6 HD-5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.
This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.
Also while I do have a Pat-reon account, it is completely open for the public, with no paywall for any post on it.
AGAIN, EVERY POST ON MY PAT-REON IS OPEN FOR PUBLIC VIEW!!!
Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.
—
UU Two: Yup, the Dr Strange What If Episode did inspire this. But I didn't want Harry becoming inherently Demonic, or anything. Doom is proud, he won't like to depend on someone else's magic when he has it inside his own body.
Scyfly: I've read many fics where a young Harry becomes a Sorcerer or something, and no offense to them at all, I enjoy them. But how I see Sorcery is they take Magic from the Universe and other Dimensions, that has to be more dangerous for a child's body than the normal Magic. And Doom knows that, so no Sorcery. He thinks that Astral Projection is a Sorcery technique so he won't even try it. As for telepathy, he was 4 in that scene, telekinesis is enough, don't you think?
Negating the threat was wrong of me to write. He wants to make sure she is not a threat to him, either convince her that he is not a danger to the Magical World, or get rid of her if she proves to not believe him. He likes Yao, sure, but he doesn't know this Ancient One. For all he knows, this one could be evil.
Something common: I haven't decided on a pairing yet, and I probably won't until Harry is like 20. But knowing Doom's pride, it either won't happen, or it will happen with someone who can keep up with him in intelligence, at least.
Also, no Reed Richards, because I want my MC to be the smartest. Mwahahahaha!!!
—
Petunia Dursley had had a wonderful life, except for maybe the three years that she had had to care for her freak of a nephew. Thankfully, the freak turned out to be even more of a freak, and convinced - or threatened - them into leaving him alone.
At first she was angry at him, for daring to just.. take what was her Dudley's. But after a few months, she realized something. They were actually saving money when the boy was left alone. He happily accepted the clothes she dropped off at the end of the hallway, without complaints. He never disturbed them unless absolutely necessary, like when he had somehow managed to stab his own palm with broken glass at the age of 5, or similar injuries that he rarely revealed to them.
Sure, he ate from their pantry, but he rarely ever cooked more than he needed for himself. Best of all, they didn't even see, or hear him cooking!
Their lives were completely stress free, from the moment that he had disappeared into that room of his. Without him in her life, she was also far less angry than she used to be!!
Her stress lines had just disappeared!
Even Vernon was happier, with the boy almost completely out of their lives. Sure, there were issues, particularly with her loving son Dudley regressing to his old behavior with the boy every once in a while. But she was quick to correct him, asking to just ignore the boy altogether.
Except for the time they had to take him to school with Dudley for their admissions, together otherwise it would have called unwanted attention to them, Petunia had seen him barely once a month, and that's if they were unlucky.
Which is why no one could begrudge her for jumping in her own skin a little, when she saw the boy sitting in her kitchen at 6 in the Morning.
"Aunt Petunia." The boy greeted, as if it was completely normal for them to greet each other like this.
Petunia immediately had a frown on her face, some displeasure showing, as she asks, "What do you want, boy?"
The boy raises an eyebrow, and says, "Straight to the point, very well. I need to know where I can find the other Wizards."
Petunia scoffs, and as she moves to the kitchen to begin her day with a cuppa tea, she says, "What makes you think I would know it? As my sister liked to remind me, I wasn't Magic like her. All these years of her death have not changed that."
"Do I look like someone who cares about your rough life as a simpleton, Aunt Petunia?" The boy says from behind her, his voice still in the same conversational tone, making her scowl in anger. After a scoff, he continues, "As for why I believe you know something.. you're far too nosy to not know, especially when the possibility of you learning Magic was thrown in the mix."
She snaps her head around, her eyes widened, and angrily asks, "Did you use your freakishness on me, boy? You promised you wouldn't!"
The boy looks at her, daring to look annoyed, and says, "I have no need of using my Magic to find out what you think in that pointy little head of yours. Your eyes tell me all I want to know. I saw the jealousy in you the first day I laid eyes on you."
"I-" she begins to deny her jealousy at her bitch of a sister, only to be cut off by the boy raising his hand and glaring at her.
