Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This right here is a story that I am writing down painstakingly in my notebook, and then typing it out here on Word. So, without further ado, let the games begin!

This is simultaneously being posted on FFN. So yeah, go there for earlier chapters.

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 1

Spy Saviors And Revealing Ruminations

A well-dressed man parked his Lexus convertible in front of a very nondescript house in Surrey, England. He looked at the address on the fence.

“Number Four Privet Drive.” He murmured under his breath

Peeking around the neighbourhood, he saw a couple of eyes from a few of the surrounding houses. Making them draw their curtains with a glare, he left his car. Silently, he hoped that a certain new walrus species, Vernon Dursley, was home. He so looked forward to what he was about to do to him.

For the past month, he had been secretly keeping an eye on a certain green-eyed boy residing inside the walls of the aforementioned house. Simultaneously, he managed to make a fine schedule of the people, if they could be called people, he lived with, the wizards and witches who guarded him, and the boy in question himself.

He looked around again, and satisfied with the much-reduced number of nosey eyes, he strode forward through the fence doors. He carefully walked over a tile he knew anchored monitoring wards on the house. Being a non-magical, he shouldn’t trip any of the wards surrounding his target’s house, nor draw undue attention from any of his guards, should they be present.

He smirked. Undue attention indeed. The worst scrutiny he would have to endure today would be from his target, or those idiotically nosey neighbours. And why was that? That was because, per the schedule he charted out, the guard for this shift never, and that means NEVER, came. That short, round idiot just pops into the backyard, walks on the attendance rune, and again disapparates, off to do god knows what.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. His thoughts led to him standing on their porch for three minutes without a sound. He walked up to the doorbell, pressed it, and waited. The calm, innocent tune of the bell almost made him give in to the illusion of normality these monsters created. But he knew these monsters, and he knew that there was no chance anybody would consider the real them innocent. He grimaced slightly when a booming, and frankly extremely intimidating voice shouted out, “BOY! GET THE DOOR!” It was the walrus.

A few seconds later, the oak door opened. A green-eyed boy, with a mop of extremely, and perpetually, messy raven-black hair, stood in front of him. He looked at him curiously.

“How may I help you sir ?” he asked. The man, still staring at the boy, was jolted out of his very vivid thoughts of tying all four villainous Dursleys to a car and letting it race in the Dakar Rally. Eh, he thought, the car would lose anyway. The four of them were too heavy for even a Hercules to carry.

“Good morning sir, I am looking for, umm,” he made a show of recollecting a name, “a certain Mr. Harry Potter. Does he live here?” he asked.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry answered, incredulous.

“James Verlan, MI6. Pleased to meet you, sir!” James held out his right hand.

With an amusing widening of his eyes, Harry grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake. James smiled good-naturedly. But that smile became a fierce scowl at the arrival of a third party.

“BOY! Who’s at the door? Get away from here!” Vernon shouted at Harry, shoving him aside viciously. His feet created small housequakes which James assumed were not at all good for the house.

“Who are you? I have no need for anything you have to sell. NO INSURANCE NEEDED! Get away from here, idiot!” he yelled at James.

James just scowled harder. “I’ll assume you are Mr. Vernon Dursley of Grunnings Drills Private Limited ?”

When Vernon replied in the affirmative, James continued, “I am James Verlan, government agent. I think you should leave the two of us alone. Do you want to know why? It’s because I said so. And why should I be listened to? Well, maybe because I know that your tax statements have been… lacking, to say the least. And as a matter of fact, that’s illegal. It won’t be an execution, something I’d just love to see, but it would be quite a few months in jail. Add to that any confession the rest of your family will make, it would be a very taxing, pardon my pun, year for you. Moreover, there is a shit ton of evidence about matters regarding your nephew. Your taxing year will become, again, pardon my pun, quite a torturous two years for you. So, Mr. Dursley, what will be your choice? Leave the two of us alone, and not touch Harry for the rest of the summer, nor make him your slave, or a nice couple of years in a negative five-star hotel, sponsored by the nation’s taxpayers. Choose, and be wise for once.”

Vernon Dursley’s face turned into a pseudo-rainbow, going purple to puce to red and more. He cycled through fear, anger, a lot of anger, disgust, a lot of fear and essentially even more fear, which increased several notches with every passing second.

“Being a government agent of a very high position, I can easily ramp up the charges. Scotland Yard won’t question us. They learnt their lesson long ago. One word, one command, one lil’ bit of leaked information, and you’ll be spending time in Her Majesty’s Prisons. So, either you go into your living room, or out the door for much, much longer.”

Harry stood aside, rubbing a bruise on his side, while gaping at James. Here was a man he never even knew, defending him, and verbally ripping his Uncle Vernon into shreds. Harry’s respect for the man just rose several notches.

“Mr. Potter, I believe the two of us have a few things to discuss. Could you meet me at the Treat’s Café a bit away from here? I’ll wait there for twenty minutes. If you don’t arrive by then, I’ll assume the worst, and in about thirty minutes, a platoon of crack SAS soldiers will descend upon this face. And they don’t care about property damage.” He finished, glaring at Vernon, daring him to stop Harry.

With a nod of his head, James turned and went down the path to his Lexus, and drove away a few moments later. Shaking with fear, Vernon weakly closed the door and dismissed Harry with a wave of his hand.

Harry wordlessly ran up the stairs into his room. His ears were luckily spared Aunt Petunia’s horrid screech and lil’ Dudder’s nasal whining. Of course, that was because the two… villains… went out to buy Duddy more gifts. Entering his room, he closed the door softly and rushed to open his extremely battered blue plastic closet, and pulled out one of his few clothes suitable for outside wear. Donning them in a minute, he jogged silently down the stairs, and then out the door. He assumed Uncle Vernon was currently drowning himself in whiskey. He didn’t care. It wasn’t his job to keep him sober.

Now out of Durzkaban, Harry was faced with a ten-minute walk to the café. He palmed his wand stored in his pocket. While James seemed good-natured, he, being a muggle, should have no interest in the name Harry Potter. It could be a trap. All the last year’s Death Eater DADA teacher taught him properly, was constant vigilance. Well, he planned to be vigilant now.

He decided to use the walk to ruminate about his life.

Dumbledore, he thought, that old coot just threw him back with the Dursleys. He didn’t even think of his welfare! I saw a person DIE. I got crucioed. I duelled motherfucking VOLDEMORT, barely escaping with my life! And whatever in hell was that cage? And my parents. Did that really happen?

And couldn’t he defend me from all the bad press I and Hermione received? From all the ostracizing. It would have taken just one speech. Just one mention of his innocence. Both fourth and second year. Only Ron and Hermione were at my side, even though Ron was still fearful, in Second Year. And in Fourth Year, it was only Hermione.

AND HE KNEW! THE OLD BASTARD KNEW ABOUT THE BASILISK, RIGHT WHEN HE FOUND COLIN’S CAMERA! It was on his face. AND HE DIDN’T DO SHIT!

In Third Year, Dumbledore had the power, being Headmaster, controller of Hogwarts’ Wards (you can’t be Hermione Granger’s friend and not learn something) and the Chief Warlock. He could block the dementors, and also get Sirius a trial. At least a trial. He didn’t even have that basic right. Then he wouldn’t have had to go back in time, nor take up Hermione on Buckbeak.

Harry sighed. It seemed that Old Dumbles was behind all the shit that happened to him in the past four years. Well, him and old Voldieshorts. He didn’t even know who he could trust.

A tiny voice niggled at his mind. “You do know who.” It said. Yes, Harry decided, he did know who he could trust implicitly.

Sirius, Ron and Hermione. Sirius may have been absent for 12 whole years, but that wasn’t by choice. A sudden pique of extreme immaturity, understandable because of the circumstances, was the main reason he took an extended vacation in Hotel Azkaban. Hopefully, he matured by now.

Ron was usually a jealous git. He just couldn’t understand that Harry hated his fame and the spotlight just as much as Ron loved the Chudley Cannons. Normally Harry would be elated to have a shit ton of money too, but not when the money was tainted by his parents’ corpses. He’d have much preferred having parents rather than money. But Ron as a person was the most loyal guy to exist. He may have abandoned Harry until the First Task, but he came back. He could be made better, and Harry would do his darnedest to see him a better man.

Hermione. She was, to say the least, Harry’s actual most loyal friend. Looking back, he was appalled at how he treated her in Third Year. He was being a true stubborn git. All she did, she did for him. For his benefit. In First and Second Year, she was his second-best friend. But seeing her petrified in the infirmary let Harry know that she was much more important to him. Even after his git-ishness in Third Year, she still stood by him, defending him from Sirius (she didn’t know about his innocence until a few minutes later). Fourth Year, she was an absolute godsend. She spent hours looking for ways out of the tournament, and when that didn’t work, she helped him learn, gave him support, and was in general there for him.

Aaaaaand the Yule Ball. There were no words for her. She looked like an angel in her blue dress. Periwinkle Blue, he corrected himself.

It then struck Harry exactly what she meant to him. It wasn’t enough to say she was his closest and truest friend. No. He loved her.

And there was no way in hell he would do anything about it.

She was already in too much danger being his friend. Getting closer to her would just elevate her status to right under Harry himself.

The status quo in order of death at least.

She was the only person he would give himself up for. And that was why it couldn’t happen. He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to her. Not while Voldemort was alive and hissing.

Harry didn’t realize he walked past the café while deep in his thoughts. James sat inside, looking at him in amusement. He sipped his coffee and buttered up a scone.

He spied a waiter a bit away from him and called him to his table.

“What would you like to order, sir?”

“A pepperoni pizza and a plate of French fries with mayonnaise.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And call that boy over here please.”

“That boy… him?” the waiter followed his pointing finger. “Are you a cop? What did that ruffian do now?” the waiter said, sneering at Harry.

James sighed. It seemed he would have to work faster on the boy’s birthday gift. “Yes, I am a cop. And I’m here to hire said ruffian.”

The waiter, dumbfounded, ran off to call Harry away from his ruminations. Errand done, he jogged back, and James handed him a crisp 50-pound note.

“You never saw us.”

“Why’s empty air talking to me?” he replied with a smirk. James smirked back, and the waiter went away to get their order.

A sheepish Harry jogged in and sat down with James after spying him at his table.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Verlan?”

“A certain series of events, which kickstarted from a certain Halloween night, in a certain co-existing world.”

Harry’s reaction would have been amusing, if not for the wand currently stuck to James’ thigh under the table.

“How do you know about it? Are you a bloody death eater?” He asked, with a venomous tone.

“I wasn’t lying you know? MI6 knows everything going on in your world, or at least that’s what I think. I’m not here to hurt you. We’re here to help.”

Look at me, writing my first full-length fic! Per the wishes of a few of my readers, I will now start posting a chapter every week. Well well well, it’s time for me to say goodbye, so, Perseus, over and out!

Chapter Text

Aaaand Perseus is back, with chapter 2 of my first full-length fic. Beware, mild language is present down below, somewhere. So, yeah, umm, enjoy! (IDK what to write up here!)

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 2

Restaurant Revelations

“What?” Harry asked lamely, dumbfounded at this turn of events.

“MI6 is a secret service. It means we have spies, operatives, and agents everywhere. And we have also infiltrated the Magical World.”

“But… but… the Statute?”

“Is bullshit. Your world oppresses the squibs, creatures and muggle-borns. What did you expect? That they’ll be loyal flunkies to the purebloods, ready to give up their lives rather than find some way to get themselves a better life? They will 100 % ditch the Magical World. I am a squib myself. Give or take a few years, and I would expect your friend, what was her name? Oh yes, Hermione, would leave the Magical World too. And MI6 would gladly accept her into our ranks.”

Harry’s face again hardened, and his tone became venomous. “How do you know about her?” he hissed, his wand again pressing into James’ thigh.

“I’ll come to that soon. Don’t worry. We wouldn’t force any decision on her. We have sleeper agents, one in Hogwarts, who look for potential talent. And well, Ms. Granger was on top of that list.” Harry relaxed, though only a bit. Since James hadn’t tried to kill him yet, he would wait before deciding to run or to stay.

“Now, onto the origins of the magical section of MI6. Our department started in the early 1940s, during the Magical Grindelwald War, whose larger muggle counterpart was the Second World War. We, as in the entirety of MI6, found several wizards and witches close to death, with injuries that no muggle weapon could yet cause. It was a mystery, and so we tried to solve it. We interrogated them, painfully at times. I know, it is inhumane, but so is war.”

“What we found out then scared us. But only then. Soon, we started surreptitiously finding squibs and muggle-borns who left the Magical World. It was easy, since during the war, the Statute was only minimally enforced. Just find some unexplainable phenomenon, keep a good watch, and see if the reason was magic, or mundane. Most of the magicals we found were muggle-borns. Some of them were purebloods out in the Muggle world, but the wizards we already had obliviated them. These wizards, and a few witches, helped us by aiding in OUR magical research. And as spies. Some, quite regrettably, died. But with the increase in the ferocity of World War Two, we had to pause the spying operations, since it was hard to manage both sides. Since MI6 wanted to keep the existence of magic from the Axis, we had the magicals form a separate under the SAS. The 22^nd SAS Squadron M. I assume you know what the SAS is? That squadron had the highest number of unattributed kills and victories.”

Harry nodded.

“Apart from the magicals in the SAS, a few employees stayed on as active agents, though not as spies in the Magical World. The rest we either retired or kept as sleeper agents, who could be reactivated when needed.”

“In the end, we found out two things. Wizards are dangerous. And, wizards are stupid. Well, also that there is barely any loyalty towards the Ministry. Else we wouldn’t have acquired so many muggle-borns, werewolves and squibs as spies.”

“There are currently no innovations or ideas percolating magical minds. The last proper innovations were by your own Dumbledore. The rest were made by the muggle-borns. And of course, did you expect the Ministry to be competent and non-discriminative? These innovations were shut down, and the innovators were gotten rid of. But MI6’s wizarding employees have helped us develop the magic we know into a much more advanced version.”

“But I thought muggle devices can’t work with magic.”

“Well, it depends. Do you know how the Protego shield works?”

When Harry answered in the negative, James continued, “From what we’ve learnt, Magic is of dual nature, as in it can be considered a particle stream, or a non-particle wave. In this case, it acts like a wave. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of destructive interference. Let’s take a sea wave coming in. At a point x, it is at its highest. The highest altitude is, let’s take 5 m. There is another wave made by a machine, which reaches its lowest at that point x. The lowest altitude is 5 m again. When both waves collide, you’ll see that there is barely any disturbance. Both waves cancel out. In this way, consider an incoming spell as one wave, and the protego shield as the other. Both will cancel out, destroying the spell.”

“If we take this concept of a wave, we can build items that can either block the wave or work despite the wave. We have  used that logic to build items that use both magic and muggle tech.”

Harry was openly gaping at that point. James noticed this, and said, “Eat up kid. You’ll need the strength for the day.”

Harry sheepishly began eating. “Go on about MI6’s history, please.” He said, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.

“Sure. When the Second Blood War started, the one with Voldemort’s first coming, we reactivated our sleepers instantly. The new information was worrying. Here was a Dark Lord, inhuman in every way possible, with followers who only looked human. They had no weaknesses, no qualms about killing, no traitors, absolutely nothing we could use surreptitiously against them. For months, MI6 internally debated if we should make ourselves known to the magical world. So that we could offer our help. But before we reached a decision, a wonder baby decided to turn the Dark Lord into Pork Lard. We suddenly had a new Person Of Interest, you, though he was of interest to us for a good reason. Well, good to several, not all. Some of them wanted you experimented upon, to find how to block the Avada Kedavra. But that stopped when you fell off the map.”

“The Dursleys.” Harry muttered

“The Dursleys.” James agreed.

“Dumbledore said that he put up wards here that would keep me safe? He said that my aunt’s blood relation with mum was the reason they were so strong.”

“He did, but your aunt was unnecessary. The strength came from a special feature of Little Whinging.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Little Whinging was coincidentally built on a henge. An ancient Celtic henge. True magical henges are unfathomably powerful. Added to that, the Prime Merlin Leyline passes nearby, under King’s Cross. The route that your train takes goes exactly over that leyline, and even Hogwarts is situated on said leyline. The magic from there fuels these wards. They are stronger than the blood protection Dumbledore claims is here. In theory, you could be placed with any family in a five-kilometre radius.”

“Anyway, oh yeah, keep eating, after the war, we decided to move closer to the Magical World. By closer, I mean moving past the annual ten-minute talk between the heads of government. We set up ties with the goblins. With Gringotts.”

“Why? Why not the Magical World?”

“Well, not the Magical World, since we saw you were absolutely useless. The goblins, inadvertently, hold the most power. They are a warrior race. They control the money of nearly every single witch or wizard. They have useful information, and so do we. The two of us have made nice deals, with Gringotts getting part ownership of Barclays, and a chance to sell their items in the muggle market. We also give them information we’ve collected, and they give us theirs. Plus, we can trust them, and they are mostly leak-proof, since they behead the leaks.”

“We set up our sleeper in Hogwarts again, that’s how we knew about Ms. Granger, when you came for your First Year. It was honestly pretty uneventful. And then you had to take down a troll. Normalcy at its best.”

“Then Second Year…”

“Wait! You don’t know about anything else that happened that year?” Harry interrupted.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“I’ll need assurance of your help, and information about what you plan to do to help me, before I say any more.” Harry said, scowling.

“Sure,” James smirked, “I’ll just skip to your Fourth Year. After the Tournament, when our spy reported old Dumbles proclaiming to children that the most feared Dark Lord was resurrected, we set back into action. We reported our findings to Ragnok, Gringotts Bank Director and kinda the head of the Goblin Nation. There’s still a king and queen he needs to consult, but a lot of power is vested in him. Anyway.”

“Gringotts vaults are connected to their owners by blood, and it monitors their vitals. A life stone, an obsidian block etched with runes and infused with the owner’s blood, keeps track of said owner. It normally glows bright blue if the owner is in good health, yellow if injured, red if near death. Upon death, it cracks. When the heir’s blood is placed on it, it restores itself. If the line ends, it shatters.”

“A certain Tom Marvolo Riddle’s stone was fluctuating in all colours, but mostly black. A black stone was unknown to most employees. Only after looking through ancient Gringotts archives, we found out that it meant that the owner was using dark magic to stay alive. Gringotts did not like that. They have given their support to MI6, and anybody we deem to need the support. And we both know who needs the support. You, Harry, will lead the Magical World to safety yet again.”

“I… what? I’m nothing. I barely survived against him, even though he was at his weakest! Even with a century to learn, I won’t be able to do shit.”

“Uh uh! Then you were alone. Now, you aren’t. If you think we muggles can’t do shit against him, think again. No protegos can block a couple pounds of RDX, or the good old lead shot. Especially when they don’t use any technology, just basic physics, something every magical will ignore, since magic appears to violate the laws of physics, even though it doesn’t. We do have a couple aces up our sleeves.” James said, smirking.

Harry’s hopes were rising. Maybe, just maybe, he could get through this ordeal. Maybe he could live without Voldieshorts hanging over him.

Maybe he could be with Hermione, without any fear, well, except of the fangirls raving after him.

Perhaps his life would cease being a nightmare, one he so dearly wanted to wake up from.

Perhaps he could actually be happy.

“I’ll need to think about it.” Harry responded, unsure how he was supposed to answer him.

He knew he would need all the help he could get to kill Voldemort. But he was still not sure about accepting MI6’s offer. He was worried about the fact that MUGGLES knew about the Magical World, and the fact that they actually could help him. He knew that he would be breaking several laws, and he was even more worried. If he took their help, and someone found out, he would become an outcast in the Magical World. He could then easily go into hiding. But if he didn’t take their help, it would lead to Voldemort taking power. It would mean the devastation of Magical Britain.

It would mean his death. It would mean Sirius’s death. It would mean Ron’s death. It would mean Molly’s, Ginny’s, Fred’s, George’s, Dean’s, Neville’s, everybody’s death.

It would mean HER death. Hermione’s death. It was something he didn’t even want to think about. That made it all clear. He would take them up on their offer. He would train and train and train and then train some more.

All so that he could get rid of that bastard.

The world’s destruction wasn’t a good price. And she was worth it, and even more.

“I’ll do it. I’ll accept your offer. What do I need to do?”

“I’ll tell you everything. But first, Gringotts, and your food, beckon. Eat up quick kid.”

Harry flushed in embarrassment when he realised that he hadn’t finished. He again started chowing it down, but in a way much more civilised than Ron.

“Can you tell me your plan?”

“First, Gringotts, where we’ll get you your Lordship.”

“I have a lordship?”

“Yes, you do. Then, we’ll get you a nice health checkup, and we’ll see what we can do to get your strength up.”

“I’ll have to go to a healer?” Harry said worriedly. He wasn’t scared. No, he wasn’t. He was a strong boy. Nah, he was just all right.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He was bloody petrified. Petrified that people would reject him because of his scars. Internal and external.

Seeing Harry’s tension, James reached out and patted his shoulder. “You’ll be alright Harry. You’ve been through more than anyone should, and I will guarantee no one will reject you. You have friends you can count upon. They won’t shy away from you. They will fight for you, and I expect the Dursleys will have to fear magic a bit more. Your friends will still love you.”

Harry gulped. He didn’t expect him to know Legilimency. Didn’t a person have to be magical for that?

“No, I don’t know legilimency, nor am I magical, as I have already told you.” James said.

“Wha…?” Harry gaped, surprised.

“This is deductive reasoning, and a penchant for reading expressions, two of the things we’ll teach you. By the end of our training, you can stand up against Dumbledore for ten minutes, and Voldemort for fifteen, plus you’ll be able to get the information we need, and simultaneously hide your actual job from the world.”

Harry grumbled something about manipulative old bastards and dark tossers. James, hearing him, said, “I see you’ve had some… revelations… about your esteemed headmaster?”

“Yes. That old… coot… could’ve made my life so much better. He had the power, the support, and even the personnel required! I wouldn’t have had to live in this hellhole. I wouldn’t have had to seek help. I wouldn’t have to feel that death would be a release.”

“Harry. We’ve also found out several things about him. I’ll tell all of it to you once we reach Gringotts.”

“I’m ready.” Harry said, wiping his hands on a napkin.

“Then let’s go!” James exclaimed, fishing out a cellphone from his pocket.

Aaaand another chapter done and dusted. Wait another week for chapter three! My exams are going on, so there is a chance I might delay a bit. Physics coming up. AND I BLOODY HATE CIRCULAR MOTIONNNN!!!!!!!!!!!! Please leave reviews, and let me know how to write better. Perseus, over and out!

Chapter Text

Well, hello there!

Welcome back to Perseus’s Stories, where yesterday’s true stories are today’s chapters.

HAHA, JK

Anyway, Perseus is back with Chapter 3 of ‘The Name’s Potter… Harry Potter’ (IDK why FFN doesn’t accept the triple periods)

My exams are over, and I am finally in peace (NOOOTTT!!!)

My tuition centre has decided to keep ANOTHER test, a 300-mark MCQ. Le me who still can’t understand General Organic Chemistry (it’s the one with Carbon Radicals and Resonance, Mesomeric etc.)

Well, IDC about Org Chem. I still have Inorg and Phy and Maths to rely upon.

Anyway, rant over.

Mild language present down below, in some unknown sentence.

EEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJOOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY   !!!!!!

HEEHEEHEE

Oh how I love being immature.

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 3

Grim Thoughts In Gringotts

“Jones, get the car please.” James said into his cell phone, after dialling a number.

A couple of minutes later, the same Lexus that James drove pulled up alongside the café, though this time with a chauffeur driving it. Harry looked around while getting in and saw quite a few jealous, envious, and curious eyes staring at him from most of the houses on the street and from the café they just vacated.

“Take that Polkiss!” Harry said, sotto voce, thinking about that Malfoy wannabe, who boasted that his parents would buy him a Lexus for his eighteenth birthday.

And now, Harry was getting into a Lexus, two and a half years before that brat would be in one. Small steps, but great victories.

“Hey… yeah… Jones, can you take us to Charing Cross?” James asked the perfectly groomed chauffeur.

“So, Harry, Jones over here, Joshua Jones,” James tilted his head at him, “Is a muggle-born wizard.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter! I must say, even though we don’t know whatever the hell happened, thanks for getting rid of that… villain.” James said, with immeasurable vehemence on the last word. Harry was sure he meant to say worse. He agreed though. Villain was the politest word for him.

Harry took a closer look at Jones. He had greying black hair, with a cleft chin and a well-defined jaw. His arms seemed muscular, and he had a wand holster just under his right wrist.

“As you can see Harry, MI6 has quite a few well-accomplished wizards and witches, most of them graduating from Hogwarts, and a few from Beauxbatons.”

Then Harry asked a question that had been niggling at him for the past ten minutes. “How am I going to contact you once I’m in Hogwarts? I mean, I don’t usually contact anyone by owl, save when Hermione borrows Hedwig to write to her parents. Dumbledore will get suspicious.”

James sighed. This was a problem. “We initially tried to get one of our people the DADA post, but the Ministry got there before us. Now you have a (I’m very sorry diananne, I need her here. Don’t worry, she’ll get her comeuppance) Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, as your professor. She is, per our intel, absolutely incompetent. So, we are unsure why she is there. It could be that she’s keeping an eye on Dumbledore, you know the Ministry doesn’t believe him, or she’s keeping an eye on you, or she’s there to enforce Ministry control over the school. Most likely, she’s out to get control. And the best way to do that would be to prevent any unity against her, and what better way to do that, than oppress the leaders, AKA, Dumbledore and you? She’s out to get you. You’re the more easily manipulated one.”

At Harry’s offended look, James continued, “Don’t deny it, even though it is not your fault. You’re still a kid, and no kid needs to know how not to be manipulated.”

Harry reluctantly nodded. He should’ve been better than this. How could he miss the signs that he was being used, being manipulated? How could he forget that the Ministry was nothing but a flock of sheep, governed by another sheep, and shepherded by bribe money?

“What we do know about her suggests that she is a hardcore bigot, a stereotypical evil pureblood Slytherin. She is definitely going to look down upon Ms Granger, so I suggest you calm her down when you have your DADA class.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“We have three operatives in the Ministry, and one in Hogwarts.”

Harry was stunned. “Hogwarts? How? Who?”

“Classified right now, so don’t ask yet. Once you are completely affiliated with MI6, and you return to Hogwarts, he’ll be your handler.”

“Sure,” Harry replied, his nervousness returning.

“In the meantime, wear these,” James handed Harry an open suitcase with a jacket, a pair of sunglasses and most importantly, a cap.

Seeing Harry’s confusion, James said, “It won’t do to have the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’,” he said in air quotes, “recognized in public.”

“Do you have your wand?” James asked, while Harry adjusted the cap over his head.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m a squib, I can’t open it. And I don’t want to ask anybody either.”

As the car pulled up beside the Leaky Cauldron, Jones exclaimed, “Aaaaand we’re here!”

Before leaving the car, James tapped Jones on the shoulder, and said, “Return to Nicew. We’ll take some time here, so we’ll just grab a cab.”

“Sure, sir!” He said, saluting. After James left the car, he simply drove away.

“Now, let the games begin!” James proclaimed, grandly raising his arms. The duo, Harry and James, went into the dimly lit pub. They appeared like a normal father-son duo trying to enter Diagon Alley. Harry tapped his wand on the brick wall, and it opened, the bricks folding into each other, revealing a sprawling shopping district hidden in the depths of London.

It was almost night, and the lamps were glowing. Harry then took a good look at his saviour.

James Verlan, MI6, was a fairly innocuous late middle-aged man. Harry would guess him to be in his mid to late forties. His hair was greying ever so slightly, and his brownish-black eyes twinkled in the lamplight. He didn’t have the broadest shoulders, but they weren’t too weak either. He had the slightest hint of fat around his waist, but all in all, he could take on easily take on Vernon, since his arms were quite solid.

Harry pulled his cap down lower and sidled up to James, who put his hand lightly on his shoulder. James chuckled and nodded towards Gringotts. Harry grinned and walked forward.

On the route, he took a look at the shop displays, and started mentally listing things he wanted. James pushed him ahead. Harry sheepishly looked at him, and strode towards the bank.

It was just as he remembered it from his first visit. Elegant, magnificent, beautiful… and just pure, plain gold walls. But then he paid more attention towards them, and he was surprised to see intricate patterns carved into them. The pillars had friezes and the columns supporting the domed roof had colourful murals.

The main tellers worked on a high podium, and the lower positions worked on raised platforms, so that they could look the customers in the eye. Several goblins walked through the back corridors, a few holding scrolls in their arms, a couple with refreshments and several with sharp, glinting swords and axes in their hands. It seemed that they did in fact value security.

While Harry stood there mesmerized with all the happenings, James walked up to one of the lower tellers, but looked at one of the main goblins. The one he looked at gaped at him, and rushed down.

“What do you want wizard?” the lower teller goblin sneered.

“Squib. I need to meet Account Manager Jarkill.”

“Jarkill is unavailable. And he doesn’t meet random people from the streets. Don’t disturb me again!” the goblin answered gruffly.

Suddenly, the main teller came up behind the goblin, and shook his shoulder roughly.

“Who is that bas… Oh, sir, I did not see you there. Please, how can I help you?”

“Teller Axeslam, you may leave. I shall handle this customer.”

“Oh… oh, of course, sir!” Axeslam quickly left his post, and the new goblin sat down.

“Good evening, sir, how may I help you?”

“Head Goblin Torchhell, I am James Bancroft, and I would like to meet with my account manager, Goblin Jarkill, of Vault 57.”

