Updated: 3/5/2023

Fresh Start

Harry groaned and rolled onto his back. He sighed, and opened his eyes. And then his mouth. Everything was so vibrant. The blue sky was an impossible shade of azure, and the whites of the clouds overhead were unbelievably pure. The grass beneath him smelled fresh and earthy, and he felt relaxed in a way he could not ever remember.

A fresh start.

It felt as though Harry had been wading through slime and muck all his life, such was the difference. He felt invigorated. Harry knew he should be annoyed God had tossed him out, but by her own word, he could return whenever he wanted.

Harry surveyed the skyline. A large mountain range stretched far out of sight from west to southwest. To the east was a large lake, beyond which he could see only trees. He thought a castle on a mountain would be a cool project, and so made the decision to build his home atop the mountains. The decision gave him a little thrill. He could just do that. There was no one after him–he had no responsibilities.

He was wearing new clothes. Harry was glad of it; the clothes he had been wearing when he died were dirty, bloodied, ripped and worn. He had a white cotton t-shirt and jeans, sneakers, and a forest green coat. Strewn about, piles upon piles of stuff littered the ground. Mounds of bronze, piles of silver, and mountains of gold. Books in every shape and size, odd baubles and weapons and wands, piles of fabric and jewelry, furniture, assorted foodstuffs, and a million other odds and ends hung over trees and bushes and dumped in piles of dirt and grass. Right next to him, folded in a neat pile, a familiar, knobbled wand and onyx stone rested over a silvery cloak.

Groaning, Harry swept the cloak onto his shoulders. The ring he slipped on his left ring finger, and the wand he held in his right hand. A subtle squeaking call came from a pile of ugly, maroon tartan gowns. Abruptly, it caught fire. A tiny white chick emerged, ruffling her snowy plumage.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried, carefully maneuvering around the piles of priceless treasure. He scooped up the Elder Wand and flicked it, enunciating the flame-freezing charm carefully. The gowns stopped being consumed, though the fire still danced around the blackened spot.

Hedwig had been transformed into a tiny phoenix. Instead of bright red and gold feathers, Hedwig was adorned with beautiful pure white and silver feathers that gleamed in the sunlight. She clambered onto an offered finger, tilting her diminutive head up to stare into his eyes, chirping quietly. "I guess I'm not the only one to shrug off a killing curse, Hed."

Harry turned back to the piles of stuff contemplatively. It was far too much to carry without magic. He could only hope to find expanded bags like Hermione's amongst the junk, or else he'd have to leave things behind. He was about to get up when motion caught his gaze. A tiny snake had curled up from beneath a pile of sickles, raised its head, and stared at him.

Hopefully, Harry addressed the snake. §And who are you, little ssnake?§ Harry lowered his hand to the tiny serpent and let it coil around his wrist. It was maybe five inches long, barely able to wrap all the way around Harry's wrist. When the words came out serpentine, Harry wondered if it was because he had always been a parselmouth.

§I'm Blinky.§ The tiny snake's voice was so faint, it was nearly lost even in the still air.

§Blinky?§

§Yess, thatss my name. I remember you.§

Who had he met that wasn't Nagini…Harry paled. §A bassilissk?§

§Queen of sserpentss,§ Blinky agreed. §Why am I here?§

He blinked. §I'm not ssure. Do you want to sstay here or come with me?§

Harry got the impression that if serpents could shrug, Blinky would have done so. §I'll come with you, I guesss.§

"Accio, expanded bags!"

Out of the mountains of stuff, four containers flew towards Harry. One was a rainbow-striped tote bag, another was a little pouch, and two were purses. He supposed expanded bags must be rarer than he had expected. If anyone could figure it out, it would be Hermione. Harry started by stacking books in the tote bag before they could get wet or dirty. He finished with several piles before the tote bag would accept no more.

Most every book was too big to fit in the mouth of the pouch, and the purses had even more disappointing capacity than the tote. By the time he had filled all four, he had cleared most of the books in a ten-foot radius. More books splayed out beyond sight, further out than the clearing he'd landed in.

