To Ride the Carousel Again
Inspired by, and loosely follows, Reptilia28's Challenge
Time Travel and therefore an Alternate Universe (AU) story
Chapter 2
The Why and the Send Back
If you have read any stories of this genre,
you know this chapter of explanation has to be written.
It's part of this challenge.
Approx, 8,700 words
/*
As the present returned to Harry's consciousness, he realized he was on his hands and knees, weeping as his mind repeated ran through variations of "I died! I'm dead!"
Keeping his eyes tightly closed in denial, he whimpered "Just like Cedric, I wasn't supposed to die. I thought I had escaped. I wasn't ready. I'm not ready!"
He continued collapsing, rolling down onto one hip. A thought intruded. He had seen the horror on Cedric's face. "I wonder if I looked just as horrified?"
Harry lay there, on the white surface, with all the terrible things that had happened to him that night skittering in non-stop circles in his head.
"Young man, old man, whatever you are, you must get up! I have to take you to Processing! Please get up. Time is running out. Until we get to the Center, whenever your return time is, it keeps getting shorter and shorter. We have to hurry!"
A mind-slugged Harry was in no condition to think or act rationally. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hope that it was all a nightmare and would go away.
"Please get up. Look all I want to do is get you to Processing and get someone with more authority to take over. You're not supposed to be here. Get up, please. I don't know why you register as still being alive when my download told me you are dead. I don't know why you were not sent to Soul Determination. This isn't my job now, I just want to get you to Processing, finish my shift and go home!"
Harry vaguely noticed the urgency in her voice seemed real.
He felt a tug on his arm followed by a scream of pain from his red-garbed companion.
"Get up! I can't touch you, so I can't lift you up," the young-sounding woman's voice kept harping at him.
Oddly, that particular part of her pleadings got through to Harry. "Why can't she touch me?" he thought.
Levering himself up on his hands, he used a sleeve to wipe his eyes and the snot from his nose. He finally looked up at the woman? girl? who had not stopped begging him to get up because they had to go?
Harry peered up at the eyes he could not see because of the mirrored sunglasses.
"Why ca . . ." Harry's voice failed him.
He swallowed hard and started again. "Why can't you touch me?"
A thought shot through him. "I'm getting like Hermione. Asking questions about everything."
"Because you're still alive, and I'm dead, and if I touch you it hurts. Really, really hurts," she ranted.
Harry stared up at her, his eyeballs bulging and his jaw dropping.
"But I'm dead too," he said with a voice that had a definite quaver to it."
"No, you're not." she volleyed back. "My data was just updated and you have been redesignated a Soul to be Returned."
"What in Merlin's Hells is a 'soul to be returned'?" he managed to blurt out.
"I'm not sure how it works. I'm just a greeter. Can we please, please go? The longer you wait, the shorter becomes the time to send you back, then they blame me for not working, and my time here gets lengthened as punishment."
Harry opened his mouth to ask how long she had been there, then closed it. He was so tired of people demanding that he tell them everything about his life. He did not want to become one of 'them'.
Harry rolled onto his hands and knees and then carefully stood up. He was surprised to not feel the pain and the tremors that had been coursing through him in Moody's office. In fact, once he stood up, he felt better than he had since he was entered into that accursed tournament.
Harry deliberately kept his arms at his side. He did not want to inadvertently touch the girl in front of him and find out she was telling the truth.
As soon as he was standing the girl started rapidly walking towards a building Harry had noticed off to his left. Harry looked at the shining mountain off to his right. Apparently, they were not going there.
"Wonder if Mum and Dad went there?"
Harry's instinctive flinch as she thoughtlessly made to reach for him to hurry him along was all that saved her from a painful incident.
"If her story was true," he thought.
It was only about a hundred-some yard to a small white stone and glass, three-story, modern office-looking building that had one peculiarity. The upper right corner seemed to waver in its solidity before snapping back whole. As he looked closer, he thought he saw the same corner melt away slightly before reappearing solid again.
As they hurriedly walked the short distance, the red-garbed young . . woman? kept urging him to hasten, not dawdle, to walk faster, as she literally scurried around him.
She wrenched the building door open, and then almost touched Harry as she instinctively nearly pushed him inwards before stopping herself.
Harry stopped cold as he took in the massive crowd of people in lines separated by white velveteen ropes shuffling forward towards some vague opening in the far wall.
His escort managed to direct him, without touching him, through a thick black rope she opened, and led him towards a small desk sitting off to the left side.
He assumed it was a reception desk, as a little black with white lettering sign resting on its surface said 'Reception'. And there was a young brown-haired woman, who for some reason seemed older to Harry than she looked, seated behind the desk.
"I've done my bit, note in the ledger that I have delivered this Soul Returnee to you as fast as possible," Harry's usher demanded.
The seated woman made a show of picking up a maroon and buff cloth-bound ledger book, opened it, and with a moistened finger turned some pages to the one she was obviously looking for. She then slowly pulled a fancy fountain pen from loops on its spine and made a show of making a notation on the page.
Placing the book back on its spot, she looked up at Harry's escort and said, "There. Satisfied?"
Harry watched her lips thin as the sunglass' wearing girl was obviously reining in her temper. "Yes," she muttered, spun on her booted heel, and stalked away to the door.
