Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

A few days later, I wake to find Rispy waiting for me at the end of my bed. "Good morning, Harry Potter," Rispy says. "I wanted to thank you personally for sending the goblins to help me."

"You're more than welcome, Rispy," I say. "I couldn't leave you in that situation."

"I'm surprised that a wizard would help me," Rispy says. "But don't think this will make me trust any other wizard more easily. I have to ask, though. How did you know where to find me? How did you know I was even being held in slavery like that?"

I know there will be consequences for this action. But for Rispy's sake, I'd say they're worth it. I could not, in good conscience, leave him enslaved, knowing that he was trapped like that against his will.

"I overheard someone talking about you," I say. "Something about new elf blood. So I did some more checking and found out what really happened."

"I see," Rispy says. "Well, in that case, I am in your debt. I owe you my freedom."

"Enjoy it," I say. "And if you ever need anything, a place to hide, whatever, feel free to come to me."

"For now, I think I'm just going to go home," Rispy says. "At least for a bit. Farewell, Harry Potter."

"Farewell, Rispy," I say. With that, the elf vanishes.

While I spend a lot of time in my room at the Leaky Cauldron, reading, I make sure to get out into Diagon Alley for a bit and browse every day. I'm not looking for things to buy, however. I'm primarily keeping an eye out for my future classmates.

One day, I spot a family wearing Muggle clothes heading toward the alley. Upon closer inspection, I realize that the girl they are with is Hermione! Those must be her parents. They stare at the brick wall wondering how to get in. Someone must have forgotten that they'd need a wand to get inside, and that Hermione won't be able to get a wand until she's inside.

"Hello," I say, approaching them. "Having trouble? Here, let me help you with that." I pull out my wand and tap the appropriate bricks, opening up the entrance into Diagon Alley.

"Thank you, young man," says Hermione's mother. "This is our first time here."

"I figured as much," I say, heading along with them as they go inside. "I'm Harry Potter," I say to Hermione. "Starting Hogwarts this year, too?"

"That's right," she says. "I'm Hermione Granger. I was ever so surprised when Professor McGonagall came with my letter. Nobody in my family has ever had magic at all!"

"Maybe they have and you just don't know about it," I say. "It could've been many generations ago."

"Do you think so?" says Hermione's father.

"Magic doesn't just spring up out of nowhere," I say. "But it can lay dormant for many generations." I glance around at the witches and wizards milling about Diagon Alley. "But my thoughts are probably in the minority around here. Don't let the opinions of small-minded people get to you too much. Whatever your ancestry, I'm certain that you will make a great witch one day."

"There are people who would look down on our daughter?" the mother says.

I shrug. "There's always going to be people who feel the need to put down others in order to make themselves feel more important. I just thought I should warn you. But don't worry. Not everyone is like that. I've got your back. I'll be your friend." I smile at Hermione, and give her a small bow.

Hermione beams. "Really? I'd be happy to be your friend!"

"Oh, that's so wonderful!" Mrs. Granger says. "You're such a charming and intelligent young man, and Hermione never had many friends at her old school."

I accompany them around Diagon Alley as they get their money changed and pick up Hermione's books and school supplies.

"What's down that way?" Hermione wonders, looking off to the darker side street.

"Oh, that's Knockturn Alley," I say. "It's got places offering stuff that's pretty dangerous and questionable."

"Ah," Mr. Granger says. "Perhaps not the best place for us to go, then."

"Probably not," I agree.

Hermione and her parents go home once they're done, and I bit them goodbye for now. That went well enough. I mentally make note of the date for future reference. Barring any interference, Hermione will visit Diagon Alley on July 24th. Planning ahead for contingencies that may or may not be necessary or useful?

Neville shows up on the 30th. Ah, that would be his birthday. He's with his grandmother, who is wearing the most hideous hat I have ever seen, that looks as though it has a vulture sitting on top of it. I set my mind to fervently ignoring it, and go to greet them as they're picking up Neville's school books.