Brandishing the Elder Wand, he put a lot more force into his voice. "Accio, expanded bags!" he ordered. Dozens of bags came flying, of all shapes and sizes. He tried tents, next. Five rolls of canvas sailed across the clearing and sat in the pile of dyed, colored canvas and fabric bags.

With no clear ground to pitch the tents, Harry summoned streams of gold into the pouches. There was no way to inventory them, so he had to simply hope he could find everything again. The sky was clear and the ground was reasonably dry, but some of the books looked positively ancient. Some of the pouches held mountains of gold, others scarcely fit a few times their size. The blinged out bags and purses trended towards more capacity than the plain ones, though Harry managed to find five mokeskin pouches which each held nearly an entire mountain of galleons.

He tried not to be irritated by the task. Harry was probably the only person on earth to look at stuffing millions of fat golden coins into his bags as a chore. When he had finally cleared enough room to pitch one of the tents, he gave up on the bags and levitated entire mounds at a time through the mouth of the first tent. When it came to the books, he had an idea. Sweeping the Elder Wand in a grand arc, he called "Pack!"

The books flew into the air, snapping themselves shut and hurtling into the second tent, a gothic keep that had unfolded from a briefcase, stone bricks stacking themselves up to a terraced (if tiny) castle. Book after book after book they flew, so dense it looked to be a solid stream flowing inwards. The sound of neat stacking came from the tent, rhythmic thudding one after another. Even after the last book visible in the clearing vanished, yet more flew from the tree branches and beyond the clearing, a veritable tornado of paper that would surely have sent Madam Pince into conniptions if she'd seen. Minutes later, the last book drifted lazily beyond sight. A moment later, the banded oak doors boomed shut and the castle collapsed back into a briefcase, shivering on the trampled grass.

Of the three more tents unfilled, Harry decided he'd live in the rustic-looking one shaped like a cabin. It was a simple log cabin exterior. The inside had a split-floor design with a balcony overlooking a cozy living room and kitchen. It had three small bedrooms and a full bathroom.

"You don't look like a Black," a shrewd voice said. Harry practically jumped out of his skin.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"Over here," he snapped.

"Wow, what a useful direction," Harry snarked. He cast about for a moment, honing in on the portrait hanging over the fireplace. "Oh bollocks," he muttered. "Hello, Phineas." The notoriously awful, deceased Hogwarts headmaster looked down his nose at Harry.

"Ah, the Potter boy. Running away from the Dark Lord are you? I hadn't taken you for a coward. Still, I suppose all your useful allies have died for you. Not many left to protect you, I suppose."

"Voldemort is finished," Harry snapped hotly. "He has one horcrux left, a living thing that will age and die if nothing else, and I sacrificed my life to make everyone untouchable to him. Why aren't you in Grimmauld Place?"

"You don't look dead to me," said Phineas snidely. "And I came here for some peace and quiet from the mopey headmaster and the slovenly Travers at Grimmauld Place. Congratulations, by the way, for letting the Blacks' ancestral home be taken over, what was it? A year and a half from inheriting it."

"Yeah, well, I don't need to explain myself to you. Get out."

Phineas's grey eyes glittered with sadistic amusement. Nevertheless, he prodded on the right side of his frame. He stuck his head behind it for a moment before straightening out. "It appears someone has destroyed most of my other frames. You shall simply have to get used to my presence, Harry Potter."

Or find another tent, Harry thought viciously. He paced briskly from the cabin and flicked the Elder Wand at the briefcase. The tiny castle built itself back up, the doors swinging open. He pushed through.

A grand foyer greeted him, the picture of filthy rich aristocracy. An elaborate glass chandelier covered in magical golden flame hung from the steepled roof. Grand staircases led out of sight. The floor was glossy white marble, and every visible surface was absolutely covered in books. They stacked in piles and blocks dozens of feet high, teetering off steps and reaching from the floor to the balcony, little piles lined the walls, stacked haphazardly with their spines facing in every direction. Harry picked his way through the foyer and under the central archway. The grand ballroom was much the same, books covering every available surface and some surfaces that definitely weren't available.