Torchhell rushed to a pile of folders behind him, and pulled out a thick one, and handed it over to James. He then picked up a wooden cone, and spoke into it. Harry could distinctly hear the name ‘Jarkill’ spoken into it. He assumed it was some kind of magical intercom.

Harry watched on, fascinated. When James lied about his name, Harry was about to interrupt, but a glare stopped him in his tracks. Now, he saw, or more accurately, heard a voice respond in the goblin language through the intercom, presumably Jarkill.

Torchhell grunted in response to something Jarkill said, and he bowed respectfully to James, and told him, “You can meet Account Manager Jarkill in conference room 21. I shall send for a messenger to lead you to him. Meanwhile, sir, you both can rest on the couches over there.”

Harry was astonished. He just saw a complete, radical change in behaviour. The last time he came here, and the conversation with the first goblin gave him the impression that they were just tolerating of wizards, and Binn’s classes reinforced that impression. Here, he saw a goblin bending and falling over himself to serve James.

“James? Why were they suddenly so respectful?” Harry whispered to him, while another goblin led them to the couches.

“Moneeeeeey!” he responded, drawing the word out. “The Monarchy’s vaults here are THE largest, and it also helps that the only people who can access the magical vaults belong to the magical section of MI6, which has a nice-ish alliance with Gringotts. However in this case it was mostly the size of the vault.”

“The goblins respect all warriors and warrior clans. And MI6 is a prominent warrior clan. Plus, it helps that we treat them with the utmost respect, and not as animals or savages like most magicals. They want equal rights here, and though we can’t give them that, we at least tried to treat them equally.” He said, laid back on the soft leather couch.

“I guess I’ll have to read up on the ‘real’ goblins then.” Harry replied.

“You will. Getting your grades up to the sky is another part of your training.” James calmly said, glancing at Harry.

The sheer horror on his face was amusing. But it was soon replaced with thoughtfulness when he realised that he had to do all he could to get rid of Voldemort. He nodded, albeit with a slight reluctance. While James was proud of him, he couldn’t help but feel bad. He shouldn’t have to become a topper only to kill Voldemort. Harry shouldn’t need to be a figurehead for Magical Britain.

A goblin clothed in the style of a muggle businessman ran out from a door to their left, looked around, and upon spotting them, he walked up respectfully, bowed, and said, “Account Manager Jarkill is ready to meet you, sirs. Please follow me.”

The duo got up and followed the goblin though a very long corridor.

“Jarkill is in the seventh to last room on the right side. I shall excuse myself now, sirs.”

“May you and your family prosper and thrive.” James replied with a bow, and the clearly pleasantly surprised goblin bowed back. Harry too then decided to bow and treat him with respect. If that could cause the wonders he saw today, then why not?

James fixed his coat and tie, and then tried to fix, and only TRIED to fix, Harry’s hair.

Needless to say, he failed.

Giving up, he just took off Harry’s jacket, and told him to drape it over his arm.

“When you enter, bow to him. MI6 has a long reputation of respecting the goblins, and my project WILL NOT mess that up. Now, let’s get going.” James said, before striding down the corridor. Harry rushed to follow, mindful of his instructions.

By the time Harry reached him, James knocked on the door, and it opened magically, with nary a squeak. They both entered and together, they bowed to a wrinkled goblin seated behind an opulent table.

“Well met, Account Manager Jarkill.”

“Well met, sir?”

“James Verlan, and I’m here about a topic of common interest.”

“How may Gringotts help MI6 today? Please be seated.” He gestured towards a pair of single sofas on the other side of the table.

“Harry James Potter.” James replied, seating himself comfortably.

“What about him?” Jarkill asked, with a significant glance at Harry’s disguised form.

James nodded. “He needs our help. A lot of it. As you have guessed, the young man beside me is the person in question. Could you perhaps get the Potter Account Manager, I believe his name was Drakontooth, to come here?”

With a wary look at Harry, Jarkill picked up an ivory conical device encrusted with gold patterns, which Harry guessed was a premium version of the intercom. Again, in the goblin tongue, he asked for Drakontooth.

“He’ll be here in five minutes. Would you like any refreshments?”

“No thank you, sir, we aren’t hungry.”

“Very well. Relax, or say anything you need to.”

“MI6 will have to withdraw some galleons, about 1000, to provide Mr. Potter with some new items.”

While Jarkill nodded and reached for a bag in his desk drawer, Harry gaped at James, who grinned.

“Harry, you are now MI6’s pet project. Just let us help you. Sit back, and well, enjoy the ride for a day or two, because after that you’ll want to run away the day your training begins.”

Harry gulped. He didn’t like it, but he knew he had to do it. He nodded once, but firmly. Jarkill passed over the bag to James, who took it and pocketed it.

“How is it fitting?”

“Shape changing and space expansion charms. The goblins are better at this than you wizards.” Jarkill answered.

Suddenly, the door opened, and another goblin stood at the entrance. Harry assumed him to be Drakontooth.

“Now why did you call me? Tell me now, and don’t waste my time, you dragonshit Jark!” he snarled.

“Drak, you don’t use your time to shovel the shit you make, you stupid goblin! I called you for a reason, and you will shut that gob of yours and help us out!” Jarkill retorted, sneering.

Harry was waiting for the Third World War to break out. There was no chance in hell that Drakontooth, who looked quite fearsome, would not take offence at Jarkill’s remarks.

And they started laughing raucously. James snickered, and Harry was yet again rendered stupefied by the events.

“So, Mr Verlan and Mr Potter, this is Drako…” Jarkill tried to introduce them, but was cut off by Drakontooth’s enraged growl.

“MR POTTER!” he spat, “Gringotts, and by that I mean I, have been sending you letters about your lordship and your vaults since the day you became eleven! I even tried looking for your coming to Gringotts, and I even confronted Madam McGonagall (RIP) about it! YOU NEVER CAME! How dare you dishonour us by ignoring our constant messages!” he shouted at Harry.

“But… but… I never received any letter from Gringotts!” Harry replied, scared of Drakontooth’s outburst.

“What?” Harry’s answer blew the wind out of Drakontooth’s anger.

James interrupted, sombrely, “Albus Dumbledore has been blocking all of his correspondence via owl mail, including Gringotts letters. He never would receive them. They were diverted to Dumbledore himself.”

“WHAT!” both Harry and Drakontooth shouted together.

OH, THE ORDEAL! My wrists are aching. But the rewards are worth it.

THANK YOU WHOEVER READ AND REVIEWED MY WORK! IT PLEASES MY BLOODTHIRSTY… I MEAN NICE YOUNG HEART SO MUCH!!!!

I really wish I had a TARDIS.

But I don’t.

So, I’ll have to settle for doing the HW myself.

Anyway, RIP Dame Maggie Smith. You were the best out of them all.

Very Un-Fun Fact – Dame Maggie Smith died on the same day as Michael Gambon. Plus she died on Jenna Ortega’s birthday, and coincidentally on one of my classmate’s birthday.

So yeah. Life and death seem to go hand in hand.

Sheesh. That was too philosophical. Meh, disadvantage of being bored – You turn into Plato.

Anyway, Perseus, OVER AND OUT!!! Another week for Chap 4!

P.S. Sorry diananne.

P.P.S. Umbridge will see her own blood sooner or later, don’t worry.

Chapter Text

So, without further ado, I present Chapter 4 of the story,

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 4

Grim Thoughts In Gringotts – Part 2

“Yes. He set up so-called ‘Owl Redirection Wards’ around Harry’s house. Their main purpose is to block or turn away owl mail, or in general, mail carried by air. The Hogwarts mail he could intercept en-route, or he could manipulate the wards according to what he wanted. And since he is the receiver of all his account statements, it is deducible that he knows everything about Harry’s vaults and money. It’s impossible to resist such temptation.” James elaborated.

“No. That’s impossible. It can’t happen. Our letters are specifically charmed to only open for the person it is addressed to, in this case, Mr Potter. Unless… unless that bastard found a way to break the charms! I want to KILL HIM!” Drakontooth said, pacing around the room. “How dare tha…”

“It doesn’t matter now. Mr Potter is finally here, and you may start talking about the Potter accounts.” Jarkill interrupted, waving his hand towards Harry.

 “Of course. Mr Potter, your family has the, umm, eleventh largest vault in all of Gringotts. Preceding you are the vaults of Gringotts itself, the Queen of England, AKA the Monarchy, the Ministry of Magic, the Greengrass family, St. Mungo’s, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Longbottom family, the Auror Reserves and some more. You have the fourth-largest family vault and the sixth-largest growing vault.”

Harry was openly gaping. James playfully closed his mouth, and Harry fixed him with a burning glare. He just smirked amusedly.

“Of course, it isn’t yours yet. You will need to properly accept your vault with your blood, and of course, for that, you must wait for emancipation, which is in…”

“Harry IS emancipated.” James interrupted.

“What?” Both Drakontooth and Harry looked at James incredulously. Jarkill just seemed thoughtful.

“The Triwizard Tournament!” Jarkill realised. “It, the Goblet of Fire, uses Goblin magic. Your government forced you to fight in a competition for emancipated adults, and the fact that they used a goblin artifact, and that you really did compete, allowed Magic, the capital M Magic, enough reason to emancipate you! Both you and your government indirectly, unwillingly, AND unwittingly, gave you the clearance for emancipation by considering you as an adult.”

“So, this means I can perform magic out of school?”

“That is correct.”

Harry made to take out his wand, but James firmly gripped his arm. He looked up, and saw the goblins tensed up, glaring at him.

“Withdrawing your wand inside Gringotts, without the express and explicit permission of the goblin, or goblins, you’re with is tantamount to a death sentence.”

Harry’s eyes widened in fear and realisation of what could have happened. He relaxed his arm away from his wand. This time, he decided to take the initiative, and he started apologising.

“Account Managers Jarkill and Drakontooth, I apologise vehemently for my ignorance of your rules and laws, and I beg for forgiveness.”

The goblins relaxed, and Jarkill spoke to James, “The next time you bring him here, make sure he knows all the important rules of Gringotts. As for you Mr Potter, you may draw your wand to check out any non-dangerous spell. I would recommend Reparo or Wingardium Leviosa”

Harry drew his wand out slowly, and pointing it at a folder lying on the desk, he incanted, “Wingardium Leviosa!”. The folder slowly floated up. Harry quickly set it down, and waited for that dreaded letter to come.

He waited a minute.

He waited two minutes.

He waited five minutes.

He waited ten minutes.

When James murmured, “It won’t come,” Harry relaxed and smiled widely.

“Thank you sirs, for this gift.”

“It was more of a Ministerial accident, but we’ll take the credit!” Drakontooth smirked. Harry just smiled gratefully.

“Now, on to business. Mr Potter, per a previous communication with Mr Verlan here, you have come to Gringotts to, one, take up your Lordship, two, get a medical checkup, three, get you affiliated officially with MI6 and Gringotts, and four, start your training and additional education.” Jarkill said.

“Now, the Lordship part is mine. The rest is in the very incapable hands of Jark over here.”

“Shut up Dragonbreath!”

Drakontooth just laughed loudly, and soon later, Jarkill joined in too. James just chuckled. Harry had a feeling that the goblins were very old friends.

After exhausting their laughter reserves, Drakontooth turned to Harry, and said, “Now, we need to get on with setting up your Lordship. First, you will need to give your thumbprints on these documents. Then we’ll check your bloodlines and ancestry and ride to the vaults, where you must accept them. If the stone accepts you, well and good, but if it doesn’t, your head is forfeit. Afterwards, we’ll get you the Potter Family rings, which will get you your Lordship. Then we look at your parents’ wills, according to which we’ll start distribution of the items in the vaults.”

While pressing his thumb into an inkpad, and then pressing it on the documents one by one, Harry jerked his head up.

“Wait, my parents had a will?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Of course they had! Didn’t the Ministry ever inform you? Oh wait, you didn’t get any owls ever.”

“It’s worse. The wills were sealed by the Wizengamot on the emergency orders of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, right after the Halloween events of 1981. We suspect that it was done to put Harry with the Dursleys, who I suspect were never supposed to be his guardians, and if they ever were, it would be as a last resort, that too with several hundred provisos and rules imposed upon them.”

“WHAT!” Harry snarled, “I’ll KILL that bastard!”

“Believe me, that option isn’t too unlikable. But there is more. You’ve already had several revelations. We’ve found more. Dumbledore nominated himself, illegally, as your magical guardian, thereby legalising all the transactions he made from the Potter vaults.”

“HE STOLE FROM ME?” Harry shouted.

“He did. But at least he didn’t use it for personal gain. He funded the vigilante operation, the Order Of The Phoenix, which fought against Voldemort, using your money. Most likely, this time around, he will resurrect it again. If we have guessed right, they will come to take you to their headquarters quite soon. Next time you write a letter, try to make it as plaintive as possible. Ask them, beg them to let you know when you can come. Make it seem that the date would be something to look forward to. Your friends there could also help, you know, by begging Dumbledore to let you come here. Dumbledore isn’t inherently a bad person. He’s just a chess player, a bad one, and he forgets that here, the pieces can die.”

“For four whole years, I looked up to that old coot as a grandfather, even as a saviour!” Harry grumbled.

“That was probably what he wanted you to believe. The only reason you are sent to the Dursleys every goddamned year is to weaken you. To make you vulnerable, meek, mild, and mouldable. To you, he will always seem like a saviour, since he actually was one.” James told him sombrely.

“Anyway, Mr Potter, can we get on with the Lordship? I have other work too.” Drakontooth cut in.

“Please, sir, call me Harry.”

Drakontooth eyed him warily. Never had a person outside the Potter family treated him with such respect. And Harry was for all intents and purposes, not a Potter. By blood he was, but not by his upbringing.

Even Gringotts Wizard curse-breakers respected him out of fear, not due to actual respect for the goblin kind.

He decided to take a chance this time. He grunted back in response, and added, “Call me Drakontooth.”

Harry smiled. It seemed that Professor Binns was actually teaching stuff meant for a dustbin. Contrary to whatever he said, hell, even contrary to whatever the books said, goblins weren’t savage murdering creatures.

It then hit him how appalled Hermione would be to discover that her prized books weren’t supposed to be so prized at all. Then again, he thought, Lockhart should’ve taught her that already.

He realised that the goblins underwent the same racism meted out to centaurs, werewolves and even muggle-borns. He was determined to break the mould and be as respectful as possible.

“Now Mr Potter, I shall be using this knife to lightly cut your palm,” Drakontooth said, pulling a gleaming black-and-white dagger out of a scabbard at his side. Harry visibly and audibly gulped.

“Don’t worry so much. It will only hurt for a moment or two. This knife is a special goblin blade, imbibed with healing magic, which will effectively heal the cut in a matter of seconds. Even then, I would advise you to hold on to something and close your eyes.”

Harry gripped the chair tightly with one arm and both his feet. Closing his eyes, he tensed up and held his breath. Drakontooth slowly lowered the knife until it hovered right above his palm, and with a swift slice, he cut a thin red line. Harry hissed in pain, and opened his eyes to see droplets of blood on his palm. He marvelled at Drakontooth’s skill. He had only just cut a few blood vessels superficially, and it was already healing. The goblins weren’t a people to be underestimated or turned into the bad guys of ages long gone.

He concluded that the bigots of the Magical World were probably too proud, egoistic, and stupid to realise their mistake.

Meanwhile, Drakontooth took the knife, with some droplets of blood on it, and wiped it on a brown canvas sheet that Jarkill unrolled a few seconds ago.

The sheet briefly glowed, and a white patch appeared on it. Slowly, a name formed underneath it.

Harry James Potter.

The white patch coloured in some places, and a rough image of Harry’s face could be seen on it.

“Mr… Harry, look into the patch, it needs to know your face.”

Harry did as Drakontooth asked, and put his head over the patch. The crude image started sharpening, and it soon formed a much better likeness of his face.

“This sheet is magically linked to our records. Your blood gives us your ancestry, and shows close genetic relations, such as brothers and sisters and cousins. Wives or husbands marrying into a family will have to come here and give their blood to the sheet, allowing for their families to get connected to this lineage. See these lines coming out of your image? These will show how you’re related to people. It will take a minute or two to properly form.”

True to his word, the sheet started forming names and faces. Harry was pleased to see the names James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans-Potter on the sheet, directly connected to him. He looked for his grandparents and saw the names Dorea Black-Potter and Charlus Venellus Potter directly above his father’s image.

To a child without any idea of his grandparents or most of his family, this sheet was like a godsend. A few tears escaped Harry’s eyes. James got up from his seat, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Jarkill and Drakontooth looked morose and pitying, and the mood was yet again very sombre.

Harry sat up straight. Taking off his glasses, he wiped away the tears, and firmly said, “Drakontooth, please continue.”

Drakontooth nodded. “This sheet will show your genealogy up to 30 generations, give or take. Before that, Gringotts didn’t offer such a service. Of course, should you like to find out more about your family, you should check the Potter family archives, present in Potter Manor.”

“I have a manor?”

“Yes, you do. You can accept it after you get your Lordship. So, let’s get on with that.”

“Of course.”

“So, Mr Potter, I’ll need some more blood for the family rings, and after that, some more for the vaults.”

Harry gulped again. Even though he knew it didn’t hurt much, he still didn’t like it.

“Now, Harry, this box contains the Potter family rings,” Jarkill said, taking out a box small enough to just fit a wallet. Harry suspected it had several Undetectable Expansion Charms.

With a look at James, he asked him wordlessly if he should take it. When James nodded, Harry looked at Jarkill and held out his hand at Drakontooth.

Drakontooth again repeated the procedure, and Harry’s blood was again dripped on the box. The blood touched it and vapourised.

Alarmed, Harry looked at Drakontooth, and his fears were quelled ever so slightly by the expression on his face. It was akin to a grimace, but from what Harry had learnt about goblins, it meant excitement.

“Harry, the box’s magic has accepted your blood. It now knows that you are of the Potter family. Now open it.”

Harry opened the box. Inside, he saw three big rings. And big would be the wrong adjective. One of them was massive, the other huge, and the last was merely large. Where the crest should be, there was a blank white stone. Jarkill must have seen his curiosity, and he said, “The largest one is the Headship ring. It is given to the Head of the Potter family, who, in this case, is you. The middle one is for your spouse, whoever it may be, and the last is for your chosen heir. But don’t put on yours yet. We have to first fix your life stone, and let you accept your vaults.”

Drakontooth took the ivory mouthpiece and spoke into it,  “Runner Goblin Borhall, bring up the Potter life stone to conference room 21, and then report to room 76.”

“What is in room 76?” Harry asked.

“Memory removal chamber. Since MI6 requires this to be a secret, we can’t risk important information escaping Gringotts. Now wait, and would you like any refreshments?”

Harry declined, but James accepted a cup of tea. In five minutes, right when James drained his cup, the goblin Borhall arrived, and gave the life stone to Jarkill in a wooden box, then scampered away.

“Now, Mr Potter, I’ll need your blood again.”

Harry again assumed his position and braced himself. Drakontooth repeated the process, and dripped the blood onto the stone.

The pieces the blood fell on started glowing a deep blue, almost indigo. But it reassembled itself immediately. Harry recalled the normal colour was a nice cerulean blue. He became worried, and his worry increased when he saw the faces of his companions.

“What happened?” James asked.

“We have no idea, it could be curse residue for all I know.”

“Didn’t Voldemort hit you with a few crucios Harry?”

“Yeah, he did. The imperius too as a matter of fact.”

“Yes, that could be it. The magic is dark enough to show such effects.”

“Don’t worry Mr Potter, our healers will look into it. Now that the life stone is reassembled, you have become the owner of the Potter family and business vaults. Congratulations!” Jarkill said.

“Now, Harry, put on your ring.” Drakontooth said.

Harry picked up his ring. It was still blank.

“Where’s the emblem?”

“Every family has two crests. One is for the family as a whole, and another personal crest for every ring-wearer. The family crest is still intact, but your ring will only show your personal crest.”

Harry slowly put the ring on his right index finger. It resized to fit him, and a wave of blue magic surrounded it. It was pure healing magic. The wave slowly crept through his body, healing several of the Dursley-caused scars.

As it went upwards, Harry felt a light itch in his scar. He wrote it off as a reaction to the magic, and didn’t do anything.

Suddenly, he clutched his forehead and screamed in agony before falling out of his chair, unconscious.

.

.

.

Hallo my readers! How ya guys doin’ ?

Finally finished with this chapter. Whoo does my wrist hurt.

Anyway, don’t ever think I’ll ditch this story.

I already finished writing chapter 5 in my notebook, and it is waiting to be typed out.

You guys can give me prompts, and I will try to write them sometime in the future.

Next year, you can expect a bit less uploads.

Why?

Cuz I’ll be in grade 12 then, and I’ll have to prepare for my JEE exam.

And must I say, 11^th grade is pure hell

This, and making paper models, are the only reasons I’m sane right now

But am I sane? (Vsauce noises in the background)

So, Perseus, over and out!

P.S. Thanks to my good ol’ friend Cap’n Jacket. You are an excellent friend.

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 5

Horcrux In A Scar? Not Recommended.

Harry blearily opened his eyes. The room was quite dim, and his eyes were still watery and blurry. Using his sleeve to wipe his eyes, he sat up. He tried to pat around him to look for his glasses, but he couldn’t feel them anywhere. He started panicking. Without his glasses, he felt lost, vulnerable.

His hand finally smacked a bedside table. Turning to look that way, he made out a blurry object that looked vaguely like his glasses. He reached out, grabbed them, relieved that they were in fact his glasses, and put them on.

His vision finally cleared. He looked around his room. It was smallish, hewn from rocks, and fortified with stone pillars on the sides. A lamp with runes that emitted light carved into it stood on the bedside table, and the table itself had a pair of drawers, and he assumed it was made of oak or teak.

To his right, he saw a large shelf, stocked with what he assumed were assorted potions. The bed he was on was made of rock, but it had a mattress of a softness he had never seen or felt before.

Suddenly, he heard a shout from behind him. He clambered up onto his knees, clutching onto a bedpost, and saw four vague figures on the other side of a translucent glass pane that was behind his bed.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?” a goblin, which Harry recognized as Drakontooth, shouted.

“Rimhook. That boy in that room is a bloody celebrity. He is here under the protection of MI6, a muggle group. If anything happens to him, you can be sure that the Magical World will wage war on the goblins and on the muggle world. He is also the owner of one of Gringotts’ largest vaults, and if he dies, all this money gets disputed amongst his closest family, the Tonks, the Blacks, and the Malfoys. The Malfoys would hundred per cent get the money, and through them, Voldemort would. Do you want to be the reason for the…”

“SHUT UP PLEASE, AND LISTEN TO ME! I called for an expert, a Greek expert. He one of the best, maybe even the best, in soul magic!” another voice interrupted the earlier speaker, who Harry assumed to be Jarkill.

“Healer Rimhook, please tell us what you know so far. He must, and will, be treated and cured. No matter what.” James said, ever calm.

Harry slowly swung his feet out of the bed and shakily stood up. His scar throbbed irritatingly, and his ring finger hurt. He looked at it. It was bright red and swollen where he put on the ring, like he had a burn over there.

Looking around again, he spotted the door adjacent to the screen. He pushed it open, and entered another stone room, painted white, with comfortable sofas and a centre table.

“He’s awake.” James said, as soon as he opened the door.

“Mr Potter, we, on behalf of Gringotts Bank, apologise for whatever happened. We are trying to find out what happened. Please forgive us.” Drakontooth said, while all three of the goblins bowed deeply.

“Please Drakontooth, don’t apologise. Just tell me what happened.”

“Yes, yes, of course. The second you put on your ring, it exuded healing magic from itself. It is a common feature in family rings. Most ancient families wanted their heads of house to be perfect, impeccable in all ways possible. The magic in the ring fixed any faults that it could. But then the magic reached your scar, and reacted violently with it. The ring had a partially formed crest, meaning that it accepted you, but not whatever is in your scar.” Drakontooth began.

“When you collapsed, Drakontooth contacted a goblin healer, while I and James lifted you and carried you to the medical bays. Don’t worry, save the healer himself, no one knows who you are, nor why you’re here.” Jarkill picked up from where Drakontooth stopped.

“I, Healer Rimhook, was who Drakontooth called. I used some goblin magic to see what was in your scar. While it initially said nothing was wrong, when I used some soul magic to check your soul’s health, it reported two souls inside, one intact, yet bound, and one broken and shrivelled up. I had no idea what it was, so I called an expert in soul magic. I can guarantee he is trustworthy.”

Harry looked pensive. The two souls part niggled at his mind. Then he had an epiphany.

“Voldemort.” Harry said simply.

“What?” Drakontooth asked, perplexed.

“I have a weird connection with Voldemort. It’s like I could see what he was doing sometimes. It’s random, but the scar, and by extension the soul, could be a connection. Could the scar house a portion of a soul inside it?”

“Moreover, over the last four years, I have interacted several times, unintentionally, with Voldemort, mostly in first year. Whenever I was near him, my scar started burning with a vengeance. Alongside that, the scar kind of pulled on me if I was very near him. That night, the night of the third task, when Voldemort came close to me, it felt like my head was about to be torn away.”

“It’s too improbable! For a soul to split like that and lodge itself would mean it was already so damaged, so fractured that it would not take anything to break it away. That can’t happen, unless he does it intentionally. I doubt he’ll be so dark…”

A bell rang out suddenly, interrupting the discussion.

“He’s here.” Rimhook said. He went to open the door, a fine granite creation, with painted runes, which Harry assumed to be locks or bells.

A white-haired, wrinkled, and gangly old goblin entered. He wore thin Dumbledore-style glasses, and held a stick topped with an emerald. He wore plain white cotton robes, which Harry recalled were called togas.

He entered the room, ignoring Harry, and turned to Rimhook. “So, Healer Rimhook, who will I be seeing today?”

“This is a matter of great importance. It is a secret that must be kept at all costs. Therefore, you must make additional vows. Introductions later, first the oaths.”

The new arrival nodded, and went to a corner with Jarkill to take the oaths.

But Harry was surprised that he couldn’t see him. So, he decided to take a step towards James. He stepped forward, only to see nothing where his leg was supposed to be. Harry started panicking. He looked at his arms and he couldn’t see them. He rushed to James and urgently pulled on his sleeve. James secretly beckoned him closer, bent down to pretend to tie his shoes, and spoke into the general area where Harry was.

“Vanishing charm. Don’t panic. We can’t trust him yet.” He said. Harry nodded, but realising James couldn’t see him either, whispered a yes into his ear.

All of a sudden, a wave of magic burst out from where the new goblin and Jarkill were standing. The new goblin was glowing with a golden light, and he raised his staff, and solemnly declared, “I accept the stipulations and restrictions laid down upon me.”

Jarkill and Drakontooth relaxed, while Rimhook looked smug, and he was allowed to be, since his confidence in his contact was justified.

“Well met, good sirs. I am Master Fronksh, from Greece. I took studies in Soul Magic, trained under Grandmaster Wertiga, and interned with the curse-breakers of Egypt and Sudan. I have delved deep into the lightest and darkest reaches of soul magic, and I am quite experienced in reversing the magic in most cases. Now can I meet my patient?”

Jarkill flicked his spindly fingers, and Harry’s camouflage faded away.

“WHAT? Harry Potter? He is my patient?”

“Yes, Master Fronksh. Your patient is Mr. Potter over here, under the protection of MI6 and the monarchs of Gringotts and England. So mind your tongue when you enter a bar.”

“I’ll have you know that I don’t drink. And even if I did, I think I am not so stupid that I’d go blabbering everything around the world. But I am curious, why didn’t the Headmaster of Hogwarts accompany him?”

“For now, and much longer, you don’t have to know.” Fronksh sighed at James’ response.

“So, now tell me, what is the problem as you know it? And tell me what you feel right now Mr. Potter.”

“When Mr. Potter came to take his Lordship and claim his vaults, he tried to accept the Headship ring. The ring did accept him, and it released a wave of healing magic. But the second it reached his scar, the wave was violently repulsed, and so was the ring. It was thrown off in an explosion of magic, and Harry clutched his scar in pain, and collapsed unconscious.” Jarkill said, while Drakontooth nodded along.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yeah. I saw the wave of magic from the ring, it was a beautiful blue colour. It seeped through my body, and a few of my lighter scars faded…”

“Scars? From what?” James demanded.

“Umm… the Dursleys.”

“Harry, that period of your life is over. We’ll deal with them.”

“Please James, if that period is over, just let them be. I don’t want to make a fuss out of it.”

“What do you mean Mr Potter? A fuss? This is a crime, a crime in the Magical World, in the Muggle World and also in the Goblin World. They can’t be allowed to walk scot-free.” Jarkill said, his face contorted in anger.

“Just… just don’t make it too harsh. Like, you can prank them, take away some of their money, but don’t arrest them, or hurt them. I… I don’t want to be like them.” His voice faded away at the end.

James’ face softened. “Harry, you’ll never be like them. You have something that they don’t, a heart. You have morals. You have a family. A true and kind family. Alright, we won’t hurt them bad, but they need to receive a message. No one messes with a child, and gets away with it. Now cheer up laddie, I have plans for the Dursleys, and I am sure you’ll heartily approve of them. Go on, tell Master Fronksh the rest.” Harry smiled a bit, but it didn’t stay.

“O… OK. The larger scars I had,” Harry saw James grimace, “faded away too, albeit a bit slower. Then it reached my head. The scar only itched a bit, nothing too much. But when it came closer, it started burning, and when it reached, it was nothing but pain. It felt like I was being stabbed in the skull, and there was a piercing scream in the back of my mind.”

“This is worrying. Mr Potter, would you kindly go into the chamber, and lay down on the bed? I need to do some scans.”

