Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Heir

Chapter 1

by IrishClover 0 reviews

Harry Potter was taken in by an ancient power and raised knowing his true heritage. To everyone else, Harry has been dead for fifteen years. What happens when the light needs help the most? Complete!

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Fantasy,Humor - Characters: Harry - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2008-01-06 - Updated: 2008-01-06 - 3480 words - Complete

Chapter One

It was Halloween night, and little children dressed in costumes of monsters and witches prowled the neighborhoods in search of candy. But there was one neighborhood that no one seemed to want to go down. It’s not that it was rundown or had a bad reputation, quite the opposite in fact, this street was known to be one of the best for scoring candy. But tonight it lay in darkness, not one streetlight emitted light upon the well kept lawns and gardens of the cookie cutter homes. This may have been a haven for the teenagers, as no little kids would bother them, but even they did not seem to want to venture down the dark lane.

Privet Drive was not abandoned though, a strange looking trio stood outside one of the homes. One of them was an old man with long gray hair and a beard long enough to tuck into the strange robes he wore. The other was a rather severe looking woman with a long pointed hat, she seemed to be arguing with the older man regarding a small bundle that lay within a wicker basket on the back of a motorcycle. The last man was enormous, he wore a strange looking fur coat with a pink umbrella sticking out of a side pocket. This man seemed to be the most emotional as well, his wild hair and beard were matted with tears and he smelled strongly of smoke.

From across the street, a tall, black hooded figure watched the three as they finally put their differences aside and laid the basket on the porch of the home. Wishing the small child inside the best of luck, they regretfully parted. The large man got on the bike and flew into the air before disappearing into the night sky. The last two did not seem at all surprised to see a motorcycle fly into the sky, they just gazed fondly into the basket before they seemed to vanish into thin air with an audible pop.

Walking swiftly across the street, the dark cloaked figure peered into the basket as well before pulling back his hood to reveal a middle aged man with shoulder length black hair and solemn gray eyes. Wisdom shone in eyes that had seen much as he leaned over the small child within, whispering in a deep voice with great conviction. “Young one, your destiny is not yet fulfilled. For the Dark One will rise once more, you must be prepared to face your future. Dumbledore is doing what he thinks is right, but you will never survive if you are always protected and kept in the dark as I know he will do.” With these words, he lifted the basket and disappeared into the night.

For many years, people would wonder what had become of little Harry Potter. He had the makings of being a powerful wizard, if not the most powerful. Destroying the most powerful dark wizard to walk this earth since Salazar Slytherin was not an easy feat, neither was surviving a directly applied killing curse. Albus Dumbledore would also go down in history as the man who lost the wizarding world’s greatest hero. Not that this would change his image that much, as he had in fact, defeated the last dark lord many years before.

Albus Dumbledore had just received another pesky owl from the Ministry; this was his second this week. Having the incompetent Dolores Umbridge attempt to teach last year was bad enough, now they wanted to fill the ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts’ position with Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater? Ever since Lord Voldemort’s return two years ago, the Ministry had turned a blind eye towards any incidents that may be classified as ‘Death Eater attacks’. The only reason that they even admitted that he was alive now was the fact that he had showed up in the lobby of the ministry building, after getting wind of a prophesy that concerned him.


Albus Dumbledore awoke to the sound of a small bell ringing next to his bed. Blinking sleepily at the sound, he suddenly jerked awake as he realized what the bell was for. Since he had been the one to transfer the original prophesy to the small globe that incased it, he had been given a small charmed bell to alert him of the slightest disturbance surrounding it. It had only rung once before, and that was for the placement of another prophesy next to it. There was no reason that there should be a disturbance after hours, unless someone that the prophesy pertained to was about to move it.

