Unfinished Journeys, Untraveled Roads - 6 - Cracks in Time
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by Polydicta
A selection of unfinished tales that have been abandoned.
Each 'chapter' represents a single story.
Ongoing warnings for smut, language, character death, bashing, torture, mutilation, religious/social iconoclasm and reader brain damage. Brain bleach is highly recommended.
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Disclaimer:
All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.
There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.
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Unfinished Journeys, Untraveled Roads - 6 - Cracks in Time
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The Dark has triumphed and Harry is on a mission assigned by no other than The Pope himself - alone in a network of catacombs deep under The Vatican. Passing through a portal, he will find himself lost in time – in his own past.
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There are elements drawn from a broad range of fictional worlds and a certain amount of very bad Latin and Greek. Normally these would be covered by a slew of author's notes in an extended introduction, but instead - I have omitted them entirely.
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The Vatican and certain aspects of The Church, as depicted, is a fantasy mix based very loosely on a real place and organisation.
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Part One: Triumphos of Atrum Senior (The Triumph of the Dark Lord)
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Chapter 1: Dictum a Priore
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The year was 2012. The tide of war had swept both wizarding and muggle Britain before it, opposed only by a small resistance organisation known simply as The Phoenix. At the forefront of the resistance movement stood a young wizard, Harry James Potter, the rag-tag remnants of the Order of the Phoenix and the now legendary Dumbledore's Army.
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Harry Potter had, indeed, defeated the so-called Dark Lord in 1998, at the Battle of Hogwarts, killing the barely-human revenant of Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort, however, had a final trump card to play. Even though his horcruces had been destroyed, his soul remained anchored to the mortal plane by the dark magic used to create the brand applied to his Death Eaters, the Dark Mark.
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The uneasy peace following Riddle's defeat lasted less than two years before the remaining Death Eaters successfully resurrected the Dark Lord now styling himself Lord Voldemort Draconiumbrus – The Dark Dragon.
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The Phoenix was reborn within days of Voldemort's return, led by the now adult Harry Potter, who insisted that his allies learn whatever they could of whatever lore they could find to defeat the Dark One once and for all. It was they who led the fight against the resurgent evil.
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The last of the Phoenix's leaders fell in October 2012. Dying, the seer Luna Lovegood told Harry Potter to travel to Rome, to present himself at the Vatican Gate bearing the amulet given him by Albus Dumbledore.
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Travelling by illegal portkey, apparation and broom, the scarred and travel-worn mage finally presented himself in early November of that year. So came the last warrior of the light to the gates of the last bastion of the light, and thus began a journey even more fantastical than that which had led him to that place.
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Even in defeat he was an imposing figure. Grizzled and bearded, he commanded not only the mundane magics but other more obscure powers. It was claimed that he was a shape-shifter and more learnéd even than Merlin.
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Chapter 2 Megiddion in Extremis
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"You, My Child, are all that stands between the light and the tide of evil that now threatens to extinguish for ever all that is good. My counsellors tell me that this devil incarnate, the Antichrist himself is now sufficiently powerful that there remains no hope in this time.
"Here we may endure for a small while, but soon the dark tide will engulf us. We have only the candle's hope of drying the oceans. You who have lost so much already represent our only hope, and now I must ask you to give up everything else that yet remains."
"Your Grace, if I don't do this, will anything be left? I can see no alternative. I will, of course do this, but I must ask for three things in return."
"My Child, anything which is in my power to grant, it is yours."
Harry smiled at the old man, the leader of the most widespread religious organisation on Earth, and one of the most powerful people remaining in these dark times.
"Holy Father, I would ask for guidance from those I know are within The Vatican who are learnéd in magical lore. I would ask that you remember those who have gone before me as I will not return from this journey, and I would ask that you consider removing the Decree of Anathema against Wizard-folk."
The temporal head of The Church smiled at the young man, wondering at his simple requests.
"It will be done, and I will remember you in my prayers for as long as I am able to frame the words."
"For us all, then."
"Farewell, Belmagus Potter. I fear that we shall not meet again this side of Paradise. Frère Bernard will escort you to the closed library, and we will equip you as best we may. God Speed, My Son."
The old pontiff raised his hand in the ancient gesture, and Harry felt the magic of the blessing, understanding that this was yet another manifestation of that power that flowed also in his own veins.
The friar, a small man with a sombre countenance led the young man down into the great underbelly of the Vatican. Harry guessed that few outsiders knew that, like an iceberg, seven eighths of the city was below the surface.
In a massive chamber, the mirror of the Pantheon in Istanbul, Harry met a number of the Tellic Scholars. These monks wore brown robes not unlike his own maroon ones.
"Brother Bernard, I'm curious, do you not buy your electricity from outside of The Vatican?"
The friar chuckled. "Only enough for the public areas. We have our own power station deep underground. We are, as you have guessed, self-sufficient here. Now, I must leave you with Magister Septus. I am not permitted beyond the library door.
"Thank you Brother."
He bowed. "Magister Septus."
The scholar eyed the wizard.
"So this is the man who was foretold. Yes, Magus Potter, we have been waiting for you for a very long time."
Harry blinked at the use of the title. At thirty two, he felt less like a magus than he had at eight.
Harry was surprised to see the words of Dumbledore's amulet carven above the door. Ac Tellus nil vid Aeternum. Unto the Earth without view of Eternity. The words that had granted him access to The Vatican and to The Pope himself.
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A month was all that Harry managed there. A month of learning by magic. A month learning everything he could about the place he would be travelling to, about the deep magics forbidden by the Mother Church except in extremis. A month during which Harry learned more than he had in his previous years in the wizarding world.
"Magus Potter, it is time. You must hurry. The Dark One is knocking at the gate even as we speak. Take this, it is the decree Megiddio in extremis. The hour of Armageddon is at hand. The Holy Father also sends this."
He pressed into Harry's palm a ring. The same ancient amethyst ring that Harry had kissed when he met the Holy Father those brief weeks past.
"He has decided to face The Dark One alongside us all. Now, fly. There will be time to rest on the other side of the portal. There are supplies waiting for you beyond the first gate. We will not meet again this side of Purgatory. Go with whatever blessings you can carry. Farewell."
Harry grabbed his pack and rushed from his small chamber. Maroon robes billowing, he passed through the gateway. The great, iron gates swung shut followed immediately by the heavy bronze doors. He manually released a very modern stainless steel portcullis which effectively prevented those doors from ever swinging open again.
In the dim light of the scant electric bulbs strung along the corridor, he made his way past the assorted guardians of the catacombs and the deep places of the earth.
He swung shut the double sets of oak and bronze doors that he passed through. As he reached the first sanctuary he felt, rather than heard the detonation of high explosives and the collapse of the Tellic library.
As he killed the lights in the corridor he had passed down, he said a short prayer for the souls of the monks who had died to protect the secret of Harry's onward journey.
He retrieved the shrunken packages of supplies that were waiting for him, and placed them in his belt pouches. He rested briefly, reviewing the mental map of his path from here to the portal.
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Picking up his staff, he left the sanctuary, closing the cunning stone doorway behind him, barring it with a centuries-old bronze gate like the portcullis of the first gate. As he did, he recited the words around the amulet that Albus Dumbledore had entrusted him with.
And in so doing, he left the world behind him.
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Chapter 3 Ultra Porta Ultima
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"It is a nine day journey to the portal."
"Nine days? But I can walk across Rome in a few hours."
"Yes, and across The Vatican in two. Indeed, the Aegean Sea is only five days afoot from Rome. Remember that the journey you undertake is far beyond mere space and time. Your journey will shape your spirit and your powers until you are the exact instrument of God. Others have passed before you to do God's will, but none who have acted in the face of Armageddon itself."
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Harry had been walking for five days. He had met … incidents. He had been called upon to use magical and mundane weapons, he had prayed with clerics long departed from the world and he had learned at the knees of teachers forgotten in ages past.
He was tired, mentally and physically. He was bone-weary, and ready to drop, but knowing that his time was limited, he pressed on.
At last, he made camp in one of the sanctuaries in the labyrinthine catacombs. And he slept.
