The beginning was always the same.
Pain.
Sometimes, I think that Pain and I have a kind of symbiotic relationship. After all, Harry Potter and Pain are two sides of the same coin. I was born, and my mother endured the pains of childbirth. No scratch that- even before I was born, I was a royal pain in the arse for the Dark Lord himself- after all, which dark wizard wants to believe that a baby is going to be the herald of his doom?
Not me.
No, you read that right, all the way since the start. However, perhaps, I should improvise. Scratch the wizard and substitute it with 'Lord'. After all, Voldy got himself banged up when I was a mere toddler after all. Now please don't even mention the 'power of love', you do not want to be in my bad books. Trust me, I know- I have ravaged and obliterated, much more than Voldy and his merry men could ever hope of doing.
You think I should not joke with his name? Big deal! I tried saying Voldemort—but too many people flinching, and so I decided to improvise—hence Voldy. Not good enough? Your problem. However, I digress. Back to my initial line, yes. Pain.
I was a year old. I banged up a dark lord, though it took me my parents' deaths to do the bang-up job. I guess it was Fate's way of making me taste the forbidden fruit of pain- I am good at causing pain, so it decided to make me feel pain. Why else would someone like me be shoved down the lane of Number 4, Privet Drive? You would think that would be enough, wouldn't you? But no, old man Dumbledore just had to bind my core and send me to the hellhole. Sometimes I wonder how Dumbledore never thought of unbinding my core. Perhaps he thought that the bindings had fallen apart on their own.
Only if that were to be true.
A decade of abuse at the Dursley's- a decade of me lacking my magic and by extension—my self-worth and my heritage—all because one paranoid bastard decided to act God and decide my life. Bloody arsehole! Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore's pathological need to keep secrets was some sort of mental disorder. Then the old coot has the balls to go and call Mad-eye Moody paranoid? Honestly?
Where was I? Oh yes, the pain. So, Hagrid picks me up, shoves the truth down on little old me that I am a wizard (NOT a freak) and that I have magic. Oh, and that there was a mysterious big bad wizard who had tried to kill me, but had to settle for killing my parents. Why? Because I banged him up for good before he could kill me. Therefore, I am the Boy-who-lived (to be an orphan).
First year, I got half-killed by the troll and then almost completely dead by the hands of the DADA teacher. You would think that with all the powers and intelligence that the old man has hidden up in the depths of silvery beard, he would know Quirrell would go down to any lengths to get the stone. Apparently, common sense isn't a big part of wizard magic (An image of Cornelius Fudge appears in front of my eyes as I speak) and hence, people here, are morons. Absolute morons. Full stop.
Second year. Basilisk.
Third Year. Dementors.
Fourth year. Dragons, mermen, and spiders. Not to mention Hagrid's special creations... Then a reincarnating dark lord to boot, added with the death of a seventh year, albeit a HUFFLEPUFF. Wands out, you reckon? Honestly?
What happened after that is an entanglement of mistakes, hormones, blood and gore. Friends betraying each other, truth dawning out of arseholes at moments and of course, the tantalizing romance... with the exception of everything except the last- it was great.
Then, the blood and gore began. The Ministry fell head first, the buildings burned. Friends turned into enemies as the world dissolved into a wizarding war. At least it was a wizarding war until Voldy had the unfortunate reckoning to perform a bloody ritual.
A ritual that summoned demons.
I have often wondered if Voldy was a bit addled from the beginning. As is always, my gut instinct was correct. The unfortunate accidental by-product of Merope Gaunt, one that had grown up with daddy issues- had let Hell into the world.
Was it any surprise that Voldemort was torn apart by two of the very demons he had summoned onto the Earth?
Now, now. Don't be surprised. When your number one enemy is out there killing off powerful demons, and you as the one who summoned them, decide to sit on the sidelines and do nothing- it is normally a bad thing to do. So yes, demons tore Lord Voldemort apart, while I took great relish in slicing of his great snake- no sexual innuendos here. Plain and simple.
It had taken eight years for the magical world to get some amount of stability to it. And then one high-strung girl had to just go and throw everything into the gutter.
Hermione Granger and her bloody affability with the word. 'Barbaric'.
You might ask why Harry Potter could not do anything to avoid it. Yes, of course I could. Nevertheless, I didn't. Why you ask? Simple. Because I was cast out. Cast out because of fear and greed.
They cast me out. They destroyed my family and everything they held dear.
In return, I gave them the dark lord that caused their complete annihilation.
Harry let out a veritable scream of agony as his magical core gave way- the fusion of the magical core already present in his body mixed with his innate magical power, one that had been kept bound to prevent the horcrux from getting more powerful- the result could be described in one single word.
