Letting Time Pass

At first, the changes to Pooka were small, straightening her back, making her ears less floppy and pointed, and giving her bright red eyes much like his own when he channeled the blood. He had never fully transformed someone so it was interesting, he noticed she was getting taller as well. Evident when she sobbed about not being able to fit properly into the little clothes she allowed herself to wear.

Simple fixes were adjustment charms, even then fabric could only be stretched so far with magic before she could require more but that was fine. He was not exactly 'strapped' for cash, even if the wizarding money ran out eventually, he had a nice... 'Cushion' of 'muggle' money he could use.

He had also begun to show the Muggle world to Pooka, enjoying how she reacted to everything going on, the thing she enjoyed most being bicycles. She loved how the road so when he had gifted her a child-size one, she had cried so hard she passed out while holding it.

He had six months until his 'letter' to Hogwarts should arrive, once someone was eighteen, no matter what. The letter would appear where they stayed and continue to appear until they responded to it.

It would be around the start of the summer for when they were eighteen if the summer had passed, they wouldn't get an invite until next year. A stupid system, but many of the wizarding laws were similar.

Actually a large portion of things Wizards did was amusing at best.

Quiddich did seem fun however, but it was also due to his own blood, the blood that made him a Potter. Playing the game was in his blood and he was good at it, even without relying on his vampiric abilities.

He could fly given time with his abilities to be a vampire or even magic alone. But brooms were an easy alternative, and they allowed more comfortable travel, along with the enchantments you could place on a broom, you could make it much fast than normal fight. As long as it held up that is.

Sitting in his library once more, he rubbed at his chin. He had finished all the books in the library, and he's ordered all previous years of Hogwarts books along with other books, including some expensive 'darker' books.

One that interested him was Occulumency, the art of protecting the mind, just as there was Legilimency, the art of attacking the mind. His abilities as a vampire naturally gave him advantages to these things, but he might be able to increase his skills further with the magic, something he's come to find out more and more.

His blood-related abilities could be influenced by his magical, and the opposite was also true.

Influenced by either changing their effects, their strengths or even manipulating how far they could go. So he had made it a goal, the only one goal he really had currently.

To master what he could with magic, and given that he would live forever as long as he was smart... He would master it all.

His physical body had reached its peak, a perfect supernatural mix of speed and power, explosive strength, and muscle stamina. Not something he could obtain purely through training, most of it came from very, very meticulous control of his body, reshaping his muscle, tendons, and even the shape of some of his bones.

Dark hair the flowed freely like a sea of darkness frames his strong, handsome features. Standing at an even 6' 2''. Allowing him the best height to deliver the power he wanted, while allowing him to look down on most in the world as it was.

Staring out the window of the library for a bit, staring at the rolling greenery and forest that now surrounded the estate, better hiding it in its own place of calm serenity.

Turning he pulled a paper from the table, the Quibbler. An amusing paper that offered the same facts as the Daily Prophet without the bigotry, lies, or false truths. While even adding neat facts, amusing jokes, and quite a number of hidden meanings.

He was reading older issues, as what way to learn the raw truth, than a small place like the Quibbler?

It was as he was reading through it at a more, normal casual pace that he came across something that interested him.

The name 'Sirius Black', a name tied to his past.

How he was imprisoned within Azkaban, the Wizarding Prison guarded by Dementors, terrible death-like creatures.

... This was strange.

Harry had read previous records already, but there were no mentions of a case, or a court hearing. Just Imprisonment.

This wasn't right, even the worst Death Eaters like Bellatrix Black got a trial, even if they were clearly in the wrong.

Standing he waved his wand across himself, cleaning himself from head to toe easily as he began to walk.

Casting a sound suppressant charm on himself, and a powerful muggle warding charm he directly apparated across the street from one of the entrances to the Ministry of Magic. Entering the phone booth he picked up the one and waited.

''Purpose?'' A voice called over the phone.

''Public records office, I've got a broom parking ticket to handle.'' Harry answered without hesitation, controlling his voice and heart to make it seem he was telling the truth, and that he sounded annoyed.

There were a few moments of silence before the line clicked. Placing the phone back onto the rungs. The floor beneath him suddenly lowered until he was in an elevator, and after he stepped off, it raised back up.

Steadying his stance, the elevator suddenly jerked as it rocketed off, he wasn't lying when he said he was visiting the public records.

Cracking his neck, his hair shifted a bit, having it cover some of his forehead as his old lightning bolt scar appeared on his forehead. Afterall

Harry Potter has a 'Lightning Bolt scar, that would never heal. Marking his victory of the worlds greatest dark lord!'

He chuckled at that little joke to himself before the elevator came to a stop, making his eyes have that alluring emerald gaze, the same eyes his mother had. He stepped out into the hallway, following the signs to the Public Records office until he was standing in front of a desk.

A tired looking man was behind the counter, scratching away at quill and paper, while multiple other quill's were magically writing around him as well.

''Name and reason for you being here?'' The man asked with a sigh.

''Harry Potter, here for the Records of Sirius' Black trial.'' Harry stated without a moment of thought, having to suppress the grin as the man looked up for a moment.

Due to him sitting down, he was able to see the bolt scar, the eyes, the hair, and everything that Harry Potter was known to have, and he practically stopped.

The man's mind came to a grinding halt as he stared upon THE Harry Potter, no one was stupid enough to pretend to be him after all.. Right?

Harry raised a brow before he spoke clearly. ''Records?''

''Oh... Y-Yea, Uh...'' The man turned away, robotically searching through his file cabinet as he went to the B's and began to search for Sirius' file.

Only for his brows to shift a bit, knitting in confusion as he couldn't find it. Only for his eyes to fog gently, before he turned away back to Harry with a smile, like a recorded movement.

''We're sorry, but the Sirius Black files are currently under review, I do not have them here.''

Harry nodded a bit before his eyes flashed blue briefly as he took ahold of the mans tired and weak mind.

He searched quickly for the memory of the past few seconds, when he had thought the words 'Sirius Black' he had felt a sudden compulsion to follow a recorded action.

Harry looked over the man and his workstation before he focused on the coffee cup, it smelt magical.

More than just a special kick in the coffee, reaching over it he knicked his finger a bit, letting a single drop of his blood enter the coffee before he pulled back.

Releasing the man's mind, with him none the wiser Harry smiled. ''Alright, please send an owl to me when those records are released again, after all. I want to know more about the man who helped slaughter my parents.''

With that Harry simply turned away, uncaring for the absolute chaos his brief visit would cause.

(End)

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