[002]

I didn't actually go far, yet it was still further than I usually got when running away from the hell that was Privet Drive. Still, without money or any form of transportation, I ended up in a children's playground a handful of blocks away.

I kept glancing at the clouded sky, expecting rain. I was certain I'd heard the rumbled crack of distant thunder earlier and yet the clouds drifted by idly, giving no indication of a coming storm. Despite the fear of rain, which would be a huge downer given that I only had the clothes on my back and little else, the walk was enjoyably refreshing.

Usually, extended activity had me crouched over and dying. In one life that was because of a sedentary lifestyle where I preferred reading and playing videogames over overt physical activity and in this life it was from chronic malnutrition and regular beatings… So, when I eventually stopped and plonked myself down in the swing set, it wasn't from exhaustion but because I needed to get my mind together.

'Who was I?' The immediate response I felt was 'Harry Potter' and I truly did feel like that was me. The simmering resentment of how my life had been going and the clawing frustration to escape it felt natural and despite the current crisis of identity — 'I'm a fucking girl now!' — I still had a smile threatening to crack my current stoic visage because right now I felt freer than I ever had in my life.

But that didn't explain the other memories that were squeezed in with my own. While impersonal and seemingly lacking in detail these memories were of a mundane life with normal amounts of love and hardship… They felt natural too as they mixed with my other memories and acted as a balance or a counterweight that gave perspective to the shit I had been going through and I felt myself shifting to accept that new, healthier, mental state.

I couldn't even remember the name of that person I was in that other life, but I was currently incredibly thankful to the calming influence they were having over my mind. I should be freaking out. Not just because I had somehow been transformed into a girl but because I had defied and escaped my abusers, something I had dreamed of yet felt completely unable to do before now. And that's what they had been: abusers. My new perspective was certain of that and was horrified not just at the abuse but how it had gone on for so long without interference. And with that thought came another; an explanation that just days ago I would have scoffed away as nonsense, 'Magic'.

Magic had been used to keep me trapped with those awful people and for whatever reason, I didn't know.

+100 CP

500 CP - Rolling…

Psychic Abilities – Channelling [•] (World of Darkness: Sorcerer) – 100 CP

In the World of Darkness, psychic abilities and mythic sorcery are, at first glance, completely different. However, both manipulate the same powers, albeit in very different ways, and are both considered forms of linear magic. While a sorcerer utilizes numerous tools and ceremonies to harness supernatural powers, a psychic makes do with lots, and lots, of willpower. Furthermore, the majority of psychic powers are innate, and can be improved, but not gained, without outside interference, in stark contrast to sorcery.

The psychic world's answer to the Path of Ephemera, channelling is sometimes called Necro-Psi, and often confused with the aforementioned Path. It allows the psychic to interact with the spirits of the dead, but not other forms of spiritual beings, perceiving their presence and even drawing upon their skills and experiences.

[•] The channeler may sense nearby ghosts in a vague sense, and channel the skills and knowledge of one ghost of choice, once per day.

Accepted.

400 CP Banked.

A meteor-shower of words again streamed through my mind and this time I recognised what was happing with a type of giddy awe.

The Celestial Grimoire. A prompt tool for creating writing. A fantasy device that attached to a character's soul and gifted them magic from other worlds for the cost of choice points that were gained through… through… Fuck! It was set up that the person connected to the Grimoire was incapable of determining the mechanism through which they gained points, wasn't it?

I took a deep and calming breath. OK. Okay. I was Harry Potter, the character in a book series by the same name and I'd been gifted the memoires — or something more — of someone else along with a mythical power granting book made of stars… sure, ok, that's fine.

At the same time as I was recognising the absurdity that was the Celestial Grimoire, a new sense was intruding onto my mind. I was subtle. I almost didn't notice it but for the chill that seeped along my skin that was so at odds to the hot summer night.

I was pulled from my musings to look at the gooseflesh that had sprung on my arm and I looked beside me at the empty swing to my right as it swung slightly on rusty chains in a breeze that wasn't there.

The once empty swing now held a presence. A gentle insistence that there was actually someone or something there and I got this vague impression of a boy, no older than six, was calmly swinging his legs and enjoying the late-night company.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and realise that I was sensing a ghost.

