FicWad

Harry closed the door behind him, the last one of them walking away briskly, trying as best as she could to fix her disheveled appearance. He allowed himself a small smirk of victory as his pores wheezed, desperate for air. Harry couldn't blame them, it had been a tad bit cramped, but it was the best he could do with the setting he was currently in.

There was a slight lurch, a pack of crackers on a steel table a few feet away from him fell to the floor, Harry picked it up and pocketed it. He was hungry, but he'd have to wait until he could find some cheese. He could have summoned said cheese (food could not be conjured, but you could summon it if you knew were it was, and Harry was pretty sure Rome had some cheddar somewhere), but he wouldn't risk the plane crashing or blowing up or turning into a turnip.

His wand was currently stowed away in a suitcase, several layers of shopping bag reinforced with old t-shirts separating it from the rest of the empty case, which had been cleared of all electronic items almost the moment it had been acquired.

Harry sat down on his seat, putting the safety belt on and returning to his crossword puzzle, he'd only been able to answer one as of now (number 5, across). He was surprised he had even been able to fill that one out, his incomplete muggle education dictating that he should be an ignorant fuck of all things not dealing with magic.

"I tell you, I've seen men do one, heck I've seen a man do two, but all four at once!" Whispered a verily impressed old man, he had been annoying Harry with stories alternating between his favorite granddaughter, whom Harry would obviously love to meet (she was half his age, not to mention fat, as proven by legilimency) and his soon to be finished thesis on jellyfish reproduction.

He was bald, tufts of gray hair on the sides and back; he had round glasses and a fat, egg shaped head. He was slightly overweight, with yellowing misshapen teeth; he had been sipping on a can of coke for the past hour or so.

“I remember when I was a lad, handsome bugger I was,” He said with a faraway look in his eyes, yellow teeth glowing under the light of the small reading light.

“Very wild those times were. The country was at war, so there was no one bothering' to enforce the rules, had people with multiple partners, shagging cousins, sodomizing each other. Why I remember I lost my virginity when I was eight years old, looked like a mule that woman did, yelled like one too, come to think of it, she was quite hairy, and she had a very tail-like behind, and...”

Harry decided now was the time to turn him off, as the old man began to reminisce, stowing the still half-full can in his pocket. Harry ignored the dark looks sent his way; many people had been buzzing the assist button for maybe 30 minutes, none of the four stewardesses being available to assist.

“ Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking, we will be landing in London Heathrow Airport in approximately 20 minutes, local time 5:20 P.M. After we land one Mr. Will Sexton and one Mr. Heathrow Bridges are to be taken to airport security for questioning”

Harry hid a snort; he had devised a simple plan so that Will Sexton would never set foot on the landing dock. He wondered why the old man, who seemed to have stiffened slightly, would be in trouble.

He looked out the window over the shoulder of the now heavily breathing old man. The clouds were very... white. He mused that for all his broomstick devotion when he was younger he'd never flown inside a cloud, he'd need to change that soon.

It would definitely relieve the stress of getting to England. He had ruled out international portkey; he wanted to get into the country in a non-magical way as an international portkey, illegal one at that, would have been sensed and investigated by the important people. Besides, airplane travel was probably much more comfy than the horrid gut-wrenching feeling of portkey. The horrible films, food and magazines had almost made him yearn for the innards-ripped-out sensation of portkey travel, if it hadn't been for the great service.

Once he'd found the airport, he'd figured it'd be a thing of sneaking on the plane and that'd be it. His first plan had been just that, disillusioning himself and following a random traveler around. It worked perfectly (not counting the many burnt out televisions and radios he left in his wake) until he reached the metal detector. He didn't have any metal on him, so he waltzed through without any thought.

The machine sent off an array of sparks before blowing up and injuring five people, canceling all outgoing flights in that area of the airport.

He then tried out a simpler plan, apparating straight into the plane. Thankfully he disapparated out of the plane quickly enough to survive the explosion with only a few minor scratches.

Coming in with the baggage worked long enough until it had to go through the x-ray machine (He'd thought only the handbags went through that tosh), and disguising himself as a rich (obliviated) man's pet exotic feline worked long enough until airport staff said he needed to be neutered to go on the flight.