"Hello," I say. "You going to Hogwarts this year, too?"

"Yeah..." Neville says quietly.

Augusta Longbottom peers at me intently, noticing the scar on my forehead. "Ah! You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"That I am," I say.

"I'm Augusta Longbottom, and this is my grandson, Neville."

I give a bow toward them. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Hello," Neville says politely.

"Are you here by yourself, Harry?" Augusta asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron over the summer."

"Why would you do that?" Augusta says. "You could have stayed at the Longbottom house if you'd asked."

"It's alright," I say. "I like being close to the shops and everything here. I grew up in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing like this anywhere near where I lived."

"Why did they send you to the other side of the world?" Augusta says. "Unless I misjudge your accent, you were raised in the States?"

"That's right," I say. "They said it was for my safety, I guess. I didn't exactly have much say in it. I was just a baby, after all."

"And your foster family just let you come to England on your own?" Augusta asks.

"It's... a long story," I say, sighing. "But I'm alright. I can take care of myself."

I should probably have expected to be interrogated about it. At least I've thought enough about it in both visits to this world to be able to come up with some sort of answer.

"So you say," Augusta says. "I still think you're entirely too young to be running around on your own, and your guardians are highly irresponsible for allowing you to do so."

"Hey," I say, fixing a glare upon her. "Don't speak ill of my family."

"Who sends a ten year old boy across the world by himself?" Augusta says.

"They sent me to Dumbledore straight off," I say. "And he took care of my arrangements."

"It just seems to me like they cast you out on your own," Augusta says. "Who are these people, anyway?"

"They are good people who just happen to live very far away from here," I say, grinding my teeth. "I would have dearly loved if they could have come with me. I'm sure my twin cousins would have loved to go to Hogwarts next year. But that just wasn't possible under the circumstances, alright?"

"As you say," Augusta says. "Come, Neville. Let us go. We have much to do yet."

Neville gives me an apologetic look as his grandmother practically drags him away. Well, that could have gone better.

The next day is July 31st. Harry Potter's birthday. I don't know if I want to leave the Leaky Cauldron today, however. Draco Malfoy will be visiting Diagon Alley today, after all. Am I really that eager to meet him again? Well, I'm going to meet him whether I want to or not anyway, so it's just a matter of whether I want to meet him sooner rather than later.

I'm just not sure if I'm ready to forgive him for things he didn't really do. It's petty, I know. Still, I can't believe that an eleven-year-old is already a fundamentally bad person, however, no matter what kind of family he came from or how he was raised.

No, that's not it. It's not a matter of forgiving him. It's a matter of forgiving myself for murdering his parents. I do not believe it was a mistake. But it was still murder. Another world, another time, another life, but it's still a crime that weighs heavy on my soul.

No, there's really no sense in putting this off. Draco will be either a valuable ally or a vicious enemy. I can hope that he might be able to be the former this time around.

I head out to Diagon Alley to look for Draco. What time did I run into him in Madam Malkin's clothing store? I don't remember. It doesn't really matter, anyway. He'll be around, somewhere. I go over there to get fitted for my school robes myself.

As I'm being worked on, sure enough there's Draco coming into the shop. "Hello," I say to him. "You starting at Hogwarts this year, as well?"

"I am," Draco replies. "Do you know what house you're going to be in?"

"Eh," I say. "They all have their good points. I'd be happy in any of them, but I'll probably be in Gryffindor, because I'm a reckless idiot that stupidly puts himself in harm's way for the sake of trying to help other people."

Draco snickers in amusement. "Well, at least you admit it."

"But I think I'm getting over that, so who knows?" I say. "It's not very healthy, and gets me in trouble sometimes."

"I'm sure I'll be in Slytherin, myself," Draco says. "My whole family has been, after all."

"Family is important, too," I say a little distantly.

"You play Quidditch much?" Draco asks.