Which… was wrong. This was the Harry Potter universe and I, as a wizard, should be able to see ghosts with clarity not just sense a vague presence of one. Or at least that's what the memories of my other self, my previous self, was telling me. I frowned. But what did they know? Those memories of a book series were completely inaccurate. I had never heard of Hogwarts nor had I ever received any letters from them. My eleventh birthday was filled with agony and muffled screaming not large men on flying motorcycles with squished cake and tickets to dreams and imagination.

I had just turned fourteen and my memories were telling me that I should be gearing up to visit the Weasleys to attend the 1994 Quidditch World Cup in a few weeks, not sitting alone in a park after getting genderbent and running away from home.

I might have tossed the lot of the 'Harry Potter series' memories out as nonsense if not for the fact that the Grimoire was obviously real and that I was transformed into my current state by a gifted power that was from the very universe I was supposedly in.

Obviously, something didn't add up. I needed answers because as much as my life sucked, the shit that book-Harry had to go through appeared both gloriously easy and also ridiculously self-punishing. The very idea that I was some chosen figure of prophesy and had to defeat a Dark Lord almost made me laugh until I realised that I had somehow been chosen by a magical plot device that bestowed power and destiny.

'I needed Hermione.' That other part of my soul supplied the solution. If I was truly the Harry Potter of those children's stories then Hermione should exist and also have the answers I so desperately needed. 'When in doubt, find a bookworm.' Words to live by.

So, with a polite nod to whisp of a shade what I could only assume was a dead child! I left the playground in search of a payphone. Only to be hit, once again, by the Grimoire deciding to reward me for whatever it was I had supposedly done.

+100 CP

500 CP - Rolling…

Insufficient CP.

Rejected.

500 CP Banked.

Or not. Huh… I have this vague feeling that I just dodged a huge bullet. Whatever.

It had taken walking another block to find a payphone to realise the obvious and glaring hole in my plan to contact a possibly fictional character. I didn't know Hermione's number. Fuck, and even if I did know it, I was currently broke without my wallet or ID or anything. Not that the ID would help given the whole gender change that I was studiously not thinking about.

Really, what was I going to do? Reverse-call the girl? 'You have a reverse charge call from: 'HI-you-don't-know-me-but-I-need-answers-about-magic-help-thanks-please' If you would like to accept the call; press one. If not, please hang up.' Yeah, I wouldn't either.

I did consider looking up her parents in the handy phone directory stored in the with the payphone but I didn't actually know their names… which seemed like a huge detail to be left out of the story now that I think about. Like having a shonen with an absentee father that never appears and isn't plot relevant. You know, kind'a stupid.

I knew they were both Doctor and Doctor Granger but it's not like I could call every Granger in the directory and hope the right ones would accept the call cost.

Eventually, it was during a moment of longing for an Android phone that hadn't been invented yet that I came to the conclusion that while I couldn't just look up Hermione's parents, I could do an internet search for dental offices with 'Doctors Granger' on staff. Or… at least I think I can. What was the internet like mid 1994? Surely, they had Google… right?

Another few blocks of walking and I eventually found myself sitting on a bench outside a public library as the sun started peaking over the horizon. I was actually pretty tired by now. The adrenaline of the night had long worn out and I had pretty much gone from bedridden in agony to possibly dead to powerful now-a-girl something or another all in one night.

I palmed my face, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes until I was seeing little stars and groaned with frustration. I also realised that somewhere during my whole storming out of the Dursleys I had lost my glasses and never even noticed. Given that I had had no trouble reading the directory, I could only assume that I didn't need them anymore. Maybe it came with the whole becoming half-Veela… they were supposed to be sort of perfect, right? 'Become a hot chick! Trade in your penis now and get twenty-twenty vision as a consolation prize?' I snorted at the thought.

Man, I was too tired if I was thinking that was funny. I leant back against the bench and closed my eyes.

I swear I didn't fall asleep. Though obviously that would be a lie as the next thing I know I'm waking up from the drone of passing cars and the rambunctious chatter of school kids walking by on their way to the bus stop.

Thankfully, no one seemed to have done anything while I was asleep… and ain't that I fucking thought to wake to? Man, I needed to take better care than that. It's not like I was going without notice either. The school boys were all stealing glances my way as they passed and that confused me for a moment until I remembered that I was half-veela now… shit. Did that mean I was putting off some version of the allure? I had just thought my uncle and cousin were sick, degenerate fucks but maybe I was actually mind-whammying them with supernatural hormones or something.