In the end, he prevailed over the technological beast as he stunned a dude outside of the airport, stole his passport (and gave him a good mind rape to find the needed information) and went to a nice man who got his picture on the passport for a reasonable price (reasonable to Harry because he could just conjure the cash). Two weeks later, 40 year old Will Sexton was returning to his wife and kids after visiting his parents in Austin.

The plane landed, people applauding as the captain warned them to keep their seatbelts on until they'd stopped completely. As people stood up and reached for their overhead luggage, Harry noted amusedly that the annoying old man was pale and sweaty.

As the doors opened, two bulky men in black jackets came in, glaring mostly at the old man, Harry noticed. People seemed to be intimidated, sitting back down and looking at their laps until the men passed them, when they swiveled around on their seats and waited for the action.

Harry decided this was the perfect moment to take his leave. He stood up.

"Gentlemen" He nodded curtly to the thugs, who didn't seem to be paying him much mind. He had already taken his bag so he strolled towards the back of the plane. Carefully pulling his wand out of the bag as he walked. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled a lever, which caused the emergency door to fall, immediately a slide rolled down towards the floor.

Harry bypassed the slide, jumping down on the concrete. Eight men, wearing jackets similar to the two on the plane, with rifles pointed at his chest and face, met him.

He simply shrugged, looked around, thankful that at the spot he was in no one in the airport would be able to get a good look. He swished his wand and the round inside each barrel shot through the back. The lucky ones got it through the cranium, though there was one unfortunate that had lowered the rifle, and was now flopping on the ground holding his neck. HA! Magic 1, muggle technology 0

A commotion brought Harry out of his silent contemplation of his work. The old man had jumped off the plane. The two thugs were chasing him, grabbing at the back of his collar, when they saw the dead bodies of their comrades.

The old man took that opportunity to pull out the can of coke, which had been cut in two halves. Harry watched mesmerized as the old man slit both thugs throats with the sharp ends of each half.

As the old codger began his jog, he winked at Harry; none of the past senility present, and said "I owe you one".

Watching him run off, Harry shook his head before apparating away.

Walking up to the leaky cauldron, Harry couldn't help but notice the fear that dominated muggle London. Apparently, the murder of ten security guards in the airport was only the most recent of many tragedies, including the unexplained explosion of a British airways jet.

Many people were weary of terrorism.

He entered the bar, disappointed to find it much the same as it had always been; dark and gloomy. It was suspiciously empty for it to be near the end of summer, when it should be bustling with Hogwarts students and their families. There was something eerie in the atmosphere, and before Harry could put his finger on it, a floating dark cloaked figure put its wand to his temple.

Shocked that he had been taken by surprise, he went to draw his wand only to find some foreign magic holding him in place, nothing he couldn't break out of, but it would be nigh impossible for even a skilled wizard.

"State your business" Rasped the familiar voice of Mad-eye Moody. Harry paled, looking into the cloak, hoping to find the grizzled aurors mangled face, but the hood was pitch black, and Harry was pretty sure that the thing was floating in mid-air.

Feeling strong compulsive magic, he answered "I'm just taking a look around" He felt the magic scan him, probably for sincerity, and raised his oclumency shields, hoping that the magic would be fooled.

It didn't work, and after noticing the shields he felt a battering ram bash into the side of his skull. Not panicking, thankful that the magic prevented him from stumbling, he lowered them slightly and sent through his wishes to explore the alley. The magic evaluated them, thankfully not sophisticated enough to notice that he was hiding much more. Satisfied, it relinquished its hold on him.

Harry blinked twice upon seeing the leaky cauldron, full and bustling with chatting families. It had its usual dark and gloomy charm, but it was a ways away from the vision he'd been treated to just minutes before.

Embarrassed that he'd been duped by such illusions, he went and took a seat on a barstool. He was happy to see Tom the bartender approach him.

“What’ll you be having?” He asked whilst cleaning out a mug with a ragged cloth.

“Ummm, I’d like a butterbeer” Tom returned with the drink seconds later. He looked at Harry and said:

“Not to interfere or anything, but you seem flustered Mr...” Tom said.