Flinging on the nearest robes that he could find, Dumbledore dashed to his fireplace and flooed over to the ministry lobby. Standing directly in front of him, with a surprised look covering his marred face, stood Lord Voldemort. After regaining their composures, the two enemies faced off with a spectacular battle, it was still going strong when the slightly hassled Minister and the other ministry employees showed up a few minutes later. At the sight of the entire force of the Ministry in front of him, albeit shocked, Voldemort quickly apparated himself, along with his inner circle away.

In the confusion, a small glass globe had slipped from Voldemort’s robes, rolling into the low eaves of the fountain that stood in the middle of the room. Once Dumbledore had answered everyone’s questions to the best of his knowledge, he slipped the small prophesy into his pocket unnoticed.

Knowing now that the prophesy would not be safe even in the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore had placed the small translucent globe in his office. Hiding it behind his rather large desk in a hidden drawer he had commissioned his former student, Arthur Weasley, to craft for just such an emergency if it should occur. . A rather muggle hiding spot in his opinion, not somewhere that a Death Eater or Voldemort himself would think to look.

End Flashback

Sighing deeply, Dumbledore shifted his attention from the parchment in front of him to the brightly plumaged bird by his desk. “Fawkes, what am I to do? I have run out of time to find a suitable teacher for this position, and I am afraid that I may not have a choice now.” Steepling his fingers together, he shifted to his famous ‘thinking’ stance to review any applicant that he may have overlooked.


In a large cavern, deep in a dense forest, a tall raven haired teenager tirelessly hammered on a glowing metal blade with his anvil. Stopping to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he glanced to his father who seemed to be dozing in the corner. Not believing the sleeping act for a second, the boy grimaced slightly before picking his heavy hammer back up to finalize the nearly finished blade.

Three hours later, a weary and sweaty teenager studied the fruit of his labor. Smiling ruefully, he placed it on a scarred wooden worktable and began to mutter strangely and wave his hand over the hot metal. Slowly a glow began to surround the large sword as the boy swept his hands once more over it. Once the glow had receded, a slightly blue hue lingered over the cooled metal of the broadsword. Reaching into a cupboard behind him, he pulled out an almost identical sword, but with a reddish tint to it.

As Harry gazed fondly upon his work, he remembered the work he had put into these blades. The blade was forged from mythril, and reached a length of three and a half feet. The core had been hollowed out, just like a wand. But unlike the materials used in wands, such as Phoenix heartstrings, Phoenix tail feathers, and the other assorted oddities that wizards tended to use, these cores contained the magical blood of an ancient phoenix, griffin, and the blood of the oldest and wisest of the dragons. The blood was willingly given by the ancients, thus making it more powerful than ever. Also added was the blood of Harry and his adopted father, this caused the swords to connect with the two wizard’s magical core itself.

Magical runes had also been etched into the metal, creating an ornate design along the top of the blade. Some of the magic within the runes caused the swords to be indestructible from magical as well as physical means. Different runes adorned the two swords, causing one to be the water element and the other the fire element; it also caused the slight color changes for the individual weapons.

Along the handle, Harry had wrapped black dragon leather to create a steadier grip; it also covered a few of the more illegal runes that he had added upon his father’s insistence. These runes had reflective properties to them, causing them to be able to repel even the strongest of curses. The hilt had a plain design to it, but deeply embedded within the metal lay dozens of diamonds, each with its own individual charm placed upon it.

To finish the look, he had cut a blood groove just below the runes. This gave it a separated look, the top part of the blade showed beauty and elegance, but the bottom half of the blade showed the deadly power contained throughout.

Grasping the leather wrapped handle of the blue blade, he held the two swords together at arms length. Satisfied, he laid them both on the table and walked over to the black haired man in the corner.

“Dad, you can open your eyes now, I’m finished.” At the boy’s words, the man slowly opened his solemn gray eyes and pulled himself into sitting position, before stretching the kinks out of his back from the hard wooden bench.

“Alright, let’s see what you have” The tall man stood and walked over to the worktable where the two swords lay for his inspection. After several minutes of testing and intense scrutiny, he stood back with a pleased expression. “Very good, I believe that you have fully mastered the art. I do like the extra charms that you have added, especially the summoning charm, that may come in handy someday. Since these swords are your full creations, you will have to give them a name to instigate the persona into them.” He tested the sharpness of the blade as he spoke. “When you name them, it will officially bond them to you, and only you may use them at that point on. Have you come up with their names yet?”

Harry smiled imperceptibly as he nodded. “Yes, I have, the fire element will be Prometheus, after the Greek titan who brought fire down to humans. As for the water element, I was thinking about Poseidon, like the Greek god of the sea. Although Prometheus doesn’t feel like it would actually strike fear into my enemies by the sound of it, unless they were sailers.”

The man laughed at the sour look on Harry’s face. “You are right about that, what about Hades or Aries? Both of those were feared gods, and they would fit in with the ancient Greek theme you seem to have going.”

Harry placed the water sword down and picked up his fire sword in contemplation. “Well, I like the sound of Aries, but he didn’t have a whole lot to do with fire, mostly just war.” Pausing, he gnawed on his bottom lip in his usual sign of deep thinking. “It could work though, it definitely sounds more powerful.”

“Alright, meet me down in the field in a few minutes. We can name them and test out their true powers there.” With a smile, he patted his adopted son on the back and walked outside.

Grinning, Harry cleaned up his work area for a few minutes and gathered his new weapons. Placing both swords in a brown leather bundle, he followed his father outside.


“You can’t be serious, Albus. You know that he is a death eater, there has to be another choice. What about rehiring Lupin?” McGonagall argued back.

Dumbledore wearily rubbed his temples; the two had had this argument many times over the last couple of weeks. Neither wanted to hire Malfoy, but due to the pressure from the Ministry and the lack of applicants for the position, it was now the only option that they had left.

“Minerva, you know that I don’t have a choice here, no one wants to take the position due to the rumors of it being cursed. If I could rehire Lupin or even get Mad Eye to teach, the parents would pull their children out due to the fact that one would be a werewolf or the other would be an eccentric ex-auror with a pension for blowing everything up.” Dumbledore replied. “I will be sending the notice tomorrow that the new ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts’ teacher will be Lucious Malfoy. I can only imagine what this will do for the student body. Young Malfoy has always been a problem, but now I am afraid that it will escalate greatly with his father as a teacher. I want you to warn the other teachers and have them keep an eye on both of them as much as possible.”

McGonagall nodded grimly before taking her leave, while Dumbledore reluctantly began to make plans for the new teacher.


A few weeks later, Harry was preparing to return to a world that he had been exiled from for fifteen years. After hearing of who the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher was, Harry had adamantly pressured his father to allow him to return to the wizarding world. He knew that Dumbledore would try to find out where he had been for all of these years, but he knew that as an accomplished occumentist, Dumbledore would have no chance of finding out anything that Harry wasn’t prepared to let him know.

“Harry, you be careful, you know the risks that you are taking exposing yourself. You may find yourself facing Voldemort sooner that you may want to.” Harry’s father was staying as calm as he could, but his emotions were starting to show the closer the time came for Harry to leave. The fact that Harry was not his real son meant nothing to him, he loved him like he was his own. And ‘letting the wolves have him’ was not setting well with him.

Smiling, Harry hugged his father good bye before stepping back. “You know I have to do this, but I have the advantage here, they won’t know what hit them. Besides I’ll be back soon, I’m just going to reacquaint myself with the wizarding world for a day by getting my school supplies. I’ll be back tonight for dinner, I won’t let anyone know who I am until I’m ready.” Turning, he waved his hand and summoned his bottomless rucksack. Throwing it over his shoulder, he grabbed his cloak and walked out of the entrance of the cave he had called his home for so many years.


In a large stone mansion, Lucious Malfoy was giving the last of his instructions to the room of Death Eaters in front of him. “Everything should be in place, so no one will expect the attack. Leave the muggle loving fool to our master, as for the others, keep the students and faculty alive unless provoked, they will be useful for either hostages or recruits. You have your orders, now go.”

Malfoy snickered evilly as he watched his fellow brethren leave. Everything was going according to plan; Dumbledore wouldn’t know what hit him. After the last of the Death Eaters were gone, he went to the master suite and knocked. After being admitted, he knelt down in front of the large stone desk that dominated the large room. A pale, deformed figure sat behind the desk going over maps and making plans.

“Isss everything ready” A high pitched voice asked.

“Yes, my lord, everything is going as expected, we are only waiting for your orders.” Malfoy answered nervously.

“Good, you are to appear asss expected at the opening feast in a weeksss time. Midway through the feast we will come, do not disssappoint me, Malfoy.” Lord Voldemort hissed as he returned his attention to the maps in front of him.


“…let the feast begin.” Dumbledore boomed as he sat back down to dig into his own meal.

“So what are your plans for your class, Professor Malfoy?” Dumbledore inquired between bites

“Oh, well, first I was thinking of seeing where each individual class is at. From what I have heard from Draco, the last six teachers in this position have been complete and utter morons. I will probably start from the basics and work my way up.” Malfoy answered calmly, despite the quickening of his pulse.

The rest of the time passed quickly with small talk among the teachers and students. The only mishap seemed to be when a bushy haired girl and a tall, red headed boy began to argue over proper table manners.

Halfway through the feast, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open as Death Eaters began to pour in and attack. Dumbledore jumped to his feet and began to shoot spells at the never ending invaders.

At this time, Malfoy and Snape had slunk from the table and were now assisting the Death Eaters in stunning the occupants, while the rest of the faculty were busy helping Dumbledore defend the students.

Suddenly, the fighting stopped as Voldemort walked into the room. Dressed in the traditional battle robes of nobility, he shot fear into everyone’s heart as he allowed his raw power to show. A black fog seemed to envelope him with every step as he calmly strode towards Dumbledore.


A little earlier that night, as a small family sat eating their dinner that night, Harry suddenly dropped his fork into his stew as the great grandfather clock in the corner began to chime.

“Hogwarts! Oh no, I forgot the time! Dad, why didn’t you remind me! I’m going to be late, and my very first day too!”

His father looked on in resignation, as he watched Harry frantically get up from his chair to gather his things. “Alright, alright, it was worth a try.” He sighed as he got up from his chair as well and walked over to a small closet. Reaching inside he brought out a small cedar chest, and unlocked it with a key that he had around his neck. When he opened the lid he pulled out a blood red cloak with gold edging and lining. “Godric gave me this when he died, he knew that one day his descendants would have to fight Slytherin’s again. I had hoped that this day would never come, but it appears fate has her own plans. And I know that you will be facing this Voldemort soon enough.”

“You aren’t going to see me off?” Harry asked in a small voice as he took the offered cloak, giving his father the patented puppy eyes that had worked so often in the past.

“You know that I can’t go with you, I don’t have the power to break through the barrier again like I did when I rescued you from your relative’s porch.” The older man replied sadly, but pasted a smile on his face as he turned to Harry. “Besides, no one would leave me in peace if they ever found out that I am still alive. You might want to join me here when you are finished with Voldemort - that is if you don’t mind the constant admiration and fame.”

Harry nodded in acceptance as he pulled his cloak on and grabbed his faithful ‘bulging at the seams’ rucksack. Hugging his father good bye, Harry swiftly strode out the door to a place where he could apparate to Hogsmead.

Merlin, the greatest sorcerer ever known, watched the boy he had raised since he was a baby walk out of the cave entrance. He knew that there was a chance that he may never be able to see his son again, but he could not interfere with fate any more than he already had without dire consequences for everyone involved. Besides, after everything he had taught the boy, he might have actually pitied the foolish Voldemort if he didn’t despise him so much.
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