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Poppy Pomfrey came in for her timely inspection sometime after breakfast. I was feeling healthy as a hippogriff, so there was no real reason to hold me back in the Hospital Wing. Naturally, she told me I'd have to stay for the next two days just so she could be sure I was fine.
I escaped an hour later.
Finding my wand—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches–I trotted past the Hospital Wing, doing my absolute best to not gawk at everything. My feet knew the way, so I had no problem heading towards the unused corridor of the Third Floor, where Dumbledore had made Fluffy stand guard over the secret door. I wasn't ready to be Harry Potter unless I could cast spells to see if it really worked.
Grabbing the closest door I could find, I yanked it open and stepped into a rubbish bin.
Okay, not exactly a rubbish bin, but broken chairs,tables and spiderwebs do not a classroom make. The candles on the chandelier flashed at my entry, bathing the room with an eerie, crimson light.
Seriously, where were the light bulbs?
I leveled my wand ahead and spoke as clearly as possible.
"Lumos!"
I barked out a laugh seeing the small, intense, white light illuminate the wand tip. It grew larger with every passing second, and I spent an entire minute gawking at it like an imbecile. Unsure about what to do next, I cast the counter-charm, which came to me instantly, like it was resting on my lips.
"Nox!"
The blob of white popped out.
As did the candles on the chandelier.
….Crap!
…
…
Two hours of spell slinging from memory and studying the screen told me that Harry Potter was an idiot. He hadn't given two fucks about improving his magic, elevating his arsenal or simply even testing his potential. The kid had a natural talent for martial magic, or Defense Against the Dark Arts as the subject was called, and his entire repertoire was basically Expelliarmus.
No wonder Fate ditched him for me. I knew how to use his talents better.
Leveling my wand, I focussed on the invincible feeling that had risen within me when I had first cast the lighting spell. I thought of the emotions stirring in me at what I could– what I would achieve in this world. I thought of Ginny's hair and the softness of her arse, the desire to see her writhing beneath me in ecstasy already hitting downstairs. Filling myself with all of that, I reached for the well of magic within me.
And it answered.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Magic blasted forth from the tip of the wand, exploding into blazes of brilliant white light, twisting and turning into a bonfire of silver miasma around me. The power felt physical and sent wind roaring around me in a gale.
But the Patronus didn't form.
What the fuck? Why wasn't it forming a stag? No wait, that was because Harry's dad was a stag. I wasn't Harry, not really, and didn't give two shits about James Potter or his hot wife. I wanted riches., wanted power, and sex. All three of them. I pushed more power into the spell, but all I got was more mist. I couldn't follow everything that happened. Energy was exploding around me, shadows flashing through the brightness, seeking escape, screaming.
I stood amidst it, my mind brilliantly lit by the magic coursing through me. It burned me, but it felt wonderful. Some part of me screamed out in joy that it did. My robes flapped and danced in the gale, spreading out around me in a scarlet and sable cloud. You can read all you want about magic, but trust me, the feel of it was… indescribable. It wasn't power, wasn't energy, wasn't emotion, and wasn't thought. It was….
Magic.
And I was casting it.
Bringing it into this world. Making my imagination come to life.
Then it happened.
First came the front legs. Then the hind ones. The body was enormous, almost as large as a horse, only thicker, with claws for feet. A silvery tail stretched out of its back, as a giant, avian face burst out of the front, unleashing a pair of extremely large wingspan on either side of its body. And just like that, I knew what it was. A half-horse, half-eagle. A creature that symbolized both power and protection.
A hippogriff.
I stared at it.
"That's really impressive!"
The sudden voice caught me off-guard, and with that, the feelings empowering my Patronus vanished really hard. I didn't know why or how, but the sudden flux of energy choked me, like someone had taken my magic and slammed hard on the brakes. My arms were twitching as I dropped to the floor. I couldn't get a breath, couldn't think, and knew somewhere amidst this pain that things had gone very wrong. Whoever had done this to me was going to get fucked with a shoe. I turned around, ready to snap at the intruder with some choice words about his family, his mother's occupation, and the length of his dick, but the identity of the person left me gawking for words.
"Du– Professor!"