Harry looked up at him, quickly choosing what name he was going to go by from now on.

“Eustace Horowitz” Was his reply. He almost instantly wanted to clock himself in the jaw. He could have picked anything from Max Fightmaster to Duncan Steel, and he chose that.

“Aren’t you a bit too young to be called Eustace?” Tom question.

‘Eeerm, my friends call me... Ace” Said Harry lamely

“Riiiiight” Tom said with a raised brow. “Well Mr. Horowitz, what’s got you so bothered?”

“Well, what’s up with that thing at the entrance” Said Harry, making sure to not let Tom know he knew perfectly well what it was.

“Oh, you mean the security ward” He said with humor in his voice

“err, yes, that” Harry replied

“You’re not from around here are you” It wasn’t a question

“No, I’m a tourist, American” Harry said

“I figured you were, what with your accent” Tom said “I’m guessing you don’t have anything like that in America” Harry shook his head. Tom chuckled lightly.

“Yeah well, no offense but your people don’t know a thing about how it feels to be at war” He cleared his throat. The patrons were being served by a host of charmed objects.

“Ever since Madame Bones became minister, way back in 80, the ministry’s been taking a much more active approach against you-know-who”

“That’s one of the many safety measures we‘ve got around here, don’t hold up against his more experienced followers, but it keeps most of them out” Tom said “Hasn’t been an attack on the alley in 12 years. Of course that ain’t stopping you-know-who, he just attacks wizarding homes individually now. We lost many a good people that way, but its safer than it used to be” Said Tom neutrally. “Before Madame took office, people were running around panicking, Aurors were a disorganized lot” He paused “Now, now it’s slightly better, people are better prepared, everyone’s on their toes”

Walking to the brick entrance, Harry mulled over the information. It seemed this wizading world was better prepared for Voldemort than his own ever was. Looking at all the people walking around the alley, he saw that most of them had their wands stashed in places where they could pull the out quickly, though not many had holsters. There were aurors posted at many intervals, and everything seemed more organized.

Despite all this, Voldemort still struck fear in the hearts of many, as Tom had used “you-know-who”. There was also the fact that there wasn’t any boy-who-lived in this world, or he hadn’t been marked yet, because Voldemort’s reign had been uninterrupted.

As Harry reached the end of the alley, he was met with a dead end. What used to be the entrance to knockturn was now a slab of concrete.

“You need to know how to get in” Said a raspy voice. An old hag “The ministry thinks it can stamp us out, but we’re a resilient bunch”

‘Thinks it can block the entrance to our home, it does, but we’re smarter than those buffoons” She said, looking at him with her one leery yellow eye that was intended to scare.

“Run along now you, the alley is no place for your kind” She hissed, raising her cane.

Harry rolled his eyes as the cane sprang to life and became a serpent. If the hag expected him to shit his pants she was sorely disappointed when he slashed his wand forward and the snake was turned inside out.

The hag’s eye widened, she seemed to hold in a barf before she ran right through the solid brick wall.

Harry didn’t follow, if the hag was their idea of a guardian Knockturn alley was just as worthless as it had previously been.

Returning to the now thinning crowd in diagon, Harry was met with a problem. Now that he’d reached England, now that he’d actually gotten here, he didn’t know what to do.

Of course, there was much to do, he could fight Voldemort, begin his life anew, find out what happened to loved ones in this universe. He just didn’t know where to start, he couldn’t simply wait out here in the alley until someone he recognized came and he could say “Hey I knew you in another world, wanna give me something to do?”

Deciding to get some background knowledge before making a move, he’d go to the ministries archives to asses the current situation better. For tonight, he’d find a nice cave in which to sleep alone.

Harry yawned as he closed the Daily Prophet for June 13, 1995.

Researching this world’s history had been tedious work. Security at the ministry was unbelievably tight, even at the time of day he had chosen to enter (late afternoon). He had actually been forced to use some of his best sneaking techniques to dodge the many security measures implemented.

What he had found hadn’t been very enlightening. There was nothing at all about boy’s-who-lived or prophecies, the dark lord hadn’t even personally visited any family on Halloween 1980 (or any other day of that year, for that matter). Through the articles he could piece out that James Potter was head auror, but he wasn’t important to get a mention of family or friends.

