EARTH 2010
It all started on a perfectly normal summer day about a week before Harry's 11th birthday. He'd played his final football game a week before and quit the team because he knew he would be going to Hogwarts soon.
He'd rolled out of bed, having been woken by his "aunt" to help make breakfast because she claimed he needed to learn how to survive like a normal human. He, as usual, did not correct her on his species, knowing she'd been in a sort of denial since the day his siblings introduced them to the existence of alien races. She hated him enough as it was, after all, and treated him as poorly as they could get away with.
He did not hate the Dursleys though, he thought Dudley was the worst sort of scum, thought Vernon was an ignorant and small minded coward, and knew Petunia was a petty, jealous, and pathetic shrew. But he did not hate them.
They hated and feared him, but they hated and feared his family more, so they tolerated him, went along with things as long as they were compensated, and they made no secret of their dislike of him. They did not treat him fairly, but they were reigned in by the threat of a bunch of gods coming after them.
They hated him and feared him, but they did not kick him out and tolerated all the alien stuff and magic as long as he kept it away from them. This was his second home. He couldn't truly hate them.
His childhood at his true home was idyllic. His mum loved him to pieces and was probably the goddess of being a good mother, his sister was nice, gave good advice, and could keep a secret. His dad was the best sort of dad, in his opinion, and was supportive of everything he did, but still kept him in line, gently. His brothers were opposites, his oldest brother was outgoing, charming, fun loving and always willing to take him out with his friends. His other brother was sneaky, mischievous, devious, and always willing to help him get up to no good, but also deeply concerned about his well being.
That morning they were making eggs and bacon, enough to feed a small army. Dudley, his "cousin", had short blond hair that was combed over and gelled like some politician, small watery blue eyes, was so fat his butt drooped off his chair and he looked like he had three chins. Harry thought Dudley rather looked like he weighed as much as he, Harry weighed, but without the height or distinctly non-human ancestry. Vernon looked like an older version of Dudley with no neck (and an ugly, bushy mustache), which his wife made up for by having an overly long neck, which she used to spy on the neighbors.
In fact, Harry thought they resembled a pig, a walrus, and a horse, respectively. Scratch that, Gyllir was much better looking than Aunt Petunia. And more useful.
But Vernon and Dudley, only ate almost as much as Harry did, with less than half the table manners (his mother would string him up by the toes if he ate like them in front of her). Harry, at 11 years old, was 160 cm, (5'3), and roughly 25 stones (350 lbs). Yeah...so he wasn't even a little human. This came with a matching appetite that the Dursleys had decided it would be in their best interests to oblige. Thus, a pack of bacon and a dozen eggs for one breakfast.
When Dudley came in that morning he was loudly commenting on how they would sell Harry's old school uniform.
"He's not going to Haberdashers anymore, so we might as well sell the stuff, no need to tell them a freak wore them before, and then we could buy the new Xbox 360 S!" He told his mother with a smirk.
Haberdashers Aske's Boys School was one of the best schools in the country and where Harry's parents paid for him and Dudley to go to primary school. Dudley has his little gang of friends, of course, but was fairly powerless there because he was neither smart nor good at sports, unlike Harry. So his cousin could terrorize the neighborhood all he wanted, but at school, Harry was the best footballer, even played for a club on their U14 team, and had perfect grades, while Dudley barely passed and played no sports. The Dursleys insisted that he must've cheated to beat their precious Didditums, or whatever they called him.
"Are you even going to Haberdashers next year?" Harry asked casually. He had already finished his breakfast.
"Why wouldn't I?" Dudley scoffed, "I'll finally get to enjoy being shot of you while you're off with your fellow freaks."
"Because my parents pay your tuition?" Harry asked rhetorically.
"Dudley will be going to my Alma mater." Vernon snapped at him, "A perfectly respectable school."
Not if it took people like Dudley.
Dudley faltered, "But I don't wanna change schools!" He whined, alligator tears brimming at his eyes.
"Oh, darling!" Petunia simpered, "Don't you worry! Smeltings is a fine school, better than Haberdashers, even!" She could only barely fit her arms around her dangerously obese son.
