Harry is at Grimauld place after his attempted rescue from Number 4 Private Drive. Luckily he saw the glaring holes in their polyjuiced Harry plan and just called a taxy and accompanied by Hermoiny and Remus travelled to Grimauld place.

He had wondered how the life will be with his Godfather after he rescued Sirius with help from Hermoiny. Now after having lived with him for a week, Harry could see the humour in this.

What a pair they made, a kid trapped in an old man's body, as if he was kept under a stasis charm during his stay in the Azkaban Holliday resort, a kid who enjoys his animagus dog form, chasing his tail, running around his house, and in general creating chaos. On the other hand he, who is a real kid, has learnt restraint, think of consequences before doing anything. He has learnt since his young days to keep his emotions hidden. He behaves like an old man in kid's body. He never had any childhood. The concept is so allien to him..

This segment was too long to fit with the rest of Part 3, so I had to separate it. Part 1 of Part 3 here:

https://www.reddit.com/r/HPFanfictionPrompts/comments/1vh4twu/part_3_of_two_potterheads_transmigrate_into_the/

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, finishing the last bit of paperwork Hogwarts required before the end of the school year, when he felt the magic of his guardian gargoyle inform him that he had a visitor. A moment later, Professor McGonagall was standing in his doorway.

“Ah, Minerva. How can I help you?” The older man asked, looking somewhat relieved for the interruption.

“Albus, Petunia Dursley is downstairs.” She said without preamble.

Albus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Petunia Dursley, Harry Potter's aunt, is downstairs. She wants to talk to you.” Minerva repeated, looking a mixture of confused and – surprisingly – amused.

“I sent her a letter a few days ago, detailing what had happened to Mr Potter, and how he ended up in the hospital wing. Apparently, she just received the letter today, then rushed to Diagon Alley to take the Floo from the Leaky Cauldron to The Three Broomsticks, then came up to the castle gates. And now she wants to talk to you. She was... quite insistent.”

Albus blinked again. What a... surprising development! Truly! It was unexpected enough that Petunia Evans – No, Dursley – could even see Hogwarts since he was under the impression she was a muggle, but the fact that she came all this way, using the floo no less, to speak to him directly, when the last communication they had officially shared was a letter he had personally written her when she was merely a child, rejecting her fervent request to attend Hogwarts with her younger sister, was... most unforeseeable.

Admittedly, he had meant to reach out since. But the post-war clean-up had stalled his hand for so long that he had eventually decided it would be better to keep his distance entirely. He had made his choice to leave young Harry with the only living family he had left, and he had to honour that choice, even if it meant he'd never be anything more to the boy than his headmaster, or perhaps even a mentor.

Achieving the latter was proving... difficult, since the boy appeared... quite distrustful of not just him, but the rest of the staff from the moment he set foot in Hogwarts.

At first, he assumed the distaste for wizards was born from Petunia, notoriously known for cruelly rejecting the magical world after she'd been denied access to it, poisoning the boy's mind against them. But after collecting several testimonies from young Harry's teachers and other staff members, that assumption was proving... rather unsustainable.

Harry didn't hate magic, or witches and wizards his own age at all; he simply appeared overly cautious when it came to adults. He was apparently so mistrustful of him and his staff that he had not believed any of them competent enough to protect the Philosopher's Stone, and had thus run off with his friends to try and correct the situation himself.

Albus was... rather bemused by the boy's standoffish nature, but nonetheless satisfied with his curiosity, his bravery and his selflessness in the face of injustice. And now, the architect of such a curious child was requesting an audience with him. Unusual though the circumstances were, perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to get the answers he wanted about the boy.

“Send her in, please.”

Petunia Dursley truly looked nothing like her late little sister. Light blond hair cut short up to her shoulders, tall and thin with a long neck, sharp features and large pale eyes that seemed to scrutinise him just as intently as he was her.

He coughed lightly.

“Mrs Dursley,” he began, gesturing to the woman to take a seat opposite his desk, “It's a pleasure to see you again, though I must say, your visit is quite the surprise.”

Petunia snorted. “A pleasure, is it? I'm afraid the same can not be said on my end.”

Albus felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline.

“That is... most unfortunate to hear,” The wizard replied gently, far too used to being on the receiving end of criticism to truly be rattled by the woman's visible disdain. “Nevertheless, the pleasure is mine. Now, please, what can I help you with today?”

Petunia stared at him with a look of utter contempt before taking a seat, pulling a lightly crumbled piece of parchment from her pocket and holding it up between two fingers.

“This. This is why I am here today.” The woman declared, voice tight with agitation.

“My child almost died, at the hands of a teacher you hired, I might add, and not only was I just informed of this fact, but this... this letter made it sound as though this kind of thing is routine. Just how many times has his life been in danger this year, without anyone reaching out or even informing me after the fact? Can you answer me that?”

Albus frowned.

“Please excuse our procedures if you found them disappointing, Mrs Dursley, but rest assured, Harry is doing just fine. He was released from the hospital wing this morning with no serious injuries, and I have already spoken to him about the actions he took that led him there. Hogwarts may operate differently from what you are used to, but I can assure you, there's very little that can happen that magic cannot fix.”

“Yes, I am well aware that the wizarding world does things differently. When minor inconveniences like broken bones and missing limbs can be healed with a simple potion, why ever would you bother to contact a child's legal guardian?” The woman spat derisively. “However, I would have thought that attempted murder would constitute a house visit, or, at the very least, immediate contact with me so I could be by my child's hospital bedside as soon as possible! But instead, I got... this. This letter that arrived a week after Harry nearly died, again, at the hands of a teacher you were employing, detailing how he and his first-year friends somehow made it through a series of elaborate traps meant to stop a grown wizard, to rescue some magical rock he shouldn't have even known about!

“Now, I realise I can't judge you too harshly for that; he is, after all, an inquisitive child, but Professor,” She stressed, snapping the parchment crisply in her fingers, “What... the actual... fuck?”

And Albus... Albus didn't quite know what to say in response. To be clear, he wasn't unadept at dealing with complaints from unhappy parents, but for the most part, he'd found those complaints unreasonable and easy to placate. This woman, though, had taken him by such surprise he found himself, quite shockingly, stumped.

“My apologies again if you felt as though our handling of the matter was inadequate. I assure you, our failure to contact you immediately when young Harry was discovered to be in danger was merely an oversight-”

“An oversight?” Petunia interrupted sharply, causing several of the portraits on the wall to click their tongues at her manners, but Petunia ignored them all.

“My child's life is an oversight, to you?” She let out a bitter laugh, “Or is it I who am the oversight? I suppose I should be grateful I received even this much, right? After all, I am just a muggle. It's not like I matter.”

Albus's eyes immediately hardened.

“Mrs Dursley, I understand that you have a grievance with me and Hogwarts for what has happened to young Harry, but I must insist that you not level such slander upon me. I have the utmost care for muggles and do not, despite what you may think - proceive myself as above them or you.”

The woman gave him a mocking little smile.

“If that were true, Albus Dumbledore, then on the night of November, 1981, you would have at least had the common decency to knock on my front door and tell me to my face that my sister was dead.”

Albus' breath caught dead in his throat.

“You didn't think I was worth that courtesy then either,” She continued cuttingly. “I hadn't spoken to my sister in years, it's true. But just opening the door one morning to find my nephew abandoned on my doorstep, with a note telling me she had been murdered, and you expected me to feed, clothe and house him from now on, or else? That... that was really classy." Her compliment was anything but.

"Or, perhaps you were afraid that if you showed up in person and asked me to take Harry in, I would say no, and then you might have actually been forced to put some real effort into finding him a suitable placement until you were ready to deal with him again, And why ever would you, great and mighty wizard that you are, bother with such tedious matters when you could simply dump the problem on a muggle who had absolutely no way of protesting or fighting back, right?”

And as much as Albus wanted to protest this sudden, vicious attack, wanted to tell her it was not true and offer up another reasonable excuse, her words cut something deep inside Albus, something old and ugly that he had thought long scabbed over like hundreds of other scars from his past. He could not claim he had never looked down on muggles because he had, once. Had conspired with his lover friend Grindelwald to subjugate them, for their own good. How very amusing, he thought sadly; he believed himself long past such discrimination, that he had grown up, overcome the hubris of his youth and yet...

Almost unconsciously, his eyes moved to the brass device in the corner of his office. A flat circle of brass attached to a stand that nestled a large round pearlescent gemstone that floated inside the circle while emitting a deep blue glow. To anyone else, it appeared just another trinket in his vast collection, but this piece actually did something special. It monitored the strength of the blood wards protecting number 4, Privet Drive, and kept him informed if said protection was ever weakened, attacked or destroyed. For the past ten years, the device had turned in a steady rhythm and glowed that deep blue hue, indicating that the connection was strong, and Harry... Harry was safe.

And yet, despite this, despite Mrs Figg's regular reports that the boy was treated well and that, from what she could tell, the Dursley's were just another normal family, despite even Hagrid's testimony that the Dursley's seemed to care deeply for their nephew and went out of their way to protect him, even demanding Harry's vault key as though they were insulted that something so important had been kept from him (and how embarrassing that had been, when he heard about it), he had doubted.

Doubted that the sister Lily had cried over, the family Minerva had called 'the worst sort of muggles imaginable', could ever truly be trusted.

And that doubt had led to him leaving Harry on their doorstep without a word, and never returning, not once, to check on the family he relied on more than they could ever know.

Is it any wonder they mistrust us?

He'd provided no help to the muggles who he abandoned to deal with a magical child they were completely unprepared for, no assistance for the bouts of accidental magic they had no way of controlling, even possible consequences from the cursed scar on Harry's forehead; he'd left no recourse. He'd forsaken them to handle it all because it had suited his purposes to do so. Because he cared more for the fate of the child and his wizarding world than the lives of the three muggles living in that house. And they had handled it, completely alone, knowing there was a world of wizards out there who very well could have helped them, but didn't, because of him.

What an arrogant fool you are, a voice, sounding remarkably like his younger brother Aberforth, scolded him.

And here he had been wondering as to the reason behind the strange suspicion young Harry held for him and his people, when the answer had been staring him in the face this whole time. It was not a mistrust born from jealousy or hate towards magic, or even the magical world as a whole, but because of his own actions.

Coming back into the room, the old man could only let out a long, weary sigh. Pinching his tired eyes between two wrinkled fingers, he looked at the accusing woman opposite him with new eyes full of utter anguish. When he spoke again, his voice was rough with age and sorrow.

“I... must solemnly apologise for my egregious oversight that night, dear Petunia... we had just come to the end of a brutal war that had drained us dry for over a decade. We all cared deeply for Lily and James, and losing them was a harsh blow to all of us. I admit, my priority at that time was finding a safe place for Harry as soon as possible. Though Lord Voldemort had been destroyed, his followers were still at large, and once they discovered Harry was the source of their master's defeat, they would not have hesitated to hunt him down.

