Summary: Harry decides he'll do anything to destroy Voldemort, with no idea it'll include werewolves, elves, the Veil, the Chamber of Secrets, Azkaban, exotic new powers, and… a secret identity? Will he be able to keep his secrets without losing everything else?
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Rated For: Language, violence, sexual innuendo, and some child abuse
This is my first fanfic; if I'm totally botching the thing, please tell me. I only ask one thing of you: If you wish to tell me that my story sucks, please tell me why it sucks. I can't fix anything or improve my writing in any way if I have no clue what's wrong with it in the first place. Thank you and happy reading.
'…Wandless Magic is undoubtedly the most complicated and difficult thing any witch or wizard can achieve, and very few can. Albus Dumbledore is known to do a bit and You-Know-Who can barely summon something using it. Only Merlin himself could ever do much (up to the level of the stunning spell), which, coincidentally, is why the Ministry does not even bother trying to keep tabs on wandless magic. Not that they could anyway...' –page 284, Dark and Powerful Magic by Hymen Oozier.
Chapter 1: Discovery
Harry Potter trudged disconsolately down the stairs of number 4 Privet Drive dreary-eyed and tousle-haired. It was his first day back from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and away from dreamless sleep potions. His night had not gone well. He had been ignored the entire trip home to the Dursley's, and by the time he arrived at the house, the car ride had made him a bit lethargic. But tired or not, insomnia had kept him awake and he had ended up pacing around his room in grim despondency.
When he was younger and something bad happened to him, he would accept it as part of his life and dream of something better. As of last year thoughts would race through his head like a whirlpool. 'Why me' was what they mostly consisted of. But last night, Harry had made a decision. Thoughts had still raced through his head, but those thoughts had been thoughts on what he could change, not what he couldn't. Perhaps it was a sign of maturity, perhaps it had to do with the fact that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders and he had absolutely no bloody idea what to do about it. Harry personally didn't care. He repeated the Prophesy in his head:
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not
And either must die at the hand of the other
For neither can live while the other survives
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...
Merlin, why did it feel like something was missing from the Prophesy? Because it trailed off? No, it was something deeper. Damn it, Dumbledore had to be hiding something from him again. But considering last year, he was most likely only jumping to conclusions.
Harry continued down the stairs, it was noon already. He had tried to do something useful last night. He felt like he should at least try to be helpful in fighting the war. So Harry had done the only thing he could do: study. He'd made flashcards trying to memorize spells and their affects, he thought he'd drift off eventually, but he hadn't. Until five in the morning that is.
Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. It appeared that Dudley had just gotten up as well. Dudley had made vast improvements, Harry had to admit. Wrestling had giving him more muscle and less fat. But that apparently didn't mean he wasn't still stuffing himself. Dudley looked to be on his fourth helping of breakfast, while Aunt Petunia was still munching away on the gourmet salad she'd made herself for lunch.
Harry sat down and started serving himself, his aunt: ignoring him, his uncle: eyeing him as if he were some bloke come in off the street who normally nicks food out of rubbish bins. Taking note of the bangers across the table Harry began to ask Dudley if he would pass them over, but apparently, fate, or whatever it was that kept screwing with his life, had other plans.
"BOY!" Vernon hollered at the top of his lungs, "WHAT IS THAT BLOODY OWL DOING PECKING ON OUR WINDOW?"
Harry turned and looked at the window above the sink to see a large tawny owl with a letter and a small package in its talons rapping at it, "Well, he's obviously trying to get in."
"AND WHAT WILL MAKE HIM STOP THE RACKET?"
"Um… letting him in," Harry responded, wondering how far he could push his uncle with this.
Vernon stopped yelling (he was most likely remembering what Mr. Weasley. Moody, Tonks, and Lupin had told him at Kings Cross yesterday), but his face did change from red to maroon, "Then why don't you go let him in."
