Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry very vividly remembered the first moments of his life. It was as though every detail was etched into his memory, never to be forgotten. His mother was a beautiful green-eyed woman with long red hair flowing down her back in waves, with a smile shining brighter than a thousand stars. And Harry had absolutely adored her. His father had been a tall man with dark brunette almost black hair and kind brown eyes.

He remembered growing up loved and genuinely cared for, with his parents by his side. They would play games together, read books, and tell stories. But that all changed that cursed Halloween night when Harry was approximately one year old.

Every time Harry closed his eyes, he could hear the pleas of his mother ringing in his ears, begging for the intruder to spare her child's life. She had tried to shield him with her own body, but it was all in vain. Harry could see the flashes of green light, the deadly curse that ended her life.

After his parents' death, Harry was shipped off to his mother's relatives, left on their doorstep on a cold October night, wrapped in nothing but a thin blanket.

This was how he ended up here, in literal hell on earth.

His mum's family -he refused to call the, his own- prided themselves in being a perfectly normal family. Of course, having to adopt their freak nephew threw a wrench in that whole plan.

His aunt, a tall, despicable woman with a neck twice as long as it should be, usually just pretended that he didn't exist when she wasn't giving him a long list of chores that had to do if he wanted to stay with them since the age of three.

Worse was his whale of an uncle, who not only neglected him as his aunt did but also abused him physically. Because that's what all of this was. Abuse.

He was treated worse than a slave, clothed in his cousin's old clothes that were about three times too big for him, intended to hide his severely malnourished body. Not that that helped hide his scrawny stature, but it was not like anyone ever noticed, or cared for that matter.

But Harry knew that he was an extraordinary child. Other children couldn't do the things that he did. Hell, even some adults couldn't. He knew it was unusual to be able to recall every aspect of his life perfectly and to absorb information like a sponge. He knew it was more than unusual to make people forget things and to make water float.

He was also able to see people's auras, some of which were more pronounced. The boy supposed they were like him in a sense. Because upon seeing him those people mostly disintegrated into thin air or disappeared differently.

But not even those people could compare to what he felt. On some days he barely felt human, let alone some gender identity that society expected him to.

He, one day, mentioned this to his aunt, hoping to receive some guidance on what he was experiencing.

Harry quickly learned to never do that again.

---

The currently six-year-old now stood in front of the local library, finally having pick-pocketed saved up enough money to buy a few books on how to live alone, should the opportunity arise and he'd be able to get away from his loving relatives.

---

The opportunity indeed arose, and now old Harry could see was red

Crimson liquid dripped from the ceiling, running down the walls, and forming an ever-growing pool at the bottom of his their feet. An almost maniacal gleam formed in their eyes. All their life they had been a bird trapped in a cage, unable to leave, but now that their relatives were lying on the floor, being reduced to nothing but lifeless meat sacks, they felt that they had burst through the iron bars of their cage and could finally fly over the horizon.

Then came the realisation that they were actually standing in front of their relatives' bodies, whose eyes were glazed over.

'Murderer', their mind helpfully supplied as the adrenaline worse off and their blood went cold. The child looked down at their even more pale than usual hands that were dripping with the same crimson liquid that was running down the wall.

'They're just sleeping', Harry tried to reassure themselves, even as his hands were shaking and they unconsciously took a few steps back, tumbling into the cold stone wall behind him, which caused them to snap out of their dazed state.

Aware that the police would probably be called here soon, the child grabbed their uncle's wallet -it wasn't unethical if he was dead anyway, was it?- and a cloak which they wrapped around their small, shaking form and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Text

Harry only stopped running when the sun had already risen and was rapidly approaching its highest point, and collapsed next to a river in the centre of a dense forest.

After a while, when Harry stopped breathing heavily, they upheaved themselves and knelt next to the stream to wash their face, but they paused as they saw the left side of their face in their reflection. A long, raggedy scar, starting beneath her eye, going above their eyebrow, crossing out their lightning scar.

Only now, the ravenette noticed the sticky, barely dried, crimson-red blood streaks adorning their pale cheeks.

Harry raised her hand, lightly tracing the scar with her bony fingers, not even noticing their hand was shaking uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Harry felt like they needed to vomit. It was real. Everything was real. ‘Murderer’, the same voice they had already heard yesterday, said again, except more vigorously this time.

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!”, they hissed, getting louder with each time, grabbing and pulling on their dark locks harshly, letting themselves fall onto their back. Suddenly, the child let out a giggle, bordering on mad. “I’m going crazy. Here I’m sitting, talking to myself."

”Get yourself together, man”, they said before grimacing. “Person. …Yeah, that sounds a tad better. Get yourself together, person.”