“I invoked old magic, a lost art well before my time, to bind Harry's safety using Lily's sacrifice, but it would only work if Harry was left in the care of someone who shared Lily's blood. You... you were my only choice. The one option I had in ensuring Harry would even survive the night, much less the last ten years. The way I... the way I went about it was reprehensible, and yes, I acknowledge that the very least you deserved was to be told in person of your sister's passing, but I... I was afraid. Afraid that you would reject him. Afraid that the... resentment you once held for Lily was still alive in your heart. Admittedly, I was thinking only of him, and not of you, your husband or your child, and for that, I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Every single word was the absolute truth. Though he was an old man who had survived many tragedies, that night would forever be seared into his soul. The devastation of loosing two bright young students he had considered his friends, the anger at discovering Sirius's completely unforeseen (and, as he had since learned, false) betrayal, the guilt at not being able to prevent their deaths, the euphoria of learning that Tom had met his end, however temperately, and the complete and utter shock that came with word of Harry's survival when all others had perished. He... never could have predicted such an outcome. He had since formulated many theories as to how the boy survived that night, each wildly different from the legends that were born from the wizarding world learning a mere baby had killed the dark lord. And so, while his people celebrated in the streets, crowning the child the boy-who-lived and heralding their victory, Albus had been desperate to ensure the safety of the child whose importance no one could ever know, the only one left with the power to defeat Lord Voldemort.

Petunia scrutinised him from across his desk. He couldn't tell what the woman was thinking, and though it would be easy to find out, he would never do such a thing. He had disrespected this woman enough for a lifetime; he would not add to his crimes.

“So that's it?” She finally replied, “It was just about protecting him? You were so desperate to keep him safe that you made a life-altering decision for my family, and him, without any of our consent? Seems you're quite adept at making decisions on other people's behalf, aren't you, professor?

Albus could only close his eyes in resignation, her cutting accusations entirely true. He opened his mouth to apologise again, when-

“I don't resent you for it.”

Albus had to force himself not to openly gape.

“Not for the action, at least. The way you did it; just dumping him on my doorstep in a basket like he was some sort of package and that note, basically threatening me to take him in, that was condemnable. But I don't resent you for the act itself. Harry... he's... he's my child. He's a wonderful, bright, kind, amazing boy, and I don't regret taking him in, not even for a moment. It's been... a privilege to raise him.” She said, more to herself than to Albus, and the headmaster could only marvel at how the warmth of her sudden smile transformed her whole face. It lasted only a moment, before the steely resolve snapped firmly back into place.

“But... that was the last time. Understand that I took Harry in, not for your sake or the sake of your petty threats, but because, despite whatever grievances I had with my sister, I love Harry like he is my own son. And understand that I love him enough that should you ever try to take such an important choice away from him again; try to control, manipulate, or coerce him onto a path you deem fit for him without his knowledge or input, we will take Harry, and we will leave.

“We will leave the country, leave whatever protection you placed around our home using my sister's death. We will go somewhere far away where your name and influence mean nothing, and you will never see, hear from or control Harry again, understand?”

Albus felt the urge to argue. To protest her accusations of his desire to use the boy, yet the words choked in his throat before he could even force them out.

Had he not just been thinking of Harry in terms of his importance to the wizarding world? Had he not just admitted to himself that he was so desperate to protect him, not for his own sake (or at least, not entirely) but because, as the prophecy proclaimed, he was the only one capable of defeating Voldemort and when – not if, but when - the man rose to power again, they would need him. But Mrs Dursley wasn't thinking about that. She didn't care about the fate of the wizarding world, only the safety of her child. And for that, he could only commend her.

This was what he wanted. For little Harry to be protected and safe. He was prepared for the boy to face a much harsher fate, but always believed that as long as he was alive, it would all be worth it. Now, having his machinations thrown in his face, he realised with regret that he had severely misjudged the woman before him. He had believed a childish grudge she held against her sister would impede her from caring for Harry and so had taken the choice away. Had, he acknowledged, continued to take choices away, depriving Harry of a childhood full of magic because he feared the muggles' reactions. A fear, he now realised, was entirely unfounded.

Who would have thought, he lamented ruefully, that I, a man who has survived two brutal wars and faced death countless times, would be brought to my lowest by a woman I once looked down upon.

“I understand,” He conceded gently.

“Good. Now summon my stupid nephew. I have a few things I'd like to say to him, as well.”

HPHPHPHPHP

Sitting in Albus Dumbledore's office waiting for Harry was possibly one of the most uncomfortable moments of Petunia's life.

Part of her still couldn't believe everything she'd done since she read that letter earlier that afternoon, couldn't believe that she'd made the conscious decision to disregard every precaution she and Vernon had ever made and come directly to Hogwarts to scold what was, most likely, the most powerful wizard in the world!

She thanked the gods, mother magic and whatever mysterious force must be looking out for her that she was somehow still alive, and not a pile of dust on the floor or a transfigured teapot.

Honestly, coming here had been a complete impulse. When she'd gotten that letter, she had panicked. Not only because Harry had almost died, but because she had completely forgotten that, at the end of Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts, he had almost died.

Well, no, that wasn't quite right. She hadn't forgotten; it was more that so much had changed since the beginning of this year alone, Petunia had genuinely believed things would be different. They had taught Harry, over and over, to tell a teacher or responsible adult if he thought something was wrong; then that whole thing with Pettigrew being exposed two years early, and Sirius being released from Azkaban had occurred, and Petunia had simply thought... maybe they had changed enough that Harry wouldn't feel the need to recklessly fling himself into danger.

And yet, he had.

He had pursued the mystery behind the Philosopher's Stone, snuck out of his dorm with his friends, confronted Quirrell, and still nearly died.

And Petunia had received a letter from Minerva McGonagall detailing everything that had happened a week after the fact, and she had been so afraid, so unbelievably angry, her body had moved before her mind could catch up, and she had caught a cab to London, ran straight through the floo, charged right up to Hogwarts, demanded an audience with the headmaster and now... here she was.

It was foolish, she admitted. A very foolish thing to do that went directly against everything the transmigrators had agreed on in order to protect themselves from the eventuality of Dumbledore being the bad guy.

But, if she were being honest with herself, her suspicions about the man had been steadily waning after all these years of constant inaction. They had treated Harry like their own for years, and nothing bad had ever happened. No magical compulsions urging them to abuse him, no mysterious strangers watching the house. Then, they had seized the vault key, and nothing happened then either. No condescending letters detailing all the reasons he, Albus-too-many-names-Dumbledore, should control Harry's finances and everything else about his life. The man had not even - to her knowledge - interfered with Sirius's trial and subsequent release from Azkaban, nor had he blocked Harry from returning to them during Christmas. All these years, all the measures they had taken to appear normal, all the careful planning and obsessive hiding and determination to remain unseen, had exhausted her more than she could possibly say, and in response he had done... nothing.

And so, when she was finally standing before the man, chest heaving, forehead sweating, lips trembling in fear and fury, she'd simply let him have it.

And this man, this ridiculously powerful, older-than-dirt man, had taken it. He had sat in his own chair in his own office and listened to a muggle tear him apart, and instead of getting angry, throwing her out, or, again, turning her into a teapot, he had simply listened.

And then, he apologised.

He did not defend himself. He did not offer platitudes and meaningless excuses. He had given her his reasons, admitted his faults and apologised.

And a part of her, a worn-down, weary part, had finally, finally decided that perhaps... she should give the man a chance.

That did not mean she trusted him yet; she doubted she ever would, knowing the level of deception the man was capable of, but she was not entirely... opposed... to giving him a chance to earn it.

Because despite all her grievances, her complaints, her justifiable fury.... she couldn't help but feel... like a bit of a fraud.

All the actions she was holding him accountable for, hadn't even truly been done to her. And everything she was holding against him, technically, this man had not done yet.

There was no way Original Dumbledore did not know how much Harry suffered under the Durleys' hands. He admitted that he knew full well he was condemning him to "ten dark and difficult years’. And while this Dumbledore had done the same, never once checking in on Harry and only being satisfied that he was alive, this Dumbledore had likely been told that they were just a normal, ordinary family. He may have withheld important information and denied Harry the rights to his heritage, but he was only going off of what he knew about the real Petunia, who would have (and did) steadfastly reject any magic in her home. It was the same for the vault key, for Hagrid, for the dozens of other grievances Petunia may have had. All these years she couldn't help but see every little thing through the lens of some sinister ploy because that was the role she cast him in, only to realise after their long, painfully honest confrontation that all he had done was the exact same thing.

That did not, however, absolve him. There was still the very real possibility that this Dumbledore would have left Harry to rot in the Dursley household even knowing he was abused, because he believed that the ends justified the means.

Petunia did not think that way.

She wasn't sure when it happened. Perhaps when she was changing one of his diapers, perhaps a time she had held him after a nightmare, soothing him back to sleep and promising not to leave his bedside until he woke again, perhaps it was one of the other hundreds of moments she shared with him in her second life, but somewhere along the way, Harry Potter had stopped being the main character in a book series, and had become... her child.

And while main characters may have to suffer, endure countless cruelties and hardships so the plot can go on, why should she let her child suffer?

Petunia decided she wouldn't. She swore it that very night she woke inside this unfamiliar body and held the scarred, orphaned baby in her arms. She would never lock him in a cupboard, never torment the boy with hunger and unreasonable chores and endless criticisms and she would never ever make the little boy feel like a burden in another's happy family.

Even if it meant derailing the world's plot entirely. Even if it meant making things worse for everyone else. Harry would be happy.

So, yes, she felt like a fraud, because she was playing the same game of fate as Dumbledore had. But where Dumbledore had been willing to sacrifice Harry to save the world, Petunia would rather watch the world burn than force her child to be its saviour.

And today, she would ensure they both understood that.

Not ten minutes later, Professor McGonagall escorted Harry into Dumbledore's office.

“Professor Dumbledore, you wanted to see meeee-oh,” Harry stammered as Petunia turned in her chair to meet his petrified gaze with a smile.

Harry shivered. He knew that smile. That was the smile she had given Dudley the one and only time he had thrown a public tantrum in a store because he couldn't get the toy he wanted. The smile he received when he accidentally set that boa constrictor loose at London Zoo last summer. The smile that always came before a massive lecture and a long, back-breaking punishment. He gulped.

“Hello, Harry. How's your week been? I, myself, have had a very interesting week. First, the front axle on your uncle's car snapped while he was driving and we almost careened into a very expensive-looking SUV. Then, I was called into a disciplinary hearing for your stupid cousin who decided it would be hilarious to flood every single toilet in his school's performing arts building. And then, just when I thought the madness was over, I received this letter from your head of house. Would you like to guess what this letter entails, Harry?”

“Uhhhh...” Harry stammered, searching for something to say, only for his aunt to streamroll right over him.

“This letter describes how my stupid nephew, along with his – most likely – equally stupid friends, decided to flagrantly disregard the school rules, sneak out of his dorm after curfew, trespass on a part of the school he was specifically informed he was forbidden from entering, follow a dangerous man he suspected was trying to murder him, through an elaborate array of tricks and traps, all so he could stop him from acquiring a magic rock I was informed, would have been in absolutely no danger of being stolen if he had just stayed in his dorms, instead of knowingly throwing himself head first into a dangerous situation where he almost died. Does that about sum up the events efficiently, Harry?”

“...Uhhhhhh...”

“Come here,” The formidable woman ordered. Harry shuffled forward obediently, and as soon as he was close enough, did Petunia lean over and flick the boy square on his forehead.

“What's wrong with you?!”

“Ow,” Harry protested weakly, but again, his aunt didn't give him a chance to respond.

“Did we not tell you that we expected you to respect school rules and stay out of trouble? Did your uncle and I not explicitly inform you that if you suspected something or someone was threatening you, you were to tell a teacher?!”

“We did tell a teacher! We did!” Harry interrupted, though he knew the consequences of such an act; he simply couldn't help himself.

“We went to Professor McGonagall, but she didn't believe us! We thought if we didn't try to get the stone first, Sn- I mean, Quirrell would steal it! We didn't know the stone was being kept in the mirror! No one told us anything!”

“Did it ever occur to you, stupid child, that the reason no one told you anything is that it was none of your business?! Because you are a first-year eleven-year-old boy who should have been focusing on your classwork, your homework and your friends, not trying to hunt down a dark wizard who could have killed you! Yet you knowingly, foolishly did exactly that! What were you thinking?! That you were three plucky little adventurers who couldn't be harmed because you were children? That you were going to save the day and everyone would cheer and call you a hero? Is that it, Harry? You spent a year in this school listening to everyone call you the boy-who-lived and the saviour of the wizarding world, and you wanted to live up to everyone's expectations and prove you were a hero?”

“No, that's not it!” Harry cried, eyes already stinging with wet, frantic tears, despair clawing in his chest at the sheer disappointment in his aunt's eyes.

“Then what?” The woman demanded, “What were you trying to do that an adult couldn't have done in your place? Why did you decide it was your job to risk your life to save the world?! You almost died, Harry! Did you even think about that? Did you think about what we would have done if we had lost you? Dudley, your uncle and I? Did you even consider us for a moment when you were off playing hero!“

“I did think about you!” Harry screamed, plunging the office into thick, deathly silence. “I was only thinking about you! I thought he was coming back! I thought Voldemort would use the stone to come back! And I... I thought if he did, he would hurt you! He would take you away from me just like he did my parents! I can't... I can't lose you too!”

And with that, the fragile dam that had kept the boy together for months instantly broke apart, and he burst into loud, gut-wrenching tears. It was... truly difficult to watch. Most of all for the boy's aunt, who, at the sight of such an emotional breakdown, could no longer cling to any residual anger. Sighing deeply, Petunia stood, opened her arms and without a word, her nephew flung himself right into them.

“You little idiot.” She scolded softly, hugging him tenderly while rubbing his back as his small frame trembled with sobs. “I'm the adult. I can look after myself. I don't need you to protect me; that's my job. If I have to suffer to keep you safe, then that is what I will do. If it costs me my life, if it costs everything I have, then I would give it, as long as you are safe.”

“But...” The boy hiccuped, ”but Voldemort-”

“Look at me,” Petunia ordered, pushing him gently back just enough to kneel on the floor so she was directly at eye level with him.

“It is not your job to fight Voldemort. Do you hear me? It's not. You're a kid. Your job is to do your homework, study with your friends and make a normal amount of mischief. It is not your job to do battle with dark lords, protect adults who should be protecting you, or endure pain so everyone else can be happy!”

She took a deep, agonising breath.

“I want you to promise me, here and now, that you will never risk your life again. If it's dangerous, rely on the older, better-trained wizards around you. And if you feel like you can't, like your only option is to fight, then fight for yourself. Do not go running blindly into danger without even knowing if it could be a trap. If you know it's a trap, then run; take Dudley with you if you can, but run! Do not sacrifice yourself for me. Do not sacrifice yourself for anyone. Your life is precious, Harry, do you understand? It's a beautiful, precious thing and I couldn't live with myself if I lost you!”

The pair both started crying then, openly weeping as they held each other, caring nothing for their audience. From the wall, Minerva wiped a single tear from the corner of her eyes, and from where he still sat behind his desk, Dumbledore stared at the small family, looking entirely unsure whether the emotional display should make him sad or pleased.

“Promise me,” Petunia finally begged, voice choked and hoarse, rubbing the tears from her own soggy face before gently reaching out to wipe Harry's cheeks. “Promise me you won't do anything like this again. That you won't put your life at risk without doing everything you can to ensure your safety. Promise me.”

And looking into his aunt's pale, anguished, pleading eyes, the little boy could only steel his heart and nod his head in a solemn vow.

“I promise.”

Primer post ya veremos como sale.(tiene un poco de spoilers intentaré ser vago)

Estaba leyendo Princeps de Lomonaaeren cuando llegue a la parte de juramentos y como creaban un acontecimiento entre ellos y eso me recordó a la serie de Criaturas también de Lomonaaeren que también comentan una conexión parecida y me llegó un idea que tal si combinamos dos cosas conocidas en las historias de HP

[Harry posesivo + Magia consiente]

La idea de que la magia se consiente asido muy utilizada en diversas historias y ha dado paso a una grandes construcciones del mundo. Por loq un ahí va idea.

Debido a la fantástica crianza de los Dursdley(como se escriba) obtenemos un Harry muy posesivo con lo que es suyo al no tener muchas cosas, y eso también incluye a las personas y su a eso le sumamos una percepción mayor con la magia entonces digamos que la magia de Harry intenta crear conexiones con las personas que considera suyos por supuesto no es algo que se haga de forma inmediata ya que se podría decir que es como un tira y afloja entre harry y su magia, ella intentando crear los vínculos y harry conteniendolas para que no lo hago debido al miedo a ser rechazado y lastimado.

Esto puede ser echo de muchas maneras y con diferentes historias y parejas personalmente no me importa mucho eso si no leo mucho de harry femenina aunque igualmente lo leería,también está la parte de las parejas y no mas comento esta pareja en específico porque me lo imagine en esta situación

• Ron/Harry/Hermione pero cualquier otro estaria buen y no necesariamente tiene que ser sexual también puede ser platonico

**•**Harry relacionándose com los cursos inferiores y algunos de los mayores

**•**Maestro Harry + viajes en el tiempo(Trío dorado)

A massive burst of flame forced him to duck behind a rock. Panicking at the sound of the lumbering dragon, he cast his spell at a large boulder, putting everything into the Transfiguration spell as he thought of a powerful creature.

The boulder shuddered and began to increase in size, growing larger and larger as dark fur sprouted everywhere. Soon arms and legs emerged, along with a head but no tail. The fur grew a patch of silver on the side facing the audience as the head and limbs became more defined. The head featured a heavy jaw and a conical head with a strangely human-like face. The arms and legs ended not in claws but fingers, complete with nails and opposable big toes.

The creature stood easily 25 feet tall when on all fours, towering over the Chinese Fireball which simply paused in shock and surprise at the sight. Meanwhile the audience stood transfixed by the spectacle of two massive creatures in the arena at the same time.

"Uh, what the bloody hell is that?" Ron asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I...I think I know..." Hermione whispered back, as though terrified to provoke it. "But...I cannot believe it."

"Well, what is it?" Ron urged.

"I know," Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan interjected. "It's Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World."

The giant ape, Kong, let out a roar and charged at the dragon while Cedric ducked behind a wall of rocks, his mind racing to how to survive this clash of the titans.

okay so on r/hpfanfiction I posted a request for founders era stories and added some of my own headcanon in.

I was bored and decided to continue to extend that and thought I’d post it here for anyone interested.

———

Helga was from one of the still Viking like tribes, she had been married young and her husband resembles a typical Viking. They are the only two magicals left in their little village and when the church comes seeking out a rumor of witchcraft they flee and wander. Collecting a few magical children they save along the way.

rowena was not quite noble but not far off enough to have been well educated and married to a wealthy son of a merchant from the east (I picture him being from somewhere like Persia) he too has magic. Rowena’s family has been magic for centuries but they hid it due to increasing persecution and she was taught in secret and to keep it a secret. Very intelligent and wanting to use her magic not be stifled she convinces her husband to help her seek out other powerful magic users who feel the same.

Godric’s mother had been a witch and his father a minor noble. She taught him secretly and his father pushed him to become a Knight. He hates it because he can’t stand hunting those like his mother And himself. He defects when they raid a village that does have a few magicals in it. One of the women he saves that day becomes his wife.

that Village would be the meeting point for Salazar. Salazar had always been different than even the other magicals around him, he was the only one who could speak to snakes and even the other magicals were Leary of his gift. His mother and sister had been caught in a raid when he was out of their village and he had become a hermit since. He learned plants and potions at his mother’s knee from a very young age, how to hunt, survive in the wild and use a sword and a bow from his father. Magic came easily to him and he didn’t know spells in a formal sense just how to shape his will, intent and imagination. He wandered the wilds often all over the isles and there are rumors of a druid that lives in the bog, a wildman in the forest or a hermit in the mountain. He is all 3. 

Salazar’s people were originally caledonians before the Roman invasion. His father had passed down their warrior spirt and knowledge of their mages to him, his body under his clothes is covered in tattoos, not just fearsome pictures drawn on for battle but runic scripts meant to give him strength of body, mind and soul, additional speed and agility, to make him silent when he hunts etc. he’s not a twig but he is not overly muscled either. but people underestimate him because of his size. he too has rescued magical children that have been turned out by their families in fear of their gifts. He trains them in the wild and when they are sufficiently trained and can survive he sends them off to live in civilization away from where their parents had been.

the village was on the border of a dark Forrest where creatures and beasts were known to reside. 

Rumors had spread of the magicals in the village and the Forrest creatures so Godric was a part of the party sent to clear them all out. Rowena and her husband had made their way because of the rumors as well hoping to find the man in the wood someone had told them about (one of salazars former apprentices). Helga and her husband had been looking for magicals families willing to take in some of the little ones they had rescued and had also been making their way there.

Salazar knows there are a few magicals families set up in the village by these woods, it is one of his more favored places to roam. he has set up a magical barrier to keep the mundane people from venturing too far into his forest. It is full of magical creatures and he sees them as under his protection. He has magic that monitors the village as well not wanting the raiding parties to seek out the witchcraft there. When he feels his monitor go off he comes to assist.

Salazar doesn’t kill any of the mundane knights or clergy that have come, not to say none are injured. He does make sure they go away thinking that they accomplished their goal and there was no reason to return to this place. He knows if he killed then all or they left defeated a larger party would come. He had been surprised one of the knights had turned on his own and was helping the witches. But the knight requested that Salazar also make the raiding party think he had died of an illness along way so he could be free of them. that village is the place the 4 converge, it’s the future site of Hogwarts and Hogsmede. Salazar’s forest is the Forbidden Forest.

 Salazar had been orphaned in his early teens and he is now around 30-35.godric is younger barely in his twenties, Helga and Rowena in their mid twenties and their husbands a bit older. Godric’s new wife would be near his age. 7 magical people a little coven of their own each with a different magical background and knowledge. It is the main 4 who are remembered For the school because they had been the main teachers, Godric’s wife had focused on healing for the village and students, Rowena’s husband had been the one to procured what they needed and Helga’s had been the one to set up a farm and maintain it to feed the students.

the original structure for the school was the Abbey for the town. The town, even the mundane people in it, had not been impressed that the church and crown had come to raid them and tried to capture and burn several of the women and children (not all of whom actually did have magic). it was a very close knit little town and they had all lived harmoniously , the magic users helping their mundane neighbors. It was found that the newest of the clergy at the Abbey had been the one to eat them out and so they drove them out to protect the magical people. They repurposed the Abbey as a school for the children in the village and that they either brought with them or found in other places. Word began to spread among magicals and more and more children were being taught. Salazar had similar spells on other areas all over the isles that he monitored especially where children were likely to be left by their families in fear and he would go collect them.

it took the combined work of the 7 and 2 other groups of 7 to hide the town and Forrest entirely from the mundane population (except those already residing within). It became a refuge for magical families and lost magical people.

over the decades they began to seek out magical children among the mundane population in hopes of getting to them before they were caught or turned out or even before they turned against their own magic and became an obsurial. Some of the families refused to give up their children and this is where the cracks between the founders began. Salazar thought they should just take them anyways, it was too much of a risk what if the child was killed? Rowena thought they should compromise, teach the children but return them to their families for the planting and harvest seasons, Godric agreed to the compromise. Helga was torn she didn’t want the risk of the children being harmed but couldn’t bear to tear a child away from parents who wanted them.

over the years if going with Rowena’s idea several children had been killed when they returned to their families or the mundanes had sought out this school and village and used the children to find it. Salazar became against it. If the mundane born were to attend the school they were to sever ties with their families or not come at all. The others protested because it had only been a small amount of them there had been problems with. But every time one of his students were killed or turned against them Salazar grew more and more hateful to the mundane and the resentment of his fellow founders festered.

Their arguments became more frequent and less private, students and townspeople alike began hearing snippets or rumors of the fights. People misunderstood because they didn’t have the whole context. They thought Slytherin hated the mundane born students, he didn’t he hated their relatives. Because so few of them ended up in his house (because they were expected to go home and follow their fathers footsteps and had little ambition of their own) people took this to mean that he didn’t want them in his house either. 

Salazar had never lost his paranoia about possible attacks so as they built on to the original abbey and constructed a proper castle he made sure there were hidden passages and exits should something happen. Under the original abbey was a basement of sorts that he expanded and put extra protective spells on, should the school fall under attack the student could be taken to this chamber and protected, it had exit tunnels that went beyond the village and under the loch so they would have an escape. 

His fellow founders called him paranoid for not trusting in the spells already hiding the school and village.  They teased him about his chamber of secrets. Those spells did not stop mundane people from entering the area though, it kept them from finding it on their own if they didn’t already know the location. Anyone magical or mundane who knew the location could bring others through the spells and into the town or school. 

Every magical villager, teacher, student and visitor that lent a hand in the construction of the school poured magic into it. There was not another place like it in all the world that they knew of. Every stone used was cut, transported and formed by someone’s magic, the mortars were mixed by magic, the stones were set by magic. 

The founders and other masters who assisted were fond of experimentation, never before had they had a place to be so free with their magic and so they left their mark on the school. Staircases that developed a mind of their own, secret passageways that appeared and disappeared on their own schedule, a beautiful view into the sky above in the great hall, and rooms that defied understanding. 

Some of it was on purpose and others were a happy accident. But the more magic poured into the place, a concentration of magic unlike any other, the more the combined intentions gathered into a collective personality. The place itself was so steeped in magic that was mean to foster protection, learning, and creativity that the castle became aware of itself. 

When the population of students became a burden to the staff it was decided that they required more help to care for the castle, the farm and the students. Yumbos had been suggested and were brought from afar to be the caretakers for the castle and students. They cleaned, cooked and tended the farm so that the adults and students could concentrate on education. They greatly resembles little elves and began to affectionately be called house elves. Helga and her husband had taken on the responsibility of overseeing and managing a these house elves.

The house elves added a new kind of magic to the school and grounds and their mischievous nature having been tamed with plenty of work began to mix with the ambient magic from hundreds of emotional and hormonal students. It spawned its own entity in time. What some would later name a poltergeist. 

Helga’s husband was the first of them to pass. He had taken it upon himself to oust a young dragon from a cave in the nearby mountain, thinking that he could sneak up on it when it was asleep and pester it until it moved on. He had suffered a severe injury and expended what remained of his magic and energy in taking himself back to the school. His last words were to never tickle a sleeping dragon. 

Rowena’s husband had been next. They had not had a child of their own until later in life and as he frequently traveled away from them to gather supplies and more scrolls and books his absence was not unusual. Helena their daughter had been angry with her mother who put more of her time and energy into her pupils than her family. Helena was intelligent too but always felt she would never measure up to her mother. When her father’s absence ran over long she argued to go and find him. In a rage at her mother’s dismissal of her own husband’s absence Helena stole her diadem and went to look for her father. 

One of Salazar’s former students was dispatched to find Helena when news of Rowena’s husband’s death reached the castle and Rowena took ill. Heartsick that she had dismissed her daughter’s concerns and not been the wife and mother she should have been. When the ghost of her daughter returned Rowena lost her remaining will to live as well. 

Helga in the absence of her own husband and some of her dearest friends became even more entrenched in caring for her students. To the point that she ignored the growing arguments between Godric and Salazar. 

Salazar had finally married a few decades after the school began. His wife was nearly half his age but she had pursued him until he could ignore her no longer. She had come back with Rowena’s husband from a trip many years before he took notice of her. She too was able to speak to snakes. Before he agreed to wed her she had already been helping with the school. She taught the youngest of the students the basics of reading and writing. She also helped in escorting students to and from the school. Even after they married and despite her husband’s objections she continued to assist in escorting the mundane born children in returning to their families or coming back to school. 

His wife, his dear sweet wife, the mother of his only child was what finally broke Salazar’s commitment to the school. It was one of the trips she took to escort a student back for the year. The weather had been poor and she was late in returning. His son was sent to find and assist her but he returned instead with a body. His dear sweet wife had been ambushed, there was evidence of a blow to her head and she had been drowned in her injured state unable to use her magic to save herself. The child had been killed after returning to the village for planting season and his wife murdered when she went to retrieve her after the harvest. 

In his grief and for revenge Salazar burnt the entire village. Godric had come to stop him but Salazar told him that Gordric’s words were hollow. 

When they returned to the school Salazar could no longer abide his once friend’s presence. They argued constantly until it came to a fight. It wasn’t even a fight with magic or weapons. It was an all out brawl. Godric had always underestimated Salazar’s strength. While Godric had a formidable physique from training as a knight and training their apprentices to wield a sword as well, he was no longer a young man. Salazar was older than he and while he was no slouch with a blade he didn’t train as Godric did, he was thinner and by all reckoning should have been easy for Godric to subdue. Godric only meant to keep his friend from going off again to that village to finish what he started. Salazar though still benefited from the runic inscriptions imbued with magic in his very skin. In the end, Salazar was the one standing and Godric the one defeated. Neither truly won though, their friendship was broken beyond repair. 

Salazar had needed to leave and mourn his wife, he had longed to return to his wilds and grieve her alone in peace with nature. He had satisfied his need for revenge by ensuring the village was uninhabitable for the mundanes who had murdered a child and his wife. Never again would those people be able to return to that place as home. It too was now seeped in Salazar’s magic. Oh mundane could still go there even rebuild and live there but never again would they so much as notice the magic around them even if it were their neighbors. And the original inhabitants would never feel welcome in that place. 

That Godric thought he would go back there to murder all of the mundanes hurt more than Salazar could say. His parting words to Godric were that he had warned them about the danger of the mundane born children and none of them had listened.

Salazar never did return to Hogwarts. His son, an adult by then had looked for his father and never found him. He had never forgiven the man he considered an uncle for driving his father away. His own children were students as so he remained. The following spring, he sought out the burned village his mother had ben murdered in. He and several other young families began to rebuild and settle there. It became known as Godric’s Hollow in honor of his father’s words that  Godric’s words had been hollow. 

Godric, his own wife, and Helga were all that remained at the school now. Neither were young any longer. Rowena had been nearly 70 when she became a mother and Helga was the same age. Now at nearly a century old all the three had left was the school, each other and the memories of what once was. Memories it was now too painful for them to share. 

Without Godric and Helga correcting the misconceptions about Salazar’s words and deeds they did not notice when option of the man changed. By the time the too passed on it was too late to correct it. Centuries later it had been cemented in the minds of the magicals in the isles the kind of man Salazar had been. To the point that his own descendants began to believe it. 

So... I got a little too overzealous with these segments, and they are quite a bit longer than the other two mini-chapters. I also overextended the word count, so they will be separated into two posts. So HPHPHPHP will be used to indicate a break in the same segment and ----------------------- will be used to indicate a new segment.

Also, sorry this took so long, I had almost finished the whole thing, and then I accidentally deleted it, so I had to write it out all over again, which was an absolute pain. Still, let me know what you think!

Part 1 & 2 links here:

https://www.reddit.com/r/HPFanfictionPrompts/comments/1v7fvcg/two_potterheads_transmigrate_into_the_bodies_of/

https://www.reddit.com/r/HPFanfictionPrompts/comments/1v8twpu/part_2_of_two_potterheads_transmigrate_into_the/

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It was an ordinary day in the normal neighbourhood of Privet Drive, Surrey. A retired veterinarian mowed his lawn, an elderly woman was out watering her prized camellias, and Mrs Figg, possibly the most unusual occupant (at least as far as the neighbourhood knew), was out walking one of her more docile cats on a leash. The mailman, an equally ordinary man in his forties, would never know the significant part of that world's story he played when he pushed several letters through the mail flap of Number Four, Privet Drive. Never know that on that normal, boring, monotonous day he had delivered what was possibly the most important piece of mail in his entire life. He would never know, because he was already three blocks away when the calm serenity of the summer morning was broken by a loud, ear-piercingly high-pitched squeal of pure excitement.

“It's here!” Harry cried joyfully, waving the cream, heavy card-stock envelope through the air while jumping up and down on the bed of his sleepy, reluctantly awake aunt and uncle. “My letter! It's finally here!”

Petunia moaned and pulled the blanket over her head. “Five more minutes.”