"Hmph," Phineas's nasally voice harrumphed. "At least you cleared out the Black library before letting the rabble in." The hated headmaster's face peered down from an even larger frame that occupied as much as a mural. Harry growled at him.

"D'you think you could manage to be civil?" demanded Harry. Phineas did not answer, merely following along, stepping between frames to keep up with him, observing the literary invasion Harry had brought with him. Harry stalked out of the tent and eyed the many, many baubles and artifacts left strewn throughout. A cursory examination of the other two tents revealed that neither of them were suitable for long-term living. One was akin to the one he, Ron, and Hermione had been living out of; nothing more than a large empty room. The other had a camp bed and a stall with a privy, but lacked the amenities that the Black tents had. Harry resigned himself to Phineas's company and conducted every artifact he could into the empty tent. Many resisted being moved by magic.

Harry yanked his hand back from a golden astrolabe with a muffled scream. His hand felt submerged in boiling water. Strips of flesh began peeling back, bone and tendon peeking through angry red muscle. "Finite Incantatem!" he shouted, fumbling with the Elder Wand in his left hand. The flaying immediately stopped at his wrist, thick strips of his own skin dangling. Cradling it towards his chest, he growled. "Episkey," but nothing happened. Harry conjured a square of silk and scooped up the offending item, gripping the heavy gold thing through the cloth.

Stomping angrily into the cabin tent, he glared up at Phineas. "What the hell is this?"

"Why are you touching cursed artifacts with your bare hands?" he wondered mildly, in a tone that made it clear he thought Harry was an idiot. Harry dumped the astrolabe onto the couch pointedly. "Ah, Elladora's astrolabe. Nasty flaying curse, isn't it? You've caught it quickly, though. Nothing to complain about, really. Alphie Hancock lost most of his right torso to it. The healers at St. Mungo's hadn't a clue. Completely incurable," Phineas boasted with macabre cheer.

Breathing heavily, Harry brought his wand up to his hand with a wince. "Vulnera Sanentur," he poured every bit of intent in his being into the demand to fix his hand. Agonizingly, the flayed skin sewed itself back into place around his tendons and bones. All that remained were faint lines of scarring that ran from between each finger to his wrist.

The headmaster blinked. "Well, I suppose you're not a total failure, after all. Why do you have Albus's wand, boy?"

"Mine's broke," Harry muttered, fishing through the mokeskin bag at his neck. Drawing out the pieces gave him an idea. Placing the thinly connected halves of his beloved holly wand on a coffee table, he envisioned what he wanted. It came easily to him, the way his partner should look, slim, glossy, warm wood in an unbroken length, the power it evoked in his hand. "Reparo."

With a near-silent snikt, the wood was drawn together and joined seamlessly. Grinning, Harry gave it a wave. A shower of golden sparks issued forth, illuminating the living room with warm light.

"Well," Phineas said finally, "you don't see that every day."

It took several days to pack everything up. After the incident with the astrolabe, Harry used conjured tongs to handle the artifacts. Stuff ranged out for a dozen yards in all directions, caught in trees and over bushes, like someone had dropped everything from the sky. It was an eclectic mix of completely random items. Harry was sure there were some mundane items mixed in, but given his experience with the astrolabe, everything that wasn't a book or coin went into the fourth tent. He made a habit of tossing them as far into the tent as possible. The stuff tended to be charmed unbreakable.

Despite his exhaustive use of the packing charm, levitation charm, and summoning charm, many artifacts were like horcruxes; they were unaffected by his magic. Harry had to move many painting frames into the miscellaneous tent by hand. The notion crossed his mind several times over the course of his work, to simply leave stuff behind. It would be easier, so much easier. What use did he have for a thousand-odd bits and bobs, many of which were hazardous to him? But he couldn't conscience leaving behind items that might have been someone's life's work like refuse because he couldn't be bothered to pick it up. Harry spared some thought towards what he might have done if galleons were spelled against summoning. Would he have left piles of gold because he was actually too lazy to pick it up?

However he ruminated on those hypotheticals, Harry did eventually finish clearing everything he could find for a few dozen yards, which was where the piles seemed to end. Gratified that he had finished a difficult job, Harry set out to explore the brave new world.