The only mention of Weasleys was in the obituaries, were Charlie Weasley was listed as having died just last year from wounds sustained after a dragon rampage. At Hogwarts there was nothing about tournaments, secret chambers or anything of the sort, unless you counted a recent Death Eater attack on Hogsmead weekend, which left four students dead.

Overall, there wasn’t anything radically different, just that this ministry was partially competent. It had nothing specific on current hogwarts staff or particular death eaters.

Heading towards the atrium, being watched suspiciously by the many paintings, each of them having a small crater protruding from their frames, which they used for limited spellcasting. He had dropped any stealth once he had been well away from the archives.

As he joined the small queue to leave the ministry, a bored looking wizard with his wand holstered to his waist looked at him.

“I didn’t see you come in Sir” He said with a tired expression. It was obvious he was required to say this.

“I’ve been here since morning sir” He decided to add “I’m researching the differences in cauldron thickness between northeaster and southeaster…”

“It’s all right, it’s all right, move along now” He said as he walked away quickly.

Putting up security measures was easy, enforcing them was the hard part. As Harry handed his wand to the man at the middle of the queue for inspection, he was surprised when a small slip of paper said “11 inches, holly, phoenix feather”

As the portly man handed him his wand, Harry looked at it transfixed. This couldn’t possibly be his old wand. He hadn’t seen it in years (It had been lost in the Himalayas, 13 years ago) but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t a greenish color and it definitely didn’t look like it had been plucked off a tree by a sedated gorilla.

“Would you hurry up you little shit!” Said a voice behind him. Harry growled, he was almost 38 years old for fucks sake, no one called him a little shit!

Turning around, he was chest to face with a short man. He had a trimmed white beard adjoined to unkempt white hair. He looked to be sixty, hardly that old for a wizard. He wore an eccentric orange bathrobe, bunny slippers and a fluffy sequined nightcap with a furry ball at the end.

“What, late for your eleven o’clock appointment with a four year old girl?” Was Harry’s reply

“O ho ho ho, consider yourself a comedian do you boy” The pajama clad man chided “Well I’ve seen quite a few in my day, and your're almost as bad as Daneius the Cooker”

Harry didn’t know a thing about history, he hated it in fact, but he was pretty sure that wizards stopped putting ‘the’ in the middle of their names centuries ago.

“well, you’re definitely senile enough to qualify as an old fart” Harry said, starting to unsheathe his wand. He never could turn down a chance for a fight

‘You're fixing for a lesson you little punk!” He said, brandishing his wand.

Before any of the aurors or security personnel could react, the old man had sent a nasty purple curse at Harry, whom barely jumped out of the way.

He didn’t allow himself to be shocked by the gimps speed as he sent a powerful sonic boom in his direction.

The gimp conjured an elaborate shield, which held firm as the shockwaves cracked the stone walls of the ministry. Many of the portraits used this moment to shoot off blindly, sending stunning spells and binding hexes around the room.

Harry brought his wand down with force, cleaving the shield cleanly in half. The gimp simply flicked his wand once, and the shield halves were animated to rotate around him.

As he sent a powerful burst of poison, Harry ducked under a red spell, which changed route and followed him. Rolling to the side Harry was disconcerted when not only did it continued to pursue him, but another spell had joined it.

Getting a small glimpse of the old man, he saw that the poison hadn’t even scratched the shield, and that he seemed content to watch as Harry tried escaping the balls of magic.

Getting annoyed, Harry sent a curse to collide with one of the red balls, which promptly dodged out of the way at the last moment. His curse instead collided with one of the stunning spells being sent by the portraits, which were wearing themselves out, and sadly beheaded a poor ministry official.

Harry took a gamble, hoping that the two masses of light were the type of seeking spells he though they were, and performed a mild blood-chilling curse on himself. The two curses stopped in mid-air for a second, before going for the warmest thing in the small radius, each other. Canceling the curse and trying to control his body’s spasms of pain he grinned at the gimps shocked face.