"You have time aplenty, young warrior. Once you closed and sealed the second gate, you no longer existed in the same time or space as the world you came from. Here, no time passes, and distance is as nothing. You can cross the universe in the blink of an eye and yet the time between heartbeats is as a life-age of the universe."
Harry sat, recognising that he was dreaming, and yet, this was more than a dream …
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Harry woke, and picking up his pack, he set off. It wasn't until hours had passed that he realised that he had neither eaten nor drunk since he left the Tellic Library.
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At last, nine days since his precipitate departure from the world, he arrived at the chamber of the portal. He decided to rest before entering, and was soon asleep. This time, his dreams were of his friends, his family, his comrades in arms.
He remembered each and their fall. The list, the roll of honour for those who died for him was depressing in its length. The defeats, the towns and villages that fell before Voldemort's unstoppable tide. The fall of Britain, then France, most of Europe. Simultaneous offences in America, Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa.
As each country fell, as the noose tightened, Harry and his remaining comrades fell back, and back further.
At last, a dying Luna Lovegood told him to head to The Vatican, to show his amulet and to hope. With the passing of the last of his friends, he had finally passed beyond hope and vengeance and into that cold, still lagoon of desperation. He had arrived in Rome and found his way to that strange city state, Vatican City.
He was amazed when, asking for an audience with someone, he showed his amulet. An olive tree in a circular frame, the back panel being inscribed with a Latin motto and a strange sigil. He was told immediately to follow, and he was led beyond the public sector, and into the heart of Christendom.
He had been taken to a suite of rooms and told to make himself comfortable. A bath had eased his aches. He had emerged to find the maroon robes waiting for him. The maroon robes that seemed to act as a pass to anywhere in the massive complex.
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Refreshed and once more at peace with himself, he rose. He placed the papal ring on his right index finger and his family signet on his right middle finger.
Harry's greying hair, never cut since his eleventh birthday, was worn in a queue, held by the silver and bronze hair-ring given him by Hermione on his seventeenth birthday. His left ring finger bore the wedding ring of his now dead wife.
Since his arrival in the Papal complex, he had become accustomed to wearing the singletta, a lightweight one piece robe with a high mandarin collar and short sleeves, cinched at the waist by a sash that hid a pouch-belt. Over this he wore the maroon habitias, an open-fronted robe that was worn loose. Under all, he wore the long, loose pants of black linen that he was assured were quite appropriate. The amulet he wore around his neck, outside his singletta, where the priests and monks had worn crosses of varying design.
Overall, he wore a light, hooded cloak of royal blue bearing the crossed spear and crosier of the Papal Knights of Saint Michael the Avenger. The mitre that crowned the crest told its own story, one that Harry found slightly embarrassing.
At his back, peeking from a slit in the cloak, he carried a sheathed sword of ancient design. His wand and those of Hermione, Susan and Luna were in holsters on his forearms, and Dumbledore's Olive and Mermaid-hair wand was in his boot beside McGonagall's and Ron's, close to the knives he always carried.
In all, he looked less like the battle-worn refugee than he had when he had arrived in Rome nearly seven weeks before. Now he looked like some figure from a medieval painting, carrying a walking staff of red thorn-wood and wearing a pointed goatee beard, greying like his hair with a streak of white from a hex some years before.
He squared his shoulders and lifted his pack. He entered the portal chamber with it's blue-glowing doorway.
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Before him stood a massive, square archway, grey stone glistening with the first light of creation.
"You know that once you pass this gateway there is no turning back."
"There is none. The Holy Father has issued the Decree of Megiddion and the way is closed forever. I stand as emissary for both the magical and the mundane worlds."
"Who so stands?"
"I so stand. Harry James Potter, Abbot Episcopal, Papal Knight of Saint Michael the Avenger and bearer of the Papal Signet."
"And how shall you stand?"
"Toward the Earth with no view of Eternity."
"Then pass through the portal and be judged."
Harry entered the blue-rimed blackness.
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Harry walked for what seemed to be hours. There was fine sand beneath his feet, but he could feel the solid stone about an inch below. He was surrounded by that unearthly glistening, but refused to illuminate his way by wand-light or otherwise.
At last, he passed beyond the portal, and found himself on a hillside beneath the stars set in a sky of deepest blue. There was no moon and the desert sands below lay, starlit, about him as far as he could see.
Looking behind him, he could see that he had emerged from a great structure set in the hillside.
A figure detached itself from the shadows.
"Good morning, Harry."
"Professor Dumbledore?"
He could feel the smile. "Yes Harry, and welcome to your next great adventure."
"I'm dead?"
"No, Harry … and yes. As far as the world you came from is concerned, you are as dead as any proverbial dead thing. As far as the universe is concerned, you are still alive, if only in potentio. Your case has been judged, but the decision is yet to be made."
"The portal?"
"Yes, it is a portal between worlds, and in travelling the paths, your soul and your reason for making the journey is judged. Please don't ask how or who by, as I would have to admit my ignorance. There are greater powers in the universe than mere wizards, Harry."
"Then, where to next, Professor?"
"Well, to somewhere a little more comfortable, I should think."
So saying, the mage set off across the hillside.
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They arrived at a massively built structure, like a cross between the pyramids and some piece of modern art. Entering the building, they were greeted by torch-light and the smells of food. There was the sound of people, perhaps a feast.
"Where are we, Professor?"
"Welcome to Thebes, Harry. This is not, I hasten to tell you, the place where you will come when you finally die, this is more like a way-station, a caravanserai. This is a place where the living, the dead and the … in-between are able to meet. A kind of limbo between worlds. When we met before, after he cast the second killing curse on you, that was an aspect of this place, but you are now in a much more, how should I put it, powerful position. You are here this time in body, not in spirit.
"Now, come and join the party."
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They entered a large chamber, a room big enough to swallow Hogwarts whole. There were fire pits and tables, blankets and cushions, and people of all races, colours and, if Harry was any judge, places in history.
As Harry entered, the room went quiet.
"What is it, Professor?"
"You, Harry. You are the last. It is upon you that the continuance of our world rests. You are the pivot upon which the turning of the world relies. If you fail, there will be no others coming here."
The murmur of conversation returned slowly, but at a much lower level than before.
An old woman approached.
" 'Arry Potter, chronika spasimata oloi cosmoi. Epidiorthost ton cosmoi chresimopoiontas to chaos gia na allazei tou chronou." [Harry Potter, time fractures all worlds. Mend your worlds using chaos to change time.]
Having passed on her message, she departed, vanishing in a mist of dust.
Dumbledore blinked. "Did you …?"
"Yes thanks, professor. My Greek is quite passable since I started studying at The Vatican. So is my Hieratic and my Classical Egyptian. Just be thankful she wasn't speaking one of the Gaelic tongues."
"Why Harry?"
"I have only a smattering of Irish, Welsh and Scots. Mainly from various people cursing roundly in those languages."
Dumbledore laughed. "Minerva cursing?"
Harry nodded, smiling at his memories of the dour witch.
"Harry, I know about the death-stick. It turned up here a while ago with Miss Bones."
Harry smiled.
"It was a bit of a trick. Susan was dying, and I got her to duel me. I was … slow with my shield, so the Elder Wand passed to her. She died before anyone else could take control from her."
"Excellent, Harry. What about the horcruces?"
"All gone, but he has some other anchor as well. Hermione believed that it was to do with the dark mark on the death eaters' arms. The Tellic Scholars tended to agree. They resurrected him eighteen months after I defeated him. He's even less human now than he was last time, and the death eaters are even more fanatical."
"And you, Harry?"
"I've lost everything. If I want my life to be worth anything at all, then I have to do whatever I can to reverse the changes he has made. The Pope has even enacted the Decree of Megiddion."
Dumbledore's face became set. "Merlin's beard, Harry. He's become that powerful? The end of civilisation … the end of the world. He has started the final battle?"
"Not quite, but the light has failed. The Holy Father was taking up arms himself. I left at the Breaking of All Calendars."
Harry showed Dumbledore the amethyst ring. The professor sat heavily, shaking his head.
"Yule 2012, the end of the world, as foretold by so many seers. How can you hope …?"