Overwhelming.
Sounds complicated? Let me help you. Consider this. Your magical power is bound, making you almost a squib. If you want a comparison, here is one. You are Neville Longbottom in his first year. Happy now? Well back to the point. Therefore, your magical self is devoid of power, but your effing relatives torment you, making you more and more susceptible to manifesting accidental magic. Do you know what happens? Your magical self, now devoid of its power, develops another core full of energy, enough to get things running.
Congratulations, you are a wizard, and thus, a welcome member to the madhouse they call Wizarding Britain.
Now after three tumultuous years and near-death experiences, Harry's new core had become the default core for his magical prowess. That was until this very night. The loss of the horcrux broke down the bindings, leaving the original core completely free for his use.
Two extremely powerful magical cores. One thirteen-year-old boy. Add to that the soul of a time-traveler.
As was described earlier, it was overwhelming.
Eldritch energies expanded in and out of his core, sending aftershocks and backlashes out of his magical core. The magical flow points- the branches that helped a wizard draw magic from his core- expanded in quantity and quality-he could now sense magic flowing throughout him, while his expanded golden core stood pulsing, almost begging to be used. It was a feeling he had not felt for a long time. Almost fifteen years in fact.
A huge foray of magical power expanded out of him, sending shockwaves throughout the room. However, the Room of requirement was built on the intersection of three magical ley-lines, making it an excellent absorber and conductor of magical energy. Thus, a burst, which could have levelled almost an alleyway, was contained in between the walls of the Room and nobody, even the great Albus Dumbledore knew anything about it. The excess energy seeped out and powered the ancient wards of the castle, just as Salazar Slytherin had designed them to be.
The excess energies flowed into his limbs, filling them out, clearing them of the last vestiges of malnutrition and illnesses, gaining him new strength in his bones, incrementing his height too by a few inches. When he opened his eyes, the now-glowing emerald eyes of a new and improved Harry Potter shone brightly in the empty room.
I am Back!
Albus Dumbledore paced his office silently, his mind engulfed in distress. Things had taken a surprise turn. According to Snape, Lupin had transformed and the werewolf had attacked them, and could have killed them. Then, Sirius Black of all people had come to their help, and had bodily roughhoused with the wolf, making it run after him. Harry Potter had also run down into the forest along with Hermione Granger, trying to save Sirius Black of all people.
I wonder if we had made a giant mistake all those years ago.
There had been some changes in the weather, as Dementors had given in chase after Sirius Black. Dumbledore had seen them flock into the forest—the unnatural cold and darkness seeping into the forest along with them. He was about to join in and try to help, only to be surprised as a burst of bright light seemed to erupt somewhere in the center of the forest. He had apparated to the point only to see a most amazing sight.
A corporeal Patronus.
A thestral of all things.
And the one who wield it with such precision- Harry Potter.
For one moment, Dumbledore was pensive about how the young boy could master such a complex spell, but then he digressed. After all, the boy was quite powerful even as a baby. Perhaps his magic had become tuned with his core. The bindings must have broken off completely by now. Satisfied that the situation was under control, he apparated away.
How wrong he was!
He had barely made it to his office when screeches of the Dementors arising from the forest captured his attention. Quickly making it to the window, he could not believe his eyes.
Someone had cast Fiendfyre in the forbidden forest.
No scratch that, someone was expertly wielding Fiendfyre in the forbidden forest.
There was only one person out there who had such masterful command over the cursed fire.
Lord Voldemort.
Could it be possible that exposure to Dementors released the evil of the horcrux inside the boy? If that would be the case, then perhaps the entire situation had changed. He would have to keep a strict watch on Harry Potter. Or, if his suspicions were correct, Lord Voldemort.
Harry stretched his new and improved body and observed himself in an ornate mirror manifested inside the Room of Requirement. It was a welcome change compared to the injured left leg he had carried for years before all that had happened. The dark spell Voldemort had cast at him had completely obliterated his bone marrow and thus, his chance at getting his leg grow back nicely. Hence, the limp. It had even affected his animagus forms. Although as an eagle, it did not hinder his flight in the least, but it did affect his landing. Now though, that problem was over for good. Harry smiled at the memory of his first flight as the golden eagle, swerving and diving regally much to the consternation of his girlfriend.
Now, I only need to get her back.
Shaking himself off his reveries, he observed his body, his muscles flexing at his will. He had become a couple of inches taller, and his chest had expanded a bit. His body was now more muscular, looking a bit lean now.
At least that is better than being the scrawny little thing I was.
