Disclaimer:

I solemnly swear that the literature and works of the Harry Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling, Bloomberg and Warner Bros. The only thing I own are the one-shot ideas that popped into my head and whatever OCs I would create for them. This is a work of pure fiction made solely for fun, constructive reviews will be welcomed, flames will be ignored. Any references to characters in real-life or fiction are purely coincidental. If I could make money out of my ideas, it would be nice...

Mischief Managed Damn It!

Title: Magical Elf Coalition (Working Title)

Posted Date: November 27 2024

Tags: BA House Elves, Multi Lordship Harry, ICW idiots

Requirements: Harry to lose Potter Fortune connection, Bad Dumbledore, Harry to lose Scar-Crux, Good Tonks Family, Bad Goblins, Mother Magic, Fate being a bitch

Possible Challenges: WBWL, Neville BWL, Harry not regaining family fortune, Harry not going to Hogwarts

Possible Pairings: TBD

Tropes not to be used: Harry returning to the Dursleys

The seven-year-old boy bit his lip as he cradled his broken arm and curled up in the cupboard, trying to sleep through the pain he got from the latest set of punishments he got from his uncle. He had burnt the bacon slightly for dinner, and the end result had Vernon beating him with his hands and knocking him against the wall that hurt his arm before throwing him into the cupboard. He was only able to get a few bites from dinner so he was sure to be feeling the pangs of hunger later. He slowly moved to light the candle he managed to hide before looking at his injury, wincing as the mediocre pillow brushed against the bump he figured would be the broken bone. It was always like this as far as he could remember, always being blamed and punished for the smallest of mistakes or for the odd things that kept happening around him because of his supposed "Freaky Stuff" as his uncle would put it.

It was not like he knew why they came on, nor the fact he wanted them to happen. It just kept happening when he got scared by Vernon or the teachers, or when he was angry. He just wanted them to stop, but he couldn't, and because of that, he was always getting punished. Nothing he did would go right, and he felt lonely. He wished he could have parents that would take care of him, but instead he was alone and hurt.

He curled up in his pain, trying to ignore the ache that appeared to have shifted to his chest with tears going down his face from the pain of the injury and the pain of loneliness, quietly muttering a tune as his eyes closed almost lethargically in time with his shallow breathing.

"Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday dear Harry, Happy Birthday to me."

~ooOOoo~

What is magic?

Some call it a supernatural force, others call it the trick of the mind by the mundane.

All are correct, and wrong, in their assumptions.

In this case, it was the being that granted the gift to her children, and right now she was angry.

The being had watched as her children spread and flourished all over the world, learning to be one with nature before humanity started to get greedy and corrupted from her gift, and started to attack each other for petty reasons. The evidence was more obvious in Europe where a rot appeared to have settled in Britain and spread to the neighboring countries because of the half-blood incubus being considered the greatest of them all in that region. Many of the humans whose ancestors had settled there in the past had grown arrogant and started some ridiculous notion of magic belonging to the purest of blood, and forcing those they deemed unworthy to the bottom of the social ladder to languish in pain while they tried to keep magic to themselves.

Mother Magic had seen many uprisings and wars between regular folks and magic users, and then fights between other magic users. She watched how some had dared to break all that was sacred in their pursuits for riches and immortality, and how they would bring about the ruin of all before getting destroyed by either those who rose up to defeat him, or to be replaced by one that was crueler than them.

But she had also seen the odd generations of children who embraced magic in the manner it was intended, and worked to protect nature and the world around them. They could see the gift that was intended in magic, and how it could be used to aid others.

It was them that earned her attention.

And there was one who needed it right now.

She had her eyes on Britain that had undergone a civil war and saw the rise of the wizard who had dared to push against the territory of her friend Death by breaking his soul into pieces. She watched as the wizard use the pretence of blood purity to kill those who stood in his path while pillaging others, letting his followers rampage without restraints and to kill, rape and torture all in their wake. She watched the supposed Leader of the Light do some token resistance while using the opportunity to remove some of his own opponents.

And then, there was the birth of the child who could potentially bring about the great cleansing of magic. She could feel it in her essence, the child who had the power to save the world.

The one who could save her other children from the pits of corruption, but was now suffering because of the delusions of a man who seeked glory for his own.