Harry, now even more worried, did as Master Fronksh asked.

“Rimhook, I’ll need your help here. Hold your crystal above Mr Potter, and move along with me.”

Rimhook nodded and took out a jade stone, holding it out in his hand. Fronksh held out his staff, and started chanting a long stream of goblin incantations. A brown light glowed at the tip of his staff, and a thin stream of the same shot out of it into Harry’s body.

From the jade, a light green light glowed around Rimhook’s fingers, and a weird, uneven shape started coagulating above it. The brown light from Fronksh’s staff reflected from Harry into the coagulation.

Suddenly, the coagulation started showing Harry’s diagnostics. Rimhook shook his stone twice, and the readings changed to show something else. Master Fronksh read them with concentration, and slowly moved his staff towards Harry’s head.

It neared Harry’s arm, where the Basilisk had bitten him. The diagnostic bubble became a light red.

“What happened here, Mr Potter?”

“I was… umm… fighting a basilisk. It bit me here.”

“YOU FOUGHT A BASILISK? When? How did you survive? Magic can’t penetrate its hide!”

“Umm… it was second year. Some form of Voldemort trapped in a book used it to attack me. My wand was in his hands too. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, used the Sorting Hat to give me Gryffindor’s Sword.”

“DI IMMORTALES! What kind of a school is Hogwarts?”

“A dangerous one apparently.” Jarkill dryly commented.

Rimhook, Drakontooth and Fronksh all burst out into laughter. It calmed Harry down to some extent.

“Harry, you will have to tell MI6 everything soon. Our operative, while useful, isn’t privy to everything, nor is he entirely capable.” James said, unperturbed by Harry’s declaration.

Realization struck Harry. “Wait, so, your Hogwarts operative is Ar…”

“STOP!” James boomed. Harry shut up, realising he was about to give away important information.

“Let’s move on.” Rimhook said.

Both Fronksh and Rimhook resumed from the Basilisk scar, slowly moving up, until they reached his scar.

The bubble turned a blood-red colour when they did. Everybody’s eyes widened in surprise,

“What is this?”

“I have no idea. I have to check my books. I can’t be sure at all. All I can say is that there is a malevolent bit of dark magic inside that scar. The fact that it is soul magic for sure, and that it leaves a piece of a soul inside the person narrows down the search.”

Harry sat up. “Please sir, please get this out of me.” He begged.

“I’ll try, I’ll try.” Fronksh said weakly. He opened a pouch strapped to his waist, stuck his hand inside it, and pulled out a thin book.

“Master Fronksh, what is that book?” Harry asked.

“This book is as important to curse-breakers as the Bible is to Christians, the Gita to Hindus, the Quran to Muslims and the Torah to the Jews, maybe even more. Why? Because it contains every single bit of knowledge about souls and rituals and magic known to the world. And it is a lifesaver, since it also contains counters to everything, well, nearly everything, in this book. But this book is a rarer version, written in the Nairsho language, which means only a few can read it, since this language is only spoken by a few communities in Greece, mainly Andros and Crete.”

“How is it so small then?”

“Special runes in it shrink down to fit wherever needed, within certain limits, of course. Now, let me search.”

Harry shut his mouth. James patted his back, and Jarkill and Drakontooth stood aside impassively, taking swigs from a pair of tankards he hadn’t seen on their person before.

Suddenly, Fronksh started muttering and then shouting.

“NO! This is not good! Se ólous tous theoús tou Olýmpou! CURSE THAT BASTARD!”

“What happened?” Harry was bordering on insane at the moment.

“That thing in your scar. That foul, abominable thing, is called a Horcrux. It is a piece of a soul, intentionally cut off from the original, and stored in a place, so that if the person dies, this bit of soul artificially anchors him to the mortal plane. All in all, he essentially becomes immortal. Unless the Horcrux itself is destroyed, and that is a hard task, the person can’t die. But this life is evil, cursed, since you sacrifice morality, humanity, and your conscience to split the soul. Why? Since it requires murder in cold blood. Indiscriminate killing.” Fronksh said, looking venomously at the book.

“NO! This means that Voldemort’s soul is in me then!”

“Voldemort? That’s who put that soul in you? That evil bastard!” Fronksh swore.

“Is there anything we can do about it?” James interjected, placing a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder. Master Fronksh visibly calmed at James’ question.

“Yes. Thank the gods there is. An ancient ritual is described here, but it needs several modifications to fit the current times, and lots of ingredients. I’ll need a lot of time, and resources, to fix it and get the required materials.”

Harry cut in. “You can have whatever you need. Just get this taint out of me.”

Then James started speaking in an official tone. “Master Fronksh, on behalf of MI6, I am giving you a time turner, which you must use to collect necessary items and make required modifications to the ritual.” James gave Fronksh a time turner which Harry didn’t know he had with himself. “It is 9:37 PM now. Mind the time.” James continued.

Master Fronksh nodded, took the time turner, and spun it around several times.

“Goodbye, and rest assured, I’ll be back, with whatever is needed. GIA TO FOS!”

And he vanished in a swirl of colour.

Moments later, the bell on the door rang out into the silence.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣁⣤⣴⣶⣤⣀⢀⣴⣶⣶⣦⣸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⣏⡏⠀⠙⠛⠋⣡⣴⣦⣼⡍⠉⠁⠀⢸⢺⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠻⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣈⡉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣸⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣷⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠤⠤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣶⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢄⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠉⡚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣧⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⠿⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀

⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀

⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇

⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇

⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃

⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀

⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⡻⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠨⠿⣿⠛⢻⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⢸⠿⡋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Here’s a nice lil’ Gangnam style pic for my dear readers!

My soul… I mean my mind can finally feast… I mean enjoy my readers… entrails.

AND PERSEUS IS FINALLY DONE WITH ANOTHER MF-ING CHAPTER.

I have started writing chapter 6, and I will upload it after a week.

SO HANG TIGHT!

Allons-y!!!

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 6

Please Ignore The Screams Of Agony

Jarkill scrambled to the door and pulled it open. On the other side stood Master Fronksh, this time immaculately dressed in a healer’s robe and equipment.

“Master Fronksh, you don’t look like you spent days looking for the ingredients,” Drakontooth commented.

“Well, I did, but I also accidentally, and I mean accidentally, set it a week earlier. I collected the ingredients and changed the ritual as required a week ago, and I just returned from a… research trip… to the Andaman & Nicobar Islands.” Master Fronksh said, with whatever passed for a grin in the Goblin world.

Jarkill barked out a laugh, and Drakontooth joined in with a chuckle. James just stood there unperturbed, with a smirk pulling at his lips. Harry stood aside, speechless, and rather amused. Rimhook busied himself by setting up the room for the ritual.

“Rimhook!” Master Fronksh said, “Stop, this room won’t be required. We need a bigger and more magically saturated chamber. And for that, we need to meet Director Ragnok. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you…”

“No worries Master Fronksh, Director Ragnok is already affiliated with us, and he knows of our presence here.” James interrupted, “But please act carefully later on. You never know who’s on the other side.”

“So, will he allow us to use it?”

“Director Ragnok has given us a Tilet Sapat pass, which I think means a Level 7 pass, which should allow us to use any chamber as required. So please, advise us about which room we should use.”

“I believe Ritual Room 4 will be suitable for us.”

“Of course, follow me then people!” Rimhook said, walking out of the door.

After a long, winding trip through endless identical corridors, going steadily lower, the team reached a nondescript slate door. Rimhook pressed a rune on the door, and it slid open with nary a sound, revealing, to nobody’s surprise, a room.

But something did surprise the non-goblins. This room was, unlike others, completely devoid of any paintings or carvings or frescoes or runes.

“Jarkill, Drakontooth, use these stencils and inks to draw these runes in a square. Don’t worry about the order. Give the sides 5-metres length. Rimhook, help me prepare the potion. Stir it!” He said, tossing a stone onto the floor, which turned into a cauldron simmering over a flame, a ladle stuck inside it. “Mr Potter, we’ll again need some blood. This time a knife is unnecessary. Only a pinprick will do. RIMHOOK!” He kept commanding everyone, from the first second after he entered the room.

Rimhook came to Harry, and in seconds, he pricked a pin into his finger, and dripped a drop into the cauldron. He worked his magic on the wound, and it healed quickly. Taking the ladle, he began stirring the potion, which changed from light purple to a light green tone.

“Mr Potter, this cauldron contains a special goblin brew. It was originally designed to restrain and calm goblins who had been grievously hurt. It essentially calms the body to an extent that can’t be easily reversed. It appears nearly like death. Per the ritual, the runes will draw out the soul piece, the potion will make you virtually indetectable to it, and a chant will draw it and trap it inside this crystal,” Fronksh took out a large reddish-white chunk of quartz, “and if we destroy the crystal, we destroy the soul. Done, that’s it. You’ll be free. Then, I will use this other brew to wake you up in a few moments.”

“So, should I go into the square?”

“Yes, go! And lie down on the floor.”

Harry followed what Fronksh said, and waited.

“Don’t lie down yet! Drink the potion first.” Fronksh scolded, while scooping out a ladle of the potion.

“It’s hot, be careful. Just a sip or two.” He held the ladle at Harry’s level. Harry took a small sip, and started to feel drowsy. He took another sip, and collapsed on the ground, fast asleep. His colour paled dramatically, and he looked dead.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be alright.” Fronksh said, carefully stepping out of the square, careful not to damage the runes.

“Mr Verlan, Jarkill, Drakontooth, you three stand far away. Do not, I repeat, do not interfere, no matter what you see or hear. I am here for his benefit, and I don’t have any ulterior motives to cause him harm. It may hurt him a little bit, a lot in fact, but I won’t do any permanent harm. So I swear on my life.”

“Isn’t he under the potion? How will it hurt him?”

Master Fronksh sighed. It was going to be a tiring day. The potion, while effective, most probably won’t work when the Horcrux leaves him. It’s like, he’ll wake for a few seconds while the Horcrux rips its way out of him, and the second it gets out, he’ll collapse again. But he will wake up for the painful part. And don’t think I don’t want to give him painkillers. I do, but they could, and maybe would, kill him. This potion doesn’t go well with others. But he can take anything after the reversal potion is given.”

The trio nodded and went to the furthest wall. “We’ll stay here.”

“Okay, Rimhook, hold the stone.” Rimhook obeyed, and Fronksh assumed a kneeling position, one hand touching the ground.

“Mau dhoitri, ahmedar arvisheud keri.” He paid obeisance to the earth.

“Orgin Mau, ain becchi ku amokit doah! Aimey shikti deoh, ohne shikti doah! Ohi nangroh, nushtir shadru kyeh ohu tike aberi korah! Nei jayi mau, nei jayi! Ohi Duva! Ahmedar sihoy korah! Beruh, diityu beruh! BERAHE POLAH!” he chanted, his voice increasing in volume and intensity.

At this point, Fronksh raised his staff and slammed it on the ground. He started glowing with a golden aura of magic. Thin tendrils of light came out of the aura, and fed into the runes, which in turn started glowing.

Suddenly, from the four corners of the rune square, four thick, bright jets of light arced out, and shot into Harry’s forehead.

“AIMA TOMONI GO THOK TONIT! EHI JOGEH THOKE JOAH! TONA, JADII, TONA, BORAH KIRU! JOGUHT, JOGUHT! JOGUHT AUT CHERET!”

Then, Harry’s eyes flew open, and he screamed and writhed in agony. Invisible restraints pulled at his feet, binding them to the ground and incapacitating him.

“AAAAAGH!” He screamed.

James made to run towards him, but Jarkill and Drakontooth held him back. Another loud howl cut through the room, and a thick greenish-black liquid started seeping out of the edges of his scar.

“AEMOI TEMIYO BILCHO, CHERIN! CHERIN AIET CHOLUT KU, JOAH EKINTET!”

The black mass coagulated slowly, and suddenly it burst out of Harry’s scar, and became a large black floating cloud.

“AAAARH!” Harry yelled, before becoming limp and falling back unconscious. James twitched again, but the goblins held him back.

“OKIHNE KOA NOHE! Ashet, ashet, eikhantul jogayt ocha!” The cloud bulged out in places as if it were looking for something. It tried to escape the square, but the runes held it back. Rimhook thrust the stone into the square, taking care to stay out of it himself.

A thin tendril poked out from the cloud, trying to test out the quartz. Seeing that it was a suitable host, it thrust itself into it. The stone violently shook and quaked, but Rimhook kept a firm grip on it.

Finally, the last remnants of the soul piece entered the stone, and Rimhook placed it carefully onto the floor, inside the square.

“Aime tamoyi iet pethirat aikte rikhat. IET JAGUTIH KIEH CHURET JOAH!” Fronksh finished, with his voice becoming a booming roar. The aura of magic around him burst out, and concentrated on the stone. Tendrils slammed into it, and Fronksh rose a few feet over the ground, as the aura faded away from him.

With a shrill scream, the stone was encased in a sphere of solid, tangible, pure magic. Fronksh floated for a moment longer, and then keeled over, exhausted from the ritual.

“Rim… Rimhook… heal… the boy.” He croaked out, before fainting. Jarkill and Drakontooth finally left James, who ran over to Harry’s side.

“Rimhook? What happened?” he asked, while Jarkill and Drakontooth tended to Fronksh.

“I’m checking now.” Rimhook cast the diagnostics again, and then grinned fearsomely.

“It’s out. The bastard’s soul is out. Harry is now free of Voldemort’s taint. I’ll give him the reversal potion.” He said, before walking away to get the vial from Fronksh’s bag.

“Did I hear right? The soul is out?” Jarkill asked. James grinned widely, and patted Harry’s arm.

“WAHOO! Finally!” Drakontooth and Jarkill celebrated. The noise they created woke up Fronksh, who was still groggy.

“We’ll see what we can do about the stone once he wakes up.”

“Yes, of course. Can you heal the scar?”

“Once Rimhook returns with the potion, we’ll do it.”

Harry’s scar was lightly bleeding, the blackness of the scar completely gone, leaving behind a raw, open wound. Rimhook jogged back with the small vial of velvet-coloured potion.

“Rimhook... heal the wound first.” Fronksh said, still weak. He took out a flask from his bag, and took a swig from it. “Ah, that’s better.”

Rimhook replied, “Yes, of course.” He waved his hand over the scar and it healed, with the scar nearly gone. Then he held open Harry’s jaw and poured in the potion. The colour slowly returned to his face, and woke up with a gasp.

“Wa… water… I’m… gulp… thirsty” Fronksh handed his flask to Harry, and he drank it in greedily. “Much better.”

“Is… is it gone?”

“Yes Harry, it’s gone. You’re free. Now how are you feeling.”

“Well, the normal feelings when you wake up from a less than restful sleep, and the scar still aches a bit, but this time it’s because of the removal. Plus I really need to use the toilet.” He grinned.

Jarkill chuckled, “Out of the room, go down 3 doors to the right. You’ll find it.”

Harry shakily stood up, and jogged out of the room. Five minutes later, he returned, refreshed.

“James, I need to say something. While I was asleep, I had a very strange encounter.” Harry said, now with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“A few moments after I fell asleep…”

FLASHBACK

Right after taking the second sip of the potion, Harry felt his body slow down, and darkness swam in his eyes, and he fell into a blissful slumber. He faintly remembered falling onto the ground, where he remained for a few seconds.

Until he was jolted awake. In a huge white room, full of mist, someplace that he knew, but he couldn’t place it.

“What the hell is this?” he heard steps coming from the mist.

BAM!

A body struck into him and wrapped its arms around his waist, holding him tighter to itself.

“WHAT THE F#$K!” Harry shouted, afraid.

“Language, Harry.” A soft, melodious voice said.

A voice he had heard before. Several times during his Third Year, and once at the end of his Fourth Year. It was…

“Mmm… Mum?” Harry turned around. A lean red-haired woman with green eyes stood before him, looking at him fondly.

“Hello son.” She said, smiling. Harry was weeping unashamedly now, and he ran to her, hugging her as his life depended upon it. He sobbed into her shoulder while Lily held him close. He kept repeating, “I missed you…”

“I missed you too son. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault Mum. It was Voldemort’s. But am I dead?” he responded, wiping his tears, and disengaging from the hug, though he kept holding her sweater.

“Not quite. You see, Fronksh’s potion worked well, a little too well in fact. You weren’t dying, yet it looked like you were, so Death, capital D Death, was also fooled. It is customary for new deaths to come to this place, where a familiar one greets them, and I was your familiar one. I’ve seen you all your childhood, and so I was chosen…”

“Wait, you could see me?”

“Well of course!”

“Even when… uh… even when I was… uh…”

“Yes… then too. Though both me and James looked away. Yeah, I am a bit peeved about that feature.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

“I’m in the same boat. But now enough idle chitchat. I need you to go back. It’s too early for you, and several thousand lives depend upon yours.”

“But dad? And didn’t the ritual begin?”

“He’s here too, but only one person is allowed to meet the dead. Also, time has nearly no meaning here. It dilated. So, anyway, there are some things you must know. Get our wills from Gringotts, and take their financial management classes. The wills will clear up a lot of questions, and they will help you out in several legalities. The classes will prepare you to become the new Lord Potter. AND DO NOT TRUST DUMBLEDORE. Mr Verlan was right. He is a really bad chess player. He’s only marginally fit to be Headmaster of Hogwarts, and that too only due to his accomplishments. McGonagall is better for the role. Depose Dumbledore when it is most convenient.”

“I don’t want to leave you again Mum.”

She patted his cheek, her eyes tearing up, “Even I don’t want to, but we need to part, for now at least. You won’t leave us Harry, and nor will we leave you. Harry, you need to go to the Ministry. The Unspeakables, keepers of the Department Of Mysteries, have something that concerns you. There was a prophecy made about you. I can’t say it here, since it’ll mess with Fate. And one last thing. Voldemort made more Horcruxes. I can only confirm three of them, and I have a sneaking suspicion about a fourth one. There were six other Horcruxes.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Well, one perk of being dead is an infinitely large library, so, I may or may not have accidentally spent three consecutive days over there, while your father worried himself to death looking for me.” She laughed. Harry chuckled along.

“The items that I know of are Ravenclaw’s Diadem, Hufflepuff’s Cup, Slytherin’s Locket, and I have an idea about the fourth. It could be Voldemort’s snake, Nagini. But I am not sure at all. Beware of the Ministry. What you are doing is essentially treason, however virtuous the reason may be.” Suddenly the walls started darkening.

“Time’s nearly up darling, go now, go.” Harry hugged her one last time, and ran for the door. He then realised where he was. In his room in Godric’s Hollow. He looked behind, and saw Lily smile.

“I’m still sorry for not being there Harry. I promise hell for whoever you send up here.”

“Don’t be sorry Mum, and I might take you up on your offer!”

“Bye Harry.”

“Bye, Mum.”

“Oh, and Harry?” he turned, “next time you meet Hermione, tell her how you feel.”

Harry blushed and stammered.

“Oh Harry, just go now. Don’t be back soon please, for me?” He nodded, and ran out of the door, trying not to cry. The last thing he heard was Lily yell, “Mommy loves you!”

Harry woke up with a sharp pulling sensation on his scar. It hurt like hell, and he screamed in pain. The pain only increased, and Harry’s eyes swam with spots. Somehow, he was again transported somewhere else, into a huge, dark cavern, with small rays of light poking in through crevices. He was floating in the air, and suddenly, a jet of white light cut by him and slammed into a dark body that he hadn’t seen earlier. Harry then realised what it was. It was the Horcrux. It was a mental form of the soul piece. Harry fumbled for his wand, and found it in his back pocket.

“INCENDIO!” a jet of fire shot out, but nothing happened to the soul. “BOMBARDA MAXIMA! CONFRINGO!” the soul was lit up by explosions, but it was still undamaged. He tried to think of other spells, and an idea struck him.

It was dark magic, right? So, pure light magic could, and would, help destroy it.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” a huge silvery-white stag billowed from his wand. It charged the black body, antlers lowered. It slammed into it, again and again. It started loosening, and when the magic from the ritual decided to help out, it tore apart, and Harry was thrown out of the mindscape. He realised he was screaming in pain while the soul was being dislodged, but he didn’t care anymore. He fell asleep, for real this time.

A/N

Aaaaand I am done with chapter 6 of my primus fabula!

Alongside that, I am tired.

Like insanely tired.

It’s nearly one in the morning RN, so yeah, I’m sleepy.

But Physical Chem is a nightmare, since that MF is keeping me awake.

I will upload on 5^th November instead of a week later, so hang tight.

Or actually, don’t.

My life is unpredictable, and while I know what I want to write, IDK if I’ll have the time.

So, yeah, I can’t really confirm it or anything.

Sorry for being late tho. I had two exams, so I needed to revise.

Do Not Ask How I Did In Those Exams

So, I guess I’ll say goodbye now!

Don’t forget to fav and review! I need the publicity.

Plus, I can’t feast on your entrails unless you give yourselves up to me by faving, following or reviewing

So, I need the food.

I guess that’s enough motivation for you

GOODBYE!

CHEERIO GUYS!

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 7

Suddenly, I Have Become Howard Hughes

Harry was silently crying, curled up on the floor. All the others were sombre and quiet.

All of a sudden, his head rose, and he said,  “Voldemort killed my parents. He killed my grandparents. He killed so many others. HE was the main reason for so many people’s loss. I can’t, I won’t just sit and cry. Come on James. Let’s finish this bastard for good.” He got up, and walked out of the door, and the others followed.

“Erm, Rimhook? I think you should lead us around Gringotts.” He added, sheepish. This broke the tension, and the mood was getting better again.

Rimhook took the lead, and once again, after a long walk through the innards of the bank, they were safely enclosed in Jarkill’s office.

“How are you feeling Harry?”

“Excellent actually! My head is much clearer, and my magic feels… better kind of.”

“Really? Do something.”

Harry whipped out his wand and cast a Wingardium Leviosa on the folders again. It worked just as well as before.

“My wand feels… alien to me.” He said.

“Can I cast a charm on it?” Drakontooth asked.

“Sure.”

Drakontooth did as he said, and the wand glowed a dim red.

“It seems the wand is no longer loyal to you. It thinks of you as a stranger.” He said

Jarkill peered closely at it, and said, “Somehow, the Horcrux removal changed your suitability for this wand.”

Drakontooth looked surprised for an instant. “Since you can display similar effects while using this wand, in its unpaired form, it means that your magical prowess has increased. The Horcrux was probably suppressing, or rerouting your magic to suit itself. This is remarkable!”

“Harry, you’ll still have to use that wand in Hogwarts, lest anyone finds out about us. MI6 will still buy you a new wand though. You will have to keep it hidden. And somehow, we must simulate the Horcrux scar. People will get suspicious, especially the Order.” James said.

“If I may, Goblin magic cannot be undone by wizard magic. If I put a glamour on it, it won’t come off, unless I remove it. Do I have your permission to put on the glamour?” Fronksh said.

“Sure!” Harry replied.

Fronksh touched his forehead and chanted something. Suddenly, a false scar formed exactly where the original used to be. He conjured a mirror and handed it to Harry, who inspected himself in it.

“That looks identical!”

“Our magic is mostly intent-based, so it works exactly how you can envision it. That gives it a degree of precision that cannot be seen in wand magic.”

“Interesting. Would you perhaps be interested in helping MI6 decode the magic used? It could help us both.”

“I’m sorry Mr Verlan, but we are perfectly capable of innovating ourselves. And this isn’t the ego talking. Plus, non-goblins can’t access our magic. But I do hope that we can collaborate on other… projects.”

“Of course Master Fronksh. Now, since Harry’s Horcrux has been removed, can we continue with the Lordship process?”

“Sure, I have the ring right here.” Drakontooth pulled out a box from a suit pocket and opened it to show the ring safely kept inside.

“Mr Potter? I believe you know the drill.” He lifted the box towards Harry.

Harry picked up the ring and put it on again. The blue light safely traversed his body this time, and the ring’s crest started forming. It flashed for a second, and lo behold, the final design was drawn into the stone.

A large, four-legged, snake-like animal bordered the crest. Inside, there was a shield, emblazoned with the image of a white phoenix. Behind the shield, a wand and a sword were crossed. The entire ring was mostly red and golden, with the white phoenix and the green animal being the exceptions.

“Woah.”

“Woah indeed. This is one spectacular crest. Now, if you want to see the family crest, just rub the ring, and command it mentally to change.”

Harry did as he was instructed, and the original emblem appeared. It was a four-section design, one showing a golden gryphon, the next a potter’s kiln, and a forge. The one below displayed a crossed wand and sword, and the final showed an open book against the backdrop of an intricately drawn library.

“This is beautiful!”

“It truly is. You, Mr Potter, are now officially the new Head of House Potter. And now, you will take these files in this shrunk briefcase and sign them all at home.”

Harry looked so afraid that the entirety of the office laughed out loud.

“Alongside that, you can now access your vaults freely with this key,” Drakontooth handed him a golden key as large as a pen, which Harry pocketed.

“And you have the right to view your parents’ wills. While the Ministry copy may be blocked, the Gringotts copy cannot be.”

“I want to see the wills.”

“Sure, Mr Potter.” Drakontooth pulled out a folder, with the main family crest imprinted on a corner.

“This contains two different types of files. The first set describes the possessions and land owned by the family, and the next describes the main will, and personal messages, if any.”

“I’ll check it out, but first tell me, what are we going to do about the other Horcruxes?”

“I can use the existing soul piece to build a tracker that can locate these Horcruxes. Your mother’s information will be handy. If you encounter a Horcrux, I suggest you look up what the articles look like. It may help you. And Mr Verlan? Could you request Director Ragnok to provide me with a team to find and destroy these abominations?”

“Of course Master Fronksh. I am sure he will accept.”

“Thank you. This ritual is costly though, and even the expedition will be costly. I request funding.”

“The Potter Vaults will be glad to fund this expedition.” Harry quickly said.

“MI6 and the Potter Vaults will SHARE the expenses.” James cut in, glaring at Harry, who looked back defiantly.

“The will now Mr Potter?”

“Yes, sure.” Harry opened the folder and pulled out the first sheaf of papers. He laid them on the desk and picked up the first sheet.

“The way Gringotts makes official documents is quite different from the methods used by the muggles. And frankly, we do it better. Even the stupidest person will be able to understand our documents, since they are extremely simple.”

The first sheet was a list of the houses owned by the Potter family.

“Potter Manor, valued at 2 MILLION GALLEONS!” Harry gasped. Drakontooth chuckled in response.

“Didn’t I say the Potter family is wealthy? This Manor contains practically everything you need to live. Well, it isn’t exactly a manor, but it is large. Three floors and a basement. Fully stocked potion lab, and a huge library, filled with old books, and especially, the Potter Grimoire.”

“Grimoire? What is that?”

“You can call it an omnibus of a kind. It is a family book, passed down from generation to generation. It contains spells unique to the family, special shortcuts to skills, family traits, secret potion recipes, rituals, and whatnot. Moreover, it automatically fills itself with new information with every passing generation. Every pureblood family has one, and any new blood can make one for themselves, though at a hefty price.”

“Woah. So how can I access it?”

“The grimoire is connected to the Head of the House. So, you can just ask for it by concentrating on your ring, and mentally summoning it.”

“What else can this ring do?”

“It can make purchases, call for an elf, and as an emergency feature, it can directly portkey you to any safe spot. Moreover, it can hide itself when needed. All you have to do is ask it to. It can also detect harmful potions, such as poisons, love potions, prank potions and even improper doses of ordinary potions.”

“That’s useful.” Harry said, and then he continued reading.

“Potter Cottage, France, valued at 500,000 galleons, Godric’s Hollow, valued at 410,000 galleons, and NUMBER 4 PRIVET DRIVE? Valued at 200,000 galleons? I own the Dursley house?”

“Apparently you do,” James grinned, “You can legally evict them!”

“Oh, I will. I know I said I didn’t want to hurt them much, but I think this is enough punishment for them. They mistreated me in my own home. Now, I won’t let them have one. I’ll do it later though, James. I think MI6 won’t want me to get outed so soon, right?”

James smirked proudly. “Of course Harry. But I’ll still arrange for the documents from Barclays.”

Harry picked up the next sheet. It was full of old relics and magical items, with individual costs written beside them. Harry’s eyes were close to falling out as he gaped at his wealth.

“James, Drakontooth? I would really like to donate some money to the people. Could we, perhaps, after all this is over, start a foundation? One to help orphans, and another to help new muggle-borns? I don’t know about the name or the work involved yet, but could I do one?”

James patted his shoulder, and Drakontooth grinned in his scary manner. “Yes, you can start one. But only after this ordeal is over.”

Harry smiled back and picked up the next sheet.

“What does this show?”

“All the products your ancestors have created and patented, plus companies and products owned by you, and institutions where you have shares.”

Harry recollected all that he had heard from Vernon’s rants, and nodded in understanding. He quickly scanned through the page, and was surprised that he owned Sleakeazy, and that his grandfather created their revolutionary hair products. And that surprise turned into happiness when he saw that he had large shares in Britain’s oldest broom company, Mayflyer. He was amused to see that he had shares in Flourish and Blotts, and that the Potters had given Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour its first investment.

He grabbed the next file, and saw all the plots of undeveloped land owned by him. Two sheep grazing grounds in  Moffatt, a potato farm in Ireland, a tea garden in India, a vineyard in France, and an abandoned ranch in America. Harry grinned. He could now go on some nice vacations.

Preferably with Hermione.

He shook away those thoughts. He had no idea how she felt about him yet. Life had taught him one thing. The higher your hopes, the harder they crash and burn. He picked up the next file.

It nearly made him faint.

“This file shows your current wealth in the vaults.” Drakontooth said.