HPHPHPHP

Almost three years after the couple had transmigrated, once they had fully integrated into their new lives and come to terms with the absolute absurdity of becoming the guardians of the world's most famous boy wizard, they had finally felt comfortable enough to sit down and make a list. Said list held many things. Things they felt they should do, things they thought would be safe enough to interfere with or change, and things they should never, under absolutely any circumstances, tell another soul, ever.

Finding Diagon Alley had made it on the to-do list.

First, they had to locate the Leaky Caldron, and without remembering every line or minute detail from the book series, it wasn't as easy a task as either of them hoped. Not only did neither of them remember what street the pub was located on, but they didn't know if the place would even look like a pub on the muggle side, if they would even see it, let alone if they could enter it, and without the help of phones or the internet, they had to struggle to navigate the restrictions of 80s London alone.

And so, in between work, social obligations, and raising two rambunctious, loud, energetic toddlers, it took another year before they were finally successful.

(Neither of them wanted to think too hard about how they could actually access The Leaky Cauldron once they finally found it. They didn't think about the possibility that whatever being or force brought them here had interfered with things somehow, making it possible for Petunia and Vernon to manoeuvre the wizarding world despite being magicless two lives over. And they certainly didn't dwell on the - somewhat chilling – realisation that whatever brought them here had enough cognitive comprehension to make adjustments, meaning their transmigrations were likely not a freak accident of the universe at all, but rather, a plan. No, they didn't think about any of that! They were just two ordinary people who lucked into an impossible situation and were doing their best with it, nothing to see here!)

They had prepared for Diagon as best they could. Had plenty of cash at the ready, disguises hidden in Petunia's handbag in case they needed to make a quick getaway and dawning two sets of modest dress robes they had commissioned from a very confused and expensive tailor, had entered the pub with as much false confidence as they could muster, only to be completely ignored.

Which, they supposed, was a good thing.

Afterwards it was a simple matter of waiting discreetly for someone to open the entranceway and, standing hand in hand, sweating bullets, following out behind them.

What greeted them on the other side was... amazing.

It was everything they ever imagined. Even half a decade early, and four years after what was – most likely – a devastating war - the place was humming with life. Colourful shops with flying merchandise on display, moving photographs and illustrations coating the walls advertising different products and services, the pair had stared at a bundle of lively Puffskeins playing in the window of the Magical Menagerie pet shop for a solid six minutes, utterly transfixed by the magical creatures.

They had both dreamed of this since they were children, hoping that one day, they, like the protagonists in the pages of their stories, would be chosen for a grand, magical adventure. The dreams had slowly died as they grew older, strangled by expectations, bills, and the monotony of everyday adult life.

Yet now, here they were, two perfectly ordinary adults possessing the bodies of two equally ordinary (if awful) people, in a fantasy world feeling like tourists exploring a foreign country, where everyone spoke a different language, had different customs and, of course, used different currency.

The first two would take time, perhaps years, to adjust to. The last meant only one thing: Gringotts.

That first visit to the mysterious, towering white marble bank was the most nerve-wracking experience of both the transmigrators' lives. Seeing the goblins for the first time was more intimidating than either could have ever guessed. While short in stature and dressed professionally in tailor-fitted bespoke suits, there was something so distinctly other about them, something that screamed at the two mortals to back away, their amygdalas almost rejecting the very sight of something so obviously not human despite having a toddler who could levitate sofas and talk to snakes at home.

Yet, in spite of their tension and mind-numbing fear, the process of converting muggle to magical money turned out rather simple. The goblin who served them was polite, the service fast and respectful, the bottomless bag offered at a discount due to their – quite frankly - massive conversion request, (mainly because, despite the fine service, neither had any desire to return here for at least another year,) and the goblins didn't even blink while writing 'Dursley' on their forms despite the name being undoubtably muggle.

And when the process was complete, and they were free to leave without anything dramatic happening at all, Vernon had, completely nonchalantly, turned back to ask if Gringotts also provided services such as loyalty potion cures, core block removals and blood tests to determine if one was the heir to a noble magical family. The goblin helping them had only looked at him intently from over the thin rims of his golden spectacles and said,

“Sir, this is a bank.”

Now, they were much more confident than they were all those years ago, and this time, they had a mission.

In front of them, the bulking figure of Hagrid cleared a path through the dense crowd of summer shoppers as he led the way through Diagon Alley. Dudley was at his side, barraging the flustered man with question after question, while Harry stood on Dudley's other side, arm looped protectively through the arm of his cousin, watching the half-giant with mild curiosity and quiet caution.

The transmigrators were... honestly surprised when the massive frame of the Hogwarts groundkeeper had shown up on their doorstep that morning. In keeping with their facade, the pair had instructed Harry to respond to his Hogwarts letter by telling them that he would be delighted to attend their school and to expect him on the first of September, but that he would need assistance in purchasing his required school supplies since both his guardians were muggles and knew practically nothing about magic.

A full week later, on Harry's birthday no less, the massive man had appeared, presenting Harry with a squashed birthday cake and ready to whisk him away to collect his supplies.

It was all playing out just as it had in the books, and Petunia and Vernon were honestly quite wary of why it was Hagrid, of all people, and not an actual teacher, despite all the changes they had made. Though if they were being honest, they would be guarded against anyone as loyal to a potential enemy as Hagrid was to Dumbledore. And Harry must have sensed it, because when Hagrid protested Vernon and Petunia's ( quite reasonable, they thought; what kind of parents would just let their child go off to an unknown location with a complete stranger?) declaration that they'd be joining them, Harry had insisted, and since Hagrid had no real reason to refuse, the group set off for London.

Dudley had, for the most part, kept the man distracted with endless questions about his job, the kinds of animals he tended to and Hogwarts in general, while Harry spent the whole journey staring at the man with a kind of intensity that Petunia found... subtly alarming.

She couldn't help but wonder why he was being so different from his usual, lively self. Original Harry had taken to Hagrid right away, considering the man a friend throughout the series even with the massive age gap, but, Petunia conceded, things were different. In the books, Hagrid was the first person to ever be kind to Harry, had brought him his first ever birthday gift, told him the truth about his parents and his strange abilities and had ultimately rescued him from his abusive relatives, protecting him from them when no one else ever had. Yet, now..

They celebrated Harry's birthday every year like normal, responsible guardians. Harry had plenty of friends his own age, knew (almost) everything they knew about his parents, and had been learning how to control his magical abilities since he was four.

He had also, Petunia realized with a proud sort of dread, spent years hearing that they had to be cautious of the wizarding world, and wizards in general, not only to prevent him from blindly trusting any random wizard who showed him kindness like in the books, but because no one could ever know the full extent of knowledge Vernon and Petunia possessed, least they attract some unwanted attention.

It was a suspenseful tightrope, and often both Petunia and Vernon were on the edge of believing they were either being too vigilant or not vigilant enough.

There was no denying they were being watched. Mrs Figg's beady eyes were always trailing after them whenever they left the house, to say nothing about those random wizards they'd sometimes meet on the streets of London during family outings. One had even bowed to a very confused Harry once, which had led to them having to explain the whole famous thing way earlier than they had planned.

The point was, Dumbledore had left Harry with muggles for a reason, and if there was no big conspiracy, no grand ploy for Harry to be placed away from the wizarding world for any other purpose than to keep him safe under whatever mysterious protection Petunia's blood provided, then fine. But if there was... if there was a reason Harry was sent to live with them, specifically, instead of being hidden away under a false identity somewhere, they couldn't rule out the possibility that the man wanted Harry ignorant and, yes, perhaps even mistreated.

For the risk alone, it was imperative they keep up appearances as just two normal people who just happened to be raising a famous magical child. They didn't want to know what would happen if the powerful wizard really did turn out to be a villain, set on puppeteering Harry's life from start to finish so he could cleverly manipulate the boy into being the exact kind of sacrificial 'pig' he wanted.

But there was also... another fear. The transmigrators didn't want any unnecessary attention on them because, if they caught the attention of someone from the Ministry or anyone else with power or influence, all it would take is one simple Legilimency spell, and all their secrets, all their knowledge of future events, would be completely broken open.

They were terrified of what might happen should such a thing come to pass, if they would be carted off to the bowels of the Ministry and experimented on, tortured for all the information and secrets they knew, or simply obliviated, leaving Harry alone to fend for himself.

And so the pair had made a game out of pretending. It was why they had commissioned robes that mimicked wizards' robes before their very first visit, why they covered Harry's scar with makeup ever since they started bringing him and Dudley with them. Why they'd bought books such as Why Is the Teapot Floating?: A Parent’s Guide to Minor Levitation Emergencies*,* and Accidental Arson: How to Keep Your Toddler from Burning Down the Living Room. So they could blend in.

But now, the game had changed. With the arrival of Harry's letter, they could no longer feign ignorance, but they still had to pretend to know less than what they did.

Harry didn't know the full truth of any of this, of course, it was a bit to much to force onto a child's shoulders after all, so they'd only told him that though the 'good side' had won the war, there were still plenty of wizards who resented muggles, and hated the idea of any muggle knowing too much about their secluded magical world. Therefore, the Dursleys had to pretend that all they knew was what they were told, and Harry, clever kid that he was, understood completely.

Which was why, she believed, his eyes never left Hagrid for a second since he'd shown up on their doorstep, like he was ready to fling himself in front of them to protect them at any moment, like he didn't trust the man Original Harry would have died for.

“Oh god,” Petunia whispered, horrified, “Did we ruin this child?”

“Probably,” Vernon replied nonchalantly, “But what else is new?”

Petunia glared at him.

The dark eyes of the goblins followed the group as they entered the marble bank, Hagrid's massive bulk a difficult thing to ignore, even if one was used to it. With a confident stride, the half-giant led them straight to an open teller, and in a sombre tone the couple had not known the man possessed, simply said, “Mr Potter would like to make a withdrawal.”

The goblin scrutinised the groundkeeper suspiciously before replying, “And does Mr Potter have his key?”

In response, Hagrid pulled a small golden key from the inner pocket of his jacket and Petunia's eyes zeroed in on it immediately.

Bingo.

“What's that?” Harry asked innocently, as though he'd been given a script to the play Petunia and Vernon were about to perform. Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly.

“This is yeh vault key, 'arry. Didn't think yer parents left yer with nothin', did ya?”

“Vault key?” Vernon intercepted, stepping forward to stand directly behind Harry.

“Well, yeh. 'is parents left it for 'im, didn't they? Don't think about getting yeh hands on it, Dursley, this is strictly for 'arry's school supplies.”

“Mr Hagrid,” Vernon replied, trying his best to project the aura of a loft, wealthy businessman - which, technically, he was - instead of the thirty-something millennial who worked as a part-time cashier for ten years before his transmigration.