Albus Dumbledore stood before me, all tall and grandfatherly, with a bowl of lemon drops. A comfy, squishy chair lay just behind him, probably conjured out of thin air.
"That was most impressive, my boy. I knew Professor Lupin was teaching you the charm, but to see a third-year cast a fully corporeal Patronus is… extraordinary."
Yeah. I'd have felt impressed as well had I not been seeing stars and hearing bells in my ears.
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore frowned. "That is prone to happen from time to time, my boy. My sincere apologies."
He held out his hand.
Groaning, I took it and stood up.
"What… went wrong?" I asked. "I cast the spell—"
"I'm sure you did, but a corporeal patronus requires an unwavering mindset. Perhaps my oddly timed words distracted you, and the charm exploded in a backlash."
That… made sense. Rowling had been silent about Patronus lore, or any lore. For all the massive world she crafted, she was lazy as shit with lore.
I coughed again.
"Easy, Harry," He said. "Maybe you should have gotten a bit more rest."
"I'm fine."
"Physically perhaps, but not emotionally. But I understand."
I frowned.
"I had a most illuminating talk with Remus, and a somewhat biased one, with Severus. What happened with Sirius was… most unfortunate. And Miss Granger…"
"Stop!" I said, making my words sound as bitter as possible. It wasn't very difficult once I pulled on the memories. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Why so miserable, Harry? You should be very proud of yourself after last night."
"Proud?" I echoed as panic set in. Albus Dumbledore was a Legilimens on par with Voldemort. There was no telling what thoughts he could—STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!
Swallowing, I dove into Harry's memories. Watching Sirius offer him—offer me a home. My hopes of having an actual family. My horror at seeing Hermione injured. My fear at seeing Remus Lupin transform. My frustration at my inability to cast my patronus, and finally my dread at being surrounded by those dementors as she circled over us, and that cold, empty feeling as the dementor slowly unfurled its hood to reveal the empty, gaping—
I threw up.
"Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed, getting off his chair and helping me stand up. With the barest flicker of his hand, a wooden chair popped into existence. The Headmaster pushed me into it, before taking a step back and watching me in concern.
"No, no!" He muttered. "You're definitely not well."
"The dementors…" I croaked, the absolute wrongness from that memory making me feel like I had been force-fed sewage. It definitely wasn't compatible, but it provided what I needed. A way out. "Whenever I think of—of—"
"Rest, Harry," Dumbledore replied kindly. "what happened was unfortunate. Extremely so. There are no words to express the trauma that you went through. It's unfortunate that there's nothing I could have done to keep it from happening."
I suppressed the urge to look at him. Canonically, Dumbledore could have ensured things ran differently. He could have advised Hermione and me to go back in time and set things right. But I was unconscious for days, and Hermione herself was wounded, so assuming time-turners only went back by six hours for some god damned reason…
"I just don't want to talk about it."
"There's no shame in what you're feeling, Harry," said Dumbledore. "On the contrary, that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."
I clenched my fists. Dumbledore was laying a trap. I just knew it. And the wrongness pervading me wasn't helping matters.
"My greatest strength, is it?" I asked, my voice cold and unforgiving. "You haven't got a clue, Professor. Pettigrew betrayed my parents. He's the reason I grew up an orphan. He's the reason the Dursleys tortured me all my life. And I let him go free. Sirius wanted to kill him, but I didn't let him. And now Sirius is dead, Pettigrew is gone, and Hermione—"
"Harry, suffering like this proves you're still alive! This pain is part of being human."
"I don't care!" I snapped. Power flared around me. "And if you really want me to be happy, stop sending me to those Dursleys!"
Call me paranoid, but I had this weird feeling that this conversation was heavily shifting towards that explosive version that happened at the end of the fifth-year in the books.
"Harry, the Dursleys—"
"Are not my family," I replied as coldly as possible. "They've never been my family. I do not consider them my family. They call me a freak and hate every single thing about magic. You can force me to go to the Dursleys, but I'll just ride the Knight Bus and rent a room at the Cauldron."
Dumbledore looked at me, amused.
Damn it. He isn't taking me seriously, is he?
"Harry, Peter Pettigrew is on the loose. Is it really that difficult to understand why I'm interested in your protection? I understand the Dursleys—"
"Don't care about me!" I was practically yelling at this point. Raising one's voice always gets the point across. "I told you. You send me there. I leave. I know my parents left me a freaking fortune. Let me use it bloody once before someone gets lucky and finishes me off!"
Come on. I begged inwardly. Accept my point, damnit. Just leave me freaking' alone. Just what do I need to do to convince him? Drink a potion of Felix Felicis?
…
…
I froze.
Felix Felicis. The potion they call Liquid Luck. I didn't have it, but guess what? I had something just as cool.
Meta-Luck.
Twelve goddamn points full of it.
Do you wish to use Meta-Luck?
Yes. Goddamn it. Yes. a hundred times. As long as I get the independence, I want.
Dumbledore frowned. "Is that really what you want, Harry?"
I scowled at him. "You want me to swear an oath?"
Meta-Luck is being deployed
Yes. Do something, damn it.
Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose there is no other option then. I'd have really preferred you live with the Weasleys, but with their eldest children being back, I'm afraid that isn't an option either. Fortunately, your parents left you a suitable alternative."
….what?
"I remember your father moving into an apartment in London with your mother during their seventh year at school, after he was selected by the Puddlemere's as a Chaser. That was before the war took a nasty turn, and they had to shift to the cottage in Godric's Hollow. I believe the apartment is on Tottenham Court Road, unless my memory is failing me."
"An… apartment?" I croaked. Was this really happening? Had James and Lily Potter really left an apartment for Harry—for me? The books covered none of that shit. Or was this the effect of Meta-Luck? Had this… had Meta-Luck just conjured something that didn't exist in the books simply because I had wished for it?
Had I just discovered the greatest power in this universe?
"Why yes," The Headmaster replied. "You are turning seventeen in two months. I think it's about time you had a place to call your own. I can get someone to accompany you to Gringotts and get it sorted." He scratched his beard again. "Perhaps Filius might be interested…."
"I — that is, thank you! But there's no need to disturb Professor Flitwick. I can just do that by myself," I croaked out. An apartment? Free from the Dursleys and Dumbledore's interference? It was the greatest news ever. There was no telling what would happen to Grimmauld Place now that Sirius was dead, but with this, I'd have an entire summer to test out everything.
Fuck Magic. I was going to elevate this Meta-Luck as much as possible. All I needed was to figure out the mechanics first.
"Good, good," Dumbledore bobbed his head. "My only request is that you take it slow for now. Few witches and wizards can even keep their sanity after what you've been through. To see you so active already is a sign of great mental fortitude, Harry. Sirius, wherever he is, is proud of you."
Nundu pucky! I thought. Another weird wizard expression. Still, I guess I'm stuck with them. Can't be lucky with everything, can I?
Consumed Meta-Luck Units: 10
Remaining Meta-Luck Units: 2
Damn. Just two. This was going to be an uphill climb.
Dumbledore coughed.
"... sorry, sir. I was just… thinking."
"A good sign," The Headmaster murmured. "It's been lovely chatting with you, Harry. But it is getting late. Best not be roaming the hallways alone. Pip-Pip!"
And with that, he disapparated.
I watched him leave. Even in the books, Dumbledore could both apparate and portkey in and out of Hogwarts. Maybe I too could try gaining a skill like that? All it'd take was some luck—
Meta-Luck Deployment Complete
You have altered Fate! Congratulations, Destiny has your attention. You might not be glad that you did.
That… was ominous.
BANE Activated
Minimum World Anchorage required - 15
Hold on! What the fuck was happening?
Current World Anchor Analysis
World Anchor — 0
Required World Anchor — 15
And that wasn't all. The icy feeling on my chest made my heart quiver and my gut squeeze as more information appeared.
Current World Anchor Balance is negative
You have 24 hours to gain 15 World Anchors before you are deleted from existence!
Enjoy your last day in this reality!
"...FUCK!"
There was a party in the Gryffindor Common Room, celebrating my speedy recovery and, as the twins put it, my legendary act of disarming Snape and flinging him away. Both of them had genuflected before me right away, calling me their inspiration and an honorary marauder.
The perils of irony.
I'd have cared if I wasn't too busy panicking. You know, about my last day in this world. Unless I established World Anchors by finding a girl, fuck her nice and hard and not get expelled. I had tried to master a confusion hex, but I was no good at it and an Imperius was hilariously above my paygrade.
The screen had great fun pointing that out.
That left the normal way.
But whom to fuck?
My boner lobbied for Ginny Weasley. She was charming, and downright sexy, and harbored a titanic crush on Harry. Me. I had already made a move earlier, so maybe I could push things to first base. Maybe a little fondling if I got lucky. But pushing it would spoil things between me and the entire Weasley brood. Not a great loss, but better to avoid suspicion.
Who else? Hermione? She was hospitalized for fuck's sake, and probably had the hots for Ron.
There was a girls' group on the other side of the Common Room, seating around the stone-topped bench. Angelina and Alicia were taking turns at pouring butterbeer and firewhiskey and handing over the mugs to the other girls. Lavender and Parvati were engaged in an animated discussion while Romilda kept throwing glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking. Seriously, it was like she was obsessed...
The thought vanished as it hit me like a brick.
Romilda Vane.
Canonically, Romilda had tried to drug-rape Harry in his sixth year. She had used Amortentia, the most powerful love potion. Certainly not to just attract his attention. But could I really make a try on her?
"Knut for your thoughts, stranger?"
I looked up and found Ginny Weasley sauntering towards me with a mug in each hand. The joyful glint in her eyes and the flash of her smile made her impossible to look away from. The amber-coloured liquid sloshed around in the mugs as she added an exaggerated sway to her hips. Not that I minded in the slightest.
"Too many," I replied. "Try a few galleons?"
"That's too bad," she pouted, placing the mugs on the stone bench beside him. "Haven't got a galleon."
She bent at the waist, giving me a front-row seat to her cleavage, the open first button curtaining her glorious assets like a wizard's cloak hiding secrets. I wanted to look, but also I didn't want to spoil the magic.
After a dozen seconds passed — more than needed, I was sure — she cast a cooling charm with her wand, put it away and straightened up. I watched with rapt attention as she brought the mug to her lips, slid the cold beer along, licked it with her tongue, and trailed it down the side of her neck and over her chest.
"It's so hot," she said casually, as if she didn't know what she was doing to me.
I shifted a bit, attempting to hide my growing erection, but I couldn't help but look at the seductress that was Ginny. Her full lips glistened with moisture, and the trail of wetness down her neck all but begged me to lap at it with my tongue. Like it was a painting of numbers where my tongue was the brush, and she the canvas.
And then she did the unexpected. She licked the mug and then held it out for me.
"Thank you." I took a sip without hesitation. "Damn! That's good butterbeer."
"I'm glad you like it." she smiled. "I figured we shared some common tastes."
Her words left me wondering about her meaning. I openly ogled at her body as she took another drink, and I saw her eyes drift down to my crotch. The fire in them was all the proof I needed. Maybe I had been reading it wrong earlier? She didn't doubt me. She was really into me, and my actions earlier had emboldened her.
Ginny was intelligent and sexy, with a body that never had to pursue others, preferring them to throw themselves at her until she deemed them worthy of her attention. Unless, of course, you were Harry Potter.
But again, she was Ron's sister, and that made her a risk. Question was, should I take it?
I glanced at the girls' table again, just in time to see Parvati throw up on Romilda's shirt, much to the latter's horror, with Alicia trying to salvage the mess, waving her wand only to make Romilda's jacket disappear.
"Jee—bloody hell! Look at them!"
"You have been," Ginny said, "All evening."
I tried not to give her a guilty glance. "Um."
"Is this about… you know," she hesitated, "whatever happened with the dementors?"
I blinked, caught in a whiplash. "... Err.. what?"
"The dementors tried to suck out your soul. Dad told us stories about how Aurors posted in Azkaban became… desperate. One of my cousins got imprisoned for Third Degree muggle baiting. Mum and Dad went on like rabbits for the next two days after they visited him there."
I gagged. Imagining Molly Weasley making out with Arthur Weasley on a creaking wooden bed was not an image I wanted.
Ginny giggled, flipped her hair, and spoke a bit more seriously. "Dad told me. People exposed to dementors crave physical intimacy. More than usual."
