Another Chance
June 16th, 1990
Harry startled awake, and hit his head against the cupboard door handle. He had dreamt something extremely bizarre, and it had seemed… almost real. But he was nine years old, sitting in the cupboard under the stairs of number four, Privet Drive. He was living with his horrible family, and he was a freak. Magic? Yeah, right. Would’ve been a nice solution to all of his problems. Too bad it wasn’t real. Why had he even thought it was, for a second?
Just as he sat up in his bed, he shrieked in shock. He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, praying no one had woken up from his reaction to seeing a dim figure crouching at the opposite side of his cupboard. Not that that was very far away, it was rather close.
”Shhh!” the figure hushed. “I am Death! Your dream was real!”
That did nothing to calm the nine year old, which Death realised. ”You remember your dream?”
Harry nodded, still frozen in fear and shock. “It wasn’t a dream. It was your previous life. This is your new chance.”
Suddenly, his dream seemed very real, just like when he had woken up. Magic was real? Death was real? He had died and talked to Death, and… gone back in time?
”I remember,” Harry whispered, still wary and scared, but a little excited. Death grinned at him. “But… I still feel like I’m nine? But I also feel kinda super angry about Dumbledore. How is- I feel like yesterday was yesterday, but- I also killed Voldemort yesterday? How does this make any sense?”
Death smiled at him reassuringly. “Well, it’s good that you still feel like you are nine,” they told the boy. “You will probably need some days to readjust, but you will be fine.” Their eyes got a mischievous glint. “You can try some magic. Since you haven’t started Hogwarts yet, they won’t be picked up as underage magic.”
Harry returned their grin. “I’ll definitely do that!”
Death smiled, but soon got serious again. “The most important thing however, is that you go to Diagon Alley and Gringotts. You know about the compulsions, right? You still have them, you just don’t feel them as much because you know the truth. They will remove them at Gringotts, you can trust the goblins.”
Harry nodded.
“I will take you to London right now, if you are ready?” Death asked. Harry nodded again. “I’ll make the Dursleys forget about you for the day, and I will accompany you on the train.”
- · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Taking the train with Death gave Harry some time to talk to them. He learned more about his past (or his future?), about Dumbledore, his “friends”, and how they had controlled his live. There was one thing Death could only guess the answer to, though.
“Why’d you think he did it?”
“I’m not sure, actually,” Death admitted. “It’s easy to say it’s his image, but seriously– all that just to get remembered as a good guy?”
“Yeah…” Harry agreed, lost in thought for a moment.
“It’s probably easier to understand if we knew more about his youth, with Grindelwald and what not,” Death said. “I didn’t really pay much attention to them at that time, there were way more exciting things happening in some magical community in Africa which I got obsessed with…”
Harry giggled. “Well, it doesn’t matter why he did it,” he said, determination in his voice. “I know what he did, and that’ll have to be enough to change it.”
Death grinned. They were probably imagining this to become plenty entertaining. “That’s the spirit, kid!”
Soon enough, Harry and his companion arrived in London. Death had disguised themself as a mere mortal for the occasion, and was sporting a black Nirvana t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and black liberty spikes that had middle-aged women looking at them with distaste. They looked about seventeen, and seemed like they were having great fun. Harry himself certainly appreciated the irony of Death wearing Nirvana merch.
It was a twenty minute walk from Waterloo Station to the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry, being nine years old after all, was drawn in by the bustling streets of muggle London, never having been here in this life, and the time went by quickly.
Death left him outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I just wanted to make sure you would be safe for the trip. You don't need me here, and I have already spent too long in the world of you mortals. I’ll watch you from my home, but you probably won’t see me for a while. I hope.”
Harry nodded. “Thanks for… well– everything. The new life. And your company for the train ride.”
Death grinned, and ruffled through Harry’s hair. “Go change the past, kid!”
And they were gone.
Harry looked around, but none of the muggles walking past him had noticed anything, of course. Determined, Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron. Despite the warm weather, Harry had put on a big rain jacket , and it came in his favor now, with none of the patrons recognizing him. He hurried through the bar, and promptly stood before the brick wall hiding the entrance to Diagon Alley.
He suddenly remembered that he didn’t have his wand, which he needed to open the passage. He thought for a second, then entered the bar again, and approached a woman who was sitting alone at the closest table.
“Excuse me?” he started, trying to sound small and childlike, before remembering that he actually was a small child. “My mum is Diagon Alley, and I was supposed to– Well, I’m not– I can’t open the barrier without a wand–”
The woman smiled warmly at him. “Want my help, kid?”
Harry nodded. “Yes, please, thank you!” he said, sounding relieved.
The woman swiftly walked over to the barrier, tapping a brick, and it opened.
“Thank you so much,” Harry repeated, smiling at her.
“Off you go find your mum, kid,” she said, moving to enter the Leaky Cauldron again, and Harry hurried through the barrier.
Entering Gringotts felt… weird. The last time he had been there, was when he had robbed the bank. Luckily, none of the goblins knew that, so Harry made his way to the front desk without any (interruptions).