Harry groaned and sat up again, scoping out handfuls of freezing water -it was autumn after all- and letting it drizzle over their face, scrubbing away the blood streaks, careful not to get too close to the wound. They didn’t want to aggravate their injury after all.

Then they looked up at the sky. By now, the sun had passed its highest point, indicating it was early afternoon.

"Time to get going, I guess", they murmured beneath their breath, brushing the droplets of sweat from their forehead. Now that the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off, Harry felt exhaustion creep into their bones, their legs slightly shaking when standing up.

---

"Uhm, excuse me, ma'am, I don't mean to disturb you, but do you know where the nearest city is?", innocent green eyes looked up at the elderly woman standing opposite them. Harry decided to play the role of a fearful child, which wasn't all too hard because they were one. Just not in the way one might anticipate. It was not every day that a kid, not even in their double digits, was fleeing from the authorities after all.

Something unfamiliar fluttered in Harry's chest when the woman's warm brown eyes softened, and she smiled at him. "Oh dear, did you get lost, honey? Of course, I'll help you, I'll even escort you back to London, hm? Do you know where your parents are, or where you live?"

'London?', Harry thought incredulously, there was no way they walked that far. Well, they walked at least 14 hours, but their legs were also shorter than those of an adult. It was a ridiculous notion that they managed to get to the outskirts of London that quick while being inujured, but so were all the other things they did, so it shouldn't be as surprising as it was.

On the outside, the six-year-old didn't let anything show of their inner turmoil. Harry looked down, shuffling their feet, not even having to fake the tears forming in their eyes. Normally, they would've been petrified as the Dursleys didn't condone crying but in this situation, it worked quite well for them.

"I don't have anywhere to go. I m- My parents are dead", Harry whispered, still looking down.

"Poor thing", the old lady gasped, pulling the ravenette into a tight hug, not noticing Harry stiffening in her arms. "You'll just have to go with me for now. Is that okay with you, hun?"

The child nodded absentmindedly, barely refraining from sighing in relief when the woman released them.

The way back was spent in silence. But it wasn't awkward. Harry liked listening to the sounds of nature, like the chirping of the birds or the soft swooshing sound the wind made when it blew through the leftover leaves of the old oak trees around them.

After about ten minutes, they arrived at an ancient-looking little house at the edge of London. The child immediately liked it.

After entering the house and getting handed a mug with tea, Harry sat down in an extensive armchair, sipping on their mug, contentedly humming as the warm liquid ran down their throat. They never got to drink tea at the Dursleys.

The child had a blanket that was way too large for them wrapped around their shoulders, but they didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, they seemed to relish in the security the blanket gave them by covering half their face.

When the woman left the room for a minute, Harry's hands hesitantly scraped at the bottom of her pockets before pulling out a yellow pill and dropping it into the woman's cup. There was no going back now.

Five minutes later, the old lady lay, sleeping, her cup of tea almost untouched. Harry almost felt bad for her since that woman -Mrs Smith as she introduced herself- treated her with a level of kindness they hadn't been treated with since they were one year old. But Harry knew very well that Mrs Smith would have turned her into the respective authorities sooner or later.

"Sorry, I can't have you in the way of my plans."

With one final remorseful glance at the old lady, they turned around and fled. Being in London did open so many new opportunities for her after all.

'Always running, aren't you', their subconscious supplied helpfully.

Harry paid it no mind. Not at all.

Chapter Text

Thick clouds of fog drifted through the dreadfully gray streets of London. The roads were buzzing with people attempting to get to their jobs, or appointments on time. Some children were dragging their parents around by the hand, loudly showing their excitement by exclaiming things like "Look!" or "There", pointing at things with their grubby little fingers. Quite frankly, Harry was relieved, if not a bit astonished by the normalcy of it all.

Aunt Petunia always ranted about how they should be grateful that the Dursleys were the ones to take them in. After all, other people, that were not related to them, would treat them way worse. And initially, Harry was inclined to believe them. Adults at school didn't treat them all too well either. Most of the time they ridiculed them for not knowing things that were 'basic knowledge', or wearing such raggedy clothing when Dudley was always dressed finely. The headmaster of the school himself repeatedly accused them of being involved in any and all incidents that happened, whether it was something having been stolen, or a beat-up kid. The staff probably thought of them as some kind of delinquent or troublemaker. After all, that was the image being presented by the Dursleys. And who wouldn't believe such a nice respectful family?

And here they were, where the majority of the crowd if not all of it ignored them. It was pretty nice not being the centre of bad attention for once. Sure, some people were sending them looks ranging from pity to disgust, but that was neither here nor there since they didn't bother the child otherwise.