Now there was a fat lie, if there was a better school in the area his parents would've sent him there from the get go. Of that, he had no doubts.
"Here that, Potter?" Dudley said nastily, head peeking through Petunia's stick like arms. "Haberdashers is crummy school!"
"It's a good thing I'll be going to H-"
"DON'T SAY THOSE KINDS OF WORDS, BOY!" Vernon roared, suddenly furious and in his face.
"Ignoring it isn't going to make it not there." Harry shrugged.
Vernon slapped him.
And promptly grabbed his hand painfully. Harry blinked at the suddenness, though it wasn't the first time his aunt or uncle had tried to hit him.
He resisted the urge to tell him not to hurt himself. It was in this brief reverie that they heard the mail slot click.
Vernon glared at Harry, "Go get the mail boy."
Harry got up like he hadn't a care in the world, which he'd learned from his older, not oldest, brother, and wondered idly, "Wonder if I'll get my Hogwarts invite."
He was out of the room before Vernon could fully formulate his splutter of outrage.
He wandered over to the doormat and saw three things, a postcard from Vernon's sister, a brown envelope that looked like a bill of some sort, and another thick envelope made of what looked suspiciously like parchment, addressed in green ink to:
Mr. H. Potter
The Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
He picked it up quickly and turned it over, carefully examining the wax seal that depicted a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle on a multicolored shield with an ornate H in the center.
This must be his Hogwarts letter.
He walked back to the kitchen and tossed the two other letters on the table. He did not waste time sitting down, standing instead at the end of the table farthest from the other occupants of the house.
"Dad!" Dudley wasted no time wailing, "Dad! Harry's got a letter!"
Harry had just begun unfolding his letter when Vernon snatched it away from him.
"That's mine!" He exclaimed.
"Who'd be writing to you?" Vernon challenged.
"Hogwarts!" Harry snapped, "As you well know! I want my letter back!" He reached out to grab it but Vernon pulled it out of his grasp.
Petunia gasped in horror, "I'll have none of that nonsense in this house!"
"Go to your room, boy." He snapped, trying to grab Harry to toss him out, but was quite unable.
Harry glared at his uncle, "You can give that to me or I can take it." He said icily, "It's mine and after I have it I won't even have to come back here until the end of the summer." He said.
Vernon and Petunia exchanged looks.
"You know you can't stop me from going, I'm not even your actual nephew." Harry added.
Petunia glared at him, "Show us respect, boy! We've put up with your lot's nonsense for years when we didn't even have an obligation to!"
"You're being paid!" Harry retorted in annoyance, "And why would you want me here if you can get some money without me being here?"
They stopped to consider that, and his uncle came to a decision first.
Vernon thrust the letter at him, "I want you out by dinner!" He grumbled, "And you had best not be back until at least August! I'll have none of their lot's rubbish around here when you get back either."
He stalked off.
Petunia gave him a hard glare. "My sister died for you, boy, there is no amount of money that will compensate for that!"
Harry watched her walk away awkwardly, guilt squirming his way into his stomach. He'd been told repeatedly that it wasn't his fault, but he'd never quite been able to rationalize...the Potters had died protecting him, who wasn't even their son. When his parents were perfectly capable of taking care of him. Why had they left him with the Potters in the first place? Why had the Potters taken him? Why had Voldemort come for them? For him?
Hell, he wasn't even sure if Petunia actually cared that her sister had died, or she just used it to make him miserable. Well if she did, it worked.
There was dead silence as Harry hadn't even noticed when Dudley had gone back to his room, lost as he was in his whirring thoughts.
Unable to bring himself to read the letter anymore, from people who thought him a hero for surviving an attack his adopted parents had died in, no less, he went upstairs to pack.
He looked around his childhood bedroom with a fond look, it had been his one solace in this house. The room was magically expanded to a respectable size and the door was enchanted to make anyone not him or under the age of 1,000 think that there was nothing interesting inside and move on. None of his best friends had ever been to England, so he didn't have to worry about that, nor had any of his teammates ever been invited to the Dursley house.