Deciding it was pointless to argue and push the envelope anymore then he already had, Harry walked over and opened the kitchen window. Apparently this was going to be another average day at the Dursley household, complete with annoyances, the word 'freak' used twenty times a day, and lots and lots of yelling. To his surprise, however, upon opening the window the owl flew right past him. And he was even more surprised when it flew over to Vernon and dropped the letter and package right on Vernon's lap before flying out again. It ended up as one of those times when it's really, really loud, yet you can only catch a few snippets of what people are saying. To stop the neighbors from being scarred for life by the sights and sounds of the Dursley's freaking out; Harry quickly closed the window and the curtains.
"BOY WHAT THE HELL…"
"VERNON, STOP YELLING IT'S ONLY A BIRD!"
"Dad…"
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE PLAYING AT…"
"Um… no, really, Dad, look at this."
Harry glanced to the letter Dudley was reading, what the hell was in that thing? He reached for it but Dudley, being a head taller then Harry held it out of his reach.
"Hey, give me that," Harry made a grab for the letter and ended up tackling his cousin.
"IF ONE OF THOSE IDIOT BIRDS EVER ENTERS MY HOME AGAIN…"
"ATTENTION VERNON, DUDLEY, AND HARRY," everyone immediately clapped their hands over there ears and Dudley, who was about to succeed in putting his cousin in a headlock, froze to the sound of Petunia Dursley with a megaphone, "THE LETTER IS ADDRESSED TO ME, PUT IT ON THE KITCHEN TABLE AND NOBODY GETS HURT!"
Grumbling Harry picked the letter up off the floor and slapped it on the table.
"Thank you," Aunt Petunia reached for her letter but Vernon got there first.
"I'll read it," he growled at his wife before clearing his throat. "Ah-hem, Dear Mrs. Dursley… yada, yada… blah, blah, blah… DOES THIS MAN EVER GET TO THE POINT?"
"Second paragraph, Dad," Dudley rolled his eyes at his father.
"Oh, yes. Thank you son, I always knew you were the smart one…"
Harry rolled his eyes and waited for his uncle to carry on.
Vernon continued, his mustaches giving a little leap upward as he did so, "Blah, blah, blah… Your safety may be at risk…" he gave a snort, "to insure you have a decent way to contact help when there isn't enough time to reach the telephone… What is that man…? I have supplied you with a device that will bring me to your direct location in a matter of nanoseconds?" Vernon looked up, one eye twitching madly, "What damn device? And what in the world are nanoseconds? Some kind of freak term?"
"Nanoseconds, are like, really short amounts of time." Dudley said dully.
"One billionth of a second, dear," Aunt Petunia responded. "Now perhaps I should keep this device thing since I'm home with Harry most of the day."
Vernon pulled out a small square, box-shaped object out of the package. It had a big red button on it along with a note that said 'must hold for five seconds' on it.
Vernon practically growled at the little gadget that could potentially bring another wizard into his home, "Liar, the man said he could be over in one billionth of a second, not five and one billionth… And I will be the one in charge of this thing. In charge of throwing in the fire…"
Harry didn't care one way or another what happened to the thing if he wasn't going to have possession of it anyway. But when he looked at it, he felt something on it. Like an aura of sorts.
"I don't think that's going to work," he told his uncle.
"You don't think what's not going to work?"
"Burning that device; it has an unbreakable charm on it."
Vernon looked down at it, "then I guess I'll just have to keep it safe with me so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. You know how those neighbor kids are with buttons."
Petunia just sank into her seat and pouted, stabling her fork rather menacingly into her salad. Soon everyone else was following her lead and sitting back down for breakfast. Harry rubbed his right arm and berated himself for being so stupid as to pick a fight with a wrestling champion. What was getting into him lately? Maybe he just still wasn't over Siri… Harry repeated the words 'I will not think of Sirius' in his head fifteen times before he gave up because, ostensibly, to try to forget about someone by repeating their name in your head fifteen times does nothing but make you depressed.
Harry sighed resentfully before asking of his cousin, "Pass the bangers, please."