"Nah," I reply. "I prefer dueling, myself." I grin a little as I think of Snape blasting Lockhart right off the stage with just a Disarming Charm.

"Really?" Draco says. "That'd be great, too."

The seamstress finishes up with us, and we turn to head out of the shop. As we step outside, Draco gets a better look at me and notices the scar on my forehead.

"Wait, you're Harry Potter, aren't you!" Draco exclaims.

"Heh," I say. "Yes, I am. And you're Draco Malfoy."

"How'd you know that?" Draco asks.

"Blond, Slytherin, impeccable fashion sense," I say. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Draco says, grinning. "I'm surprised, though. I didn't expect you to have an American accent..."

"I was sent off to be raised by a wizard family in the States," I say, giving him the standard explanation.

"So did they come with you to England?" Draco asks.

I shake my head. "Nah. I'm on my own at the moment." I make a bit of a face. "I ran into Augusta Longbottom here yesterday, and she practically had a fit about that. I don't know about you, but I like not having someone constantly looking over my shoulder telling me what to do or what not to do."

"There's certainly a Gryffindor's lack of regard for authority," Draco says, though his grin dispels any malice in the words. "So what was this family who raised you like?"

"It was a small rural community, and they were the only wizards around for miles," I say. "And they were a long line of purebloods who decided to relocate to the New World a few hundred years ago. Heh, they're also crazy. In a good way, I mean. My great-grandmother, Hawthorne, was an amazing duelist. I wish she could come and teach Defense at Hogwarts. I hear the Defense professors are almost always useless idiots."

"That's what my father tells me, too," Draco says. "Don't expect to learn much of value from that class."

"Too bad, that," I say. "I wonder if Dumbledore would let us start up a dueling club or something."

"That would be an excellent idea," Draco says. "I should mention that to my father."

It's funny, I spent two years in this world, and never once tried to go home. I always assumed the worst, but toward the end there, I think I didn't really have much left to lose, anyway. And then I think back on the Weasleys, and realize that I did, I really, really did. They were like a second family to me. Will I be able to regain that relationship again?

"Father!" Draco calls out, practically dragging me along. "There's someone here you should meet." I didn't see when Lucius Malfoy showed up, and I find myself more than a little uneasy about encountering him again.

"Hello, sir," I say nervously. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Are you, now," Lucius says, looking at me coolly. "I am Lucius Malfoy."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," I say, giving him a polite bow. I've found that, while bowing seems to be uncommon in this world, it tends to give a good impression, especially toward purebloods.

"I see someone has taught you manners, at least," Lucius says. "And yet you seem ready to jump out of your skin at the sight of me. What have they been telling you?"

Crap, was it that obvious? It seems my feelings toward the Malfoys are strong and unsettling enough even to get past my Occlumency training. I quickly smooth my face. "My apologies, sir," I say. "No one has told me anything bad about you. I just didn't know what to expect. No disrespect intended, sir."

"Is that so?" Lucius says.

"He knew who I was right away," Draco says.

"I see," Lucius says, looking at me piercingly. "Would you like to come along and have lunch with us, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir, I'd like that," I reply hesitantly.

"Weren't we going to find a wand for me next, father?" Draco asks.

"We can do that after lunch," Lucius says. "It would be rude to keep the young man waiting while you do that."

"That's quite alright," I say. "I don't mind. I don't need to be anywhere today, anyway."

"No, no," Lucius says. "We shall get lunch first, and then pick up Draco's wand."

I can practically feel my self-control crumbling as I follow along after Lucius and Draco. They meet up with Narcissa and usher me along into an expensive-looking restaurant. A young woman shows us to a private table in a well-decorated room off to the side. It's very quiet in here, only the sound of light music can be heard. I assume that the place has wards over it to keep sound from going in or out.

"So, Harry, are you excited about going to Hogwarts?" Narcissa asks me.

"Yes, ma'am," I say, shifting uncomfortably. I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have come out of my room today. I don't think I can handle this.