The undergrowth crunched beneath Harry's trainers. He trudged through the forest, hungry and without food. Herbology had taught some spells to find edible plants, but overall the curriculum barely touched on mundane plants, focusing instead on the more exotic and oft lethal variety cultivated in the Hogwarts greenhouses. He had some reserve that evidently came from Grimmauld Place, but it would not last him forever. Night had fallen, revealing a vibrant and unfamiliar night sky with constellations Harry had never seen before.

A crunching sound wafted through the forest. Harry's head whipped towards it. A herd of deer cantered down a faint game trail, guiding their young along as they wobbled on coltish legs. Harry smiled at the adorable scene.

Hedwig came gliding down on unsteady wings to land on his shoulder. Harry put a fist in his mouth to stifle a laugh. Ever since her transformation, her flying had been unsteady, and it was a regular occurrence to see her crashing into trees and careening through the air as she adjusted to the body of a phoenix.

She noticed her servant trying not to laugh at her and cuffed him in the head with a snow white wing. She tottered, lost her balance, and squawked loudly as she tumbled off Harry's shoulder, crashing back first into the ground, bursting into silver flame. As the downy head of a baby phoenix poked out of the ash pile, Harry couldn't resist anymore, and fell to the ground giggling and laughing. When the baby phoenix clambered out of the ash, bobbling unsteadily on tiny claws, she trot over to him and pecked at his shoes indignantly. He bent down and lifted her to place on his shoulder, desperately trying to keep his composure, but his facial muscles rebelled, pulling his lips into a grin.

Harry took several shuddering deep breaths, looking away from Hedwig, forcing himself into a straight face.

He glanced at his shoulder and saw the tiny chick glaring at him imperiously, and promptly lost it again, dissolving into gusts of laughter. Blinky slunk around his neck and poked at her with her tail, sniffing the chick and hissing amusedly at Hedwig's awkward stilted gait. Hedwig looked offended at the baby basilisk's behavior, and hooted indignantly.

The deer herd had started to bolt at the first gale of laughter, but a stag and doe remained behind warily, watching what must have been their foal nosing at the strange human with the animals on his shoulder.

The little doe looked up at Harry with big brown eyes, the picture of innocence, sniffing and poking at him with her wet black nose. He beamed at the foal and stroked her coat gently before nudging her back to her parents. The stag glanced at him gratefully, before the trio bounded into the forest, down the trail and back to the herd.

§Thosse were very brave deer,§ Harry observed to Blinky, who had slipped most of her sinuous body under his collar for warmth. §I have a feeling being an omnivore will be harder for me now that I actually have to hunt for mysself.§

§Sspeak for yoursself, ssilly human, I sshall not be asshamed of what I musst eat. If I musst, I sshall sshare with you my killss.§ Blinky coiled up, and leapt off of his shoulder, diving gracefully to the ground. She slithered quickly across the ground despite her tiny size, sniffing the air with her head held high, before sighting a tree and coiling around the bark. In a mesmerizing dance, she ascended the tree by climbing along miniscule ledges and cracks in the bark, flowing from one shoot or branch to the next.

The leaves rustled as a brace of squirrels dashed out of the leaves, racing along the branches. Blinky hissed and opened the nictitating membranes over her eyes, glancing at each squirrel in turn before coiling up and leaping upon the last squirrel, plunging her tiny fangs into its back. The squirrels killed by her gaze fell dead to the ground as she dislodged her jaws and worked her prey down her throat, closing her mouth around the tail, swallowing a few times to move her meal along.

Letting out a contented hiss, the basilisk jabbed her tail towards the fallen squirrels. §Thosse are for you and the bird§ She hissed proudly.

Harry looked queasy for a moment at the ease at which she killed a half dozen prey animals in their habitat. It was one thing to know a basilisk could kill with a glance, it was quite another to actually see it happen. One thing was for sure, he was incredibly lucky he managed to survive a fight with her when he was twelve.