"Why should I?"
"Because I said 'please', just hand over the bloody bangers."
"No."
It was at this point that Harry cracked. His head was hurting, he was tired, and he'd just had enough of being pushed around. Dumbledore had done it all year. The Dursley's had done it all his life. He didn't know why he exploded just then, normally he would have forgotten about it in an instant, but something was building up inside of him, and it all seemed to come out in two simple words:
"Accio, bangers!"
It could have ended there. Dudley could have laughed at his pathetic attempts at retrieving the platter and Vernon could have gone off into a mad rant about how unnatural his nephew was. But the thing was… it didn't end there. The whole plate of bangers flew towards Harry. The room went silent as the plate landed with a soft thud on the space of table right in front of Harry. Vernon's eyes narrowed and Harry's mind started racing again, so did his heart.
Harry stood and dashed up the stairs. He was going to get expelled. He was sure about it. Once in his bedroom, he started pacing. What could he do? Wait around until the Ministry officials arrived, then invite them to a cuppa? Pace around the room until he passed out from getting too dizzy to walk? Or perhaps he'd just study some more. He could explain what had happened before they broke his wand and maybe someone would believe he had left his wand upstairs and didn't know why the spell had worked the way it did. He found it hard concentrating, however. He waited for four hours constantly reading the same paragraphs of his books ten times before realizing he was doing so, waiting impatiently for something grievous to happen to him. But nothing did.
Then, at four twenty-seven that same evening, an owl taped on his window making him fall off the bed in shock. But it wasn't from the Ministry, it was from the school. Harry took in his hands the broom-shaped package the owl had delivered. It was his Firebolt, in perfect condition. It also included a note to him from McGonagall informing him that he was back on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
What was going on here? There was no letter, no Ministry officials, and he had had no wand when he had done that summoning charm. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before though. There had been the whole snake thing with Dudley and… wait a second. He hadn't gotten in trouble for the snake thing either. But there was the pudding incident and… Dobby. Dobby did that. Aunt Marge, however… Could it have had something to do with her being a Muggle? Harry wanted information. He wanted it here and now.
So thanking Merlin that his Firebolt had an acceleration of 150 miles an hour in ten seconds, Harry ended up flying to King's Cross then through Platform 9 ¾ before following the train tracks to Hogwart's. The wind blew through his hair as he once again felt the joys of being free, just being a part of the air, the world.
Landing noiselessly on the streets of Hogsmeade, Harry made the decision that he would not try to sneak directly into Hogwarts. Knowing Dumbledore, there would probably be some kind of trap for intruders of something. Not to mention the portraits were going to be watching the place. The passage from Honeydukes turned out to be an excellent way in. And once inside, things started going according to plan for once.
Harry snuck into the restricted section of the library and 'borrowed' all the books that looked worth reading. It was definitely a good thing Madam Pince was on holiday. He shoved the reading material into an old backpack of Dudley's that he'd retrieved from the rubbish bin and kept just in case.
The school looked different in the summer at night. No one graced the halls except the portraits, which Harry hid from under his invisibility cloak. Not even the ghosts were around, at least according to the Marauder's Map. Harry glanced down at the Map. Dumbledore was not in his office. Harry's brow furrowed at the thought of his Headmaster. Then he remembered all the old, leather-bound books up there in his office. He wondered if one of them held the answer he wished for. Dumbledore seemed to know many things others didn't, perhaps something could be discovered there. Harry found a way into the Headmaster's office within five minutes.
Still under the invisibility cloak, he crept in quietly so not to wake the sleeping portraits before checking out the bookshelf. It was full of interesting looking volumes, such as one entitled, 'The Book of Wizarding Law' and another, called Dark and Powerful Magic. Harry took in the scent of them, and could almost see why Hermione was so into books. Well… almost.
"And," Harry had thought as he looked at them, "They don't have charms on them to keep them from being magically altered like most books are."