Can I turn it off if I'm releasing some sort of magical fuck-me aura?

I closed my eyes and tried to turn my mind inward. Primarily I noticed that I was hungry and still fucking thirsty… God damn it, I hadn't even gotten past step one of introspective identity crisis management: Hydration. I had skipped that and step two 'find a comfy blanket' and skipped straight to step seven 'deal with your shit.' No wonder I was cranky.

I pushed passed my bodily needs and my irritation and delved deeper. The first thing I found was that raging storm of power inside me. I recognised it intuitively as magic and dipping a metaphysical toe into it found myself standing at the eye of a storm. Swirling clouds of magic and flashes of power surrounded me and on the outside, everyone nearby turned to stare at my seated form as something about what I was doing demanded their attention in the same way everyone stops still at the sound of a howling wolf or a lion's roar. They instinctively knew that a predator was nearby.

But this churning font of POWER was not what I was looking for, though I really did want to remain in that calm eye within the chaos. It was weirdly comfortable. With a shift of perspective, the storm was pushed outwards and the calm centre enlarged until it was a dark place with two shining stars hanging like fireflies in the air.

One star held a vaguely clammy chill about it like condensation on a warming can of soft drink and I got the mental impression of spiritual energy flowing both from and around the point. Touching it, I was suddenly aware that thirty metres to my right, someone had died near a year ago… a car accident. A middle-aged man with a heart condition. The chill memory of his spirit a dim thing, almost completely gone from the passage of time.

I released that power and turned to the next, knowing that it could only be something to do with my new Veela heritage. This star flickered like candle flame. It danced and twirled on the eddies that drifted of the storm around me. I was much more careful in reaching for this one, not wanting to encourage it to release more allure around me. I cupped it gently in my palms and it felt warm and hot as it licked at my skin with sweet little pleasurable kisses. I shivered, not from cold but from the pure desire that was contained within this tiny flame. I mentally urged it to dim, to quiet and bank it's fire until it was needed and as I did so I felt something around me pull tight against my skin. As if I had wrapped myself in a blanket but not as comfortable… in fact, it was a little suffocating, like when you put your head under the covers, the air was warmer and cloying and felt thin.

Yet, I'm fairly certain it worked as when I opened my eyes… people were still looking at me but the feeling I got from them was different. These were looks of concern or interest but not of stifled desire. I'd take that as a win.

A page of night turned and the stars wrote out their secrets.

+100 CP

600 CP - Rolling…

Variant Detonation (A.G.G C.O.R.E) – 300 CP

This sacred gear manifests as a glowing aura around the user. This gear grants immense physical resistance to blunt and concussive force as well as immense heat. Additionally, the user can create explosions at his/her discretion by touching his/her target.

Accepted.

300 CP Banked.

A burning fire sprung forth from within and I had to clamp down hard to keep it from leaking out. Even then, whisps of emerald flame flickered about me for just a moment and by the doubletake of a few of the people around still giving me the eye, I know that some of them had noticed the not-so-subtle flare of light.

At the same time as I was trying my best to withhold this new power from manifesting, my mind was flooded with knowledge about its use. Variant Detonation was a formless Sacred Gear, a powerful artifact gifted to Humans and Human-hybrids by God. And that's a Capital Gee God, from the Bible type GOD.

While all Sacred Gears were incredible powerful, this one was actually on the lower end of the possible abilities I could have been granted from this particular universe… or at least that's what my memories were telling me.

This Sacred Gear was elementally inclined towards explosions. As mentioned by the Grimoire, it manifested as a green glowing aura that allowed me to create explosions in conjunction with my physical attacks. It also gave near immunity to said explosions so I wouldn't blow myself up the moment I tried to use it.

I felt the Sacred Gear settle into my soul and with that settling my control over it grew in leaps and bounds until I wasn't suppressing it any longer but could feel it ready to manifest with but a flex of my will. I was very much tempted to pull it out and go all discount Super Saiyan just to freak out all the morning traffic on the street but held myself back despite how fun that would be.

