Void-Touched 1
Harry James Potter lay in his cupboard and cried. His entire body felt like it was on fire. It was just more of the same, but he hadn't been beaten this badly since Dudley went off to Smeltings. He had thought it was a good day. He'd come home from Stonewall and no one was around, so he could swipe some food from the fridge before dashing off to the library to do his homework. It was only when he came home to find Vernon and Petunia glaring at him that he knew something bad was about to happen to him.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Apparently, someone at Stonewall had made a mistake. He'd managed to convince them to give him his reports rather than mailing them, as his Aunt and Uncle certainly wouldn't notice not receiving them. Without Dudley around, he could actually do well in classes.
At least, he could do so until they were sent an invitation to the end of year awards ceremony and found out how well he was doing. Of course, he had to be cheating. A freak like him couldn't do so well in classes! After the yelling came a beating from his fat uncle, before Vernon threw him into the cupboard.
He wasn't sure what to do. From this point on, they'd actually want to see his reports if only to make sure he wasn't 'cheating', and if he did well he'd get more beatings. He sighed, body aching as he started to fall asleep.
That's when things got weird.
He was standing near a street light, on a strip of land floating in a gray sky and other bits of land could be seen in the distance. He seemed to be standing on a sidewalk, with part of the street to the side. Taking a slow step forward, he saw a figure slowly appear out of the mist. Shrouded in dark shadows, it was a man wearing old-fashioned clothing. His eyes were black pools, and his voice was oddly placid as he spoke, "Hello, Harry. You've had a hard life, have you not? You've done well in spite of difficult circumstances." The figure's eyes glinted with curiosity, "This interests me. I am the Outsider, and this is my Mark."
Suddenly, Harry's hand began to burn and as he lifted his hand, he saw a strange tatoo appear on the back of his hand; it slowly formed into some sort of strange symbol. He hissed at the pain, glancing up at the man. "What... is going on?" For some reason, Harry found himself unable to move.
The man continued, strange black eyes unwavering as he regarded Harry, lifting a hand to brush his finger over Harry's brow, "There are forces in the world and beyond the world, great forces that are beyond normal magic. Such forces now serve your will. Use this newfound power, my gift to you." Suddenly, the man performed an elegant bow, "Come find me." He disappeared into the mist and shadow.
Some part of Harry wanted to just sit down to wait for the man to return. He didn't like getting played with, and this mysterious figure was doing just that. But the mark on his hand told him something strange was going on, and one thing he learned living with the Dursleys was that you never took chances when something bad could happen. It was best to follow along, at least for now.
He moved forward, reaching the edge of the platform. He could see the sky all around him, and in the distance another platform; it was perhaps ten meters away. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair and saw the tattoo on his hand glow briefly, and he considered. He had a feeling. He didn't know where it came from, but...
Lifting his hand, he stretched it out towards the other platform. He felt a warmth rush through him and suddenly he was standing on the other platform. He turned, and looked back, and saw the platform he'd originally appeared on, complete with street light. He had teleported or something! "Okay, this could be cool," he murmured to himself.
From platform to platform he went, growing more skilled at this strange form of travel, until he reached the end where the Outsider was standing and looking away into the sky. "Okay, who are you? Outsider, or whatever, what's that mean? Where am I?"
The man turned towards him and smirked, seeming to ignore his question, "You have a destiny, Harry." He chuckled, "Destiny. Some might call such a thing a curse. We are presently in the Void. My home." He gestured with a hand towards the vast expanse of gray. "It is very rare that I am able to touch a person's destiny and leave them my Mark. You are the first in over a hundred years." He tilted his head to the side, "Remember, Harry. Live your life as you wish. Not as others wish you to."
"I will be watching."
HPHPHPHPHP
Harry woke up. Blinking in confusion, he looked around. That was one hell of a dream. He carefully looked at the old, battered digital watch he wore, and saw that it was past two in the morning. He blinked. Why didn't he hurt? Vernon had really worked him over. He carefully reached up to turn on the light, and gasped when he saw a familiar tattoo on his hand. "Blood hell, it wasn't a dream?" He lifted his shirt, and saw unblemished skin. "I was bruised to high heaven a bit ago," he said to himself, blinking. "Well, it certainly wasn't a dream with the tatoo. And somehow, I feel fine."
As Harry moved, something dark dripped down his cheek onto his mattress, and he frowned, lifting his hand. It came away with some dark liquid on his fingers. "What the hell?" He picked up an old shirt he no longer used from the side of the bed and rubbed it over his face, coming away with more black... stuff. "What happened?" With no response forthcoming, he sighed, thinking before deciding that there wasn't anything he could do about it right now, anyway. He certainly couldn't tell his Aunt and Uncle he needed help.
After a moment's consideration, Harry slipped quietly out of the cupboard. They didn't lock him in anymore, thankfully, not since he'd started Stonewall. Tossing the old shirt into the trash, he slipped out into the back yard and looked around, before lifting his left hand, concentrating. Another flush of heat flowed through him and he ended up on the other side of the yard. "Yeah, this is cool. I wonder..." He knew what was on the other side of the fence, having hidden there so often from Dudley. He reached out his hand and focused and soon appeared beyond the fence. "All right, so it's not limited to sight. Have to see how far it is, and go on from there."