He studied them a while, he had no idea how he'd just figured out about the charms, but at the moment, he didn't care. Books mingled with important documents from the Wizarding legislature to the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps he could copy them; he remembered a charm being used once that could do things like that. Wondering whether he could do it without a wand as he had last time he needed something done, Harry whispered the incantation. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing happened. Harry finally got so angry with the object (but angrier at himself) that he just kicked the bookcase softy. And the books did exactly what he wanted them to. They even shrunk to fit into Dudley's old backpack.
Harry supposed he would always look back on that day and wonder. He had not gotten all the answers he wished for, but Dark and Powerful Magic, which was written by a official at the German department of Mysteries named Hymen Oozier (what kind of name was that?), had told him enough. According to Oozier, barely anyone could do wandless magic that was in any way useful. At one time in their early years a young witch or wizard might be able to make a candle flicker with it, but only Dumbledore and Voldemort could really do something of importance with it.
Oh, how surprised Hymen Oozier would be if he saw what was going on in the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet Drive.
Harry, who sat crossed legged on his bed. He pointed his index finger at a mouse, which was currently scurrying around in a cardboard box, and in a clear voice uttered the words "Stupefy!"
The mouse immediately fell, making a soft sound, no louder then a heartbeat, as it hit the ground.
"Well," Harry turned to his owl Hedwig, "I've got the stunning spell down."
He checked off another spell from a list he had made. It had been six days since he'd returned to his room with everything he believed he needed, and the room had gone through many changes indeed. Hedwig hooted from the pile of textbooks she was currently perched on top of, right next to Harry's unexploited wand. The room was now full of books, simmering cauldrons, lab rats (courtesy of Hedwig), complicated diagrams, and many other various odds and ends. A formally unused fireplace whose dusty ashes and emptiness had once added to the forlornness of the untidy room had a fire in it. It was a magical fire that gave off a gentle orange and yellow glow that merged with the light of a single electric lamp. All around the walls were bookshelves lining almost every space of wall in the room. A desk was there also, and most of the junk had been either cleared out or repaired. Harry had made the desk and shelves from the masses of old wood in the shed that Dudley had once wanted to make into a tree house but didn't because he was too busy ditching summer school. The room had an eccentric look about it, that was for sure, and it teamed with the feeling of magic. An odd sight in the tidy suburban neighborhood, to be sure, even for Harry himself.
Harry sighed; wondering about the new discoveries the Department of Mysteries had apparently made on how magic works. He read up on everything, the papers from the Department of Mysteries were very useful. But they created more questions then answers. Nevertheless, there was one thing he did know: he wasn't going to get caught any time soon unless someone actually saw him doing the magic. He had also figured out he was even more abnormal then he had believed he was. Not a comforting thought. But he'd do anything to destroy Voldemort.
As much as they hoped they could, the Order of the Phoenix was not going to be able to destroy the Dark Lord if Death Eaters were going to start picking them off like flies again. Harry shuddered at the thought. The Ministry, no matter what they told the public, was not doing anything even remotely useful. Okay, so maybe the Order deserved a little more credit. But at the moment, Harry was still not happy with Dumbledore at all. Despite the great information his office had provided.
"But why should I think I can do anything useful either?" Harry thought as he kicked the shoebox to the floor, "How will wandless magic ever become of use for anything other then duping the Ministry? Unless Voldemort takes my wand there's no way it will help me out at all. Voldemort will probably kill me anyway, wandless magic or no…"
BOOM!
All of the sudden, one of the cauldrons (which wasn't really a cauldron, but one of Aunt Petunia's good cooking pots) exploded and sent a huge cloud of green smoke filtering into the air. Harry rushed to his dysfunctional potion and started, tampering with it magically. When the smoke cleared, Harry was faced with a very pissed off Vernon Dursley standing in the doorway.
"WHAT HAPPENED AND WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THIS PLACE?" Vernon managed to roar while taking in the shock of seeing Harry's room for the first time since his nephew had moved in.
