Chapter 6 – Letter of Acceptance

White, all he could see was white. The ceiling was white, the walls were white, the floor was white, even his clothes were white, he had no idea how he had ended up in this seamless white room but he was sure this wasn't where he had fallen asleep last night. Thinking back the last thing he could remember was slaving away at his thesis before, well, he reasoned he must have fallen asleep then and there at his study desk. The logical conclusion was that this was a dream, a considerably lucid and realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless. Deciding he'd had enough of this purely white existence he pinched himself to wake up, ouch.

"I'm afraid that won't work."

Startled by the voice that came from behind he nearly tripped over in his haste to turn around. The individual who had spoken could best be described as Adonis made manifest; he too wore similar white clothing, though it bulged with his evidently muscular body, and at perhaps 10 feet in height he literally towered over him. His defining features were his emerald eyes, which shone like a blazing fire, and his shoulder length black hair, which was as dark as the starless sky and seemed to flow as if in a light breeze. An aura of light seemed to emit from his presence and he instinctively knew that this individual was unimaginably powerful, so much so that it took all that he had not to fall to his knees then and there.

Taking a moment to steady himself and adjust to this new overwhelming presence he conjured up enough courage to ask what was happening. "What's going on? Where am I? Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The unknown individual smiled and a feeling of peace and reassurance washed over him, did he feel worried before? Why would he feel worried, he was safer now than he had ever been, why would he worry when he was in the presence of such a benevolent and all-powerful entity? He knew that there wasn't anything that could possibly come close to harming him when he was with this entity, so he berated himself for his earlier near panic attack.

"Be not afraid, I mean you no harm. I am the Emperor of Mankind, and with you I am well pleased. I have come from a time in the far future, and in time you would have been responsible for an invention that would in its own small part help Mankind conquer the stars. Certain events have forced my hand, and I must step forward and accept my mantle far earlier than I had wished. Mankind must advance, must advance faster and greater than it could have, and for this I need you and your invention."

He was dumbfounded, absolutely and completely dumbfounded. He, a lowly undergraduate at MIT, was being personally contacted by the Emperor of Mankind for something that he would do in the future; and he knew it was true, he somehow knew with every fibre of his being that what this Emperor, his Emperor, said was true. He was overcome with a sense of unworthiness; he fell to his knees in submission and found his face wet with tears. He felt a weight on his shoulder and looked up to see his Emperor's hand upon his shoulder.

"There is no need for that," He said with a tone of fond amusement, "you are worthy of my praise, you and your ilk are the embodiment of all that is good in humanity, that instinctive desire to learn, to explore, to discover, to conquer, to mould, to control."

Rising to his feet with His assistance he knew that whatever it was that He would ask of him he would do it, how could he not. "What would you have me do?"

He patted his shoulder reassuringly and answered, "I only ask you to do what you would have done anyway, Mankind is in need of your invention far sooner than before, thus I am going to give your subconscious a gentle push in the right direction, you will still learn and find the path on your own, but now you will reach your destination far sooner than you would have."

He nodded in acceptance, to be able to discover and invent new technologies was his life's goal, and now he knew he would be successful, successful not only in his goal but in providing something of worth.

The whiteness of the room started to dim, and he knew that when it eventually faded to black that he would wake and may never meet with his Emperor again. He was afraid to ask but he had to know, "Will I remember this?"

He continued to smile, and once again embraced his shoulder, "No, I'm afraid you won't remember. You will awake, you will know that something happened and your subconscious will show you the correct path, but you won't remember this encounter."

He knew that would be the case, he had known but he didn't want to accept that he wouldn't remember this event, this life changing event, truly the most important event of his entire life thus far, perhaps even his entire life period. The light from the room continued to dim and the last thing he saw before it faded completely was the face of his Emperor, and he vowed then and there that he wouldn't fail Him.

The sun shining through his study window woke him at his desk, face resting on his hands, the papers he'd been using for referencing in his thesis scattered around the desk. He found a smile upon his face; he couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming the night before it must have been good. Suddenly a feeling came over him, he couldn't really describe it but some instinctual feeling told him to look again at a specific part of his thesis findings. Wait, how did he not see that before, why, why that could change everything. Grabbing up his work he rushed out of his room and headed straight for the labs, breakfast and a shower could wait; this needed to be tested immediately.