Harry was looking at the receptionist like she had grown an extra head.
The dark-haired woman frowned at Harry's expression.
"Young man, that woman has her particular job as part of her penance. At some point, it will be decided that her probation is done and she will either move up to Elysium or be consigned to the Pit for eternity."
Harry's mind was still in its 'stunned' setting. He merely kept staring at the woman seated in front of him.
The woman deflated a bit with a sigh. "If you have a chance to read any muggle history, look up Countess Elizabeth Bathory. (1) That young woman, Magda, was one of her handmaidens, and served as a Judas Goat in persuading innocent maidens to come to the Countess' fortress for a life of luxury."
"The countess was what you call a squib, and she was obsessed with gaining magic. She tried many rituals to obtain the magic she believed she deserved. Bathing in the blood of innocent girls was one of the methods she tried."
The woman's mouth quirked to one side. "After a couple of years, Magda's conscience made her try to escape. Tried is the operative word. Bathory personally blinded her with red-hot irons. Then she was turned over to be used and abused by the soldiers of the castle until she died. She had just enough atonement in her soul when she died, that she was not sent to the Pit immediately."
The two were silent for a moment, looking at each other, but not seeing each other.
"ANNIKA!" roared a voice out of nowhere.
Both of them jumped at the roar.
"Potter's back! Again! When he arrives, get him up here yesterday! The universe of his timeline is already starting to unravel! Our building is actually decaying!"
The pair stared at each other for a moment. Harry in confusion, the woman in fear.
"Come," she said, grabbing him by the arm and towing him at a run up the stairway suddenly open before them.
"Where are we goi . . ." A tug on his arm.
"What's hap . . ." Harder tug on his arm.
"DAMN IT! Let go of me! I'm not going another step."
All the pain, all the confusion of the last year, all the pressure culminating in Cedric's and then his death finally exploded in Harry's mind.
All the ridicule and abuse through the school year, the mind screaming danger of the Tri-Wizard tasks, and the pain. The pain of Cedric dying, the pain of Voldemort touching him, the pain of the Crutiatus Curse's, and finally the pain of his own death.
Harry blew.
Yanking his arm out of her hand, he stood there hunched against the blows he expected to rain on him.
"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me just where the hell I am, and who the hell are you people!" His voice had cracked halfway through his defiant outburst making him cringe even more.
Suddenly, with a finger snap just like Dobby had used, he was floating in mid-air. Surprised, he started flailing around, but that was restricted. His arm and leg movements felt like he was stretching against rubber bands that kept him from moving fast or far.
While he concentrated on fighting his predicament, Harry did not notice he was being floated up the stairs, down a hallway and was deposited in front of a door where his flailing suddenly banged him into the door. He bounced back and fell on his arse with a thump.
He was in this undignified position, trying to stand when the door opened suddenly.
When he was younger, Harry had sometimes been able to read some of Dudley's discarded comic books and immediately thought that except for the skin colour, the Hulk had come to life.
"I am not happy to see you, Mister Potter. This means that you have failed once again to stay alive and fulfill your destiny." The hulk's voice was as deep as a canyon and as cold as a dementor.
Harry's temper and mad-at-everything attitude vanished in an instant. Hermione had sometimes said that she wasn't sure Harry had a survival instinct. The mammoth man mountain, who looked to be bigger and tougher than Hagrid, proved her wrong.
His skin looked like deeply tanned human skin, and his muscles were piled on top of other muscles. Except for his size, the only non-human parts were his hair which constantly shifted from light blue, to yellow, to red as though it was a hot gas fire and his eyes which definitely had red and yellow irises of fire.
Even the shiny white shorts and singlet (2) looking thing he was wearing looked human.
He lowered a hand down to Harry. When Harry grasped it, he was effortlessly raised up to his feet.
"Come now, Mister Potter, we have much to do, and unlike most time around here, we have little time available."
He looked over Harry's shoulder. "Annika, please stay. I will need a runner in order to get all the appropriate forms signed while I get all this explained to Mister Potter and get his consent."
With a thirty-pound, ham-sized hand planted against his back, Harry was ushered through the doorway and encouraged to sit in a surprisingly comfortable white chintz with red flowers armchair.
"Are those lilies?" Harry wondered. He was not sure. Lilies were the one flower his Aunt Petunia refused to have in her garden.
Muscles Man was rummaging through several oversize file drawers and with surprising delicacy, pulling several papers out and stacking them on his desk.
He double-checked several form-like papers and handed them to Annika.
"Please get the appropriate offices to sign off on these forms. Tell them that this is an Omega Four exigency, and get them back here immediately. You do realize how urgent this is, correct?"
The voice from behind Harry actually squeaked as she answered in the affirmative, spun and hurried out the doorway.
Man Mountain sat in an appropriate-sized chair behind the light grey desk. He steepled his fingers under his chin as he unblinkingly regarded Harry.
Just as Harry, intimidated or not, was about to erupt, the large being began to speak. Harry was surprised at how pleasant he sounded.
"Mister Potter, please listen without interruption. The more questions you ask, the more tangents we wander down, the longer this whole thing will take. I will explain everything I think is important to you. No matter how fantastical or unbelievable I sound, everything I will tell you is the truth. I am not that white-whiskered old fool you revere. Do you understand?"
