Chapter Text
I gasp and sat up from what felt like more than a nightmare. Moving my hand to my chest, I tried to calm myself with feeling my heart beat and the movement from deep breaths. I try to still myself, but instead I realize something is wrong and begin to panic further. Glancing up, I find myself sitting in my childhood room—or rather, the cupboard under the stairs.
My panic increases.
I try to think what I was doing last. I vaguely remember making my way home with Ginny after dropping Teddy off at Platform 9¾ for his first year at Hogwarts. I apparated to my home—No. 12 Grimmauld Place, London. I opened the front door and remembered nothing more.
So why am I here?
I try to take stock of any other changes there may be, if any exist outside of my change of environment. I then notice my small hands, realizing I must be very small child in order to even fit in the cupboard. I see a little toy soldier, a few crayons, and a few sheets of paper lying on the little shelf. One of those sheets, I assumed, was Aunt Petunia’s most recent chores sheet for the week. On it, she listed out what to do on what day and/or what needs to get done by a certain day. And this list? It’s always dated.
Week of June 2 – June 8, 1991
So, somehow I’ve time traveled, though I’m not quite sure how or why. Even the time of year is a little odd—it isn’t like anything interesting would happen for another few weeks. Anyways, if this is actually happening (and not yet another weirdly realistic dream), I think I’ll actually try to change a few things for the better; I don’t particularly care for the whole “don’t mess with time” thing Hermione sometimes nagged about after the whole time-turner business back in 3 rd year.
I realize at this point that I still owned a watch; it has a cracked face and it would die within the next week or two if I remember right. It was one of the many old items of Dudley’s that got tossed once broken. I managed to save it and get a few months’ worth extra out of it. But I was glad I still had it, as it let me know the time of day.
6:25 am
Well that’s good to know. Petunia used to get me up by 7 to make food for the family by 7:15, so that Vernon could leave for work by 7:45.
I have 35 minutes to decide what I want to do. Pulling over a crayon and a sheet of paper, I try to write out the pros and cons of staying verses leaving.
Staying:
Pros:
1) More time for planning, as I’d wouldn’t have to deal with anything “new” straight away.
2) I can go to the zoo again and see if I could get more time to talk with the boa constrictor that I let free last time.
3) I can see Hagrid fold up Uncle Vernon’s shot gun again.
Cons:
1) Chores
2) Harry Hunting
3) More chores
4) Putting up with Aunt Petunia’s rants and schemes to be “normal” and Uncle Vernon’s just...everything...
5) Do I really need to list more?
Leaving :
Pros:
1) Don’t have to deal with the Dursleys.
2) Maybe see if I can get into the wizarding world early? Maybe even undetected before everyone realizes I’m there?
3) If I can get into Diagon, maybe go to the goblins, and get money to pay for way to consistently get meals? And not be locked up!?
Cons:
1) “Go with the flow” instead of planning—taking each day as they come.
2) Getting to London as a 10 year old.
3) Somehow being “found” and brought back to Privet Drive.
Staring at my list, I know which way I’m leaning towards—the high risk, high reward method of leaving. Sure I won’t have a definite plan, but what’s the likelihood I follow the plan I try to make anyways? Looking at my watch again, I see it is now 6:35. There isn’t much time left before Aunt Petunia makes her way downstairs to get me up.
I see a small sack in the corner (what was my regular bag for primary), grab it, and fill it with what little I own. The little toy soldier is packed in with the few pieces of clothing I own. Turning towards the door, I will my magic to respond and unlock the cupboard. It works.
I very slowly open the door and sneak into the kitchen. I know Aunt Petunia keeps her emergency stash of cash in a tin above the fridge. I very quietly and quickly get into it, taking out a stack of 10 pound notes that should be more than enough to get me to London. And for a return trip if everything goes wrong.
The tin is carefully placed back in its spot. I see it is now 6:45 and I begin hearing a bit of shuffling from upstairs—Aunt Petunia is likely just waking up. I need to go. Now.