“Excuse me,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I’m Harry Potter, and I would like to take some sort of identity test and also some test for my magic…?”
The goblin mustered him, then turned and called for another goblin standing nearby.
“I’m Járnvilji,” the second goblin said. “ I will do an identity test and magical core scan for you. Follow me.”
Harry hurried after Járnvilji. They entered a corridor, and then an office. Harry was amazed at the interior. He again felt bad for robbing the bank in his first life.
Járnvilji placed a piece of parchment and a small knife on the table.
“Sit down,” he told Harry. “You have to put three drops of blood on the parchment.”
Harry sat down, but didn’t pick up the knife immediately. “Does this also test for external magic placed on my core? Because I think I have some compulsions on me.”
Járnvilji mustered him, but nodded. “It will.” It probably wasn’t everyday a nine year old came into the bank alone and asked to be checked for compulsions.
Harry picked up the knife, and made a small cut in his left thumb. It didn’t hurt much, the knife was extremely sharp. It was probably goblin made. Not that Harry would be able to tell the difference.
He dropped three drops of his blood on the parchment, and watched as letters began to form on it. More and more letters appeared, and the parchment extended to make place for the long list of information. When it was finally finished, the goblin snatched it up from the table.
“Yes, this seems correct.” Járnvilji stared at the parchment, and Harry was sure he looked worried, for a small moment. “You certainly do have some compulsions on your core.”
He put the parchment down on the table again, turning it towards Harry, who began to read.
Hadrian James Potter
9 years, 10 months and 16 days old (16.06.1990)
Birthday: 31.07.1980
Father: James Charlus Potter
Mother: Lily Jane Potter (née Evans)
Godfather: Sirius Orion Black (Blood Adoption)
Legal Guardian: Sirius Orion Black
Titles:
Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter
Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell
Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin, by Conquest
Master of Death
Vaults:
Eligible now:
Potter Trust Vault: 346.700 Galleons, 23.800 Sickles, 1.200 Knuts
Eligible on 11th birthday:
Potter Vault: 12.528.840 Galleons, 625.732 Sickles, 583 Knuts, 846 Items
Peverell Vault: 5.467.268 Galleons, 273 Items
Black Vault: 47.265.937 Gallons, 483.758 Sickles, 7.365 Knuts, 2.473 Items
Slytherin Vault: 23.946.373 Galleons, 43.752 Sickles, 5.937 Items
External Magic on Core:
Horcrux of Tom Riddle placed on 31.10.1981 by T. M. Riddle
Compulsions placed on 1.11.1981 by A. P. W. B. Dumbledore:
Block on Family Magicks
Compulsion of trust: Albus Dumbledore, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts, Order of the Phoenix, Weasley Family, Rubeus Hagrid
Compulsion of distrust: Slytherin House, Severus Snape, Death Eaters, Ministry of Magic
Compulsion of love: Ginerva Weasley (will activate gradually from 13th birthday)
Compulsion of recklessness
Abilities and affinities:
Hereditary abilities:
Parselmagic (Slytherin Family Magicks)
Metamorphmagus (Black Family Magicks)
Legilimency (Peverell Family Magicks)
Affinities:
Enchanting
Potions
Runic Magic
Dark Magic
Harry didn’t know what to think about first. Death had told about a lot of the bad stuff, but seeing it spelled out? Everything suddenly got a lot more real. He felt scared, and it was maybe just because he was suddenly nine years old, but he had never felt so scared in his first life. For a moment, he wished he had never found out about the lies in his life.
And his name was Hadrian. This was something he hadn’t expected in any way, but his name wasn’t actually Harry. He immediately decided he would use Hadrian from now on. Not only was it a practical way to distinguish his first life from his current, it also distanced him from the role of “Harry Potter” that Dumbledore had created.
And his abilities! This was probably the most positively surprising part. He hadn’t had these abilities in his first life — except for Parselmagic, which the Horcrux probably had something to do with — due to Dumbledore blocking his family magick.
Dark Magic. Hadrian was intrigued. His whole first life, he had learned that dark magic was bad, but now he knew not to trust anything he had learned from Ron, Hermione, or Dumbledore.
At the same time, Voldemort was a dark wizard, like most of his Death Eaters, and they were undeniably bad people. But did the magic really automatically make you bad? These people had used dark magic as a tool to do bad things, and Hadrian could think of many ways to use neutral or light magic to do bad things. He made a mental note to research dark magic and its history for himself, as the sources from his first life hardly could be called unbiased.
Hadrian looked back at his hereditary magical abilities. He was keen to start experimenting with metamorphmagic, and tried, for a moment, turning his hair green, before remembering that his family magick was still blocked. He spent a second being angry at Dumbledore, before looking over at the Vault section.
Hadrian had a fuck ton of money.
He was stupidly rich. And he had thought the trust vault he had seen in his first life was a lot? No — that was only a fraction of his wealth. He really was a multimillionaire. He was a little disgusted by the fact for a moment, but promised himself he would use his extensive wealth to do good.