Harry merely nodded, gripping the arms of the chair tighter in his anger. Who was this monster to talk about Professor Dumbledore that way? Hadn't he seen how the Headmaster had always helped him? How he was charging to rescue him at the end of his troubles?
He was afraid that if he started he would lose it and start yelling and screaming at the giant across from him. The woman had handled him like a toddler having a tantrum. Man Mountain could probably squash Harry's head between his thumb and forefinger.
"My name is Erzelkendis. I am your Grim Reaper." He paused as Harry looked to interrupt, and waved a huge finger at him. "Uh-uh, Mister Potter. No interruptions."
"For the vast number of beings, they are born, live out their lives, and at death, their Grim Reaper collects them for judgment. Zip, bang, zoom, and done."
Erzelkendis gusted a sigh that blew Harry's hair back. "This building is for Soul Judgement. This is where if your soul has not been completely on one side of the ledger you are judged, and sent to the appropriate reward you have earned according to how you lived your life, your beliefs, and/or religion. Those were all the people standing in the to-be-judged lines you saw when you entered the building."
Another pause and raised eyebrows at Harry, who nodded his understanding.
"Now, this little corner is where we watch over and try to keep alive the souls that Fate and Destiny have decreed to be invaluable for the health of their respective worlds and dimensions. And YOU MISTER POTT . . "
Erzelkendis broke off his increasing, nearing deafening, volume and with visible effort reined in his temper.
"Sorry, Mister Potter," he said to the cringing Harry. 'But you have become a . . vexation."
"A what?" Harry managed to mutter.
"A vexation. That means you, Mister Potter, are a trial upon my soul, and a stain on my record. I don't know if I will survive this last screw-up of yours and keep my Grim Reaper position, but I really do not want to be sent to a Reintegration Squad or a Destroyed Worlds Soul Sorting and Maintenance. Dee-Double U-Ess-Ess and Emm is the worst."
"You have no idea how tough it is to counsel the souls of beings whose whole world disappeared in nuclear fire within a few minutes? That dimension where Earth was destroyed in Nineteen Sixty-One was a nightmare."
Erzelkendis glared at Harry with his best intimidation and threatening look.
"Probably practices it in front of a mirror," thought Harry grumpily.
"Which I do NOT intend to have to do again for your dimension."
"Huh? How in hell am I supposed to explode an atomic bomb?" he thought. "And I wasn't even alive in nineteen sixty-one."
Harry wanted at that moment to be anywhere else but in that chair, facing an obviously very upset, large being.
"Now, you have been decreed by Fate to be the person whose destiny is to keep your worldly dimension from being taken over by the so-called Lord Voldemort, who was born as Tom Rid . . Excuse me, Mister Potter, I forgot that you actually already know him by his birth name."
"Anyway," Erzelkendis picked up his story while he sorted a file thicker than a book Hermione would have considered light reading. "Being Fated and Destined as such, you were given seven chances at reversing death and continuing on your quest."
"You, Mister Potter have died, dee-eye-eee-dee, died, seven times in less than fifteen years. Tell me, did it feel good or something? You have died more times than the previous record holder." Big hands shuffled through some papers before pausing. "Some guy named El Cid. And even then his followers used his body as a totem to create a victory in his last battle." (3)
"Seven times?" Harry squeaked. He didn't care how unmanly he sounded at the moment. He was frantically looking over his body as though it would show evidence of his deaths.
"Yes, seven times. That's all that is allowed. For those of you gifted with extra chances at life, on your seventh death, your soul is supposed to be permanently terminated. But I now see how you've slipped through a never before used loophole. And I will use that loophole to send you back where you will make one last attempt to prevent the utter destruction of your world."
"Seven times," he said, looking like Snape did after Harry failed brewing a potion. "Shall I enumerate them for you?"
Harry's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound emerged.
"I'll take your silence as a yes. The first time was when you were eight. You were slow that morning from lack of sleep from your uncle's beating the night before as you left the water closet, and didn't see your cousin's fist coming. You smashed your temple into the corner of the stair rail as you fell. You died from bleeding in the brain in less than five minutes."
Harry frowned as he remembered that day. Dudley's fist had sent him careening down the steps and he had almost broken his arm when he hit the floor. Aunt Petunia had yelled at him for bleeding on her floor.
"We had to reset your life by five minutes until you were awake enough to almost dodge your ham-fisted cousin.
"Next," the huge green man continued. "Voldemort, or actually Quirrell, killed you in the Forbidden Forest that night that foolish old woman let the Gamekeeper take you there. That one took having to stall you and the blond coward for ten minutes to get the centaur into position to save you."
"Third. Do you know how messy it is to have to reintegrate a body that has been stabbed by a poisonous fang, bitten in two, and then swallowed by a giant snake? THAT took some work by the lads over in the revivification department, let me tell you. They cursed your name for weeks."
"And you were not on my favorites list due to the concessions I had to make to the Phoenix plane in order to get them to persuade the Phoenix of He-Who-Thinks-He-is-the-Worlds-Greatest-Manipulator to save your life.
Harry looked down at the floor feeling ill. He raised his eyes just as Erzelkendis' face morphed from fake jolly to thunderously upset.
"That," he ground out, "was the first time I was graced with a visit from Higher Management. Due to it being your third death, and your importance to that part of the dimensional universe, they showed up to impress upon me that your constant dying was a black mark on my record. I was also informed they would be keeping close eyes on me. Some of them have up to nine eyes. Do you have any idea how creepy that is? And my ass had chew marks on it for cycles."
"Are you starting to have a smidgeon of understanding of just what a trial attempting to keep you alive is?"
Harry had no idea what to say.
"Sorry?" he mumbled.
"Then you became what your world calls a teenager. And teenagers are thoughtless risk-takers. Remember how your thoughtless chase of that little winged ball ended with you over eleven hundred feet in the air when you fell off your broom due to the dementors?"
"But Professor Dumbledore caught me! He used a spell that slowed me down and I was barely hurt!" Harry blurted.
"Why yes, yes he did," Erzelkendis said pursing his lips and looking thoughtful.
Harry felt a sickening premonition.
Suddenly the Reaper leaned forward, frustration rolling off him in waves. "The second time he did. After we reset the timeline so he was paying attention to the game instead of politicking with some invited Ministry department heads in his special stadium seating box!"
Hulk Mountain shifted to looking thoughtful again.
"You looked almost peaceful lying in your water-filled crater despite having broken every bone in your body."
Harry almost puked.
He glared at Harry. "That was your number four death."
"The fifth. The feather-brained, part-horse was too late to rescue you and your friend. The werewolf tore you and one of your True Friends to pieces. Very messy and very painful. Try to take better care of her from now on.
"Wha . .? Who? What? Oh!"
"Number six occurred only a few months ago. Once again you managed to get bitten in two. This time instead of being poisoned, you were fire-roasted first."
"And let me tell you that the reintegration squad was making nasty noises about having to get parts of you out of a large carnivorous animal's stomach for the second time. They were upset and it took some actual threats to make them do their job."
Erzelkendis thunderously stared at Harry for a nervous making moment.
"And finally, we have your murder at the end of that stupid tournament. I'd bet that shocked that meddlesome, old bumbling fool. He gave that Death Eater, polyjuiced as his old friend, lots of freedom hoping that Crouch Junior would lead him to the weak Voldemort that the fool planned to kill for the Glory of the Greater Good. His own glory actually. The mendacious fool was absolutely convinced that the prophecy meant that you and Voldemort were the only ones who could kill each other unless the other had died."
Harry jumped in, "Why do you keep calling the Headmaster a meddlesome fool? He's helped me loads! Without him, I'd probably be dea . . d."
Harry just stared, forgetting to close his mouth.
Erzelkendis leaned back and almost seemed to smile.
"Hogwarts. The safest place in wizarding Britain," he rumbled. "Yet it has almost killed you ten, maybe twelve times? Aa-nn-d, actually killed you seven, oops, my bad, only six times."
He looked at Harry quizzically. "Tell me, what kind of Bedlam house is your esteemed Headmaster running?"
A staring contest seemed to develop.
Actually, Harry was not trying to out-stare Erzelkendis. He was lost in his thoughts and the flame-eyed, tan-skinned being was in front of him.
Dumbledore had gotten him away from his hated relatives for ten months of the year. Harry owed him, "Didn't he?"
"Wait a minute, Professor Dumbledore had nothing to do with getting me to Hogwarts. When he sent Hagrid to take me to Diagon Alley, I remember Hagrid said I'd been put on the list for Hogwarts by my parents right after I was born. Of course, then Hagrid forgot to tell me how to get on the Express.
Yeah, but he makes me go back to Durzkaban every summer holiday. Why? He always dodges making an answer when I ask him. Why does he, I mean he's only my Headmaster, get to tell me where to live during Holiday?"
"Big and Ugly here has a point," Harry thought to himself. "Even Hermione has started to mention how all the bad 'coincidences' seem to occur to me. Even if she and Ron always, or used to, hop right up and charge with me as I got in trouble. I don't go looking for trouble. Why don't the other three hundred kids have trouble finding them as much as it finds me?"
"Except Ginny of course. That wasn't her fault."
Erzelkendis cleared his throat. "By the way, if you are the Boy of Prophecy, destined to square off against Riddle in a Sorcerer's Death Match, why didn't your esteemed Headmaster, the man who tells everybody he is your magical guardian, get you any special training? Have you been taught any special spells, or had special tutors that might keep you alive during your fated Duel-of-the-Century? Hmmm?
"Oh, and Mr. Potter, do not stare Mr. Big Ego Dumbledore or Snape the Stalker in the eye. That is how they read your mind. Avoid that silly little twinkle the head idiot has that draws you to look him in the eye, and stop trying to show how tough you are by staring back at Snape when he's tormenting you."
"A bit of advice. Meeting your Account Manager at Gringotts will be most useful. The goblins will not be friendly, they will not 'like' you, but if you make it in their interest, they can be very helpful."
"To continue, Mister Potter, we've had most of this conversation before. However, because you don't remember us speaking to each other, exactly where we are now, does not mean they did not occur the last five times."
"As much as I would like to continue with our chat, we are under considerable time pressure. Your assumed, sort-of-death this time is changing the Temporal Fate Stream so much that its decay is reaching even into this dimension. There are parts of this building that as we speak are disintegrating due to the stress of the Dimensional Time Stream shift."
Harry rose out of his introspection. "Huh?"
"I've been getting reports that this last death has created much greater problems than foreseen. Therefore, we are in a hurry."
He handed Harry a thin sheaf of paper pages that had printing on them and said, "We need to get down to the Hall of Returns. Now."
"Read those papers on the way, and try to memorize them as much as possible. When you leave us, you will not be able to take them with you. If you have not read it, or you fail to remember it, whatever it is will disappear from your memory."
Erzelkendis guided Harry around the desk and into a hallway behind the office. They quickly walked down to another room that had a large piece of silvery equipment in it, and a round white table with four white chairs.
Hulk Mountain pointed to the table.
"Sit and study. You have only a few minutes. Remember, what you forget after reading or don't read about, you will not have to help you on your return. Don't get bogged down in all that other stuff that doesn't relate to killing Riddle."
The Great Muscled Monster, as Harry decided to think of him now, crossed over to a large wraparound desk with a bunch of electrical-looking stuff that Harry has no idea of its purpose, and with surprising delicacy started pushing buttons and flipping switches.
Harry started reading the machine-printed sheets.
Harald (Harry) James Potter
Son of James Charlus Potter
and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans
Born July 31, 1980
"My real name is Harald? What the . . ?"
Harry just stared at the printing.
Special Magical Abilities:
Parsel Language
"Now what?"
Does this mean that the reason I can talk to snakes
is because of my parentage? Not from the scar Riddle gave me?"
Blocked Magical Abilities:
Friend to Animals (Maternal)
What's a Friend to Animals?
Partial Metamorphagus
"What's a metamorphagus?"
Magical Power, 60 percent blocked
"A block? I have over half my magic power blocked?
Merlin be damned, how did that happen?".
/*
Liabilities to the Full Potential of Client:
Mail re-direction ward.
"I know what that seems like, but what does it do?"
Tracking charms on personal belongings
"Huh? Who would do this to me? Where are they?"
An illegal blood-based Tracking Charm has been placed on Client
"I don't know what this is, but Hermione will tell me."
Maybe the answers were on the next page. Which he flipped to.
Tom Marvolo Riddle
Also known as self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort
"No, really? Thought that was a 'die after finding out' secret."
Born December 31, 1926
Death, Unknown.
(Prophecy interference, Horcruxes interference.)
"Prophecy? Is that what I think it is?"
Attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
September 1, 1938, to June 29, 1945.
Head Boy.
Cup for Special Services to the school Award, 1943
"Yeah, I know, Ron talked about polishing it.
Maybe with some smarts, I can get Hagrid his wand back?"
Known Horcruxes:
"What the hell is a horcruxes?"
Possessed Diary. Dark green with initials, upper right corner.
In possession of Lucius Malfoy.
"Diary? Is that what the diary that possessed Ginny was? A horcruxes?"
"Is that what a horcruxes does? Turns you to the Dark?"
House of Gaunt, Head of House Ring. Last Gaunt residence.
Locket of Lord Slytherin. Gold with green jade 'S'. Black residence.
Can Sirius help? But what can I tell him?
Cup of Helga Hufflepuff. Gold, goblet shaped. Decorated with badgers. Gringotts.
Diadem of Ravenclaw. Gemmed diadem with very large sapphire. Hogwarts.
/*
Detached Soul Fragment:
Maintained in container Harald J. Potter. Removal recommended.
Shard will allow Riddle to access, and influence, HPotter's thoughts.
Fragment will kill container via magical and life force drain if TRiddle is killed after
all other Horcruxes are destroyed.
"Kill the container? But that's me!"
Harry stared at the last sentence, shocked to his core. Did this mean he had a bit of Voldemort in him? "Oh, yeah. Parseltongue. No, that was maybe from his parents. Now where would? . . ."
"My scar!" he thought as he slapped his hand over his forehead as though to keep it from exploding or attacking him or something.
The paper's words were getting blurry as he unconsciously started panting as a prelude to a full-blown panic attack.
"I have, had? a piece of Voldemort's soul in me?" Harry's gibbering thought was barely coherent. "Merlin, if anybody found out and blabbed, the Ministry would probably kill me to get rid of it. I've seen how corrupt Fudge is, and since Malfoy and his gold are such good friends of Fudge, it would be the perfect excuse to kill me. Hell, he'd probably let Draco parade my head around Slytherin House."
"POTTER! We don't have time for your angst and self-pity. Now study those papers or you'll end up being sent to a very uncomfortable place when you get murdered again!" came the bassoon voice of Erzelkendis.
"FUCK YOU!" An overwhelmed Harry flung back. "Why didn't you tell me about the, the . . Soul Fragment or the blocks on my magic power any of the other times? Of course I keep getting killed! I've got part of Voldemort in my head, and somehow I can't use half my magic power! Are you people crazy? My best friend told me that repeatedly doing the exact same thing, time after time, expecting different results was a classic sign of insanity!"
Silent pause from in back of him. A lo-o-ng pause.
"Keep reading," came the growl back. "I have to get this exactly right or you will end up only the Great Ones know where in the time stream."
Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the larger-than-Hagrid man had already returned to his . . whatever he was doing.
With a grimace, Harry returned to the papers.
/*
Soul Commission Return and Placement Service recommendations for:
Harald James Potter
Recommendation 1.
Learn magical Art of Occlumency.
Defense against mind reading (Legilimency) by ADumbledore and SSnape.
If they find HPotter to be a Soul Revived Returnee he will
be forced to reveal, and then Obliviated of, all future knowledge.
"What the hell? Snivellus and Dumbledore have been reading my mind?
"So, that's how that bastard knows just which of my buttons to push
when he's riding me in class."
"But,
why shouldn't the Headmaster want to know what's going to happen and stop it?"
Harry sat and stewed for a few moments.
Recommendation 2.
Claim inheritance of being Lord Potter at Gringotts.
Claiming the Lordship of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter
will grant him his Head of House ring.
Head of House ring will provide some protection
from SSnape and ADumbledore mind reading.
"Lord Potter? I'm a Lord? How in hell did that happen?"
"Do I get a castle or somethin'?"
"Some place I can live? Away from Durzkaban?"
Remembrance of those wonderful three weeks in Diagon Alley in his previous life flooded through him.
Recommendation 3.
Remove Soul Fragment from scar.
"Gee, great advice there, guys. Doesn't everybody want to keep part
of a Dark Lord in their head? The splitting headaches whenever he's near are
just a thrill in themselves."
Preliminary bonding with Soul Mate via osculation will cause removal.
A knowledgeable magical cursebreaker can also remove the fragment.
"Wait, What?"
"Bonding? Soul Mate? What the hell is osculation?
Cursebreaking? What the fu . . "
Recommendation 4.
Destroy all horcruxes prior to allowing TRiddle
to regain a solid body. Stress to HPotter that TRiddle must have corporeal body
before execution to allow for soul to pass to us for Final Judgement.
"So, Tommy can't be sent to hell without these horcruxes thingies being
destroyed?"
"What in hell are these things?"
Recommendation 5.
Expand number of friendships and allies.
Impress upon Mister Potter that he should not try to save the world all by himself.
"This one is going to be tougher than it sounds. I remember all too well how many
of my classmates turned against me in Second Year and again after that
thrice be-damned goblet spit my name out"
"Wankers. Every bloody one of them."
The freeing of Godfather Sirius Orion Black would be very useful.
"No shite. Another way I could get away from oh-so-loving relatives."
The freeing and re-bonding of the House Elf known as Dobby
will be very helpful to the Returnee.
"Great. First, he almost gets me killed by Uncle Vernon
Then he almost kills me on the Quidditch pitch."
"But he did get me the gillyweed that let me
compete in the second task."
"Possibly, the little ratbag would be useful to have around."
"Maybe if I lay some groundwork with Hermione, she won't kill me
for having enslaved Dobby. SPEW could show up early."
Removal from Returnee body of long-term wit dulling potion and
curiosity suppression charm is allowed before return.
"Oh, shite. Does that mean what I think it means?"
"I'm going to have to let Hermione know."
"Maybe she could tell me I'm wrong?"
Stress to the Returnee that seven deaths are the maximum allowed, and
leads to Soul Destruction upon seventh death.
i.e. No afterlife allowed.
"Does this mean no meeting my parents if . . ."
"The rules that run this place suck!"
The recommendations as put forth in these documents are deemed
accurate and in compliance of
Elysia-Infernal Pacts numbered ~ 104, 453, 687 and 797~
As regards Temporal Travel Adjustment for Adjudged Soul Returnees.
Attested by:
C. Hammurabi
G. Solon
C. Justinian
W. Blackstone
"Who the hell are these clowns?"
"Done," came the rumble of Erzelkendis' voice. "As soon as the paperwork gets here and you sign it, we will send you back as far as the collapsing Time Stream allows."
"Any last questions?"
Harry was desperately trying to bring his whirling thoughts under control. Oh, how he wished Hermione was here. She would know what questions to ask. He was becoming scared that by not asking the right questions, he would miss something really important.
"What are the Infernal Pacts?"
Erzelkendis actually stared at Harry goggle-eyed. "All the problems you have and that is what you ask?"
Harry just stared back. He was not sure if he was actually curious or if he was channeling Hermione because it was such a Hermione question to ask. Desperate, life-threatening, soul returning, messing with time trouble, and she would want to know why now.
"Why this time do I finally get some help? Why not before? Maybe they are insane."
Harry grimaced while keeping up his staring contest with the Man Mountain. "Great. Someday I'm going to report to Hermione (4) that the cosmos is run by beings crazier than the Tri-Wizard committee."
Erzelkendis snorted and shook his head. "Very well. The pacts are beyond ancient in history. They are far, far older than wizard-kind on your world. They literally state that we, the Good Types, and them, the Bad Beings, will not interfere directly with the sentient beings on a planet's surface, sub-surface, or planetary atmosphere. To break the Pacts means open warfare between the Guardians of Elysia and the Demons of, and the controllers of, well, literally Hell."
"Should open warfare return, we would lose the beings of many worlds in multiple universes, as their worlds would be scoured down to bedrock instantly during any fighting."
"The best explanation I can give is we are involved across the universes in a giant game of Go.(5) If you want an explanation of the strategy of what I am talking about get either," he paused, obviously having to recall something. "Su Li or the Chang girl to explain the purpose to you."
