A/N:
A small second chapter to see if this story can garner some interest.
Please keep in mind that the pairing for this story is up for vote on my profile. Vote!
WARNING: Things can get a bit heavy this chapter. Lots of world building, slightly diverting from the Harry Potter you know and adore. Feel free to PM/review about any questions you may have, I'll do my best to answer them.
In response to reviews SPOILER FOR THIS CHAPTER:
There was no actual previous mention of any angels in the last chapter. I am introducing one in here, but they do not have any significant bearing in the story, at least, not for a while.
Comments: This story is best read in a 3/4ths format (or half width format).
Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Potter Manor was usually not a quiet place. Two redheads and two black-haired inhabitants made quietude a rare commodity in the household. Added to that was the fact that today was the 1st of August 1988, birthday of one of the redheads inside. All of her friends, extended family, and political allies (each and every one present upon invitation) were being entertained in the guest ballroom. So naturally, when the entrance door of Potter Manor was hit by a humanoid projectile at high velocity, everyone inside stopped moving and conversation muted instantly. The afternoon ambience adequately jostled, the magically automated orchestra's magic fizzled out.
Calmly, Senior Unspeakable Potter assessed the situation.
Isolated event? Check.
Aggression from event? None so far, but can never be sure.
Death Eater attack? No. Been too long. Revenge illogical, few high-value targets present for scale of party.
Prank war retaliation from Black? Merlin, I hope not. Else he'll be castrated, this time, and it won't be me.
Event approachable?
She took a deep breath.
Yes. Let's go take a look at this.
"James, dear?"
"Yes, Lily?"
"Handle the guests, if you would. Ask Sirius and Persephone for help."
"What's going on, mum?" Looking down at the wide-eyed Violet Potter, Lily gave a reassuring smile.
"We're going to find out, darling. Why don't you go find Michael and the rest of your friends, for now? We'll open your gifts in a moment." Violet knew that tone, and the edge in her mother's voice meant she brooked no argument.
Thankfully, Patriarch Potter managed to drag her towards her friends nonchalantly.
"Oh, that noise? That was the car engine I've been trying to modify. Must have exploded." All smiles and confidence exuding from his forced swagger, James pacified the ballroom. "Quite a shock, I'll admit, on the spot."
Amelia Bones, Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, raised her concerns. "You do realize modifying muggle objects is illegal, James?"
"Oh, I wasn't going to make it fly or anything – it's still legal as long as I don't make it do something it isn't supposed to, with respect to the Statute of Secrecy."
James knew that for once, whatever had just happened, his wife was better equipped to deal with. Mysteries were her side of the business. He was more accustomed to politicking and wand-blazing.
Half a minute later, a shrill screech from his wife got him to review his decision to let her handle it. Rushing back to the entrance as quickly as possible without raising the tension level in the ballroom, James inquired after his wife.
The well-respected couple got the shock of their lives.
.oOo.
"I can't perform Legilimency on a child's underdeveloped mind, Lily! Who knows what it could do to his psyche?"
"I've already cast all the identification spells I know of, Albus! This simply isn't possible!"
"While I confess the young man has quite some explaining to do once he wakes up from his coma, I cannot do what you're asking of me! The repercussions – they could be disastrous for him. The best I can do is a passive version once he's awake, to determine whether he's telling us the truth or not."
Lily Potter sighed. Aggravating Albus Dumbledore would get her nowhere. The situation simply was not possible, though. I buried him myself. James, Sirius, Persephone, Remus, they were all there. They all bore witness!
"I'll take a blood sample and run more advanced tests once he's awake. I can't do it while he's sleeping, since it would be blood forcibly taken. I'll run it against the Unspeakable Database of known samples. We'll know soon enough if he's my Harry."
Dumbledore sighed. He wanted to unravel the enigma that just appeared in front of him today, in the shape of James and Lily Potter's long dead son, but the boy had been stuck in a coma since the day he'd been found, a full week previously. He just didn't know how to wake him. Healers in the form of Madam Pomfrey and St. Mungo's most qualified spell damage and mental damage specialists had recommended to not taking any drastic actions until the boy woke up on his own. His vitals were fine – physically, there was nothing actually wrong with him. His mental state however, could not be properly assessed until such time as they were able to do a thorough check-up on him, which wouldn't be for a while, given his condition.
A voice rang from the doorway interrupting whatever argument Dumbledore was trying to construct cautioning against rushing through decisions.
"Headmaster, might I have a word with you?"
Sirius Black being polite to him? Merlin, what was the world coming to!
"Yes of course, Mr Black." Following him out the room into the main second floor hallway, Albus Dumbledore looked at him questioningly. "What was it you wished to discuss?"
"Thank you for your time Headmaster – I needed your expert opinion about something I can do which may be able to help young Harry Potter – my godson – there."
Dumbledore's gaze turned speculative while looking at him with slight confusion, before comprehension dawned on him. "You mean you want to use the same spell you used to restore minds of Frank and Alice Longbottom on him?"
"Yes, Headmaster. As it is part of the Black Grimoire of Magic, I'm the only one who can properly cast it in this household."
Well, it's Black family magic. On one hand it did restore the Longbottoms mind completely, without side-effects, and didn't interfere with brain activity. On the other, this is a child he'll be using it on.
Merlin help me.
"You have my reluctant support, Sirius."
.oOo.
Bright white spots.
Unintelligible chatter.
Blink.
"… I had to try, James!"
"… Incredibly irresponsible of you! I can't believe…"
"… I did give him my support…"
"…What if this was your…"
"… My Godson!"
Blink.
"Look! He's waking up!"
"… I knew I could…"
Blink.
"… Glass of water handy…"
Blink.
Bright white spots became distinguishable, coloured patterns. Blurry shapes took proper form. Lethargy gave way to age-old fight or flight reflexes.
Harry Potter jumped up startled.