He says, "We can make both our days worse by arguing about it, which I will end by taking the information I want out of your head, or you can just tell me what I want to know and I will leave your.. presence."
Petunia huffs at the threats, believing them completely, but not wanting to have him in her kitchen anymore, she says, "I don't know much about them. I know that the school that you're supposed to go to is somewhere in Scotland, that the train that will take you to the school leaves from King's Cross. And I know that she went to London to shop for her things. Somewhere around Charing Cross Road."
She knew it because her parents had taken her with Lily and that Professor from that school, for shopping, and they had parked the car on Charing Cross Road. But she had refused to go to that place for Lily's shopping, and so, had waited for them in a nearby cafe.
The boy sighs, and as he drops down the chair and starts walking out, he says, "I guess that'll have to do. Thank you for your help, Aunt Petunia."
When he finally leaves the room, Petunia can't help but let out a breath out of relief. He may have promised to not use his Freakishness on any of them, but the way he spoke, the way he behaved ever since he was a toddler, everything about the boy was far too odd for her to be comfortable with.
She just hoped that he didn't change his mind about leaving them alone once he found a place for himself to stay.
—
Appearing with a soft pop out of a wormhole of my own creation, I take a look around to see if anyone saw me. Just like the previous times that I had teleported around London, my good luck held true and no one saw this piece of Magic.
My eye moves towards the sign in front of me, which reads 'Charing Cross Station', as I turn left and start walking. I don't know what I'm looking for exactly, but I know from the vivid image that Petunia thought up for me, that the Evans family, my mother's family, had parked the car somewhere around… here.
I am a man of my word, and when I said I won't use my Magic on them, I meant it. But when I threatened Petunia earlier, she just thought back to the day so loudly, that I just couldn't help but see this memory. Completely accidentally, I assured myself.
The memory plays in my mind once again, and I see Petunia get out of the car with the family. But while my mother and her parents went left to meet with a woman in Green.. dress?.., Petunia stomped towards a cafe on the opposite side of the road after a short argument.
Picking left once again, since Petunia's memories don't tell me where they went after this, I close my eyes as I continue walking. The cloak I had claimed from Alastair did a pretty good job of keeping people from bumping into me.
It wasn't anything special, no, nothing like my old Cloak of Levitation that I'd worn for a grand total of 17 hours, almost half of which was spent infiltrating and fighting in Hell, while the other half was spent fighting Dormammu off of Earth.
No, the Cloak was not special per se. But.. It was worn by Alastair, the Grand Torturer of Hell, for thousands and thousands of years. He has tortured billions of souls while wearing this cloak. And that.. kind of leaves a mark, even on something like a normal cloth.
The Magic of Hell is deeply imbued within the cloak, which if I had left alone, would have brought Sorcerers right to me. But of course, I did not leave it alone. For someone like me, who can enchant a special metal to work as a Storage cell for the Magic of a Demon, getting rid of most of the Demonic taint from the Cloak was practically Child's play.
I purposefully left some of the taint in it, since it served wonderfully in moments like this. People feel nervous to be in the presence of this Cloak, and hence, in the presence of myself. And it serves me just fine, it's perfect even.
Not to forget that it's very comfortable, fitting snugly, and it will grow in size with me!
After about a minute of walking with no interruptions, I finally stop, and open my eyes.
Here.
There are traces of Magic here, in large quantities and very much recent. Surprisingly, the traces are almost identical to the traces of Magic I leave behind when I teleport from one place to another.
Well, I did assume that my Teleportation was something I got from being a Wizard, and not something I invented.
So the place was definitely somewhere close. I look around, observing each store on both sides of the street for signs of Magic. I sense it before I see it, however, a place that just reeked of Magic similar in its make to the Magic I have inside me.
There were differences. The Magic that I can feel is wilder, less.. controlled.
And when I finally see it, I can't help but blink, because it was definitely not what I expected to see. It was a bar, no confusion there. It was a dingy little bar, with a crooked banner above its door reading 'The Leaky Cauldron', nestled between a bookshop, and a shop that sells Records.
Now that I see it, however, I notice how no one else seems to even glance at it. Even those actively looking in that direction were just skipping the bar, and going straight from the bookshop to the record shop, or vice versa.
A smile automatically comes to my face, wondering if there are similarities to the barriers and Enchantments I used to keep the Demons captive, and these ones.
Shaking my head, I look on both sides of the road, and cross it to start the short walk to the bar. Before I enter it, however, I make sure to put my cap and glasses on, the cap being backwards.
As soon as I put the cap on, the colour of my hair changes from its usual black to a dull blonde colour, hanging behind my head in a ponytail, while the glasses on my nose portray an illusion of plain brown eyes for anyone to see.
From how Alastair had reacted as soon as he saw me, and how he was so surprised that I didn't know about the Boy-Who-Lived thing, it was very safe for me to assume that I might be well known in the Wizarding World.
Maybe they know the scar I sport on my head, maybe they know what colour my eyes are, or maybe both?
In any case, introducing myself or even showing up as myself, to the people in the Bar, will be nothing short of stupid.
So, with the illusions in place, I take a deep breath to get a sense of the people whose Magic calls out to me, and enter through the open door. Multiple heads turn to look my way at my entrance, but seeing just a kid, most of them turn away.
I approach the sole person who had kept staring at me, the barman, an old, bald man, with broken teeth that show when he finally smiles at me.
If I was a normal 9 year old child, and not.. me.. I would have been really freaked out by him.
"Ello there. What's a kid like ya doing out of school?" The barman says, sounding curious and at the same time a bit on guard.
Guess the cloak works on Wizards as well.
I look around at the many people enjoying a drink, or an early breakfast, and then at the back right corner of the room, where I had seen a couple walk, while a pair of women had walked out.
Turning back to the barman, I act a bit nervous, and say, "I.. I was told that I can buy my school supplies here, I am to start at Hogwarts next year."
The barman nods at that, and says, "Ah, a late birthday, ey? I was the same, got me letter in December, right before me 11th birthday. Leaves ya with a whole lotta time to read up, I tell ya. The name's Tom, I manage this inn here."
I just stare at him, wide eyed innocent child that I am, as he walks out of the bar, and towards the corner I had seen the people disappear off to, and says, "Come then, lad. I ain't got all day, ya know. The morning's just starting and people will be wanting to get their post-halloween shopping over with."
As I follow behind the man called Tom, staying vigilant despite the confidence I have about the location, I can't help but notice that he said Halloween, and not Samhein, which my mother used to call the holiday.
Tom stops in front of a wall, which also has traces of Magic especially concentrated at one spot a bit over my head, and brings an honest to God, Magic Wand out of his sleeve.
Seeing me stare at it, Tom chuckles and says, "You'll be getting your own wand soon, I believe. No store's better than Ollivander's, I tell ya. Now, watch this carefully, so you don't have to wait for someone else to do it for you. To get into the Diagon Alley, you take your wand, and just gently tap… here. Thrice."
Saying so, Tom taps the brick he had pointed out, which was coincidentally the same spot with a large concentration of Magic.
The spot gives off a small, almost unnoticeable pulse of Magic, which causes the wall to fold in on its bricks, opening up into, as he said, an Alley. And it was beautiful. This was not my first foray into a World of Magic, but by Gods, nothing in Kamar Taj compares to what I'm seeing with my own two eyes, right now.
And it was just somewhere they shopped? What does their place of learning look like then? What about their Homes?
Everywhere my head turns, I can see one example or the other of some Magic. Moving pictures posted on walls, airplanes and birds made out of paper just flying everywhere, and something that makes me pause.
"Flying brooms? Seriously?" I can't help but mumble to myself, a bit amused.
Something lands on my shoulder then, and I barely refrain from lashing out with a Magic blast when I remember that it's just Tom, who takes a step back out of nervousness, and says, "You sure you'll be okay from here? Ya know what you have to do?"
Guess the Cloak reacted to my intention of wanting to harm the one who touched me. It had remained pretty docile in this Magical world, which was understandable. I did not even sense its Darkness when I took it from Alastair, so I suppose our Magic is a bit resistant to its effects. But my anger at Tom did cause it to flare up, so that's good.
I smile at him, and sending a sense of reassurance into his brain, I say, "Of course. I'll be okay. Thank you, Mr Tom!"
Tom nods, smiling at me, and says, "Well, I'll be off then. Good luck lad."
And then he walks back to his bar while shaking his head, leaving me alone. Shaking my own head, I step through the gateway that had formed when the bricks had separated, and start walking through the market, the brick wall immediately closing up behind me.
The first thing I do, before even looking inside any of the shops, is take a deep breath with a large smile on my face.
"Magic." I whisper to myself, having felt it since the moment I got close to the Leaky Cauldron. But here, inside the barriers of what separates the Magical world from the non-magical, I can feel it even more clearly.
Magic was everywhere. In the air, underground, in the people, in the houses, and hell, even the rocks that made up the road. Magic was calling out to me, and I accept the call with open arms.
This.. this was beautiful. I can see why my mother would leave her old, normal life behind. Or maybe it was just my aunt's beautiful personality that convinced her to do so.
Coming out of the pseudo trance, I open my eyes and now really look at the Market that Tom called Diagon Alley.
It wasn't busy yet, as Tom had said, but the shopkeepers were all in their stores. A Cauldron store had the words, "Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring-- Collapsible," flashing on a sign outside of it, while the broom store had a few brooms circling around one another like a merry-go-round.
There was an Apothecary on one side of the cobblestone road, while right opposite it stood the Vials and Phials shop.
I couldn't help but notice how this market proved literally every myth about Witches true. Potions, Flying brooms, Cauldrons, and hell, even Wands! Speaking of Wands, there's the wand shop Tom had spoken of, Ollivander's, which had apparently been in business since 382 BC.
I ignore it for now, since, first of all, I am not here to actually shop, nor will I be buying a Wand anytime soon. I'm here for information. So, I just keep my ears open and walk all over the alley.
"... didn't see much, did we? Too many people crowding up the Potter home, to be honest." I hear a man's voice say from the cafe to my left not even 10 seconds after I've begun my walk through the Alley. And it immediately catches my attention.
I enter the cafe and listen to the man talk to his friend, while browsing the menu.
"Well, yeah, what'd you expect? That you'll be the only tosser to turn up at Godric's Hollow on Halloween of all things?" His friend, another man says with a chuckle.
Halloween. Was this when my parents died to this Tom Riddle? I might have perfect memory but it only came to me when I woke up at the Dursleys which was.. on November 2nd?
The first man drops his head, sighs and says, "Well.. yeah. But there were loads of people there, Wizards I mean. The muggle children were also crowding the streets, annoying little shits. We didn't even get close to the Gates, let alone try and go inside."
Godric's Hollow.
Potter House.
My Parents.. had a house.. in which they lost their lives.
As the two men start talking about something else, I turn back the way I came and start walking towards the Bookstore that I had noticed before getting sidetracked by the mention of my last name.
I enter the shop, Flourish and Blotts, and immediately walk up to the Clerk manning the counter, who was reading a book. Looking around in curiosity, I ask, "Where can I find the books about.. the Boy-Who-Lived?"
The title leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but I don't let it show on my face.
The bored clerk simply points his finger in one direction, and says, "In the Fantasy section, first shelf that you see. The Harry Potter collection is kept there."
Fantasy.
My eye twitch, as I make a point to visit that too, but I grit out, "I mean.. the books that detail what happened to him and his family. About his parents' death?"
The clerk points to another section, looking at me like I'm dumb, and says, "The History section then. It's somewhere on the shelf clearly marked 'Recent Events'."
Shaking my head, I walk towards the History section, annoyed at having to behave like a child. It takes me barely a few seconds to find the shelf he had pointed out, and then I pick out an around 100 page book titled 'Modern Magical History' and start reading the index.
I find my own name, or the title that I detest, really, somewhere at the bottom of the index page, and flip to page 73.
"Harry James Potter, born 31st of July, 1980, is the only son of James Potter, and his wife Lily. As told in the 'Blood Supremacy War of the 20th century', He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to the Potter House in Godric's Hollow, and killed both the elder Potters with the Killing Curse before.."