I move to the front door, quietly unlock the door and make my way outside. Fortunately, no one is out and about yet. Unfortunately, that won’t be the case for long. I make my way to a bus stop a few streets down from my own and wait; if I recall right, it will come around 7:11am or so. It does and (great for me) the driver does not ask any questions about why a 10 year old kid (who looks to be about 8, to be honest) is getting on by himself at this time in the morning.
T he bus makes its way to the nearest transit station—there I catch a transfer to London and move to the underground to make my way to the closest stop near to Charing Cross Road. A few commuters look at me kind of funny, but it is London, they don’t stop and ask. They just walk on by.
Now standing before the Leaky Cauldron, I take a deep breath and enter, hoping that things will work out.
The interior of the pub is dirty and old, but it’s almost like a breath of fresh air. It’s undamaged; people are joyous, but still a bit sleepy at this time of day. It hasn’t been touched by war or tragedy in over 10 years. This? I want to keep this.
I make sure my bangs are covering my scar before walking up to the counter. There, I ask Tom if he could open up the way to Diagon Alley for me. He quirks an eyebrow in question (likely due to my tiny stature), but does so anyways without further interrogat ion .
Seeing the alley again takes my breath away. I quickly regain my composure and make my way down to Gringotts, hoping they could help.
I nod to the goblins posted at the entrance; they seemed quite surprised, but nodded me through. Instead of getting into one of the many lines, signifying the start of a busy day at the bank, I walk towards the back to the head goblin sitting behind a giant stack of paperwork. I wait to be acknowledged. The goblin finished the paper he was working on, moved it aside, and began, “What can Gringotts do for you today that can’t be done with one of the regular tellers? Time is money, you know, and mine cannot be wasted.”
“ Sorry for disturbing you Mister Goblin, but may I speak with you in private? I seem to have had a slight issue with time befall onto me,” I quickly respond.
I get an eyebrow raise and a nod. He gets off his chair and beckons me to follow him into a meeting room. Once the door is sealed, he begins, “An issue with time, you say? Well, that is something that can be verified with one of our more extensive blood tests. Know that if it does not show up on the test, I can and will charge you for wasting my time.” He pulls out a small potion, dagger, quill, and parchment. “7 drops of blood into the potion will do. Three is for the standard test, seven is for the advanced one,” he states before I could even ask.
I do as asked, clean the blade, and waited for the quill to write.
Born Name: Hydrus Regulus Black
Born: June 13, 1980
Temporal Displacement via Black Family Magics: September 1, 2009 → June 3, 1991
Father: Regulus Arcturus Black (June 25, 1961 — October 31, 1979)
Mother: Primrose Parkinson (February 17, 1961 — June 13, 1980)
Blood Adoption with Permission from Sirius Orion Black:
Adopted Name: Harry James Potter
Adoption Date: July 31, 1980
Adoptive Father: James Fleamont Potter
Adoptive Mother: Lillian Potter nee Evans
Heirships:
Heir to the House of Black
Heir to the House of Potter
Heir to the House of Peverell
Notice: Cleansing and Healing Required for further information
Notice: Major Issues with account holdings. Please review.
The paper fell from my hand after I finished reading everything. I’m adopted. No one ever told me—not even Sirius himself. I can’t be the child of prophesy either; I wasn’t born in July.
The head goblin looks at me in sympathy for my shock, but continues on. “I see that you are correct about being time-displaced. That’s good that this isn’t a time waste. You are the black heir, hmm? Regulus Black’s son to boot. Interesting. Blood adoption—that explains why you don’t quite look like a Black. We can remove that if you wish. Heir to Peverell? That’s unexpected. Two notices. I can send you over to the healers to get that checked out while I go figure out what is wrong with the accounts. Then we will come back here and review everything. Alright?”
I just stare at him, still in a bit of shock, but I nod and follow him to what I assume are the healing chambers. He points me to sit on a bed while he collects a healer for me and leaves.
The healer came up to be and started: “ I hear you need both cleansing and healing; do you know any further specifics or should I just begin running scans?”
“Scans, I guess. I have no idea what’s going on anymore,” I respond.
“Well, lay down and I can get started. I’ll walk you through any issues I have found.”
I nod and do as they ask. The scans are interesting in that some make parts of my body glow. Others are used in conjunction with a quill to write down specifics. Others still seem to do nothing at all. It ends up taking the healer a good half an hour to finish all the scans.