He was rich. Insanely rich, And due to whatever he owned, his wealth was growing fast.

“Some water please…” Harry gasped out. Drakontooth snapped his fingers, and a tumbler of water appeared. Harry drank it all down. Jarkill chuckled.

“The next set of files is the main will. Once again, the system here is much more informal and… conversational.”

Harry picked up the sheet. It had two images, one of his dad, and the other of his mum. There was a rune drawn under the images. The next two sheets were full of writing, and were titled  - ‘Transcript’.

“Press the rune, Mr Potter.” Jarkill prompted. Harry did as he was told, and he pressed the soft parchment.

When a voice started speaking from it, Harry almost dropped it in surprise. A goblin voice spoke first -

“This is the final will and testament of James Charlus and Lily Evans Potter, dated October Seventh, 1981, Anno Domini.”

Then two other voices started speaking – “I, James Charlus Potter, of sound mind and body, no laughing Padfoot; And I, Lily Evans Potter, of sound mind and body, hereby declare the will as such…”

“To Sirius Orion Black, my brother in all but blood, I hope you are here, fully intact. I give you the ranch in America, under shared custody with Harry James Potter. You can now live the life of a Western Gunslinger, like you always wanted. Plus, I give you 30,000 galleons to splurge on yourself. AND FIND YOURSELF A WIFE YOU BLITHERING DOG! Take care of Harry. Be the uncle you always wanted to be.” James said.

“To Remus John Lupin. Moony, get a life. Get a family. There are several who will want you and will accept you. Get over it. Lycanthropy may be a problem, but there are several who have no problem with it. Hell, if I were here, I would play matchmaker. Stick with Paddy. He has connections. He can get you a job. And now for the non-refundable gift. I give you 500,000 galleons.” Lily said.

“To the Longbottom fam…” Harry suddenly pressed the rune again, and it paused. It was the first time he had properly heard his father. He started sobbing again. James didn’t hesitate this time, and he wrapped his arm around his shoulder. For a minute or two, Harry kept crying, until his tears were exhausted. After he was done, he wordlessly resumed the will.

“…ily, I give you our first wardstone. Remember that day we started our company? Yeah, that same wardstone. I really hope Harry and Neville grow up together. They are godbrothers! Alice, please take care of Harry. I wish you all well in life.”

Harry was thunderstruck. Neville was his godbrother? He could’ve grown up with him! Neville used to be a timid boy, but he was toughening up in his Fourth Year. He could’ve had a loving family so long ago!

“To Peter Pettigrew, I give nothing but scorn. If we are somehow dead without amending this part of the will, it means that you have betrayed us. Have you no shame? If Voldieshorts dies, and Britain is in the hands of the Light Side, I want this public. Peter Pettigrew was the secret keeper. He betrayed us to Voldemort.

And if we died while the Fidelius was active, I’m sorry Peter, this was just a last-case measure. If you haven’t betrayed us, we give you 500,000 galleons too. Be Harry’s uncle too. He will need his family around him.” Lily said.

Harry was pissed off. They had their suspicions about Peter, and yet they were giving him a considerable amount of money.

James then returned. “Severus Snape, from you, I seek forgiveness. I know that I have been absolutely cruel to you earlier, and I am sorry for that. I don’t know if it might help, but I give you 30,000 galleons to buy any potion ingredients you need. I am very remorseful. I was jealous of your relationship with Lily, and while I know you once liked her, could we become friends? Spiritually maybe?”

Then Lily spoke up, “Severus, I forgive you. I am still a bit peeved at you, but you have mostly atoned. Now, it’s your turn to forgive James. You both were idiots when you were young, but you have matured. Maybe. Don’t treat Harry as the son of your bully. Treat him as the son of an old friend, and a new one.”

Harry was constantly surprised. Snape and his mother were friends? And James bullied Snape? He could almost understand the animosity now. What happened between them? He could’ve had a better life in Hogwarts!

A goblin then cut in, “Custody of Harry James Potter, Heir to the Potter Lordship.”

“Harry James Potter will be the next Lord Potter the day he becomes eleven years of age. I trust Gringotts to arrange for that. Per the decree of the current Lord Potter, that’s me, Harry James Potter will receive everything else that is left in the vaults when he takes his Lordship.”

“The List of Custody is as follows.” The goblin intoned.

“Frank and Alice Longbottom, Amelia Bones, Pandora and Xenophilius Lovegood, Sirius Orion Black, and as a last resort case, the Dursley family. If perchance he ends up with the Dursleys, ensure his wellbeing and conduct monthly checkups. Harry must be allowed to be in contact with the Magical World, and he must be happy with his placement. These conditions are non-negotiable.”

“Personal messages for Harry James Potter.”

“Harry, there is a box in a vault, it’s oak and iron. Open it, and read the letter inside. It will explain more details. The password is… uhh… Tupperware. I’m sorry, but I had no other ideas when we set the password. It’s a rare password though, so it kind of is a good thing.” Lily said, laughing. Then James started speaking.

“Harry, if we… erm… die, know that we both love you with all our hearts. I really hope we’ll get to change the will soon, with you by my side. It would normally be my job to teach you how to handle the reins of the Lordship, but if I can’t, you can trust Sirius, Frank, or even Minerva, to guide you along. Jeez, I’m rambling on. The main thing I wanted to say was, that when you are in Hogwarts, you’ll need help. And it’s also good to have a readymade friend group. I suggest you restart the Alliance of Prosperity. I have a letter in the same box, and it details everything else you need to know. And Harry? Live happily. And get a gal! Do not be a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw! I guess Huff... OUCH LILY, that hurts!”

His mom then spoke.

“Harry, be whoever, whatever you like. Just don’t be Juvenile James. But I guess I can allow you some pranks. Let the Marauders live on. Love you, son! Flower, over and out! Oh, I always wanted to say that.”

For the first time that day, instead of falling into tears, Harry sat up straighter and smiled. “I’ll make you proud, mum, and dad. I won’t let you down.”

A/N

And I am done! This was one large chapter. But what can I do? If inspiration strikes, it strikes. And maths periods are quite inspiring!

Anyway, if you were offended by any of the responses I gave to the comments, please let me know.

Also, let me know if I should continue responding to major comments.

And also let me know if I’ve made any errors in the story.

And so, I am done with Chapter 7.

Its title is tentative, so if you have any suggestions for it, please tell me.

I’ve already started with Chapter 8, and I think I can upload it on schedule.

Perseus, over and out!

Cheerio guys (and gals) (and anybody else)!

See ya next week!

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 8

Time To Spend

“It’s nearly eleven. I think we should get going.” James informed the group.

“But the vaults?” Harry whined.

“Your guard is supposed to be there only from 6 PM to 4 AM. I still have to get you some things before you go home. That means it is best if we leave now. Your guard’s next shift is three days away. We can go again then.”

“How can I pay for those ‘things’?”

“For that, Mr Potter, Gringotts has a solution. You can use the ring, but it will expose you. For 50 galleons, we can sell you a wallet. This wallet can replenish itself when needed, and for magical purposes, it can directly take galleons, sickles and knuts from your vaults, in exact amounts. For other muggle purchases, we can give you a credit card registered at Barclays, but connected to your Gringotts vaults, for an additional 65 galleons.” Jarkill said.

“I’ll take it!” Harry exclaimed. That jolted Fronksh and Rimhook awake.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were asleep…”

“Don’t worry about it. The ritual just took a lot out of me. And it’s past my bedtime anyway. I should get to Rimhook’s house.” Fronksh said.

“Sure. Even I am just as sleepy.” Rimhook added.

Jarkill in the meantime filled out some paperwork and asked Harry to sign it. He wrote a letter and yelped in pain.

“WHAT is that?”

“Erm… sorry about that. It’s a blood quill. It takes some blood from your skin to ensure the contract is ironclad… I should’ve told you beforehand…”

“Yes.” Harry replied indignantly. Jarkill chuckled and motioned for Drakontooth to get something. Drakontooth smirked and pulled out a thin black wallet from a desk drawer.

“This wallet contains anti-theft charms and has a tracker that only you can enable just by pressing a particular rune in it. It can shrink and also change shape to form a bag of gold if needed. And for the stylish people, it can change its texture, pattern or even material!” Drakontooth said, flourishing the wallet.

“This the base version?”

“No, you just bought the premium version, with the best card. After all, only the best for the best!”

“You really are a businessman.”

“That I am. Now, palm please.” Harry held out his hand, and Drakontooth placed the wallet in it. He felt a slight prick, and the wallet briefly glowed a soft silver hue.

“Did it just… did it just take blood from me? AGAIN?”

“Erm… yes. Gringotts is heavily dependent on blood. Not because we have legions of vampires, but because it’s much safer that way.” Jarkill shrugged.

Harry sighed and opened the wallet. He nodded in approval when he saw the galleons on one side, and cash and his card in the other.

“What’s the pin for the card?”

“You can set it to whatever you want. Yet again, all you have to do is…”

“Not blood again, please.”

“No, not blood. In this case, your ring will do. For those lacking a ring, we would make them use blood. Just press your ring on the Gringotts logo, and think of the new pin.”

“Oh, OK.” Harry followed the instructions and set a new pin on the card.

“If we are done here now, can we leave? It’s getting pretty late.” James cut in.

“Yes, of course… See you three days later!” Drakontooth bid them goodbye. The duo bowed in response and left the office.

After walking through the long passages again, they found themselves at the gates. Harry turned to James and asked, “What are we doing now?”

“Four main things. First, get you a new, unregistered wand. And a holster for it. Second, while they make the wand, I’ll get you a new trunk. Then we get you a new wardrobe, because believe me, this is truly shit. Finally, you do whatever you like, while I get you some things from an MI6 storeroom. We are lucky that Diagon Alley barely closes at night.” James said, fixing Harry’s cap.

“So, where first?”

“Knockturn Alley. If you want anything borderline illegal, or even completely illegal, that’s where you go.” He said, starting to walk towards the dimly lit street. Harry gulped and jogged after him.

A couple of minutes later into the walk, James pulled Harry towards a building that looked nothing like a shop.

“What is this place?”

“Hoffstedts’ Staffs And Wands. Every single wand that MI6 currently uses is from this one shop. They are just as good as Ollivander’s, even better in some aspects. Especially since their wands are custom-made. That ensures that everybody’s wand reaches its best potential. Plus, using muggle ideas makes the process much cheaper and faster. Now, they can churn out a new wand in two hours.”

“Isn’t that a bit long?”

“Wand-making is a precise process. Ollivander’s wands generally take a week to make, each. Sometimes more. This is a major improvement.” James explained.

“Well then, great!”

“Let’s go in.”

James walked up and pressed the bell. When no one came, he kept pressing it constantly, smirking.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. A man stood on the other side, clad in a set of blue flowery pyjamas and fluffy white slippers.

“WHO THE F#$K IS MAKING SUCH A RACKET!?” he shouted.

“Hello there Henry. We’re in need of a wand.” James answered, grinning. The other man, Henry, blinked and punched James lightly on his shoulder.

“Get your sorry arses inside.”

“Where’s Kinzie?” James asked.

“She’s fast asleep. Not even a bulldozer can wake her up.”

“Then become a plane. Get her awake. You can’t help us without her.”

Henry grumbled and asked the duo to sit down, before dragging his feet upstairs.

“This duo right here is Henry and Kinzie Hoffstedt. They are as British as one can get, but their parents were German. Jewish, to be precise. They escaped the Holocaust in the nick of time as teens, but the rest of the family perished in the Dachau concentration camp. The Hoffstedt parents then married and built a life here in Britain, and a few years later, the twins were born. And around eleven years after that, both of them received their Hogwarts letters. They were both Hufflepuffs, a year under your parents.”

Suddenly, a woman ran down the stairs.

“EVERYTHING AFTER COFFEE!” she shouted out. When Henry followed, he also shouted, “Same!”

The duo again waited ten minutes, when the woman and Henry returned with four cups of coffee and a packet of biscuits.

Harry took a good look at the woman, Kinzie, he recalled. She was dark-haired, with brown eyes and a large-ish forehead. Henry looked quite similar, but his hair was curly instead of straight.

“So, James, what’s going on now?” she asked, dipping her biscuit in her cup.

“Our new recruit needs a new wand.”

She sighed. “Of course. No wonder Henry went downstairs. But doesn’t he look a bit too young to join this mess?”

“Depends… physically, yes, he is too young. But mentally no. And especially, he has a job ahead of him that needs our constant support.” James said, smiling at Harry.

Kinzie smirked. “Very well. Finish the coffee first and come down with me. By the way, call me Kinzie. None of that ma’am or miss nonsense.”

Harry laughed. He decided that he was going to like this woman.

Soon, they were done with their coffee, and the trio trooped down the stairs. At the bottom, Kinzie opened a door to reveal a large basement room, full of various racks and a large table at the centre, filled with paint and polish. Henry sat on a couch facing the door, drinking his coffee.

“New wand I presume? Doesn’t newbie here look a bit too young? What’s MI6 up to now?” he drawled.

“We have our reasons, Henry. And your presumption was correct.”

“Okay then, Kinzie will handle him. Come on in laddie. I’ll just go up to chat with an old friend.” He said, getting up.

“Frenemy more likely.” James smirked. Kinzie meanwhile looked at Harry significantly and tilted her chin towards one of the racks.

“To make you a wand, I need to know your wand wood type, your core, your focus, and also your measurements. And there is a pattern to be followed. Start with that rack. It contains samples of every single wand wood possible, except some extremely costly ones, but those are all too rare. It’s a tedious process.”

Harry sighed. “How should I do it?”

“That’s simple. Lightly touch each item on the rack. I have specially charmed them to glow brightly if the best match is found. I know Ollivander says that the wand chooses the wizard. Well, I say if a wand doesn’t accept a wizard, make one that does. And since I can’t just keep calling you newbie, I’ll just call you Jack. You look like a Jack.”

Harry cocked his eyebrow at her like – ‘seriously?’ He still did as he was told to though. Closing his eyes, he ran his fingers over the items on the rack. Soft, hard, grainy, rough, smooth. He felt it all.

Suddenly, the next piece of wood that he touched flashed out and stung his hand. He yelped and shook his hand in pain. Kinzie sighed and healed the stinging with her wand. She then went over to the rack, pulled on a pair of woollen gloves, and took out the wood.

“Hmm… baobab tree, root wood… this is rare. I had this specially imported, all the way from Madagascar, y’know, just in case. Anyway, the next rack now.” She said, keeping the wood on the table, and walking over to the next-to-next rack, filled with boxes of various sizes.

“So, Jack,” she grinned at Harry’s grimace, “do the same for these. They contain wand cores, rare, common, and even the occasional non-existent one.”

“Miss Kinzie?” Harry said, now grinning at her grimace, “Why are you working in Knockturn Alley?”

“It’s where my shop is?” she answered. Harry shook his head, “No, no. What I mean is if you can make such good wands, that too so quickly, why don’t more people buy from you?” he continued while resuming his search for his wand core.

“It’s because we are muggleborns. Even worse, foreign muggleborns.” She answered through gritted teeth. Another flash. Kinzie reached out and took the box.

“Hmmm… rather unconventional pairing. Baobab for huge magical power, and thestral feathers for power amplification. You are going to have a lot of power. Like, a LOT. Next up, a wand focus. Some magicals use it to control and properly use their magic. I think you’ll need one too. With your current power levels, you can cause a Hiroshima-level blast with just a simple confringo. Whatcha waiting for?” she prompted Harry, leading him to a much smaller rack.

He repeated the process, and five boxes in, he was met with another flash. Kinzie pulled it out and showed Harry a piece of metal.

“This is tungsten. You are one weird customer. Muggle foci are quite rare to see in magicals. Now, let me find out your wand criteria.”

She took her wand and chanted a spell, which Harry was sure was her creation. The spell’s brown light covered him in a bubble, and it showed his wand requirements like the goblin diagnostic charm.

“Okay… eleven and a half inches, semi-flexible… smooth surface and fully enclosed core. This shouldn’t take too long. Altogether, seventy galleons please!”

“I will pay, but only after I receive my wand. And can I see your machine?”

“Someone’s versed in the arts of trickery. Sure, come along.” She opened a door and walked in. Harry followed her and rapidly blinked when she hit the lights.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he gaped.

The machine was a sleek metal monstrosity. Polished, sparkling white, with gears and pipes and drills and whatnot connected to it.

“Won’t magical interference affect the machine?” he asked.

“The actual electrical components are all under the machine, under a thick slab of chromium-plated lead alloy. Magic cannot go through that. Well, unless you decide to launch a bombarda at it. All that’s up here are the mechanical parts, and magical interference cannot just stop physics. And I named her Betty. Call her Betty.”

“So, how do you use… Betty, you say? Who made it?”

“While the intricacies are trade secrets, I can give you the general idea. And I made her!” she said, evidently excited at the prospect of talking about her invention.

She chattered on for several minutes while preparing the materials and the machine. Harry did end up understanding most of it though.

“So, Betty essentially takes the components, prepares them, and assembles them? But the finishing touches are done by hand.” He summarised.

“That is in fact quite correct!” she said, happy that someone understood her.

“I have a friend, I won’t say who, but she’ll love to see this in action.”

“Thank you!” she preened. It was obvious that she wanted some attention for her creation.

She continued, “Okay, this will take some time, around two hours, so I guess you can go with James to do whatever else you came here for.”

“Thanks!” he said, as he left the room to look for James.

He found him sitting on the couches laughing at something Henry said.

“Hey James, Kinzie says that it’ll take some time, two hours.”

“Okay then… let’s go to do the other jobs. Henry? We’re leaving now, but we’ll be back soon.” James said as he was leaving the house. Henry waved at them and closed the door.

“Where now?”

“You go get yourself a wardrobe. Three doors down, there is an MI6-approved store. Tell the guy inside that Flair sent you. Pay with your wallet. I’ll go get you some things. Oh, and Harry?” he turned, “he can know about your identity. He’d know soon enough anyway.” Harry nodded at that and took off towards the store. James chuckled and went the other way.

Harry jogged towards the store and slowly pushed open the door. Weird, he thought, it shouldn’t be open this late at night.

Suddenly, a spear slammed down from above him, and random spells launched at him. Harry yelled and dived onto the floor.

“OI! BLOODY HELL! WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT!” he shouted, and even more curses flew at him from a stairwell.

“WHAT I’M PLAYING AT? THIS curse WILL curse TEACH curse YOU curse NOT TO BREAK curse IN!” the guy shouted back.

“THE DOOR WAS BLOODY OPEN!” Harry responded, flicking out a quick protego.

“DOESN’T MATTER BOY! YOU STILL GOT IN!” he replied, now tossing a chair at him.

“F#$K YOU! FLAIR SENT ME!” Harry yelled back, ducking to avoid the flying chair.

He then stopped. “Flair sent you? You’re a kid!”

“Yeah, I guessed that myself.”

“No need for the sarcasm. James has a good head on his shoulders, but now I’m worried about his mental health.”

“Says the sarcastic guy himself. Yes, he sent me. I’m Harry Potter. Not so pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. The guy took it and shook it firmly.

“Ah, umm, well, I apologise?” he said with a shrug, “Couldn’t you say so before? And seriously, Harry Potter?”

Harry looked at him as if he had grown another head.

“Riiight… of course I would have the presence of mind to do that while trying to survive. And why does a clothing shop need defences? And yes, I am Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure. And you can never be too careful! Oh hey, I forgot to turn on the lights.” The man flicked his wand, turning on the lights and revealing a brightly painted room, full of clothes. Some elegant, some beautiful, some classy, some stylish and quite a few absolutely, incredibly deplorable. And it also revealed a bearded man in his nightclothes, his sand-coloured hair sticking out randomly.

“I’m Dave!” he introduced himself. When Harry looked at him expectantly, he sighed and continued, “Dave Davies Davison.”

Harry tried to hold back his smile, he really tried. But then it turned into a giggle, and then full-blown laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the guy in control of the prices.” Dave said, before beginning to chuckle himself.

“Jeez, what’s James doing now? Kids in MI6? Seriously, shit’s hitting the fan.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, why MI6 wants me. But I do know that I’m here for my clothes.”

“Oh, of course. Casual, formal or battle?”

“You sell… battle clothes?”

“Yep, duelling robes, lightweight armour, the works. Kevlar covered for resistance against objects, and a thin layer of chromium for basic magical resistance. Not to mention protection ru…”

“Okay, okay. I think I’ll try some on for all.” Harry said, “I don’t have enough of my own clothes anyway. I’d like both magical and muggle outfits. You choose.”

“I… choose?” Dave replied, now evilly smiling.

“Yeeeah?” Harry said, now unsure of what he had gotten himself into.

“Don’t you worry Harry, you’ll be safe in Dave Davies Davison’s hands!” he laughed.

Harry gulped. “Oh shi…”

A/N

I am finally done with chapter 8!

WAHOOOOOOO!

Chapter 9 is in progress, but I’ll be done by the day after tomorrow.

Anyway, I am tired and sleepy, but I have an exam tmrw, and I am shit at Limits and Derivatives.

I really need to revise, so I’ll just get going.

P.S. It’s really an honour, RobSt, that you found my story good enough to follow. Thank you!

Cheerio people!

Perseus, over and out!

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 9

Look At The Galleons Galloping Away

James exited the building with a trunk full of items he had to give to Harry.

But Harry was still nowhere to be seen.

All of a sudden, he remembered something he forgot to tell Harry.

Never. NEVER ask Dave to choose for you.

“Shit.” He swore, and ran to the store he’d shown Harry earlier in the night. He slammed the door open and calmly sidestepped Dave’s ‘non-lethal’ traps.

“DAVE DAVIESON! YOU WILL LEAVE HARRY ALONE NOW!” he shouted, standing dramatically on the porch.

Dave rushed into view, holding two jackets, one gaudily coloured, and the other a rather stylish piece. James shook his head in resignation and set the trunk down.

“Dave, seriously?” James said, exasperatedly swinging his arms.

“You tell me, James, getting a kid into MI6. Anyway, you tell me, which will fit Harry better?” he asked, before abruptly leaving him and running somewhere. James ran after him, praying that he was going towards Harry, wherever he was trapped.

Dave finally stopped at a door and knocked. When he received a positive response, he walked in. James followed him in too.

It was a mess. Clothes strewn all over the floor, a piece of underwear hanging on a rack, and a really, really pissed off Harry in the centre, clad in a set of dragonhide armour.

“Yes… that looks absolutely perfect! You’re buying this too!” Dave said. When Harry spotted James, he fixed him with a pleading look. James just shrugged.

“Get me out of here James, please!”

“Oh hell no James, just this last jacket!”

“You’ve been saying that for the last fifteen minutes!” Harry shouted, but Dave carried on, unperturbed. He enthusiastically threw clothes into a bag with one hand, and with the other, he tossed Harry one of the jackets he chose. James looked at Harry and gestured him to put it on. He glared back, but he threw on the jacket.

“That does look nice on you…” James said when he donned the second jacket.

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT! THEY ALL LOOK GOOD! The problem is, he is OBSESSIVE! And it’s utterly boring!”

Dave looked up. “You’re buying this jacket. Take it off and give it to me. Then wear your earlier rags.”

“Motherf^&ker.” Harry swore, glaring at him.

“And proud about it!” he retorted, grinning unabashedly.

Harry sighed in defeat and tossed him the jacket. He caught it and packed it in the bag. Within moments, while James and Dave both looked away, Harry was dressed and ready. Dave then went to the register and began calculating the price.

“I think the wand should be done by now.” Harry remarked.

“It should be. I need to show you some things, so grab the bags and come to the wand store.” James said.

“Aaand done! That’ll be 1771 galleons and 29 knuts! Would you like to donate a sickle for the orphanage?” Dave said.

Harry sighed. “Sure, make it a 100-galleon donation. James? Does the money go to an orphanage?”

“It does. We made sure that Mr Davison here wasn’t a thief. A lot of the profits go to a magical orphanage in Suffolk.”

Harry smiled at that. He opened his wallet and was surprised to see a chequebook in it. He pulled it out of its magically enlarged pocket.

“Hmmm. I can write cheques?” he said.

“Yeah, I think so. Go on, I’ll guide you through it.”

James guided him through the process, and Harry tore off the cheque and handed it to Dave, who stuck it in the register.

“Stupid wizards. Never realise that cash is the way forward.” Dave grumbled, handing over the bags to Harry. He smirked and grabbed the bags.

“Oh, hey… these bags are conjurations, so it’ll probably last another hour or so. Please be careful.”

“Sure, no problem.” Harry said as he was leaving the shop.

“COME BACK SOON!”

“NEVER!” Harry shouted back, and he could hear Dave laughing as the door closed.

“He’s a real madman.”

“Our Ex-Auror employees call him the “Moody Wearing Gucci”. I don’t get them at all.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s a perfect nickname for him.” Harry laughed.

“Let’s go back for the wand.”

“Yep”

James and Harry returned to the Hoffstedt shop and rang the bell. Henry opened the door and grinned when he saw them.

“Come on in, it’s nearly done! Kinzie’s just applying the polish.”

“Sure. Hey Henry?” Henry turned to look at James, “We’ll need a few minutes of privacy later on. Could you lend us a room for some time?”

“Oh, sure!” he answered before jogging downstairs. Harry and James set down the bags and the trunk on the porch and followed him.

“KINZIE! They’re here!”

“Yeah, yeah, nearly done… aaand that does it!” Kinzie said, lightly touching the wand with a paintbrush. She then dunked the brush into a tin of polish, and turned towards the trio, leaning on the table.

“So, Jack!” James snickered at that, “This here is your wand. Eleven and a half inches, semi-flexible, smooth and with an enclosed core. Baobab wood and thestral feather core, surrounded with a tungsten focus! Try out now!” she said grandly, taking the wand out of its holder with a twirl and pointing it handle-first at Harry. He reached out and…

BANG!

A really bright flash of light blinded everyone in the room. Harry used his hand to rub his eyes and opened them to see the others blinking and rubbing their eyes too. He then looked at his wand.

“Woah.” He marvelled at the craftsmanship. Even though it was mostly by machine, Kinzie did do a lot to finish up the wand.

Kinzie smiled excitedly and said, “Cast something with it, Harry. Here, levitate this paintbrush.”

Harry nodded, and focusing all his power on the wand, he calmly incanted, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Suddenly, the paintbrush shot upwards and impaled itself into the ceiling. Debris fell down around them.

“OH MY GOD!” Harry shouted, as he ducked to avoid the bits of plaster and brick. Kinzie leapt back soundlessly, amazed, and Henry emitted the shrillest scream of fear possible and curled up on the floor. James, as usual, impassively stepped to the side.

“That was… uhh… that was quite powerful.” Harry gulped, looking at the stuck paintbrush.

“It was… OOOOOH! This wand was sooo much better than my last one!” Kinzie exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement and clapping her hands wildly.

“I apologise for my sister. She’s still a bit… immature.” Henry said, acting solemn. He dodged Kinzie’s slap with a laugh and tripped on a piece of debris. Kinzie then doubled over laughing and then looked at Harry.

“You’ll still need to practice control with that guy. Luckily for you, it has no trace, so you can use it anywhere, as long as you keep it out of muggle view.” She said.

“Sooo, can I cast Avada Ke…”

“NO NO NO NO! STOP!” Kinzie shouted, and Harry fell onto his knees laughing. Kinzie sniffed in offence, and Harry laughed even harder.

From his location on the floor, Henry asked, “I guess you’ll need a holster for that?”

“Yeah!”

“Come along then!” Henry got up, stretched his back, and walked to a small work table with drawers on the sides. When he opened the first drawer, Harry was surprised to see several holsters.

“Latest styles, if you want the holster to be seen. If not, invisible holsters! Guaranteed invisibility for 2 years! Then you have the MI6 standard holsters. And for our rare rich patron, who’s also, most of the time, illegally escaping the Aurors, EXTRA SPECIAL HOLSTERS!” he said with a flourish at the end.

“Do those have any extra features?”

“You can release your wand with a flick of your wrist. Also, if you’re disarmed, you can summon it back wandlessly with the holster. As I said, it is also invisible. Moreover, you can pay an extra ten galleons for a free wand maintenance kit! It generally costs 20 galleons y’know?”

“I mean, why not?” Harry shrugged.

“If I remember correctly, it will add up to 40 galleons. So, pay up kiddo!”

Harry blinked at him for a moment, then sighed and pulled out his wallet. “Do you accept cheques?”

“Will do.”

Harry summoned the chequebook and said, “Seventy plus forty galleons. A hundred and ten galleons.” He then ripped out the cheque and handed it to Henry.

Henry shook his head and gestured upstairs. “Hand it to Kinzie. It was her turn at the register today.” He said, before walking up.

“Henry, the holster?” James cut in.

“Oh, yeah, shit… come on, choose your favourite!” he said, jogging back down the stairs and reopening the drawer.

Harry looked at them. Most of them were scaly, made of different skins, of various colours.

“What are these made of?”

“Dragonhide! See, this one here was made out of the belly hide of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. This one here is an Indian Aakashnaag, literally ‘air snake’, an Australian Bacharg, a Peruvian Awxygin. This one’s truly a beauty, an Alaskan Metekelvscond, an Iri…”

“What’s that green one?”

“That one? Good choice. It’s a Finnish Octrimus. One of the largest, if the dragon handlers were correct.”

“Was it killed?”

“Oh hell no! Our products are sustainably acquired, with a keen regard for the safety of the environment. Timothy just died of old age.”

“They named a dragon… Timothy.”

“Tim for short. It was actually me who named him that. Initially, they named him Tiffany. Turns out, he was actually a boy! I was there to collect some other skin, and I chanced upon a few handlers thinking about what to name him. I decided to butt in. They liked my suggestion.”