While Hadrian had been lost in his thoughts, another goblin had entered the room.
Járnvilji cleared his throat. “Are you done reading? I understand that it’s a lot to take in.”
Hadrian nodded. “It’s fine, I’m done reading,” he said.
“I would assume you are gonna want those compulsions removed,” Járnvilji said. “This is Sagnamáli, our resident cursebreaker specializing in breaking enchantments. He will be able to break the compulsions on your core without problems, for a fee, of course.”
Sagnamáli grinned at Hadrian, who nodded again. “Yes, please. I want them gone as soon as possible.”
“Quite understandable.” Járnvilji waved a hand at one of the cabinets, and some more parchment and a quill flew out of it and began writing by itself in the air. “The payment for this and the scan will be taken from your trust vault. For the family magick block however, we don’t currently have anyone here who is qualified to remove it. You would have to wait a few hours at least, but we could have someone come by today, for an extra fee.”
”That would be perfect,” Hadrian said.
“Let’s get this over with, then,” Sagnamáli announced. “It won’t take more than a few minutes, but you will need to be unconscious. If you have any occlumency shields, it would help to let them down for this. Are you ready?”
Hadrian nodded. “Let’s get this done,” he agreed.
- · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
When Hadrian woke up, he felt pain. Excruciating pain, just behind his collarbones, but also in what felt like his brain.
“Apologies,” he heard Sagnamáli say. “We didn’t want to wake you up before the pain was gone, but the strength of the compulsions made it interfere with the ritual. Everything was still safe for you, of course, it just made you wake up a minute earlier.”
The pain slowly dissipated, as Sagnamáli performed what he guessed were some sort of scans on his person. At least he waved his hand over Hadrian, so he must be doing something.
”Well then, you should be fine now,” Sagnamáli said. “Do you feel alright?”
“Yes,” Hadrian affirmed, getting up. “Never been better, in fact.”
He felt like he had awakened from a dream that was his whole life. His head was clear, for the first time ever, and he could think . He closed his eyes for a moment, appreciating how sharp his mind felt.
“Is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Potter?” Járnvilji asked him.
“Yes, I would like to visit my trust vault,” Hadrian responded.
“Then follow me,” Járnvilji motioned to the door, which the two of them exited after Hadrian had waved goodbye to Sagnamáli.
“Gripkrókr will take you to your vault,” Járnvilji said, gesturing to another goblin standing at the end of the corridor. “This time, we have already confirmed your identity, but for another time, a vault key would be convenient.”
Hadrian knew what Járnvilji was doing. “Then I’d love one made for me,” he said. “For a fee, of course, which you may take from my trust vault.”
Járnvilji grinned at him. “You got it. Well then, after you visit your vault, you may return in three hours to get your block removed and your key.”
Hadrian nodded, and followed Gripkrókr.
The ride down to Hadrian’s vault was fun, but he hurried to get over with it.
He took about fifty galleons from the vault, then swiftly exited the bank.
- · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Four hours later, Hadrian held on to the Knight Bus for dear life.
After leaving Gringotts, he had gone straight to Fortescue’s and gotten himself a large spaghetti ice cream and relaxed for an hour.
Then he had gone and bought a mokeskin wallet to put his money in, before making his way to Flourish and Blotts, buying a whole array of books on various subjects, including runes, wizarding politics, pureblood culture, wizarding traditions, enchanting, and all the first year course books he had remembered.
Afterwards, Hadrian had gone back to Gringotts, got his family magick block removed and received his vault key.
He had then roamed the Alley some more, but hadn’t bought anything, rather taking mental notes of where he wanted to go in the future. He had especially lingered around the entrance to Knockturn Alley, where he had a feeling he would find more interesting books about some subjects there. But as a nine year old Hadrian Potter, without a wand, he didn’t yet dare.
And now he was struggling to hold on to his seat, while holding a small suitcase.
The books he had bought had been way too many to carry by hand, so he had bought the suitcase, which was magically extended to about double the space. These enchantments, the salesperson had said, were harder the more space you wanted to create in relation to the original space, so just a doubling like that suitcase was child's play, while something like Newt Scamander’s suitcase was on the “practically impossible” end of the scale.
The suitcase Hadrian had bought had been big enough to carry all his books, however, so he didn’t care much that it wasn't a that impressive piece of magic.
Finally, the Knight Bus arrived at Wisteria Walk (he hadn’t wanted to reveal his exact address, even if he didn’t think they suspected he was Hadrian Potter), and he walked the short distance to number four, Privet Drive.
At Gringotts, Hadrian had exchanged some galleons for pounds, which he would use to buy food. But he didn’t want to do it today, he wanted to be sure to get into the house while the Dursleys wouldn’t notice him.
He slipped into the house, and entered his cupboard without his aunt or uncle noticing.
Hadrian spent the rest of the day reading his new books, happy he for once wasn’t bothered by the Dursleys.