And then the page blanked out. So did every other page, in fact. What was it, 30 seconds since I opened up the index page?
I scoff, not needing to be a genius to realize that there was a spell on the book to stop me from reading everything before I actually buy the book.
Should I try to break through it? It will be a fun challenge, to be sure.
Alas, I have very little knowledge about the way these Wizards use Magic, and until I know everything about their Magic use, I will refrain from.. bringing attention to myself.
Keeping that book in a basket conveniently sitting in a corner, I pick another book and go through its index as well.
I'm just glad they actually use an Index, even if they don't use any storage system as far as I can see.
At the end, I pick three books, titled 'Modern Magical History', 'Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century', and 'Wizarding Families of Great Britain'.
They all had either the Potter family name, my own name, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named inside the Index itself. Walking towards the Clerk with my bounty, I ask, "How much for each of them?"
The clerk looks up at the titles, and says, "27 Knuts for the thin one, 4 Sickles for the big one, and 2 Sickles and 13 Knuts for the middle one. So a total of.. 7 Sickles and 11 Knuts.
7.. Sickles.. and 11...Knuts…
Are you fucking kidding me? Who had the bright idea to convert 1 unit to 29 smaller units?
Sighing internally to calm myself, I ask, "How much is that in Pounds?"
"Nah, kid. Sorry, but we don't take muggle money. But Gringotts should be open by now, why not exchange your money there?"
Gringotts.. I've heard that word many times during my short stay here. I was wondering what that was, and I guess I'll get my answer.
Nodding, I hand him by basket full of three books, and say, "Keep that safe, I'll be back for them."
And then I walk out of Flourish and Blotts, and after asking the first person I see, I get to see for myself what exactly Gringotts is.
—
Barely ten minutes later, I walk out of the bank run by Goblins of all things, 200 Pounds lighter, but with a pouch of 37 Gold Galleons, 49 Silver Sickles, and 58 Bronze Knuts.
The conversation rates of the Currency was mind boggling, and I just hoped that that's what Gold, Silver, and Bronze is worth in this Wizarding World. But that's unlikely, considering I got a gold coin around 3 cm wide for just 5 British Pound Sterling. Odds are, it's just Gold plated or something, similar for the other coins.
After paying for the books, and a few more that I had the Clerk suggest for me in regards to the apparent War that my parents were a part of, I have some fish and chips at the Leaky Cauldron, along with the local favorite drink for adults and children alike, Butterbeer. It was sweet, and like all things in the Wizarding World, had a taste of Magic to it.
My work here done, for now, I go out to London, or as the Wizards call it, Muggle London, and teleport back to my room once I'm far enough. First, I'll learn all I can about my family, and then, I think I'll have to start learning how the Wizards use Magic.
—
Two days later, I find myself teleporting to a small hamlet in Cornwall, called the Godric's Hollow. My former home, in this life.
From what I had read in the 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', this village was named after one of the founders of the School my parents went to, who was born in this region. Surprisingly, however, despite this village being home to many Wizarding Families over the centuries, it was not solely Magical.
Plenty of normal, muggle families stayed here as well. Hell, in this day and age, the majority of the population here was non-magical, with just about 10 families calling this place home.
And my parents used to be one of them.
But despite that, I smile when I appear out of my wormhole, when I sense the Magic flowing through the very air in this land. Just like Diagon Alley. But the feeling was decidedly different.
From Diagon Alley I could clearly sense the intent of keeping non-magical people from finding it, unless specifically invited in. Godric's Hollow had no such enchantment.
Instead, the enchantments were very… vague. Keep Magic hidden? Confusion? Something like that, it will take me a while to even sense the intent behind the enchantments clearly, but I have not come here today for that.
My steps take me to the direction of where I know I will find it. The House that my parents died in.
I don't know what I'm hoping for here. I just.. as soon as I learned what had happened, and that they had died in their own home, I.. I've wanted to visit. Maybe I can finally pay my respects to my father, and my mother.