Harry slapped his hand onto his face. “Oh my god.”

“Well, the locals called him some Finnish variation of “very large scary dragon”, but Tim sounded better.”

“Honestly, it does sound nice.” James remarked. Harry looked at him with a betrayed expression.

“See? He gets me!” Henry exclaimed, pointing at James. Harry sighed and walked up the stairs. James and Henry laughed and followed him.

Upstairs, Kinzie sat on the couch, reading a book. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice the trio return behind her. Henry grabbed a cushion silently, and whispered to the others, “Don’t make any noise.”

He crept up behind his sister and swung the cushion.

“HEY!” she shouted when he hit her head. She squinted her eyes in rage, and threw a cushion at Henry.

“Whoops! Missed me!” he said, laughing, but not for long, since a few seconds later, Kinzie lobbed her book at him. It hit him on his head, and he fell back with a dramatic groan.

“James, Jack, you can go up and then left. The room there is free. Pay me when you’re leaving. You’ll have full privacy upstairs. In the meantime, I need to take care of my brat of a brother. Go on now!” Kinzie said, holding another book in her hands. James and Harry fearfully ascended the stairs, and pain-filled yells accompanied the journey. They found the room, and James closed the door after them and sighed.

“They may quarrel quite a bit, but they’re closer than anyone can ever be.” He smiled.

Harry nodded and said, “What do you want to show me?”

“MI6 has decided to requisition some supplies for you. This trunk contains a few items—gadgets is a more apt term—and all your clothes will obviously fit in it, too. I’ll pack them in later.”

Harry nodded and took the trunk. It was a nice solid leather case with a combination lock and a magical lock beside the handle.

“Its current code is 2311. Open it.” Harry opened it to reveal a huge cavity inside, with a pocket on the other side filled with unknown things. He realised he could fit all his clothes inside, with space left.

“You’ll get some other things after you get some more training. For now, all you’ll have is whatever’s inside that pocket. Open it, take out the things.”

Harry complied and took out a pair of small rectangular mirrors.

“These are paired mirrors. Say your name into one of them, and give me the other.”

He took one and said ‘James’ into it. Harry followed suit, and both their mirrors glowed for a second.

“Now say my name onto yours.”

“James.” The mirror flickered, and simultaneously, so did James’.

“Pick up.” He said. Both mirrors stopped flickering and displayed the other’s face. Harry gaped at them.

“These are like a telephone. But with video communication. You can now communicate with me from anywhere.”

“Woah.”

“Yep, take out the next.” Harry pulled out a small box containing an earplug-shaped and several small coin-shaped objects.

“Those are bugs. No, not actual bugs. These can stick to any surface, and they can record and send all the sounds in the area within 15 metres. The other object is meant to be stuck in your ear like an earplug. It will send you live sound from any of the bugs. You just need to pair it with any one particular bug by tapping both simultaneously.”

Harry then took out a booklet.

“It’s a journal. That’s it. Except, it isn’t it. If you can’t call me, just write what you have to inside this. Give me the other booklet. It’s inside the trunk. Good.”

“The next box contains a few trackers. Attach one to someone, and until he or she takes off his or her clothes, it will constantly track them. It feeds directly into our systems.”

“Hmmm… I have something similar that can track anyone in Hogwarts.”

“Really? Get it the next time. Take out the next items.” Harry took the last items out of the trunk. A pouch, a small stick, and an armband with a few buttons on it.

“That pouch is an emergency ration pack. It contains medical supplies and food. Hopefully, you won’t need it. That armband is an excellent device. The largest is a portkey. It will send you to our nearest safehouse if you press it. It can bust right through most wards. The next one is a tracker. If you enable it, we’ll know where you are constantly. The last one will just turn it invisible. The stick you pulled out contains special runic combinations that will make anyone forget the last ten minutes. It’s just in case you slip up. Now pack up everything. We need to leave soon.” Harry packed it all up and followed James out the door. They descended the stairs to see Kinzie calmly reading her book, while Henry held an ice pack to his shoulder, which was bruising quite badly.

Harry smirked and passed on the cheque to Kinzie, who put it into her register. James packed up the clothes, making small talk with Henry. Harry then took his holster and strapped it onto his wrist. Placing his wand in it, he tried it out.

He flicked his wrist, and the wand came flying out. Harry missed it, and it fell a bit away. Willing his holster to summon it back, he tried again and again, until he finally got it right.

“HURRAH!”

“Come on Harry, we need to go now.”

The duo bade the Hoffstedts goodbye and walked out into Diagon Alley, which still had a few shoppers milling around. They exited the Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, and James hailed a taxi on the street.

The rest of the trip back to Surrey passed in relative silence.

Then James spoke. “Harry, do you know how to cast an obliviate? Or modify someone’s memories?”

When Harry shook his head, James continued, “I’ll call for another wizard to modify the Dursley’s memories. We can’t have anyone but MI6 know about anything.”

Harry nodded.

“Speak to me every night at 11:00 on the mirrors. Practice with your wand, and maybe read your grimoire in your free time. You’ll get enough time to finish your homework, trust me.”

When they reached, James paid the taxi driver, and turned to meet a new wizard standing beside a tree.

“Hello there. I was told I had to change someone’s memories?”

“Yes. The Dursleys. Our new recruit will get them out. Harry? Just petrify them and get them out.”

Harry did so, and after a scream, which stopped in a few seconds, three bodies floated out of the door.

“Memoria Baudelan” the wizard incanted. One by one, he modified all of their memories and left them floating. He bid the duo goodbye and apparated away.

James shook Harry’s hand and slapped his shoulder.

“Goodbye, kiddo. We’ll meet again, soon.”

“Bye James.”

James walked away into the night, while Harry levitated the trio back to their beds, making sure to remove their memories of the last ten minutes.

Harry finally fell onto his bed in exhaustion and contemplated the day. He smiled to himself that finally, finally, things were looking up for him.

A/N

Aaaand done!

Like, finally.

I was absolutely exhausted today.

I mean, I didn’t do much, but life in general is tiring and trying.

And so are exams

Like the next one I have tomorrow.

I’m sorely tempted to try out gravitational equations for myself. Practically.

YEEEEEEEEEEEET!

Yeah, JK.

I haven’t yet crossed the brink.

Wahoo! (not sarcasm)

Anyway, goodbye guys!

Perseus, over and out!

PS – I use random shit around me to name some things here. For example, Fronksh is a car. The Maruti Suzuki Fronx. So is Wertiga – the Maruti Suzuki Ertiga. Then the Peruvian Awxygin is… you can guess it easily (hint – an element). I’m quite happy about the Alaskan Metekelvscond.

Why? Cuz our teacher was talking abt MKS units – Meter, Kelvin and Second when I wrote it. The Octrimus is just the name of a pen, joined with the name of my school.

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

Chapter 10

A Grimmauld Day

Sirius Black woke up in his usual mood. Disgruntled and depressed. He was far from his Hogwarts demeanour, that of an extremely excited dog.

And the change was quite justified.

It had been more than a month since he was locked up again. Inside that… house… of his. Locked up in near-isolation for a week, since the Weasleys were mostly home, and Remus was sent away by old Dumbles for a jaunt to fields unknown.

Dora was there sometimes, and so was Hestia.

But none could stay for long. At least now he had some people living in his house.

But none of them were Harry. None of them were his godson, someone he’d sworn to take care of.

And again, he failed.

Sirius sighed, more in resignation than sadness, and got up from the exceedingly comfortable bed. Opening his closet, he took out a set of robes and put them on, before retiring to the toilet.

After his morning ablutions, he walked out of his room and crept silently across the landing, careful not to wake up the sleeping bitch.

Also known as his mother, or her portrait at least.

After getting out of earshot, or rather painting-shot of his mother, he started walking normally, reaching the kitchen in a few moments.

Sirius opened the door to see…

Nobody.

For once, he woke up really early, and neither Arthur nor Molly were downstairs.

Oh yes, he thought, Arthur had guard duty tonight.

But Molly should’ve been here. Well, she could’ve gone out to Diagon Alley or the Burrow.

Sirius sighed again and set out to make himself some black coffee.

SCENE CHANGE

Hermione woke up immensely tired. She’d spent most of the last night cleaning, and the rest studying. She looked at her alarm clock and saw that she had woken up almost an hour before her usual time.

And she couldn’t get back to sleep at all.

She fell back on the bed in resignation and crawled out from under the duvet. Looking beside her, she saw Ginny asleep on her stomach, snoring, her covers strewn about.

She felt a stab of anger and jealousy. The entire time they were in Grimmauld, Ginny barely helped, and she didn’t do any work at all. She couldn’t lower herself to even brush a single cupboard.

And, of course, her mother still laboured under the illusion that she could do no wrong. Then also about Harry…

Her thinking paused right there. A very persistent voice in the back of her head insisted that there was nothing between the two of them.

Weirdly enough, the inner monologue did not sound like her at all.

Robotically, she got off her bed and went into the washroom to clean up. Soon later, the robotic quality to her disappeared, and she carefully descended the stairs, mindful of the abuse-throwing bigot, immortalized in an immovable portrait. She entered the living room, expecting to find Mrs. Weasley, but instead, she found Sirius nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Morning Hermione! Didn’t expect you down here so early!”

“Nor I you. What happened?”

“Nothing… just moody.” He grinned.

Hermione grinned back, before a light, insistent tapping jolted her attention towards the window.

A beautiful snowy white owl regally perched on the windowsill, waiting to be let in.

“Hedwig!” Hermione exclaimed, rushing past Sirius to open the latch. Sirius turned his head, and chuckled at the owl.

Hedwig hopped in, and flew to the table, holding out her leg, which had a letter tied to it. Hermione untied the thread and read the envelope. She was surprised to see that it was addressed to her, Sirius, Ron, and Dumbledore, all at once.

“How did he know we all were here together?” Sirius gaped.

“I have no idea, he probably explains it in here.” She cut open the seal with her nails and began reading.

“Dear Hermione, Ron, Sirius, and Dumbledore…

“You must be thinking about how I managed to figure out that you all are in the same place. I’ll tell you how. Every time I sent any of you an individual letter, Hedwig always flew back from the same direction. Well, mostly. A few of Dumbledore’s letters returned from the North, but that’s different.

Since I know each of your houses, well, except Sirius’s, are in different directions, I deduced you all were in the same area, probably under Dumbledore’s protection.” She continued reading. Sirius smiled amusedly.

“And must I say, I’m utterly heartbroken.” The smile dropped.

“I have been sending all four of you letters since the start of the holidays, and none of you thought that it was cruel to deny me any contact with you.” Hermione gasped.

“Anyway, I’m still as well as I can be with the Dursleys. Well, I have gone on an involuntary diet, but I’m used to it by now. Yes, Hermione, I finished my homework, there isn’t much else to do here. Well, except weed, cut, clean, cook and more. I hope you guys are doing well, since I am not.”

“I have one request, though. One request. The only thing I’ve ever asked for. My birthday is a bit more than a week away. So, please, Headmaster, please let me come. I’m starving here, tired, and sad. Please give me something to look forward to. I’ll be indebted to you. Please help me out.

With love and sadness,

Harry”

Hermione was weeping by the time she finished reading. Sirius’s eyes were watering, and he placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Sirius was feeling deplorable. He had again failed his godson. It was unforgivable.

Sirius decided it was time to stop being Mr. Black. It was time for Lord Black to return.

“It’s time to make Dumbledore do something finally. He’s been too harsh in keeping his secrets to himself. We have an Order meeting tonight. I’ll broach the topic then. I’ve failed Harry too many times now. It ends today. Hermione, before the meeting starts, can you hand me the letter? It will help my case. Tell the others too, when they wake up. Ron, Ginny, and the twins will be a potent force. Harry will come here as soon as I can make it happen. Now dry your tears, and get back up. The boy you love will be safe.”

“I… uhh… what?” Hermione stammered.

“You’re lucky that Ron’s too dense to notice, else he’d have blown his top. Your attraction isn’t all that discreet, you know?”

Hermione blushed, “I’m… uhh… I’ve liked him since…” She again became robotic and stiffened. That blasted voice in her head again reminded her, very forcefully, that she in no way liked Harry. The voice implored her that she liked Ron. No, she loved Ron. Not Harry.

Which was completely untrue, but at that moment, she had no control over herself.

Sirius was still talking, “… that Ginny has mostly gotten over her cru… Are you okay there, Hermione? You look a bit peaky.”

Hermione’s voice, not Hermione herself, answered, “Yes, I feel alright. Don’t think much about that. I like Ron much more than Harry.”

Sirius’s brows creased. This didn’t seem normal. “Get some rest, you’ll feel better. I think I’ll help you out today. God knows Molly’s been working you way too hard.”

Hermione suddenly returned to herself, forgetting the robotic moment she had a few moments ago. “Thanks, Sirius!”

His brows creased even more. Something was wrong with her, and he was determined to find it out.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the duo in the room, Hedwig came there with a different mission. The letter was just the most convenient excuse. She sidled over to the edge of the table and lightly shook her tail feathers in a particular spot. An invisible coin-sized object slipped out and fell to the floor. Neither Hermione nor Sirius noticed the light thunk sound it made when it fell. Hedwig jumped off the table and pushed the object under a cupboard. A pre-set sticking charm would ensure it stayed there. She flew back up and groomed her feathers nonchalantly. Hermione turned to go back to her room, but made time to scratch Hedwig’s back. She barked in approval and hopped on her arm. Hermione went to the window and let her fly away. Hedwig took to the air, and soared away from #12 Grimmauld Place.

SCENE CHANGE

Harry put on one of the earpieces James gave him and grinned. He was completely right. Harry could clearly hear Mrs Weasley cooking in the kitchen. And he could hear the radio blasting out Celestina Warbeck nearby.

“You dropped the bug in the living room, right?” he asked her. Hedwig glared at him and jumped on his head.

Harry laughed and held out his arm. Hedwig landed on it and nipped at his ear. “I trust you, Hedwig. You are my smart, white beauty.” Hedwig rubbed her head against his cheek affectionately.

Suddenly, he heard the whoosh of the floo. Hedwig flew down onto his bed and cocked her head at him in confusion. Harry sat down and concentrated on the sounds coming through the earpiece.

He clutched his ear in pain when all he heard were bangs and crashes.

“TONKS! Pray tell, why again? Could you be any clumsier? I just cleaned up!” Mrs Weasley screeched.

“Heh, sorry Molly… can I pay for that?” another voice sheepishly said, presumably Tonks.

“Ask Sirius. He owns the house.” Mrs Weasley answered in a contemptuous voice.

So Mrs Weasley doesn’t like Sirius, Harry thought. He grabbed a pen and his new journal and quickly wrote in it.

Tonks. One of the Order members. Apparently quite clumsy. Since she wanted to pay for something she lost, I’d assume she’s a bit rich.

Mrs Weasley doesn’t like Sirius for some reason.

James then wrote back, and the letters appeared in the book.

Noted. Keep an ear out during the Order meeting.

Of course.

Harry then grabbed a marker and slowly wrote ‘Sirius Home’ on the earpiece he had been wearing. He picked up another and tapped it with his wand, activating it. He put it on, and through it, he could hear faint breathing sounds from another bug, which he placed in Aunt Petunia’s garden. According to James, that’s where the guards rested.

He was spot on.

He took out the earpiece and set it aside. Meanwhile, he set an alarm for 7 PM, which was when he assumed the meeting would start. Laying down, he tried to sleep.

But alas, his uncle had the power to detect sleep, and at that moment, he thundered in.

“BOY! Get your sorry butt down and clean the kitchen!”

“Are you forgetful or just plain stupid?”

“HOW DA…” he bellowed, but Harry’s wand pointing at his face stopped him.

“YOU WOULDN’T DARE! They’ll expel you!” he said, taking a step back.

“And does it appear that I care? Living with you has taught me how to live on nearly nothing. I can, and I will run at any time. You can’t stop me. I already have a solid bank balance, plus magic. Not to mention a serial killer godfather. I really have no disadvantages outside this house.”

“DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF…”

“WHAT? MY FREAKISHNESS? I’m bloody proud of it! I can also bet that right now, your little Dudders downstairs is pissing his pants. And Aunt Petunia is in the kitchen, staying as far away from the staircase as possible. So leave me alone and tend to your abominable family. I have done some research into this house. Into whatever subtle hint Dumbledore has dropped over the years. And I have found evidence. Do you understand what will happen to you if I leave? The death eaters will come. Voldemort’s band of merry masked men will wreak havoc. You, Aunt Petunia, and your dear little Dudley will die in AGONY. So choose. Stay out of my way and stay safe, OR I leave, and you all perish.”

Vernon took a step back, spluttering. Harry glanced at the window. He was pleased to see a foot sticking out of nowhere in the middle of the sky. An invisibility cloak, he realised. The person was an Order guard.

At this point, Harry was randomly stringing together whatever he knew to create a big picture.

Judging by his uncle’s reaction, he hit the bullseye.

Vernon ran down the stairs as fast as his large frame would allow him to. Harry kept his wand aside and laid down on his bed again. He smirked to himself. The guard witnessing this would help his case with Dumbledore. He decided to take a siesta before listening in on the meeting.

It’s not that bad being a Slytherin, was his last thought before he fell asleep.

***

A few hours later, he woke up to an incessant beeping. Putting on his glasses, he grabbed the earpiece connected to Sirius’s house and put it on. Then he turned off the alarm he had set for 7 PM.

It was very quiet, with only faint footsteps being heard across the place. The light crackle of the fireplace accompanied the silence.

After a few minutes of silence, he heard Sirius shout, “ Hey Molly! They are probably coming now!”

Harry grinned. It was time to earn himself a position in MI6. One by one, he heard the floo’s whoosh, and he could hear Sirius heartily greeting them.

“Evening Hestia, you look charming. HELLO THERE SHACKLEBOLT! Arthur! Are the cups still biting? And Mundungus, you dog! Stole anything recently?” Sirius exclaimed. Harry swiftly jotted their names down.

“It’s Tonks’s duty to guard tonight, innit?” one of them asked.

“Yes, Shack. Say, are the others coming?” Harry quickly noted down his guard’s name.

“Darton left the Order last night. And Mackenzie and Sen have some work left in the Ministry. As for the rest, I have no idea.”

“Alright, now we just have to wait for Dumbledore.”

Right on cue, Harry heard a flash of fire through the earpiece. Though he couldn’t see it, he assumed it was Fawkes bringing Dumbledore into the house.

“Good evening, ladies, and gentlemen! Welcome to another meeting of the Order of the Phoenix!”

After having his ears assaulted by a series of ‘good evenings’, Harry shook his head to clear of the headache and concentrated again on the meeting.

AT GRIMMAULD PLACE

When Dumbledore finished the niceties, Sirius decided to speak up. “Headmaster, I believe I have acquired something of great importance you most of us in this room. I’m sure you’ll be quite keen to hea…”

Suddenly, the floo flared up again, disgorging a one-eyed man with a scarred face.

“Evening, Alastor.” Dumbledore calmly greeted. Mad-eye grunted in response and sat down heavily on a chair, taking a swig from his hip-flask. Molly rushed around the room, handing everyone cups of tea with biscuits.

Moody snorted and began casting several detection spells on the cup. Finally, he let out a satisfied grunt of approval and took a sip of the hot beverage.

Sirius sighed and continued, “As I was saying, Harry sent us another letter, and I believe you should hear, more aptly read, what he wrote.”

Dumbledore knitted his eyebrows and held out his hand. “Could I see the letter?”

“Of course.” Sirius handed him the envelope, which he had taken from Hermione before the meeting began.

Dumbledore swiftly opened the letter and began reading it out aloud. His face twisted in a grimace and then turned into a frown of sadness. The same expressions were seen on the faces of the rest of the Order members seated inside.

“Do you… do you think he’s serious about it?” Molly asked, weeping.

“He bloody is!” Moody thundered, “I was guarding his house in the afternoon. I heard his uncle come into his room again to send him off to work. He finally blew up at him. I honestly expected him to burst earlier, but I admire his self-control. I say that everything he said and wrote is complete and utter truth.”

Dumbledore was meanwhile concentrating on the part which said, ‘I’ll be indebted to you’. His brilliant but rather manipulative mind began racing through possibilities he could exploit. He finally straightened up and said, “Very well then. He can come here. Number 12 Grimmauld Place will soon be open to him. It’ll be his new home until Hogwarts restarts on September 1^st. Once I’m back in Hogwarts, I will send him a letter. You can, of course, add your own inputs to the letter by tomorrow.”

The entire Order cheered, and Sirius thanked Dumbledore. “You’ll pass on the Fidelius to him too, right?”

Dumbledore responded, “When he gets here, yes.”

Meanwhile, back at #4 Privet Drive, Harry cheered too and laughed to himself silently.

His plan was a success, and he got an unexpected bonus too. He quickly wrote to James.

The house is placed between Numbers 11 and 13, Grimmauld Place. Under a Fidelius. I know the location, but I can’t write it out at all. Dumbledore will send me a letter tomorrow, with the necessary details. He accidentally told me the secret to the Fidelius too.

Noted. Keep paying attention.

“…at about the Ministry?”

“We still have a few supporters there, but Malfoy's money and Umbridge’s blackmail keep them away or isolated.” A woman answered. He assumed it was Hestia.

“I still don’t understand why you let her into Hogwarts.” Mrs Weasley said.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She was sent here to keep an eye on me. And Harry. There's nothing I can do about that. Arthur, what about the Department Of Mysteries?”

“The guard is still going strong. I’ll be taking over tomorrow night. What are we protecting there? Why are we there?”

“What you are protecting, Arthur, is something of great importance to the Light side. It might as well be the weapon that will win us the war!”

“All right then, Headmaster.” Mr Weasley replied, probably nodding.

“Mundungus, what are the rumours going about?”

“Da shopkeepers an' smugglers are sayin 'ha' 'heir wares are bein sold 'o random people. They don' ask who. I really 'hink 'ha' i' migh' be 'hose dea'h ea'ers.” Some of the Order members grimaced at his thick accent.

“Very well Mundungus. Kingsley, how is the DMLE preparing?”

“I dropped hints to Amelia Bones. She is slowly increasing recruitment and funding without alerting Fudge and Umbridge. She’s on our side for sure.”

“Keep a guard on her. She’s too important to lose.”

“Of course, Headmaster.”

“All right then, if that is all, I adjourn the meeting for tonight. Good night, everybody, I wish you all well. Goodbye!” Dumbledore said, winding up the meeting. One by one, the members flooed out, and after everyone had left, Dumbledore bade Sirius and Mrs Weasley goodnight and used Fawkes to return to Hogwarts.

After that, Harry took off the earpiece and wrote down everything he could remember in the journal. After another hour of staying awake, completely bored, he decided to turn in early.

“Goodnight, Hedwig.” She barked in response, and both of them fell asleep in minutes.

A/N

The ending was a bit shoddy, I agree. It was mainly a kinda filler chapter to introduce Grimmauld Place and provide some background to the future chapters.

Anyway, I’m utterly sleepy, since while Harry had an afternoon siesta, I did not.

So, Imma end this A/N on a random note

I recommend

• Band – AJR
• Song – N’Chi Ya Nani by Robert Hawk Florczak
• Book – Ice Station Zebra by Alistair MacLean
• Food – Chicken/Mutton Biryani. 100%. But get it from an authentic restaurant from the Indian Subcontinent
• IDK really.

So, now that my random note is over, Imma say goodbye!

Cheerio mates!

Buhbye!

Perseus, over and out!

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER, HARRY POTTER

Chapter 11

Potions, Problems And Polyjuice

Harry woke up to his horrid alarm clock. And then promptly fell asleep. Ten minutes later, he woke up again, though to the sound of a crackling flame this time.

He blinked open his eyes and blearily looked at his closet. What he saw panicked him. A large flame burning on the top of the closet. He rushed to grab his glasses and put them on.

Then he audibly sighed in relief.

A phoenix, Fawkes to be exact, perched precariously on the closet. Fawkes trilled cheerfully, and Harry felt the strength returning to his body. The golden bird cocked his head and stuck out his leg. Harry smiled when he saw the thick bundle of letters.

His ploy had worked marvellously. He rushed to his feet, wobbling since they were still rather sore. A few seconds later, he untied the parcel of letters, and petted Fawkes.

Fawkes then flamed out of his room with another cheerful trill, leaving him and his letters alone. He took the first letter and broke the seal on the envelope.

“Dear Harry,

I hope you are as well as you can be. I apologise for denying you any contact with your friends. It was a rather,” he noticed a break in his writing, “foolish decision to make. I agree with you; we were being quite remarkably cruel. Anyway, Mrs Weasley has provided a parcel of food for you,” Harry noticed a large green cloth bag, apparently full of Mrs Weasley’s delicacies, “of course, especially treacle tart, which I hear is your favourite dessert. You can eat them whenever you like, since I have applied a preservation charm to keep them fresh.”

“After some persuasion, we have come to a general consensus to let you come to our headquarters before we were actually supposed to get you here. At 8 PM, on the third of August, a team of mine will come to Number Four, Privet Drive to retrieve you and bring you here. In the parcel of letters, there are others from Sirius, Ronald, Hermione, Ginevra, and the Twins. I wish you well Harry.

With sincere apologies,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore”

“WAHOO!” Harry jumped to his feet from elation. He ran downstairs to the kitchen to find Aunt Petunia packing up Vernon’s lunch.

“Aunt Petunia?”

“Yes?” she sneered.

Harry mocked her sneer, making her face wrinkle in disgust, and told her the news. He grimaced at the joy filling up her face. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to calm him down, and left before he did anything rash.

Back in his room, Harry took out the mirror and called James, who picked up after a few minutes.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?”

“D-Day, 3^rd August, H-Hour, 8 PM.”

James smirked at Harry trying to use movie spy jargon. He decided to play along. “Roger that. James over and out.”

Harry laughed at that, falling on the bed. His saga had begun, and it was his turn to win.

Sitting back up, he thought of the schedule. 3 days after his birthday. Two Wednesdays in between. Two days he could visit Gringotts safely. He picked up the pile of letters. Glancing at the topmost letter, he saw that it was from Ron. He opened it to see his messy scrawl, which never failed to give him a headache.

“Hiya mate! How’s it going? It’s great to talk, or rather write, to you again. Headmaster Dumbledore said that you are going to come in a couple more days. That’s bloody terrific! Have you been somehow keeping up with Quidditch? If not, the Chudley Cannons nearly wo…”

Harry chuckled at his letter. He set it down and picked up the next. It was from Sirius.

“Dear Prongslet,

My god, it’s so nice to write to you again. I am safely ensconced in one of my houses, with several others you’ll meet when you get here, alongside Hermione and the Weasleys. Kreacher, my house-elf is also here, and I thought I should warn you about him. He’s spent years absorbing my dear (NOT!) late mother’s pureblood doctrine.

And he is a little slimy bitch.

I’d rather he kick the bucket (don’t tell that to Hermione, she’s been ranting and raving about this since day one).

Now, considering your letter, you did not eat well. If only I could get out of this stuffy place. The Dursleys will get what’s coming to them. Molly’s sent some food for you. Eat it, it’ll be delicious for sure, and of course, you need the meat if you want to woo them witches.

The entire tribe is waiting for your arrival.

Cheerio!

Padfoot

P.S. – I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you

P.P.S. – I think two inhabitants of the female gender feel ‘something’ for you *wink* *wink*”

Harry smiled widely. Hermione reciprocated his feelings! And Ginny too, but nah. He grinned and picked up the next envelope. It was simple to guess who it was from. The elegant, beautiful handwriting told him simply that it was from Hermione.

“Sirius’ house,
London

17^th July 1995

Dear Harry,

The first thing I will say is that I am impressed. That was the best deduction I have ever seen. Especially from you. If only you had the intelligence before rushing off rashly to do god knows what.

The necessary scolding done, I have to say, I am so proud of you. You have finally risen from Ron’s level. Excellent job finishing your homework. But since I still do not trust what you wrote, I will take those parchments and correct them. While teaching you what went wrong. Just rising won’t do. You will have to keep the growth linear, maybe even accelerating. And there is no choice. You WILL show me those answers.

And eat Mrs Weasley’s food, you need to get yourself back into shape.

I eagerly await your arrival.

Love,

Hermione

P.S. – I need to ask you something, but I can’t really say it on paper.”

Harry was giddy with happiness. From the hints Sirius dropped, and Hermione’s letter, he felt that he had a decent chance with her. He set it down carefully on his bedside table and picked up the next letter.

The moment he reached out to touch the seal, the letter clamped around his hand and refused to let go. He yelled in surprise and slipped off the bed, hitting the floor hard. He immediately knew it was from the twins. Seeing that it wasn’t harming him at all, he calmly pulled it off his arm like a bracelet. The moment it hit the ground, it straightened up, returning to what appeared to be its normal state.

Harry slowly reached out to touch it, and then withdrew his hand back in a flash. When it did not move, he picked it up and broke the seal. He grinned again when he saw the ink constantly changing colours.

“Hiya there Harry!

Jeepers, we’re sorry for your state. If only we were back at the Burrow, with a certain flying vehicle, which, mind you, was destroyed most spectacularly by you and Ron. Guess we have to step up our game if we want to retain our sterling reputation eh?

Did you like the envelope and the ink? Well, we present to you ‘Chomping Envelopes’ and ‘Ever-Changing Ink’, our first products under the brand name Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes!

And you good sir, own 20% of our company! And with that comes a very generous amount of our profit, not to mention a monthly bonus!

With that, young child, we shall take our leave.

Stay safe, eat well, and prepare for trouble (and make it double!)