"Because despair is unthinkable."
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They sat in silence for a time. At last a young man approached. "Harry Potter, you will follow me. Albus Dumbledore, also."
They were led into the now moonlit desert. A large Bedouin-style tent stood amongst the trees of an oasis. They were bid enter. A man in medieval clothing greeted them.
"Greetings and welcome. I am Thomas Mallory. I have news for you.
"Harry, you are to be given the opportunity to make right what is wrong in the world. There is a single act that must be corrected, and you must steer events to an agreeable conclusion. I am sure that I don't have to explain the risks involved with time travel, but you will not be able to take direct action in any way that is, to those closely involved, obviously outside interference, you may only steer events. You may, however, use dreams and subtlety as well as your … position in The Church. There are safeguards in place, whatever you can change can be changed, events that are fixed will remain so. Even so, The Powers have granted you unprecedented latitude."
"Albus Dumbledore, for your involvement in the creation of the environment that caused the current situation to arise, you will serve as Mr Potter's hidden eyes and ears in the world. As a free-roaming spirit, you will be able to observe unseen, but you will not be able to interact with any but Mr Potter.
"Do you both understand? Any questions?"
Harry and Dumbledore nodded.
"Just one thing," Harry asked, "what is the single event?"
"Your marriage. You were wed to the wrong woman and far too late. You must be bonded with your soul-mate on or before the winter solstice of your seventeenth year."
An arrow seemed to pass through Harry's heart. "But…?"
The knight smiled sympathetically. "Just one word … Amortentia."
"Love potions? Who? Wha … Why?"
"Someone who wanted a rich son in law and a big, happy family. They are scheduled for a long time impurgatore for interfering with a fated couple, no matter what the outcome. You could … reduce their discomfort."
"We'll see. Very well, let us be off?"
"Just one other thing, Harry. You will need these."
Harry accepted a folded parchment and an old-fashioned key. The parchment contained the message, The Abbot Episcopal, Johannus Petraxus Kethrington resides at Old Bishop's Mews, Haughsdale.
"Everything you need will be there when you arrive by train. Your housekeeper is a squib by the name of Mrs Hannah Beltravois. You will be taking up your post as Defence Master at Hogwarts in September, but as an Abbot Episcopal, you will have other duties, too."
"Pardon?"
"You are, you know, a Papal Agent, after all, and some time you will have to return His Holiness's ring."
Harry just felt a lurch in his heart.
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Chapter 4 Haughsdale
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Harry walked through a doorway in the back of the tent, and found himself on a train not unlike the Hogwarts Express. There were a few passengers in the compartments, and Harry could see where he had apparently been travelling, with only a valise and a despatch case.
He sat down and opened the dispatch case, noting the fine red leather exterior and the papal arms.
He read (in Latin) the letters patent issued by his Holiness, assigning him to the See of Haughsdale. He found his various legal papers and diplomatic passport, according to which he had arrived from Rome that morning. He looked through other papers which contained a reasonable history of himself, a briefing on his duties in Haughsdale and his appointment as DADA tutor for this year. He suddenly realised that in his previous life he was soon to celebrate his fifth birthday, if celebrate could be the right word. Today was July 20, 1985.
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Haughsdale was a semi-wizarding village next to the rail-line that went on to Hogsmead. For most passenger trains, Haughsdale was the end of the line, indeed, to muggle eyes, the line beyond was derelict and overgrown.
The climb to Hogsmead was a mere three miles, up the River Haugh which had its source in the Great Lake before Hogwarts Castle. It was about ten minutes by broom. Old Bishop's Mews lay on the northern outskirts of the village on the hill overlooking the small church with its crumbling tower and overgrown churchyard. The modern Anglican vicar of Haughsdale lived in a modern house below the church.
Harry let himself into the house and was greeted by Mrs Beltravois.
"Good morning yer grace. How was yer journey?"
"It was excellent, Mrs Beltravois, thank you. Now, before we go any further, I need to get settled in a bit. Oh, and I'd rather not be your grace if you can remember. Reverend Kethrington for public use or John in private, please?"
The woman looked a little shocked. "But, sir, you are …"
Harry smiled kindly.
"That I may be, but there is no need to excessive formality around me. One of the things I was looking forward to in coming back to Scotland was the friendliness of the people."
She spluttered a bit. "I was told that … Papal Envoy … Knight …"
"Mrs Beltravois, I have no idea how long I will be back in Britain, and I really do like to be on friendly terms with whoever is around me. Now, please try to call me John, I find Johannus to be a bit of a mouthful."
"In which case, I'm Hannah."
"Pleased to meet you, Hannah." Harry smiled and shook the woman's hand. "Now, perhaps a cup of tea and I need to unpack. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to a cup of tea. There's only dreadful decaffeinated coffee in the Papal Palace."
The woman looked at him. "You're English then?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, but I was educated just up the road from here."
She gawped. "You're …?"
"A wizard? Yes, in fact, first and foremost. That is actually why I'm here and not a prelate with a prejudice. Besides, I've been asked to fill in as DADA teacher for this year."
The woman nodded, everything becoming clear.
"I thought that Wizarding folk were anathema."
"Publicly, yes, but His Holiness is ever open to expediency."
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He entered his private suite, comfortably furnished in the same style as his suite in the Vatican had been. He saw three travelling trunks, each bearing the papal seal above the lock.
After removing his cloak and divesting himself of the sword and other unnecessary paraphernalia, he opened the three multi-compartment trunks. Inside, he found books, presumably copied from the Tellic Library. There were files of information on the known death eaters of this time, information that could not have been known in Harry's original timeline.
He found clothing appropriate to his current profession as a Papal Envoy, and a detailed brief on his duties as well as the items that he would be expected to possess. There was also a richly bejewelled pectoral cross to wear in public in lieu of the Tellic amulet.
The third trunk was the most interesting, containing equipment and supplies for a complete potions laboratory, a substantial supply of potions, mostly for healing, but a few others including a large bottle with a dropper-top labelled Sera Verita.
He found a complete set of basilisk-skin armour, training weapons and a broomstick. This last was most unusual in being an American elite auror unit broom, designed for stealth, speed and combat. The documentation told him that it was a Vulcan Broomstick Inc. Vampyre Venom (Govt. Special) Mk XIII.
Harry quietly wondered just what his current masters thought he would be getting into, especially since the broom was a model not due to be developed for another seventeen years. He noticed that there was a flying helmet with the broomstick. He set it aside for the time.
Exploring his suite of rooms, he found a broomstick loft with an owlery attached, a moderately well equipped potions laboratory, a small magical gymnasium, a private study and library, bathroom, two bedrooms, a parlour and the comfortably-appointed reception room he had first entered.
Returning to the public part of the house, he found a dining room, a reception room, a small, private dining room, an office and the doorway into the kitchen.
He passed through this to find a young cleric sat at the kitchen table drinking a mug of tea with the housekeeper.
He rose and made the obeisance demanded by custom. Harry responded appropriately.
"Your Grace, I didn't expect to …"
"We will have less of this Your Grace nonsense in private, please. Now, I wasn't aware that there was another occupant ...?"
"Forgive me. I am Father William. I am Curé of the See in the absence of any higher curate being in residence. Mrs Beltravois tells me that you know the area?"
Harry smiled, the scars on his left cheek puckering disturbingly. "Yes, I was educated just up the road, at Hogwarts."
The curate's eyes widened. "So the rumour is true, you are …"
"A member of the order of St Michael the Avenger? Yes, for my many sins."
"But yet you wear the robes of an abbot of the Tellic Order?"
Harry chuckled. "There is no conflict of interest here. The Tellic Scholars are not simply readers of ancient lore, they are accomplished Knights of the Cross, also. I trust that this clarifies matters for you?"
The Curé shook his head. "I never thought to serve before one of The Holy Father's elite, least of all after the fall of The Anome Negrié." [The Nameless Dark]
Harry smiled gently, an expression that calmed the heart of the young Curé.
"Sadly, it is His Holiness's opinion that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not gone, merely unseated. His Holiness has charged us to discover the truth. He has also passed the Decree of Anathema Absolute against the self‑styled Dark Lord and his followers.