The room itself was painted a neutral off-white, and had one small window across from the door. It was furnished with a queen sized bed, good sized desk, large wardrobe, several shelves with books and trinkets he'd made or bought and was allowed to keep on Earth or wasn't allowed to take to home, and a life size practice dummy so he could practice with his sword when he was here.
He was happy to finally get to pack everything like he was moving out. He pulled his enchanted luggage (which he used every time he switched realms) out from under the bed and waved a hand to make his bed before setting it on top of the light blue duvet.
It took him a long time to track down everything he wanted to move home. All of the clothes he liked, or that shouldn't have been at Privet Drive in the first place went first. He put all of his jackets and jumpers in, both his Manchester United and English National Team jerseys, his club uniforms, both pairs of cleats, all his good tee shirts, his extra pair of trainers, his formal suit, his ties, his shorts, socks, everything.
Next to go was all of the books he didn't have a copy of at home already. There were not too many of these, especially once he decided he did not need his old school books.
Many of the trinkets on his shelves were taken, as were several of the movies and video games he did not have copies of at the palace. He grabbed his practice armor and carefully placed that on top, before shutting the case closed with a definitive snap and zipping it shut the rest of the way. He grabbed his dulled practice sword and tossed it onto the bed next to the luggage and went to his desk.
His laptop was packed into its case and the portable mouse was put in the front pocket with the charger while his small speaker was put in its own travel case and his headphones were likewise secured. His iPod was simply set down on top. He rolled up his earbuds and put them in his jean pocket and stuffed his iPhone 4, which he'd gotten this past Christmas about six months before it came out, in his back pocket. The phone charger and all the other electronics were put into his empty school bag, which he'd retrieved from the depths of his wardrobe earlier.
The last thing he had to do was grab his things from the bathroom he shared with Dudley. He put all of his things on the top shelf of his wardrobe and shut it. After one last look around, and the quick and instant decision to toss all of the few toys he had in the room in his bag (a few toy soldiers, one remote control car, a kite, and a football), he could no longer ignore the letter that seemed to take over his now empty desktop.
He walked over slowly, forcing his feet to keep moving. This letter would change his life. There would be no more running back and forth between his family and the Dursleys, he would live at the school, he would not be able to say anything about his family, nor would he be able to see his brothers or sister every weekend. He wouldn't be able to play for the Southampton Youth Program anymore.
He stared at the green ink before he steeled himself and pulled out the parchment. It read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry quickly flipped to the equipment list and wondered where on Earth they could find all of these things.
Literally.
He could probably get them at home, but he knew it would be less legally grey if they could buy it all here. And everyone else at the school would be shopping on Earth.
His mum would know. Probably his brother too.
We await your owl. Harry didn't have an owl to send a reply back with. At best he could send a reply with his dad's ravens, if they let him anywhere near them, that was.
This school was clearly not designed for godlings living with non-magical mortals.
He put the letter back in the envelope and grabbed his jacket, which he put on and then put the envelope in. He made it from his desk to his bed a few steps and closed his eyes, focusing intently on what he wanted to do and carefully pulled together the power from around him and arranged it to create the effect, allowing it to channel through his watch.
He didn't need a focus, but it certainly made it easier to hold the power arrangement he wanted to make. And the watch he was wearing was perfect for it anyway, he'd made it himself out of Uru and the leathers that his armor was made of. The watch metal was a matted silver color, with a darker blue face, the same silver color for the hands and numbers, and a black wrist strap. The back of the watch was engraved with his father's signet, which he had laboriously done by hand, while the frame of the watch had runes engraved in it.
He was incredibly proud of it and the three smaller faces on the right, left, and bottom one for seconds, one to measure the magical capacity of the watch, and one for the amount of latent magic in the air. He was a watch enthusiast and had several other expensive watches for all kinds of things. He probably had hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of watches.
He opened his eyes and was pleased to see the luggage was now able to fit in the palm of his hand and put it in his pocket. His sword went into an invisible scabbard on the one belt he wore everywhere (and boy did it have tricks gimmicks), while he silently apologized to Eir-Gram for renting its room for a few minutes.