Good luck Harry,

The Honourable Messrs. Weasley”

Harry was chuckling away at their antics. He picked up the next letter, breaking its seal.

Suddenly, his ring glowed pink and red, and a voice said in his mind, “Love potions detected”. Harry gasped and tossed it away, grimacing at Ginny’s stupidity. How could she think that this was the way to win him?

Now hungry, he got up from his bed and went to the food packet, hoping for a bite or two. But the second he opened the box of treacle tart, his ring flashed again. He threw the box away in alarm, and stared at it, aghast. He hurriedly grabbed the mirror and called James. Soon later, he picked up. Harry saw that he was leaning comfortably against a chair in some office.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?”

“Love potions. Love potions in my food parcel. Strong ones.”

“WHAT! This is not good… OK Harry, here’s what you’re gonna do…”

An hour-and-a-half later, Harry emerged from the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, a backpack slung on his shoulder. He shouted, “I’m going to the park! I’ll be late!”

He kept walking towards the park, making sure to walk quietly. He could hear steps behind, soft and fast, and definitely not Moody.

Good. He wouldn’t have to worry about his magic eye.

When he turned a street, Harry whipped out his cloak and wore it, running erratically to confuse his pursuer, if they had some means of tracking him.

He could hear their groan of frustration. Hiding behind a car, he waited, seeing a short, blond woman go to an empty corner near him and pull off her own cloak. She took out a mirror and called someone.

“Headmaster, he left the house, but slipped away under his cloak soon later. I’ve lost track of him.”

“Do you know where he was going?” he heard Dumbledore respond, though his voice was rather muted.

“To the park apparently. He had a bag with him, so I can only assume that he plans to be there for some time.”

Dumbledore sighed, “Go to the park and wait there. If he doesn’t appear in thirty minutes, resume your vigil at Number Four. Don’t apparate. It will alert Harry. Just follow under your cloak.”

“Of course sir.” With that, she resumed her walk, throwing on the cloak.

Harry waited for a while and then took off his own cloak, and walked to a small private garden, with large bushes. When he heard a soft rustle behind him, he turned sharply, hand in his pocket, which contained his wand.

He saw a thin, wiry, black-haired man holding up a change of clothes.

“Name’s Marc. Get ready, quick.”

In a few minutes, a soft pop was heard in the garden, and Harry walked out of the place to a red car standing nearby, wearing a new set of clothes.

“Good morning sir! You look strapping in that set!” Jones said.

Harry smiled in response and took a seat. Jones revved up the engine and sped out into the highway.

Meanwhile, Harry’s pursuer sat down against a tree trunk in the local park. She opened her purse and took out the mirror, trying to call Dumbledore.

When he picked up, she said, “He’s here sir, just resting on a bench.”

Dumbledore smiled benevolently, and cut the call.

On that particular bench, a black-haired boy with a faint lightning scar looked up at the sky, smirking.

When the car reached London, Jones got out and went to the rear door, taking out a briefcase. Simultaneously, Harry slipped out under his cloak, rushing across the road into the Leaky Cauldron.

Once inside, he waited for a moment and followed a woman who opened the brick wall. From there he jogged to Gringotts, taking care not to bump into anyone.

He entered the grandiose hall of the bank and looked around. When he spotted James on a couch reading a newspaper and smoking a cigar, he went up to him and whispered into his ear, “I’m here.”

To his credit, James did not even flinch, and merely stubbed his cigar on an ashtray and stood up. He strode towards the meeting rooms and after crossing a few of them, he stopped at door 14.

Harry rushed in the second he opened the door, and after checking for any other people, he took off the cloak, packing it into his backpack.

“Greetings Mr Potter. I believe you brought samples of the potioned food?” Drakontooth said.

“Yes, yes. I have it.” Harry panted, while taking out the tart and a few other small packages.

“Give it here please,” Jarkill said, holding out a cloth bag.

Harry tossed the food into the bag and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“It will take some time. Would you like to look at your vaults?”

“If possible.”

“Of course it is. Jarkill will take the food to the lab.”

“Of course, nominate me.” Jarkill grumbled, but he still took the bag and left with a wave.

Drakontooth smirked and led the duo out of the room through a back door. Once they reached the carts, he seated them, and himself sat at the front.

“We’ll be going to premium vaults 60 and 62, and then the basic vaults 27 and 35. Hold on tight, the ride will be rash!” with that, he pulled a lever, and the cart slowly tipped over the precipice, accelerating rapidly.

Drakontooth crouched to avoid the wind, and James screwed his eyes shut. Harry meanwhile was grinning wildly, relishing in the speed of the cart.

All of a sudden, all three of the occupants were drenched in freezing water.

“WHAT WAS THAT!” Harry yelled, shivering.

“The Thief’s Downfall! It removes all enchantments that can be used to cause harm!” Drakontooth yelled back, “Don’t worry, it’ll dry off soon!”

A few minutes later, the cart gradually slowed down, coming to a stop in front of a large bronze door, inlaid with gold.

Harry and James toddled around on their legs for some time, giddy from the ride. In the meantime, Drakontooth took out a silver key and pushed it into a keyhole.

With a loud groan, and then a screech, the door opened to reveal a dark expanse.

“Welcome, Mr Potter, to Vault 60. GJOLA!” he yelled.

One by one, flame torches lit up, illuminating the entire room.

“Whoa.”

“Truly Mr Potter, it is rather whoa.” Drakontooth smirked.

Mountains of Galleons, piles of knuts and chests full of sickles, spread around the cavernous vault.

“This place consists of the entirety of your current monetary wealth. Every month, we add the profits you made from your, or rather your family’s, patents, part-ownerships, et cetera, while deducting some amount as the bank’s profit. All in all, your wealth keeps growing steadily, especially after Sleakeazy’s business boom last month.”

“It’s all mine?”

“Well, most of it. The bank requires you to keep a certain amount in your vault at all times. And some funds are still locked, since they are presided over by a committee or a cooperative. You will need to gain approval from them to use the money. Apart from that, it’s all yours. Would you like to visit Vault 62? I can guarantee you’d like it better.”

“Of course.”

“It’s only walking distance from here, barely five minutes. Follow me.”

After locking the vault again, Drakontooth led the duo through a stone corridor, lit up by lanterns.

Suddenly, a roar coming from somewhere startled the trio. Drakontooth winced, Harry jumped, and James flinched.

“What was that?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“An Elephantan Cave Dragon. Much smaller compared to surface dragons, but that makes it perfect for the caves. It guards your vault. There is another one right beside you, a Ukrainian Ironbelly, but it generally prefers to sleep. The vault it guards is the Lestrange vault.”

“Wait, they still have vaults?”

“Yes, sadly enough. The Ministry did not let us close it. Citing that ‘it would cause tensions in the pureblood faction’. I guess it was to ensure that if Voldemort did ever return, he would have a rather sizeable asset in his hands. We have closed as many avenues of income as we legally can, and so the vaults are only growing at a snail’s pace, compared to yours, Mr Potter, which I’d say is a cheetah.”

Harry grinned and thought for a moment. “What if you find some way not to prevent their income, but to increase their loss such that the vault is drained? Maybe higher rates for accounts whose owners are incarcerated?”

“Even better. What if you remove items that can potentially cause the goblins damage? The laws allow you to defend against wizards. What if you claimed that items in some Dark vaults harm the goblins working near them? It would allow you to seize those items. Just doing that will hurt their cause a lot.” James interrupted.

“That can possibly work. I’m not sure. Maybe this idea has already been proposed. I’ll still propose it again, see if it helps somehow.”

James and Harry shrugged, and stopped at a larger door. Drakontooth took out a larger keychain, with several keys dangling. He chose one of them and stuck it into the keyhole. The door slid open this time, and he again yelled, “GJOLA!” to light up the torches.

In the centre of a room, a large black dragon raised its head and puffed out smoke from its nostrils. Harry and James watched in awe, while Drakontooth jangled the keys loudly. The dragon snarled in protest, covering its head with its wings. It revealed thick legs, shackled with metal chains. Harry grimaced.

While it was necessary to chain it, he was eerily reminded of his own treatment at the Dursleys’ hands. He could almost imagine Hermione’s reaction to this.

After crossing the dragon, the trio reached another door, similar in design to Vault 60’s door. Drakontooth opened it, and repeated the incantation.

To reveal another cavernous expanse, full of closets, chests, small boxes, pieces of really antique furniture, swords and daggers, portraits, and jewellery.

“The contents of this vault are valued even more than Vault 60, that is, if you sell them.”

“Not happening. Ever.”

“Of course not. This room contains mementoes, antiques, furniture and personalia of most of the Potter Family. There are more, but they are kept in Potter Manor, which I suggest you should visit, because it does belong to you.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. I think you should only be here for some time, an hour at best. The potions test doesn’t take too long, so Jarkill will probably return in some time. Look around though.”

“Umm, Harry? Can I look through too?”

“Of course James, you got me this, didn’t you?” Harry replied with a grin. James grinned back too, and started going through the vault. While they searched, Drakontooth pulled out a book from his pouch and started reading.

Harry saw the box his mother had mentioned in the will. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his backpack. Then he saw an old notebook. Harry walked over to it and read the notes in it.

It was the Marauders’ animagus transformation guide, with their own notes and observations. Harry grinned and stuffed it into his backpack too.

James opened a chest and saw a book lying on a pile of jewellery. He opened it to see pictures of Harry’s parents and grandparents.

And also Harry’s own baby pictures.

He chuckled and yelled for Harry, who came over jogging. When he looked at the pictures, he gave a dopey grin and stuffed it in too.

After looking around for some more time, they returned to Drakontooth, who led them back to the cart. In five more minutes, they reached the top.

They entered the meeting room and relaxed on the soft couches. In five minutes, Jarkill returned, a ferocious grimace on his face.

He threw the bag on the table in disgust and sat down heavily on a couch.

“Love potions, lust potions, friendship potions, compulsion potions, suspicion removal potions, intelligence decreasing potions, disgust, apathy, ignorance, the whole bloody lot! This borders on a crime. Hell, it would be a crime anywhere else! If not for the ministry being a whole bunch of bloody idiotic pureblood villains who are not going to do shit about this, because they use all of this themselves!” he yelled, taking a swig from his tankard. Harry was silently fuming, and James had a sombre expression on his face.

Drakontooth grimaced and then smiled darkly. “This could help you, Mr Potter. If your potioner is confident in his work, he will have no reason to suspect you. You’ll have less scrutiny. But make sure to sell the deception. Make it look like you are eating the food. They will rely on that. Now Jark, any idea who these were keyed to?”

“After they identified the potions, they found that some of them used the body parts of some individuals. I cross-checked their DNA with our blood samples. Love and lust potions were keyed to Ginevra Weasley; friendship potions were keyed to Ronald Weasley; compulsion and suspicion removal to Dumbledore; intelligence decreasing potions to himself.”

“And the rest, disgust, apathy and ignorance, to Hermione Granger.”

A/N

Bhaiyon aur behenon, Perseus ne ek aur path khatam kiya hai.

Literally, Brothers and sisters, Perseus has finished another chapter.

WAHOOO!!

Yeah, it feels great to be back in the game, for however short of a time.

I do have my computer science exam tomorrow, and I just cannot remember the theory at all.

Jeepers.

Anyway, with that over,

PERSEUS, OVER AND OUT!!!!

ALLONS-Y!

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

Chapter 12

Filler Chapter (Title Undetermined, Please Suggest Some)

“WHAT!” Harry yelled, standing up and pacing the room.

“HOW DARE THEY!” he snarled, “HOW DARE THEY DO THIS TO ME? Dumbledore, I expected. But my friendship with Ron, a sham? A farce? And how did Ginny do this? When did she do it? She just left her third year! This couldn’t solely be her. And they wanted me to stop caring about Hermione? THOSE BASTARDS! Any way of finding out who exactly, apart from Dumbledore, was behind this?”

“Sadly, no. And the fact that they are trying to potion you makes your tenure at wherever they’re holed up much riskier. You can easily be potioned there. You can’t escape, you can’t brew an antidote. You have to be constantly wary of your food.” Jarkill said, steepling his hands in thought.

“Can you think of any way to swap your food? Or possibly get you an antidote? The antidote is not a practical choice. You’ll need a lot of it to last a month.” Drakontooth suggested. James nodded slowly in agreement.

“Dobby.”

“What?”

“Dobby. He’s a house elf. A house elf that I freed from Malfoy. I normally wouldn’t need him, but since this problem came up, I guess he can help. Moreover, there’s an entire Manor I need to renovate.” He shrugged.

“Employ him them, ask him to come here.” James said, leaning forward.

“Yeah, sure. DOBBY!”

A few seconds later, Dobby appeared inside the room with a small pop

“The great and magnificent braveheart Harry Potter sir called? Oh Dobby is so happy to be called.”

Harry groaned, “Please call me Harry, Dobby.”

“Of course great Harry Potter sir!”

Harry grumbled about overly thankful elves before asking, “Dobby, are you still free?”

He nodded vigorously. Harry worried that he would snap his neck. “Yes Harry Potter sir, no one be wanting to hire me. They calls me weird and brainless and uhh… what was it… a retard, yes sir.”

“Dobby, you are not a retard or anything else they said. It is perfectly normal to want money.” Harry said, ignoring the goblins’ bewildered stares, “But I want to hire you.”

“OOOH YES HARRY POTTER SIR!” he squeaked, jumping in excitement, “I be honoured to be a Potter elf!”

“What would you like as payment?”

“3 galleons a year, sir!”

“What? NO!”

“If you say so, sir. I can do one galleon and seven sickles a year!”

“No no no, I want you to make it higher!” Harry said, incredulous.

“For Harry Potter sir, I can work for free! I don’t need money!” Dobby insisted.

“But didn’t you want money?”

“Yes sir, but not if I bes working for you. You saved my life, sir!” He replied, with a look of utter devotion.

Harry sighed, “If you want to be my elf, you must at least have 3 galleons a week.”

Downcast, he replied, “One galleon a week, Harry Potter sir!”

Looking at his depressed face, Harry relented. “OK, Dobby. I will hire you. What do I have to do?”

“Simple sir! Hold my hand and let me do the rest!”

Harry grasped his tiny palm and let Dobby concentrate. In a few moments, their palms started glowing, and soon after, the glow imploded with a small pop.

Dobby opened his eyes, and with a sombre tone unusual for him, he said, “It is done, you are now my master, Harry Potter sir.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m pleased to have you as family!”

Dobby wailed and clutched onto his legs. Harry bent down and hugged the elf.

“Dobby, can you find me wherever I go?” Harry said, standing up.

“Yes, master Harry Potter sir!” Dobby replied, still jumping enthusiastically. James snickered while Harry looked despairingly at Dobby. The goblins, well known for their stoicism, had slight grins.

“Dobby, please call me Harry. Just Harry, no more.”

“Of course, Master Harry!” Dobby squeaked. Harry sighed and gave up on trying to convince him.

“Dobby, could you go to Potter Manor for now, and begin clearing up?”

“Yes, Master Harry!” he said, before popping out.

“Now, with that sorted out…”

James was interrupted by a loud buzz.

“Mr Potter, Mr Verlan, would you be so kind as to go into that room?” Jarkill said, looking warily at the door. Drakontooth meanwhile went up front and opened the door.

Outside, a goblin runner was standing with a scroll.

“Albus Dumbledore requests an audience with the Weasley and Potter account managers.” He said, handing over the summons to Drakontooth.

“What?” Harry whispered.

“No idea. Let him leave first, then we’ll ask. It could be anything.”

When the runner went away, Jarkill beckoned them out, just in time for Drakontooth to let out a string of curses, exclamations, and expletives.

“THAT SON OF A BITCH WANTS TO MAKE A MARRIAGE CONTRACT! Between you and Ginevra Weasley!”

“He can do that?”

Drakontooth stalled for a moment and then bared his teeth in a manner eerily resembling a shark. “Not anymore!”

Jarkill explained, smirking himself. “Now that you are emancipated and Head of House Potter, you are your own man. Dumbledore used to be your magical guardian, which gave him a lot of freedom in such matters. It should’ve been Sirius Black since he’s your oath-bound godfather, but as he was incarcerated, the Ministry handed over the rights to Albus Dumbledore.”

Drakontooth picked up from there, “Now, any decision he tries to make on your behalf will not impede you in any way. You are not legally required to obey him. But to maintain appearances…”

“The contract will have to be made. But fear not, it will be completely invalid. Allowing him to do this is just to keep our cover and to let him dig his hole deeper.” Jarkill finished.

Harry and James grinned, “Do it then. Maybe add some odd conditions to make it harder on him. Make him suffer.”

“Oh, I will.” Drakontooth gave a wolfish grin.

“The meeting is right now?” Jarkill asked.

“Yes. The old fart never did have any respect for our time. As if we’re at his beck and call.” He scoffed.

“You get going then. I’ll handle any other requests these people have.”

“Is that all we are to you?” Harry mock gasped, placing a hand over his heart.

“Since I consider most magicals as vermin, people is a major step up.” He retorted. James laughed and Harry looked on bewildered.

“I’ll be going then. Jark will probably keep you alive.” Drakontooth said, leaving with a wave of his hand.

When the door closed, Jarkill turned to them. “Anything else?”

“Could Harry take his oath here?” James asked.

Harry was pleasantly surprised. “Really? You’ll let me take the oath?”

“Yes. Getting you inducted will allow us to help you even more, and it will also open up several legal protection passages. So far, you’re our youngest and least trained recruit, but regrettably, we had no other choice. Jarkill?”

“Yes, you can make the oath here. Should I place a silencing charm?”

“If it is possible.”

Jarkill cast the charm and then turned away, taking out a book from his satchel.

James took out a folded piece of parchment from a coat pocket. “Harry, this piece of paper has your oath written on it. This oath is slightly different from the others since it is more of a contract than an oath. That’s because you are still a minor in the Muggle world, no matter your emancipation, and also because you are a very high-profile spy. Therefore, we have to include Child Protection Laws here. Upon making the oath, you will become an operative of MI6, Magical Department. That allows us to train you, arm you, and provide you with supplies, tools, and more. Muggle education is also compulsory in Britain, so we’ll look into that too. And, as a minor, we guarantee to help you if things go south. You have immunity and some other things granted by the government. The rest are bridges that can be crossed when we encounter them.” He explained.

Harry read the oath. There was no ambiguity in its wording.

“All we want from you is loyalty to Her Highness and MI6. Along with that, we want you to obey MI6’s commands unless doing so will endanger your position or your morality. That means that if we ask you to kill an innocent, you’re allowed to disobey us. This also includes an oath to maintain secrecy unless higher-ups allow you to tell anyone.”

“You have to sign this with a blood quill, and also swear not to break the terms of the contract.”

Harry sighed, took the blood quill, and signed on the parchment. He drew his wand and held it out, calmly and clearly saying, “I solemnly swear on my magic that I will not willingly break the terms listed on the contract. So mote it be!”

With a glow, the oath was sealed.

“Welcome, Harry, to the British Secret Services. Pleased to have you on board!” James said, extending his hand.

Harry firmly grasped his hand and gave a hard shake. “Pleased to be on board.”

The duo grinned and stepped out of the bubble of silence.

“It is done, Jarkill. Harry Potter is now an operative of MI6. Officially.”

“Let me be the first to congratulate you on your new job, Mr Potter. I’m sure you’ll make your parents proud.”

Harry shook his hand and sat down, overwhelmed by the events of the day. Jarkill meanwhile took out a small box the size of a large book.

“Now, Mr Potter, take this box. This is an enchanted letterbox, and Gringotts will send all of its genuine letters and messages to you via this. We intend to exploit the Owl Redirection Wards to send Dumbledore false information.”

“Thank you.” Harry took the box. It looked rather plain, only patterned geometrically on the sides.

“Harry, every Tuesday, from 5 PM to 2 AM, Alastor Moody will be the guard at your house. While he is guarding you, take all these enchanted items to the attic. He won’t be able to find them there.” James said.

“Of course.”

“Good. Now, Jarkill, we should be going back. Our agent can only carry so much Polyjuice. We take your leave for today.”

“Of course Mr Verlan. Pleased to help you today.”

“Goodbye Jarkill.”

“Goodbye Mr Potter. It is always good business with you. Wish you luck with MI6.”

“Thank you.” Harry bowed as he left the room.

After they left, Jarkill sighed and took out a gramophone from a cabinet. Placing a record of Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony on it, he laid back on the soft couch and relaxed.

An hour later, Drakontooth returned. Jarkill raised his head and quirked an eyebrow. Drakontooth bared his teeth in response.

“He’s screwed?” Jarkill asked.

“Very.” The grinning goblin replied. They laughed and sat down to celebrate with bottles of grog.

Meanwhile, James and Harry used one of London’s famous black cabs to return to Little Whinging.

Stopping a block away from the park, the duo disembarked, and Harry slipped under his cloak and jogged to the rendezvous. James stood a few metres away, beside a tree, and took out his cell phone.

He used its flashlight to signal Harry-Marc, who was still lazing on the bench with a book. He suddenly looked up and, seeing James, threw his cloak on.

When Harry-Marc left the bench, Harry took his place and removed his cloak. He looked at James and gave an imperceptible nod, which he returned.

After a few minutes, he got up and began walking back to Number 4.

“Aunt Petunia, I’m back!” he yelled when he reached the house. Petunia, as expected, did not respond.

Harry went to Vernon, who was sitting on the sofa. “Uncle Vernon, I’ll be gone for a while on Wednesdays, maybe even the entire day.” Vernon grimaced and grunted in response, and Harry walked upstairs to his room.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he shouted, seeing Dudley inside his room, reading one of his books. His shouts did not reach downstairs since he had placed a silencing charm the day he got his new wand.

Harry took out his wand and pointed it at Dudley. He whimpered and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“I won’t ask again. What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

“Relax, Potter, relax. I was just curious, and I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Harry lowered his wand slightly.

“Are people stalking you?” he asked, sitting on the bed.

“How do you know?” Harry gaped, lowering his wand completely.

“I saw a few of them. Not all of them are too discreet. They had been following you constantly, daily. Keeping an eye out. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do they keep an eye on you?”

Harry sighed, “If I tell you, you wouldn’t feel safe at all with me here.”

“Tell me.”

“Do you know the real reason for my parents’ deaths?” when Dudley shook his head, he continued.

“According to heritage, there are three kinds of wizards. The purebloods, who have been mostly magical for centuries on end, the muggle-borns, who are first or second-generation wizards, and the half-bloods, who are the kids of a pureblood and a non-magical or a muggle-born.”

“These purebloods believe themselves better than anyone else because of their ancestry. They look down upon other non-purebloods and the non-magicals. In reality, all they have is a name and a large bank account. In terms of raw magical power, they are rather subpar.”

“But these purebloods had the money, and whoever has the money has the power. They espoused their ‘values’ in the government and managed to tilt it heavily in their favour. Not to mention, the muggle-borns were much rarer for a long time.”

“Then came the baby boom after the Second World War. Suddenly, muggle-borns were popping up all across town. The population of proud purebloods decreased constantly due to inbreeding and the war. And that led to an influx of muggle-borns into the government. Suddenly, once powerful purebloods were being left in the dust by these ‘upstarts’.”

“If things had gone well, we’d be having a nice, muggle-born dominant Ministry, but alas, the purebloods were keen on having their revenge. They wanted their status back.”

“Then came Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Voldemort, the villain who killed my parents. He was a half-blood himself, but he still supported the purebloods since that’s where the cultivable power was. He didn’t care for the blood thing much. He wanted the power. If the muggle-borns were the ones disquieted, he would have supported them.”

“But anyway, he rounded up a large group of like-minded purebloods to form a group he named the Death Eaters. Their aim? Get rid of the ‘muggle scourge’.”

“Voldemort also looked for ways to prevent death. He found a method to keep himself immortal. What that method is, I do not know, but I can guarantee that it is horribly dark. He would have it no other way.”

“When my parents graduated from Hogwarts, Voldemort had already begun the new war. Raids, killings, kidnappings. They attacked the muggle-borns viciously, claiming that they stole their magic from the purebloods.”

“Right out of Hogwarts, my parents married, and they were thrust into the war. Then, I was born. For some reason, maybe to keep me safe, they went into hiding. My mother most probably found ancient spells to keep us safe.”

“She used the Fidelius charm to hide the house effectively. Essentially, there is a person called the secret keeper, to who we give the information to be kept secret. Once the spell is cast, the entire world forgets all about the secret, save the secret keeper and whoever he chooses to tell the secret to.”

“My parents trusted the wrong person. He told our location to Voldemort, who personally came to kill us. Dad died trying to fight him off. Mum took me upstairs and did some other magic, which ended up saving my life. I remember that night completely. The shouts, the screams, the curses.” He shivered.

“They died that night, all of them except me. My godfather came to take me, but Dumbledore sent another to take me to him. I think you still remember Hagrid?” he said, with a grin. Dudley’s hands shot to his butt. Harry laughed and went on.

“My godfather was framed, and he was sent to prison. And Dumbledore decided to drop me here. You already know the next ten years. Ten years of living friendless, loveless. Then came Hogwarts.”

“I made my first friends there and had a shitton of fun. Until Voldemort returned in a spirit form and tried to kill me. For defying him, for living while he died.”

“Then, in the second year, I had to go through ostracization from the whole school, and then I also had to kill a fifty-foot basilisk to save everyone.”

“In third year, my godfather escaped prison, and I had to confront him, alongside hundreds of soul-sucking monsters.”

“In fourth year, I was entered into a life-threatening tournament against my will. It was hard. I fought a dragon, and quite a few weird monsters.”

“And then came the last task. Voldemort had devised a ritual to return him to a body. I was kidnapped, with another boy from the school, Cedric Diggory. He killed him. He killed Cedric. I saw his life go out right before my eyes. Then he took my blood for the gory ritual. He returned. Magical Britain’s worst fear returned. He duelled me, cursed me, taunted me. I was about to die if not for some rare magic. I still don’t know what it was.”

“He’s still after me. I guess my survival struck him in his sore spot, eh? That’s why this guard is there. They cannot defeat him, but they can buy me enough time to escape. That will most probably won’t happen. He’s still laying low.”

Harry started tearing up. Dudley saw him shake and rested a hand on his shoulder, softly squeezing it.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I was a bitch to you since day one. You’ve gone through far too much for me to add to it.”

“It wasn’t all your fault. What brought about this random change?”

“Generally, whenever you return, you’re just melancholic and accepting of the situation. But this time, there was a hollowness to you, an emptiness in your eyes. Not to mention the frequent nightmares you have. It seemed like you had gone through some traumatic event, and you had. We were wrong, very wrong to have treated you like that.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks, Big D. Aren’t you afraid? Of a terrorist after the very guy you’re with?”

“Nah,” he laughed, “you’re too noble to not warn us of any real danger.”

They chuckled for a while. “I feel much happier that you are fixing yourself. I’m glad your rebel era was short. All that’s left is to make some better friends. Piers is not the best influence on you.”

Dudley laughed, “I agree. Can you spell him to become a bit less insufferable?”

“Not without getting into prison. I’ll tell you more about Hogwarts and all tomorrow. I’m dead tired.”

“Sure Harry, get some sleep. I’ll hold you to your word!” he said, before walking out.

Harry then took out the things from his bag. He kept the letterbox on his table and the books in his closet. Then he took out his mother’s box.

With a whispered ‘tupperware’, the box opened with a click to reveal smaller drawers and an envelope on top.

He broke open the seal and took out the letter.

“Dear Harry,

If you’re the one reading this alone, then we’re sorry. We didn’t make it. Voldemort killed us. I already feel so bad, about something that could happen. I’m sorry you couldn’t get a mother to hug. I hope Sirius is raising you well.

But all that comes later. The real reason I wrote this letter is to tell you about why Voldemort targeted us. If Dumbledore didn’t tell you, he attacked us because there was a prophecy…”

“WHAT?”

A/N

WAHOOOO!!!!

AND I’M DONE WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!

This one was mainly to start the next chapter, which has some material in it.

This was a filler, with some important information.

I wanted to give Dudley a redemption arc, because I had some plans involving him.

Anyway, it’s 1 AM, and I need to wake at 6 AM

So imma end this here, because Perseus needs his beauty sleep.

SO, CHEERIO GUYS! SEE YOU LATER

P.S. I have exams again, so I can’t write anything until after March 3. So hold on till then.

Chapter Text

THE NAME’S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

Chapter 13

MI6

“What the fuck!” Harry whispered. He held the parchment closer to his eyes and kept reading.

“One day, a very pleasant and quiet day, Dumbledore showed up at our doorstep. He was visibly sullen and agitated. We invited him in, gave him the customary tea and biscuits, and sat down to listen to him. We feared that someone we knew had probably died. It is a common occurrence in such times. After taking a deep breath, he looked up forlornly and said, “I have bad news.”

He told us that he was interviewing someone for the Divination post at Hogwarts. A witch, claiming to be the descendant of the Seer Cassandra Trelawney, showed up last.”

“Trelawney?” Harry thought, “That fraud?”

He kept reading.

“Midway through the interview, she froze up and began delivering a prophecy. Dumbledore told it to us word for word.

"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...."

According to Dumbledore, a death eater overheard part of the prophecy, before Aberforth, Dumbledore’s brother, kicked him out of there. When Dumbledore found out, he was afraid. Such knowledge was best kept solely in the hands of the Light.

Not to mention, Voldemort was a very esoteric monster. He believed in prophecy, divination, and all such. I, just like several other muggleborns, did not believe in those things. In McGonagall’s words, it was an ‘imprecise’ profession.  She never put much stock into it either. Nevertheless, when most people believe in something, it is wise to believe in it too. Unless it violates your ethics. Then please don’t, Harry.