My father, who tried to fight against a superior enemy despite knowing he would lose. And my mother, who stood in front of my crib and took a spell meant for me. Both my parents gave their lives so I could live.
Paying my respects is the least I can do.
The first thing I see is that the house doesn't exist where it is supposed to, because of some sort of illusion the Ministry of Magic, which is a thing, had cast on it. So, the first thing I see is right in front of the empty plot at the end of the street, is a monument built to honour the sacrifices of the Second World War.
When I get closer, however, the monument changes into a statue, showing my parents standing side by side, smiles on their faces, with a baby in my mother's hands. Me. The statues were moving, like all artistic things in this Magical world do, but the movements were repetitive. Just a smile exchanged between the two, as they then turned to the baby Harry in their arms, and then smile again.
Knowing exactly what had happened now, even the details that Alastair had left behind, I cannot stop the tears that come out of my eyes when I see that sight.
Doom.. is stronger than this. Strong enough that such emotions don't bother him. Crying is for the week, I can just hear Doom say.
But Harry.. Harry is not that strong, emotionally. I have not faced the same hardships that Doom did, not in this life. My memories say otherwise, but my physical brain has not gone through the pain that Doom had gone through, that made him grow.. into Doom.
Wiping my eyes, I turn away from the statue and towards the empty plot of land that slowly reveals its contents to me. My parents house, my house.
The house was modest, two stories with possibly an attic up there once upon a time. It was certainly bigger than the Dursley home, from the outside, but I don't know if any room inside was expanded or not.
At least, the room on the right side of the first floor wasn't expanded. And why would I know that already? Because I can see inside it.
The entire top right corner had exploded, leaving a hole wide enough for me to easily fly in sideways if I could do that. Not that I can fly straight either, yet. That open space was probably where the Killing Curse had apparently backfired, reflected off of my baby self and onto the Dark Lord Tom Riddle.
The hedge surrounding the house had grown wild in these 8 years since their deaths, and taller as well. Guess no one took care of the house after their death. Nor did they bloody repair it.
I scoff then, and mumble to myself, "Instead they come to gape at the house where their Dark Lord whose name they don't even speak lost his life."
Shaking my head, I take a step forward and place my hand on the metallic gate that was still locked. As soon as I touch the gate, however, something happens.
Like a quickly growing weed, a sign had grown out of the ground itself, in the front yard. Made out of Wood, there were golden letters shining brightly saying, "On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."
"A monument?!" I hiss out, angry beyond belief. "They call leaving this house unrepaired a Monument to my parents' death?!"
And they dare claim something that belongs to me, belongs to DOOM as a monument?! They dare?!
Around the golden letterings I also make out signatures, names, and well wishes that people had left for me, but after reading those words this just seems to make me angrier.
With a snarl and a pulse of Magic, the metal gate slams open, the spells and enchantments keeping it locked destroyed by the sheer strength of my Magic. I wave my hand, causing the wooden sign to pluck itself out of the ground, and I throw it to the side, where it burrows itself underground again.
Anger somewhat abated, I take a few deep breaths, and walk towards the door, unhindered.
As soon as I touch the door, however, I get the distinct feel that the door was locked, as a barrier shows itself to my naked eyes momentarily. Even the hole on the first floor was covered by that barrier, I notice.
I blink, taken by surprise at the feel of the barrier. It was.. fluid. Far smoother than what I had done using my Magic and the Witchcraft runes. There were no runes used, as far as I can see, and the barrier was purely spell powered. But I have no doubts that as I am right now, I will not be able to break the barrier down.
Maybe in a few years I might be strong enough to do so, but right now, no.
Before I can even start becoming disappointed, however, I sense the barrier pulse, as it looks for something in my hand still touching the door handle. Still keeping my hand on the handle, I raise my left hand up and sense for the barrier with my palm. I pulse my own Magic to meet the barrier's, and get just one word in answer from it.
"Blood." I whisper, smirking a bit.
Of course.
Blood.
The blood of the family that lives here, I assume. The blood of the Potters.
Bringing one of my daggers out, I gently cut my thumb with nary a wince, and hold the handle again with the bleeding hand. The barrier pulses, and pulses once more.