His clothes were a mess, what with them being torn at places. With a sigh, he whipped his wand over his clothes, and transfigured them into brand new robes. The transfiguration wasn't permanent, but it would do for now. At least before, he could get himself a couple more pairs from Diagon Alley.
That reminds me. I need to visit Gringotts. Perhaps this summer then.
Casting a tempus, he realized that by this time, Hermione (Granger, he mused) would be in the hospital wing. Then again, he had changed the timeline by altering the events. For one, he would not let Sirius live off as a fugitive, only to die in the battle at the Ministry. His godfather did not deserve that. That reminded him...
"Dobby?"
The hyperactive elf popped in instantly. "Yes, Master Harry Potter sir?"
Harry cringed. Dobby always had a penchant for worshipping him. "Call me Harry, Dobby." The elf seemed to have some issues calling him by his name, so he decided to change tracks. "If that is a problem, you may call me Master Potter. Is that okay with you?"
Dobby weighed the suggestion for an instant, before bobbing his head up and down. "Yes, Master Potter."
"Has Sirius woken up?"
Dobby nodded in reply. "He has been complaining about having to stay at the manor. But I have not let him leave as Master wanted."
Harry sighed. A long-suffering sigh. "Hold on, Dobby." Wishing for a piece of parchment and a quill, Harry sat down to write a letter. The materials materialized immediately, and Harry started to write down the letter to his godfather.
Sirius,
Despite being my godfather, you have let me stay with those filthy mundane Dursleys for thirteen years. All because you decided to choose going after Pettigrew instead of taking care of me. Now that you are a fugitive, it is in my best interests if you stay at Potter manor and get well first. Then, we need to work on getting you freed legally. If you think you can do that, please do not resist and let Dobby take care of you and nurse you to health.
Your godson,
Prongslet.
Handing the parchment to his elf, he spoke. "Give this to Sirius. He will not be grumpy anymore." The elf took it without question and popped away. Harry mused. The letter was harsh, but it would have the desired effect.
Sometimes it is necessary to be cruel to be kind.
The Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey glanced over the information about Hermione Granger's vitals, as she lay unconscious on the hospital bed. The day had been a veritable mess of situations and as always, such events tended to be centered on Harry Potter and his friends. The thirteen-year-old had suffered over-exposure to Dementors and was suffering from the effects at the moment. Physically she was fine but mentally, her mind was a mess. An exposure to Dementors would do that to you. Surprisingly, Miss Granger had been found lying in the center of the Quidditch field, away from the forest where a fire had burnt almost a hundred yards in the middle of the forest.
For the record, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. No one knew where he was. Snape had stated that he had run into the forest after Black, but no one had known what happened to him after that. Dumbledore had gone after him but to no effect. Pomfrey could not help but feel worried.
"Madam Pomfrey?"
Poppy swerved to her right instantly, shocked to hear the familiar voice. "Potter?"
"The very same." There it was. That same lop-sided grin, that untamable mass of unruly hair, and those same bright green eyes. Poppy felt her breath leave her, just recognizing that she had held it all the while. "Where were you?"
"I was in the castle, Madam Pomfrey. I had passed out in an unused classroom."
Poppy narrowed her eyes. "I did not see you enter. I was in the grounds."
Harry smirked. "I have my ways, Madam Pomfrey." Moving towards the school matron, he stood in front of her. "Could you get a scan of my vitals? My magic feels... different."
"Does it?" Poppy pursed her lips. "Let me see." She waved her wand over his body and incanted something obscure, as Harry felt his chest glow and some strange runic circles and symbols appeared all in front of him. Poppy's eyes widened, as she understood the inferences.
The problem was... the inferences were downright impossible.
"This does not make sense. Your core, it seems to have expanded by at least twice. Initially your magical index was 412, which was quite good for your age, but now..." she trailed, her mind refusing to believe what she was seeing.
"How much is it now, Madam Pomfrey?" Harry urged.
"1052."
Harry smirked inwardly. Putting on an inquisitive look, he urged at her to explain. Poppy sighed and continued. "Normally a student has an index ranging from 250 to 500, the average seventh year being somewhere around 380 to 400. It goes without saying that even as a fourth year, you are quite powerful than most students. After a wizard reaches his maturity, a period which normally ranges from 18 to 21, his magical core increases by as much as thirty percent, and thus on an average, the usual wizard is usually in the 400 to 550 range. Now Albus Dumbledore, he has an overly powerful index of 634. But this... this is unfathomable." She mused loudly.
"Madam Pomfrey, I hope this information will be kept discreet and confidential?" Harry urged. Poppy hesitated for a moment before nodding. She knew that she was legally responsible to report it to the Headmaster if he should personally ask for it, but there was something about the boy; something made her decide to keep it private. The boy did not need any more unwanted attention than he already received.