But since Voldemort believed in the prophecy, even Dumbledore was forced to, no matter how much he wanted to do otherwise. He said that the prophecy applied to two children. You and your godbrother, Neville Longbottom.

We were, in your father’s words, bloody terrified. You were barely a year old, and here was Dumbledore saying that your life was under threat. It was then that I decided to quit the Aurors and take up almost permanent residence in Potter Manor’s extravagantly sized library. My first day as a Potter was spent perusing the books in the library, so it was no surprise that books were my first solution for anything. I scoured the Potter Grimoire, while James fought alongside heroes like Boras Weasley, the Prewett brothers, Padfoot, Moony, Emmeline Vance, Jeanette Cole, Nina Perez, and several others. Flitwick, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Vector joined in at times too.

And then, I found them.

Two spells. Or more aptly, one spell, and one ritual.

The Fidelius Charm, and the Balem Rakhanim.

The Balem Rakhanim is costly, very costly. It drained the Potter accounts of 10,000 galleons in one fell swoop. But it works, so I think the exchange was fair. It essentially used all the magic it could find from the surroundings to make a shield impenetrable to anything. Not even the killing curse. But sadly, it was only a one-time use thing. If you want details, read the Grimoire.

For the Fidelius, we initially used Padfoot as the Secret Keeper. But Peter convinced us that he was the obvious choice, so we changed it to him. Since I never did trust Wormtail, I will tell you beforehand that if we are dead, then blame him, or any freak accident in the house.

But Harry, the main purpose of this box is to pass on some family heirlooms to you. They are just as priceless in terms of value as they are in terms of sentiment. They contain several goblin enchantments too, which can block several offensive spells.

Every time you cross a milestone, you can give them something from here. It goes all the way from a beaded bracelet to a proper marriage ring. There are also things for males, if you perhaps swing the other way.

Harry, we love you. I wish we had more years at your side. Tell Paddy and Moony that we love them too, and that we hope to see them decades later.

Love,

Lily Evans-Potter”

By the time Harry finished reading, he was pissed.

Pissed at Dumbledore, for everything. Pissed at Trelawney, for deciding his life so early on. Pissed at Voldemort for just being Voldemort. Pissed at his parents for trusting Peter. Pissed at Peter for being the self-serving sanctimonious piece of shit he was.

And he was pissed at himself. Pissed that he couldn’t pull up his socks and become the son his parents would be really proud of. Pissed that he let his education go down the drain. Pissed that he was so easily manipulated, so easily controlled. Pissed that because of him, everyone he loved and cared about were in danger.

His face hardened. With James’s arrival, he started having the barest hints of hope. And there was no way he was going to let that hope fly away too. He was going to kick Voldemort’s arse with MI6, and he was going to thrive through this ordeal.

He kept the box away and laid down on the bed, falling asleep in minutes.

Over the next few days, Harry woke up early, went out for a run, exercised, did his chores and homework, talked about Hogwarts to Dudley, and began practicing for his Animagus transformation.

Finally, on Wednesday, Harry packed a bag with unspiked food, water, and a few books.

“Aunt Petunia! I’m leaving! I won’t be back for a long time!”

As usual, no reply was forthcoming. Harry scoffed and walked to the park, where Jones waited in a red car.

“Morning, Jones!” Harry greeted the chauffeur.

“Good morning, sir! James said you’re going to headquarters today?”

“Yes. Finally, I’ve joined MI6”

“Congratulations, sir. Belt up, and let’s get going.” With that, Jones gunned the car and raced out of Privet Drive.

After an hour of driving around in light traffic, the car stopped in front of an office building.

Majestic Intelligence Services Pvt. Ltd.

Harry got down and stared at the sign while Jones took the car into the building’s underground parking lot. He suddenly jumped when someone tapped his shoulder.

“Not so impressive, eh? The magic’s inside. Come on in!” James grinned. Harry followed him in, eager to see what was in store.

Honestly, it wasn’t too interesting inside, either. Just a large atrium with a lone man sitting at the reception, reading a book. Until James pulled Harry into a corner and pressed a tile.

Suddenly, Harry was freefalling through a gaping hole. He screamed and closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

An impact which never came.

Harry opened his eyes to see that he was slowly floating down to the ground instead of hurtling like a rock. He looked up to see James calmly descending with a smirk.

When his feet touched, he saw a large room plated with steel tiles, runes etched into them. The floor was plain white marble, shiny enough for him to see his reflection.

He looked up shakily and scowled at James, “Couldn’t see fit to warn me?”

James chuckled and knocked on the door. Moments later, it opened to reveal a burly guard standing by a metal detector, armed with a gun and a wand.

Harry was so focused on the guard that he missed the doorman.

“Good morning, James! Who might this be now?”

“Ryan.” He acknowledged, “This boy is our recruit. Since you are not yet part of the operations, let’s just forget his existence, yeah?”

Ryan grimaced. “I can’t wait to get back into action. I hate secrets.”

“Ryan. You literally joined the Secret Service. We are essentially secrets. You busted your leg and got three others wounded that day. You’re lucky you weren’t fired or sent to a sleeper post. Get better quick, and you can join us again.”

He sighed and bade them ahead. James clapped his back and kept going. Harry walked behind him down a corridor and into another small atrium.

James went up to the receptionist and said, “James Verlan. I have a meeting with Casio. Please let him know I’m here, Edwin.”

“Of course, sir. Please go ahead.” He replied, taking a small device and typing something on it.

“Thank you.” James beckoned Harry on.

A few moments later, Harry piped up, “You have a guy named after a calculator?”

“It’s his codename. No one knows his real name. He is our main Head Of Operations, but he still falls under Primus. Primus is the Head Of MI6 Magical Division. He only answers to the Prime Minister and, through him, the Queen. Now, we are going to Casio to get you introduced, named, and briefed. It won’t take too long. You will have to tell him everything about your Hogwarts years, and should you choose to, your life with the Dursleys. We can easily destroy them.”

“I’ve made peace with Dudley. I wouldn’t want to do something like that to him.”

“Your wish. Casio is a squib. Veteran of the Falklands War. He may seem a bit rough, but he’s a good guy. Just don’t piss him off.”

“I’m all for not pissing him off.”

“Good. Now walk faster.” James said, setting off at a brisk pace. Harry sighed and followed after him.

He looked at the signs on the doors as he walked. Barracks, Office, Stores, Armoury and finally, High Command.

When James and Harry walked in, they saw several people hunched over files and computers, typing or scribbling away. As they passed through, a few of them lifted their heads, quirked an eyebrow and went back to their work.

Ever so often, someone stood up with a file and dropped it into a bin like object, which sent it to god knows where.

Then James knocked on a door.

HEAD OF OPERATIONS (MI6 MAGICAL)

CASIO

“Come in!” someone yelled.

James opened the door and walked in, Harry at his heels.

“Good morning, sir. Flair, reporting for duty with our recruit.” He said, snapping into attention.

“Stand at ease, James. I take that this is Harry Potter?” he held out his hand. Harry shook it and stepped back respectfully.

“Good, good. He has manners. Don’t see that much nowadays, eh?” he laughed. “Please, sit down.”

Casio, AKA Peter Thompson, OBE and Veteran of the Falklands War, was a tall, slightly bulky man. He looked around fifty years old, maybe even more, since all of his past records were scrubbed. He had a grey goatee and salt-and-pepper hair, fashionably cut and styled with generous amounts of hair lotion. He wore a plain white shirt and black trousers. He had an easy smile, and his eyebrows crinkled in amusement.

“So, Harry, can I call you Harry? How are you doing today?”

“You can call me Harry, sir. I’m doing rather well.”

“Excellent. I guess I should welcome you. Welcome to MI6, Mr Potter!”

“Thank you, sir. I’m honoured to be here.”

“Of course, of course. Let’s get down to business, eh? Relax in your seat. Tell me, Harry, about your life.”

And so, Harry started telling Casio about his life. After the briefest mention of the Dursleys, he started with his first year. Then second year, and then third year. At the end of the tale about Sirius’s rescue, Casio interrupted him.

“Mr. Potter, you say that Sirius Black is innocent, right? We can help you with that. MI6 can withdraw the warrant for him and make it publicly known that damning evidence has been found which puts him out of suspicion. If we can find a trial transcript, it would help us.”

“He never had a trial.”

“Travesties of justice. Fear not, Harry. We’ll ensure that he can roam around freely in the muggle world. If he keeps out of magical areas, he can be completely free. What we need is a way to tell him without making people suspicious of you.”

“Thank you, sir! He will be overjoyed. What if the public notification is spread over a newspaper? I could say that I read it when I was at the Dursleys.”

“That would work like a charm. Now your fourth year, please.”

Harry regaled them with his fourth year's story but quietened to a whisper when he began speaking about the Graveyard. At the end, he closed his eyes in painful recollection and slumped on the chair.

“You, Harry, have been through a lot. Way too much for a child. I’ve been through a war. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ will never make it easier on you. What you need is help and support, and MI6 will gladly provide it to you. You have given us a lot of information to process. James, please prepare a report on this soon. Nicholas will help you out. Now, Mr Potter. It is a common tradition for MI6 to name its new operatives after mythological heroes. Greek, Roman, Indian, Norse, and more.”

“Woah. Wait… what hero is Casio?”

“The hero of accountants. I’m just joking. Higher-level operatives can choose their names. James is Flair. I am Casio. You will be whatever the machine chooses. Argus Filch is one of the few who didn’t change their name. Argus was, is, and always will be, until he dies, his identity.”

James cut in. “To the world, you’ll be Harry Potter. But to MI6 and related institutions, you will be your codename. Now, let’s see your codename.”

“Harry, this machine right here,” Casio pointed to a small box with a lever and a slit, “will decide your codename. Pull the lever, and it will print your name on a slip of paper. Go on, do it.”

Harry tentatively got up and reached his hand for the lever. He took a deep breath and pulled it.

The printer stood still for a moment, and then, with a beep, it began whirring. Seconds later, a thin slip of paper fell out. Harry picked it up and grinned.

“Perseus says hello.”

“From now onwards, Mr Potter, you will be known as Perseus within MI6’s walls and in every official communication.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fantastic! Now, let’s get on with discussing how your training will go. Sit down.” Casio relaxed into his chair and sipped from a cup. “Refreshments?”

James and Harry both opted for cups of coffee with cookies.

“So, Harry! MI6 Magical works a wee bit differently from the rest of the department. We have to handle everything magical. International relations, international espionage, internal affairs, counter-terrorism, everything. Now, with such an incompetent Ministry, we are forced to do more. Our team is also smaller than any other. The main reason for that is because the muggleborns are afraid of the Ministry. Technically, what we do is treason to the Ministry.”

Harry gulped. Treason was a big thing. But he had to do this to keep his loved ones safe.

“Because of our small ranks, we need all of our, or at least most of our, employees to be well-versed in everything. Espionage, guerrilla warfare, fighting, discussions, security, negotiations, what not. Due to your young age, we will not be as demanding of you. Our primary focus will be your education, magical and muggle, defence training, minor offensive training, espionage, fitness, and some other things. As you know, your timeline is short. Very short. Which is why you’re going back to third year.”

“Pardon?” Harry asked. Casio stood up with a smirk and paced around the room, building up the tension.

“MI6 owns a few time turners, of varying power. Some can send you back five days, some an hour at most, and one can send you back three months. That is the one you will be using. In three hours, you and a team we have assembled will go back three months into the past. There, you will learn your muggle courses so that you can get a Uni degree if things go south in the Magical World. For the magical courses, we will focus on the important ones. Transfig, Potions and DADA, primarily. As in Hogwarts, you can choose to learn Runes or Arithmancy. I would personally suggest you learn them. Occlumency is also a compulsory thing. It is a branch of the Mind Arts that is used to block intrusions to your mind. It can also be used to keep emotions under check, memories properly organised and other things. I am not too well versed with it.”

“Can I also take up Animagus transformation?”

“If you would like to. Though I warn you, the team has no animagi. You’ll be on your own.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We have to save Britain from Voldemort. There’s no holding back on that. You will keep using the time turner as much as required. Without interfering with the progression of any other branch of you at the same time. As in, you go to, let’s say Wales. Then after three months you come back. The next jump, you go to Northern Ireland. Your locations will be as far apart as possible, to reduce chances of you meeting yourself.”

Casio suddenly opened the door to reveal a gobsmacked man holding a tray with their refreshments. Casio took them and bade the man away.

At Harry’s confused look, he said, “I have great hearing. Heard him from a mile away.”

Harry grinned and dipped a cookie into his coffee.

“Now, Mr Potter, what I ask might just ruin the mood. Could you please tell me about the abuse you faced with the Dursleys?”

Harry froze. “Do I have to?” he whined.

“You don’t, but telling us would help us bring justice to them.”

“No, please don’t jail them. It would destroy my fledgling relationship with Dudley.”

“So I should just ignore it?”

“You could probably just destroy their reputation. It would be fitting.”

“We might be able to do that,” James replied.

“Dudley did hurt me a bit, and he was also involved for a short time with the drug world. Please don’t hurt him.”

“We won’t, but Scotland Yard will keep an eye on him. If he messes up majorly again, he’s going to prison.”

“I honestly wouldn’t mind if Marge Dursley was faced with her due justice.”

“We WILL be able to do that.” James grinned.

“Now, another thing. Apart from Miss Granger, do you know anyone who will potentially help us?”

“I only know some of the muggleborns in Gryffindor. Dean Thomas and Fay Dunbar are unremarkable, but a muggleborn in a lower year, Colin Creevey, is obsessed with photography. I have no idea how you can use him, but yeah.”

“We will look into them. So far, Miss Granger is a shoo-in for a position in MI6 Magical. We will approach her when she reaches adulthood. Or if things deteriorate too much.”

“Could I tell her anything about this?”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but no. This is too high risk. We haven’t vetted her yet, and I am not the one who can permit you. Both the PM and Primus will have to agree to it. Even then, I’ll try. Bureaucracy is a tiring, slow and rarely fruitful process.”

“It won’t be that hard. I’ve heard that Primus has a soft spot for young love.”

“Wha… what? James… what?” Harry stuttered. Casio laughed aloud.

“In that case, I have to do it for sure!” he guffawed at Harry’s blush.

Harry was royally embarrassed, but he grinned when he thought of Hermione and him getting together.

“Don’t worry, Harry, I will do my best. You get through this course with flying colours, and I promise I’ll set the wheels turning. Now, I guess you should meet your new partners in crime and treason!”

Harry laughed and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“James, they are in the barracks, rooms 6 and 7. If you want, you can accompany them too.”

“Probably not. I have things I need to handle soon.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Sir?”

“Will I be able to retain my lordship if I go into the past?”

Casio thought for a moment and then nodded. “The magic of the lordship lies in the ring and your blood. As long as you have those, you’ll still retain your lordship.”

“So, I can access my belongings and my properties?”

“Yes. Though I would suggest you stay away from Gringotts, Hogwarts and the Graveyard. I know you want to save Cedric, but when you brought back the body, it became an inviolable point in time. Just like Voldemort’s resurrection.

Harry sighed. “I understand.”

“Don’t be so sad, Harry. Cedric is most definitely in a better place. I won’t say that you’ll ever get over his death, but don’t let it get you down. Think of the others who will get harmed if you stay fearful and complacent. Use his death, Harry, to fight, to motivate, to unite. He can be the key to bringing all Hogwarts students together against Voldemort.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ve been in a war myself. I know how it feels. Godspeed Harry. Good luck.”

AIAIAIAIAIAI

A/N

Hey there friends! My school is running through the syllabus very fast RN, so it means that I cannot devote that much time to writing. But that doesn’t mean that I am gonna stop this!

No no no… I will keep writing, even if it is the last thing that I do.

Anyway, it’s 1:30 AM RN, and I am dead tired. So, good night guys

Cheerio!

Perseus, over and out!

P.S. – please don’t think that I am vain for putting my name as Harry’s codename. Perseus’s story was a good one, and my aim was never to put my name as his. It was just to have the most accurate character similar to Harry. Perseus stood out, and I liked it. It didn’t even occur to me that it was my username.

P.P.S. - Hey there guys, I have no idea about women, so if you see something inaccurate, please let me know.

P.P.P.S. - I do not work on commission, nor do I commission anyone for pics, chapters, yada yada yada. So please don't contact me with commission requests.

Chapter Text

YOUR FAVORITE BOI IS BAAAACKKK BABAYYYYY!!!!

Yeah. Blame Electrostatics, Current, Integration, Chem, etc., for my extended leave of absence.

For which I vehemently apologise.

Like, VEHEMENTLY.

There are waaaaayyyy too many comments for me to answer, which is why I’m skipping them.

Grade 12 is a bitch and I would very much like to burn down my school.

But sadly, I reiterate, arson is illegal.

Anyway, guys, let’s get on with it.

Pre-Warning – NOT MY BEST CHAPTER, PLEASE DON’T HAVE EXPECTATIONS

Perseus presents his primum opus,

THE NAME’S POTTER, HARRY POTTER

Chapter 14

The Team

James led Harry down the barracks corridor. The duo walked steadily in silence, James’ shoes tapping on the floor. It was the only sound until Harry spoke up.

“Casio seems like a good guy.”

“He is. Only because he is one of the rare few who do not aim for fame, glory, or political favours. He isn’t here to help himself. He’s here to help his people. The Falklands taught him to be a leader. He keeps the rowdy ones in check and the lazy ones off their arses. We’re lucky to have him.” James finished, stopping by a door.

“I believe it’s time to meet your team.”

James rapped on the door. A few moments later, they heard a stumble and a crash, and the door opened.

“Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?” the doorman asked.

“Flair. MI6 Senior Agent. Level C clearance. Casio sends his greetings.”

The man wrenched open the door. Harry jumped in surprise.

“Would I be right to assume this is Harry Potter?” he asked, pointing at Harry.

“You would be correct. Perseus, meet…”

“Perry Markham. AKA Ajax.” Harry shook his hand. “I’m Perseus. You already know my name.”

Ajax laughed. “Of course I do, who doesn’t? Come on in, meet the guys. I’ll get the girls in the meantime.” Saying that, he took off.

They saw 3 men sitting on the lower tiers of rather messy bunk beds, playing with Uno cards. When the duo walked in, they raised their heads.

“Good morning, gentlemen, I am Flair.  This young man is…”

“Harry Potter. Perseus.”

Their eyes widened comically. The nearest man stood up first, jumping over a small pile of clothes on the floor and stuck his hand out.

“Aw hell nah mate, pleased to meet ya! I’m Aaron Tiller, codename Fionn!” he said. Fionn was a short-ish guy with brown hair, black eyes, and an ever-present smile. He shook James’ hand too, then leaned back on the bed.

The rest of them stood up.

“Otto, Otto Vaughn. My codename is, uhh, Helen…”

Harry quirked a brow at the tall, tanned, black-haired man. Otto had a well-defined jaw and brown eyes.

“Helen… you’re serious?” Harry grinned.

“Yes, I am. Now shut up.”

The last man came to him. He didn’t have much of a build, yet he looked intimidating. He seemed to be the oldest of the men. Stooping slightly, he shook Harry’s hand with a firm grip. He had greying black hair and dark eyes.

“Thomas Levinson. Osiris. Hogwarts ’61 to ’68, Ravenclaw. Aurors ’70 to ’72. After that, Flair himself recruited me. I will be the team leader, the man in charge, for your excursion. Pleased to meet you, Perseus.”

“It is an honour and a pleasure, sir.”

“Mine too.”

Then they heard knocks on the door. James opened it to reveal Ajax and a pair of women standing outside. Ajax skipped in, but the women followed sedately.

Ajax was a tall blond guy with blue eyes. A scar cut through his lower cheek. He stood tall and unabashed. The women acted haughty and regal and sniffed at Harry.

The dark-skinned one grimly quirked an eyebrow. “This is Harry Potter? Rather underwhelming.”

Harry frowned in affront. She suddenly broke composure and laughed, “Bertha Turner. Call me Betty, though. Bertha is just… old. My codename is Sita.”

Betty had dark curly hair and brown eyes. She was lean and tall, and carried herself with a false air of haughtiness.

The other one, white skinned, with brown, straight hair, ruffled his head.

“Aileen Petroni. My codename is… Jason… but I would rather you call me Jacie!” she said, her voice rising towards the end.

“Helen and… Jason? What happened?”

“We were both inducted simultaneously. For some reason, the machine malfunctioned that day and, well, gave us these names. Hooray!” she mock cheered, “These idiots haven’t let me forget since. Nor him, to be honest.” She shrugged.

“Now, now, Jace, enough with the sarcasm. Harry, do you have anything we need to get for you?” Ajax asked.

“I do not think so.”

“Excellent. Let’s get to know each other now. I’ll start!” he plopped himself on the bed. Osiris and James sat on chairs opposite the beds. Helen and Fionn took the upper decks, and the rest arranged themselves around Ajax.

“I was born in Durham, 23 years ago. I’m a squib, but luckily, my parents did not toss me into the street. That didn’t save me from those abominable blood purity bastards, though. I implored my parents to send me to a Muggle school, and thankfully, they did. I studied hard, partied hard, but in the end, I got into a local college. From there, the army. MI6 Magical found me, and here I am! I may be newer than most here, but I am well-trained. Fionn, take over.”

Fionn smirked. “I was born down under, in New Zealand. Came here 12 years ago, when I was fifteen. I became a teacher, but one with skills really not required to be one. Since I am the only teacher, it is my job to handle your Muggle education. Jacie?”

“I was born in Wales, but I came to London when I was five. I grew up in this fancy neighbourhood called Crawley.”

“Wait, Crawley?”

“Yeah?”

“One of my friends lives there!”

“Oooh! What’s their name?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Interesting. I’ve been to her parents’ clinic several times to adjust my braces. I met Hermione a few times, too. She’s nice, if a bit inside her head.”

“Anyway, soon later, my Hogwarts letter came! I left four years before you arrived, as a Hufflepuff, and then took a course on magical education. I’ll be handling that for you!”

“Magical education?”

“The important subjects. Transfig, DADA, Charms, Runes and Arithmancy. COMC and Herbology are yours to handle.”

“You will help, right?”

“Of course! Flair gave you a mirror, right?” At Harry’s nod, she continued, “Call him, and he will give me the mirror. I’ll be able to help you then. Just no cheating. I am a teacher.”

“Of course…” he sighed.

“Heeeeelllleeeeennnn!” Ajax called.

Otto sighed, “Hate that name. What the hell is Helen even famous for? Looking good? Jacie got a good name, Jason is waaay better. Anyway…”

“I’m from Southend-on-Sea. Then I joined the SAS, after the briefest stint in the infantry. MI6 took me in because apparently one of my grandparents was a magical… I guess if I have any descendants, they could be magicals loyal to MI6…”

“Isn’t that like brainwashing them?”

“Legally speaking, no, but morally? Yes. Alas, sometimes… morals cannot trump necessity.” James said, leaning back on the couch.

“That… is rather grey, isn’t it?”

“Has being Light ever helped? The Voldemort problem was solved, that too incompletely, by your miraculous survival. The Light stuck to stunning spells and disarming spells, while Voldemort’s forces, which were far fewer in number, used killing curses, exploding curses and the like. And which side was winning? No one here advocates indiscriminately eliminating foes. But when we are attacked, we will not hold back. No Unforgivables, but we won’t stick to simple school spells.”

“Makes sense… if they’d properly cracked down upon the purebloods, he wouldn’t have returned.”

“There are sufficient reasons to endorse our stance on the war… anyway, Sita?” Ajax said

“Faversham. Hogwarts from 1975 to ’83, Ravenclaw. Been in this business for ten years, since I was 21. Casio was the one to scout me out. I joined barely two years after these two oldies. My first mission was with them, and since then, they have been my partners of choice.” She said, fist-bumping Osiris, who chuckled.

Osiris started speaking, “Liverpool. Lived there for eleven glorious years, until a certain McGonagall visited my house. So, before the year started, we moved into a small guesthouse for a week, so that they could buy my things and send me off. Then, while I was at Hogwarts, they moved here permanently. After my seven years, I joined the Aurors, and two years later, the SAS. 3 years in Ireland, during the Troubles, until Casio pulled me here.”

Harry grinned, “Thanks for helping me out!”

“It wasn’t that big of a matter… well, save the money we’re about to spend on you. Don’t worry, you’ll pay it all back with blood, sweat and tears.”

Harry gulped and nodded.

“Excellent. Now, let us discuss your training. We’ll operate in three jumps. For the first jump, your focus will be on your Muggle academics and building up your strength and endurance. This entails days and nights of rigorous exercise, studying, and at times, both combined. By the end of that, you should be fit enough to start the second phase. We’ll return to MI6 a day after today, and we’ll jump back three months again.” Jacie said.

“For the second jump, you’ll spend most of your time with me and Helen,” Osiris said.

“We’ll make you as much of a fighter as we can. Basic martial arts, field medicine, the like.” Helen added.

“How bad will I want to run away?” Harry quipped, smiling queasily.

“Don’t worry, we have three magicals well-versed with the incarcerous spell.”

Harry thumbed up nervously, fidgeting.

“For the last jump, we’ll take up your spy training. All in all, maybe only 5 per cent will be like the idealised James Bond concept. I’ll train you how to lie, how to act, Occlumency, espionage, et cetera. This will be a bit more lax compared to the last two jumps, so if you’d like, we can take up some miscellaneous thing. James mentioned you wanted to be an animagus?” Sita said

“Yep!”

“Well, we can start the process during that time, but be warned, it takes at least a year, so after the last jump, you’ll have to continue alone in Hogwarts.”

“If your plan works as it should, won’t I suddenly grow up in a short time?”

“You are right. I’ll place a slowly fading illusory charm on you. It’ll seem like you’re still your normal height, but it’ll fade. People will assume you got a major growth spurt, not uncommon when magic is involved.”

Harry nodded, understanding the plan. Ajax perked up, “Shouldn’t we show him his kit and all?”

“Why not?” Jacie shrugged. Osiris and James broke out of their private conversation, and the latter asked, “What kit?”

“Come along, you’ll see.” Ajax stood up and walked to the door. In eerie synchronicity, James and Osiris looked at each other and plopped their feet on the table and relaxed into the soft seats.

“We’d rather catch up with each other. You kids go on.”

Harry shrugged and left the room, closing the door. Outside, Sita frowned, “Well, that was weird.”

“You don’t need to tell me.”

A few minutes later, an elf popped into the barracks to clean up, yelped in surprise, and popped away again.

The rest of them went deeper into the bowels of MI6, led by Ajax, and at times, Jacie (since he was prone to mixing up his left and right).

After a few minutes of brisk walking, they reached a metal door with a card swiper on the side. Ajax flicked a card out of his pocket and swiped it. The doors slid open with nary a noise.

Harry noticed the thickness of the iron or steel doors. This part of MI6 was very secure.

“Welcome to the storage room. Also, the armoury, but we’re here for the supplies.”

“How long do we have before the jump?”

“I guess an hour and a half.”

“Sufficient. I hope you got your clothes and armour from Dave?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“That’s good. If we had to kit you out for that too, we’d be very late, especially with someone like Jacie here.”

“I resent that accusation.”

“I haven’t accused anything… anyway, she’s obsessed with fitting out people.”

“AJAX!”

“She’s also a bit on the mad side…”

Harry laughed when Jacie slapped the back of Ajax’s head.

“So, what first? Harry, did you get the box of goodies from James?”

“He said there were a few things left out.”

“What did he give you?”

“Ummm… the expanded suitcase, trackers, bugs, an obliviator, mirrors, journal, the armband and the emergency pouch.”

“That leaves the weapons. Helen, get him his blade. We’ll get the signet rings and the pen. Yes, paperwork included. Sita, could you get the supplies? And Jacie… you do whatever.” Fionn said, walking to a large room with Ajax. Sita waved and went the other way. Jacie stuck by the remaining pair and walked to the blade case.

“Harry, measurement time. Hand inside the socket. Chop chop!”

Harry slipped his hand into the socket, which immediately tightened. Within moments, it loosened, and he pulled his arm away.

Five boxes came out of a slot. Jacie opened each one and inspected the blade inside.

“These blades are mostly second-hand, so we have to choose the best one of them.” She explained.

“I think this would be a good one,” Helen said, picking up a sharp blade.

“Yeah, I think this is our best bet. Harry, use it.”

Harry picked it up and felt its low weight and small reach. “How much damage can this even deal?”

“Sufficient damage. These are all that we have. Now shut up and take it.”

“Alright, alright, no need to be confrontational.”

“Good, now follow me. We need to choose our tents.” Jacie said, pulling Harry into an adjoining room. Inside, tents were stacked ceiling high in rolls.

“They are all the same. There's no point in choosing, but it's best to borrow one that hasn’t been used much. God knows what other users have done to these poor tents. Check the index, tell me which number is the rarest.”

Harry flicked the logbook open. He scanned the last few months and found a suitable candidate.

“Number four!”

She took that tent and placed it in a side room to check it properly. Moments later, Harry stood up in alarm when he heard retching.

Jacie returned, queasy, “That ain’t nothing but a mistake.”

“Now number five!”

Jacie repeated the procedure and returned looking much better. “This will do. Put it in the logbook. Number five and code 61176.”

Harry jotted it down and followed Jacie out. They saw the rest of them checking out some Bond-like gizmos. But when Helen separated from the group to look at something, Harry followed him out of curiosity.

He walked into a garage.

“Oh. My. God.” Harry gazed at the sleek mechanical wonder in front of him. From his limited automobile knowledge, he identified the logo.