Behind the man, ministry officials and many aurors, Harry couldn’t see James Potter and he didn’t care at the moment, were crowding around, wands at the ready. The gimp looked back and gave them a dark look, and they all shrunk, holstering their wands.

Harry was shocked to say the least, How did this chump have power over this (less) corrupt ministry?

“ I see you’re smart enough to have though they were heat-seeking spells, instead of magic-seekers” This wasn’t said with much respect “I’d never thought that there was still some young punk competent at magic” He paused, contemplating him. “You would have made a wonderful role model for today’s lazy youth, if you weren’t about to die”

They exchanged opening volleys, the short man nimbly twisting around of spells that bypassed his rotating shields, not even moving his feet.

Harry had a rougher time, ducking and sliding out of the way of some nasty looking curses. When he was faced with one he couldn’t dodge, he conjured a shield of marble. The spell was within inches of impacting the shield when it broke into dozens of smaller spells. Harry growled in frustration as he sped up his casting, conjuring small rocks to collide with all but one of the fragments, which striked him in the arm and made a small cut.

The man had already been casting, sending three large wooden stakes in his direction. Harry didn’t even attempt using fire, instead a lengthy chain shot out of the end of his wand, which wrapped around one of the stakes. Harry swung in a circle, taking the heavy stake with him, and crashing it against the second stake, pulverizing both. Releasing the chain from the tip of his wand, it wrapped around the third stake and flew towards the man, who with one flick caused the chain to constrict the wood until it exploded.

Harry banished the shards of the now shattered stake towards the old man, getting to work on the heavy artillery.

Beginning to draw a rune in the air, Harry’s work was paused when a huge suit of armor came out of nowhere, brandishing it’s sword at him.

Harry had to erase the rune as the tip of the sword cut through the skin on his forehead. Looking at the soulless knight’s eyes, he knew this was a variant of his gargoyle trick.

The man brought his wand to the floor, dozens of sinister looking roots springing from the spot were the wand had touched.

Harry blew a rough breath as he sent a blast of water to the floor, propelling himself upward. Some roots lashed up at him, while others made a platform for the knight to ascend on.

Harry cast a freezing charm on the water, standing on a slippery cliff. Knowing he didn’t have much time before the vines shattered the ice he conjured a snake, a large constrictor with something protruding out of its stomach.

He let the snake fall on the knight, who sliced its head off with his sword. The headless body fell to the ground and laid in silence, until an infernal buzzing filled the room.

The crowd behind the old man watched in fear as hundreds of wasps burst out of the dead snake. They swarmed the knight, who tried striking one with his sword, only for it to be broken in half.

This had been one of Harry’s inventions, having gotten the idea from his mother’s protection. The conjured snake was pregnant with a horde of wasps. When anything killed the snake, the wasps would emerge and attack their mother’s killer, who was unable to harm them because of their mother's sacrifice.

It had been a complicated piece of magic, especially with having to give the conjured creatures emotions for entirely different species. The gimp seemed to know this, as he helped the vines in trying to decimate the wasps, which had already dismantled the knight.

As they were distracted, Harry quickly wrote the rune, hoping that the huge tax on his magic would be worth it.

He thrust his wand forward through the middle of the rune, which glowed a bright orange before disappearing. Looking down, nothing seemed to have changed, but he knew from the crowd’s panicked look that it had worked.

Their field of vision was now distorted, the previously clear picture now looking like it had been ripped to pieces and glued back together by a five year old.

Harry jumped from the ice tower, landing on his feet. He set some fiendfyre to take care of the writhing roots, and walked calmly up to the confused old man.

He was beginning to wonder why the old man had rubbed his eye for the fifth consecutive time before he received a punch to the jaw.

To his right was something that looked like the old man, only he was flitwick short, had a roundish body and for some reason a humped back. Harry froze as a rather green looking pudgy fist connected with his temple.

“…Obliviated them all I did, told Bones that if she didn’t allow herself to be mind-wiped nicely, I’d have to do it rough” Said a voice

“Like you even could anymore” Came a second voice.

