Chapter 18 - Harry Potter Fan-fiction 8 - Harry Potter and the Four Heirs (1/2)
Plot: Merlin, not happy with how the future unravelled for the life of Harry Potter, intervenes early to set the course of history back on track. Implied Pairing Only. Smart!Harry Bash!AD Idiot!RW
Pairing: H-Hr
NOTE: Super AU, kinda OP Harry. A LOT of writing the wrongs of people. Dumberdore Bashing
Chapter One - The Mage's Act
# # #
”Lad, I need you to wake up now.”
He was having a wonderful dream. He had lots of toys, lots to eat, and lots of cuddles like Duddles got from Auntie 'Toona. Unca Vernon didn't hit him in the head, either. He liked his dream.
”Yes, lad; it's a nice dream. But, I need you to wake up now.”
The man's voice was making his dream go away. He tried to make the man's voice go away by con'trating really, really hard. He wanted his dream to come back.
”I'm not going to go away, lad. I'm not in your dream. You need to open your eyes.”
Opening his eyes meant waking up in his cupboard. Waking up meant feeling hungry and sore from the last time Unca Vernon hit him. Waking up meant getting sore hands from pulling weeds from Auntie 'Toona's garden. Unca Vernon made his head hurt; and the weeds made his hands sting.
”I promise you, lad; that will never happen again. Open your eyes and you will see.”
The man sounded nice enough. It sounded like Unca Vernon's voice when he was talking to Duddles; not like it sounded when Unca Vernon was talking to him. Maybe he could have a quick peek and, if he didn't like it, he could close his eyes and go back to his dream.
”That sounds like a good idea, lad. Let's try that then.”
He still didn't know if he should open his eyes; but, he knew he felt different. He felt as if he was lying on his back on a really soft pillow. But his bed wasn't a soft pillow. His bed was an old, dog-smelly thing Auntie Marge threw at him. It was lumpy. Not what he felt he was lying on now. Maybe he should open his eyes to see what it was.
”That's a very good idea. Do that.”
He'd do it then.
Opening his eyes the small boy expected to see the bottom of the stairs above him. What he saw, much further away, was a roof made of rocks stuck together.
He started to look around. He was on a big bed. And it had red curtains around it! And the curtains were held up by big wooden poles! Wow!
He looked around some more. Beyond the opened curtains on each side of the bed he could see walls. The walls were made of stone just like the roof. And there were some little fires on the top of big sticks stuck to the walls. At least they looked like big sticks, he thought, frowning.
Fire was bad unless it was in the fireplace. He knew he was not allowed to play with fire. Duddles played with it and burnt the rug; and he got hit lots for it - even though it was Duddles who did it. He was only 'little' but knew it wasn't fair that Unca Vernon hit him instead of Duddles.
”I put the fires there, lad. And they're called 'torches', by the way.”
There was that voice again. It was coming from down where his feet were pointing.
The boy, a child bȧrėly beyond toddler stage, sat up to look where the voice was coming from. It was coming from past the foot of his bed.
There was a man standing there. He could see him through the open curtains at the foot of the big bed he was on. At least he thought it was a man. He had a funny dressing gown on.
”I see you're awake now, lad,” said the man.
”Who are you, Sir?” asked the boy.
He had to call all man-adults 'Sir' and lady-adults 'Ma'am', unless they were Unca Vernon, Auntie 'Toona or Auntie Marge. If he didn't, Unca Vernon would hit him lots.
”You can call me 'Sir', if you like,” the man said while walking around the bed to stand alongside where the boy was sitting.
The boy was glad the man came closer. It made him easier to see.
”I'm Freak!” said the small boy, beaming proudly.
The old man's eyebrows shot up on hearing that. ”And what makes you say that?”
The boy scrunched his face up wondering if the man was upset with him. ”That's what Auntie 'Toona calls me,” he moped. But suddenly brightly said, ”But Unca Vernon calls me 'Boy'.”
The old man gazed down at him for a while. The boy hoped he hadn't said anything to upset him. He didn't want Unca Vernon to hit him again because he upset the old man. Whatever the old man was thinking he suddenly didn't look like he was upset anymore.
”Lad. You are not a freak; and I will not call you 'Boy',” the old man said kindly. ”Neither of those two words are your name.”
”Oh,” the boy sadly said. If 'Freak' and 'Boy' weren't his name he wondered what it was. He wondered if it was 'Lad'.
”How about you come with me, lad,” the old man said, reaching to help the boy off the bed. ”And I'll tell you all about your name and who you are.”
The boy started to get off the bed but then hesitated. ”Are you 'a strange man'?” he asked.
Hesitating, the old man asked, ”What makes you ask that?”
”Unca Vernon said that, if a strange man should come up to me and tell or ask me to go with them, then I should.”
The boy saw that what he said seemed to make the old man get angry again. It frightened him. But the old man was only angry for a very short time before the angry face went away again.
Meekly, the boy said, ”I'm sorry if I said something that made you angry, Sir.”
”That's quite alright, lad,” the old man replied, finishing helping the young boy off the bed. ”I just didn't like that your Uncle Vernon said that to you.”
Leading the small boy over to a ċhėst of drawers against one of the walls he said, ”Now - to answer your question - I guess I am 'a strange man'. I've been called much worse.”
Kneeling, the old man opened a drawer and began to remove clothing fit for a boy of his young charge's stature.
”First, though, I'm going to get you out of those rags you're wearing and into something much nicer,” he said. ”Then we're going to go and have some breakfast.”
”Me, too?” the young boy asked while the old man was helping him change.
”Yes. You, too.”
'The boy had been even more mistreated than I believed,' the old man thought. He should have taken him earlier.
The boy brightly asked, ”After, are you taking me back to Auntie 'Toona's and Unca Vernon's? Auntie 'Toona's going to want me to help with breakfast.”
Pausing in finishing dressing his young charge, the old man said, ”No, lad. You'll be living here now. And you won't have to help with anything like that.”
”Okay,” the young boy said. If he was going to live 'here' now - and he didn't have to help with breakfast, lunch or dinner - he wondered what other chores he'd be doing.
”Will I still be pulling weeds?” he asked.
”No, lad,” the old man kindly replied. ”You'll be spending a lot of your time learning and playing. And, the more you learn, the more you'll get to play.”
The young boy's eyes lit up hearing that.
”Wow!” he said. ”With toys and everything?”
”Yes,” the old man replied with a smile. ”With toys and everything.”
The young tyke was really excited. He was going to like living here. It sounded much nicer than living with his Aunt and Uncle.
The boy asked eagerly, ”Can we start after breakfast?”
Standing back up the old man took the young boy's hand.
Leading him towards the door he said, ”Well, we can start learning some things now. And even while we're eating breakfast.”
”Wow!” said the boy excitedly.
”For a start,” said the old man as he led the young boy out the door, ”My name is Myrrdin Emrys and I'm going to help you do something very important when you get older.
”And your name is Harry James Potter. Today is your birthday. As of today you are now four years old. Happy Birthday.”
# # #
When nothing happened after a minute he guessed it must have only been an anomaly. Such occurrences were rare but, with the fate of the wizarding world on the line, he wasn't prepared to take chances.
He'd approach the house under a disillusionment charm tomorrow to ensure the boy was exactly where he was supposed to be.
It hadn't even dawned on him that today was the boy's birthday.
# # #
Within a few days of collecting Harry from the Dursleys, Myrrdin began to explain what Harry was going to do when he grew older.
In terms the small child could understand, he explained about the magical school known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And how the small castle - keep, really - they were currently living within, was somewhat similar. He told stories about the four founders and made little dolls of each of them, keeping the boy spellbound for hours. He explained what an heir was and he explained how Harry was going to bring the four heirs of the founders together. And, together, they began to watch history on what the old man called a 'time viewer'. He also told the lad what sort of boy he was going to grow into. At least, what sort of boy Harry would have grown into had he not removed him from the timeline.
Myrrdin knew he would be years mentoring this child, but he also knew the future of the world hinged on his young charge. The old man had prepared for his role very carefully. And he would prepare young Harry James Potter just as carefully.
# # #
”I'm not happy hearing this, Myrrdin!” Harry stated angrily.
In the few years Harry had been with the old man, this was the angriest the old druidic mage had ever seen him. And it was the first time the young boy had ever spoken to him using his name.
”He volunteered, lad,” the old man calmly answered. ”And with his magics he can protect himself far better than you could have done for yourself if I left you in the same situation.”
”That's not the point, Sir,” snapped Harry. ”He's a living sentient being! No one deserves that treatment! Not even the lowliest of non-sentient creatures!”
Myrrdin, or Merlin as he was otherwise known, knew this was going to be a touchy matter with his young student. But, when Harry began to understand he had somehow been replaced within the Dursley household to occlude knowledge from Dumbledore as to his absence, the old man thought it best to begin the discussion while they were having a spot of tea between study subjects. He did not expect Harry to be quite so... incensed... as to jump out of his armchair in the near rage he was obviously feeling. He realised what would have happened had he waited until Harry was older and his magical core was more powerful.
”Harry, I'm very proud of you that you feel that way,” said Myrrdin. ”But, I gave Dobby the opportunity to see what you did for him, or would have done for him, in May 1993. Plus for a few years after that.