Disclaimer: If ye know of Harry Potter, then ye know I don't own it- I'm male. Seemplz.

Magia Mutatio

WARNING: The below chapter contains a reference to 'M' rated material. If you are classified as 'underage' in your country of residence, don't be a retard- don't look up 'French Bunny' by Smutgasm. You'll miss a nice image, though! From now on- no more warnings! :D

In his old age, Dumbledore's old and age-frazzled mind drifted for a few seconds. Pulling himself back together, Albus set down both wands, and rubbed his eyes. He groaned a bit, and suddenly wished for something stronger than his usual alcohol-laced sherbet lemons. He finished rubbing his tired old eyes, and suddenly remembered something very important. He was not supposed to let the wand go. And yet, in his old-age, the Old Goat, the Master manipulator had forgotten to hold on to it. There was a small, two to three centimetre-wide hole in the coloured panes of his window. Dumbledore sighed. It was going to be one hell of a year.

Harry was standing in his dreamscape, which was once again smoky. The In-Between, some may say. Between waking, and dreaming. He knew himself, and he could feel the Mask's intelligence imposed over his own. No, not imposed, more… working in conjunction with his own mind. Harry could feel himself travelling, as it were, northwards, and, somehow, to Scotland. His view cleared, revealing the cave in which he'd met Sirius last year. There was still some chicken bones left that the rats hadn't taken yet. Harry idly wondered how they were doing. He'd be sure to tell Sirius when he saw him next. As Harry wondered why he was in the cave, he noticed, not without aid from the Mask, that there was a small, magical green aura around a small knobble at the back of the small secluded cave. As he peered closer, Harry could see that there was a small, cursive 'S' inscribed into it, slightly worn away with the slight exposure to nature. That, or it was a snake. Either way, Harry knew that it could very well lead into the castle, or even the Chamber of Secrets if he was lucky. As he was about to say the typically obvious password- 'Open' in Parseltongue- something hit him in the head from behind.

The young boy leaped around, searching for something that could hit a non-corporeal being such as he must be (he was dreaming, guys). As he finally registered the fact the there was no one around, Harry noticed a small wooden stick on the floor near his feet. Not just any stick- it was the Deathstick- Dumbledore's wand.

How did it get here, then? How the fuck did it hit me? Harry thought, as he bent over to pick it up. It seemed as if the wand had decided to be used by someone else for a while. The wand glowed, and shone throughout the cave. As the light gave way to the ambient light from outside, Harry was amazed. Instead of him holding a wand- as he expected- Harry was instead holding a large, metal gauntlet. Only one? Harry enthused, as he rolled it over in his hand. This almost makes up for spoiling my nice little dream about a French Bunny and Smutgasm… On the back of the gauntlet- which, surprisingly enough, was a black metal that seemed to glow with an inner light- was a triangle, which was split by a long line through the centre. Superimposed over this was a perfect circle that overlapped the edges by a fraction. The Gauntlet shimmered, and disappeared for a second. The piece of armour was so light, it felt to be the same weight as if he was still holding the wand. Harry understood- or rather, the Mask did. He would find this Gauntlet when he combined the set of Aetherion Fragments. Harry felt a sort of… questioning vibe emanating from the Mask. Did he want to go back now, and stop this weird semi-physical wild-goose chase?

Or did he want to sleep, and wake once more?

Harry groaned into his pillow. His bed was too comfy to get up, but he knew that Aunt Petunia would be calling for him soon. Wait a second… comfy? When did my bed start to get comfy? Harry sat up fast enough to send the blood away from his head, which resulted in an uncomfortable problem. He often awoke with this, but really didn't fancy having a wank in some French noble's home. Harry looked around at the metallic walls of the Inheritance Chamber. The walls- although black- illuminated the room, showing the small bed Harry was on, a cabinet stuffed to the brim with food anyone would salivate over, several Muggle exercise machines like the ones in the Dursley's basement, a potions rack stocked with various green and yellow potions and a bookshelf, sitting completely empty. The room was larger than his own at Number Four Privet Drive, but not too large for his tastes, either.