“ Well kid, not to scare you, but quite a few issues came up. I am guessing that you know this, but there are issues with both malnutrition and bone misalignment/breaks. What you likely don’t know is that in addition to the blood adoption obscuring your original looks, you have a curse for bad eyesight, a slight magic block for infants that was never removed, and worst of all, a horcrux in your scar. Fortunately for you, we can fix all this. I am going to go call in a cursebreaker to remove the horcrux for a start. Once that is complete, we can remove the eyesight curse and the fix the bone damage. Then we will cleanse you from the magic block and blood adoption (just the looks; you will still be related, don’t worry). Finally, we will finish up with going through the orders to help manage and overcome your malnutrition. Sound good?”
I nod and the healing begins.
I feel completely different now, and looking at myself in the mirror handed to me, I look a bit different too. My hair is longer; my eyes are gray. I can tell I’m a little taller too. I definitely have the Black characteristics, but I can see where I look like Pansy (who is apparently my cousin now), in the cheekbones and eye shape. My magic feels freer too, with the removal of both the block and horcrux.
The head goblin who has been helping me since the beginning (though I realize that he has still has not introduced himself) walked back into the room.
“Well, you’re looking better. Now there are a few things to do and review. For one, I have paperwork here to legally change your name back to your original name if you so wish. Then we can either redo the blood test to look for any further details that were indicated or start with the issues with the accounts and finish with the blood test. What would you like to do?”
“Let’s change my name back to Hydrus and start with the blood test,” I say. I figure if I’m going to change things this time around, I am really going to do so. Going by Hydrus instead of Harry is just a start to that.
“So fill out these forms and I’ll submit them when you are done. Then you know what to do with the blood test. 7 drops once again.”
I look at the portion of the page with new information:
Born and Current Name: Hydrus Regulus Black
.
.
.
House Magics:
Black Family Magic: Active
Potter Family Magic: Dormant
Peverell Family Magic: Partially Active
Traits:
Metamorphmagus: Partially Active
Parseltoungue: Active
Nonmagical Guardian: Petunia Dursley nee Evans (Illegal Placement)
Magical Guardian: * none to be listed; Assumption: Sirius Orion Black (Illegal Incarceration)
Notice: Major Issues with account holdings. Please review.
I find it interesting that I am supposed to be a metamorphmagus like Tonks—maybe that’s why I was able to regrow my hair after Aunt Petunia’s really bad attempt at a haircut? Hmm. Not sure. Something I definitely have to test out though.
Reading the next part, I look up at the goblin and ask, “Can we clear up the guardianship issue before moving onto the issues with the account?”
He grabs the paper from me, reads, and nods. “I can definitely remove you from the illegal guardianship of Petunia Dursley due to both the illegality and from evidence of your mistreatment. As for the magical guardianship, that is a bit more complicated. I can inform the head of the DMLE about the illegal incarceration of your uncle, but even if he is freed, the long dementor exposure alone would likely disqualify him from taking you on for at least another year or two for healing. Which leaves us fewer options. One option is to look into your mother’s family: the Parkinsons. I believe that they have a daughter around your age. Another option is to go through the Department of Magical Children’s Services to find you a good family placement. There are two major problems with that route, however. For one, they have, unfortunately, been known to be corrupt and take bribes. Two, you are the Heir to the Black family; you would be fought over for even the chance at accessing your inheritance. There is also the possibility of emancipation, but the lower age limit for that is 15, or under extreme circumstances 13 (but an advisor is required). So that does not work for right now. To be honest, your best option is letting me inform the DMLE about your uncle’s situation, but going into the care of your mother’s family. If you like, I can request them to come meet you here. While we are waiting, we can go over the accounts.”
I hesitate, but realize that though I had often seen her in the halls, I really don’t know much about Pansy Parkinson or her family. I did agree that it should (hopefully) be a drastically better option than the ministry. “I guess that works. Can you do that for me?”
The goblin immediately writes out two letters—one addressed to Amelia Bones about Sirius’ case, and one addressed to Lord Parkinson, Pansy’s father. After sending them off, he collects a few papers and begins to review the accounts with me.