Mother Magic could not stand by and watch this soul get harmed anymore. She had to do something to help the child.

And getting one up over the being called Fate was a happy coincidence in her opinion. Hearing her brag about her plans for the child made Mother Magic want to knock that smile off her face with a cosmic punch to the face. That being was going on and on about how the child should be grateful for helping the world, all the while piling on the mother pile of misfortunes on the boy to "toughen up the lad" with that sickening smirk.

Well, she was going to do the next best thing, let's see that smug BITCH try to smile after this!

~ooOOoo~

A soft pop resounded in the quiet neighbourhood of Little Whinging. Anyone who happened to be awake and looking outside of their window would likely be wondering what was the creature that was looking about the place, at least if they could see it since it was invisible to regular eyes.

It was a curious looking creature, roughly the height of a small child with long pointy ears and large eyes roughly the size of tennis balls. It was dressed in what might pass as a boy's scout uniform with a lot of badges about the belt, and a small beret on its head that stuck on even as it looked about with wild movements.

"Strange, Mopsy could feel something." The elf spoke in a squeaky and decidedly male voice while looking around and scratching the back of the head. Another pop brought his attention to another elf, this one in a small dress and notable confusion.

"Did you call Cassie here?" The second elf asked with a higher tone that was more feminine.

"Mopsy did not call you, Mopsy just arrived here." The first elf answered. "Do you know where we are?"

"Mundane street." The two turned to find a third elf covered completely in black cloth with only the eyes present beneath, like he was a stereotypical ninja especially when combined with the speech pattern. "Talon was going to ask you the same question."

"So we are all called here?" Mopsy looked about with great unease. "Where is the call?" The elf named Talon pointed to one of the cookie cutter houses in reply.

"Talon senses blood wards on that house." The other two elves hissed at the mention. Such wards were strong, yes, but they were also the types that could turn against the one powering the ward if certain conditions were not met. And looking at the state of the ward in question, it was certainly not a good thing. The best they could describe it would be a translucent dome that was a sickly green with crimson lines pulsing like diseased veins.

"Should we go inside to check?" Cassie asked while playing with her fingers nervously.

"Talon thinks we must, the call is coming from that house." The ninja elf answered. With a look shared with each other, they popped right into the house and looked about with caution even though they were invisible. It seemed like a regular home that had some tasteful furniture, a set of curtains that matched well, and lots of photos depicting a couple and their admittedly fat kid.

Yet to the elves, this felt so fake, and there was the undercurrent of darkness that permeated the house and made the trio a little sick. The elves decided to spread out to find what was making the call to them. It would be Cassie who would make the discovery, and all three felt equal parts horror and anger at the sight of the young boy that was clutching his broken arm and appeared to be unconscious.

"What did this family do to him?" Cassie almost cried out as she gently approached the child to check on him.

"These people harmed the child." Talon's eyes seemed to glow as he looked up, sensing the presence of the residents sleeping comfortably in their beds while this one suffered alone. "Talon must make them pay."

"Do that later, we must help this child." While distraught, Mipsy still retained some sense to feel out with his magic. "This is the one whose magic is calling out to us. But his life force is waning."

"Where shall we bring him for healing?" Cassie had managed to move the child enough to place his head on her lap, and if it were not so serious, the look would be comical. "Cassie can't bring him to the old house."

"Bring the child to the goblins, they can heal him." Mipsy said. "Mipsy will go and ask the goblins first."

"And what of the people here?" Talon asked evenly, but the eyes that were glowing with an angry light were a clear indicator of what he was likely thinking and possibly hoping to do to them.

"Protect the child first. Muggles can wait." Mipsy said sternly before popping away, leaving the two elves trying to keep the boy alive. It felt like ages until Mipsy appeared, this time with a frown.

"What is wrong?" Cassie had a bad feeling.

"Nasty goblins not wanting to heal the injured child without payment first." Mipsy took a deep breath to contain himself, "Mipsy had to go to the gnomes for help, they wish to see the child now."

"Can Mipsy trust them?" Talon asked.