"Harry suggested that we might be able to convince Dumbledore to let us start up a dueling club," Draco says. "What do you think, father? Might Dumbledore allow that?"

"Hmm," Lucius says thoughtfully. "If he does not, I could pull a few strings myself to make it happen."

"I'm sure Dumbledore will listen to me," I murmur. "Maybe."

"You certainly have a lot of confidence in him," Lucius says dryly.

The waitress comes in and brings us our salads before slipping away again out the silencing doorway. I have to twitch a little as I look at it.

"Is there a problem, Harry?" Narcissa asks.

"N-No, not at all," I stammer.

Lucius starts putting dressing on his salad. My body is shaking. I feel ill. I might vomit right here at the table at this rate.

"Harry?" Narcissa asks. I imagine her choking, slowly dying by the table.

"Harry?" Draco repeats, frowning as he looks at me. I think of him never being able to return home to his mother...

I fall out of my seat and curl up in a fetal positon half under the table. "I'm sorry!" I scream.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Narcissa says, her shadow falling over me as she comes over to my side.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I cry, trembling and weeping. "Never again, never again, never again..."

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Lucius says.

I've really done it now. I just couldn't keep quiet and act normal, could I. Maybe I should owl Lockhart to come and Obliviate them later. No, no. This was my own fault. I mustn't keep trying to hide from or avoid the consequences of my own actions, good or ill.

With a great effort, I climb to my feet again and drop heavily into my chair. "It's... a long story," I say quietly, trying to get some semblance of control over myself. The only thing that gives my mind any relief, however, is the thought of simply telling them everything. A confession to my own murder victims? Fine, if that's what it takes, then that's what I'll do. "I'll tell you all about it in a moment," I whisper.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I must center myself. I am the eye of the storm. I will control my emotions, not allow them to control me. I am in control. I will not lose control again.

I hear the door, and open my eyes to see the waitress returning with bread and hot soup for us. Once she's gone again, I sigh and say, "Alright, I think I owe you an explanation."

"Take your time, dear," Narcissa says. "Did something traumatic happen?"

"I killed you," I say in a small voice.

Lucius's spoon pauses in midair. "Come again?" he says.

"I murdered you," I say, only a tiny bit louder.

"Who? What?" Lucius says in confusion.

"You and Narcissa," I say.

Lucius frowns, looking between me and his wife. "I don't understand."

"In the future," I say. "I've been to... the future... and I killed you."

"Slow down, Harry," Narcissa says. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

I sigh, and say, "Yeah, I suppose that would be best. I'm not making much sense, am I. Alright, for starters... I'm a time traveler. I really shouldn't be telling you this, but damned if I'm going to make the same mistakes again, or let Dumbledore tell me what to do."

"Is that how you knew who I was?" Draco asks.

I nod. "Some bad things happened. A lot of bad things happened. And I murdered Lucius and Narcissa by having a house-elf give them poisoned salad dressing." My voice is hoarse, and I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the table.

"I... see," Lucius says. "Might I ask why you felt the need to murder us, then?"

"You'd acquired a house-elf named Rispy," I reply. "A free-born elf who wanted vengeance upon you for abuse. So I helped him to get it."

"You killed us... over a house-elf?" Lucius says incredulously.

"It seems like a silly reason, I know," I say, sighing. "But it taught me a valuable lesson."

"And what might that be?" Lucius asks.

"I won't use poison ever again," I say. "If I want to murder someone, I'll do it to their damned face."

"That's... perhaps not the sort of lesson that most people would take away from something like that..." Narcissa says.

"What kind of a murderer am I if I can't look someone in the eyes right before I kill them?" I say. "I don't know how many people I saw die during my time in the future. But I'll take the blame for all of them. They were all my own damned fault. And that included too many friends and allies. That included dying way too many times myself. But I think it would be more useful to kill than to die."