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. How is... Hermione?" A distressed look flashed on his face.
"She is better. I have given her some dreamless sleep. She should be fit in a few hours. Your friend Weasley though, must stay for the day. His leg bones have been broken and suffered some amount of splintering." Harry winced at the news, though it hardly made any matter to him personally.
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I should leave now."
"Mr. Potter, I need to have a couple of words with you." The orotund voice of the Headmaster resounded behind him. Smirking inwardly, he turned back, his face expressionless.
"Yes professor?"
"Care to join me in my office? I am afraid there are things we need to discuss."
"Sure." Harry shrugged, unsure of where this was going.
Dumbledore nodded and darted off towards his office, swiftly followed by Harry. Moving across the corridor, they crossed the gargoyle and climbed the stairs towards the circular office upstairs. The door opened on its own as the venerable Headmaster took his seat behind his desk, gesturing Harry to sit in front of the desk.
"There are certain things I need to... discuss with you, Harry."
Harry nodded, waiting for him to continue. Dumbledore sighed and began his questioning. "What happened with Sirius Black in the forest, Harry?"
Harry wondered what he should say and what he should improvise. This was Dumbledore, and his uncanny ability to make out hidden truths out of simple sentences.
"Perhaps you should just say what is in your mind, instead of framing your words together. I have often seen that it helps to speak our mind better, my boy." Dumbledore continued in a soft yet firm voice.
Harry looked uncertain. "Sirius Black is innocent. He is my godfather, and he has escaped out of prison to save me."
"A likely story. Harry, I am afraid but he has lied to you. He was your parents' secret keeper and-"
"Their secret keeper was Peter Pettigrew!" Harry yelled out in frustration. Dumbledore looked shocked at such a reaction. "Please explain."
Harry sighed. This was going to take some time.
Sirius Black was frustrated. Part of it was because he was a horrible godfather. Pat of it was because he had failed to catch the rat. Part of it was because he had failed and was still a fugitive. Finally, part of it was that he was now under house arrest placed on him by a stupid elf.
He had tried to break through the wards, but without success. Who knew house elves packed such power? Yes, he was emaciated and weak, but for Merlin's sake, he was an accomplished ward-breaker. In fact, even James would refer to him when faced by an obscure ward.
Now, he was unable to break through wards placed by a house-elf. It was frustrating.
"Let me go!" he yelled out in frustration.
Almost in answer to his yells, a pop appeared almost next to him. Sirius turned back and found the blasted elf standing behind him. "Let me go, elf!" he hissed angrily.
Dobby did not reply. He simply held out his tiny frail-looking hand towards him. There was a parchment in it.
A letter?
"Is that... for me?"
Dobby bobbed. "Master Potter sends you his regards."
Sirius did not need any further invitation. Nearly snatching the parchment, he hungrily read it. It was from his godson after all. Dobby watched surprised, never knowing that a wizard's face could change so many colors so frequently. His face shifted from happiness to anger to confusion to sadness to resignation. Finally, he gave out a long-drawn sigh.
"Harry is right. I need to get better first. I am sorry. I will not complain any longer."
Dobby gaped. Just as his Master had told him, the wizard had stopped complaining. All that with just one letter. Harry Potter was indeed the greatest wizard in the world.
"So, let me get the facts straight. Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters and duped Black. Not just that, he was hiding as the Weasleys' rat all these years. It sounds very fanciful, you have to agree."
Harry was almost getting impatient. Almost. "Will a pensieve memory suffice, Headmaster?"
Albus straightened. "How would you know about a pensieve, Harry?"
"I read." He drawled the words out.
"Very well. A suppose you also know how to draw out a memory?"
A single nod.
"I am fascinated, Harry. On the one hand, you show several forms of precociousness. On the other hand, your exam reports are anything but good. It is disturbing to be very honest."
An emotion flickered across Harry's face. Had Dumbledore observed it properly, he would have deduced it as one primal emotion.
Hatred.
"You would know that when you are placed in a hellhole for a decade. You would know that when you have lived for ten years knowing that you are nothing but a freak, when you have your own blood torture you and keep you unfed for weeks, when every achievement means a week of no food- then, and only then you will understand why I did what I did."
For the first time, Albus Dumbledore was surprised. He had initially thought that Riddle's soul had taken over Harry, and knowing Riddle as he did- the best way to get the truth out of him was to infuriate him. However, the response he was getting- it was unfathomable.
"I don't understand-" he tried.