"Vastly over-simplified, the more worlds we turn to the Light, the more, and easier, it is to influence the desired outcome on the same worlds in other nearby dimensions. Unfortunately, it also works the same for the Dark-side."(6)
Erzelkendis' eyes took on an intenseness that had them starting to glow. "The Dark may not have broken the Pact when they had a minor minion slip knowledge of some long-buried, arcane magic to your version of wizard Riddle, but they bent it enough for us to bend it right back. Hence this opportunity for you."
When Harry noticed that the being was lost in his fervor, he bitterly exclaimed, "So that's all this is to you? A game? And I am one of your pawns? I've been sacrificed six or seven times, and you still can't get it right. How in hell do you expect a pawn to checkmate a Dark king?"
The large being refocused his look back on Harry. "Mister Potter, we do not look upon you as a pawn in some giant multi-universe chess game. In fact, I deliberately did not use your world's game of chess as an analogy for that very reason."
At that moment they were interrupted by Annika barging into the room with a pile of papers. "Next time you send me off to beg for something to be done by Upper Management, I'm going to strip you to component parts and send you to the Seventh Circle until you can reconstitute yourself."
The large humanoid glared at her.
"Oh, they took pity on you," she continued with a smirk. "They hardly complained about kicking the time ratio up to Omega Four status. We should feel the difference about . . now."
The three of them suddenly felt as though an all-encompassing weight had suddenly surrounded them, trying to compress them under its mass.
In spite of obviously looking uncomfortable at whatever had occurred, the pair of non-human denizens in the room looked relieved.
"Okay," Harry spoke up. "Will someone explain what just happened?"
"What happened Mister Potter is that Upper Management agreed that we were in an emergency where literally minutes count, and slowed our relative time to your universe reality giving us more of an interval to solve the predicament your supposed dying for the seventh time has created," was the very large man's reply.
"It makes everyone feel uncomfortable, so its usage is rare It also tips off everyone that something very, very important is occurring. And the Daemons of Hel do have spies," he continued.
"I have configured the return system to place you back during the summer before your second year at that madhouse you attend that is laughingly called the premier school of magic, and safest place, in magical Britain."
Harry had to fight down his rising panic. "Okay, I get you think Hogwarts is a joke, but why are you sending me back to the summer when my oh-so-beloved relatives imprisoned me in my room, almost starving Hedwig and myself to death. And it was Dobby's fault! If the Weasleys hadn't rescued me, the two of us might have died!"
"One," Erzelkendis' forefinger arose, "Because you need to have that house-elf meet you. You really have little idea as to how powerful those little creatures are, and how helpful to you they can be. Getting him freed from the disgusting humans that possess him now would be a great mercy to him and a tremendous boon to you."
"Two, basilisk venom is one of the few methods of destroying a Horcrux. Remember there are five of them on your list? Remember how you 'killed' the diary? A venom-impregnated goblin forged blade will work also. Any idea where to get one of those?" Hagrid's cleaner-cut, much larger brother, (except for the fiery hair and eyes thing) now wore a huge smirk.
"Oh," thought Harry. "Does he mean The Sword of Gryffindor? I can do that."
"Wait a minute! Are they infecting me with insanity here? That stupid snake killed me twice, and ate me once last time!"
"Are you two nuts?! "Harry ranted. "That basilisk ate me once and killed me during my second chance. If it hadn't been for Fawkes, I would have died the second time also!"
Erzelkendis waved his hand in dismissal. "Ever hear of a boar spear? Ever enlarge something?" Harry stared blankly back at him.
"And you claim to be a wizard," The Mountain of Muscle drawled in the most resigned and disgusted tone Harry has ever heard.
The being changed his tone. "Look, due to our side believing that sentient beings should have free will, we just cannot gift you with amazing powers and give you foreknowledge of coming events. We also, for example, cannot tell you who to be mere acquaintances with, or true friends with, or who will aid your cause selflessly.
"And while I'm thinking about it, spend some of that money you have to buy yourself some decent clothes. You obviously have no idea what confusing messages you send to your schoolmates because you are known to be the heir to an old, powerful magical family, yet everyone knows you wear clothes that look like you got them from a rag bin. Between your clothes, your being afraid to talk to people, and that fame-whore-by-association who jealously wants to be your only friend, nobody knows how to approach you."
"Your nodding acquaintances and other students who do not know you have no idea how to treat you as you constantly send mixed messages. Every time you seem to be friendly and approachable, that red-headed, backstabbing. . "
The Mountain of Muscle Man took a deep, cleansing breath. "Look, Mr. Potter, you have had six attempts at doing things your way, and you ended up here every time. Could you please try it our way this time?"
A chime rang through the room.
"Ferbelnutiks!"
Harry could hear the urgency in Erzelkendis' voice as he rapidly spoke. "As the report stated, we can remove the wit-dulling potion and that curiosity-killing charm from you. Say 'yes' now."
Harry could not think of a reason to say no, so he shrugged and nodded his head.
"Also, I am going to make you immune to the favorite curse that arrogantly foolish Headmaster of yours uses, Obliviation."
The Man Mountain carefully and gently placed a hand on either side of his head and murmured something. Harry, who had been expecting pain or something, felt a slight tingle behind his eyes.
"Sign that last sheet of paper and let's get you out of here. We are out of time." Erzelkendis' voice held a sense of urgency as he removed his hands from Harry's head.