The room quietened down. For a moment, everything hung by a hair's breadth as the boy took in his surroundings.
A soft, dulcet tone spoke up, almost hesitant. Fragile, but an overture nonetheless.
"Hello."
A short pause later, Dumbledore decided to have mercy on the Potters and spoke up.
"Hello to you too, my dear boy. Are you thirsty?"
"Yes, sir."
No arrogance exuding from him. Dumbledore passed him the glass of clear water.
"Now, would you mind answering a few questions?"
"I wouldn't mind, sir." The slow tone set everyone in the room more at ease with him, Harry noticed.
"Do you know where you are?" The gentleness of the delivery took away the interrogation-like feel of the situation.
"No, sir." A passive probe told him the boy wasn't lying.
"Do you know who you are?"
"I'm Harry James Potter, sir."
Sharp intakes of breath all around the room.
"Do you know how you got here?"
"No, sir. Actually, sir," Harry made sure to punctuate every statement with a sign of respect for authority, "I don't remember anything apart from my name."
A lie, but no one would know that. Thankfully, Soul Magic created the perfect defence against mental magic. Dumbledore would never be able to tell his deception.
"The boy's mind is muddled – his memories won't respond the way ours do. It is possible; – in fact, it looks like he has amnesia."
Pandemonium broke out.
.oOo.
The following week saw drastic changes in the Potter household. James and Lily Potter, once it was proven beyond reasonable doubt that the boy was indeed Harry James Potter, had delightedly taken him in. They had lost many years of him growing up, due to the prophecy uttered by Sybil Trelawney to Albus Dumbledore. When Voldemort had targeted the Potters on that fateful Samhain night, he had killed Harry Potter, but had also perished himself.
Or so they said.
Violet Potter would have been targeted after Harry, but obviously something had happened that night. Dumbledore had been extremely contrite and had apologized profusely for the fate that befell the family. Harry had been posthumously honoured by Dumbledore and indeed, the Wizarding World at large – the youngest magical to ever be awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class. James and Lily, grief-stricken, had accepted the award with a very bitter and forced smile.
The best way to make up for all those lost years was to welcome him back to the family, which everyone did, wholeheartedly. Michael had been thrilled to hear he had an older brother, and Violet had cried when she was told that Harry was the brother who had protected her all those years ago.
They had hit upon a small snag, though. Somehow the daily prophet had gotten hold of the news that Harry Potter was alive, and this spelt nothing but trouble for the family. They did not want the news of his miraculous recovery/resurrection out so soon; especially since the whole Wizarding World knew that he was the reason for Voldemort's defeat. The moniker of "The Chosen One" was thrown around a lot.
There were some who held different views, however. Dumbledore personally felt that this was a vindication of his belief that Voldemort had not actually died, simply disappeared. For in the prophecy that he held holy it was stated that neither could live while the other survived, and his interpretation of it was that Harry was alive because Voldemort himself was alive.
Harry, however, had issues.
His mental age had not changed at all. He was very aware of the fact this could be a new beginning, a new start for him. He was immensely glad. He would be able to do things differently, this time, and he was not going to waste this golden once-in-a-lifetime fate given opportunity to set everything straight. This was what he had been working so hard towards, in his original dimension. He has screwed up, royally, when he went back in time, believing himself to be more than capable enough to handle anything that was thrown at him.
He had paid for it, and he intended to learn from his mistake.
Though he had been split from his divine half, he had been awoken by some strange magic, which should not have been possible at all, given the grievous circumstances surrounding animus fission. He figured his divine half must have somehow helped him out. He was grateful, because now he had complete and unadulterated access to his immensely powerful soul magic. Much like the old concept of Ying and Yang, the Soul was antithetical to the Divine, and he was no longer weighed down by commonplace concepts like morality and he was certain he had lost his hero-complex, which consistently got him to risk his life for almost anyone and anything. While those concepts were debatably associated with the Divine, and he no longer felt that urge within him, and that made all the difference.
Harry shivered in delight. He had studied soul magic extensively, after understanding how Voldemort had manipulated his soul to get immortality. Thankfully, his parents were still great friends with Sirius and his family (who knew Sirius could settle down?), in this dimension, so if he could pass off as being very studious, he might be able to request access to the Black family library and continue trying to find as much as he could about soul magic. Now, he was sure he would be able to perform soul magic much more efficiently, possibly with more power.
Soul magic is, unfortunately, essentially a misnomer. The idea is not that one needs to use up their soul to be able to cast spells, nor even that one has to sacrifice their soul to be able to use soul magic. In fact, basic soul magic works in a similar manner to glass, if light were to shine upon it. Harry had discovered the idea of soul magic late in his education period, and he realized he would have been much more adept at it had he started earlier.
Like the photons that make up light get their trajectory modified when passing through glass due to a change in the medium, magic gets similarly modified when passing through a receptacle – in the case of soul magic, a person's soul – and thus becomes a lot more precise, more efficient, easier to manage, easier to direct, easier to control or polyvalent. Since will and intent play a huge part in manipulating magic, soul magic is exceptionally powerful. Not only that, but it can also change the medium of magic, meaning magical counter spells such as the Finite Incantatem would be ineffectual against things they would normally dispel. Moreover, channelling soul magic allows for special spells that can manipulate the energy in one's own soul to both creative and destructive ends. A wholesome soul can refill the energy it expends by absorbing it from the surrounding, a form of ambient magic absorber. This is especially useful when compounded with the fact that it will absorb the energy from any magic around it; this can be controlled when one is extremely proficient at soul magic. The source of this energy need only be magical.
Harry had more than once refilled his soul energy by absorbing the magic powering certain wards and even spells in duels, though the latter was more based on luck than any real practice. However, since he understood such a thing was possible, he realized that the answer to defeating Voldemort might lie in becoming proficient enough at manipulating his soul energy and soul magic to achieve a state of constant harmony between energy intake and output.