Harry didn't know how his Uncle managed to appear calm but he did. The Dursley's had been avoiding him like the plague since the 'banger incident', so no one had dared step into the realm of terror, otherwise known as Harry's bedroom.
"It's okay," Harry reassured him with a grin, maybe it would be okay to freak Vernon out just a little bit, "The wolfsbane potion was saved, I'm making it for a friend who's a werewolf since he can't afford it anymore."
At least according to Ron and Hermione's letter, he couldn't. Harry wasn't about to let the last connection to his parents go because of something as stupid as that. And potions was a lot like cooking in a way.
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE DAMN POTION! I JUST WANT TO KNOW… Did you say werewolf?" Harry smirked at the look on his Uncle's face.
"Uh, huh, and for your information I'm doing this so that I can someday maybe save the world from imminent doom from the evil, psycho wizard who killed my parents and godfather." This was fun…
Before Vernon even had time to register what his nephew had just said, another voice joined the conversation, "Sirius is dead?"
The two whipped around in shock to confront a pale-faced Petunia. She framed the doorway holding a pile of laundry, her blond hair in little wisps around her boney face.
"Ye… yes, a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's servants, k… killed him." Harry managed to choke out, trying not to get too many flashbacks of that night. Why did he even say that? And better yet, what was with Aunt Petunia? "Did you know him?"
But when Harry looked up, Aunt Petunia was already gone. And no wonder, the look Vernon was giving the spot she left was quite scary.
"Well boy," Uncle Vernon picked up the discussion again, "maybe I'll just contact your little freak government and find out if what you're doing is authorized. Or perhaps that old man might want to know something about this."
Vernon waved Dumbledore's alerting device threateningly.
"NO!" Harry shouted in panic, he had obviously underestimated his uncle, "You can't tell anyone, and I… I can do magic on you, and no one will find out! They can't find out… They…"
But before he could finish, Vernon had shoved him against the wall and slugged him across the face. Harry just stared at him. His body froze from the shock of the blow and he felt anger boil in him like it never had. But he knew he couldn't fight back, if he as much as levitated his Uncle, Vernon might drastic. Instinct held him back as much as logic though, fighting back had always made things worse, much worse. It wasn't too often he had gotten hurt badly by Vernon Dursley, but the occasion hadn't been too rare either, at least before he'd started getting his letters to Hogwarts it hadn't. It had been the shock of the whole scenario happening to him again that had kept his mind from reacting quicker.
"You can't do that to me, I'm not eleven anymore. I won't just stand and take it. I'll just tell those so-called freak friends of mine or curse you into oblivion myself!"
"You won't tell anyone boy, not unless you want the whole world to know about the illegal operation going on in this room of yours. You tell, I tell. Got it?"
Harry just nodded icily. That was all he could think to do at the moment."Good. And no healing yourself magically. Tomorrow, you are going to clean this whole place from top to bottom."
Harry groaned, wondering how he was going to get out of the mess he was currently in. He had definitely gone too far, but thinking further, Vernon probably would have made that deal with him eventually.
"How do I get out of this mess?" He wondered, "There's no doubt Vernon can contact Dumbledore. Sure I could threaten my relatives, but all they need to do is push a button and all my plans are over. The only other option I have is to kill them. Ha! I still cringe at the thought of killing Voldemort! At least I'll still be able to do my thing up here, even if I do have to work for it. I've been in worse predicaments before, after all. Still, this is going to be one long summer…"
Oh, how right he was.
Just then an owl flew through the open window and landed gracefully on the hard bed, its wings whispering softly as it landed. Harry untied the letter from its leg and started to read. As he did, he totally forgot about the swelling black eye he had just received.
"Damn you, Umbridge!"
Next Chapter: Harry finds out that what is in the letter and decides to take matters into his own hands, even though Dumbledore tells him not to and the Mirror starts acting weird. If you don't know what mirror, please contact me so I can come whack you on the head with something heavy.
Questions/Comments: Email me: