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Prodigy: Born Again | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 51 Summary: Some people think that Prodigies are born. Some people think Prodigies are made. What would happen if both sides of the coin were right? Follow such a Prodigy, one called Harry James Potter, as he finds within himself the ability of Magic and he makes his own way into the Magical World. NOTE: For those that wonder, this is a re-write of the original Prodigy. I have taken this route in order to eliminate the plot-holes that were in the original. Thanks for your support. The author has stated this story will not be continued. SIYE Note from SIYE: The original author of the story “Prodigy,” jmcqk6, has told SIYE he has abandoned his story and has given permission to other authors “that anyone could do whatever they want with it.” There is no issue of plagiarism involving this story. ~Sir Ollivander ~SIYE Administration Hitcount: Story Total: 39520; Chapter Total: 3837 |
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Freedom, n. s. freedom: The condition of being free; the power to act, speak or think without externally imposed restraints. After spending most of the morning playing with his friend, Harry did not know what to do. The owl had decided to go outside and enjoy flying around the house for some time. He had not studied much magic in the last week, and even playing with the owl was beginning to wear on him a bit. He needed something to get himself busy with, and something told him that it would not be found in his current location. He was lying down on the sofa, listening to some music he had found in a small cupboard in the living room, and dozing, when for the first time in quite a while the old woman made her presence known again. “Look outside the house,” she said. Harry stood up and headed over to the window. He saw the old, long bearded man he had seen weeks ago, but this time he was not alone. A tall, red-haired man was standing next to him, and a short balding man was bound in ropes there with him. Both the old man and the red-haired man were looking at the shorter man like his Uncle Vernon would sometimes look at him. “Who are they?” Harry asked aloud, hoping to get a straight answer this time. “You can figure it out if you think about it,” was the answer. “I can tell you they want to enter the house.” “Why would they want that?” Harry was confused. The bald man, who was faintly familiar to him, was obviously a prisoner for the other two men, but why would anyone bring a prisoner here? “They are looking for you,” the woman explained. “I do not want to see them,” Harry said. What the woman had said had worried him. He did not want to become a prisoner like the bald man. He thought he was not supposed to be where he was, and that if anyone found him at his parents' house, they would take him away. Despite being bored, leaving his home was not yet something he was ready to do. The woman chuckled in response, calming Harry a bit and giving him the sense that she knew far more about the men outside that she wanted to let on. “Do not worry; they cannot come in.” “Why not?” Harry was confused. He could see them easily, so why could not they see him too? “I am sure you can figure it out on your own, but I feel generous, so I will give you a hint. The balding man can transform himself into a rat, the rat that left the footprints in your father's study. He believes he should be able to get in, but he can't now. Do you know why?” Harry was silent, and he considered the question. The man was a rat, so that must mean he was an Animagus, which was a wizard or witch that could transform into an animal that was determined by the personality traits of the wizard. Some of the animal traits would be acquired by the wizard too, such as a better eyesight or more stamina. Then, in a flash of insight, he realised what was the answer. “That ward I put up against rats?” “Exactly!” said the woman happily. “Quite ingenious, really, that such a simple ward that is supposed to prevent rats from entering this house actually prevents him from entering. This is going to leave them all a bit perplexed out there, but you do not need to worry about that right now. The important thing you have to take care right now is that you need to get back to your studies. There is much more magic to learn, and time is always ticking away, little one,” she said, speaking with humour before her voice took a more serious tone. “I am not sure if you know it, but I am having a bit of problem with that,” Harry said. “And what is that problem, exactly?” Harry wondered how this woman could sound so much like a grandmother scolding him “Most of the texts in the library are too advanced for me. I can understand some of the words from time to time, but most of it I cannot understand yet,” Harry replied with a sigh. “Well, then perhaps you just need to get a better book to keep learning magic.” “Which book is that?” ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy* **~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Unaware of what was happening inside the Potters' house, Dumbledore was beginning to get frustrated with Pettigrew. He had already spent ten minutes trying to get him to tell them the secret to enter the house, but the man had not spoken it, only that something was preventing him from saying it. “Tell us the secret!” Dumbledore demanded, losing his normal composition and giving into his frustrations, some of which were six years old. Peter cowered from the powerful and angry mage. “L-Look, I’m t-telling you the charm is n-not the same. It d-does not work for me any m-more. I do not know why you want i-in, b-but whoever is in there n-now has p-put his own charms up. T-There is n-nothing I c-can do,” Peter explained. Dumbledore gave up trying to get the information voluntarily and entered the man’s mind. He knew that the Fidelius Charm would protect the secret, and thus it would be beyond his reach, but at least he would be able to confirm the rat's explanation about the new wards. Investigating, he quickly discovered that Pettigrew had been telling the truth about them, so he broke the connection. “I guess that we will not be able to understand this problem until we find some other answers. It's time to go to the Ministry, then,” Dumbledore said. Pettigrew stiffened and once again gave a futile attempt to escape, but Dumbledore's cold look kept him from doing it. A few seconds later, it would not matter anymore, as the three men had disappeared from Godric's Hollow to reappear in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy* **~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Back at the house, Harry sighed in relief when he saw the three men outside had left. He turned his attention to what the woman had been telling him, and sought an answer. “So, let me get this straight. The book you think I need was written by Prometheus himself, a book that only has a rumoured existence and that has never been seen before. If it does exist, it should be hidden in a castle standing in the middle of West Germany, under wards that no one has ever been able to see, let alone break through. How in the world am I supposed to find such a thing?” he asked, wide eyed. “Correct, young man. I have no doubt that you will succeed. The only thing you have to do is to start at the beginning of your story in here. I know for a fact that the book actually exists, and it should be quite easy for you to get to it. You just have to figure out how to do it, however. Have fun!” the woman replied, and suddenly disappeared from his mind. Harry sat down on the sofa, and started to think hard. He only had one clue to solve the mystery she had put in front of him: start at the beginning of his story. “Maybe she is referring to the beginning of my time here at my parents' house. Let's see... I was running hard, with Dudley just behind me, and then I jumped into the bin. I started thinking very hard in how much I wanted to be somewhere else... that is it!” If that was all he had to do, to wish to be somewhere else, then it might be as easy as the woman said. Of course, that did not take into account that he had been under great stress when he left the school and appeared home. However, now that he had better control over his magic, maybe he would be able to find the book just by wishing he was next to it. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. He started to chant with his mind. It was an easy thing: “I wish I was with Prometheus' book, I wish I was with Prometheus' book, I wish I was with Prometheus' book...” He repeated it over and over again. On his seventh round, as the doubt started to creep out of some hidden corner of his mind, he felt something was pulling him, and he disappeared from his parents' house with a POP! ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy*** ~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Eight year old Hermione Jane Granger was having the time of her life. School had ended just two days before, and now she was with her parents on their annual summer vacation. This year, they had chosen to go to West Germany, and the day before they had arrived to Mainz, from where they expected to visit a good part of the castles that stood along the Rhine. And, right now, they were exploring one of those castles, a large one that was sitting very high near the left bank of the river, and could only be accessed to by crossing a bridge. What she did not know was that this castle contained something that none of them knew about. Nor did she know that something would happen during her visit to the castle that would bother her for the next several years. Something that she would neither guess would be explained in a few years when something else she had never thought would ever happen happened. The three Grangers were in a room, with a group of other tourists, and they were about to leave it. This was not strange at all, and everything was perfectly fine. Hermione was at the back of the group just behind her parents, and was taking into everything she saw with very wide eyes, when suddenly she heard a crack and a door appeared in one of the walls, a door that had not been there a moment ago. The young girl shook her head to clear it. That could not have just happened. That door could not have just appeared out of nowhere. She obviously had not noticed it the first time she had looked around the room, but this somehow reminded her of those strange things that had happened to her when she was really angry. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she made her way over to the door and opened it. The room on the other side was pretty large, but the only thing in there was a table in the middle of the room, with a large book sitting on it. When a black-haired boy stepped towards the table and grabbed the book, she was unable to keep quiet and gasped in surprise, which drew his attention towards her. The only thing she could see was that the boy had shining emerald green eyes, and that he was as surprised as she was. “Hermione, honey, what are you doing?” her father asked, walking up behind her. Hermione was startled by her father's sudden appearance and turned around. “Hi daddy. I was just looking at this room. There is a boy in there, and I think he is not supposed to be there,” Hermione said, pointing at the room. Her dad peered into the room. “What are you talking about, Hermione?” he asked, confused. “There is no one in here, only a table.” “What?” Hermione asked, whipping around and looking into the room. Sure enough, the green-eyed boy she had seen was gone. How had he done that? “I know there was someone there, Dad.” “Perhaps you’re just getting tired, dear. Let me get your mum, and we’ll head back to the hotel to rest, OK?” her father asked with a concerned look. Hermione sighed, knowing that it was better to agree than to attempt to argue with him. Soon the Grangers were headed back to their hotel and away from the strange room and the strange boy. Over the next few years, Hermione would sometimes think about the boy, believing both he, the book and the room would stay in her past, but wondering who the boy was and how he had done all of that. She had no way of knowing that the boy that had so surprised her would, in a few years, enter her life once again, and that both of them would become important to each other. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy* **~~~***Prodigy***~~~ When Albus Dumbledore appeared in the Atrium of the British Ministry of Magic, accompanied by Arthur Weasley and an unknown man that was tied down in ropes, everybody there fell completely silent. Said appearance was felt, more than observed, as the wizened Headmaster was radiating power in a raw display of magic. This was a calculated effort in Dumbledore's part: he knew that he would need every ounce of perception his display of raw magic could create in order to accomplish what he wanted to do in this trip: obtaining Sirius Black's freedom. Dumbledore ignored everyone else on his way. He was a man on a mission, and the sooner he achieved that mission, the better it would be. Dumbledore practically dragged his hostage into the lift, only waiting for Arthur to enter it before pushing the button for Level One. Once he reached the floor, he dragged Pettigrew out of the lift and towards the Minister's office, walking much faster than what it was normal for a man of his age. When he finally found the Minister's office door, he waved his hand, and the outer door slammed open, startling the secretary, who had been reading the Daily Prophet, out of her seat. Dumbledore then went to open the door to the office itself, which slammed much like the first one. Inside, he found Cornelius Fudge, current Minister for Magic, and Lucius Malfoy. Given the current company the Minister had — and knowing how much influence Malfoy was starting to carry over Fudge through his money — Dumbledore knew he would have to act fast, to prevent any of them from doing anything that ran opposite to his wish. “Cornelius, I wish to speak with you right now, and it is something that cannot be delayed any more,” Dumbledore said, his voice belaying the great power he contained, and pushing Pettigrew into the office, where he tripped with a wrinkle on the rug and fell to the floor. “Dumbledore? What is the meaning of this?” Cornelius Fudge, current Minister for Magic, asked, both confused and angry. He had been in the middle of an important meeting with his advisor and friend Lucius Malfoy, when all of a sudden the current most powerful wizard in all of Britain, both magically and politically, had burst into his office and started to make demands. He had not suspected it before, as he had relayed on Dumbledore's increasingly less useful advice, but right now it was quite obvious that Lucius was right. Dumbledore was going senile. He would have to rein him in, and start to think of a way to replace Dumbledore from all of his positions. He was the Minister for Magic, after all, he should not have any problem in doing so. “The meaning of this is that there is a great problem, which I wish to solve right now,” Dumbledore replied, looking directly at the Minister. Cornelius Fudge's resolve to 'rein the old man in' disappeared, as he flinched from Dumbledore. The power that was rolling off the old man was more than enough to make him start to tremble. “What are you talking about, Dumbledore?” Lucius Malfoy asked with derision and, Dumbledore noticed, a little touch of hesitation. Lucius had instantly recognised the man that Dumbledore had just brought in: it was the man who had directed the Dark Lord towards destruction at the hands of Harry Potter. He wanted to squash Pettigrew like the rat he was, though, given that Dumbledore was there, he could not very well give away the fact that he had met him before. Dumbledore ignored Malfoy's inquiry and remained focused on Fudge. “Cornelius, I would suggest that we get Amelia Bones up here immediately,” Dumbledore ordered. “B-Bones? Why do we need her?” Fudge managed to stutter out. Amelia Bones had been appointed as the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, after Bartemius Crouch fell into disgrace following the arrest, imprisonment and death of his son, who had been caught torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom with Rodolphus, Rabastan and Bellatrix Lestrange, in an attempt to find Voldemort and resurrect him. Arthur then came into the room, wheezing slightly, and finally catching up with the older man. He was amazed at how quick Dumbledore could move when he needed to. “Arthur, please, would you mind if you could go and fetch Amelia?” Dumbledore asked the tall red-headed man, who, still breathing heavily, nevertheless turned around immediately to go do just that. “Again, Dumbledore, what is the meaning of this? Why have you brought this man here?” Fudge asked, beginning to gain a little confidence back. “If my suspicions are correct, the Ministry of Magic committed a grave mistake several years ago, and I hope that it will be corrected today,” Dumbledore said, without giving away the fact that he had already managed to uncover the truth in this matter: now, the problem laid with exposing the truth in such a way that his objectives would be achieved. A few seconds later, Arthur was back, accompanied by Amelia Bones. Immediately behind her came one of Dumbledore's oldest friends, Auror Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, and the current Head of the Auror Corps, Rufus Scrimgeour. “Ah, Director Bones, Mister Scrimgeour, Alastor, it is very nice to see you again,” Dumbledore said in a very nice voice. Fudge wondered where the display of power the old wizard had been showing a few minutes before had gone. “Albus, it's been too long,” Alastor said. “Indeed, Headmaster, it's been too long since I last saw you,” Amelia answered with a smile. Rufus nodded, his eyes drawn to the man that was on the floor, clearly tied down. “Yes, it is. I only wish this meeting had happened under better circumstances,” Dumbledore explained. “What circumstances are you talking about? And who is this man?” A confused look appeared on Amelia Bones' face. Scrimgeour raised his eyes to look directly at the old Headmaster. “I have powerful reasons to believe that this man is Peter Pettigrew,” Dumbledore said simply, noticing the fact that Lucius Malfoy had slowly made his way out of the office until he disappeared. That worked in the Headmaster’s favour: Arthur already knew the truth, Amelia was a woman of justice, and Rufus was the man Dumbledore could trust to work within the law, even if he delved a bit too much in the game of politics. The less allies the Minister had within the room, the easier it would be to get his point through. “Preposterous, Albus! Peter Pettigrew is dead! Black killed him six years ago!” Cornelius Fudge exploded, his previous surprise forgotten. Despite his anger at Dumbledore's actions, he was still able to remember what had happened six years ago. “You have to admit, Professor, that the claim is rather… interesting,” Amelia offered diplomatically. “Not only interesting, but it raises several questions about how you actually found him,” Rufus said, curtly. “The tale of how he was found is one I will share with you later. As for discovering the truth on this matter, we are lucky, indeed, to have a very simple way to do so,” the Headmaster said, with a twinkle in his eye. “I am sure you carry a vial of Veritaserum with you, Alastor, so, if you please?” The grizzled Auror pulled a small vial with a transparent liquid out of his pocket, while he kept both eyes fixed on the balding man. “I'd suggest you not to try anything funny, Pettigrew, or else you may find yourself at the bad end of my wand,” he threatened, his only natural eye brightening at the mere idea. Pettigrew was soon tied down to a chair, and forced to drink three drops of the truth serum “Look here, Albus, I don't know what do you think you are doing, but if this man is to be interrogated, he must be sent down to the cells and...” Cornelius Fudge tried to assert his authority again, in a last attempt to regain control of the situation. This man could not be Peter Pettigrew, it was impossible, he had seen Sirius Black laughing at Pettigrew's charred remains after he blew up the street. He wanted to make sure this man did not disturb things around, he feared that this could become the end of his career as the Minister for Magic, and the only way to prevent it was to stop this interrogation and keep the man in a cell. However, Dumbledore looked at him with the coldest eyes he had ever seen on him, and his resolve once more fizzled down. “What is your name?” Moody said, while his magical eye swirled around intimidatingly. The bald man tried to resist, but he was not known for his ability to resist anything, so he opened his mouth and spoke. “Peter Pettigrew,” the prisoner replied. Amelia looked, surprised, at the man and at Albus, alternatively, while Rufus fingered his wand. The consequences of this would be... life-changing. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~*** Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ The British Magical World radically changed that day. After Pettigrew was questioned on the events of Halloween 1981 and of two days after that day, when he framed Sirius for his death, Rufus Scrimgeour immediately dispatched the Aurors in order to fix all the wrongs that had come to pass years ago, after Voldemort's defeat by Harry Potter. The first thing was releasing Sirius Black from prison: he had spent more than six and a half years there, without the chance of defending himself in a fair trial, and it was now that he was given that chance. However, Sirius Black's freedom wasn't the most important thing that would happen. Pettigrew was interrogated very thoroughly on the identities of other Death Eaters and their activities during the time of Voldemort's attempt to take control of the Magical World. The heads of some of the oldest and most influential families were brought for questioning — and, unlike the last time it had happened, they were questioned under Veritaserum. And most of them were sent to prison, after their crimes were revealed. Sometimes, their wives followed them, as well as other family members, and there were instances of some of their children being sent to a detention centre as they were being trained by their parents for when Voldemort came back. The first head to fall was, despite Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge's efforts to prevent it, Lucius Malfoy's. His wife Narcissa managed to get free, as, while she had thought the Dark Lord had the right idea, she was not a Death Eater and had never committed a crime. Pettigrew continued to supply names, and Malfoy was forced to do the same under Veritaserum, bringing down many other pureblood families, namely those of Borgin, Bulstrode, Carrow, Macnair, Nott and Parkinson among others. As soon as all the Death Eaters had been imprisoned, the full weight of justice was brought on the corruption that had festered within the Ministry for years. Cornelius Fudge only lasted two more days as Minister for Magic: he was the victim of the quickest vote of no confidence in the history of the Ministry and was sent to Azkaban as well, as many of the Death Eaters had confessed to bribing him, and his stalwart defence of the Malfoys was the final blow. Amelia Bones was appointed as a temporary Minister for Magic until someone could be chosen, and she began to clean house. All around the Ministry, bureaucrats that did not work at all were laid off, and people that could actually get things done replaced them. Several unsavoury characters that had managed to get jobs at the Ministry through their connections to Cornelius Fudge were summarily kicked out of their jobs, and the positions they occupied were either given to other people or erased from the Ministry roster. One of the situations that shocked most of the Ministry was that of Dolores Umbridge, Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister. A cursory interrogation about what she had been up to during her work at the Ministry turned into a very hard one, complete with a raid in her house that discovered she had a great assortment of dark objects — among them several Blood Quills — that had been forbidden for more than four hundred years. She got a three-hundred year sentence to Azkaban due to the actions she had taken and the dark objects that had been found in her possession. A last immediate effect was revising all the laws that had been passed by the Wizengamot ever since Fudge had been appointed as Minister for Magic, and a good part of them were repealed and replaced with more sensible legislation. While it could not heal all the injuries that had been done to the wizards and witches' relationship with other magical beings, it was a first step towards reconciliation. All because a little black-haired boy thought that he could do magic with a stick. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy* **~~~***Prodigy***~~~ The boy in question, completely unaware of the drama that his actions had caused outside of his house, was currently standing back in his library, holding an old leather-bound book in his hand. Despite its run-down appearance, it was probably the most valuable book in the entire existence of the world — it was surely the oldest book that existed. It was none other than the personal journal of the last known living Ancient — Prometheus. Harry slowly opened the book, and became the first person, other than its owner, to be able to glance upon its contents. Unfortunately for him, he soon discovered that glancing was everything he could do. The whole journal was written in another language, one that definitively did not look like English at all. The script seemed to be done it a very strange way, as if a pen had been flowing free along the page, with dots appearing up and down the curvy lines. “What does the book say, young one?” It was the old woman again, invading his mind. She really seemed to be curious about the book. “I do not know,” Harry replied. “It is in another language. One I have never seen.” “Well, surely you know what do to about that?” Harry did not answer but merely scowled slightly. There was something, however, that seemed to stick out in his mind. “Isn't there a translation charm? I