The green-eyed boy slowly stood, suddenly feeling like a stranger in someone else's body. Looking down, Harry shouted in surprise. His body was different! Not vastly, but enough to feel weird. His arms were no longer emaciated sticks- they held some muscle, willowy and rope-like. His stomach no longer showed his hip-bones and his ribs didn't threaten to break his skin. This is the kind of body Lavender salivates over, Harry thought with a grin on his face. He knew it had something to do with the room. Jacques said it was prepared for his inheritance. Therefore, this change must be part of it. The changes came with a price, however- Harry now truly understood what it felt like to be hungry!

He ran over to the food cabinet to find it stocked in protein bars, high-calorie foods and a fuck-ton of veggies. The rack of potions stood next to it with a note on it:

Harry, while you are proceeding through your Magia Mutatio, you need to exercise a LOT. This room was created to warp time around its inhabitant- you. You will experience vivid visions depicting your future, possibly many per 'night'. The room will offer more training options when you can physically take it- for instance, right now, not even your friend Dobby would trust you with a sword! The Potters were once the epitome of the Warrior-Mage caste- and now you will be too. The magic bindings laid upon you by Dumbledore will degenerate once your body can cope with the fantastic excess of magic that will be running through your veins- so the more you exercise you do increasing your fitness, the more magic you will be able to use. The library provided is to help along your stunted education- there are books on Veela that I assure you would be a good idea to read if you are to survive my daughter. The core subjects are covered in detail, but I would advise against anything Divination- it's useless if you're not a Seer.

I will see you tomorrow in my time, no idea how long it will take for you to be 'released'. Please, Harry, this is not a prison sentence- if you didn't stay in that room, your magic would destroy more than the Hiroshima bomb. Oh, and there are Muggle books, too, should you feel the need to increase your worldly knowledge.

Jacques Delacour

P.S. I will have a small present for you when you return

It was the thirty-third day of his Magia Mutatio. Harry had been exercising every morning, afternoon and night, often whilst reading one of the supplied books- it turned out that the bookshelf was a sort of access point to a vast library with hundreds of thousands of books. Muggle books on the sciences, which he hadn't studied in four years, mathematics- which he found extraordinarily useful in conjunction with Arithmancy- history (both the Muggle and the wizarding versions), Geography, again, both Muggle and wizard varieties, and a whole host of obscure magical spellbooks that Harry doubted could be found anywhere else.

He'd been steadily working his way through the potions regimen that Jacques had laid out for him to follow- the green to ensure his malnutrition was corrected properly, and the yellow to correct his bone structure- although, according to his own studies amongst healing spells- including diagnostic spells- his bones were super-dense and covered in metal. Harry knew about the metal, of course, but the fact that his actual bones were denser than the metal even meant something more- he was different to other wizards, and obviously humankind in general. The two potions combined, when mixed, had another effect- they read what Harry hypothesised to be his DNA, and attempted to correct any differences. It would obviously only work while he was young, and there was a large consensus between readings- obviously, his DNA mutated over time. Harry had noticeably grown over the month he'd been training. He had marked his height on the ground, bare feet to the wall. This way, his back would always be a certain length- no inaccurate measurements.

His studies had taken him from secondary-school level sciences to beyond A-Level standards. His history and geography were even further- he could remember every battle, every death, and every single important person to any specific time period in Europe from now until the tenth century. He knew he was lucky- he had access to the unofficial records of history- his ancient latent wizarding ancestor, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, had written many tomes on the subject, and had stressed that there was a hidden history that was too gory to reveal to the public at large. Templars, the warrior-monks of old, the men who devastated the battlefield during the Crusades, carried on to exist even after their usefulness had expired- they believed that the masses should be sheparded into certain beliefs. Free will was an illusion, they held. The tomes were later edited by another descendent of Altaïr- Ezio Auditore. He had written that the Templars had lasted well into the mid-fifteenth century, fighting tooth and nail to control the world's populace. Ezio had found out, later in his life, that he and Altaïr were descended from the Ones Who Came Before- the Precursors. Every so often in their lineage, the Precursors had attracted someone of their line, and given them a child. The latent magical blood was strong in their veins. They were the gods of old, who were slowly dying. They had an agenda, however.