"Wait a minute! I didn't even sign a contract with that stupid Goblet and it buggered me anyway. I'm not signing until I read it!"
"Mister Potter, I swear to you your signature is to merely cover my ass that you are being allowed to keep your memories this time when you are sent back. Remember, I promised to tell you the truth. No lying or prevaricating allowed."
Harry stared at him for a moment, sighed, grabbed the last page of the pile, snatched up the pen, and signed the paper.
"Enough. Mister Potter, please stand on that red dot on the floor there."
Harry did.
"Please read your notes one last time. Your departure time is approaching."
"Remember. Find your soul mate, kill the Horcruxes, kill Tom Riddle. Live a long life. Have lots of babies and grandbabies. Become happy. That's your job. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy."
Harry, frantically trying to memorize his sheets, never raised his eyes, and gestured with one hand. And his middle finger.
"Do not, do not, do not, tell anyone about this experience. If they do not have Occlumency, or good mind shields, Snape or Dumbledore could read their minds and that would lead them straight to you. And believe me, that nosey, interfering old idiot will then obliviate them, and try to obliviate you, all the way back to drooling babyhood."
"The only one you can tell is your Soul Mate. She will get automatically protected when her mind gains a linkage with yours."
Erzelkendis' hand clap echoed through the room. "Oh! By the way your Soul Mate i . ."
WANG-O!
And in a literal flash, Harry was gone, leaving several sheets of paper to waft to the floor.
After a moment, Annika turned to Erzelkendis.
"Nice screwup there, Big Guy. Informing him who his Soul Mate is, was kinda important."
With no answer forthcoming, she continued on, "Why didn't you tell him the Curse he ate removed the soul fragment from his head?"
The answer was low and gravelly, "First, he never noticed, and second, because it will still be there in his almost twelve-year-old body. Causality demands he is in the same condition as he was at that point the last time his soul was in that body."
He continued, "It is also the technicality that let us send him back. He technically did not die. His soul was not the one removed when he was struck by the curse."
"You mean he has a 'get out of Killing Curse free' card?" she asked.
"Wait a minute," she continued, sounding puzzled. "Then why did he end up here? He couldn't have unless . . ."
Her eyes widened in shock. "You and Gurklus must have scammed the system. How, and better yet why, did you interfere? If Hel ever finds out . . ."
"Why should they?" was the reply. "Proper procedure was followed to the letter. Once the error had been discovered, of course."
"So, you get to put him into a situation where he can now succeed in his Destiny," she stated.
"Yeah, but on the negative side of the ledger, he's going to hate being scrawny and short again."
"What will happen when the realization sets in that he is The Chosen One? The being upon which, unknown to them and him, whole civilizations are unknowingly relying on to continue as they are and not fall into The Darkness?" she added thoughtfully.
The large being slowly nodded his head in reflection. "You may think his burdens are heavy now, if he had lived another three years, the senile acting Fates had decreed a Destiny that would have weighed him down heavier and harder.
"You know, they're starting to seem beyond not caring about what they weave into his Tapestry coming to fruition. I think I'll write a memo to Upper Management to find out if anyone is checking up on their doings properly," Erzelkendis said thoughtfully.
A small smirk grew on his face as he looked at Annika. "I did cheat a little. First, I muddled up his memory of that Diggory boy being killed. Oh, he will still remember it happened, but the horror of how ruthlessly it occurred will be lessened in his nightmares.
He does have two possible problems with his scar. The first is that after Riddle gets a body, he could use the connection to pull Potter's memory of everything that happened here. And if not removed before Riddle's final death, the soul fragment will suck all of Potter's magic and then his life force away from him to try to feed them to Riddle in an effort to keep him viable.
On the upside, if he learns how to use it, the fragment in his scar will lead him to the soul pieces in the Horcruxes. I couldn't make it a freebie and tell him about it. That would be against the rules. But if he notices the ability, and develops the talent to use it . ."
With slightly lightened souls and slight smirks of conspiracy, the two beings turned and left the room to take up their work again.
A/N:
Horcruxes. Harry doesn't understand that is the plural form.
One: Historical figure. 1560-1614. Accused, and convicted, of heinous crimes against children. Originally painted as evil child killer. Late history revision is she was framed so her lands and position could be stolen by her male relatives. The story works better with the old interpretation.
Two: Think of Olympic wrestlers' uniforms.
Three: Historical figure 1043-1099. A Hero of the Spanish Reconquista wars. Modern history revision is he was a very good general out for himself. Again, for story purposes, I went with the legend.
Four: The meaning of the thought that he could tell Hermione blew right past Harry's consciousness. Pity. But think of how much Angst and Fluff I then couldn't write.
Five: Oriental game that I've never played. From my little knowledge, it is a game of pieces not so much being captured as being surrounded, outnumbered, and removed. A game of pressure and intimidation rather than open warfare.
Used because of a memory of a scene from The Forever War by Joe Haldeman.
Six: A highly condensed and overly simplified explanation of the Gods and their rules in the universes and dimensional fights between Good vs. Evil.
Inspired by The War God's Own- by David Weber.
Chapter is too long already. Further explanations of stuff will have to wait.
Anything over 6K words is a bitch to edit esp. the Document Manager small print.