This wasn't some shonen world where such an act would be ignored. If I really was in a Harry Potter universe that held any similarity with the books past me had read then there was a chance that showing off any overtly supernatural abilities would see the aurors and the… mind wiping guys… the oblivatars? No, Obliviators, that's it. Is it ironic that I forgot their name? Anyway, do magic and the magic police might turn up and try and arrest me to wipe my memory and I was SO not comfortable with the idea.

Seriously, when you think about it, some things in the Harry Potter books were down right Horror. That magical secret service could sweep through and wipe your memories of just about anything. Given that a person was a collection of their experiences, wasn't wiping even a few minutes like killing them… if only just a little?

Caught up in that downward spiral of creeping horror, I didn't even notice that a middle-aged woman had walked past and opened up the library for the day until one of the schoolboys had walked to the building to drop some books into the return chute and the thunk of it closing had snapped me back to reality enough to notice the now unlocked door.

I stood and entered the library and made my way briskly, not to the bank of old-fashioned brick computers on the back wall but directly to the bathroom to make use of the facilities. It had been a long night and really, really needed to pee.

+100 CP

400 CP - Rolling…

Insufficient CP.

Regected.

400 CP Banked.

Eep! I'm ok! And I most certainly did not fall in! You cant prove otherwise!

Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was starting to get a migraine. She stood in the middle of an ostentatiously neat living room and stared Junior Auror Jason Thimbly down as he attempted to give a report on the situation. Eventually, she decided she had had enough and cut the officer off.

"So, what you're trying to say," she said in a quiet tone that had the more intelligent nearby officers finding somewhere else, anywhere else, to be, "was that you decided to obliviate the only people in the house who could actually answer our questions."

The Junior Auror audibly swallowed. "Err, well, that is correct, Ma'am."

"Are you a trained and certified Obliviator, Officer Thimbly?"

The man winced at the demoted title. Not all officers within the DMLE made Auror status and getting to Junior Auror had been a success given his age. Not the youngest to get that far, Mad-Eye's little protégé earning that recognition, but Junior Auror by twenty-five had been worthy of respect… until now.

"Err, no, Ma'am, not yet." He replied, shamefaced.

"Not yet." Amelia quoted him back. "Then perhaps you can enlighten me as to why you decided to try to botch an advanced multi-target obliviate and mangle the spell so badly that the only three witnesses to the Class D magical eruption are going to need weeks in the acute spell damage ward at Saint Mungos to recover their memories?"

"Well, ah, that is to say, standard procedure in the case of a Dragon Incident in a muggle designated zone is to wipe all muggles present of any, umm, possibility of exposing the magical world."

Amelia nodded. "That is correct, Officer Thimbly."

The young man perked up slightly, a ray of hope was shining over the horizon.

"Except that there is NO BLOODY DRAGON IN THIS THIS BLOODY LIVINGROOM!" Amelia yelled out causing the few brave officers still loitering to watch the dressing down to flinch.

"Err, yes, Ma'am." The officer whimpered and Amelia sighed suddenly not feeling mad but just tired.

"Effective immediately you are redesignated as being on leave without pay while an investigation is to be performed in regards to the incident. You will be contacted when that investigation is concluded and may be subjected to further punishment. That is all, you are dismissed, Officer."

The Junior officer displayed his understanding and respect by offering a sharp salute and walking brusquely from the room yet his shoulders trembled slightly.

Amelia sighed again. This investigation had already been off to a rocky start and this latest development was further muddying the waters.

It had started with the Department of Mysteries alerting the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of a Class D magical emergence in the suburb of Surrey, just outside the Greater London area.

A Class D magical emergence, also known as a 'Demon Incursion,' but often called a 'Dragon Incident' by those who didn't know any better, was defined as the sudden detection of a high-level magical spell, creature, entity, or ritual within a muggle designated area.

The vast majority of Class D magical emergences over the last four decades had been minor incidents of dragons having escaped the reserves and having flown into a muggle area. The magic they released spiking when they eventually breathed fire to roast a muggle or two and triggering the detection grid.

There had been a few other incidents during the war. Cases of high intensity spell-fights were more common during that time. There had even been a botched ritual near the end of the war, that one had been… messy. The spike in magic doing truly horrific things to both the caster and the young muggle sacrifices. She still occasionally had nightmares about that one.

