the pale yellow brick building with its four chimneys and bright red signage.
The main floor consisted of a large open showroom in the front of the building with a large window to display his wares. The wall separating the storefront and workshop held a large double sided fireplace. The back of the main floor was a small workshop and storage room. The workshop would be where he'd do the leather and woodworking as well as minor finishing work such as polishing.
On the right side of the room was a spiral staircase leading to his private quarters on the second floor and down to his cellar. His quarters were quite simple. A large sitting area and kitchen in the front with a similar fireplace to the one downstairs. His bedroom was only slightly larger than his king size bed and wardrobe. A modern mattress was not an amenity Harry was willing to give up. Across the short hall was a second smaller bedroom for Winky, whom he'd released from her transfiguration when he began building the cellar. At the end of the hall was a small bathroom. Just a sink, toilet and bathtub.
In his short time in the past Harry had come to realize that these people, even the witches, stunk. Many reeking of body odor and piss. Wearing filthy clothing. Harry wondered just when the cleaning charms he'd used on missions had been invented. If he had his way, he'd say around 1047AD.
Harry had laid simple detection and intent wards on the building. Besides that he only added rodent and parasite repelling wards and anti-transportation wards over his flat. Neither portkeys, nor apparition had been discovered yet but he was taking no chances.
His smithy was almost ready for business. He was still making charcoal and needed to enchant a blower for the forge. He'd made a medieval alternative to the hydraulic hammer he typically used for stretching and folding metal with a ten ton boulder and ample levitation enchantments.
When the forge was ready he'd begin making hinges, brackets, horseshoes and other commonly needed merchandise to fill his storefront. After that he'd throw together a few examples of chainmail, ringmail and maybe some platemail. It's not as if Hogsmead was a thriving metropolis but he figured having a few examples available may bring in a few customers by word of mouth. Harry knew from speaking to the other merchants that few set up permanent shops anywhere except maybe in the larger settlements, most travelled and went to the potential customers village to village.
000
A/N: Okay, so I couldn't wait to start writing the second book. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. Thank you in advance for your Follows, Favorites and Reviews.
Happy reading.