remember it said it could duplicate a book and change the language in it into other language.” “Ah, so you know what you need to do,” the woman chuckled. “How do I even know if this is going to work? I do not know this language, so it would be hard enough, but probably it will translate the book into more words I can't understand. How is that going to help me?” Harry fired all those questions quite fast, and did not expect an answer. To his surprise, this time he did receive one. “You control the magic you use, do you not?” The question was simple, but it stopped Harry in his tracks. It was true — he did control it. The magic he had inside him answered to what he asked it to do. What did that mean, however? Would the charm just translate the journal into English? Or would the translated journal have words he could understand? Harry fetched the charms book where he had seen the translation charm. The incantation and the wand movement seemed to be easy to cast, so he thought that it would work easily. He took a deep breath before trying it for the first time. As soon as he cast the spell, he realised that perhaps it would have probably been better to first try the charm in some other book, not in the oldest one in the world: if something bad happened, then he would not be able to recover it. As soon as the spell hit the book, it had begun to shake. Had Harry attempted to touch it, he would have probably burned himself, for the book was quickly getting hotter every second. A few seconds later, it began to smoke. Harry attempted to find some way to stop the spell, but to no avail. As the smoke became denser, he decided to cast a cooling charm, hoping that it would prevent the book from burning down to ashes. The smoke density went down a bit, but it wasn't enough. The book continued to shake, and the smoke was still there, in spite of Harry pouring all of his power into the simple cooling charm. All of a sudden, a flame burst from the the book, and Harry started panicking. “What do I do now?” As suddenly as the fire had started, it stopped, and all the smoke blew down before disappearing. When the smoke cleared, Harry saw that there were now two books, one on top of the other. The original was the lower one, exactly as it was before, without a trace of the small fire that had appeared on it. The one on the top looked newer, and it was also in perfect condition. He picked the book on the top and opened it: it was handwritten, like the original, but this one was in clearly readable English. The other one, to his relief, had all the text still there. He took the copy and opened it by the first page, to read what the Ancient had written in it. The first entry read: 28 Ferdez 543 I am starting school tomorrow. I am really excited about it, finally I will be able to study magic, like my parents did years ago, and like my brothers are doing, too. My cousin Nidaer told me that a good way to help with my studies was to write a journal, in which I could put what I did during the day. That could help me keep track of the things I learn every day, so I followed his suggestion and started to use this blank book to write it. The text was simple enough for him, fortunately, but Harry had hoped it would have something related to magic written there. Maybe there would be something interesting at later pages. Quickly passing some pages, he found a new entry. 8 Neira 544 Finally! It took me several days to do it, but I finally managed to control the colour changing spell. It was harder than the levitation spell, that one is just thinking about making something float in the air, but the colour changing spell not only you have to concentrate on making something change colour, but you also have to concentrate on the exact colour you want. I managed to colour the rock blood red, not like the other day: it seems that, if you think of more than one colour, the end result is NOT what you first thought about. That yellow the rock acquired nearly made Suria vomit. That's what she said, at least. Anyway, we also met for the first time with our potions teacher. He's an old man, older than Dad and Mom, and he is a total git. He constantly told us that he thought we were idiots and that he did not believe we would be able to reach his abilities. We haven't started making potions yet, but I have already read a bit ahead on potions, because I really want to wipe that sneer out of his face. Nidaer told me he would show me a couple of things that could make that easier, so I guess that's something else that I'll be able to do. That sparked Harry's curiosity. Prometheus did not say anything about using a wand. Then he remembered what the book his mother had been reading mentioned that the Ancients did not use wands at all, that they could do magic just through their will. That was something else he could try to learn, magic without wands. And the detail about the colour changing spell was interesting. Maybe he could test it soon. He kept reading the book. 25 Neira 544 Ha! That showed him. I managed to do a perfect sleeping potion and he could not say anything bad about it. Nidaer says that all the show at the start of the year was just to get us worked up enough to do our best without mistake. I find it hard to believe, he really got angry at Suria when she nearly put some holly seeds into the cauldron. Suria was nearly crying at the end of the lesson. If it weren't for the fact that he is older and stronger than all of us, I would have force fed him my sleeping potion and see him sleep away the whole day! At least, Suria laughed when I told her that later. Harry frowned. There was not much on magic here, just a problem with a bad-mannered teacher. Who was Suria? It sounded like a girl, who was friends with Prometheus. He must have missed how he met her when he passed the pages so fast. Going back to the first page, he found again the first entry, and decided that it would be better if he read it from front to back, without missing any entry, so that he could know everything that had happened to Prometheus. He was now hooked, and began reading page after page very quickly. Time lost its meaning to him again, as he spent the whole afternoon and night in his chair, reading the life of the Ancient, and everything he did. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy***~~~* **Prodigy***~~~ Harry spent the next couple of days reading Prometheus' Journal. He was completely absorbed by its interesting story, and the lot of things the Ancient did while he was at school was impressive. Harry learned many things about potions and spells, which Prometheus wrote about in his journal, but the book held more importance for Harry than just those spells: it provided him with the role model he had not found at the Dursleys, and also someone that, although he couldn't talk to him, could still teach him many things of great usefulness. However, there was something that nagged at the back of his mind: how was it possible that the journal of the last wizard of the greatest magical civilization ever could be not only read, but perfectly understood, by a seven year old boy that had only learned of the existence of magic hardly a month before? He supposed that maybe this was one of the effects of the charm he had cast on the book, which the old lady had said could transform all the words in ones he would understand, but he thought it would be better if he asked her at a later point, when she showed up again. She had been completely quiet while he read, probably because she also wanted to read the book, but Harry had not tried to call her, because now he was learning in a very good way. Two nights after finding Prometheus' Journal, he decided that he probably should follow the ancient wizard's steps, because he realised that writing a journal had many advantages: after all, if you decided to write your progress and all the things you did, then it would be easy to look at that thing just by finding the entry on that day and reading it. Harry looked at the mountain of notebooks he had put in his father's office and picked one of the blank notebooks. He then sat down in the table at the library and opened the notebook on its first page. For a minute, Harry wondered if he should put the date whenever he made an entry, just like Prometheus had done in his journal, but soon he realised it was not possible. He was not able to measure time like the other wizard, and also he did not care a lot about what day it was. He would just adjust it when he went to Hogwarts, but now he had to write the first entry. Taking a pen, he started writing. HARRY POTTER'S JOURNAL Entry 1 My name is Harry Potter. I am seven years old. For most of my life, I have lived with my relatives, until some time ago, when I managed to transport myself to a house, using something called magic, of which I never heard of while I was with my relatives. I soon discovered that this had been my parents' house, and that both them and me were able to use it. In the time I have been here so far, I have been learning how to use magic, and it is really fun, because I can use it for many things. A few days ago, I found a very old book. It was the journal of an old wizard named Prometheus. He wrote about how he started to learn magic in a school, with his friends, and how to make potions — which are things that can be drunk and have magical effects. I realised how useful having a journal was, so I decided to follow in his footsteps and write my own journal. The rest of the very long first entry in the journal was dedicated to describing everything that had happened during his stay, talking about his parents, all the cleaning and repairing he had done during his first days, his avian friend and everything else. When he wrote the last words, he felt hungry, so he went downstairs and made himself something good to eat and fulfilling, and after cleaning up, he climbed into his parents' bed and soon fell into a fitful sleep. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy* **~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Entry 3 It's been a couple of days since I last wrote, but I don't think there should be much problem with that. I am still learning a lot about magic. Prometheus' Journal has a lot of interesting things in there. I have also realised that now I need to use the dictionary less and less, and I feel like the words and their meanings are falling into place. These days, the owl has been most curious about what I am doing, spending most of her time looking over my shoulder, although every few hours she goes out and hunts. Maybe I should find a name for her, calling her “owl” the whole time doesn't sound that nice. This morning, I made my second potion, and this time things were much better. This potion was one that could turn someone's hair lime green. It is pretty much useless, unless you want to disguise yourself, but it was easy to make, and I look really funny in the mirror. Soon, I'll try to do some more complicated potions. I feel like this is going to be important! ~~~***Prodigy***~~~*** Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Albus Dumbledore was in his office when the fire flared green. He had been expecting this for the last few weeks. He knew that Sirius Black had been placed in Saint Mungo's Hospital to repair the years of damage Azkaban had caused in him. No one knew how he had managed to stay relatively sane after six years and a half imprisoned, but Albus had thanked Merlin for that: it meant that he would be fit to take over the guardianship of Harry Potter, which he should have been given back in 1981, but several mistakes done by many people — Sirius, Barty Crouch, even Albus — had prevented that. “Sirius,” Albus said, when he saw the dark-haired man entering his office through the Floo. “It's a pleasure to see you again, and in better conditions than the last time.” “Yes, it is. I just wish you would have tried to pull me out of there sooner, you know,” Sirius replied. “I know, Sirius, and that is something I will never be able to forgive myself for. However, if you had come to me and told me what had happened instead of running off in pursuit of Pettigrew, maybe this would have not happened. I'm not putting all the fault with you,” Albus said when he saw Sirius react to his comment, “I'm only saying that all of us share some of the blame, and myself the most, given that I should have pushed for a trial.” Sirius breathed very hard. “Look, Albus, this is very hard for me. I have spent six years and a half in what is basically Hell on Earth, and then three weeks at Saint Mungo's. And all of this time, the only thing I have wondered the most, just on par with where Wormtail was, is Harry. Would you please take me to wherever he is so that we may start to live together, as James and Lily had intended?” Albus winced. This was exactly the question he had expected, and at the same time the one he had feared the most. “Sirius, there are a couple of things I must tell you about Harry. And all of them are important. So, please, do not get too angry until I am finished.” Sirius steeled himself on his seat, and nodded. “Very well. The night after James and Lily... died... I had Hagrid bring Harry to Surrey.” “Surrey? Isn't that