Blood. Home. Welcome.
These are the feelings I get from the barrier, as the door lock clicks to an open, and then the door itself opens when I turn the handle.
Ingenious, and something I will no doubt use as soon as I learn how. But as my parents' death proves, the barrier is not invincible.
Tom Riddle still managed to get in, and kill my family before they could try to flee.
Shaking my head, I head on inside my parents' house, and stop when I feel it, my throat constricted through sheer emotion.
Death.
My parents' death.
I can feel it, as if it had happened just five minutes ago. Dark Magic has touched this house, and Time has not cured it completely. Two points has it the strongest, however. The first point is right in front of me, in the hallway that leads inside the house, and the second.. on the 1st floor, where my mother sacrificed herself for me.
I first walk to the spot where I now know the curse struck my dad, as Tom Riddle killed him, and place my hand on top of it.
It's.. hard.. not knowing what to say. What do you even say to the man whom you didn't even remember? I remember Werner, my father from my previous life. Was James just as loving as Werner?
Both died to save me. Werner gave himself up to the Baron so the Baron's men would leave the tribe alone. And James gave his life hoping to delay Tom till mother could escape, which alas, did not happen.
I.. I really need to see for myself, what exactly happened here. Just being here gives me clues to it, but it doesn't tell me enough about that night.
Shaking my head, I stand up, but not before conjuring a Lily flower and placing it on the spot.
"I may not be the son you would have wanted for yourself, far too many dark memories for that to be true. But I am the son you have, I am your son. And I thank you, Dad. For giving me this life, for trying to save my mother and I. I promise you, your death will be avenged. I will kill this Tom Riddle, this I vow."
I then walk inside the house, on the ground floor itself, and first get out into a room that had a window facing the front gate.
But when I enter the room, it just makes me angry once more. The room.. was empty. Completely empty, with just dust all around the room.
Taking deep breaths, I say to myself, "They probably moved it somewhere for safekeeping. I hope." Whether it actually reassured me is something even I can't say.
The next room is the kitchen, and even that proves to be just as empty as the previous room. There were two more rooms, and a bathroom on the ground floor, all empty, and so, I turn back and walk up the stairs to the first floor.
Once again, coming across empty rooms all around the first floor, I finally enter the room where it all ended for my mother. My nursery, and it was most definitely a nursery. This was the only room that it seems they had not emptied out completely.
My crib was still there, reeking of Dark Magic, as was the carpet underneath it. There was a cupboard in the back, but just by the glimpse I see through the open door I can tell that it has also been emptied. I take a few breaths to first calm myself, and then approach the spot where I know for sure that my mother had lost her life.
Right in front of the crib.
Right in front of me.
Kneeling down, I touch the spot on the carpet, and sigh.
"Mum." I whisper, somehow my heart becomes just a bit lighter. "I may not know you, or even remember you a bit. But.. I am proud to have you as my mother. The books.. they don't mention you too much, except for saying you died in front of my crib, but I understand. You.. you're the reason I even survived. You.. sacrificed yourself. You gave him your life, so he can spare mine. Thank you mother, thank you."
Conjuring a bunch of Hydrangeas, I lay them down on the ground, and stand up. I look around, and frown. I cannot leave this place like this. Least of all if I intend to reclaim this place one day.
Closing my eyes, I raise my hands to my sides. The Cloak starts flapping around, as my Magic flows out of me in droves, and moves in circles around me. The crib, the curtains, and the cupboard door, all rattle, as a wind of my own creation starts flowing around, forming into a tornado.
I keep putting Magic into the wind, and have it cover everything. From the crib, to the carpet. From the doors, to the windows. From the roof, to the Walls, and even the ground outside this house. I let my magic expand over the entire place, and let it seep deep into the property.
My Magic sticks to every surface, every nook and cranny inside the house, and grabs hold on to every piece of Magic still in here. And there are many of them.
Focusing on the Dark Magic that still remained after the murder of my parents, I grab at it with my Magic. And then, I call my Magic back towards me. My magic answers my call, and brings the Dark Magic with it, pulling every little speck of Magic inside the house to me.