"It is the opinion of the Conclave of Cardinals that the man, if that be what he is, is either The Antichrist or his avatar. It is the will of The Conclave that he be prevented from ever achieving his ascendancy."
The young curate looked at Harry and murmured, "and you are the one sent to ensure … "
"… that he never does. Yes. Please understand that I am not alone, I am merely the left hand of The Church, the agency through which the light will act. As far as The Church at large is concerned, I don't exist."
And so saying, Harry sipped his tea and considered his actions over the next few years, uncertain whether he would be here or somewhere else in time or space. He wondered if, once his mission was accomplished, he would simply fade from existence, leaving his younger self to develop of himself. He would ask Albus some time.
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Part Two: Annua Dursleii (The Dursley Years)
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Chapter 1: A Birthday Gift.
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Harry Potter was in his cupboard under the stairs. He had been locked in, once more because of it, doing what Vernon Dursley referred to as his freakishness.
What The Freak didn't know was that it was his birthday, he didn't even know his own name. He knew, though, that he was hungry and he knew that it hurt to breathe. There was a grating sensation in his chest and it hurt where Uncle Vernon had beaten him.
There was a knock at the door, and he heard Aunt Petunia go to the door.
"Good morning. Mrs Petunia Dursley? I am Abée Johannus Kethrington. I am here in connection with your nephew, Harry Potter."
He heard his aunt splutter, torn between being rude to whoever it was and letting them in. Young Harry had no idea who this Harry Potter might be.
Harry heard footsteps outside his cupboard, going through into the sterile front room of number four Privet Drive. A moment later and Petunia hauled Harry from his cupboard and pushed him into the front room.
"See what you've done now, Boy? You've brought the Church down on us!"
"Thank you Mrs Dursley. Now, I am instructed that I must speak with your nephew in private."
Once Petunia had left and closed the door, Harry knew that the dreadful woman would be listening at the outside. He surreptitiously cast a muffliato resonia around the emaciated child and himself, letting Petunia hear the sounds of voices but never clearly enough to understand them.
Harry looked at his younger self.
"Good morning Harry, and Happy Birthday."
Harry handed the boy an envelope and a small package. The boy accepted them with a quiet thank you but didn't attempt to open them.
Harry sat down. "Well, aren't you going to open them?"
Young Harry looked at him. "But worthless freaks like me aren't allowed birthdays or Christmas."
"Harry, you are neither worthless nor are you a freak. Do you even know what it is that they are referring to as your freakishness?"
The boy shook his head.
"Then I shall enlighten you. Tell you, that is. You have the ability to make things happen that defy the normal laws of nature. Now don't tell anyone, or The Walrus will beat you some more. He is deathly afraid of your talent.
"Now, how are your ribs feeling?"
The boy had tears in his eyes as he shook his head.
"Then let's fix them, shall we?"
Harry placed his hand over the broken ribs and said loudly, "Heal this child!" At the same time, he cast a silent healing charm, repairing the broken ribs, at the same time disabling some of the monitoring charms that Dumbledore had placed on the baby Harry.
"Now, your presents. Card first?"
Harry opened the card, smiling at the cartoon snake with psychedelic eyes holding a placard that read "Happy Birthday Harry". Inside was a simple birthday greeting addressed to Harry James Potter.
"Thank you sir."
"Come on, now your present."
The boy carefully took off the wrapping paper, folding it and placing it neatly on the table. He stared at the carved wooden box bearing the initials HJP.
"Open it, I want to see what's inside."
He opened the hinged lid carefully, finding inside a stick of wood and two books.
He held up the wand which emitted a small gush of red and gold stars, looking at the man with a question in his eye.
"It's called a wand. It will allow you to control your powers. You're not supposed to use it until you're older, but just having it near will help. The books, well, you read them, follow the instructions carefully and do the exercises and you will have a head start. Keep them and your wand in the box, and no one will be able to steal them from you, and that's a promise."
"Um, I'm sorry sir, but who …?"
"Ah, My name is Johannus Kethrington and I knew your parents, if briefly. No matter what your Uncle and Aunt say, they were good people. They also worked for a branch of the police and were killed by terrorists. Now, my time is up and I must return to my own duties."
"Are you a policeman too?"
"No. I'm a kind of guardian angel. Goodbye Harry."
"Goodbye sir … will you be coming again?"
"I am certain of it."
"Now, Mrs Dursley, I note that the boy is severely undernourished, that he seems to live in an under-stairs cupboard, and that he doesn't actually possess any clothes that fit, even remotely. I wonder what is happening to the, let me see, nearly ten thousand pounds a year for the lad's keep? It is clearly not being spent on your nephew."
Petunia spluttered.
"Now, I need to take a look at the boy's proper bedroom, since there are only the four of you living here."
She pointed at the cupboard under the stairs.
"Not good enough. This will be going into my report on Harry's living conditions, and you had best understand that we will see an improvement. You have six weeks to ensure that Harry is properly fed, clothed and housed. I also require that you ensure that his belongings and that his person be held safe and secure.
"Do not for a moment believe that the church doesn't know your nephew's history, nor his heritage. He has been well catered for by his parents, and you have taken the money supplied from his trust fund to feather your own nest. Be warned that we will be recovering his funds if we do not see an improvement.
"Good day, Mrs Dursley, and I suggest you take the lad to the hospital and to the optician. And spend the money, else I shall be most upset."
This last was stated quite loudly outside the house before the door was slammed shut behind him.
Harry wandered over to see Mrs Figg.
.
"I am here concerning young Harry Potter."
"Oh dear, did Albus send you?"
"No, Arabella, The Vatican."
The elderly squib sat sharply.
"Have you told Mr Dumbledore the conditions under which Harry is being kept?"
She nodded. "He said that it was for the greater good that he stays there, and that he was better protected by his blood relatives."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Mrs Figg. Please do what you can for the boy, and if he turns up harmed, as he will, please floo me immediately. Ask for Abée Johannus Kethrington, I will come and heal the boy, or send someone who can. The other thing is that he is underfed."
Mrs Figg nodded. "I try to feed him when he comes over …"
"Then I will provide you with strengthening and other draughts to supplement his diet with. He is aware of his magic, and may ask questions. Please answer them circumspectly, he needs to learn despite Dumbledore's words to the contrary. The Mother Church has intelligence that you-know-who is gone but not for ever, and that when he returns, that will lead to the final conflict. Armageddon. Harry must be ready for this, as he will be in the front line of the war when it comes."
Mrs Figg paled at the word Armageddon. "Really the final war? I suddenly feel very old. I knew the boy's parents."
"I know. Did you know that he didn't actually know his own name? That he was beaten last night and given two broken ribs? That he was told that he's a worthless freak?"
Mrs Figg nodded. "That sounds about right. I used to have Professor McGonagall here to heal him when he was tiny, but Albus found out, so I have had to do what I can. I'm no good with magic, you know."
"Except for a major Animal Affinity and that you're an unregistered animagus?"
She looked shocked. "H-how … ?"
Harry smiled. "We have our methods, and your special magics may save your life one day. Now, I must leave. Remember, floo me if you need anything for Harry, and don't tell Dumbledore. Oh, yes …"
Harry pointed his wand at the squib's head, "obscuro mens viae. It's only an anti-legilimancy charm. It means that you can't pass on any information unwillingly, or unwittingly. You know that Dumbledore and Snape routinely use legilimancy, don't you?"
The elderly woman looked shocked.
"Shh! Don't tell a soul. Thank you for caring for Harry. Good bye."
He apparated away with merely a hiss of air in order to prepare for his classes at Hogwarts at the beginning of September.
.
-::::::::-
.
Chapter 2: Defence Against The Dark Arts
.
September arrived and with it the commencement of the new year at Hogwarts.
Harry had prepared a fairly complete set of classes for the fourteen groups that he would be teaching over the year, encompassing the seven student years.
"And I take pleasure in introducing our new Defence teacher, Abée Kethrington, a man with a most unusual background who has agreed to spend this year teaching you."
Harry stood and nodded to each of the four house tables. His maroon robes were in sharp contrast to the black robes of most of the other professors.