“So, there are quite a few problems across all of your accounts. Starting with House Black, your great-grandfather passed away in February, so the accounts were supposed to go into a sort of hibernation until the heir—you—came of age. For some reason, they did not. Lucius Malfoy has taken it upon himself to be the Steward without permission. He likely assumed that his son would inherit the heirship, as his mother is your father’s cousin. Thus, he has been spending money from the accounts without a care and has been using your family’s Wizengamot seats for voting. This is a fairly easy fix. You just need to sign a page saying that he did not have permission to be the Steward, and all the votes cast will be removed and revoted upon. The money taken will need to be paid back with interest. As it has only been a few months, there has been no major damage to the accounts, and what damage has occurred can be remedied quickly.”
Of course, I sign; I am really not surprised at Malfoy though.
“Continuing on with House Peverell. There are a few household artifacts and tom e s missing. With your permission, we can do an item recall for them all easily enough. On the money side of things, there is stagnation, as the accounts have not been touched for nearly 100 years. We can work on expanding and changing the investment portfolio to fix that up. It will take time, but can be done. Does this work for you?”
I agree.
“ Finally we come to the main problem account: House Potter. In the wake of your adopted parent’s death, Dumbledore has illegally taken up the Stewardship, similar to what Malfoy did with House Black. He has voted with your seats. He has taken tomes and artifacts. We can do a recall on those. He has also allowed for a few repeated transfers: 500 galleons a month to himself, 500 galleons a month to Vernon Dursley, and 300 galleons a month to Molly Weasley. We can get that paid back, with interest too. The problems come in on the investment and management side of things: he has sold highly coveted shares (such as the Prophet, Comet Broomsticks , and Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor). Buying back these shares are possible, but may result in a short-term loss. He has also allowed publishers to use the Harry Potter name, but takes the proceeds for himself. We can get a cease and desist, but I’m not sure how much we can get back for all that. Your opinions?”
“Definitely get the items and money back with interest. Also let’s make sure to revoke the votes he used in the Wizengamot . For the shares, is it possible to buy them back, but cause Dumbledore to make up the loss, as it was not his decision to make? For the Harry Potter name publishing, maybe do the cease and desist, but also have a letter published in the Prophet explaining why you are going after the publishers, explain that I have not received any proceeds (whether by the money made by the books sold, or by the letter s sent as fan-mail), and explain that any and all info in those books are likely to be untrue?”
“ I can do that.”
I nervously pace the room I am in. After concluding the business with my accounts, I was moved to a meeting room so that I could meet the Parkinsons to see if it would be a good fit to live with them. I freeze as a knock sounded. Then I speak up: “Come in.”
A family of four enter the room. I first see a tall man enter, leading his wife beside him. Then another boy a few years older than myself enters, similarly leading in Pansy.
I bow slightly to the family. “Lord Parkinson, I thank you and your family for taking the time to meet with me today. My name is Hydrus Regulus Black, son of Regulus Black and Primrose Parkinson. I asked that you meet with me to determine if you can take on my guardianship, as my current situation will not continue to work.”
“ Hydrus, it is a pleasure to meet you. Let me first introduce myself; I am Percival Parkinson,” He then waves his arm to the side, gesturing to his wife, “and this is my lovely wife Amaryllis. Then we have my son, Phineas, and my daughter Pansy. May I ask what the issue with the guardianship is? And do you know what happened to my sister?”
“I don’t know for certain what happened to her, but considering she died the day I was born, I assume she was lost in childbirth. As for guardianship, I was apparently illegally placed with muggles after my adoptive parents passed away. Additionally, my blood test here at Gringotts stated that I don’t currently have a magical guardian, and the assumed one was illegally incarcerated. All considered, even if he does get released from Azkaban, I wouldn’t be able to even live with him for a few years as he would need to get healed from the dementor exposure.”
“I see. Well, let us sit and talk over tea and see if the compatibility with our family is there. If so, we would gladly take you in.”
My eyes well up a little with tears, but fall they do not. “Thank you.”
A new fresh start? A new name? A new family? Maybe a difference can be made.