Padding over to the squirrels, Harry gathered them by the tails before clearing a section of the undergrowth. A scouring charm scrubbed the plants and snow from a five foot circle, leaving bare earth. He fired a warming charm at the dirt and sat down cross legged.

With naught but a thought and gesture, a bundle of loose firewood and kindling came racing out from the trees, stopping right in front of him. His experience on the camping trip served him well, as with deft flicks and gestures, a drying charm leeched any moisture from the wood. Poking and twirling his wand like a conductor, the wood arranged itself into a small fire he set several feet in front of him.

"Incendio" he murmured, orange flames leaping up from nothing, dancing over the surface of the wood. A thought occurred to him, and he summoned a large rock, transfiguring it smooth, and laid it near the fire so Blinky could rest in comfort.

Hedwig awkwardly dismounted his shoulder and moved towards the fire. She tottered into the fire, and let out a happy hoot, perching on the ground in the heart of the flames, turning a silvery color and radiating a sense of peace.

Harry regarded the brace of squirrels queasily. He had exactly zero experience with butchery, the only cooking he'd done over a fire was roasting marshmallows over a campfire at Hogwarts. Ironically, the inspiration for prepping the squirrels came from Death Eaters.

"Exviscera" He murmured, shivering at the feeling of the magic rushing through his arm, eagerly zipping from the Elder Wand, a dark yellow color. A neat cut opened along the stomach of the first squirrel, the organs and offal sliding grimly out of the body, piling at the foot of the fire. It must have met Hedwig's standards, because she poked her head out of the fire and gobbled up the pile of organs.

"Exdermis" Harry gulped as the pelt and skin peeled off, leaving raw muscle and skeleton.

"Brackium Emendo" He intoned, waving his wand flamboyantly around in what he thought was a fair imitation of Lockhart. The pile of muscle deflated a bit. He hoped the spell would vanish the tendons and cartilage too, he had no desire to chew through parts any butcher would have removed. Several deft cuts relieved the squirrel of its head and limbs, leaving only a bundle of raw muscle.

At Harry's direction, three straight sticks raced towards him. "Arborifors" the sticks straightened out into a spit, which he propped up over the fire. The mushrooms and herbs he had gathered went into the cut over the stomach. A gesture sealed the greens into the body, then he skewered the animal with the spit and set it to turn slowly over the fire. Most of the blood had already drained when he stuffed in the mushrooms, but his fingers were still slick with blood. A few awkward scourgifies managed to clean both his hands and wand.

The dark magic made Harry nervous. Each spell he used, he could sense the malice inherent in the spell. From the entrails expelling curse, he got a sense of animal husbandry, farming utility, before it was adopted by dark wizards, used primarily on other humans. A similar feeling came from the Flaying curse. The feel of leather, butchery and tanning, utilized only on dead animals before it was adopted by dark wizards, perverted into a gruesome curse of torture. Each time he cast the spell on each successive squirrel, he could nearly hear the screaming of the countless victims, warm blood spilling as skin slowly peeled away from frantically contracting muscles.

By the time all six squirrels were cooking, both Hedwig and Blinky had eaten their fill. Whatever viscera the phoenix didn't eat, she left in the pile. When Hedwig retreated back into the fire, Blinky lazily slinked over to the pile of skin and viscera and distended her jaw again, gorging herself on the leftovers.

Simply from the squirrel and leftovers, Blinky had grown noticeably longer and thicker, from the size of a grass snake to a moderate-sized cobra. The growth had to be magical, no creature grew that fast, and she had only just eaten for the first time an hour ago.

The smell of the cooking squirrels wafted around the clearing, a mouth watering scent. Rivulets of liquid fat dripped down the golden brown meat, hissing as it fell into the fire.

Putting the dark magic out of mind, Harry conjured a set of silverware and plates, placing a metal cover over the five remaining squirrels to keep them warm before cutting into the first squirrel. Biting into the food, he felt some sort of primitive satisfaction, one that seemed to sate his very body, the primitive act of eating.

The squirrel tasted mediocre at best. Despite the earthiness of the mushrooms, the toughness of the meat, and the blandness of the greens, the meal was viscerally satisfying, and the satisfaction immense, but it was still unseasoned, tough and gamey meat. It took endless chewing to break down. The flavor was long gone by the time he swallowed, like eating flavorless chewing gum.