The room is silent but for the sound of soft classical music. No one seems to know what to say, and any eating has been put on hold for the moment.

"That was really not how I intended this day to go," I murmur softly, and absently poke at my soup with a spoon.

"What do you intend to do now, Harry Potter?" Lucius asks.

"Make fewer mistakes," I say simply. "Protect my friends. Grow powerful. Live."

"A worthy enough goal," Lucius says. "But who are your friends?"

I snort softly. "That remains to be seen, this time around," I say. "Or are you asking which side I'm on?" I shake my head a bit. "I don't see sides. I see people. Perhaps things would be simpler if I could see the world in black and white." It's pretty easy to think someone is evil just because they abuse house-elves, though.

"I see," Lucius says.

"You have to understand, I spent the last year practically going insane and becoming suspicious of everyone," I say. "And people were dying, and I kept trying futilely to save them, and only wound up making things worse. One person died, and I went back in time to save him. Then a different person died instead, so I went back to try to save her... and then half the teachers at Hogwarts died plus both of the people I was trying to save, and I passed out at that point and couldn't save any of them..." I sigh. "Everything just fell apart. It was a disaster."

"That must have been terrible for you," Narcissa says.

"What on earth happened to cause such a thing?" Lucius asks.

"You'll forgive me if I'd rather not give you the details of future events," I say. "I've already said too much. I don't want to inadvertently influence things in unintended ways."

"And what of us?" Lucius says.

"I considered having you Obliviated," I say. "Or even going back to this morning and erasing this day. But I won't. I made a mistake and lost control. I'll just have to deal with the consequences of that." I think if I did try to cover up this mistake, I might just wind up having the same reaction again at a later date. I can't have that. I need to face things rather than run away.

The waitress comes in and brings us our actual meal. I'm calm again, and my stomach has settled by this point, although I have to wonder if I've killed the appetites of my companions with my morbid talk.

"So," Lucius says thoughtfully. "You didn't kill us for being enemies, or Death Eaters, or political adversaries, or anything else... just for mistreating a house-elf?"

"That's right," I say.

"Perhaps we should consider being nicer to house-elves," Lucius says dryly.

I smirk faintly. "Well, that would help in me seeing you as friends rather than potential threats."

"And what would you do if we convinced the other old pureblood families to be nicer to house-elves?" Lucius asks.

"Then you'd be my new favorite people," I say seriously.

Lucius chuckles softly. "Well, I think something can be arranged, certainly."

"Are you saying that just because you're afraid I might try to murder you again?" I ask. "Or because you're trying to curry my favor?" He opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand. "Never mind, don't answer that. I really don't care."

"As you say," Lucius says lightly. "So, if I might ask, do you have any other touchy issues that I ought to know about?"

"I'll definitely kill anyone that attempts to Obliviate me," I say.

"Understandable," Lucius says.

"Seriously," I say. "I would rather be killed than Obliviated."

Lucius raises an eyebrow. "I had thought you were exaggerating when you mentioned dying before."

I shake my head. "Nope. It's complicated. But from my perspective, I'm effectively immortal. Whenever I die, I just go back in time instead."

"How strange," Lucius says. "I've never heard of anything like that before. Then again, I've never heard of an infant surviving a Killing Curse, either. Perhaps it's a strange side effect from that."

"Perhaps," I allow. Or perhaps not at all, seeing as I've never been hit with a Killing Curse at all, not being Harry Potter. But they don't need to know that. They already have one of my big secrets, that I didn't intend to be telling them today. They don't need to know the rest of it.

"Is that all?" Lucius says. "No hangups about Muggles, Mudbloods, the Dark Arts, or any of that?"

"No," I say. "Muggles are useless, Mudbloods are probably all just descended from Squibs anyway, and the Dark Arts could be pretty fun."

Draco is snickering softly, and Lucius steeples his hands and says, "Well, in that case, I'm sure we can get along quite well."

"I'm glad to hear that," I say.