Ezio also wrote of his struggle against the Templar Order, lead as it was by Rodrigo Borgia, and then his son César Borgia. Ezio killed them both, among many hundreds of lesser Templar men. There was much more recent entry to the ancestral diary, however- a certain Desmond Miles had saved the entire world from certain destruction. The latent magical powers of the Assassins had led to certain obscure abilities- being able to hear a conversation from a good fifteen metres away, having stronger muscles and grip, far better eyesight, far better hand-eye co-ordination, mild metamorphmagus abilities, even being faster and stronger than the average human. Some Assassins had even shown higher brain functions such as a natural understanding of certain processes, and having an improved immune system.

Harry found the Assassin-Templar histories vitally interesting. His ancestors had eventually married into a magical family- the Peverells, but had had many Squib children who then grew up as Assassins. Desmond Miles was one, and so was Ezio. Harry realised that he would be able to train himself to attain these abilities, sometime in the future. His physical training was kicked up a notch to try to attain these abilities. He didn't leave his magical and Muggle studies behind- oh no! Harry was coping with less sleep now, reading as much as he could while running at full sprint, while rowing, while bench-pressing, even while doing squats. He absorbed Muggle science, books on weapons training and martial arts. Harry practiced these two together and separately, often using advanced conjuration to make a semi-sentient dummy, and then proceeding to shoot the thing so full of lead I flopped to the floor. Once there, Harry could manipulate any pressure point he wanted, just as the Dim Mak and Muay Thai videos and books showed. His progress was growing exponentially. The room was all Harry knew- he didn't think about him aging, and time not passing outside- knowledge was all he had, knowledge, magic and the arts of Death.

Harry was gradually allowed more facilities to train himself- a potions lab, with gradually more complex ingredients, a rune carving set and blocks of various woods and metals, even a TV set with a couple of different games consoles and a DVD player. Harry was loving the Muggle tech- in this room, where his magic was absorbed before it interacted with something, he could carve various runes onto the tech, therefore giving them certain abilities. One rune set Harry had devised allowed the tech to function without any electricity- his hypothesis that magic was actually a physical force of nature- like gravity- was looking more likely by the day. This also meant that Muggles would discover it within a matter of centuries- no more Statute of Secrecy. No more separate worlds. Harry knew that Muddledom was concerned with the lack of renewable energy, so he began to mess around with a dynamo and a small piece of repelling magic- with an unbreakable rune, and heat, sound and light absorption, the dynamo made enough electricity to power London on a daily basis. It didn't even take that long to make.

Harry, for the first time in a year, had thought about the outside world. He knew that he needed to get back- if he was too old, his friends wouldn't believe it was him in this body. And what a body it was! Harry was pleased with his progress. Due to the high protein, high carbohydrate foods and the nutrient potions, his physique had dramatically changed- He had a well-formed chest and abdomen, not muscle-bound, but he knew it hid his strength- Harry's Precursor ancestors had a key part in that. His legs were no longer rake-thin- they held a vast amount of power. He could run for hours and only be slightly tired, shaky and out of breath. He knew that if he came back from the summer holidays completely ripped, someone would question it. The problem was, Harry could still feel a lot of his magic still bound to his soul. He suddenly thought- what if it was not the physical training that mattered, but the magical? Harry had neglected the magical side slightly, due to seeing himself as physically weak.

There were more spellbooks than any other genre in the library, and Harry had barely scratched the surface. He resolved to put his all into just maintaining his fitness, and immersing himself in magic.

A/N: So, I may have lied… about not liking the way this was going :) too much love for Gary-Stu. Reading through this again, I realise that my education as a Biology A-Level student has rubbed off on my background mind. No apologies. This could be considered a filler chapter, but until HP comes into the majority of the super-duper-ness, watevah m8

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