Some practice and experimentation yielded more results. He could teleport around ten meters. He needed to know what the target looked like, either through sight or experience. He couldn't simply teleport to the other side of a wall. Multiple jumps in a row made him tired. All in all, a very useful ability. No longer would the Dursleys be able to lock him up.
He just wondered who this Outsider was, and why he decided to 'mark' him.
HPHPHPHPHP
The next few weeks were a trying time for Harry, some things going better than others.
In order to hide the strange mark on his hand, he wrapped the hand in gauze from the bathroom, telling his aunt he'd burnt himself while doing the cooking. She just wrinkled her nose and told him he better not have let anything 'icky' fall into their food. He later picked up a set of dark gray cotton gloves from a thrift store, wearing one over his left hand to cover the mark.
He wasn't allowed to go to the awards ceremony; he told the school that his guardians had a prior engagement that he was obligated to attend as well. They believed him easily enough. He'd long ago learned to not tell people about how he was treated by his relatives. At best, they somehow forgot all about it. At worst, they told his Aunt and Uncle about his 'lies' and he received further abuse.
Dudley also came home from Smeltings and that led to even more trouble. Harry spent all of his time at the library when possible, but occasionally he found himself once more running as Dudley and his friends took part in their favorite game: Harry Hunting. Luckily, ever since that dream, he was far more fit than before and found himself able to run a lot better than before. Not much faster, but he could sprint far longer and keep running at a good pace almost forever.
Harry practiced his strange ability more, and figured out something else that could be done with it. While looking at the strange mark on his hand, he had focused on it and tried to figure out what it was doing, exactly. A few hours yielded no results, but he was patient and had little else to do in his cupboard. Eventually, he felt that warmth behind his eyes and he instinctively let it flow. Suddenly, he could see in his cupboard as if the light were on. Oddly enough, the entire area seemed to have a strange, red glow.
He later discovered that only his Aunt and Uncle's house glowed on the street. When he examined the house from outside, there were also veins of other colors pulsing throughout the red light: blue and yellow and a dark purple. He still had absolutely no clue what that meant. But he could apparently see in the dark? That was useful.
As the weeks passed, Harry got into a routine. Wake up, make breakfast for his relatives, sneaking as much as he could in the process. Either run to the library to read or teleport up to the attic to do the same. He'd even 'borrowed' a lamp to plug in so he could read at night when everyone else went to bed. The Dursleys never came up there; he wasn't sure if Dudley or Vernon could fit through the small trapdoor. Come home in time for dinner. Avoid Dudley's and his friends' attempts to pummel him. Make dinner. Go into his cupboard so Dudley didn't get ideas. Steal food from the kitchen when possible to augment his meager meals. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
One day a little over a week before Harry's birthday, that routine was broken. As he was picking up the mail in front of the letterbox, he saw one was addressed to him. From a Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seriously? He was suddenly reminded that the Outsider guy mentioned that his mark was 'beyond normal magic'. That implied there was normal magic out there. Not wanting his relatives to take the letter before he could read it, Harry slipped the letter into his cupboard before heading into the kitchen. Setting the letters on the table, he quietly slipped back out and entered his cupboard, picking up his library books and slipping the letter into one.
He slipped out the door before they could stop him and after a moment's thought slipped out of sight behind some bushes and blinked into the attic. Sitting down near the window, he opened the letter to read. It only led to more questions.
Who the hell was Albus Dumbledore? He was accepted? How, when he didn't apply? They await his owl?
Harry rubbed his brow, and considered. It might be a way to get away from the Dursleys. If it is real. After a few moments, he opened up a notebook and wrote in clear lettering: I accept your invitation. I am unsure where to get the materials listed, nor if I have enough money for them. I also have no clue about magic, so am really hoping this isn't some sort of prank. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. Assistance would be appreciated. Harry Potter
Harry then teleported behind the bushes in the back yard, and looked around. Spotting a brown owl sitting on the edge of the fence, he approached, "Uh." I feel so stupid, he thought, before continuing, "Can you take this back to wherever it's supposed to go?" The owl made a soft barking sound and accepted the envelop and winged away.
Releasing a breath, Harry murmured, "Well, let's see where this takes me." He moved behind the bushes and again teleported into the attic to read.
HPHPHPHPHP
It was the next morning, and Minerva McGonagall was in her office. She looked up as a brown owl winged its way through her open window. The elderly woman smiled as she accepted the letter, and watched it fly away before reading. She frowned, folding the letter again. Harry Potter didn't know about magic? Did his guardians never tell him anything? She considered. Albus had wanted to be notified when Harry's response came, but she was a little worried about the response. Even if his guardians hadn't told him anything, Albus should have. After a few moments, she decided that she would be the one to talk to the boy.
Decision made, McGonagall decided to handle this now. She got to her feet and approached her fireplace. Throwing floo powder into the fireplace, she stated, "The Leaky Cauldron," and disappeared into the now-green flames. Emerging from the other side, she left the inn, waving her wand and transfiguring her clothes into muggle wear. Adding a few more spells so muggles wouldn't spot her arrival, she apparated to the park she remembered to be near Harry's home.
Arriving, she walked down the street slowly and eventually approached Harry's home. Stepping onto the premises, she could feel powerful magic from the wards that were on the property. Approaching the front door, she knocked upon it, and a painfully-slender woman, presumably Petunia Dursley, answered the door.
"Yes?" she asked, frowning.
"Mrs. Dursley, I'm here to speak to you and your nephew, Harry Potter?" McGonagall stated.
"Who are you, and what do you want him? Has he caused trouble for you too?" the woman asked, still frowning.
"No? I am here from Hogwarts, to discuss his schooling," McGonagall began.
The woman blanched, "He is not attending that school. He is already attending Stonewall, and will stay there!" She slammed the door, and McGonagall could hear her yelling for Harry. Sliding her wand out of her sleeve, McGonagall gestured and unlocked the door before she entered the house, looking around with a frown. She could see Petunia in the narrow hall leading into the kitchen. When the woman saw McGongall walk into her house, she said, "Out! Out, you are not wanted here."
"Mrs. Dursley, you need to listen to me," McGonagall stated with a severe look. "Harry's parents already enrolled him into Hogwarts before they passed, and you cannot stop him from attending. Nor should--" About to say more, she saw the door near Petunia open, and she gasped. She could see a tiny space with a bed and little else. "Is this where you have him sleep?"
The look McGonagall received was one part terror, one part anger. Deciding that she was caught anyway, Petunia snapped, "It's all he deserves. If you think differently, you take him. We never wanted the freak anyway!" Beside her, Harry looked worried at these events, taking a step back towards the cupboard again.
McGonagall was incensed. "Freak? You call your own nephew a freak?" It took all of her control not to hex the woman. She knew Albus had been wrong to send him here. And he had told her over and over how loved and cared for he was! She really shouldn't do this as there was a procedure for this sort of thing with the DMLE, but McGonagall was angry. "All right, Harry. Can you get all of your things, so we can go? Make sure you get everything, as you apparently won't be returning."
"Um, okay, ma'am," he said, giving Petunia a cautious look and entered the cupboard. There was some rooting around, and he said, "I don't have anything to put my clothes in," he said over his shoulder.
As she approached, McGonagall gestured with her wand and a large leather bag appeared. "Use this. We'll have to get you a real one, but that will last a few hours."
"All right," he said as he started to load the bag with oversized shirts, pants, and other clothing. He looked around, adding a few books. "I'll need to drop off some library books if I'm not going to be staying here anymore," he added.
"We can do that on the way to Diagon Alley," McGonagall said. "Anything else you need to collect?" At his head shake, she nodded and said, "Then come on, Harry."
Harry followed her out the door, hoping he'd never have to return.
HPHPHPHPHP
After a quick stop at the library to drop off Harry's library books, McGonagall led him to the small park not far from Privet Drive. Harry asked, "Uh, where are we going to go, anyway?"
"First, we will go to Diagon Alley, which is where the magical shopping district is," McGonagall answered him. "We'll go to the bank to get a vault key for your trust vault and disable the old one. Once you've gotten your things, I will take you to my home while I contact a friend of mine."
"A friend?" Harry asked her, watching her cautiously. You learned quickly to take care, if you wanted to survive with the Dursleys.
"Yes. I need to speak to her about where you'll be staying now, she'll help me with all the legalities. I should have spoken to her first," she admitted to Harry, "But I couldn't leave you in that home. It's obvious that they mistreat you."
Harry shrugged, and said, "It's fine. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be used to it, Harry," McGonagall said with a slight frown.
He shrugged again, almost casually. It was a few moments later that what she had said before registered. "Wait, trust vault?"
McGongall nodded, "Yes, your father's family was very wealthy. I'm sure he provided you with a trust vault; it's normal for wealthier families. Such things are for pocket money and paying for your education and such."
"I actually have money?" Harry just stared at her, "Petunia and Vernon always told me my parents were jobless drunks who died in a car accident." The idea that they actually cared enough to provide for him surprises him, even though he refused to believe his relatives. Being told something often enough makes you start to believe it whether you want to or not.
"The more I hear," hissed McGonagall, "The more I want to go back to that house and curse each and every one of them." She shook her head slowly with a sigh, "But that could cause complications, later." It was like she was trying to convince herself of this fact. Taking a breath, she offered her hand, "Take my hand, I will be moving us to Diagon Alley through magic. It will feel like you're being squeezed, and may be uncomfortable your first time. I'd normally show you the Knight Bus, but I want to avoid undue attention. We'll handle that later." She paused, and then added, "Oh." She gestured with her wand, and a small baseball cap appeared. "Put that on, your scar isn't as obvious as I'd expected, but best to be safe."
Harry opened his mouth, about to explain that it had faded recently, but caught himself. He couldn't trust her, not yet. Instead he nodded, taking her hand after putting on the hat. A few moments later, he felt an intense squeezing sensation as everything went dark, and he fell on his knees on cobblestones. He was in a small cul de sac off a wide street.
"Here we are. Diagon Alley."