The best part of all? Voldemort had split his soul erroneously – soul magic was a very dangerous and unstable avenue for him, one he actively avoided. Thus, he had one true magic that Voldemort would never be able to master, and intended to capitalize on this not so-insignificant advantage.
The direct counter to soul magic, unfortunately, is necromancy – as the magic powering necromantic acts come from rituals that only leave magical residue where they are performed and thus cannot be absorbed the way other conventional magics can.
Harry knew that Voldemort was definitely at the very least fully proficient in necromancy, from the sheer number of inferi he had released on the magical population during the war. He intended to use his soul energy as judiciously as possible if in a fight against dozens upon dozens of inferi. They could be countered by fire or soul magic, as they were raised through necromancy, but it wouldn't do to expend himself completely against them. While necromancy is the direct counter to soul magic, the only thing that is its real, theoretical, opposite is blood magic.
Harry didn't know how much experience Voldemort had with blood magic in this timeline, but he realized that he must have been quite prolific in his own to have made the connection about Harry's blood being what protected him from Voldemort, and thus use that same blood in a ritual to create a new body for himself. Hopefully he was not as gifted here.
Blood magic, used offensively, had always been nasty business, but he had understood the importance and need for it, in his previous timeline. He just hoped he would be able learn from proper sources rather than following half-rotten leads from mouldy spineless textbooks.
First, he had to establish himself as a genius. Nothing less than complete confidence in him was required from his parents and Sirius if he was to be let into the treasure trove that was the Black Family Library. Besides, he couldn't let Hermione take the title as the smartest magical in their generation without a fight now, could he?
Things were liable to play out differently, in this dimension. The first priority was to ascertain whether Voldemort still had the same horcruxes. If he did, well, Harry's job would become a lot easier. The second thing was to make sure he was capable of destroying Voldemort. Unfortunately, due to Dumbledore, the Prophet, and other perpetrators, the Wizarding World was pretty much aware that he was the one who was prophesized to bring down the Dark Lord. He was unsure whether Dumbledore intended to train him, now that he actually had a reason to survive, unlike last time when he was simply an orphan, and not the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter.
Well, technically that wasn't true, but this time he actually cared about what the title could mean for him and what he could achieve with it. Obviously, he was still Sirius' godson here, according to what he had overheard. That didn't, however, mean that he was next in line as the Black heir – Sirius and Persephone Black had kids here. Their eldest was a girl called Electra Black, slightly younger than Harry. Apparently, Violet and Electra were really close friends.
Electra's reaction to having another Potter to the family was indifference. She was happy her pseudo-sister got to finally meet the brother who had saved her life. She would reserve her judgement about him, for now. She didn't have too many friends, but she cherished the ones she had wholeheartedly.
James Potter was also in charge of bringing his son up to speed on things he should have gotten the chance to teach over the past years. He would relish the opportunity.
It was a warm and pleasant Sunday afternoon of October that James Potter approached his eldest child, who was busy going through a book about magical plants in the family library. He looked up from his book, hearing his father's footsteps softly thudding into the room.
"Harry, I see you've taken to the studying your mother's set you very quickly."
"Hi, yeah, mum told me that I hadn't been shirking my magical education, wherever I was the past few years – I remember most of the things I'm currently reading through."
James quirked up an eyebrow at that. "Oh?"
"Yeah, I've been reading the latest chapter in this book about tending to celandine and hellebore and I know exactly how to do these things, though some a bit differently, although I think the way I remember is supposed to be better. You see, if I do…"
James tuned out of the conversation for a second. His son was bright. Exceptionally bright, even. The book he was currently going through was recommended further reading on plant care, a book that was not used in the curriculum nowadays but had been part of the fifth year O.W.L syllabus in his time. It was not particularly difficult to grasp, as it had been written in a very engaging manner, the herbalist writing it having been a well-known Professor used to giving frequent discourses on the subject.
However, it was not intended for children, and whilst Harry was very precocious, he was still only an eight year old. He no longer had any issue about introducing further knowledge to him. His son was a quick study, and he was ready.
"Very good, Harry," James tried not to sound condescending, he really did. "But that isn't quite the reason why I'm here right now."
That brought Harry up short.
He had been using his amnesia for the past couple months as an all-access pass that went a long way towards explaining his ability to perform critical thinking and analysis well above the norm. He had shown that he wasn't just intelligent, but could also apply the knowledge he had to solve challenging issues. He had shown the ability to adapt as required.
He wondered not for the first time whether displaying his intellectual prowess had been a miscalculated move on his part, and whether his parents were suspicious about anything.
Unnoticeably swallowing a gulp, Harry held up his father's gaze.
"What was it you wanted to tell me about, Dad?"
His nervousness was unwarranted, although his father's reply astounded him. "Harry, how much do you know about metalworking?"
.oOo.
The Potter smithy contained all the tools required for most pre-modern metalworking processes. There was a grinder, an air-pump operated forge, high-quality anvils and an assortment of hammers designed for various tasks, among numerous other tools. A couple house-elves present bowed to them as they made their way through the workshop area, Harry's eyes growing wider in pure glee as he realized he had a chance to learn how to make things in an art that he had no previous knowledge about. By the look he was getting from his father, James Potter would play an important role in that.
A sudden, wayward thought struck him. "Dad, isn't metalworking a mostly muggle job? Can't we just magically create whatever we need in terms of any of the crafts?"
James gave him a knowing look before waving at a nearby workbench. "I asked my father the same thing, Harry, when he first introduced me to this wonder."
An intricate design lay on the bench, and Harry stepped closer to take a look at it.
He was amazed to see the symbol of the deathly hallows placed in the middle of a very elaborate pentagram.
"This, Harry, is what we call a focus. Not like a wand, no, but more like a ward stone, or a rune stone. This brooch here can have a very complex enchantment cast on it, be it a ward, a magic inhibitor, any enchantment of any sort."
He took a short breath.