A yawn was heard in perfect harmony with a growl as the second voice, female, spoke

“well he’s awake now anyways, ask whatever you’re going to ask quickly, I haven’t been off that couch in years and it feel uncomfortable to be in a chair”

“Maybe if you got some exercise you slag”

“Look who’s talking Mr. Doesn’t-walk-without-magical-slippers”

There was a grumble before the familiar voice said “Open your eyes you little brat”

Harry was considering his options when his eyes where forcibly slammed open. He felt his eyeballs burn from the immediate flow of light charging at them. He shook his head and sat up on what he found to be a very comfy if not funky-smelling couch.

Sitting in two chairs in front of him were his captors. To the right was the gimp, dressed just like he had been last night (at least I hope it was last night). Upon closer inspection, Harry could smell that he looked like he hadn’t bathed in a while. To his left there was a woman, of similar age to the man, with graying hair tied in a messy bun. She looked like McGonagall, if McGonagall were slightly older and paid absolutely no mind to how she looked. She was wearing an old lady special, the wide nightgown with flower patterns, red sandals clashing with the green gown.

The room he was in looked like a normal living room, except for the obvious signs of neglect. There was a table in the background filled with half-full plates with food in various states of decomposition. The floor was littered with trash and old looking rolls of parchment.

Harry was about to open his mouth when the gimp spoke “You’re at our house, in the middle of nowhere” He said with a gruff voice, which sounded strange coming from such a short man.

“This is my wife Perenelle, my name is Nicholas Flamel”

Harry wished he had been drinking something so that he could have spit it out, looking at the two of them, to think that this slob was Dumbledore mentor was ridiculous.

“I see you’ve heard of me” He said whilst his wife began removing the dead skin from her feet.

“Yeah, you’re the one who made the philosophers stone” Was Harry’s reply

“Oh please, I’m sure you know more than you’re letting on” The man said in an attempt at a friendly voice, failed.

“ummm” Actually, Harry didn’t know a thing about Flamel other than he was an alchemist.

“I guess you don’t” He said, sounding disappointed “We’ll let me get to the point, who taught you that magic, are you one of Albuses kids?”

The mention of a certain Headmaster seemed to perk Perenelle up “Oooh yes, are you one of Albies kids?” She asked excited “Such a strapping young lad, if only he hadn’t turned out to be such a poof” Nicholas frowned at his wife’s praise of Dumbledore

“Haven’t seen the child in over a century, got mighty scared when I pushed his hand down my bra” She reminisced

“umm, no, I’m not anything of Albuses” She seemed to deflate at that

“But you know him, if you are on first name terms with the boy” Flamel said

Harry remained silent, wondering what he could tell these people. Nicholas, despite his six plus centuries of life, lost his patience quickly and sent a legilimency probe at Harry’s mind. Harry tried protecting his mind, but stopping the probe was like catching water in an open palm, and very soon Harry found Flamel exiting his mind after finding out all he needed.

“I see, Mr. Potter” Perenelle’s smile returned

“Charlus Potter?! Oh I remember when I threw one of my panties in your face, I never thought I’d see you or your wife again. How’s Dorothea anyways? Still have that rash? Hows…”

“Charlus Potter died in sixteen-twenty-seven” Flamel said through gritted teeth

“Did he, oh my I better send my condolences to poor Thea, she must be pained” Perenelle said stricken

“Dorothea died in sixteen-nineteen” Said a now fuming Flamel

“Listen could you do this later” said an annoyed Harry, who decided he’d just get this over with now that Flamel knew everything about him.

“Yes, Mr. Potter” Nicholas Flamel straightened up “I see that you’ve been questing for knowledge, for power” He paused for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts

“No matter how many tribes or ancient temples you visit, nothing in this world compares to the magical education I could provide. Under my tutoring, in a few decades you could be the most powerful wizard in the past dozen centuries, without the need for any more unnecessary rituals” Harry couldn’t believe it, just like that, Nicholas Flamel was offering him an apprenticeship!

“Y-you’re gonna make me your apprentice, j-just like that?” Harry stuttered

“Of course not! You really think I’m charitable enough to help a weak little shit like you for no reason?” He said with malice

“What do you need me for?” Harry asked through gritted teeth

“I need you to help me-“ Flamel looked at his wife “-us, die”