"Oh, shut it Dumbledore!" Harry snarled. "You know very well what you did. You kept me ignorant of my heritage. You made me suffer at the hands of the Dursleys' for a decade. You bound my magical core. In addition, despite my requests-"Harry laughed mirthlessly-"What request? I begged you to not send me there, but you put on that damned smile and bid me away for another stay at the Dursley prison." Harry had not noticed it, but his magic, being unstable was lashing out alongside his rage. An enormous golden aura flickered around him, making him look even more menacing as he did.
A golden aura? But that's-
Dumbledore came to a decision.
"Harry. For reasons, I cannot reveal to you yet, I must send you back to the Dursleys for this year. I assure you I will talk to them and-"
A cold demeanor suddenly flickered over Harry's angry face. The fiery rage had just turned cold, colder than a blizzard. Righteous anger had just turned into vengeance.
"So be it."
Dumbledore waited for an outburst, but it never came.
"Can I prevail upon you to contact the DMLE and arrange a trial for Sirius Black? Though I am not sure where he is, at the moment- I am sure he will return as soon as he gets the news."
Dumbledore frowned. "I am sure Cornelius would be a much better-"
"I knew it. You do not listen. Good-bye, Dumbledore. Get yourself another pawn." Harry stood up, and walked towards the door.
"I did not give you my permission to leave, Harry Potter. You will not leave unless I ask you to."
Harry turned, smirking at Dumbledore's stern answer. Inwardly, he was glaring with rage. It was a testament to his Occlumency that he could maintain such a perfect poker face. "Never knew you were a pedophile, Dumbledore. Forcing children to stay within your office without their consent, then again, what is there to be expected of you?"
Dumbledore whipped out his wand. For a moment, Harry was distracted. Why wouldn't he? After all, he was the sole master of this particular wand for over two decades.
"I have my suspicions that you are hiding something important from me. This is for your own good." He whipped the ancient wand towards the emerald-eyed wizard and whispered.
"Legilimens!"
Pain.
Agonizing pain.
Albus Dumbledore had never felt such pain in decades. No scratch that, he had never felt so much pain since he was born. For a moment, he wondered if this was what Voldemort had felt like. The entire power of the Legilimency foray he had hurled towards the thirteen-year-old, magnified multiple times by the elder wand- the entire power had been reverted to his own self. His shields breaking and shattering—he trying to hold the attack back but failing dismally- the elder wand heating up and using his own magic against him-it was unbearable.
"What—is-hap-penning?" he cried out in agony.
Harry smirked. He had almost seen it coming. Voldemort had tried to kill him with the killing curse using the elder wand-and the curse had repulsed back at him-it was sheer dumb luck that a demon was there to absorb the effect of the spell. Now, Albus Dumbledore, notorious for his use of passive Legilimency- was now getting a taste of his own medicine.
The old man was writhing with pain—fallen on the floor with his old wizened hands supporting himself. Harry smirked. He stalked towards him. "I know you think that I am not Harry Potter. I know you think that the horcrux of Lord Voldemort has possessed me. But you know what? You are both right and wrong. I am not the Harry Potter you know. I am the dark lord Harry Potter, the most feared sorcerer of magical history." He hissed.
"How-what?" Dumbledore was panting- his mind still agonized by the continuous Legilimency attack.
"I am magical Britain's reckoning, Dumbledore! And you will not be an obstacle in my path." He hissed calmly in the old man's ear. The coldness of his voice making his threat even more frightening.
"I will stop—you!" Dumbledore panted, his senses now almost losing the battle.
"You will try, and you will fail." Harry held out his palm, and the legendary elder wand flew out from Dumbledore into his own hand. The core of the wand seemed to dance in tune with his innate magic—wand and master rejoining in union at last.
"How I have missed this..." Harry mused. "But then again, you have taken good care of my wand all this time. So, I think you deserve some sort of...consolation prize." A prank rose in his mind, and he summoned the old man's old wand. The black Birchwood and dragon heartstring wand rose into his palm. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated as runic circles manifested above and below the wand. A few incantations later, he opened his eyes.
The transmutation is complete.
Wavering in the air an inch above his palm was Dumbledore's original wand, now permanently disguised as the elder wand.
"Now, there is just one more thing left to do." A frightening smirk playing on his lips, he placed the tip of the elder wand on Dumbledore's temple.
"Obliviate!"
### And that, brings an end to the chapter. Hopefully a lot of questions will be answered. Hopefully, it will open another whole new vault of questions. Hopefully I will get lots and lots of reviews. Hopefully now that my wonderful beta-reader is back, my grammar will be much more correct. Hopefully you will enjoy this action-packed adventure.