"However, if the object used for the focus is not designed and made purposefully for the self-same enchantment, then unfortunately the magic will leak out of it over time and go back into the surroundings."
Harry nodded along, to indicate he was listening attentively.
"When we craft metal into a brooch, or a pin, or any object really for the enchantment, we infuse the properties of magic into the work piece, either taken from the ambient magic or expended from our own energy. When this is done correctly, the magic will no longer leak out of item, or will do so at a minimal rate, as compared to before."
Understanding was slowly dawning on Harry.
"So what you're saying is, all those heavy enchantments on the Manor,"
"Are mostly placed on items we crafted ourselves, hidden in a place that no outsider could get access to… do you now understand why enchanting, rune working and warding are three crafts we Potters are well known for?"
Harry did not in fact remember that, but he supposed James expected him to have read that somewhere in his books about the Pureblood society of the magical world.
"There are few families in the whole magical world at large that still practice creating their own enchantments and artifacts. While you'll hear of many families engaging in the trade of said artifacts, very few of us still practice art. It is quite a matter of pride, amongst the older Noble Houses, that we each have an area we specialize in. It is what we all do, for the advancement of magic, in these times of fast-advancing muggle technology. That car I showed you in the garage? It runs on magic – magic drawn from its surroundings. I modified the fuel cell by inserting a custom-built runic converter that removed petrol as the required fuel, all done by yours truly."
Harry was in awe.
"It was not always this way, however." That shook him out of his awe. "Once upon a time, we were merely an offshoot line of the Gryffindor family. It wasn't until Ignotus Peverell married into the Potter line that we surfaced as powerful enchanters and rune-workers."
"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."
"Indeed, Harry. We may never yet know if our ancestor did indeed get a gift from Death itself, but the invisibility cloak he has left us as our family heirloom is still as powerful now as it was in my father's days. It is very likely that his skill in crafting is what gave fuel to that bedtime story, but the Potter family crest has always since incorporated the symbol of the deathly hallows in its design. It remains a sign of respect for the one who elevated us into the noble art."
Harry gazed at the design in wonder. "Dad, is it possible the other two hallows are real?"
He knew some of the answer, Voldemort having gone on a near-worldwide hunt for the Deathstick.
"I doubt it, Harry. Three brothers possibly created three very powerful objects, but there are certain things in our family cloak which show that magic and science both came together to create it – not some phantasmagorical entity." There was definitely a grin at the sheer absurdity of the idea present on James face.
Harry tried to hide his disappointment. Maybe some other books in the library, or perhaps the Hogwarts library would provide additional information regarding the issue.
Maybe becoming the Master of Death meant that it would allow one to choose when they died, and nothing else. Knowing his luck, however, that might just not be the case.
Still, even if he had a reliably good idea about where two of the Hallows were, he had no idea how he would even attempt to find a resurrection stone. He let the matter lie for now.
"But enough digressing; today is going to be your first lesson in here. I'll be showing you how to properly use all of the tools in here, but you are not allowed to come in here by yourself and work with these tools without my supervision, okay? Else Lily's going to have my head."
"Yes, dad, I understand."
What a glorious afternoon indeed.
.oOo.
Violet Potter was incredibly happy. It was not simply because today was Christmas, and she had received presents, but because of a specific present she was now the proud owner of. She looked at her elder brother with adoration in her eyes.
"So as I was saying, this little golden snitch is something I made myself, with a bit of help from dad. I put some special enchantments on it, mostly related to safety precautions, but also a few related to the settings of the snitch. If you need to lower the speed of the snitch a little, you just need to say whatever you want it to do by starting off with 'Activate Snitch'. You can make it fly in circles, move in a completely random pattern, do into straight lines or dives…"
She was still staring at him, making Harry slightly uncomfortable.
"Ahem, so yeah, it took me a couple tries to get it done, it was really shoddy at first, but dad helped me a lot with this," Harry started rambling. "I understand if you don't like it though, I mean it's obviously not the best craftsmanship…"
"I love it!" That short outburst dragged Harry out of his embarrassed rambling.
"You do?"
"Yeah, of course! You made me a snitch! Of course I love it!"
Relief spread visibly through Harry. "That's great, that's really great. I'm so glad."
His shoulders relaxed. It was painfully obvious to his parents that Harry was trying his level best to fit in with the family, and he already cared for his siblings deeply.
When they'd gone to play in the park with their little brother Michael, a couple of the other girls had picked on Violet and Electra, and Harry had been angered enough that he shook while viciously tearing them down with harsh words. It had sent the girls crying, and cheered up both Violet and Electra.
No one picked on his family.
Michael was still overwhelmed at his gift. "You got me a proper broomstick?!"
Harry turned around from hugging his sister to messing with his brother's hair. A slight grin adorned his face. "Indeed, Michael." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Although, you've got to promise only to use it when either Mum, Dad or I'm around, yeah?"
Lily was not exactly pleased when she heard what Harry wanted to get his brother, but she figured that if he could issue boundaries for its use, she had no real qualms about it. Quidditch seemed to run in the family – it would be better to instil proper ethics now than tear her hair over it later.
She smiled at her eldest son. Harry had really come far in a period of a few months. It seemed he had been starved for love, and he was doing his best to catch up with everyone. A small tear threatened to fall from her eyes. She felt blessed to have her family complete once more. She made eye contact with James, and he returned her a look that reminded her of the reason why she'd married him in the first place.
A quiet acquiescence with a gentle smile to show he understood the feeling and was proud.
.oOo.
Harry hadn't quite grasped the full depth of the Potter family library yet. A veritable wealth of information, a real treasure trove of knowledge dedicated to almost all known branches of magic, let alone the few being taught nowadays at magical institutions. This was exactly what he needed. However, even if he had an eidetic memory, it would take years to learn about everything in the books, to study, analyse, assimilate all of the information contained within those walls.
He didn't have that kind of luxury.