where... Albus, are you telling me that you left Harry with Lily's sister?” the former prisoner of Azkaban asked in clipped tone. “Do you think I had many choices, Sirius?” Dumbledore cut in before Sirius could start off in a rant. “I thought you had betrayed James and Lily, Remus was away on a mission, Pettigrew had gone missing. I realised that Lily managed to place some kind of protection with Harry, one that could only hold on by placing Harry with someone that shared his mother's blood, and Petunia was his only living relative on the side of his mother, so that was the only possibility I had. Believe me, if it weren't for that protection, I would have adopted Harry and taken care of him.” “Even with the little I know about her, I'd bet that Petunia would not have cared at all for Harry.” “That's the worst, Sirius. She did not care at all about Harry. He was treated abysmally, and the only good thing that came out of it was that he wasn't at all like the Dursleys' son. Do you think I enjoyed hearing that Harry did not have the life he deserves?” “Albus,” Sirius said, really angry, “the only reason you don't have a black eye and a broken nose right now is because I want you to take me there, and help me if I find out the situation is worse than I imagine.” “I fear that is not possible. Harry is not living with his relatives.” Sirius blinked. Once. Twice. “WHAT?” “A month ago, someone I had managed to place there at Privet Drive to keep an eye on Harry told me he had disappeared. The first thing I did was to go to his house, in order to find possible clues of where he had left to. It took me nearly two weeks to ascertain where Harry was, and I finally found him. However, he is unreachable. He is now living at Godric's Hollow.” “Since you captured Wormtail, I guess that there must be something else, or you would have already found him.” “Yes. I do not know the reason, but Pettigrew told me that the Fidelius Charm over Harry's house had been modified, and that he was unable to tell the secret. As far as I know, the Fidelius may be brought down by the caster, the Secret Keeper may allow someone else to hold the secret, or, should the Secret Keeper die, then everyone that knows the secret becomes a Keeper. But I have never found a situation in which the Secret Keeper loses the ability to tell the secret without the caster being involved. And, since Lily was the one doing that... it makes no sense at all.” “So, do you think it might have something to do with Harry?” “Yes. This cannot be a coincidence at all.” “Could you tell me something about what happened with Pettigrew, exactly?” Dumbledore told the man everything that had happened, from the moment Arthur Weasley had brought the rat into his office to when he got Amelia Bones to interrogate him. Sirius, who knew part of what Albus had told him, but not everything, thought a bit about it. “So, Wormtail said he couldn't enter the place at all?” Sirius asked. “I know it sounds a bit implausible, but maybe it has something to do with his being a rat. Not a rat as in a traitor, but his Animagus form. There are wards that prevent rats from entering a house, and the longer an Animagus spends as his form, the more characteristics they acquire from it. Do you think that, maybe, someone got Harry to enter the house and then cast that ward?” “Yes... I can see that. However, there is a small problem with your theory. Who would have told Harry to enter the house? No one that knew the secret was near Harry. And also Harry managed to do an accidental Apparition from his primary school. This is only a guess, but I believe that what happened was that Harry managed to Apparate to his parents' house and then he learned enough about magic to cast such a ward. Given the great number of books James and Lily had in there, I am sure that he must have read about it.” “So... should I go to Godric's Hollow? Maybe I can enter the house and talk with Harry.” “If you manage to do that, I'll be the first to congratulate you on your finally adopting Harry.” ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy ***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Entry 12 I saw a man out there right now just as I was reading something more on Potions. He looks familiar to me, but I am not sure why. He seemed to be running around the house, as if he did not know it was here. It is like when I saw those men before, the old man, the red haired man and the man the old lady said was an Animagus. I am not sure if it would be a good idea to try to go out and talk to him. I continued reading on Potions. It is very interesting, and already I have tried a few more potions, which have gone well. One of them was a potion that turned my hair green. I looked myself at a mirror and laughed at the hair. There is something else I am wondering about. Should I continue reading about the things they taught me at school? I don't know about English, but maybe I will need Maths. Prometheus wrote about something called Arithmancy, which has to do with magic and numbers, and some of mum's books are about that. Maybe... maybe I could go to some library and get copies of books, so that I can learn. Also, the owl named herself. I asked her if she wanted me to call her by some name, so she flew towards a book I had left on the table, passed the pages with her beak and then hooted, with her claw over a word. I saw that she was pointing at Hedwig. She is really smart, I swear. And if she wants me to call her Hedwig, I will do that. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodi gy***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Sirius had resigned himself after a week to not being able to talk with Harry. He did not know if Harry had seen him. If he hadn't, then there was nothing he could do, and if he had, maybe he was scared of him. Somewhere, deep inside him, he felt bad: he had held some hope of Harry jumping into his open embrace, calling him 'Pa-foo', just like he did when he was one. However, he knew that Harry had changed, first because of his living with the Dursleys, and then with the couple of months he had already lived completely alone. Instead, he decided that it was time to find the only remaining living Marauder — Pettigrew did not count at all, after his betrayal: Remus, according to Albus, was living in America, working on something related to a group that was making tests to find a cure for lycanthropy. Getting the paperwork for an International Portkey to the United States had been hard and long enough, but it was nothing compared with the bureaucratic nightmare that was getting all the paperwork that would allow him to