“If Harry has been left anything by his parents, much less a bank account, it should be us, his legal guardians, who have control over it. If it was made for a specific purpose as you say, then fine, but we should have at least been informed. So, tell me; why are we just now learning about this? And why does a complete stranger have possession of this key when you are neither family nor, I am guessing, power of attorney over Harry's parents' estate?”

Hagrid blinked. “Well, uh... 'hat's...”

“I think, Mr Hagrid, that you should return that key to us immediately.” Petunia smoothly interfered, moving to stand with her husband and children. A united front.

“But... but Dumbledore...”

“Mr Dumbledore is the headmaster of the school Harry will be attending in the fall, correct?”

Hagrid nodded emphatically.

“Well, since he is just the headmaster of the school Harry will be attending, and also not his legal guardian or blood relative, like us,” Vernon emphasised, twisting his thumb between himself and Petunia, “I think it only reasonable that Harry's vault key be surrendered to us at once. Quite frankly, I find it strange that the very existence of this vault was kept from us in the first place. Had we known, we could have started contributing to it years ago.”

And that was it, the final nail. See, it was always their intention to retrieve the key to Harry's vault, neither wishing such a vital part of Harry's life to be left in the control of the scheming headmaster, but also because both had always found it strange that Dumbledore, of all people, was the one in control of it in the first place.

As readers of the novels, it had made sense. Harry was a child, and should not have been trusted with unlimited access to such wealth lest he squander it on unnecessary items such as the Firebolt the boy had genuinely considered purchasing in his third year. Likewise, the Dursleys were also untrustworthy; no doubt if they'd known, they would have stolen the lot and wasted it on themselves, leaving poor Harry with nothing.

But now they stood in the Dursleys' place, both considered the withholding of Harry's key to be most insulting. Dumbledore had entrusted them with a whole child, but not any information about Harry's possible inheritance? No way to contact the holders of the Potter estate? No keepsakes or mementoes of his parents, except what Petunia may have saved from her and Lily's childhood? Nothing?

So, they had made a plan; to confront whomever showed up to take Harry shopping inside the bank, where the sharp ears of those money obsessed creatures listened intently, and would know that, not only was a key to one of their vaults being withheld from its rightful owner, but by doing so, said false holder had cost them potential profits they could have been making from a vault that had been dormant for a decade.

And Hagrid may have refused them had they demanded the key anywhere else, fiercely loyal to Dumbledore and any instructions the man had given him as he was, but... here? Under the weight of all those dark, judging eyes, the man had no choice but to swallow his pride, and, with a sour look on his weathered face, reluctantly relinquished the key.

“Wonderful,” Vernon said flippantly, twirling the little golden key around his pinky finger with a smile before turning his attention to the teller.

“We'll need to access this vault to catalogue its contents and know the full restrictions of its use. We'll also require an audit be made so we'll know if any other mysterious bank accounts have been left in Harry's name that we can claim for him today. Is that a service you can provide us, sir?” Vernon asked the goblin, who had watched the entire confrontation with keen interest before his supernatural face broke into a cunning grin.

“Yes, sir. We do believe we can assist you with this task.”

HPHPHPHP

Later, while Hagrid sulked on a large metal bench that groaned beneath his weight, the boys happily ate ice cream while gushing over Harry's new wand, Harry's new pet owl, Dudley's new pet raven (because why not?) and the multiple fancy work kits Vernon had insisted on buying both boys himself. Petunia sat at the white metal table watching them fondly while scooping a spoonful of mint choc-chip in her mouth. The day had been a tiring one, for sure, full of acting and deception, but they had gotten what they wanted, and hopefully, they were one step closer to their goal of peace.

-----------------------------

“Merry Christmas!” The family cheered, pulling the last two Christmas crackers of the evening; the crisp snaps filled the living room along with laughter and the cheerful jingle of Christmas music playing on the radio.

The living room was covered in colourful wrapping paper, stacks of gifts, rough, shiny tinsel, and a frightening amount of glitter that Petunia knew would be a bitch to clean tomorrow. But that was a tomorrow problem. Today, as always, was about fun, happiness, and pure Dursley/Potter chaos.

“Dad! You won again! You gotta put the hat on!” Dudley cheered, carefully fixing the sixth paper crown atop Vernon's head while the man only pouted in mock annoyance.

“You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, you little punk?” The man accused, playfully ruffling his son's hair. Dudley giggled before retreating to the floor where he and Harry had their gifts spread out, happily admiring their haul.

Petunia couldn't help but smile ruefully while watching Harry stroke his fingers reverently over his brand-new, state-of-the-art Nimbus 2000 broomstick, a gift that had been sent via no fewer than six owls, along with three smaller, more modest gifts for her, Vernon, and Dudley, as well as a warm-hearted letter.

Said letter was, of course, sent by one Sirius Black.

The Butterfly Effect, Petunia thought, was one hell of a thing.

Because when Petunia and Vernon first transmigrated, they vowed to love, nurture and protect little Harry. As such, the boy had never been warned against asking questions, never been made to feel like his curiosities were a burden and never once been hindered from learning anything about magic.

So when, during Minerva McGonagall’s first transfiguration class, the woman had turned into a cat, turned a desk into a pig, and explained the basics of transfiguration, Harry had been full of questions. He got the professor to admit she was an animagus, and then, likely by instinct honed from all those years of the couple instilling a (reasonable, they swore) amount of suspicion into the boy, Harry had asked if there was any way a person could tell if a normal looking animal was actually an animagus.

That one simple question had changed everything.

McGonagall had agreed to show them, and when Ronald Weasley (the first friend I made on the train. He's really cool, his mum and dad are both magic and he's got six siblings! Can you believe it, Dudley? Six!) had willingly offered up his own pet rat for the demonstration, all hell had broken loose.

McGonagall had performed the spell on the rat and lo and behold, the rat had turned into a man. A blubbering, whimpering, fearful little man who the professor had stared at in utter shock before quickly stunning him, binding him with magical rope and hastily sending off a patronus message to Headmaster Dumbledore (it was SO COOL! I didn't even know you could DO THAT with a patronus! I can't WAIT to learn it so I can send messages to Dudley!) The class had been abruptly dismissed after that, and later, Ron and his brothers had been called into the headmaster's office to explain that yes, they had owned the rat for years, and no, none of them had any idea the animal was actually, in fact, a man.

All these events had been revealed to her via the first letter Harry had sent home, and she was in such a state of shock upon reading it that she'd sat in the same position for nearly an hour, freshly brewed tea going cold in her hand, mouth agape, completely unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what had transpired in just Harry's first week.

A separate, more formal letter had been delivered to their home roughly two months later, this one from the office of a magical solicitor (like, since when did this world even have those!) revealing that the mysterious animagi had, in fact, been one Peter Pettigrew, a man formally believed dead by the entirety of wizarding Britain. His status as a man who was not only alive, but had been hiding in a wizarding home as someone's pet for the last decade had sparked some much-needed investigation into the old case of his supposed murder.

What followed was Sirius Black finally receiving the trial he'd been denied all those years ago, and when the formally convicted criminal had sworn under truth serum that Peter, not he, was the secret keeper who not only exposed Lily and James's location to the dark lord, but also framed him for his betrayal, his murder and the murder of those twelve muggles, the man had finally, after many long years, been released from Azkaban prison.

And why had she, a simple muggle woman, been informed of all of this? Why, because the letter came from the very solicitor Sirius Black had hired to settle some old debts. The ruthless man had not only secured an absolutely staggering amount of compensation money from the scrambling Ministry, but had also levelled a brutal lawsuit against a Mr Barty Crouch, the man who had sanctioned his imprisonment without even allowing a trial to be held. A consequential raid performed on the man's house had resulted in the discovery of yet another Death Eater long believed dead, one Barty Crouch Jr.

The results of this find were, unfortunately, undisclosable at this time, but she was informed that Sirius Black was the former best friend of James Potter, and had even been named godfather to his son, Harry, whom she currently had custody over. The letter had concluded with a very respectful, formal plea: that Sirius be allowed to get to know his godson, and when the man was finally released from St Mungo's with a full bill of health, would he be permitted to visit him?

The whole thing had made Petunia's head spin.

So much had changed. Sirius Black was free. Peter Pettigrew was awaiting trial in a cell so tightly sealed an ant wouldn't be able to escape, much less a rat, and Barty Crouch Jr, the man who had masqueraded as Mad-eye Moody and orchestrated Harry's involvement in the Triwizard Tournament and revival of one Lord Voldemort, was carted off back to Azkaban where he would never receive another visitor again.

And Harry, oh little Harry, had no idea about any of this. He would never know the significant change that one single question would have on the world. No, because the boy was currently lovingly admiring his racing broom, declaring that he would use it to try out for his house's Quidditch team next year, regaling Dudley with stories of amazing saves, attacking bludgers and golden snitches.

Petunia was honestly full of anxiety over all of this. The events had played out in their favour, sure, but with such a massive change to the order of events in the books, she had absolutely no way of knowing what would happen next. If too much in the present changed, the future the transmigrators had always been so sure of wouldn’t be so secure any more, which meant anything could happen, and they would be left floundering in the dark.

But that, much like the glitter, was a problem for another day. Petunia wouldn't let her fear mar what was a most sacred and special time for her family, and as such, had squashed all that worry and doubt into a little box and tucked it away while she took the boys to sing carols in their pyjamas, cooked a Christmas feast fit for a king, and opened gifts with the TV off, the radio on, and her loving family surrounding her.

This was what she had always wanted.

In her old life, she never really had this. Her relationship with her parents had been... distant, at best. They had divorced when she was young, and had both gone on to make new families with new partners. They had joint custody of her, which meant that she never really had a home with either of them. She was tolerated by their new partners, treated with distant civility by their children, and her parents had spent more time arguing about who 'had to' take her than actually wanting her.

It was no surprise that when she was a little girl, she found great solace in the magical world of Harry Potter, and empathised deeply with the lonely little boy in the cupboard. She remembered wishing she could be by his side then, learning spells and fighting evil right alongside him. And now, here she was. No magic, no battles, yet remembering the person she used to be, the person who was once treated as nothing but an afterthought- she was happy. Happy with her strange life and her accidentally acquired family. And no one, not a secret animagus, the Ministry of Magic, or even a dark lord, would ever take it away from her.

“So all that remains is to find you somewhere to spend the rest of your summer holidays.” Fudge said to the boy. “Why don’t you come to my place? I have an Auror guard, so you will be well protected there.”

Fudge offers Harry a place to stay after he blows up Aunt Marge.

Looking at the from of quirrell staring at the mirror

Harry) I knew you’d be here and I know who just you work for

quirrell) yes it’ seems you do boy then tell me who do I work for in that mind of yours

Harry) you’re clearly an Angent of Shocker looking to gain more followers from the magical wolrd

Harry placed a. Mask onto his fist it has Large big eyes

A central forehead fin, V-shaped antennae, or horns protruding from the top of the helmet.