He threw his backpack over his shoulder, took one last look around and then went to turn out the lights and shut the curtain over the window. He didn't even bother to yell that he was leaving and instead went to the kitchen and fiddled about in the keys drawer until he found his beat up house key, which had a red paracord attached as a keychain, and went to find his bicycle.
He wasted no time locking the door behind him and riding down the street, more eager than ever to leave the wretched street. He peddled quickly, standing on the magically reinforced bike (just to make sure it could hold his weight) and barely watching where he was going as he moved.
He rode past the park and eventually out of the neighborhood. He made it to a local preserve and easily picked his trail and rode for about 15 minutes, until he was surrounded by trees, before he reached a secluded clearing.
He got off his bike, holding it by the handlebars, and pulled out his phone, shooting quick texts to his friends on Earth to tell them he was going off the grid for a bit, and a text to the Dursley group chat to tell them he was gone. He put his phone in his backpack and activated the protective runes on the bag, because magic and tech did not mix, and said clearly,
"Heimdall, whenever you're ready."
A moment later a massive beam of colorful light slammed down to the ground around him and propelled him upwards in a roaring tunnel of light. He could see the whole of the upper cosmos from his view and he never tired of seeing Yggdrasil in all its beauty, though he did make sure to hold onto his bike tightly, lest he drop it and it fall through space. And he rather liked his bike.
It seemed to end too fast and suddenly Harry was standing in a golden dome facing a dark skinned man wearing golden armor and brown leathers. The man was tall and stood on a raised dais.
"Welcome home, my prince." He greeted in a deep baritone.
"Thanks Heimdall." Harry said, giving the man a quick wave.
Harry made his way out of the dome, walking his bike next to him until he made it out onto the bridge itself. He quickly mounted his bike and rode towards the shining palace and golden city visible ahead.
If this had been his first time viewing it, he probably would have been awed by how beautiful the whole thing was, advanced beyond comprehension, ancient to even the oldest of the universe, and fully statuettes with magic. Flightcraft flew above the city going all directions and buzzing with energy, the water below him sparkled a deep, almost unreal, blue and further up he could see longships full of cargo planted at ports around the city or sailing in the open waters from one part of the flat planet to the other. The general din of noise grew louder as he approached, confirming the large population of city dwellers as he rode.
Getting off the bridge and onto the smooth stone roads leading into the city was no challenge and he rode past homes, businesses, shops, restaurants, workshops, taverns, theaters, school, bakeries, boarding homes, banks, forges, and parks. Eventually past the inner city walls and into the governmental district.
The Einherjar officiers' headquarters was a wide two-story building with many windows and doors, while the council work building was a tall, thin circular shape and was made almost entirely of glass, it seemed and had gold framing. The main judicial building was a grand wooden building with massive pillars in front and stood proudly in the middle of a park, and Harry knew it contained several court rooms and offices. There was even a fancy looking building that seemed strange because the gothic architecture clashed so horribly with the marble it was made of, an office place for the "red tapers" as he and his brothers called them. Surrounding these buildings were cafes, bakeries, taverns and butcher shop, amongst boarding houses, gardens, and a school.
People bustled about going about their daily business and cart vendors shouted about souvenirs for those visiting the capital and G-papers that give updates on the events of the past day or even snacks and enchanted trinkets. Young kids ran about playing, chasing balls or using wooden swords to play fight while their parents worked or watched. Above him birds flew overhead and he spotted two very recognizable ravens, who swooped low towards his head before pulling up and flying back in the direction they came from. Harry ignored everything for now and continued his ride, getting calls of greetings as he went through the crowds. For those he only smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, and continued until he reached the massive golden palace arrayed in the middle of the city and went around the side to a less noticeable entrance and the guards opened the doors for him.
He was met immediately by two nondescript women wearing simple frocks, one whom he gave his bike and sword, the other whom he gave his backpack and resized luggage. They left with two quick bows to take his stuff to his room, while he went in search of his father, who probably already knew he was here.