Her hands crawled on mine.
"I could feel it, you know," she said, "the pressure inside you. When you…"
She trailed off at that. We both knew what she was talking about.
"I've got it buttoned down," I said, taking another sip. I didn't need to flirt with her, not when she gave me an alternate opening herself. "Don't worry. I'm not going to… take anything from you."
Ginny slowly placed her mug on the table, edged closer, and said in a small voice. "If it's given, freely offered, you really can't take it away. All you're doing is accepting a gift."
Oh, how I wanted that! Ginny was willing. Eager even. And I needed a quick solution. Fast. I opened my mouth to reply and—
"Hey Ginny!"
Fuck! I turned around and saw Romilda striding towards me. If sashaying her hips while smiling at me could be called striding. Ginny turned to face her, and I was sure I saw the shadow of a scowl forming on her face for a moment. Romilda looked utterly uncaring that she wore a half-wet shirt. She embraced Ginny with a massive bear-hug, somehow emphasizing her melons at me.
"Oh, Hi, Harry. What's up?"
So that's how she wanted to play, was it? Nice. This could be interesting.
"You know, the usual. Making sure no one's up to mischief."
"I don't get up to mischief!" She grinned. "And does that mean you were checking me out?"
I glanced at her nigh-transparent shirt and the crimson bra beneath it.
"Someone has to," I replied.
"Excuse me!" Ginny snapped and walked out. I could see her fisting her palms as she walked, probably cursing Romilda all the way. I watched her leave, my eyes feasting on her ass.
"Hmm!" Romilda scoffed. "Some people just can't handle a bit of competition."
I arched an eyebrow at that. Maybe I was overestimating the difficulty of my situation. Romilda was being blatant to where her next step might as well be to strip right there, jump in my arms and yell, 'Do me, Harry!'.
"It's…" I looked at Ginny's leaving figure. "It's complicated."
Romilda shrugged. "You were watching us, girls. She felt anxious and tried to latch onto you. But when I came in, she felt insecure and ran out. Seems pretty simple to me."
I blinked. "I—"
"Wasn't watching me? To see if I got into mischief?"
The accusatory tone didn't match the humorous glint in her eyes. She was fucking with me.
Very well. Two could play that game.
"Yeah, I was watching you."
"You were." She smiled. "Well, what do you want?"
There were so many ways this could turn out. But I didn't have the advantages of second chances. One day, and that was it.
"A happy memory."
"Say what?"
"A happy memory," I repeated. "You heard about my recent date with the dementors? They liked me so much that one of them broke boundaries and kissed me."
"Get out!" She exclaimed, stuck between gagging at the image and being horrified by the insinuation. "You're not serious!"
"Dead."
Pun intended.
"Or well, would have been seriously dead, if not for Snape saving my arse at the last moment. Since then there's this gloomy aura-of-despair all around me, making me feel all suicidal and empty. If I don't get rid of it soon, I'll—"
She placed a hand on my forearm. "What do you need?"
"I told you," I replied, unrepentant. "A happy memory."
"And you thought of… me?" She asked quietly. "I'd have thought you'd have gone to Granger."
I smiled. "Hermione's injured, too. And who else should I turn to but the one girl that spends breakfast, lunch and dinner eye-fucking the shit out of me?"
Romilda looked like a deer stuck in the headlights. "You, uh — know?"
I gave her a smile. "I'm not that oblivious."
She flipped her hair to another shoulder, rubbing her fingers through it. "This is blowing my mind. But I—"
"Hey Mil!" yelled a drunk Seamus, "whaddya doin' with Po — Harry!"
He raised his mug of firewhiskey.
Cursing him in a dozen ways mentally, I raised my mug as well. Romilda took that opportunity to yell a loud 'Coming!" and with an apologetic look, quickly rushed to him — her boyfriend, I assumed, she was about to say.
Guess things were really as difficult as I thought.
I saw Romilda grab Seamus's arm and put it around her shoulder and slowly drag him away. Meanwhile, Ginny was nowhere to be seen, and the party seemed like it was mostly over, with people leaving for bed. And that'd mean my only possible chance to screw someone was in the morning and if I failed then—
Then I was done for.
I fisted my hair and hissed, "Fuck!"