.
There was an ear-splitting bang and the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins looked around nervously. Harry cast aside his disillusionment and started casting petrifying hexes at the class. Finally one of the Gryffindors managed to get his wand out and to cast a shield.
"At last! Someone remembers what a wand is for! Mind you, I could have killed or seriously injured …"
He counted, "… eleven of your class before any of you reacted. This isn't good enough. Why do you all have your wands in your back pockets? Why did you take so long to react?"
Ha nervous hand rose.
"Yes?"
"Because we weren't expecting to be attacked in class?"
"So? Why not? What is the title of this class?"
"Umm … Defence Ag …"
"Exactly. Defence."
Harry cast the counter-hex on those who had been frozen in place.
"This term we will be concentrating on DEFENCE. You will be practising your spells, you will be learning teamwork, you will be writing homework and you will not be needing your assigned text in class, And more than this, you will be tested in every class…"
By the end of the class, every student understood that wands were carried ready to use, that a shield spell should be ready on their lips at all times, and that he may attack them at any time in class.
"And your name, Lad?"
"Kite, sir. James Kite."
"Well done Mr Kite, nine points to Gryffindor. It would have been more if you had been quicker."
Harry's first week and the rest of the year continued in much the same vein. He vowed that this particular generation of students would be as well equipped as he could make them.
.
The conversation in the Gryffindor common room that first evening was repeated in kind often that first week.
"What about that nutter in Defence?"
"I dunno, mate. I learned a lot today, even if I did get petrified. I mean, it made sense."
"What about all of those scars on his face?"
"And did you see his arms?"
"I heard that he's part of some elite auror force from Italy."
"But he's English."
"So? They probably just pick the best. Did'ja see the broom he arrived on?"
Several nods. "An' he was wearing a flight helmet like the muggle pilots do."
"How fast d'ja think he was he travelling. I know it's hard to breathe on a Nimbus 1700 at full pelt."
"I dunno, but it was faster than any racing broom I've seen. I bet it's a special auror issue broom … 'Ere, when'ave you ever been on a Nimbus 1700?"
"My cousin's got one. He let me have a ride."
.
-::::::::-
.
Chapter 3: Meeting Miss Granger and a Return to Privet Drive
.
Harry visited Hermione on her birthday, armed with a package, an envelope and a portable ward-stone.
"Mrs Emma Granger? I am Abée Johannus Kethrington, and I am here to meet your daughter, Hermione. Is she in?"
Mrs Granger invited Harry in and bad him wait in the lounge. Harry reflected that there was very little change between now and when he saw the house destroyed by Death Eaters in a few short years.
Hermione arrived, looking nervous.
"Good evening, Hermione, and Happy Birthday."
She looked at him appraisingly. "You're not a regular priest, are you?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm what's known as an Abbot Episcopal."
She curtsied.
"I'm sorry Your Grace, I didn't realise…"
"Hermione, I'm not here in a formal capacity, I'm travelling around to meet a number of exceptional students who I know will benefit from my visit in a few years time."
He let this sink in for a moment.
"Mrs Granger, tell me, has Hermione ever done anything … inexplicable?"
He could see the cogs turning and the memories appear.
"Exactly. Now, I am here to … prepare you and your daughter for something that will happen on her eleventh birthday. Now, do you believe in magic? Not stage conjurors, but real magic."
Hermione shook her head. "Not really … it doesn't make sense."
Emma Granger shook her head. "No. Magic is for children and fairy stories."
"Well, magic is real. It's rare and it's illogical, but it is very real. And you, Hermione, have the talent for it. Don't believe me? Look …"
Harry pointed his wand at the table and transformed it into a Shetland Pony, and quickly back.
"Was that real or an illusion?"
"It was real. Want to meet the pony again?"
She nodded and walked over to the table as Harry transfigured it again. Hermione petted it and it nuzzled her hand. She felt it's hot, wet breath and smelt its horse odour.
"It's real! Oh!"
And she was standing by a table once more.
"Now, because of the law in Britain, you are not supposed to be aware of magic, but we have become aware of … a destiny, if you like. And you, Hermione, need to be aware of the magical world before you would otherwise be told. Now, Happy Birthday …"
Harry handed the girl the envelope and the package. She opened both sedately, smiling at the magically animated card showing herself blowing out the candles on a birthday cake. She was amazed.
"Thank you …"
"Now the package?"
She opened the present, finding a wooden box identical to young Harry's, but bearing the initials HJG. Inside were three books and a wand.
She took out the wand and the room was filled with warm breezes, golden light and the smell of tropical flowers.
"Oh my!"
"Your wand. You will still need to buy one from Mr Ollivander when you are eleven, but this one will serve you well. Keep it hidden from prying eyes, and read the books, and let your mother read them too. Follow the instructions in the books carefully and practice the exercises and you will have a good head start.
"Oh, and remember to keep the books and your wand in the box, that way no one will be able to steal them, and that's a promise. Now, this is called a ward-stone. It will prevent anyone detecting your magic within about a twenty-yard radius, since you're not really supposed to perform magic yet. It's all in the books.
"Now, my time is up, and I must return to my other duties. Goodbye Hermione, Mrs Granger."
"Thank you sir …"
Harry never heard the rest because he had apparated with a hiss of air leaving the two Granger women thunderstruck.
Within ten minutes, Hermione and her mother had their noses firmly inserted in two of the books. Hermione was reading a magical primer and Emma was reading the introductory text on magical law, both accompanied by the comforting presence of cups of tea.
Hermione wandered outside and came in a minute later with a short length of garden cane with which she practised her wand movements.
.
While Hermione was practising her wand movements, Harry was visiting Privet Drive. This time Vernon answered the door.
"Mr Dursley, I am here on the matter of Mr Harry Potter, your nephew."
"Get out of my house, freak!"
He never got any further. Harry had petrified Vernon in place. A small charm later and Vernon was inviting Harry in. He noticed that his young self was still living in the cupboard under the stairs.
"I instructed you to improve the state of Harry's living arrangements, Mr Dursley. You are paid a small fortune to care for the boy, and you treat him worse than a dog. Now, bring him out of his prison."
"Who are you to …"
Harry's voice dropped to a quiet growl. "I am Abée Johannus Kethrington, Abbot Episcopal and Papal Envoy. Unless you wish me to perform Extreme Unction upon you in Great Whinging Catholic Church this evening, you will obey."
"I'm not afraid of you! I'm Church of England!"
Harry smiled, his scars creasing menacingly. "And are you afraid of the social stigma of having reached the notice of the Papal Envoy? You are, I can see it in your eyes. I'd remind you that the Managing Director and the Marketing Director at Grunnings attend that church regularly."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Yes, and quite effectively, too. Get Harry. While you do that, you will consider what the loss of ten thousand pounds per annum from your income will do for your nest-egg, especially as we will be taking action to recover all previous moneys paid to date."
The Walrus paled and then turned purple.
"Now, now, Mr Dursley, we don't want you having that coronary that you've earned with so much effort."
"You're not even a real … you're a freak!"
"Oh, I quite assure you, I am a real Abée with real Letters Patent and a very real job to do working with especially gifted children. Now, do as I say or you will find yourself quite destitute."
Harry was brought out from his cupboard.
"Abée!"
He ran to hug his elder self.
"How are you Harry? I can see that the walrus and the giraffoid haven't improved. What about the pig-in-a-wig?"
"I was beaten after you left. Uncle Vernon tried to take my birthday present, but it bit him."
"Do you hurt now?"
The boy nodded.
"Oh Lord, Heal this child!"
And the usual healing charms fixed the outstanding damage, including a fractured wrist and shoulder.
"Dursley, get yourself, your wife and that useless whale of a boy of yours in here. Now."
The trio arrived.
"I will tell you this once only. You will give Harry a proper room, furnished with proper bedroom furniture, new furniture. You will take him shopping for new clothes, you will feed him properly and you will cease beating him. You will also cease trying to take his belongings.
"Failure to comply will be rewarded by your public ex-communication, which will do your standing in society no good at all, you will be forced to repay all moneys paid to you for this child's keep and you will thence be taken into papal custody to stand trial before the Conclave of Cardinals. You have seven days to comply. Let me see the room the boy will be given."