§I sswear, I sshall never take a ssupermarket for granted again,§ Harry promised Blinky.

"Protego Totalum, Salvio Hexia, Cave Imicum, Repello Muggletum, Muffliato," Harry murmured, tracing the campsite in a familiar motion as he warded the clearing. He felt the instinct to continue, like what he had done was somehow incomplete, but drew a blank for what else to cast. Frowning, sat down.

The bare ground was still uncomfortable, despite the campfire and warming charm. The first night in a brave new world, Harry felt like truly camping, and forewent the tent he'd selected. He held the Elder Wand and brought his magic to the forefront of his mind, letting it pool in his wand as he thought of his desire. He wanted the dirt to be smooth and flat, dry and warm, and he wanted that state to stay overnight. The magic in his arm seemed to assent, a positive feeling he felt in his heart. Fingers crossed, he released the spell.

It took. Harry grinned widely as the magic seemed to eagerly sink into the earth, shimmering as it flattened into a perfect plane, drying into a smooth surface, warm like it was fresh out of aunt Petunia's dryer. Emboldened by his success, he did the same to Blinky's rock. Again, the magic eagerly leapt to fulfill his desire.

As he lay upon a conjured pillow stargazing, Harry thought about what today had meant. Wizards don't even understand the fundamentals of magic? Or are we simply taught a different style at Hogwarts? Even silent cast magic still used an incantation, we simply shouted it in our heads. What exactly are the limits?

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind was whirling with ideas and questions. He remembered what God had let slip: "Magic is firstly a tool of desire. All those rules and strictures and tools you place upon it cannot change the truest form of magic. When you want something enough, your power serves you."

When Harry awoke, he found the enchantment from last evening still active. The ground remained smooth and warm. Blinky's rock was the same.

Rays of the morning sun shone through the trees, dancing off dewdrops and casting brilliant patterns of sunlight across the forest. The sleepy wizard rubbed his eyes and stretched, yawning. Birds chirped over the rustle of the leaves in the breeze. The red of tree buds contrasted the verdant green of the leaves.

He hissed a good morning to Blinky, and prodded the curled up fuzzball resting in the embers of the campfire. The snakelet hissed some unintelligible dire threats while yawning sleepily, but Hedwig immediately flapped out of the ashes. It seemed her burning day had done her some good, or perhaps it was the nap in the fire.

Her feathers had lost some of the baby fuzz, and already she looked bigger than last night. The phoenix's attempts at flight were more successful. She still wobbled unsteadily on her wings, but she was able to stay aloft and circle about the clearing, cawing victoriously.

"Point me, civilization." The wand spun in his palm, facing directly towards a snow-capped mountain range. "I suppose it's as good a place as ever to start," Harry told Hedwig. Her response was a squeaky croak. "My sentiments exactly."

Jogging through the woods, Harry wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun kept its steady march through the sky, beaming down on the trio. The dense undergrowth started to give way to sparser pines and jagged rocks, gradually sloping upwards. Harry's footfalls were less sure now. He carefully watched the terrain, deftly dodging crevasses and loose stones. The further he loped ahead, the more treacherous the terrain became. Pine covered slopes transformed into snow coated ice as the gradient approached thirty degrees. Harry's pace slowed as each step felt like a lunge. Blinky curled tightly against him under his conjured jacket, shivering in the frigid mountain air.

"Damn," Harry cursed as his toe slipped on the snowy ice. His sneakers only slipped a foot, but it was enough to send his face sprawling into the snow. He worried for a second about Blinky getting crushed, but the colorful parseltongue cursing reassured him. Conjuring gloves for himself, he began to practically crawl up the mountainside. Winding around to the left from the path his wand indicated, he chanced upon a trail that spurred him onwards. Enormous paw prints loped upwards, outlining a treacherous path that snaked through the mountains, leading up to a lofty peak ahead.