He checked his watch, which was enchanted, like all of his watches, to switch time zones with him. At 5pm Asgard time (11am England time), his father would be in his study.
He walked through the palace with an ease that betrayed his years spent navigating it, barely paying heed to the bustle of Einherjar guards, staff, diplomats, government officials, warriors, and the occasional visitor. The walls were made of stone and much of the architecture, of gold, while tapestries, murals and windows decorated the walls and even the ceiling. There were a few doors, but most divides were covered with curtains if there were any barriers at all. Most of the halls opened straight onto the terraces and balconies overlooking the city. The palace was fairly easy to maneuver if you knew your way around, there were stairs, elevated halls and ramps, and elevators to and from every floor, usually multiple, so you could move anything about inside the golden fortress.
His father's private study was on one of the upper levels of the palace so it took him a few minutes to get all the way up there and to the correct hall. He knocked on the door politely and was invited in almost immediately.
"Welcome home, my son." His father greeted. The All-Father was taller than most humans, but only slightly above average height for an Asgardian, strange considering how tall all of his children were, but had broad shoulders and a large muscular chest, despite his age. His face was worn and old, but distinctly lacked the usual number of wrinkles that would be expected of an older man. His hair fell just beyond his shoulders, was wavy, and had long since gone white, but you could still see his black roots near his scalp. His beard was neatly groomed and easily covered the lower half of his face, but his most prominent feature was rather his lack of feature, specifically his one eye, which was sky blue and looked ancient. Where his other eye should have been there was instead an ornate golden eyepatch, the only remnant of wars long gone.
"Thanks dad." Harry grinned, sitting in on of the armchairs in front of the desk his father was working at. "I got my Hogwarts letter."
"Congratulations, my boy." Odin said warmly, putting down his stylus. "Have you accepted it yet?"
Harry shook his head sheepishly, "I don't know how to get an owl to send a response."
His dad looked like he was trying, at least, not to laugh at him. "I'll write you a note and have a servant send it." He told him. "But normally, I believe they have owls trained to send letters."
"Oh." Harry blinked, "I need to learn more about the Midgardian Wizarding World." He concluded.
"Your mother and Loki both know quite a bit about such things, I suggest you ask them to direct your studies."
"I will." Harry nodded. "I also have to go school supply shopping, apparently. I'm not exactly sure where they want me to buy this stuff." He handed the letter to his dad, "I mean, I know we can get it here, but I thought you might want me to buy it on Midgard." He put the list on the desk and his father picked it up.
"You would be correct." Odin agreed. "Your mother and I will take you before you return to Privet Drive."
Harry thought he did a good job hiding his surprise, but his dad laughed at him anyway. "It is tradition there, I believe, and this is part of the reason I am stepping down, it will not be as much work on my part to get the other Skyfathers to agree to allow a trip to Midgard."
Harry nodded, forcing a memory of a conversation he'd sought out months ago, when they had first found out Thor was to be king. He still didn't know what to do with the information.
"Alright." He didn't have to force a smile.
"It has been far too long since I have been to Midgard." His father observed absently. "Over a millennia."
That was true. To Harry's knowledge, his father had never gone to Earth while he'd been alive, even if the rest of his immediate family had shown up at some point.
"A millennia?" He asked incredulously, "Your old." He told him, jokingly.
"No, you are just younger than anyone has any right to be." His father retorted.
"Jealous?" Harry jabbed back.
"Of the awkward proportions or the high pitched squeal we call a voice?"
Harry laughed, his "high pitched squeal" making a rather nice sound, in his father's opinion.
"Have you greeted your mother yet? Or did you forget?"
Harry's face shifted to one of panic as he looked wide eyed, "...No!" He jumped up and before he could scramble out completely, his father called after him, "She should be in her garden!"
Odin laughed at his youngest son's antics and grabbed his stylus again, reading over the Hogwarts acceptance letter to write an appropriate response.
A/N: Good? Terrible! Want more? Let me know if you want me to publish more of this story! PLEASE REVIEW!