The raven-haired child felt light-headed. For the first time in their whole life, they truly seemed to be free. It was almost poetic in a way, they supposed, a caged bird finally breaking free.

A loud sudden noise snapped them out of their stupor. The church's bell loudly announced that the clock's hand had hit twelve, the streets becoming even busier than before, due to people leaving buildings for their lunch breaks. With a start, Harry realised that they'd been lost in thought for a lot longer than they intended to. The child quickly ducked into a shallow alleyway that was far less crowded than the streets were, their eyes locking onto a dark-haired woman dressed in robes that were similar to the ones their parents always wore when still alive. Harry could have kissed the woman for being here at such a convenient time. They'd of course expected a wixen to show up in mundane London at one point, but that that happened so early was nothing short of a miracle. As far as they remembered wixen were not prone to interact with mundanes normally. It seemed their plans would be moving on a lot faster than they'd initially believed.

"Apologies Ma'am, could you um", their voice dropped to a whisper, "Could you point me to Diagon Alley? I think I lost my parents in the frenzy and that's where we were supposed to go."

"Oh, you poor thing, of course, I'll show you how to get there. Do you want me to accompany you?", the woman asked kindly, looking down at Harry with her warm brown eyes, that sparkled with worry.
"Um, I'd rather go alone if it's alright, my parents told me not to talk to strangers so much…", Harry trailed off, feeling a bit guilty for once again using someone, but it had to be fine as long as the woman did not come to any harm. At least that was what they told themselves. They also hoped they hadn't offended the woman by rejecting her offer.

The woman, however, just smiled at them warmly, not at all seeming deterred by their refusal: "Well, your parents must be proud that they raised such a smart kid. And Diagon is around the corner anyway. You just go down this alley, turn right and walk into an establishment called the Leaky Cauldron. Ask for Tom, he'll get you where you need to be, okay?

The child nodded their thanks: "Yes, thank you for your help, Ma'am. Have a good day!" After that, they rushed in the direction the woman gave them, smiling victorously. It seemed they'd finally get to where they were always supposed to be.

Harry stopped in front of a large, imposing building, the facade of which was slowly breaking off into tiny pieces. Interestingly enough, mundane people didn't appear to be able to see the building. They theorized that there was some kind of spell laid over it, preventing non-magical beings from seeing it.

The six-year-old took a deep breath, suddenly quite anxious. What if they were wrong and the wixen world didn't actually exist? What if all their memories were just the delusions of a lonely child who craved a sense of belonging? No. Harry shook themselves out of their thoughts. How else, if not for magic existing, would they be able to do things like colouring their teacher's hair blue? It wasn't as if the Dursleys would ever allow them to buy hair dye. Once again, they took a breath and opened the heavy wooden door that was about three or four times bigger than them.

Harry was greeted by the sight of a bunch of people who were, well, for the lack of better word getting hammered. They barely refrained from staring at those people in incredulity. Either it was some kind of weird wixen custom to get drunk midday, or they'd come to the wrong place, after all. It would be weird for the entrance to Diagon Alley to be a shady pub, wouldn't it?

Nevertheless, Harry went to the corner of the room where a bar was situated, hesitantly tapping their fingers against the dark oak wood. "Hello?", they called out softly, almost flinching when an old man with a hunchback suddenly appeared out of thin air, looking at them expectantly. "Uh, I was told to ask for Tom?"

The man smiled at them crookedly. "That would be me, what do you need, little lad?", he said, his voice gruff as if he had just smoked a few cigarettes.

"Would you mind showing me the entrance to Diagon Alley? I'm supposed to meet my parents there", they responded, deciding not to deviate from their earlier excuse too much in case somebody asked. And while they highly doubted that, it was probably best to be careful, seeing as they were technically running from the mundane government right now.

"Of course, just follow me to the backside of the building", the man -Tom said, and Harry contemplated if it was best to follow a stranger for a second, but ultimately shrugged it off.

"First time visiting Diagon Alley, I suppose?", Tom asked, trying to make conversation while leading the child to its entrance.

"Yes! I finally convinced my parents that I could go, and they even allowed me to walk there on my own. Mum and Dad said that it's good for my independence or something", Harry plastered a big smile on their face, rocking back and forth on their heels in only partly faked excitement, grateful that they didn't have to make up anything else to add to their excuse and watched as the old bartender fondly muttered something that sounded like grief-in-doors under his breath. The man didn't seem to notice the puzzled look on their face.

"Well, here we are", he said jovially as they arrived next to a brick wall, but before they could ask what they were doing there Tom pulled out a funny-looking stick and tapped it on the wall in a pattern they couldn't quite discern.