Yes, he was only eight years old, almost nine now, and yes, that gave him a decent amount of time to be able to catch up to the level of an arch mage like Dumbledore or Voldemort. However, therein laid the crux of the matter. He didn't want to be stuck playing catch-up. He needed to get on equal footing with them. He had around about nineteen years' worth of knowledge, but Voldemort had more than half a century on him, and Dumbledore closer to a full century. To get on an equal level with those titans, well, it would be a very difficult task.
First thing was information gathering. He needed to know just what he was up against in this world, and find out everything he possibly could about the enemy. Secondly, something he was already doing right now was to try and further his own knowledge in all fields of magic as much as possible. It was a monumental task that he set for himself, but only now did he begin to understand the folly of such an undertaking.
In his original world, Hermione herself hadn't been able to find out the depth of Voldemort and Dumbledore's magical knowledge. Not only that, but their know-how of magic itself allowed them to be extremely versatile with their offense and defence, and it showed in every single one of their encounters.
That Voldemort even knew a spell to split a soul away from its divine and mortal constituents spoke a lot about his power. Knowledge is, after all, power.
Now that he had begun going through all of the books in the library, he began to grasp just how hopeless his situation was. He needed to find some form of enlightenment. He needed outside help of any kind. The knowledge to outdo masters in their own fields.
What Harry didn't realize was the small fact that he could actually be considered as an extremely knowledgeable mage himself - he had managed to refine a technique Hermione had managed to create, after a short discussion with Ron gave her sudden insight into the workings of the space-time plane. Not only did that mean he had intricate details about that sort of magic under fine control, it also showed understanding and adaptability to a level hitherto unheard of. After all, not everyone could cast magic so strong that it affected the whole of their existence.
There were different levels of magic that one could cast. Generally, these were grouped together to identify the amount of power normally required to cast a spell. Firstly, at the lowest level, where a single spell would not be a big drain on a person's magical core, were the Reaction-Class spells. These were anything that affected a very small area around the person or had small range. Ranging from everyday household charms to the powerful battle-magic spells, they could become quickly taxing on a person's magical core, reaching the high end of the spectrum. The effective range of these spells meant that they are generally most powerful at closest range, diminishing in power as it travels on and ultimately fizzles out beyond a certain point, depending on the amount of magical energy expended into the spell.
After this level came the Battalion-Class spells, termed such due to the first recorded instance of use of a spell falling into the category. Aptly named, it incorporated spells that were able to affect huge areas. Certain reaction-class spells could be overpowered to a huge degree to fall into this category; the first recorded use of fiendfyre, one that was completely uncontrolled, grew to burn down a full forest as well as the two unfortunate armies that were involved in a battle within it. Ironically, the mage who cast it, seeking a more favourable outcome for his kind, went down in history as the one of the worst possible idiotic dark lords of Ancient China.
The last class of spells were arguably the most powerful, but could be the least noticeable as well. Magical spells that could encompass the whole world or other huge areas generally fell under World-Class magic. The last known recorded use of it was when the International Confederation of Wizards enforced the Statute of Secrecy.
Another such use was Harry's ritual to transcend the limitations of the space-time plane and alter the past. This was different to Time-Turners simply by virtue of it altering a whole reality – his home universe, instead of just allowing loophole exploitation.
Thus, the fact that Harry still believed he had so much ground to catch up on compared to Voldemort was simply a skewed belief, born from a desperate need to become better than anything that could be thrown at him; a pure survival instinct.
In reality, out of the different levels of magic users, Harry would rate at a very high level with just his magical knowledge. His core, while having dwindled in size to that of a child of his age, would be sure to grow unencumbered by the previous limitations that had sprung from being forced to live with the Dursley routine.
All beginner wizards and witches were at the level of an apprentice, after which came the normal and most populous rank of magician, after which came masters. The higher level of sorcerer, much fewer in number indeed, was succeeded only by the ranks of arch mage and deity, respectively. While magical ability was the deciding factor on how you were ranked, every so often ingenious ways of using magic were discovered, and forced some adjustments on the system. The ministry of magic's department of mysteries was in charge of handling this, and they managed to shroud much of magical Britain's knowledge of the ranking system itself in mystery.
If Unspeakable Lily Potter had thought to test the magical ability of her son and Harry agreed to do so without holding back, they would have been surprised to note that he was already considered a master.
The years of education yet to come would be able to change that into something far greater, given proper stimulus.
Little, mortal, Harry was not dwelling on such matters, however. He had gotten it in his head that he would have to seek help elsewhere, and that his own power was not going to be enough. With that in mind, he began sorting through the books with one topic in mind: summoning.
.oOo.
In another part of the Potter Manor, while Harry was busy dabbling in forbidden magics, Lily Potter was reading a troubling letter that she had received in the morning.
She knew it was a sincere letter, and she wanted to believe its contents, but she did not know how to process the information.
She began to read it again.
Dear Lily,
It has been a long time since I've written to you. You may not believe this, but I truly have missed my little sister. Much has changed in the past few years, since your marriage.
My little baby has grown into a beautiful, kind boy. His father, however, has not stopped his downward slope, ever since he lost his promotion to a younger associate three years ago.
I know we haven't always been on speaking terms, especially after how I behaved and treated you at your wedding, but in fairness Potter played a cruel prank on Vernon. Just the mere mention of magic has been forbidden in our household since.
I do not know how else to put this, Lily, but I need help.
Vernon has become increasingly aggressive in his mannerisms and behaviour. He started off slowly, a small glass of whiskey every few days turning into one every day, and then some more. I'm not worried about myself, as you know; I can take pretty good care of myself.
Lily remembered an incident involving Severus Snape when they were younger and chuckled slightly.
What I'm starting to fear is that his aggression is not being limited to domestic interactions with me anymore. Yesterday I saw Dudley with a hand-sized bruised across his back while taking his washing. I need to get out of this.