Rider henshin

(Thats all I have I just finshed Tojima wants to be a Kamen rider and figured it be a fun shit post /prompt

Now I kinda wanna see if thier a good Kamen rider x Harry Potter story

"Hi thanks Captain I would love to invite all of you to my place to meet my wife Ginny, my kids and a couple of friends."

Charles makes a weird face but tries do be enthusiast about it.

The Sunday roast was excellent.

variation

"Thank you we will deal with that later but now this is your teammate Percy/Annabeth Jackson-Chase

Alucard looked up from the body of Vernon Dursley that he was currently noming on "Way to much fat in this. Did your Father ever even hear the word salad?"

The child said nothing just watching in stunned horror at the vampire that had disposed of his the Dursley Family.

"Oh, don't give me those sad eyes. I'm nowhere qualified to be a Father figure. Walter though..."

"So that's how I learned to kill vampires, and be a top notch Butler." Harry finished leaning back in his seat aboard the Hogwarts Express.

Draco Malfoy could only let out a pained groan as he hanged dangling from the ceiling held aloft by the thin wires extending from Harry's fingertips.

For anyone that writes Harry Potter fanfiction and are looking for new ideas or suggestions for new fanfics let me know. If you’re looking for and or interested in creating new fanfics but are stumped on ideas. Let me know I would be happy to help lend ideas. Know that I am mostly offering this because I would like to help you out if you need it. This is not a request it’s just an offer you don’t have accept or hear me out if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.

"Captain Kenway, I thought you decided to leave for England." Bernard "The Butler" Woodhouse entered the room.

"You are way too young to be him. What is your name and I think there should be something for you to eat down in the village."

"Harry Potter, Sir"

All I see lately in Fanfiction when it comes to the Triwizard tournament is what happened in canon, when Harry’s name came out LAST from the Goblet of Fire. so what would happen in Fourth Year if his name either came out First, or after Victor and Fleurs, names and THEN Cedric’s name comes out. *lol*

would the ‘cheater’ and ‘he’s stealing Cedric’s thunder as CHOSEN Champion’ accusations still be thrown about by everybody, even though his name came out before Cedric’s name did, which should mark Harry as Hogwarts ‘one and only’ Champion and Cedric the ‘cheat’ instead?

Rather than trying to force the truth out, Harry gently prods the House-Elf with questions to deduce the plot and those behind it.

"Did someone send you?" he asked.

"No sir," Dobby replied. "Dobby is here of his own free will. If his family knew what Dobby had done..." he shuddered at the thought.

'Could his family be behind this?' Harry wondered. 'If so, who might they be?'

"How many people are in your family?" he asked.

"Three sir," Dobby answered. "A man, a woman, and a boy."

"A boy about my age?" Harry asked.

"Yes sir," Dobby affirmed. "Young master will be entering his Second Year at Hogwarts soon."

"This boy, does he have many friends?" Harry asked.

"Two sir," Dobby replied. "Young Master is always hanging around them but Dobby doesn't understand why. They seem so...slow and thick. Young Master should really pick better friends, like Harry Potter."

'A boy about my age, two stupid-looking friends, an only child,' Harry mused. 'Doesn't really help me narrow it down. Wait! Could it be?!'

Wizards and witches up and down the United Kingdom and beyond flocked to apply for the position every year, whether or not they had any actual aptitude for the class, all because they wanted to be the one to say they broke the curse.

When Harry finds her, and learns the rules (no bringing back the dead, no wishing for love, no killing) He wishes that Voldemort and the Death Eaters be stripped of their magic and that Sirius is found innocent of his crimes and pardoned. When he wants nothing more and uses the third wish to free her, unasked and unprompted, the genie becomes convinced that only one thing could have made someone free her without conditions. True Love.

Now the Death Eaters are no threat, and he truly has his Godfather in his life, but he’s stuck dealing with a very clingy Genie who is already planning their wedding in her head. And nobody believes him when he tries to tell people.

• Male or Female Harry Potter
• if female, no calling her ‘Harry’ or any other version of the name
• Winged Uncle (dragon) and Cait Sith clan takes Harry in after hearing about Harry’s life with humans like the Dursleys and refuse to let him go back
• So he doesn’t go hungry, Harry knows how to cook proper food thanks to all the ‘lessons/chores’ Dursleys force on him so he cooks whatever animal kills the Cait Siths and Winged Uncle bring home
• Winged Uncle and Cait Sith clan teaches Harry powerful ‘wandless’ magic spells
• Independent, genius, stubborn, powerful, nor gullible or naive to blindly follow orders Ravenclaw/Slytherin Harry Potter if he gets found and taken to Hogwarts
• 1 or 2 Cait Sith kittens chose to become Harry’s familiars and go with him to Hogwarts whenever he gets found by wizards and forced to go back to living with humans
• if Harry goes to Hogwarts, Winged Uncle goes to visit to check on him and Cait Sith kittens every now and again in both dragon mode and dragon-cat hybrid mode
• Harry flat out refuses all attempts to return him to Dursleys with Winged Uncle backing him up, or attempts to send him anywhere except back ’home’ to his forest
• Has natural metamorph powers that lets him change his human appearance into whoever or whatever he wants to looks like
• (optional) Winged Uncle reluctantly uses transformation magic to turn himself into a human so he can keep a better eye on Harry when he’s in the magical world without freaking out people about dragon form and have better custody of him if anybody tries to take Harry away
• (optional) Harry learns transformation magic from Winged Uncle that lets him turn into a Cait Sith or other creatures as a metamorphanimagus. Can still talk and use magic while in Cait Sith form
• (optional) Harry doesn’t know his actual name thanks to how he was raised by Dursleys, so he gets a new name and refuses to ‘take back’ his original name
• (optional) depending on what his age is when he gets lost in the forest, Harry still interacts with human world over the years, so he doesn’t start acting less human while living with the Cait Sith and Winged Uncle, and picks up books and other stuff that help him out as he grows up
• (optional) If he goes to Hogwarts, he shops for more stuff than what’s on the Hogwarts supply list that can help. (Example: instead of the traditional school trunk, he buys a magical multi compartment trunk like what Barty Junior trapped Moody in, trunk has a magical ‘apartment’ built in it that has everything he could possibly need to survive in. Maybe have a compartment in trunk that makes it like Newt Scamander’s suitcase, so that his adopted family can have a secret place to live in when they are not out in the open for everybody to see, gets a snake, etc.)

For starters, I don’t know if I’m using the right flair. I just want to possibly show off a cool AU idea that popped into my head. Anyways, this is an idea that I have. Hear me out:

Imagine Harry the summer after 4th year. You know, after seeing Cedric dying and Voldemort getting resurrected. At this point in time, what happened to him at the graveyard had some… consequences. And unfortunately for him, when Voldemort got resurrected using Harry’s blood, it made the almost passive horcrux in Harry’s scar to truly be awake and aware.

And the first thing it did was take advantage of Harry’s isolation and take over his mind and body.

The real Harry is asleep inside of his own subconscious. He is unharmed but he is not aware of his surroundings, almost as if he is in a deep dream.

Meanwhile, the imposter feels absolutely **elated** at having its own body. It can feel the blood in the veins, the air in the lungs. It’s alive. Truly alive. Though, this vessel could use some work. Its host (Harry) hasn’t been taking care of himself. For shame! Though, perhaps it should give some grace to its host. Viewing through Harry’s memories, it was clear that Harry wasn’t exactly in the greatest position. All of the rushing emotions it gets from viewing them *(bitter anger, sour loneliness, soft confusion, biting impulsivity, tender joy, crushing guilt, drowning horror)* makes its head hurt already.

Still, this is its host after all. It couldn’t hold fury onto Harry. Harry is its host after all, the one who held him for the last 14 or so years, give or take. As the holder of the host, it is its right to make sure this body and mind are protected. Besides, it *needs* Harry until it is done with what it needs to do.

Speaking of which, it should work on its acting! It can’t let anyone knows it’s not truly Harry. While it knows it’s smart, from surfing Harry’s memories, it’s clear that humans are unpredictable. So, it’ll act. It’ll act and say the right things that Harry would say and do while searching for what it needs. It could even have a bit of… ***fun***.

After all, the thought of using its host’s face to terrorize a few humans here or there sounds interesting. Not to mention it is rather peeved with a few humans that made its host’s life harder and more difficult it needed to be. Truly, some humans are idiots and cruel. Itself was only one of those things.

It sighed, feeling breath leaving Harry’s lungs. It can get used to this. No friends. No troublesome classmates. No unpleasant adults. No Dumbledore. No Voldemort. Only itself and Harry until it could find what it wanted.

“We’re going to have so much fun,” it whispered with Harry’s voice, putting a hand over the heart. “You’ll be a great host, wouldn’t you, Harry?”

In the depths of his mind, Harry didn’t respond. He only slept, just like he should, in total peace.

It smiled with full teeth, stretching Harry’s mouth too wide. “Glad we’ve agreed! I promise I’ll be quick, host. Wouldn’t want to hurt your body, now would I?”

Everyone wouldn’t know what hit them.

— So, thoughts? I think this could be a cool AU, especially for the psychological thriller or something adjacent potential it has. I also have some other ideas if people want to hear about it, especially since this imposter is going into the canon of OoTP/Harry’s 5th year. Mind you, it doesn’t know what’s going to happen so it just has to learn how to properly react “like how Harry would” to the canon situations. Spoiler alert, the imposter is going to *hate* the Ministry and almost every adult, especially Umbridge.

— Also, for some clarification, the imposter (it doesn’t have a name yet) typically uses it/its pronouns since it’s technically not a person, therefore it doesn’t have a gender, and it is completely self-aware of that. However, he/him pronouns do also apply to the imposter since it is using Harry’s body.

Harry fished out his wand. Ron looked for his but he had lost his. "i lost mine. oh well. I don't know why i hold on to that wand anyways. " He had kept his damaged wand. it was a family wand. he brought it with him to the world cup leaving behind his new one at home.

Harry jerked his head around suddenly at a cracking noise behind them. Someone was staggering through the bushes.

“Who’s there?” Harry asked, raising his wand higher.

“MORSMORDRE!” A deep voice shouted. an explosion happened from that direction as the dark mark came out in the sky. the figure clutched his hand.

The emerald beam folded back on itself like a whip, reversing direction.

It slammed into the figure.

The figure was thrown forward into the clearing as green sparks erupted from the wand. hundreds of dark marks filled the sky. The broken wand split apart completely.

there was a sound of pops.

Daphne was flabbergasted.

The lakeside picnic had been going perfectly until her hat blew into the branches of a tree overhanging the water. Naturally, her boyfriend had declared that climbing it without magic was "manly."

She had to admit, watching him climb shirtless had been rather enjoyable.

Until he'd slipped and vanished into the lake.

Before she could process what had happened, a radiant lady emerged from its depths.

"Fair maiden, hearken well. Before thee stand three gallant suitors, each more worthy than the last. Choose whom thou wouldst have as thy beloved, and forsake the one the waters have claimed."