Harry's eyes went wide with wonder as the wall suddenly shook and parted from the middle, revealing a sight they would never be able to forget. Diagon Alley was giant, with buildings twice the size of the Dursleys' house or even bigger. People went around laughing, talking to friends and family, or just in general emanating happiness in loads. But the most prominent thing was the magic you could feel embracing you from even the most far-off corner, lying over the alley like a thin veil. It was almost hard to breathe for them as the unfamiliar but not unwelcoming magic washed over them, almost as if the alley itself was greeting them.

"It's magnificent, innit?", Tom chuckled and patted them on their back, breaking them out of whatever trance they'd been in. It appeared that he was used to this kind of reaction. Maybe mundanes were allowed to enter the alley?

"It is", Harry finally breathed out, still overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it. Well, maybe magic enhanced the overall experience, but Diagon Ally was still far more beautiful than the droll streets of non-magical London.

"Well, I must get going. You know where to find me if you need something, lad", Harry almost flinched back when the other ruffled through their hair, but nonetheless smiled politely at the man, thanking him for his assistance. Although, the smile probably looked more like a grimace. They guessed it was now time to get their hands on some money.

For a few minutes, they wandered aimlessly through the alley, watching people sell the most ridiculous things. Frog eyes? Really? But Harry didn't pay that too much attention anymore when the saw an old woman selling dragon hearts. Dragons existed? And was it even legal to sell their hearts?

They pondered over that for a while before halting in front of a pearl-white building that was probably made of some kind of marble, while the entrance was guarded by little green creatures, barely taller than them. But, they supposed, they would've been taller than them already, if not for the Dursleys' interference. They once read that children were to ingest at least three small meals a day for them to develop correctly.
Regardless, neither the pristine look of the building nor the unfamiliar being were what caught their attention, but rather the sign above, reading Gringotts (i)Bank(/i). They really hoped that their parents had left them something, otherwise, they would have to resort to less-than-ideal methods. It was not like they had any other choices if they wanted to survive.

As they passed the entrance, they gave each of the creatures a small nod to which they responded in kind. Harry then quickly strode up to one of the tellers, relieved to see that there weren't many customers there at that time of the day.

"Excuse me, I'd like to see if my parents left me some kind of inheritance for me?", Harry stated, figuring that the best way to confront these beings was by being blunt. They certainly didn't look like they liked beating around the bush.

"Name?", the creature drawled boredly, ticking something off on a leathery sort of paper.

"Harry, Harry Potter", they responded, not minding its disinterest.

The creature's sharp eyes snapped up to Harry, observing them for a second before nodding. "Well, Heir Potter, if you would follow me to my office", more demanding than asking them to follow it.

Harry followed them quietly for a bit before finally voicing one of the questions that had been on their mind for so long: "Sir if you don't mind me asking, what kind of magical being are you?"

For a moment, the creature seemed surprised over being addressed in such a way but responded briskly: "You may call me Gornuk. We're Goblins which, I was under the impression your kind taught you at least that"

"Um, no. I was raised in the mundane world", the answered truthfully. They might remember certain aspects of their childhood prior to living with the Dursleys but they only knew so much through that.

"Interesting", the goblin muttered under his breath, before opening a door also made out of white marble, "Take a seat, Heir Potter. As I am not fully sure whether you truly are who you say you are, you will be undergoing an inheritance test. Please drop exactly five drops of your blood onto the parchment laid out in front of you."

Harry nodded, sitting down and grabbing a dagger lying that was probably intended to serve as the utensil to provide their blood with, only slightly wincing as the slashed their palm with it. They'd experienced worse pain, after all.

They watched as drops of blood slowly slid down their hand, quickly pulling it away after the fifth drop fell and were overcome with amazement as a script in the same colour as their blood slowly appeared on the parchment.

When the letters finally stopped forming they grabbed the parchment, growing more confused the further they read.

(i)Inheritance test for Harry James Potter-Black:

Magical Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Father/s: James Fleamont Potter, Sirius Orion Black (Blood-adopted)
Mother: Lily Marie Evans-Potter
Godmother/s: Alice Rose Longbottom (nee; Fortescue), Marlene McKinnon
Godfather/s: Remus John Lupin, Severus Tobias Snape

Inheritance:
Lord Potter(J.F.P.)
Lord Peverell(J.F.P)
Heir Black(S.O.B.)
Heir Slytherin(L.M.E.P)

Abilities:

Parseltongue
Parselmagic
Metamorphmagus

Blocks etc.:

Glamour [pb; A.P.W.B.D]
Loyalty Potion [pb; A.P.W.B.D, broken]
Magical core block; 50% [pb; A.P.W.B.D, broken]
Horcrux [pb; T.M.R/L.V](/i)