The worse, and the entire reason the detection grid was implement and still received funding despite the tight purse strings of the ministry, were the three recorded incidents of an actual demonic incursions since the detection grid had first been activated in 1652.

Two had been natural eruptions between this world and the Other Place from which all interdimensional entities originated. An organic confluence of magic and space warping in such a way as to bridge realities. Two minor Demons had slipped through in both those incidents and had gone on to slaughter, rape, maim and eat anyone in the immediate vicinity. If they were lucky, it would be in that order too.

The other incident was kept secret, a 'For Your Eyes Only' document that was shown only to the head of the DMLE and the Unspeakable designated to studying the Others. November 14, 1940, a dementedly insane wizard attempted to open a rift between here and the Other for whatever ill-conceived reason. He did not survive.

The Greater Demon that came through killed over five hundred muggles, twenty-seven magicals and took the combined might of the entire Auror force and Albus bloody Dumbledore to expel. Not kill. Expel. They could only manage to return it from whence it came.

The only reason that the magical world wasn't exposed that night was that England was in the midst of World War Two and the bombing of the nation by the German forces offered the perfect cover story to be eased into the public's consciousness with a liberal application of obliviation and cunfudlement charms. Didn't stop the ICW from cracking down hard on magical Britain though, the fines had been enough to nearly bankrupt the ministry at the time. It was only thanks to the 'generous donations' of the wealthier families that the ministry and the nation stayed afloat.

Amelia grimaced. Sometimes she wished that the ministry didn't survive. Those donations didn't come for free and the subsequent returned favours promised to those 'generous' families had only empowered the already rife corruption, nepotism and bigotry that existed in their government.

Tonight, Amelia had still been in the office when the notification came through despite the late hour. The department could joke all they liked about how she was married to her job but sometimes it really did feel that way. Other than her niece, there wasn't much to keep her home and Susan was currently in her rebellious phase and spending most nights with her friend Hannah Abbott than at Bones Manor.

With the alert of the Demon Incursion, she had mustered all hands-on deck and made an emergency call to bring in all off-duty officers. A dragon would need all the skilled wands they could gather to subdue it and in the case of another cause… well, more wands would be needed there too.

While hoping for the best, that a rogue dragon had taken roost in suburban England, Amelia knew they had to prepare for the worst and her preparations seemed founded when their attempt to apparate en masse to the site of the disturbance failed with a painful rebuffing. Some sort of magical storm was agitating the ambient magic too much for magical travel.

Apparating as close as they could had still left them a disturbing full kilometre from the epicentre of the Class D magical eruption and they had to then proceed on foot. Every step closer and they could even begin to feel the fading buzz of magic in the air. Like standing too close to those silly muggle Electric cables or the uncertain expectation in the air of a storm having passed overhead yet not breaking. They knew then with certainty that there was something greater than a dragon ahead of them.

Fifteen DMLE Officers — backup hopefully enroute — converged on the epicentre like a murderous flock of ravens anxious to battle. They swept through the sleepy late-night streets of suburban England, converging on number four Privet Drive. Expecting to fight against a nightmare made magical flesh they instead found an angry walrus of a man trying to refit his front door into its frame while angrily muttering obscenities about magic and freaks.

Suffice to say, he did not take kindly to the lot of them turning up, wands drawn and stunners already flying but he was unconscious before he could make much of an objection.

Amelia had led the search through the house for the cause of the emergence. They had gone room to room, spelling open doors and casting stunners at anyone they found… which by the time they had covered the entire house was only the aforementioned walrus, a beaky woman and an unhealthily obese teen.

No demonic entities from the beyond, no oversized fire-breathing lizard, no heated magical battle and no rituals. Just three muggles and the still fading eddies of magic around the obviously mundane property.

If Amelia hadn't been so distracted by the complete lack of a magical disaster, she might have been able to stop the young eager-to-please officer from jumping regulations and obliviating the witnesses. In the absence of an actual emergency, proper procedure was to call in the professional Obliviators. They, at least, would have been able to narrow down the wipe to only a dozen or so minutes rather than two bloody years.

Yet another sigh escaped her and she found herself pinching her brow, her monocle hanging on its chain as she could feel the migraine edging at the corners of her eyes.

"Black!" she called out to the surrounding officers who were studiously allowing her a moment.