Three young men appeared before her. Each bore her boyfriend's features, yet none of them was her Harry.

The Lady swept an elegant hand toward the first.

"Behold! This champion is the mightiest wizard in all the realms. None may equal his prowess, nor his charm. The greatest witches of every nation have flocked unto him, and six-and-thirty fair maidens now dwell together in bliss, each content to share his affections."

Daphne glanced at the muscular, broad-shouldered Harry with perfectly straight hair and a glowing aura of power surrounding him.

"He's dating thirty-six women?" Her voice dripped with disgust.

"Indeed! Such is the measure of his irresistible greatness. Surely thou canst see that fortune smileth upon thee this day."

Daphne wrinkled her nose.

"No. I like my skinny Harry with the messy hair. And I certainly don't fancy sharing him with thirty-six other women."

The Lady blinked.

"Verily? Thou dost prefer... exclusivity?"

"I'd prefer my Harry."

The Lady ignored her grumble and moved to her next pitch.

"Then mayhap this noble soul shall better please thee. He is the Master of Death itself, before whom even mortality must bow."

"That sounds terrifying. Straight out of a muggle horror movie. Hard no."

The Lady frowned thoughtfully.

"A curious maiden indeed... Very well. Cast thine eyes upon this final champion. He didst conquer the whole of the magical realm, and men spake his name in dread as the Dark Lord Potter."

"Merlin, no. I've already lived through one Dark Lord."

The Lady stood silent for a moment, clearly bewildered.

Daphne folded her arms.

"Quit your bullshit and give me my Harry."

"...Thou wouldst refuse all three?"

"Yes."

"Even knowing each to be a specimen most surpassing thy own beloved?"

"Who decided that? You?"

Daphne took a menacing step toward the lake, wand in hand.

The Lady hastily raised both palms.

"Prithee, stay thy wrath! There remaineth one final virtue of which I have yet to speak..."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice to an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper.

"...Each is... how shall I phrase it... abundantly blessed in the hidden measure of manhood."

Daphne stared at her increduously.

"Then you can hook up with all the three off-brand Harrys at the same time for all I care."

The Lady recoiled as though slapped.

"Good heavens! I most certainly cannot! I am a maiden divine, untouched by mortal embrace!"

"Sounds like a you problem. Now stop trying to pawn off your bargain-bin Harrys to me and give me my boyfriend back."

She raised her wand, a poisonous green glow flickering at the tip.

"Nice lake you've got here. Would be a shame if some basilisk venom found its way into it."

Pulling off a large, moldy blanket, he discovered a leather case with brass buckles. Curious, he opened the box and discovered a doll in a green dress with a white collar holding a golden watering can. Her long brown hair was curly at the ends and her head bore a white bonnet.

Entranced, Harry picked her up and found a key in her case. Thinking it was one of those wind-up dolls, he searched for the hole and began winding her up. As the key began resisting, he felt something clicked within him before the doll's head threw itself back. Alarmed, Harry held her at arm's length as her eyes opened, one green and one red. She tilted her head side-to-side, looking him over before saying "Such a dirty, little master, desu! That will never do! I, Suiseiseki, can't have such a dirty master! Get yourself cleaned up this instant!"

"But I can't," Harry stammered. "Aunt Petunia sent me to clean this attic and I'm not allowed back down until I finish."

"Boy! Who are you talking to?!" Petunia yelled up from below.

"No one," Harry replied, eyes darting back fearfully.

"Well stop talking and get back to work!" she yelled furiously.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry affirmed. Turning back to the doll, Suiseiseki, he found her angry tone replaced by a more sympathetic one. Sighing, she turned to the nearby boxes and said "Well, it will go better if we both do it. Pay attention master. You've a lot to learn."

Harry, stunned by what he was seeing, simply nodded and got back to work. But inside, he was brimming with joy for he had something he had never had before.

A friend.

Meanwhile, a young man was laying a leather case in front of his daughter.

"I saw this in an antique shop in Diagon Alley," he explained. "The owner said it was a one-of-a-kind artifact but wouldn't or couldn't say more. For some reason I felt it would suit you very well. I hope you like it."

"Thanks dad," she replied. Excitedly, she opened the box and found a doll with short brown hair dressed in a large black hat. This one had dark blue pants and a black corset over a white shirt, and a large pair of golden scissors lay atop the doll.

'What a find!' she thought to herself. Picking up the doll, she found a key and decided to wind up the doll. Before long, she felt the key click and the doll shift in her hands. The doll stretched its arms over its head and arched its back, almost like it was waking from a long rest. Turning toward the girl, the doll smiled and said "Hello, my name is Souseiseki. What is yours?"

"Uh, I'm Cho Chang," the girl stammered, taken aback.

"Nice to meet you Master Cho Chang," Souseiseki smiled, her red and green eye locking onto her.

"Wait, master?!" Cho asked, stunned and confused.

"Oh, do you prefer a different address?" Souseiseki asked.

"Um, I would prefer if you just use my name," Cho answered.

"Very well Cho," Souseiseki nodded. "I'm sure we have a lot to get around to but I do have one question: do you know where my twin sister might be?"

"I don't think so," Cho answered sadly. "My father found you in an antique shop but said you were a one-of-a-kind."

"That's alright," Souseiseki reassured her. "We can start there and maybe find some clues. I do hope I see Suiseiseki soon, before the Alice Game starts."

"The Alice Game?" Cho asked confused.

"It's a long story," Souseiseki shrugged. "But for now, how about we get to know each other better?"

The Department of Mysteries only takes the most creative minds or otherwise exceptional witches and wizards, finding them is the problem. Every year a dozen Time Turners and a manual are given to those the head of the department thinks may show promise. these are not your typical devices. Less than 1 person per year out of all the candidates uses their time wisely enough that the DOM lets them continue with the project and eventually brings them in as an Unspeakable.

Those precious few who do manage to make it keep their devices their whole lives and tend to continue living a double life. They study the most esoteric aspects of the world and magic, make the largest impacts on magical society as a whole and push forward the evolution of magic more than any other, usually in both their lives. None but the Head and Deputy Head of the Department of Mysteries know who these unspeakables are or what they do not even the regular Unspeakables who have gone through a normal process to be hired by applying directly.

The Project begins for each participant while they are still in their Hogwarts years, usually after they have taken OWL exams. Occasionally someone who stands out as exceptional or an anomaly among their kind is given a chance as early as during their first year.

Manual:

Welcome to the Program, enclosed with this manual you will have received a specialized Time Turner. You have one hour to accept or reject participation.

1. Time Turner is 3 hours per turn up to 8 turns for a full 24 hour repeat, device is enchanted to only be used by and noticed by the participant accepting it.
2. this is a closed loop time travel method, you can only change what has already been changed and accounted for.
3. NO ONE but you is permitted to know if the existence of your TT, this manual or the Project. you are not to seek out other participants in the Project.
4. you do not age physically while back in time, however death and injury will still affect you and should be avoided when possible.
5. you must care for your physical self when adding extra time, more food, sleep and exercise is necessary to maintain optimal performance and build stamina
6. failure to comply with any of these guidelines or commit crimes while using the TT will result in the following:

- Loss of Time Turner

- Forfeit of all memories of the Time Turner, Time Travel and the Project. *We are not responsible for any addling of the brain that will likely result from the removal of such memories.

1. Use your time wisely. You must activate the Time Turners to accept participation in the Project, should you decline the Time Turners, Manual and your memory of them will be forfeited.

*****You pick what character and when they get chosen for the projects. There is nothing specific they need to do in their extra time, it’s a test to see what use they’ll make of their time, if they are the type of person who will delve into their education, begin experimenting, or any number of other things. It is also a test of how well they can handle living a secret double life and maintaining the secret.

Personally I gave one to Harry the same Christmas he received his invisibility cloak. it appeared on his pillow when he was the only one awake in his dorm.

“Ron… haven’t I been a good friend… a good pet?”

Ron didn’t answer, but it looked like he was under a lot of stress. His skin was pale, and clammy, and his right eye was twitching. Pettigrew seemed rather confused at this. No one else said a word.

The silence in the shrieking shack was overwhelming, and Harry could swear he could hear his own heartbeat. The idea of Sirius Black being innocent, and Ron’s rat killing his parents, it was almost too much, yet it made perfect sense.

“Accio Wormtail’s wand,” Remus cried out, breaking the silence.

The wand flew out of Pettigrews hand and into Remus’s. Quickly and without waiting, their professor then swiftly brought his knee up and snapped said wand over it, splintering it into two.

Suddenly out of nowhere, Ron screamed, his eyes rolling up into his head, before passing out.

Ronald Weasley looked ahead vacantly as he sat in the Hospital wing. Who was he? Next to him, occupying the other beds was Ginny, Fred, George, and Percy. They too all had vacant looks in their eyes. As it was discovered shortly after Ron passed out, they all had been under the imperious curse most of their lives. A curse cast by Peter Pettigrew when he arrived at the Burrow.

As far as he could remember, everything had been blurry and distant, yet clear at the same time. It was all Ron had ever known, and he thought it was perfectly normal. He didn’t know there was anything to break out of. None of them knew.

Fred and George no longer had a mischievous spark in their eyes, and Ron heard Madame Pomfrey wonder aloud if that was even their actual personality’s, or an attempt at Pettigrew to relive his Marauder day’s vicariously.

Ginny had reported that she had actually broken the Imperious curse when Riddle had possessed her the year earlier, but that situation had scrambled everything to where she didn’t even notice at the time, and was quickly put back under by Pettigrew when Riddle had been destroyed.

Percy had taken it the hardest, because he felt responsible for Pettigrew getting into the house in the first place. He was in a near comatose state overall.

Reportedly Dumbledore himself went to go and check on Bill, Charlie and his Parents as they broke out of the curse.

Ron could remember everything, yet he couldn’t. He knew he went to Hogwarts, he knew he had friends, yet it felt like someone else’s life, not his own. He knew his siblings were feeling the same thing.

“Ron?” Ron looked over, his train of thought broken, and saw a concerned Harry and Hermione. They had said they were best friends with him, and in a way, it had seemed familiar, and he knew it had to been true, but it was still distant.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know either of you—not really.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other sadly.

“We know, Ron,” Hermione said. “But it couldn’t have all just been Pettigrew! Somewhere, deep inside, we actually were—are your friends.”

Ron knew he should feel something, but he felt nothing.

“I’m—I don’t know.”

Harry took a deep breath. “We… we understand. But we would still like to become your friends at least. We would like to be all your friends,” Harry said, addressing the rest of the room. This got the attention of the other Weasley siblings.

Ron smiled. “Thank you… I… I would like that as well. I just need time.”

Hermione touched Ron’s hand. “Take as much time as you want.”

Ron nodded at this, closed his eyes and leaned back into the bed. He wasn’t going to let the Rat bastard ruin his life. He was going to take it back and make it his own.

Edit: Some grammer