“A true beauty innit? It’s a prototype. Bentley was trying to make her purr, but she instead blew up. There are only thirty of these cars in varying stages of development. 25 of them are owned by us. With our ‘magical’ touch, these cars have become one of the best-performing cars. She can now, if needed, store 10 people, and it does have a few of the stereotypical Bond gadgets. Pity, there is no ejection seat. I can imagine quite a few deserving victims. This queen’s got an air-cooled turbocharged V8, bullet and spell-proof windows, and weighs only 1000 kg, meaning more speed. It can hold weapons too.”

“How much cooler can she get?”

“Hmmmm… let’s see. A roof mountable 30 cal Browning, maybe an ATGM, but who needs all that much inside a city? This is the only type of car MI6 Magical uses.”

“What about James’ Lexus?”

“That’s his car. Jones is an MI6 agent, though. Chauffeur, getaway driver, hell, he can also drive a tank if we give him a crash course. There are tales of his bravery. He drove a Land Rover into enemy land in the Falklands, his team cutting down anyone who came close. It was stupid, reckless and dangerous. Perfectly in character for SAS.” He said, sighing wistfully at the end.

“Now come on, Harry, we’ve dallied quite a bit.”

“Where to now?”

“Prep. You’ll need to wear head protection, pack your bags into mokeskin and then break the laws of science. The usual.”

Harry chuckled. “How safe is this entire time travel thing?”

“Perfectly safe, there have been no incidents so far.”

“Great.”

“Maybe because we’re just the third group to ever use it.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I am not… follow me!”

They met up with the team again. Everyone carried a suitcase similar to Harry’s, and an extra suitcase, presumably full of food, potions and all. Fionn pointed at two suitcases, “These are yours. Grab them and follow Sita.”

“Why so many supplies?”

“We want to be completely unseen. Stealth is wealth. Grab your case and come. An elf will get your backpack to the correct room. It’s gonna take time to prepare, so let’s get moving quickly!” Sita yelled.

“Wait, since we’re going back in time, won’t the operators know?”

“Each of our faces will be covered. Then we’ll be escorted out of a back entrance, after which we’ll apparate to our camp. Simple as that. It’s all planned out, don’t worry.”

Harry nodded, still uneasy. Nothing went well around him. He was his own Murphy’s Law. Even then, he squared his shoulders and followed them.

One floor down, they entered a hallway full of scientists milling about, most of them clad in white lab coats. One of them noticed the group and came to them.

“Scientist Level C, Adam Baker.” He held out his hand. “I would assume it is your group that wants to go back in time?”

“Yes. Please call for Flair and Osiris if possible.”

“Oh, no worries, they’re already here. Follow me, I’ll take you.” He said, walking away. The group followed closely, their casual clothes setting them apart from the white abyss. They entered a darkened chamber.

“This room lies above a major leyline, allowing us to draw immense amounts of magic from the earth. Now, in this room, you’ll find a rune painter and a set of potions. First drink them, and then have the runes painted on your arms. Then wear a helmet with a visor and sit down.”

One by one, they entered, drank the potions, got the runes and helmet, and sat down inside a large, monolithic stone structure carved with shimmering runes. The inside was bare, with only a faintly lit candle with a flame freezing charm, and seats hewn from the rock. Their luggage was stored on their bodies inside mokeskin pouches.

“Godspeed friends” James said, poking his head in before he was taken out.

The team sat in silence as the stone was sealed shut. Fionn woke Osiris so that he wouldn’t be taken by surprise.

A timer flickered on.

60 seconds

45 seconds

20 seconds

Harry found as much purchase as he could on the smooth rock and braced.

10 seconds

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

BOOM!

The stone slowly began spinning and accelerated smoothly, until it started spinning on the wrong axis. Sita and Helen, taken by surprise, slipped and fell on the floor and rolled to the wall. Jacie fell with a yell, knocking over Ajax too. Fionn slipped too, and Osiris soon followed. Finally, the angle became too much, and Harry’s grip faltered.

As the stone began to slow down, everyone raised their heads and panted heavily.

Fionn availed the use of a previously unseen barf bucket, while the rest tried to recover from the nausea, the potions helping.

Five minutes later, the seal was broken open, and the door was taken out carefully. Two masked men entered. Everyone immediately pulled down the visors of their helmets.

“Hello there, I am Bradley Darlen. He’s Parker Cromwell. Now come on, to your feet. You’ll be able to apparate away once we’re out of the building.”

One by one, they stood up queasily and exited the stone to enter a pristine white room, separated from a control room by a door and a glass window.

Bradley let them out. Harry overheard a middle-aged Japanese man humming.

“Chicken attaaaaack, chicken ataaaaack, watch your back…”

“Ummm, Brad? Who’s that?”

“Takeo Ischii… cool guy, if a bit wacky. But by the lords, he is the best goddamned yodeler I’ve ever heard.”

“Huh… guess I’ll listen to him someday soon…”

“Try to… OK! So, at this moment, there are 2 of you existing simultaneously. If the other jumps were successful, there are four of you running around. Thus, you will have to be confined to one area only, completely independent of the other spots. It will be very isolated, maybe even in a forest. Wait… your first spot IS in a forest, the Forest of Dean, deep inside it. Given that you properly ward the area, you’ll be able to do whatever in there. For supplies, use your own, or apparate to the nearest store and buy whatever you need. Any questions?”

“How do you know all this? I mean, all this planning, it’s happening 3 months before I accept! How were you so sure I would accept?”

“This plan was in place for 5 months, relative to your time. And we sent James because he’s… persuasive. We were 90 per cent sure you would accept, which is why we prepared beforehand. If it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen, that’s it.”

“That makes sense and feels rather manipulative… I guess I’ll punch and thank him when I get back!”

“I guess… now people! Follow me! Can you guys handle the apparition?”

“We have 3 magicals capable of apparition… I think we’ll handle it well.”

“Excellent. Now here are the coordinates.” Brad handed them a piece of paper.

“I can get there. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome! Put in a good word for me, please! Godspeed!” He called out, walking away after leaving us at the door.

Parker shook our hands. “Good luck. Especially you, Harry. Show them Death Eater bastards the power of impurity.”

“I will”, Harry said. With a nod in response, Parker walked away.

Jacie looked at the coordinates. “I think I can get there. Wait up, I’ll scout,” she disapparated, leaving the rest of them in silence. Moments later, she apparated back in.

“All clear. Sita, Osiris, use legilimency on my mind and find the location.” She said. Sita and Osiris entered her mind and saw the clearing. One by one, they took the luggage and people to the spot.

Finally, when Sita side-apparated Ajax, he went with her, yelling, “GERONIMOOO!”

A/N

It is 2:30 in the morning right now… as in 2:30 AM. Sleep deprivation is imminent.

Anyway, as usual, you have to wait for far longer for chapter 15. As I said before, Grade 12 is in full swing. My brain is melting since I cannot for the life of me understand why R-X + AgCN gives R-NC and not R-CN, while it gives R-CN with KCN…

WHHYYYYYYYYY

This wasn’t my best work. It’s only meant as a basic intro to the new side characters. I’ll be skipping the training, jumping back to the present time, with Harry returning to Number Four.

For the training, I might make a separate fic.

This’ll allow me to make a believable OOC Harry

Anyway, guys, cheerio!

Goodnight!

See ya… at some point or the other.

Perseus, over and out!

Chapter Text

PERSEUS HAS RISEN AGAINNN!!!!!

This time the blame is squarely upon Advanced Algebra, Magnetism, Exams, Exams, Exams, more Exams, Ketones and Aldehydes… and finally Nuclear Physics…

Do I apologise this time? Nah

Bro, just consider my side. I am utterly spent. We finished the entire syllabus of grade 12 in 5 months. That is too much. Now we’re gonna revise grade 11, and then again revise 12th for JEE.

So just put yourself in my shoes and try to sympathise.

Anyway, some comments and things need to be addressed.

First, PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT I AM A MINOR AND I CANNOT AND WILL NOT COMMISSION ANY ARTISTS FOR MY WORK!

Second, only one guy caught my Chicken Attack reference. Shame on everyone else

Third, there's one other thing EVERYONE missed. HEHEHEHE

Sorry for the snark, guys, I’m just a bit broken RN. My crush is one of my closest friends and I don’t wanna risk the friendship, and I look like a runt, and I can’t speak without a stutter. My friends don’t care about me, and I’m the only one putting in effort, and I just wanna jump off the roof and get shit over with.

So yeah, I am a mess… anyway, back to the fic.

Perseus presents, his primum opus,

THE NAME’S POTTER, HARRY POTTER

Chapter 15

It Begins

A Lexus again parked in front of the same nondescript house in Surrey. But this time, instead of a well-dressed man, a casually dressed teen left the car, suitcase, and backpack in hand.

“Goodbye Jones, thanks for the ride!”

“No bother, sir. Good luck, and godspeed Perseus!”

“Thanks mate. See you… well… later!”

With a wave, Jones drove the car out of Privet Drive. Harry straightened up and rang the bell to #4. His aunt’s sneering visage greeted him at the door, and he strode in with nary a bother.

“BOY! Where were you?”

“Outside. Wanna make a fuss out of it?” he replied, quirking an eyebrow and calmly drawing his wand.

Vernon paled and went back to his TV show. Petunia sniffed imperiously and went back to the kitchen, her hands slightly shaking in fear.

He passed Dudley’s room with a “Hello Dud!” and entered his own, locking the door.

With a wave, Harry’s image in the mirror became a few inches taller, his shoulders broadening. He didn’t look like a gym maniac, but he was no longer the short, scrawny guy he used to be. Hedwig hooted excitedly from her perch. Harry chuckled and scratched her back. Hedwig crooned and rubbed against his finger.

“Like my new look, Hedwig? God, I missed you… you wouldn’t know, but I wasn’t here for 10 months. I can do magic outside now, so finally I think we can get ourselves some good fun, innit?”

Someone knocked. Harry quickly recast the illusion and opened the door. Dudley smirked, “Thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Sure. Get your ass in.”

Dudley laughed, plopping down on a chair. “Ooh, so scary Potter.” Harry laughed with him, “How’s Aunt Petunia behaving now? Is she OK yet with our friendship?”

“She still isn’t chuffed, but considering I’m still alive, I think she’s warming up to the idea.”

“That’s a relief… I have some things to give you, and I don’t think she would take kindly to me giving it directly.”

He frowned, “What things?”

Harry pulled out three watches, two distinctly masculine, and the third feminine. “If you can get your parents to wear these, they might save their lives… there’s one for you too.”

“But what are these?”

“Magical shields and Portkeys. Teleportation devices, in a way. They’re password protected, so unless you speak the correct password while holding the watch, they won’t work.”

“A password? And where do these teleport to? Like, what’s the destination?”

Harry grinned, “Potter Manor. They’ll take you all directly there. It’s the safest place I know… well, it will be once I have it fixed up.”

“You have a manor?”

“Sure do! The password is ‘The Stag’s Cradle’. Unless for some reason you’re obsessed with stags and cradles, I doubt you’d be saying that randomly.”

“Oh trust me, I won’t say it suddenly… but how do I tell my parents?”

“Nothing but the truth. You gotta spill it upfront. I don’t envy your job.”

“Yeah Potter, fob it off to me… anyway, how rich are you?”

Harry smirked, “The manor in Wales, a cottage in France, and a tulip farm in Holland. Plus several magical patents and a few stocks in muggle companies. I am loaded.”

Dudley whistled in awe, “Blimey Potter, that certainly is loaded.”

“Combine that with the approximate exchange rate for galleons to pounds… after all the conversions, my value in cold, hard coins is about 10 million. Add all my artefacts and furniture in my houses, you get 20 million. Add in my stocks and patents and all that, you get 25 million, overall. And it’s increasing daily.”

Dudley groaned and banged his head on a wall, “I am living with a bloody millionaire. A bloody friggin millionaire… you’re paying for my wedding. No question.”

“First get a girlfriend.” Harry said. When Dudley blushed and fidgeted, he laughed, “Oh my god, you do have a girlfriend!”

“Well, I learnt that life isn’t all about fists… and she isn’t really my first girlfriend.”

“Nah, she’s your first true girlfriend. You’ve never spoken about your past girlfriends with this much fondness. You’re maturing. You’re finally realising people exist…”

“I just wish I had learnt that earlier… I’d have more real friends…”

“Better late than never I guess.”

He nodded and then perked up, “Dad got me new games, wanna play?”

“Sure!”

Harry dropped his things and went with Dudley, finally acting like the teenager he was, his mission no longer hanging over his head. At least for a while.

An hour later, he came back to sleep. He smirked when he heard a faint rustle outside the window, and went to sleep.

***

As the fog set in the early dusk, a green-eyed kid rose. Said kid put his registered wand in his pocket, and his unregistered one in his invisible holster, strapped to his arm.

He knew that if Moody were here, he would see all his gizmos with ease. But he also knew that Moody was no snitch, and he would approve of any tactics he used against Voldemort, legal or illegal.

He expected questions, but no fuss.

He set out for a jog in the cool air. Nearing the park, he nodded amiably to the passing walkers and residents. Feeling a chill setting in, he jogged faster, trying to sweat. But even though he had his jacket on and was jogging as fast as he could, the cold crept into his bones.

Realisation hit him like a truck.

“FUCK! Fuck fuckity fuck!” Harry pulled out his unregistered wand and ran to a secluded spot with a clear view of the skies.

“Where’s the bloody Order when you need them?” he muttered, keeping his wand poised at the targets.

Two swirling masses.

Two dementors.

“Of all the things… EXPECTO PATRO…”

Suddenly, a glowing, ethereal wolf leaped from a bush and flew towards the dementors, which fled in haste.

“HARRY! You alright?” a voice called out. That voice whipped off his invisibility cloak.

“Remus! Oh, thank god you were here…”

“Of course I was, pup!”

“Wait… why though? Why are you here?” Harry said, feigning ignorance.

“It’s best if Albus told you himself…”

“Dumbledore? What? Where are the others? I knew I was right about you all being in the same place…”

“Yes, you were. This dementor attack changes things. You’re coming with me. Today.”

“Really? I’ll get packed up… want to come with?”

“Lead the way.”

They jogged to #4, and while Remus waited outside, Harry rushed in and started packing his MI6 suitcase, hiding all the MI6 equipment in a secret expanded chamber, and packing his clothes in the normal part. He grabbed Hedwig’s case and pulled on his backpack.

“Remus! Come on in, help me out!”

Amidst Petunia’s yells and a short scuffle downstairs, Dudley poked his head in, “Uhh, Harry, who is that guy?”

“One of my dad’s friends… pretty cool guy.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, right now. You wouldn’t know, but there was an attack on me a while ago, and he decided that it was not in my best interest to stay here anymore.”

“You weren’t kidding about the danger.”

“It’s hard to kid when the government and terrorists are both against you. Keep the portkeys ready. They may end up saving your lives.”

Just then, Remus came up behind Dudley, “Ready Harry?”

“Yeah, all ready… take Hedwig’s cage please… how will we get there? The Knight Bus?”

“No, I’m apparating you there. Giddy up pup, let’s get going.”

“Bye Harry!”

“Cheerio Dud!”

“You seem pretty close to him now.” Remus said, walking down.

“Yeah… he apologized, so I’ve forgiven him. We’re actually behaving like brothers now, and I like the change.”

“That really is good… I’m sorry Harry, for not once contacting you. When Albus sent for me the moment he got your letter. I was in Bosnia before that, trying to get some werewolves aligned to us.”

“You’re here now Remus, that’s enough for me…”

“It really doesn’t erase what I did… I left you when I shouldn’t have. Again.”

“Moony, shut up. You’re here now, and I am happy. So buck up, and let’s get going.”

“Alright Prongslet… Hold on tight… this will feel weird.” He chuckled, holding the cage tight.

Immediately, Harry felt like he was being sucked through a rubber tube of minuscule proportions.

He actually had no idea what being sucked through a rubber tube of minuscule proportions felt like, but to him, it felt like the most appropriate comparison. But I digress.

In mere seconds, he landed in a small, secluded corner of a park, apparently surrounded by old apartment buildings.

Even though Harry had enough experience with apparition with the ‘Team’, the queasiness never passed.

“You seem to be taking this better than expected…”

“I still feel like my brain is in a thresher.”

Remus laughed, “Follow me. Dumbledore should arrive in some time.”

“How long?”

“Few seconds at best. I sent a patronus from your house, explaining what happened.”

A pop was heard from an adjacent bush, and a wizened old man with an impressive beard walked out.

“Ah Harry! It’s nice to see you again! Sprightly as ever.” Dumbledore chuckled, patting his shoulder.

“Very nearly wasn’t…” he groused.

“That’s fair my boy, I apologise for that. But it was essential to your safety.”

Harry put on a convincing, saccharine smile, “Of course Headmaster, I trust you… I am thankful you let me come here.”

Suitably deceived, Dumbledore laughed, “It’s no bother Harry… now come in.”

“Where sir?” Harry could see the building clearly, having already heard the secret. Yet he faked it to sell his lies.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget.” Dumbledore rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a slip of paper, “read this Harry.”

“Number 13 Grimmauld Place? Oh my god!” Harry faked his surprise.

“The Black Family’s ancestral house. Follow me.”

“Tha… that house wasn’t there before…”

“I used the Fidelius Charm to keep it hidden, so that unwanted visitors could not see it. I am the secret keeper this time. You can trust me to not give you up.”

To Harry, all it meant was ‘I control your life, where you go, when you go’.

“As I said, Headmaster, I trust you.”

Dumbledore positively gleamed at those words. His smile and eyes turned calculating momentarily, invisible to the commoner, yet clear as day to Harry’s trained eye.

“Let’s enter, shall we?”

Dumbledore opened the door to reveal a cacophony, a mess of people hurrying about. Moody stood talking to a woman, Molly walked around with plates, Sirius laughed with a tall black man…

And Hermione. Hermione was cuddled up with Ron.

If not for Harry’s rock-solid Occlumency, he would’ve let out a pitiful groan of sadness.

But his mental shields were impeccable. And he threw his emotions behind the wall, plastering on a fake, Oscar-worthy grin.

Suddenly, Moody noticed him, and everyone stopped moving. Molly let out a cross between a shriek and a laugh. Sirius boomed out, “HARRY!”. The other man grinned and bowed respectfully. The woman yelped in surprise and left to join the man. The duo left the others behind to join Dumbledore.

And Ron and Hermione?

They stood up with a smile.

That’s all. A smile.

Where earlier they would glomp him in a hug. Mainly Hermione.

He stuffed his simmering anger and sadness behind his shields and grinned wider. And it worked marvellously. Sirius grinned back rakishly and enveloped him in a tight hug, followed by Molly. Over her shoulder, he made eye contact with Moody, who mouthed, ‘we will have to talk’. Harry nodded imperceptibly in response.

Then Ron came to hug him, Hermione still keeping her distance. When Ron left the hug, she sidled closer to him. Harry’s heart dropped further.

He gave a forced, hollow, yet convincing smirk. “You two are together, I see?”

Before they could answer, Molly jumped in, “They’re so sweet, so good for each other… they remind me of you and Ginny.”

So we’re gonna play it that way, are we? Harry thought.

“Oh Harry, she’s been such a good influence on Ronny… and he’s definitely loosening her up too!”

Harry didn’t miss Ron’s lecherous smirk at that statement. Harry masked his grimace with a question, “Mrs Weasley, of course they are good for each other… tell me guys, how did you two get together?”

Hermione’s smile faltered for a second, and Harry frowned.

“Well, I was doing my homework, then I drank some water and started thinking… and I realised I loved Ron a lot…”

Her words sent daggers through his heart, yet he kept going, seemingly unfazed, “Congratulations then, you two!”

Ron looked alarmed for a millisecond, and Molly started fidgeting when Hermione mentioned water. Harry did not miss that.

Love potions. Definitely love potions, he thought.

“That’s excellent!” Harry fake-laughed, “That said, where’s Ginny? The twins?”

When Harry mentioned Ginny, Molly stopped fidgeting and gave a triumphant smile, “She’s upstairs, Harry, probably cleaning up. She’ll be down soon, all dressed up for you.”

Harry smiled sweetly in response. Hook, line, and sinker. Just gotta hold off Ginny long enough to dissuade her… and also get the potions out of Hermione… and I know exactly how.

“So, Harry, you’ll be shacking up with Ron for now, the other rooms still need cleaning. So, yeah, get to your room, get cleaned up, and come back down for supper.” Sirius said.

“Excellent! I’ve eaten everything that you sent, Mrs Weasley, but I am still famished.”

“Of course Harry! Clean up, I’ll set out the plates.”

“Come on Ron, let’s go up…”

Ron grinned and led him upstairs, Hermione trailing behind quietly. Harry grinned in response, but his brain was trying to invent new methods of torture.

“So, how did it happen?” He asked.

“How did what happen?” Ron looked bewildered.

“The kiss! How’d you get together?” The most important thing in espionage was intel. Sita had drilled it into him. Never swing unless you know exactly how to, when to, where to, and why to.

“As I said…”

“Wait up Hermione, let’s hear Ron out too.”

“Wha… what? Uhh… so… yeah, I was looking at a quidditch magazine… uhh… then she entered my room and sat down beside me and said she liked me…”

Hermione mildly frowned, but went along with Ron. His utter hesitation and Hermione’s non-interference made Harry confident about what actually happened.

Hermione was drugged up and subservient.

And therefore, Ron would suffer at his hands.

Harry secretly took out a bug from his pocket and placed it on Ron’s neck while patting his back and congratulating him. The bug merged with his skin, taking on its colour

“Say, Ron, why don’t you go and get Ginny here?” At that, Ron perked up, thinking that the potions were working on Harry, too.

The moment he left the room, Harry whipped around and stunned Hermione, who was completely quiet the whole time.

As she fell, he grabbed her and placed her on the bed.

“Sorry for that Hermione, but this is a must…” he cast a detection spell on her.

Compulsion Charms, Potions

“Compulsion charms? Shit, that’s way beyond me…” he quickly obliviated her of the last few minutes and revived her on the bed.

“Hey there Hermione, you were slightly dizzy, are you OK now?”

“I… I… I’m O… okay,” she said, her voice wavering and stuttering.

Right then, Ginny and Ron burst in. Harry’s head was bombarded with a constant influx of love potion warnings from his ring. He grinned through the throbbing clamour and hugged Ginny tightly, pretending to be under the influence of the love potions.

She reeked of amortentia (here I mean amortentia with the recipient specified to the potion). He tried not to gag, but the potions were slowly working on him. He jerkily pulled himself off her and smiled winningly.

“Hiya Ginny! You’re looking beautiful today!” he tried to flirt.

She blushed prettily… Fuck, what am I thinking? he reprimanded himself, remembering the potions

“Y… You look good too”, she gulped

As Harry’s smile wavered, he quickly figured out an escape, “Hey Gin, I need to wash up… I’ll come down soon, so why don’t you go down with Ron and Hermione?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron’s triumphant grin.

He hid his anger. Soon enough, Ron, I’ll see you destroyed, he thought. His eyes drifted to Ginny again, but he pulled himself together and rushed into the bathroom.

Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief, the heady presence in his mind dissipating. He splashed water in his face and filled up the tub.

Which also smelled of amortentia.

“Is there anything they didn’t lace with this shit?” he grumbled, turning on the shower and washing up in the, thankfully, untainted, warm water.

An hour later, a figure emerged from the steaming vapours of the bathroom.

“Dobby!”

Dobby popped into the room and was immediately accosted by an old, wrinkled elf who appeared out of nowhere.

“INTRUDER NOT ALLOWED IN BLACK HOUSE! OUT TRAITOR!”

“Who are you?”

“I am Kreacher, Black Family elf,” he muttered, still punching Dobby ineffectively. Harry pulled the bag of wrinkles off him.

“I called Dobby here, and you will not harm him.”

“Put! Down! Kreacher! Dobby! Is! AN! INTRUDER!” he gasped out, struggling against Harry.

“The master of the house trusts me, and I trust Dobby. Indirectly, the master trusts Dobby!”

“Still! An! Intruder!”

“He’s here to help me against the Weasleys.”

That stalled Kreacher, “Outcast elf will work against blood traitor Weasels? He… he is allowed… I will keep watch on him.”

“You do that. Tell me, Kreacher, does anyone put potions in the food here?”

He nodded eagerly, “Blood traitor redhead mother puts potion in mudblood’s and redhead girl’s food.”

“Ginny?”

He nodded again, seemingly unfazed by Dobby’s glare, “Yes, blood traitor Ginny girl is potioned by mother.”

“Fuck… can you tell me which potion they used?”

“Don’t know mudblood lover scum…”

“Dobby, can you mute him whenever he starts insulting people?”

“No! Krea…”

“Done Master Harry!” Dobby chirped, gleefully watching a silent Kreacher gesticulate wildly.

Harry sighed, “Alright Dobby… when she serves us food, can you have it swapped for the same food, but untainted? Kreacher, can you make sure other edibles like water and such, being served, are potion free?”

Kreacher nodded, still staring daggers at Dobby.

“Dobby, just unmute him… he’s getting pissed.”

Reluctantly, Dobby snapped his fingers, and Kreacher leapt on him, snarling

“Kreacher! If you don’t want me to order Dobby to silence you again, behave. And don’t insult people needlessly… though I think you can continue insulting Dumbledore and the Weasleys…”

Kreacher frowned, and then nodded, considering the offer, “Your wish is my command… mister… Potter.”

“Good… now, Dobby, I’m going down, so have the food changed by the time I get there.”

Dobby saluted and popped away.

Now much more confident, Harry smirked and made his way downstairs.

“OH, Harry! Come here, there’s a place beside Ginny, come on…”, Molly nearly shouted. Sirius looked annoyed by her almost forceful persuasion.

“Of course, Mrs Weasley! Hey Gin…” he replied, slipping in beside Ginny.

“H… hey Harry… how was your vacation?” she asked, her hand on his thigh.

Harry was pretty uncomfortable at that. He jerkily adjusted his position to keep her hand away. He felt a wave of anger when he saw Ron try and do the same with Hermione, and while she was equally uncomfortable, the potion’s influence didn’t let her move. He tamped the anger down behind his Occlumency and began eating his, admittedly tasty, shepherd’s pie.

Which, hopefully, Dobby had swapped.

“It’s great Mrs Weasley!”

“Oh, you’re too kind Harry… let me get you another piece…”

“Oh, Mrs Weasley, I don’t…”

“Nonsense Harry! You’re a growing boy!”

Fuck fuck fuck, Harry swore mentally, Dobby, do fucking something…

Harry was already using most of his Occlumency against Ginny’s Amortentia perfume. More potions would overpower his shields.

He put on a smile again when she strode back in with another piece.

And just then she tripped.

And the pie went flying.

Straight into the ground.

“Mrs Weasley! Are you OK? What happened?” Harry rushed from his seat, along with the others.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dobby smugly grinning. Harry had to stifle his own grin as he helped Molly to her feet.

“Hmm… your wrist and foot are badly sprained… I think a short visit to St Mungo’s is in order. They’ll fix you up better than anyone here can.” Sirius said, helping her get to a soft couch.

Moody glared down, leaning on his staff, “Harden up Molly! This is a war, and soon we won’t be able to get all these luxuries!”, he barked out.

“Shut up, Mad-eye. Just because we might end up in a war doesn’t mean I’ll simply give up small luxuries.” She yelled back.

“Relax people, relax. I’ll call the twins here. They’re mature enough to take you to the hospital.”

“They couldn’t be mature to save their own lives.”

“You may be their mother, yet you misunderstand them so much. Being a prankster also means being responsible. The fact that they only target wrongdoers, and their collateral is minimal, shows that they take care in executing their pranks.”

“That’s not a job Sirius!”

“What about Zonko’s?”

“That… that was a fluke…”

“What about the fact that your sons sell 500 galleons of their items every year in Hogwarts?”

She glared at him, now at a loss for words. Using the chaos as a distraction, Ron pulled Hermione away, almost dragging her, his hand clenching her wrist so tightly that she was bruising.

Harry glared at them before looking at Ginny, who was leaning forward and trying to emphasize her… assets.

Moody discreetly tapped Harry’s shoe with his staff. Harry nodded, not looking at him.

“Mrs Weasley… I’ll get back to my room and set it up… you get well soon.”

“It’s no bother, you sweet boy, I’ll be fit as a fiddle soon. Ginny, help him!”

Harry sputtered out an excuse, “Uhh, Mrs Weasley… I think I’ll be changing too… so I’d rather she not come with me.”

“Oh Harry, I promise I won’t look.” She batted her eyelashes.

“Ginny, leave him for now… help your mother clean up!” Molly declared, limping as she got up and walked towards the kitchen. Ginny left Harry’s side with a forlorn look.

Harry shuddered and began walking upstairs, waving to Sirius as he ascended the stairs.

“This is gonna be a hell of a confession”, Harry muttered, “Where’s Moody?” he wondered.

With a shrug, he opened the door to his room.

And then he couldn’t move and fell face-first, hitting the stone floor with a pained yelp.

And then suddenly, complete darkness.

A/N

3:30 AM. It’s bloody 3:30 AM.

AND I HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW!

AN EXAM THE DAY AFTER!

ANOTHER EXAM IN 4 DAYS!

WAAAAAAAAAAA

KILL ME!!!

Nah, don’t. Imma survive.

Anyway. We are done with Grade 12 syllabus.

Which means we’re gonna rehash grade 11 syllabus in the next 3 months, and again 12^th syllabus for another month after that.

JEE draws nearer. Day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Second by second.

SO! Yeah, expect the next upload in like a month and a half, maybe more.

With that, Perseus bids thee adieu!

Cheerio!

Perseus, over and out!