Again, you'll ask, why do I need you for that? The truth is, I don't.
I've filed for divorce. I've got enough money saved up from working odd jobs over the years and part of the money dad left me in his inheritance. I'm going to get out of this, one way or another.
However, I intend to get as far away from this man as I possibly can. The only favour I have to ask of you is to make him forget us, make him forget us completely. I'll let Dudley visit his father once he's older, if he really wants to, but it is simply not possible to live like this, in fear. A tyrant in the house is not how I want Dudley growing up.
I've tried to keep him away from home as much as possible, now that Vernon is in a transition period between jobs and thus sitting at home doing nothing. Extra-curricular activities, all kinds of stuff, anything to keep him away as much as I can. That's the best protection I can give him as a mother right now, and it simply isn't enough.
As one mother to another, Lily, please help me help my son.
One more thing, though, that might shock you. Dudley has heard a lot about his wonderful aunt Lily—
Lily paused and scoffed.
—and he wants to meet her and his cousins. I remember you telling me about your son and daughter, and I imagine have grown a lot since your last mail. I would be very grateful if we could one day arrange for this.
Of course, she hadn't told Petunia about Harry.
As I finish writing this, I've made preparations for moving out completely. Vernon should have no idea about this, I haven't made any overt moves and Dudley has no idea when I plan on doing this. I intend to move out soon. Vernon leaves Friday afternoons to play golf with some shareholders. That's in two days.
I know you'll find me wherever I am, so I'm not giving you an address. Take care of yourself, and I'll do the same.
With love,
Tuney
P.S. I'm going to become a lawyer. Should you ever get in trouble, contact me.
The nerve! To ignore her for so long, and suddenly do a completely one-eighty!
Lily had made up her mind a long time back. She just needed to angst over it for a while longer. After all, there was no way she was going to ignore her Tuney like that, no matter the stuff that happened previously; water under the bridge.
She sat down to think about what to tell James.
It would be a very interesting conversation.
.oOo.
Inside his chambers, an aged headmaster began massaging his temples. Things were moving too quickly.
Just yesterday morning Severus Snape informed him that the dark mark had started to become more and more visible. He needed a way to check this information before he could act on it.
The former leader of the armies of magical Europe would not act without proof, else he condemn even more souls to a terrible fate.
The problem was what was the best way to go about this? He could not simply put Severus on a reconnaissance mission, or even as bait. The potions master was a tremendous spy, definitely, but he was too valuable to be used in this way, especially if Voldemort was temperamental at this point of time and killed indiscriminately. He could not just simply let just about anyone become target practice either – and he couldn't ask his Order to investigate possible sightings, magical Britain, and indeed, magical Europe was not ready for news of this magnitude.
There was one way he could check up on this, one very difficult and extremely delicate way. But it would mean likely losing support of most of his followers should they find out.
From the perch nearby, Fawkes gave a reassuring trill, calming his nerves considerably.
Maybe he could compromise. He could go ahead with this plan, but possibly set some safeguards so that his intentions would not be questioned. Merlin knew he couldn't afford that right now. The tenuous peace that existed between him and the Potter family would be shattered, and the Order would lose their most powerful members along with them.
Picking up his ostrich feather quill, he dipped it in ink and began scribbling away on a short piece of parchment in front of him.
Once he was done writing a multitude of letters, he beckoned Fawkes over.
"My dear friend, I need you to deliver these letters."
Fawkes gave an indignant trill, but was interrupted by Dumbledore. "You know I wouldn't ask you unless it was of the utmost importance that no one be able to intercept this."
Fawkes made a soft squeak that sounded suspiciously similar to a sigh. Very well.
"Good. The first one needs to go to James Potter and Sirius Black, at their desk at the Auror office, while the second goes to their superior, Madam Amelia Bones. This third one is to be sent to Head Unspeakable Croaker and Unspeakable Lily Potter-Evans. Godspeed my friend."
Fawkes gave an acquiescing trill before disappearing in a burst of primal fire.
Leaving behind a scorched desk.
Dumbledore slapped his face into his palms.
He despaired at ever getting Fawkes to stop getting at him like that.
He didn't have to wait long, though. He knew his letters would either set three people on a warpath, or all of them, running straight to his office. Stepping towards his fireplace, he called out to Snape via floo network and asked him to come to his office and bring his newest project with him.
Just as he predicted, within five minutes, all of the people he sent letters to came barging into his office.
James and Sirius saw Snape and gave a small nod of acknowledgement, which was returned in kind.
The first to speak up, however, when noticing present company, however, was Unspeakable Potter-Evans.
"Dumbledore," Lily began speaking slowly and articulately. "What in Morgana's name are you thinking? Have you gone senile?"
Dumbledore would have shuddered at the tone had he not been used to having the woman come to his office during the later years of her education, often in trouble related to three of the other people in the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, I'm still quite sane. As a matter of fact, I chose to first discuss this endeavour with all of you, instead of strong-arming my way through it. Let it be a show of trust and thus give me the benefit of doubt?"
James Potter and Sirius Black looked at him, mouths tightly shut in a grim expression. Amelia Bones gave a small sigh before asking him to continue.
"The reason I've asked Severus here today with you all is because he is of vital importance to this bait plan. Tell me, Algernon, are you familiar with the muggle fishing saying of 'hook, line, and sinker'?"
A sharp intake of breath followed, but Dumbledore continued.
"Before we release Mr. Pettigrew from Azkaban, he is going to be fed a tracker potion. Severus will initiate Project Takedown on him beforehand, so even if Pettigrew does get smart and cleanse himself of any potions in his system, he will never be able to visit locations that we do not want him to without his magical core exploding. He is, however, going to flee to the only person he knows needs him – Voldemort."
"What if he wants revenge, Headmaster, what then?"
"Did you ever know Mr. Pettigrew to be courageous, Mr. Black?"
Sirius gave a defeated shake of his head.