"We have to." That was the only reply. The three elves looked down at the child once more before they disappeared altogether, unknowingly triggering a breakdown to several silver devices in a castle found in the highlands of Scotland that would go unseen since the owner was away for the month. The phoenix that was there woke up from the sounds and chirped at the devices in question. Seeing the portraits not reacting and feeling the call of a higher being, the phoenix let out a thrill which sounded a little mischievous and waved a wing at the silver devices, repairing them a bit before they started puffing out smoke again. The phoenix nodded its head before going back to sleep, quietly anticipating the moment its "partner" realised something was wrong.

Several miles away, three elves and an injured boy appeared in a room where a gnome was waiting with a crew of healers after being alerted by the house elf. The crew quickly went to work upon seeing the child's state, taking the child from the elves to bring him to the medical room for treatment while the gnome held back to question the elves, his face turning grimmer with the tale being explained to him. Then someone yelled out to them, prompting them to go to the medical room where they had to help the crew save the child fighting for his life.

~ooOOoo~

Deep in the bowels of Gringotts, there was a room containing the lifestones of all the magicals who had a vault with the goblin bank. These stones were one of several methods to ensure the proper line of succession and to confirm if a family line was wiped out before the vaults got locked as part of procedures. Having anticipated the possibilities of greedy hands and corruption, the first generation of bankers made sure to tie the lifestone to the vaults so that they would be locked immediately to ensure the items are safe until a new heir was found or a minimum of a 200 years has passed before the magic decided to open the vaults. Many family lines had vanished for a multitude of reasons such as wars, blood feuds or squibbed out, and their vaults were still locked to this day.

One lifestone was currently letting out a soft whistling sound from all the spinning and heat being generated from it for the past minute. The lifestone started to slow down and came to a stop, the previously bright surface now dulled like it had not been polished for years, and the magical signature almost gone from it. Normally an alert would be sent out for goblins to begin procedures, but the alert system was down for maintenance, and several goblins of dubious natures and plots suffered mysterious deaths that occurred that night, so no one knew about the Potter Family Vaults being locked down with all keys reclaimed or deactivated, and a certain illegal copy crumbling into rust dust without the owner's notice.

Deep in the Department of Mysteries located in the depths of the British Ministry of Magic in the middle of London, there was a room that held rows upon rows of orbs containing the prophecies that were made throughout history. Some were benign, small bits that talked of the most inconsequential of matters that would pass without disturbing people like someone buttering the wrong side of their bread would end up winning the lottery for the day. Others were more serious in a manner that could affect a family, a country, even the world, much like the Greek prophecy involving Oedipus that saw the downfall of the kingdom.

No one could genuinely understand how prophecies would come to pass with the amount of obscure wording they have that would only make sense after the prophecy is fulfilled, but the orbs that were created with ancient magic long before the birth of the Ministry had their own indicators to aid the Unspeakables to show their states of fulfilment.

Orbs showing a glowing white mist would refer to an active or brand new prophecy.

Orbs that have gone dark were obviously stating the prophecy has been completed.

Then there were those that would be half-fulfilled due to conditions not yet met, or interference from third-parties. In those cases, the orbs will be displaying either a misty grey or a half glow resembling the weakest of candle light.

On the rare occasions that prophecies were interrupted or nullified, those were usually done by higher powers that decided the prophecy would not be needed, or to be rendered invalid by all means.

And on that night, that did happen.

In aisle 1978, located on the seventh shelf, an orb that had been created on Halloween night was showing a small cloud of white mist that was almost negligible, suggesting the prophecy inside was almost fulfilled only to be interrupted by something. It was hardly the only orb to display such a state on the shelf, let alone the entire aisle, but it was perhaps one of the more significant prophecies to affect Magical Britain.

Which made what happened next a possible calamity.

The orb started to glow a bright red with smoke coming off the stand from the heat that was building up. The heat even managed to overcome the protection charms on the bronze nameplate beneath the orb and made it start to melt, the names and wordings disappearing in the process. The orb flashed three times before it turned black instantly and cracks appeared on the surface. With a loud shatter, it broke into individual obsidian shards instead of regular glass, with no one in sight to raise the significance of the incident that night. It would be days later when an Unspeakable doing their rounds would find it, by which point it would be too late.

On that one night, Mother Magic decided to take action after hearing the cries of a magical child.

On that one night, a child was removed from his place of suffering.

On that one night, a prophecy was rendered invalid, causing Fate to throw a fit of rage at the disruption once found out.

On that one night, Harry Potter, Last of the Potter Family, disappeared without a trace.