move across the US without problem, as well as permission to do magic: given that it had been a spur of the moment thing, he was lucky that he did not have to do more. Anyway, he had finally managed to reach the refuge in the state of Montana, the “Treasure State”, as they called it. It was near a forest that was protected with several wards, in order to prevent anyone but those allowed from entering it in the middle of a full moon night, and keeping the werewolves inside. They took security very seriously in there. Sirius had sent a message through owl from the nearest magical district he had found (Columbia Street, in Seattle) to tell the people in the refuge he would be arriving there shortly, and then had taken a Portkey from there to the nearest town, where he had rented a room for a couple of days. And it was now that he was about to face the man he had not seen in seven years: he hoped that Remus would receive him well. He had Apparated to the coordinates he had been given to him by the people at the refuge, and he found himself a couple of tens of metres from a small wooden cabin, that stood near a thick forest that crossed the border with Canada. He walked up to the cabin and knocked on the wooden door. The door opened, and a man appeared. He looked to be in his forties, with dark brown hair peppered with grey spots, small bags under his light grey eyes and quite thin, which was noticeable even under the shirt and trousers he was wearing. “Who are you?” the man asked, suspicious, with an accent that Sirius noticed was from the surroundings, as it was very similar to the accent of the people at the nearby town. “I am Sirius Black. I sent a notice yesterday about my visiting here.” “Oh, yes, I remember,” the man said. “Just come through and I'll show you in.” Sirius stepped inside, and after the door closed behind him, the man pulled a candlestick on the wall and a hole opened on the floor, showing a set of stairs. “We do it this way to reduce the chance of someone finding this place by accident,” the man explained. “The only moment the werewolves we are working with are outside is on a full moon, and we have special Portkeys attached to them so that they are brought back when the moon sets. That way, we can start checking their vitals really fast.” “It is... impressive,” Sirius said. “I wish there was something like this in Britain. That way, Moony could be back home without a problem.” “Moony?” the man asked, as he guided Sirius into a lift. “Oh, sorry, that's Remus Lupin's nickname; he got stuck with it after our friends and I learned that he was a werewolf.” The man seemed to be surprised. “Really? Here in America we have the image of British werewolves being shunned away for what they are.” “Yeah, I know that, and it is quite sad... pushes many werewolves into going wild to survive. However, Remus is one of the best people I have ever met, and I think everything that has happened to him is really bad. I have come here to see if he wants to come back to England, or at least to talk with him. Do you get the newspaper in here?” “We do, but it tends to be The Observer. The latest news from England was that your Minister had been kicked out for some problem with those terrorists, the Death Eaters.” “Yes. The man was protecting one of them, Lucius Malfoy, who had been bribing him, and once Malfoy got sent to prison, the Minister too got sent to prison.” The man smiled. “Sounds like you had something to do with it.” “No, at least, not directly,” Sirius replied with a laugh. “Years ago, I was framed and sent to prison, and some time before they judged Malfoy they caught the man that had framed me. He was a friend of Remus and mine, so you can imagine how bad it was.” “Well, that is good. I had always noticed that there was something affecting Remus, but I never asked.” A small bell rang, and the door opened. “We provide all the people that work with us with room, food and some work aside from what they do with the research group. It's not much, but we do our best.” “It is impressive, I have to admit it. I have noticed that you also use some Muggle technology. How do you do it?” “Well, the lift there is the biggest piece of Mundane — what you call Muggle — technology we have managed to charm, so that it doesn't blow up in our noses when we use it. It is still imperfect, but in case of emergency we can get people out of the lift really fast. Some of the werewolves, those that want to, are working on finding ways to use more Mundane technology, and so far we have gotten a couple of interesting things.” The man stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. “This is Remus Lupin's room.” The door opened, and Sirius smiled when the tired face he had not seen in the last seven years appeared behind it. “What's going on, Frank?” Remus had not seen Sirius yet, given that he was at a side. “You've got a visitor, Remus,” the man answered. “Hi, Moony!” Sirius replied, with a grin. Remus looked at him, and after a few seconds, he stepped forward and punched him so hard that Sirius lost consciousness. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~*** Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Entr y 24 This morning, Hedwig woke me up by accident. She had been hunting outside, and she entered my parents' room with a dead mouse on her claws. She obviously found it outside, and thought that I would like it. After I woke up, I think she got the message quite clear. I have spent the last weeks reading on Maths, and I have to say that it is far easier than what the school teacher told us. Multiplying and dividing are easy. You just have to check your numbers. I am trying to work out how to do the square roots, but it is harder than the rest. I also continued reading Prometheus' Journal. It is quite interesting. He talks a lot about Arithmancy. It seems that he used Arithmancy to make divination, and also to work up a few things about charms. The divination part did not work very well, but the charms thing worked. I am now wondering if Arithmancy can be used to do something about potions. I have read Flamel's book, and I have noticed that there are several potion ingredients that have very similar properties. There are also several things that stand out, like the proportions of the ingredients in the potions. I would have to wait until I know enough Arithmancy, but I think that it can work. I am knackered, so I am going to sleep now. Tomorrow, I will keep with the roots and, as soon as I finish, I will start learning Arithmancy. It is going to be a busy day! |
| Reviews 51 |
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