A pale and shaking Petunia took the Abée up and showed him the smallest bedroom, Dudley's junk room.
"Unacceptable," was Harry's whole response. "Who uses this one?"
"That's the guest room. Vernon's aunt uses it when she visits."
"The foul woman with the bull-terrier fixation? Use the smallest room for her."
"But what about Dudders?"
"He has his own room, has he not? One room's enough for any boy. Let me remind you that the protections given your family by your sister's death specified that Harry must call this home, and he must be raised in a loving environment for the blood wards to protect you and he alike. At the moment those protections are worth nothing. And believe me, there are plenty of people looking for young Harry who won't care a fig for killing you as a pleasant entrée to killing the boy.
"Be warned that Harry is not only under magical protection but is under the protection of the Mother Church, and The Vatican is a force to be not discounted. Now, get your useless husband and corpulent son up here, this room will be cleared of all the worthless junk, and Harry will be moved up here tonight, while I watch."
.
An hour later, Harry had moved his paucity of property into the spare bedroom and the elder Harry had surreptitiously cast a number of security charms on windows and door. No one would enter the room uninvited and the Dursleys never at all.
"Now, Harry, your relations are unable to enter your room, so I want you to be a good boy and keep it as spotless as you can. You will need to take down your dirty laundry and bring up the clean, you will need to make your own bed, decorate if it needs doing, and to vacuum and dust it yourself. Do you understand?"
He nodded.
"Now, I have brought you a few things for your room …"
Harry handed the boy a small package which he un-shrank. It contained a selection of clothes, some more books, information on getting himself a library ticket, some muggle money and writing materials. Happily, there was a dressing table in the rather horrid fitted furniture that Harry could use as a desk, the cupboard alongside being suitable for use as bookshelves.
"Oh, and there's a little charm that I know for keeping dangerous dogs at bay. You won't need your wand, but you will need to look it in the eye …"
Young Harry learned the cantrip very quickly.
"Now, Dursley, remember what I said. There is no harm in getting both boys doing chores, and that includes learning how to cook. You will get him proper clothes, rather than the rat-bag stuff he currently has, he will be fed properly, and why hasn't he got any glasses from the optician? I see you just picked up a pair from the charity shop. And he's to never have his hair cut.
"Oh, and one other thing … he is to be praised for doing well at school. he is actually a quiet, polite boy, and your continued badmouthing him will result in the penalties I mentioned earlier. I will return, you may be certain."
He quickly cast the anti-legilimancy charm over all four of the occupants of the house, knowing that as the caster, it would not keep him out of their minds.
He left the house, found a quiet alley and returned to Scotland. At his next visit, he saw that things had improved for the boy, and young Harry was doing well at school.
.
-::::::::-
.
Chapter 4: Christmas 1985
.
Harry sent gifts of books and writing materials to both his young self and to Hermione. Having spent the Christmas holiday officiating and attending the various churches in his See, he relaxed on Boxing day by walking the hills above Hogwarts.
The following day he went to visit his young charges.
At Privet Drive, Harry received an enthusiastic greeting form his younger self. Young Harry had used the dog-repelling charm to good purpose. Aunt Marge had been mortally offended at being given the smallest room. She had tried to waltz into Harry's room, and had simply bounced off the wards preventing uninvited entry.
"So, why is The Vatican interested in the useless offspring of a pair of work-shy alcoholics?"
"Actually, Harry's parents were with the Special Services. They were betrayed and died in a revenge attack on Halloween just after Harry's first birthday. As far as I know, neither of them drank after they had completed their training.
"And The Vatican is interested in Harry because he is a particularly gifted young man, and I made a promise to ensure that he was well looked after. Sadly, I was unable to do so until recently because of my … situation."
"Isn't it unusual for priests to wear their hair long or to wear a beard?"
Harry smiled. "My order never cut our hair as it is one of God's gifts to us, and my beard covers a multitude of scars. Children and old ladies find my clean-shaven countenance frightening, especially as I would invariably cut myself rather badly when shaving."
"Pardon me, Abée?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"How did you get those scars?"
Harry smiled gently, the beatific expression sitting strangely on his marred features.
"I fought in a war against a madman. And before you ask, it was before I took Holy Orders, and I was attempting to save people from the evil lunatic. I was injured a number of times. But you have a war-wound, yourself."
Harry indicated the scar on his younger self's forehead, his own copy having faded and been replaced by a large burn some years since.
"I have?"
"Yes, that was done the night your parents died defending you."
Harry gave a number of gifts to the family. Aunt Marge received a giant dog chew, Petunia received a book on business entertaining, Vernon was given a bottle of single malt whiskey from the Haughsdale distillery, Dudley accepted a book on fitness training almost graciously, and Harry took delivery of a small trunk which he was told to open only in his room. It was a fairly complete introductory potions kit with several potions primers and an instruction to only do what he was instructed to do in the text books.
"I thought you people were against drinking," was Vernon's cheerful thanks.
"Only when to excess and only for ourselves. Take a little wine for thy stomach's sake, sayeth The Lord."
Vernon grinned. "I'll drink to that. Your good health, Abée."
Harry quickly scanned the young boy's thoughts, and found that the Dursleys had genuinely reached an accommodation with the presence of a nascent wizard in the house. He also found that Dumbledore had visited, but had left quickly when he was satisfied that Harry was being properly looked after.
.
The next visit was to the Grangers. Here was less concern and more merriment.
"Abée Johannus, welcome and Merry Christmas. Come on in. Can we offer you a drink at all?"
"I would accept a glass of fizzy water to be sociable, thanks. I came to wish you all a merry Christmas, and to bring a larger gift for Hermione. I see that your studies go apace."
"How can you tell?"
"You look as though you have run out of books to read."
The Grangers laughed. "You know our daughter too well. She devoured the texts you already gave her, and has already completed the exercises."
Harry presented her with a small chest.
"The contents of this chest take up a lot of space if unpacked completely. It is an introductory potions laboratory along with a range of texts. I need not warn you that you must follow the instructions with great care, even when they seem illogical. Whilst there is little risk of harm or damage in this kit, I assure you that it is not a toy. Most of the potions that you can make are actually useful if made correctly.
"Now, Mr Granger and Mrs Granger …"
He handed them two bottles, knowing what they both drank. They were impressed.
"How …?"
"We have our ways of gathering information," Harry said, tapping the side of his nose. "I asked at the off‑licence."
After fielding an hour of questions from both family and young witch, Harry cast his anti-legilimancy charm over the three of them.
"This is a simple spell that will prevent anyone discovering that any of you are actually aware of the magical world. The results could be unfortunate."
And so saying, he bid them a Merry Christmas once more, and disapparated with a quiet hiss.
.
-::::::::-
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Chapter 5: Dream-time
.
The hardest part of Harry's task was the day-to-day guidance of his young charges. He had already managed to ascertain from Dumbledore's spirit that Molly Weasley was behind the use of Amortentia on both himself and Hermione all of those years past. Now, he needed to ensure that it didn't happen again.
Dumbledore suggested that Sibyl Trelawney may be the most appropriate target for a prophetic dream, the woman being both slightly unhinged and a genuine if erratic seer.
.
The text that they agreed on was:
The return of the Dark Lord shall be heralded in the eleventh year of his conqueror. He who hath defeated once shall rise triumphant thrice more. Those of the light should not trust the children of the flame toward the warrior of the light nor with his consort. Emerald shall look unto amber and amber unto emerald that the shadow shall be dispelled. Flame and the offspring of flame shall be the weasel that ravages hope. Fate shall favour true love only if the flames' ardour is quenched.
.
Harry, using a pensieve and a video camera, recorded a range of images of his encounters while he was at school. A cutting-edge computer and the latest in video-editing software allowed him to put together a rough and ready video sequence to use as background for the recurring, prophetic dream that Sibyl Trelawney would be having on occasion for years to come. The process was to take several months, the technology being so incredibly slow. Harry didn't wonder that the push for faster technology was so high. Happily, he didn't need large, high quality images for what he wanted.