Severus spoke up. "There's no need to worry about that. If you trust my handiwork, trust me when I say he will not be able to go to certain locations. His whole body will begin to rebel – he won't be awake for long. We can then, ah, expatriate him."
That mollified the group a bit. Severus Snape's creations were legendary to them, and classified. He was, after all, contracted by the Department of Mysteries on different topics.
"Anyways, as I was saying, we'll follow him wherever he goes. If he does happen to lead us to any death eaters, those released or unaccounted for, that will simply be a bonus. However, my main concern is Voldemort. I—We need to know whether he is still a threat or not. If he what I think he is, currently, I may have something that will work against him for now. A bit of powerful holy magic taught to me by a priest."
"So what is your full plan? Wormtail goes to Voldemort, then what?"
"Well, firstly it gives us undeniable evidence that Voldemort is still about, and we take steps to prepare to face him when he weasels his way back in Britain." Dumbledore took a short breath.
"Secondly, and actually more importantly, we give Voldemort small clues and hints to show that we released Mr. Pettigrew."
Eyebrows quirked up on everyone's faces.
"This will make him wary, but it will give him a sense of false confidence, that he thinks he knows what our intentions are. Likely, he will either kill Mr. Pettigrew, which I highly doubt given his situation if he is indeed alive, or, more probably, he will knock Pettigrew out and take him somewhere, wherever he feels is safe."
"Dumbledore, he will likely remove any sort of tracking charm or potion we put on Mr. Pettigrew himself, then."
"I am well aware of that – that is meant to reinforce his idea that we have little control over the situation. Once he feels safe enough, however, the trap will be sprung. Hook, line, sinker."
"The trap?"
"Oh, I apologize; I must have forgotten to mention that I would be adding the powerful holy magic as a latent curse on Mr. Pettigrew."
That was smart.
But nothing Voldemort wouldn't expect.
"Headmaster, I'm sure you realize, Voldemort will be expecting something of the sort and take precautions against it?"
"Hmm, indeed. However, this spell will only work when you try to remove it."
Now that was clever.
Amelia was not fully convinced, however. "What contingency plans do we have in place in case this one fails? I'm not releasing a known criminal and potentially strengthening a terrorist group without some sort of reassurance this cannot go badly for us regardless of the circumstance."
Dumbledore immediately gave up his gentle face for a solemn one. "The spell is designed to work in tandem with Severus' creation. It will kill Mr. Pettigrew if nothing else."
That shocked everyone. Albus Dumbledore, self-proclaimed pacifist, would essentially be murdering someone?
Moreover, he was admitting this in front of law enforcement.
Amelia Bones took a decision. "Potter, Black, this meeting never happened. We did not hear anything in here that Headmaster Dumbledore could be prosecuted for. Understood?"
After a short moment, both replied. "Crystal, ma'am."
Dumbledore gave a short cough, and continued after he let news sink in. "In the event that the spell works as intended, we will simply recapture Mr. Pettigrew; well, law enforcement will recapture Mr. Pettigrew. At that point I will let several senior members of the I.C.W. know of this mission. This way they cannot accuse Britain of incompetence. Cornelius will be thanking me without knowing what he's thanking me for."
"What about the muggle government?"
Severus, while shocked at the fact that this was Dumbledore's endgame when he informed him to bring up his Project Takedown, did not hesitate to fill in the gaps.
"I assume steps will be taken towards informing the muggle government and intelligence of this operation. I daresay they won't be too pleased this is happening, but there isn't too much we can do about this differently, and they'll understand that."
"The hell they will! Wormtail is a known mass-murderer; they're not going to take this lying down!"
"Which is why they will be assisting in his trial, as special envoys; it is time the muggles understood how similar our judicial system is to theirs. They will abandon a lot of charges against the magical people as a whole once they see we are just as ruthless and efficient as them."
Amelia's words made Dumbledore pause. He looked up at her, however, and saw the determination in her eyes and voiced his agreement to this new turn.
Over the next few hours, all of them went over the plan in great detail.
The winds of war would be diverted for now.
.oOo.
"Cornelius, why do you need to let the populace know about this? You've hushed up quite a few things in your time – give Amelia the time she needs to catch Mr. Pettigrew, and then this whole thing can be brushed under the rug. After all, this wouldn't be the first time something has gone wrong and you've done this before, so why hesitate now?"
"Because, Dumbledore, this is just a ploy by the opposition to make me look bad! If I don't let the general population know, I'll be vilified!"
"And if you do let them know, Minister, you'll cause mass-panic."
"Amelia, I cannot simply abide by this! I'm going to the Prophet tomorrow and I'll let them know about this prison break."
"Cornelius—"
"No, Dumbledore, I will not stand by—"
"Imperio."
Amelia looked at Dumbledore, startled. She didn't think she would be waiving another law for the esteemed leader of the light. She let him finish his spell, and waited until Minister Fudge declared that the small matter of funding be discussed at a later date and bade them leave him to his busy schedule.
"Amelia, I will not apologize for this. Not until Voldemort has been put down. When that's done, I'm willing to go on trial for the many failures I've committed during my tenure as Supreme Magi and as Headmaster, as well as Supreme Mugwump and all my other titles. For now, however, let's focus on the task at hand."
Amelia gave a short nod, picking up where she left off before being summoned to Minister Fudge's office.
"Croaker reports that Pettigrew didn't take any precautionary measures. Warden Thompson reports that no member of staff was hurt during his escape, but to not make it seem too easy to Pettigrew he had simply switched around the patrol rotas to full dementors instead of dementors/Auror mix. Potter and Black were present and shadowing Pettigrew."
"I see."
"Pettigrew has apparently tried to contact the remaining Carrows members, but instead of whatever welcome he was expecting, he was turned away unceremoniously. He's now heading towards the Balkans."
"I take it we are still tracking his movements in real time, then?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Good. It's time to see if this plans leads to fruition."
Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away, Peter Pettigrew was following up a lead he had heard from a nearby tavern. Apparently there was a forest in the southern parts that the locals stopped frequenting, simply because of the absurd number of 'accidents' that occurred in there, and the amnesia and general fatigue felt by the victims when they returned, if they returned.
He was on the right track.
Two days later, scurrying through the same forest, Peter found what he was looking for.
"Master, I've found you! I've come to serve you my lord!"
He was met with a brutal stunner to the face.
Loud chattering. Heavy, slowed feelings. Jaw-slacking.
Blink.
When he woke up, his world came crashing down on him.
"NO! I'm not going back!"
Over a thousand miles away, inside the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, a meeting was being held.
"Now that is what you call flawless execution."
"Croaker, I know your Unspeakables were nearby, would you mind debriefing us?" He gave an acquiescing nod at Bones and continued.
"Well, it worked just as you said it would, Albus. Voldemort began looking for tracking charms and things, that he found, so he removed that and transported Pettigrew away to a nearby location whereby he went through a full removal ritual. That's when a spell exploded from Pettigrew into Voldemort and seemingly destroyed him. The recapture operation then began and apprehended a still incapacitated Pettigrew. Well done, Albus, it seems you've done it."
"No, I haven't actually. You see, the spell I created would be similar to exorcism. What I've in fact done is to scatter the essence of Voldemort to high heavens. Hopefully, it will take him years to reform properly. No, I haven't saved anyone. I've merely bought us some time, and confirmed two separate suspicions of mine."
Everyone gained a hard look. It seemed they would have to face the threat of Voldemort again, sooner or later.
"One, Voldemort is alive. Of this we now have definite proof. Two, I have some idea of how Voldemort was able to survive even after being killed."
Lily started to make the connections quickly. "You said your spell was a sort of exorcism – does that mean Voldemort possessed somebody when he attacked us that night?"
"Close, my dear, but not quite. The spell I used works on the soul, like the Killing Curse. The one thing it has proved is that Voldemort has somehow managed to separate his soul from his body, so that in the event of his body's death, his soul would still be preserved. There are many ways to do this, and I will have to research to know which one he used. That is all I know for the moment."
Everyone was troubled by the news. It was one thing to fight a tangible enemy. It was a completely different matter to fight against something you didn't understand. Especially an enemy like Voldemort.
Suddenly, Croaker's magical transceiver began to ping loudly. He took it out and listened to the message relayed to him and promptly paled.
He turned around, still in shock and tried to process what he just heard. This was definitely going to screw up things.
Everyone looked at him anxiously, fearing what news he would tell them. Forefront on all their minds was the idea that Pettigrew had managed to escape custody.
Pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself, Croaker spoke up. "Albus, we have an issue."
He motioned for a glass of water, which was promptly given to him.
"Peter Pettigrew killed himself a few moments ago."
That was quite a bombshell to drop on them.
Ministry carrying out secret executions?
Ministry incompetence covered up?
Are we truly safe from the atrocities of the first and second wars?
He could see the titles again. This was a calamity for the relations he was trying to build up with the muggles, but he supposed he could have some way of fixing the situation.
Dumbledore almost groaned. So much clean-up to do. He looked up at the people in his office and decided that for once, having shared the details of his plans previously, they would be backing him up on this.
"All of you, I'd like to thank you for your support in this endeavour. While I admit this was not how it was supposed to work out, I am nevertheless still glad we undertook this. It has cleared up greater concerns for all of us, and I for one will not allow this to detract from—"
"This is your Greater Good principle at work, is it not, Dumbledore?"
"I beg your pardon, James?"
"I said, this is, after all, the most utilitarian approach we can have, headmaster. So forgive me for borrowing your line, but, at the risk of sounding like a hypocrite – it was for the Greater Good."
That stunned him into silence. This was unexpected. This was an insult to the memory of all of his accomplishments as a young man.
But it was not untrue.
"For now, we'll have to deal with the fallout from this, that's all, Headmaster. I'm sure this council can handle it."
"Council?"
James smirked. "Well, we have to call ourselves something, now, don't we? Can't keep meeting up like this without a proper call sign, Headmaster."
"You have your Order of the Phoenix—this'll be Council of Dragons. We have to keep watch for our future, after all."
Everyone just looked at James Potter's face with sheer disbelief, before Severus Snape smirked. "We'll need proper funding, headmaster, and a bit of political backing."
Snape's grin turned devious, and even Sirius Black began to shudder at the implications. "I know just who to contact for certain supplies."
Sirius began to understand and chipped in. "And I have some connections to supplies myself, Headmaster."
Dumbledore gave the three younger men an exasperated look.
Amelia Bones, however, smirked. "You know, Headmaster, they have a point. A second powerful network that works solely based on secrecy and is headed by a council instead of a single person."
Croaker looked at Dumbledore with a piercing gaze, an undercurrent of trepidation and excitement present in the look.
"Et tu, Algernon?"
"Well, they make good points. Consider us concerned citizens creating a council."
And thus the Council of Dragons was formed, in complete secrecy.
.oOo.
"Perfect, this is just what I needed."
Harry thanked his sister Violet for the little bit of Unicorn horn dust she gave him, no questions asked. He had, after all, stopped her from getting into trouble with their parents multiple times now, and if he needed the dust for some reason, then she trusted him.
Little Violet Potter had come to idolize her elder brother.
Violet was ushered out of his room with the excuse of needing to test a hypothesis, and she had learnt over the past few months to take him at face value due to repeated incidents of blown up potions. She quickly left him to his own devices.
Closing the door, Harry grinned. He finally had the last ingredient he needed for the summoning ritual.
After all, who better to learn about souls from than Death herself?
AN: And that's a wrap for this chapter. Next one coming up within the end of the month. Hopefully. I tend to write around a passage a day, from 1k words to 4k. Or every other day. Review please!