Casting a Long Shadow

A young wizard, who felt like the entire world was resting on his shoulders and everyone had turned against him, prayed that someone would help him deal with the mess that was his life and for once someone answered…

Harry blinked and held his head as a headache from hell slammed into his frontal lobes doing eighty eight miles an hour. Suddenly he… remembered and he could hear his peanut gallery already complaining about the local accommodations.

Sighing, he immediately started meditating to try and reach his inner sphere so he could so some redecorating when he found himself instantly dropping into a chaotic sea of thoughts and emotions.

With barely a thought he resurfaced and rose to stand on top of the water, forcing a ten foot circle around himself to become still. Looking around he couldn't help but shake his head, this place was a mess! He silently thanked his fortune for having dressed as a French fighter pilot during a certain Halloween so many years ago.

It was nearly dawn by the time he finished organizing his mind the way he wanted it and taken stock of his resources.

Holding up a palm he said, "Light," but nothing happened. "Lumos," he tried and was rewarded with a ball of light hovering over his palm. "Nox," he incanted, dispelling the light. "It's always Latin," he muttered deciding to get up. He had work to do and he wouldn't accomplish it by lying in bed.

It was rather peaceful being up before everyone else he noticed. The castle was quite different when it wasn't filled with people pointing or staring. It was a big improvement in his opinion. Not being sure if the great hall was serving breakfast this early, Harry stopped by the kitchen. As the painting swung open to admit him, all the house elves froze and stared at him in shock. "Is something on my face?"

Dobby stepped forward. "Great and powerful Harry Potter Sir is being different," he said cautiously. "Hims is being lots different."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I am," he agreed. "I also feel a lot Better and am very hungry. Can I get a couple of steaks, rare, a gallon of milk, and about a pound of fried potatoes?"

Back on familiar ground the house elves quickly served him all he could eat, and could he ever eat! He ate a surprising amount, several times what he'd planned on in fact. Dobby counted his fingers as Harry Potter got up from the table just to make sure he still had them all.

"Thanks guys," Harry called out as he left to get his supplies for class before remembering he really didn't have time to waste and he really should start training for the tournament, since it was life or death. Mind made up, Harry retrieved some writing supplies from his dorm, ignoring the glares from several of his housemates and headed for the library. He had a lot of research to do, but thankfully all these books were in English, even if it was Old English.

He was deep in the study of self transfiguration and animal avatars several hours later, he got up and pulled a book from a lone bookcase in the back, when he was bumped by a seventh year who sneered at him and said sorry after knocking the book from his hands.

Harry noted the several other seventh year Hufflepuffs nearby and that there was no one else around and simply stepped forward and drove his fist into the Puff's stomach, knocking him to the ground. Before the other Puffs could respond he was already among them. They may have had the advantage of size, but it was obvious none of them worked all that hard physically or had any real idea of how to fight hand to hand.

"Dormus," Harry whispered a minute later waving his hand at the pile of puffs and was satisfied to see them slump into unconsciousness. It would have taken a lot of time and effort to knock them all out and probably have attracted Mrs. Prince, but a quick knockdown and a wandless sleep spell would have the same effect and leave the same impression as if he had.

Harry collected the books he wanted and moved back to his table only to find it occupied. He lifted up one end of it and sent a cascade of school supplies to the floor, much to the shock of the students sitting there. "I cannot abide thieves. You lot have less time than you think to return my things and move to one of the other empty tables."

This actually did attract Mrs. Prince who stopped to take stock of the situation.

"My bag, my wand, and the three books I already had out, which have not been checked out, meaning they shouldn't be in anyone's bag unless they are planning to steal them," he said firmly, not letting the students recover or respond.

Under Mrs. Prince's glare the students quickly returned Harry's things and he sighed as he saw they'd broken his quills and torn up his notes. His wand and the books were fine, as they weren't stupid enough to go that far.