When it was complete Harry watched the final cut with his voice-over, and extracted the memory into a pensieve. He then watched the memory of the video, over and over until it was burned into his mind.
Blackness. The sounds of battle. Voice over with slight chorus effect, echo-reverb.
Entire sequence in slightly soft focus, grade to black at edges of frame.
Fade to: An image of Voldemort rising from the burst cauldron in the graveyard, background of flames.
"The return of the Dark Lord shall be heralded in the eleventh year of his conqueror."
Fade to: The dark lord on Quirrell's head, then going to his death.
"He who hath defeated once shall rise triumphant thrice more."
[Pause to end of sequence]
Fade to: Tom Riddle and the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets;
Harry killing the basilisk and then Tom Riddle (hiding the method)
Fade to: The defeat of Voldemort in front of Hogwarts' main doors.
Fade to: Black.
Fade to: Flames, then to:
Harry & Hermione together; Ron and Ginny looking on enviously, Molly behind, the same.
"Those of the light should not trust the children of the flame toward the warrior of the light nor with his consort."
Fade to: Harry and Hermione gazing into each others' eyes, golden halos both heads (this took a lot of editing.)
"Emerald shall look unto amber and amber unto emerald that the shadow shall be dispelled."
Cut to: Black.
Fade to: The Weasleys watching, smiling, as the Army of Light falls one by one.
(Image sequence, fast fade between clips, about 0.5 second per death)
"Flame and the offspring of flame shall be the weasel that ravages hope."
Fade to: Sequence of Weasley's tipping Amortentia into drinks given to Harry and Hermione.
"Fate shall favour true love only if the flames' ardour is quenched."
[Pause to end of sequence]
Flicker to: Hermione's death, Harry's death (Harry's face spliced onto Neville's body)
[Flickering of lightning to cover shaky editing]
Fade to: Black
.
That night, Sibyl Trelawney had her second prophesy come to her in a dream. She woke shaking and afraid. She rushed to inform Albus Dumbledore who was rather dumbfounded, if a trifle pleased.
Albus's spirit, acting as Harry's eye reported that Dumbledore had been shaken to his roots at the prophesy, actually laughing about his former self's attitude.
At the same time, Harry put together a series of gentle prophesies for young Harry and Hermione, gently steering them away from Ginny and Ron, towards Neville and Luna and definitely toward Gryffindor.
Harry also decided to try to save Malfoy from taking the plunge into darkness by feeding him a steady series of nightmares about the dark lord, the dark mark, Slytherin and his own death. To counter this he was given images of comradeship in Ravenclaw, friendships and hope with the light.
Only time would tell if Malfoy was salvageable even now.
.
To Luna, he gave positive images of Harry, Hermione, Neville and Gryffindor. To Ron and Ginny, he gave Gryffindor nightmares and Hufflepuff happiness.
To Molly Weasley, he gave nightmares of the Dementors' kiss and Amortentia. He knew that he was steering a tight course between her shaking the dreams off and ending up in a mental ward at St. Mungo's. He knew, because they were his own nightmares, seeing her kissed by the Dementors at the Battle of Potter's End.
To Percy Weasley, Harry gave some special treatment, showing him what an insufferable fool he would become, and the benefits of tempering his ambition with consideration. Harry remembered all too well the day Percy took the Dark Mark because he was too ambitious to bring his moral compass to bear.
Finally, he gave fear-inducing dreams to the Dursleys, making them fearful of harming their young charge. He rewarded them, though, with happier images of Harry learning quietly in his room and not causing magical havoc in public. Dudley, in particular, found himself fearful of what his cousin could do to him, and incidentally what he was doing to himself by his constant eating.
Soon enough, Dudley's weight would begin to drop toward him being merely fat, rather than the shapeless whale he had become. He would also find that the competition to keep up with Harry would be enough to encourage him to study and learn, and eventually to excel.
Albus continued to report back to harry the visible effects of the dreams that he was delivering, telling Harry that the changes, though slight, were bringing about the best of results. Albus, because he was not firmly fixed in the present was able to report on the changes as they broadly appeared in the future.
.
As the academic year reached the Spring Holiday, Easter, Harry was concerned that his continued physical presence might not be possible for his two most important charges. To counteract this, he obtained a range of texts and materials, and arranged for them to be delivered at intervals over the next few years.
At Easter, however, he arranged for the Grangers and the Dursleys (including young Harry) to attend an Easter celebration at Greater Whinging Catholic Church. Of course, this meant that Harry and Hermione met so much earlier than in his past life. He took the trouble to introduce them, and he could see the immediate chemistry between them, and wondered how he had missed it in his own life. Of course, they recognised each other from their dreams.
He took the two aside and told them that they were both magical, and started them on the study of Occlumancy and Legilimancy.
"Once you start school in the magical world, you will need all of the mental resources that you can gather.
"Occlumancy doesn't only protect your mind from intrusion by others, the process of shielding your thoughts also helps you organise your thought processes, your memories and your mind. You will learn more easily.
"Legilimancy, the reading of minds, is a valuable skill. You must promise that you won't go delving in other peoples' minds without good reason, though."
They both promised, and Harry knew that they would keep their word.
.
"Excuse me, Abée?"
"Yes, Dudley, isn't it?"
The boy flushed that Harry had remembered his name.
"I just wanted to thank you again for your gift. It really has changed my life. Harry and I are both doing fitness training and karate … and, well, he may still be a bit freaky, well, he's a good mate and he's helping me at school and all.
"Well, it's just that … umm …"
"You want me to do something for you?"
The boy nodded uncertainly.
"Um, yes, if you would … it's just that, well, I don't want to go to Smeltings like my dad."
"And have you told him?"
"Um … yes. He went ballistic."
.
"Mr Dursley? You are a Smeltings alumnus, are you not?"
"Well, yes, what business …? … oh."
"Well, it's just that I have heard things about the school, and I was sure you'd otherwise be keen for Dudley to follow in your footsteps."
"Heard things?"
Harry nodded. "Nothing terrible or … concrete. Just suggestions. Falling standards … the old school tie no longer being sufficient. I'm sure you know the kind of thing. And of course, the trend toward, not to put too fine a point, the demand for better qualifications in the employment market.
"I may be able to put in a word at Woking Collegium Grammaticae for him. Harry, of course, has arrangements already made for him."
"Oh, enough said, that would be excellent, I hadn't even hoped to get Dudley in there. I hate to say it but you have done us a lot of good. Dudley no longer hangs around with those two goons of his. He and Harry are more like brothers, and Harry's not doing anything to, um, freak anyone out anymore. In fact you'd hardly know he was … different. He even helps Dudley with his homework. Never sure who gets the better marks now, they're both top of the class in most things."
"What aren't they excelling at then?"
"Music and art. Not terribly useful stuff, but it would be nice if Dudley would get everything squared away. I know Harry's not going to care much about either."
"Well, try them both on something like a calligraphy course or a technical drawing course. See if they can do that kind of art stuff. And I can see Dudley playing something expressive like flute, or try him with a violin or even twelve-stringed guitar."
The walrus flapped his jaw a bit as though chewing the ideas.
"… Really? Something expressive? Are you suggesting that my boy's a bit … you know?"
"Not at all. I just think he would get on with making those instruments talk. I mean, think of James Galway with his flute or Zamphir with his Pan-Pipes, or even Menuen and his violin."
Harry saw the dollar-signs appear in Dursley's eyes and knew that Walrus Man was sold on the idea.
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Chapter 6: The Summer of '86
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The Abée concluded his year teaching Defence at Hogwarts with the highest pass marks in fifty years. Not one of his OWLs or NEWTs students achieved less than an A, and many were rewarded with E and O grades. The other years' classes were just as successful, all giving a good showing on their internal examinations.
Harry received a letter from the Vatican informing him that a second year at the school would be acceptable if it were offered.
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In celebration of this, Harry supplied his two young charges with an additional kit, this time being introductory alchemy, a subject not taught at Hogwarts in 400 years.
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He spent much of the summer, though, in his own studies. He first had a small task to perform within Hogwarts. Entering the Chamber of Secrets whilst carrying a cage of roosters, he called forth the basilisk and set the roosters loose. When they began to crow, the basilisk was slain. Cleanly, safely and, more than anything, without having to raise Tom Riddle.