"We're in business ladies," Harry rubbed his gloved hands together eagerly. Each pace crunched through the frigid snow. Despite the freezing water on his face from the fall, the ascent was much easier. He had no clue what animal the prints belonged to, but as the pursuit continued, more clues appeared. He scrambled over a snow drift that his trailblazer's belly hadn't scraped. It was about four feet tall, which he supposed meant whatever he was chasing had legs longer than four feet. Each stride was colossal, covering over fifteen feet. The footfalls crushed straight through the foot of dense snow, cracking the ice beneath. Whatever behemoth left the prints weighed several tons. Deep gouges indicated scythe-like claws, ripping through snow and ice alike.

Upon cresting the peak of the mountain he had been winding around, he caught his first glimpse of his prey's lair. Under the brilliant noon sun, the snowy peaks glistened with bright light, reflecting off each other in a blinding display of white.

The hike continued throughout the whole day as Harry navigated the treacherous mountains. The trail plunged down to valleys densely packed with pine trees, and ascended ridges and bluffs. Deeper into the mountain range, the temperature plunged below freezing. Even his conjured coat couldn't keep him properly warm. The warming charms he cast barely lasted half an hour, and even they couldn't take the edge off the bone deep chill that seemed to penetrate straight past his conjured clothes. The Elder Wand turned the coat into a winter jacket. Harry quite liked using transfiguration for properly useful stuff. Making items he needed for himself was more exciting than turning a gerbil into a hamster or whatever inane thing McGonagall assigned for the day.

Harry worried about Blinky, who'd gone silent a while back. Before, she'd complained loudly and colorfully about the atrocious weather, cursing him out for embarking on a foolish endeavor, and describing in painful detail how stupid the foolish wizard must be to embark on a 'Godric-esque' quest, and perhaps if he was so desperate to die, he'd like for her to simply bite him and be done with it. The creative and anatomically intimate cursing had amused Harry for hours before she fell silent, and now he almost wished she'd go back to describing all the disgusting things his ancestors must have done to come up with an idiot like him. Now, the only thing he heard besides the occasional flap of Hedwig's wings was the howling wind, roaring through the mountains.

The sun was starting to set. Already, the frigid temperature began to drop further as the sun cast ever-lengthening shadows across the alps. The path, which was merely extremely difficult, became nigh impassable in the low light. The frigid dry snow had long since seeped into his footwear. Frostbite chewed at his fingers and toes, numbing his extremities despite the overpowered warming charms he kept casting. Abandoning the trail for the night, Harry skidded down a sheer ridge into a forested valley.

He had to work quickly. If the trail he was following was any indication, the predators in this mountain range were far beyond anything he'd seen back home. Harry put some serious power behind the wards that night. It was too cold to camp outside, so Harry braved the tent for the first night.

Shutting the door firmly behind him, he flicked his wand at the hearth and sank into the couch, luxuriating in the warm fire. "Am I to assume you'll be inflicting your presence upon me often?" Phineas wondered.

"Yeah," murmured Harry. "We're in a new dimension, and I've not got any housing yet."

Phineas sighed in a very put-upon manner. "No Black, no matter how tenuously related, ought to be homeless. Have you really no options? Surely you haven't been so stupid as to make enough enemies to be on the run already."

Harry sighed. "I have boatloads of gold, I just haven't found any other humans, yet. I'm moving towards 'civilization,'" he made air quotes. Blinky curled up on the arm of the couch. The flames suddenly flared silver. Hedwig had managed to perch on the brackets for the enchanted, everburning logs.

"There is a snake on the couch," Phineas observed.

"She's Slytherin's monster," agreed Harry. §Like it, here?§ Blinky wiggled shrug-like.

"To think the first Black to be a parselmouth in centuries is a half-blood. You'll clean up after the thing," he said severely.

"Yes, professor." The man seemed slightly mollified by the term of address. Harry kept it in mind for when he needed his cooperation.

Harry selected a bedroom at random. The end table had a few bits of jewelry in the top drawer, and the closet had a few musty sets of robes, but the bed was clean and made up with a nearly black navy quilt covered in twinkling constellations that drifted over the fabric. He kicked off his shoes, shut the thin wooden door, and clambered in.