Mrs. Prince cleaned and repaired everything with a simple wave of her wand, unfortunately leaving Harry's parchments blank if intact. "I will be having words with your head of house, this is not the kind of behavior I expect from Hogwarts students."

"It's the kind of behavior I expect from them," Harry said. "You should have seen them when they were blaming me for the Chamber of Secrets being opened."

"It may be less disruptive if you use one of the private study rooms," Mrs. Prince suggested.

"I have a pass for the restricted section somewhere," Harry offered, wondering where he'd put the stack of them he'd gotten Lockhart to sign during the second year to allow Hermione access.

Mrs. Prince nodded, figuring he'd been given access since he was in the tournament, and quickly wrote out a pass for him and pointed to the private rooms. "Eleven is open."

"Thank you Mrs. Prince," he said, honestly grateful for the assistance as he gathered his things and entered one of the private rooms.

It was another four hours later when his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten lunch, and Dinner was approaching, that he decided to take a break. He had a good grasp on the hows and whys of the wizarding world's wanded magic and how it differed from what he'd learned around the world, well worlds… probably.

He suddenly heard a dying scream in his mind and his scar burst open leaking a thin stream of black ichor down his face. A female voice howled in victory and he felt lighter. Mopping at his face with a handkerchief he decided he'd have to figure out what had just happened so falling into a quick trance he dove into his own mind.

0o0o0o0o0o0

A pair of men sat at a table in the park. The man on the left was heavily tanned, had an eye patch over his left eye and was dressed in blood stained fatigues. The man on the right wore a wide brimmed black fedora and a black inverness coat. He had a crimson scarf wrapped around his face just under his nose. The chess pieces in front of them, on the chess board built into the table, argued with each other as the pair watched amused.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as the two watched the chess set play without their intervention.

"You had a dark passenger, deep in your soul, that only a primal force could deal with," the man on the right intoned gravely.

Harry turned to the one eyed man on the left.

"You had a bit of that evil prick's soul in your scar, a couple of my friends decided to send it on," he replied to the unasked question.

"You have no sense of style," the man on the right accused.

"Cryptic is not a style, it's being an asshole," the man on the left replied.

Harry got a brief image of a young blacked woman covered in clay paints, holding a spear, and a large wolf like creature hunting down and savaging a deformed, midget version of Voldemort.

"You're welcome," the man on the left said.

The man on the right shook his head. "Cryptic makes people think for themselves, so they feel some pride in their accomplishments when they arrive at the right answer."

"Cryptic get people killed as they try and solve needless riddles," the one eyed man argued.

Harry decided to name them Scarf and Patch since they hadn't bothered to introduce themselves.

"This wasn't a life or death matter," Scarf pointed out.

"Point," Patch Agreed.

"Did anyone even tell you that you look Alex Baldwin?" Harry asked.

Occasionally," Scarf replied.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry found himself in the library, being shaken awake by Luna Lovegood.

"Wake up," Luna said softly as she shook him. "The library's about to close and you have a handkerchief glued to your head with dried blood."

"Thanks" Harry said as he tugged at the handkerchief and found she was right.

Omake by Falkun:

Harry nodded. "Yes, I've been taken over by Voldemort, and my first action is to make you all my eternal slaves! Mwa ha ha!"

Dobby shrieked in fear and fainted along with all the other house elves. Harry's eyes widened as he panicked and he quickly ran to Dobby's side.

"Dobby? Dobby it's Harry, I was just joking! Doooooooobbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Dobby opened one eye as he looked at the Great Harry Potter Sir. "Dobby knew, but the Great and Wonderful Harry Potter Sir should know to never be trying to fool a house elf. House Elves are beings the best at trickering people."

End Scene

Typing done by Falkun (who needs to remember to credit himself when he does this XD)

An: Yet another 'Harry gains Xander's memories', but even adding in The Shadow didn't make it interesting enough to continue on. I might write more on it later, if I get an interesting idea on where to take it.