There was a loud thud and the sound of breaking glass before Junior Auror Nymphadora Black stumbled into the room from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Boss?"

Another deep breath; not a sigh, certainly. "The other Black."

"Oh… um, Uncle Siri, er, I mean Senior Auror Black isn't here." The younger Black provided.

This was getting ridiculous. "And why did Senior Auror Black not respond to the all-hands-on-deck?"

"Umm… it's the thirty-first." Nymphadora explained. "He's likely blind drunk by now."

Amelia frowned. "I don't care how drunk he is, someone go get Auror Black and bring him here NOW. Force feed him a sobriety potion if you need to but we need his nose!"

"Sure, Boss, right away, Boss." Nymphadora hastily agreed and Apparated out of the house directly in defiance of social politeness. The magical storm had long since faded even if the air still felt over charged with magic.

Amelia looked around the room and the still busybody aurors who were still there. "Well, don't you all have work to do?"

They scattered.

It had already been an hour since they had arrived at this drearily mundane muggle home and they were still no closer to figuring out the source of the Class D magical emergence. Diagnostic spells were no help given the sheer quantity of magic that had been released in the house. The muggles had no answers as they had been obliviated of the incident. All that they could tell from what limited diagnostics they could perform was that there was upwards of three different magical signatures in the house and the faded remains of a possibly illegal ward-scheme.

It took a further hour to bring Black in and he arrived dishevelled, stinking of firewhiskey and being dragged by his younger cousin, an empty bottle of sobriety potion in her hand.

"What do you want, Bones?" He grouched. "I'm on leave."

Amelia frowned. "Leave is technically 'on-standby' during magical emergencies. You didn't respond to the call of a Class D incident."

Sirius blinked. "Call?" He sheepishly patted down his coat and pockets. "Ahh… I've seemed to left my badge at home when I, ah, went out." He offered an incorrigible smile yet Amelia was not amused.

"I don't have time for this. Just switch to your Animagus form and sniff around. There was supposedly a Class D magical emergence in this house and we can't find the cause. Diagnostic spells are proving useless given the amount of magic in the air and the only possible witnesses were accidently and extendedly obliviated and currently think it's June-"

"That's not too bad." Sirius began.

"-of 1992."

"Oh… Right. That's bad. Well, knew you needed me for something." Sirius grumbled and smoothly shifted into a large shaggy black dog.

Animagus, the ability of a magical to transfigure themselves wandlessly into a singular mundane animal form. It was a handy bit of magic yet required so much time and energy to learn that most magicals never attempted the transformation. What those magicals didn't know was that while the animal they transformed into was mundane; they themselves were still magical and thus, while transformed the animal form, were magical as well. This meant that most Animagus forms had certain abilities unique to their form and in the case of Sirius Black, he could sniff out lingering trances of magic. It was a skill that was indispensable in their line of work.

Amelia was hoping he would be able pick something out from the heightened background magic to point them in the right direction but she wasn't prepared for the way Siris went suddenly stiff in his animal form.

"Sirius?" she asked, dropping the formalities for the moment.

The dog let out a low and piteous whine before darting around the room, sniffing the furniture and the floor, edging away from the doorway to the kitchen before narrowing in on an innocuous cupboard in the hallway, one set under the stairs, and scratching at the door.

Eyebrow raised at this odd behaviour, she strode over and unlatched the cupboard door, not expecting what she found within.

The small and cramped space held a small, foam mattress, a thin blanket and a pile of clothes, a small shelf with an assortment of odds and ends and a small stack of school books.

Siris leapt in to nose at the mattress and clothes before leaping back out and shifting back into human form and suddenly and without warning grabbing Amelia roughly by the collar and slamming her into the stairs.

"What the fuck is going on Amelia? And why do I smell my twelve-years-dead godson's magic?" He growled while ignoring the wands now trained on his back by the other Aurors. "Why do I smell, Harry?"

Before she could reply there was a sudden pounding knock at the entrance that rattled the already broken wooden door out of its frame to fall into the hall with a loud crash. Heads and wands whipped towards this new threat to find standing in the doorway a giant of a man in a moleskin coat with his fist raised awkwardly from where he had knocked on the door.

"Err… I'll, um, come back later then."

Yep… she was definitely getting a migraine. "Hagrid?"