He set to, harvesting the Basilisk for potions ingredients and for other materials. Nothing was left, not even the sloughs in the outer chamber.
Entering the tunnels behind the statue, Harry plundered Salazar Slytherin's private study, taking library, notebooks and anything that may be of use. He also found a number of notebooks belonging to Tom Riddle himself as well as to Horace Slughorn, not least of which was a comprehensive treatise of immortality magic. The touchstone that would allow Harry to destroy Voldemort turned out to be notes on an extension to the protean charm, the one that Riddle had based his Dark Mark upon.
Harry also entered the Room of Hidden Things, taking amongst other items an advanced potions book (courtesy of The Half-Blood Prince), Ravenclaw's diadem and the vanishing cabinet.
Harry was, in fact, well on the way to discovering a way of neutralising Tom Riddle's link to his Death Eaters.
Harry cast text-copying charms on the books that he had found in Slytherin's chamber, and sent the shrunken copies to the Tellic Library. He also sent his end of year reports to Frére Bernard who, Harry had been told, was aware of his cross-time activities.
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Harry took the time to visit Luna in her dreams. He didn't hide his identity, knowing that the strange little girl he had met at school would take the direct approach rather better than prophetic dreams.
"Hi … who're you?"
"Abée Johannus Kethrington, which will mean nothing to you right now. I teach defence at Hogwarts."
"Oh. Why are you visiting me then?"
"To warn you that you need to start studying. You will need occlumancy and possibly legilimancy. I also want you to learn the proper wand movements for casting spells."
"But I'm not allowed a wand yet … ?"
Harry smiled. "Then use a quill or a straight twig … or make your own wand."
He saw her smile.
"Oh, and look after your mother. You might like to help her with her research and with her potions brewing. Learn as much as you can from her, Luna."
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He visited Neville with dreams about wands and success. He knew that Neville would need a proper wand, and he had the wand Neville would need.
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During August, Harry arranged for his two protégés to travel up to Haughsdale, in the care of Hermione's parents, so that they could spend a fortnight undergoing some intensive tutoring and get to know each other.
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"Abée Johannus! Wow, what a beautiful house!"
"Hello Hermione, yes it is. Come on in all four of you and we'll get you settled in."
During the fortnight Harry tested the pair's progress in occlumancy, allowed them to practice their legilimancy with each other and gave them their first flying lessons.
Happily, Hermione was not yet old enough to have developed her sense of fear at the thought of flying, and Harry hoped that she would be confident enough by the time her Hogwarts letter arrived to never gain that fear.
Given his budget, he gifted them each a broom, a multi-compartment trunk in which to keep all of their magical study materials, and further texts and materials.
In the woods above the village, he taught them defensive and offensive spells, duelling and stealth charms. In his manse, he taught them potions, alchemy, history and transfiguration. Once more, he found himself wondering why magical education only began at eleven, since these two seemed to have developed more than enough control over their magic to be eminently teachable.
The assignments they were given to take home included arithmancy, runes and esoteric studies, this last including ritual magic and religious structure.
"Abée? What is religious structure?"
Young Harry was nodding.
"It's a bad title, but it describes the way religious belief works in the human psyche. Most of wizard-kind are fairly free of structured religious beliefs, but they replace organised religion with a kind of nebulous spirituality. The aspects of that spirituality have common points with the more organised religious beliefs."
The two faces seemed to beg for more.
"Common aspects such as good and evil, a higher power which is both wise and ancient, codes of morality regarding such things as marriage, family, honesty in dealings with others and so on. Even the concept of sin exists outside of religion. Finally, there is belief in an afterlife of some sort."
The two children were nodding in agreement and understanding.
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Harry was frazzled to a crisp by the time his two charges had headed home on the train. Although he had been willing to portkey them home, the Grangers had insisted that the train journey would allow them to enjoy the Scottish scenery in comfort.
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A trip south brought both Neville and Luna visits from the Abée.
"Abée Kethrington?"
"Hello Luna. I have a gift for you."
He handed Luna a decorated box containing some magical primers and a wand. On the lid were the initials LXL, for Luna Xanthoria Lovegood.
She took out the wand and filled the room with pink glitter and orchid scents.
"You're not supposed to use it, but keep it close to you, it will help. It doesn't have a trace on it, so a few small spells will go unnoticed. Keep your books and your wand in the box and no one will be able to steal them. Now, I need to speak with your mother."
Maia Lovegood entered the room.
"Did I hear you right? Luna has a wand?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, there are a few gifted children I have to see, to get them started a little early on their magical development. The Vatican believes that the Dark Lord will rise again, and it its my place to fore warn and to fore arm those who are prophesied to have pivotal places in the forthcoming war."
"And my Luna …?"
"Yes, Luna will be most important to the Chosen One. As a seeress, her visions will be vital to the light. And you, Maia Lovegood, I have a gift for you too. Wear it always. It is a permanent emergency portkey that will bring you immediately to a safe house in Scotland. Just touch it with your finger and want to depart. It is rather a special one …"
"Special?"
"Yes, it is designed for research witches and wizards. It will not bring your clothes or anything in contact with you to the Manse, but the arrival point is actually a small bathroom and dressing room with a range of muggle and magical clothing. Believe me, this could save your life."
"Abée, you know something? A prophesy?"
Harry nodded. "In two or three years time. When Luna is eight."
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His next visit was Longbottom Manor. Augusta Longbottom was as strident and intolerant a woman as Harry remembered.
"Madam Longbottom, I am here about your grandson."
"What kind of wizard are you? Those hardly resemble wizarding robes?"
Harry smiled. "I'm a member of an elite auror force based in Rome. I knew Frank and Alice somewhat. We met occasionally in the line of duty."
She looked at Harry, seeing the scars and seeing a battle-hardened auror, she relented somewhat.
"Very well, now why?"
"My masters are aware of a prophesy, a prophesy that states that the Dark Lord will return. That same prophesy states that Neville will play a pivotal role in the conflict. It is my task to ensure that those who need to be prepared start their training early. Nothing too strenuous or illegal, merely awareness … and a proximity to a properly matched wand."
"But Neville's almost a squib. We thought he was until recently."
"Let's see shall we? Neville, take this wand …"
He did and was rewarded by a fountain of strong blue sparks and the rich, peaty smell of deep forests. Augusta Longbottom let out a squeak.
Inside the carven box marked NTL, Neville Terrence Longbottom, Neville found some magical primers and texts on herbology.
Keep your wand and your books in the box, and no one will be able to steal them. Practising a few small spells will likely go unnoticed by the Ministry of Magic, since there's no trace on that wand.
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The year flew past with the Abée continuing to reinforce the dream messages sent to the various recipients, with defence classes at Hogwarts, visits to his charges and, not the least, with his episcopal duties. By the summer, he was ready to teach the four youngsters for a full month.
"Abée?"
"Yes, Luna?"
"Why are we four being taught magic ahead of time?"
Kethrington smiled. "There is a prophesy that states, quite simply, that Lord Voldemort is not, in fact, dead. The Vatican is convinced that he is … dormant. We are agreed that he will return, that you four will be pivotal in his defeat, and that should he survive then The Final Trump shall sound, and The Final Battle will be fought.
"In short, without preparation, Armageddon will come to pass in our lifetimes and Darkness will fall upon all of creation. Or, at least, our little corner of creation."
There was a noise from Hermione's throat.
"And, even if you disbelieve it, Hermione, what is the worst consequence of you four learning your magic early?"
She giggled, a sound the older Harry had rarely heard from his friend.
"I guess, the worst would be that we get to be further advanced than any of the other students?"
"Exactly. And so, no matter what, we come out ahead of the game, so to speak. I, for one, would have appreciated the extra tuition at your age. I remember how difficult it was for me to catch up, having been muggle raised, after all."
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The following year, Harry, or rather, the Abée Kethrington was not invited to continue teaching defence at Hogwarts, although he did continue to live at Old Bishop's Mews, and he did continue to provide tuition and support to his four students.
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