I gladly welcome the magic flowing through the wind towards me, ignoring the rattling sounds happening inside the room, and let the Magic settle in an orb, over my right hand.
It's all over within a minute, prompting me to finally open my eyes. I smile in satisfaction, when I don't feel Dark Magic anywhere inside the house, except for the orb I now hold in my right hand.
It was a green orb, green being the colour that my Pure Magic tends to take in this life, and even in my previous life, with just two separate dark blotches on its surface. The Dark Magic left behind after my parents were murdered.
Frowning, I take my left hand and slowly touch the two blotches that represent my parents' deaths with two fingers. When I pull my fingers away from the orb, the dark blotches get pulled with them, now hanging off my fingers like a sticky, dark ink. As soon as the foreign Magic is separated from my own Pure Magic, it gets absorbed back into my body, giving me goosebumps.
As for the dark magic in question, I approach the broken walls, and flick my fingers towards it, sending the dark magic out of the house, and out of the barriers.
No longer in contact with any grounded Magic, it immediately dissipates into the wind, and flies away. Where, I no longer care.
I smile, however, when I turn back inside. When my Magic had touched the house, intimately, I'd felt something. I felt a lot of things. Pieces of Magic still left behind, that felt very familiar to the barrier that surrounds this house.
But other than that, there was something else, something very.. familiar.
Waving my hand, I make my crib float, and place it in the veranda. Another wave causes the carpet to start rolling up from the other end, and rolls to a close behind me. I ignore it, other than stepping over the roll when it passes me. My eyes stay on the spot on the uncarpeted floor, where my crib just was.
Runes.
Glowing Runes, of a language I am intimately familiar with, covering the entire room's floor. And how could I not be familiar with it, this language was the one I learned from Cynthia's books after all.
I take a moment to memorize the Runes, and then point my hand, destroying the Runes burnt into the ground. As I place the carpet and crib back in their place, I can't help but chuckle to myself, a tear involuntarily leaving my eye.
Of course.. Now I understand exactly what happened that day. How I survived, how I became the Boy-Who-Lived. My mother.. My mother was a genius. She learned how to do something that even Master Yao could not do.
Soul Magic.
My mother.. Lily Potter.. was a Witch who figured out the purest form of Soul Magic.
I just don't understand.. How did she learn this Language? Is it possible? Is it possible that just like how Harry was once Victor, that Lily was once Cynthia Von Doom? Or is it something else? I do not know. Another task for me to complete then.
Shaking my head, I approach the back wall, and bend down. Finger extended, I inject Magic into a spot that I had sensed before, when my Magic had tried entering it and failed, and smile when I see the spot light up with a golden light, but nothing else happens.
Pressing down on my thumb, I reopen the cut from before, and with the bleeding thumb, inject my Magic into the spot once again. This time, there's a soft, but clear click sound, as a rectangular spot on the wall separates out, showing an opening dug into the wall.
I put my hand inside it, and pull out a square box that was around the size of my entire forearm. The wooden box was plain looking, with nothing special about it. I grab the top of it with one hand, and gently pull it open, not knowing what to expect.
A notebook was definitely not it.
Opening the hardcover, I smile when I see the words written on the first page.
"Property of Lily Evans." In blue ink, and right underneath it in black ink it said, "now Potter."
My mother's journal.
I place it back inside the box, and put the box in my backpack, promising to read it soon. Getting up, I turn around to find what else was hidden around the house. I stop before I even take a single step, however, when I see that I am no longer alone in the house.
There was someone else, in my house.
I blink at the person in question, not in the least bit surprised, and say, "You're faster than I expected… Sorcerer Supreme."
The bald woman that currently holds said title just smiles down at me, and suddenly, the walls around us shatter like a mirror, as I am forcefully taken into the Mirror Realm.
Well, can't say I didn't expect this. But she is very much mistaken if she thinks I will go down without a fight.
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A/N: If you're an author, check out my Pat-reon page(open to all), and see if one of the Plot ideas catches your eye! Lmk if you take a story for yourself, so I can link it on my own sites!!
Tata!