He awoke that morning much as he had throughout the week, finding himself in a comfortable king sized bed, the smell of room service breakfast wafting invitingly through the door, and the sounds of the waking city down below. He didn't need sleep as an average human would, but as he had no pressing things to do he had been taking the time that most would spend asleep to visit a dozen or so individuals personally in their minds each night, giving them a subconscious push in the right direction that should see a range of inventions and scientific discoveries in the next few years that would have originally been spread out over the next few decades. He could have just released the specifications himself or given it to them on a silver platter, but he felt that would be wrong somehow, mankind earned it thanks to their pioneering discoveries and he wanted to pay tribute to that. Besides, it worked better for his plans this way anyway.

Putting on his dressing gown he exited his bedroom, collected his delivered breakfast, and walked out to the table on the outside terrace to sit down and eat it. As we'd be involved in a lot of meetings and deals based out of London, or require us to fly somewhere from London, we'd booked out the top floor of The Dorchester. It didn't come close to fulfilling all his requirements, but it was more practical than trying to operate out of 4 Privet Drive, and it would do until more permanent dwellings could be constructed later that year.

He was halfway through his breakfast when he was interrupted by the arrival of a brown barn owl with a parchment letter attached to its leg. Setting down his cup of tea he reached across to untie the letter. It was as expected his Hogwarts Acceptance Letter, arriving exactly the same day as it had originally, though instead of the cupboard under the stairs, it was instead addressed:

Mr H. Potter
Harlequin Suite
The Dorchester
Mayfair
London

Opening the envelope revealed the expected acceptance letter signed by Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and the accompanying first year supply list. After telling the owl to wait a moment he quickly popped inside and grabbed a fountain pen, blank piece of paper, and an envelope from his desk and then returned to the table outside to pen his response.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,
I am writing to accept my place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My guardians have agreed to arrange for me to get my supplies later today. I will be present for commencement of term on 1 September.
Yours,
Harry Potter

Folding the letter in half he placed it inside the envelope, he took a moment to pen the address on the front, before attaching it to the owl's leg in much the same manner as the previous letter, before sending the carrier bird on its way. Hopefully they would receive his reply shortly, as the last thing he needed at the moment was to be bombarded by hundreds of owl delivered letters or, even worse, have Hagrid show up and cause a scene.

Watching the owl fly off into the distance he returned to his breakfast, having already organised a driver for today based on the assumption he would be receiving the letter the same day as before. As he'd be taking the day to collect his school supplies he'd already informed Vernon to take the rest of the family, who were staying in the other two top floor suites, to collect Dudley's school supplies too. Though unlike last time where he had attended Smeltings in Vernon's footsteps, he had arranged for Dudley to attend Eton instead, which would provide a far more beneficial foundational education.

An hour later he exited the hotel, carrying an empty duffle bag, to find one of the black sedans owned by the chauffeur company we'd employed for our transportation needs. The driver, having already adjusted to the reality of chauffeuring a ten-going-on-eleven year old around London, greeted him good morning and opened the door for him.

"Good morning Charles, to Charing Cross Road this morning if you please."

"Of course sir," he answered in the professional tone he'd come to expect from him in the short time he'd known him. He obviously took pride in his job, knew his way around London well enough, and had the common sense to know when to not ask questions. In fact he'd come to appreciate his services enough that he planned to take him on permanently as his driver, as he'd be needing one during his operations around the world and with the nature of his plans it would be better to have such a position be in house, so to speak.

Thankfully the traffic was relatively light that morning, as far as London was concerned at least, and as he was staying in the heart of London anyway it would only take less than a quarter of an hour to reach his destination. As he watched London go by through the car's windows he reflected on all that had been accomplished in the past weeks since his arrival.

After the purchase of Grunnings, which had been renamed Imperium Manufacturing, an overall holding company had been established through a trust to more easily facilitate the further growth and expansion in the corporate sector before he moved on to taking direct control of the nations of the world. Thus far the only companies owned by Imperium, the holding company, were the recently acquired and renamed Imperium Manufacturing, and two newly created companies, Imperium Financial Services and Imperium Genetics. Through some manipulation of the world's financial markets, which was child's play when one had precognition, he had already grown the initial funding from the original bank loans many times over, which had allowed for a team of highly skilled individuals to be employed by Imperium Financial Services to grow this fund over time. This would also allow him to slowly begin purchasing stakes in key companies around the world, ensuring cooperation in the coming technological revolution he had already kick-started.

Whereas Imperium Genetics had been established for two key goals, the first being the completion of the Human Genome Project a decade ahead of schedule, easily attainable when one was able to utilise technology decades ahead of that available to anyone else. The other goal being the advancement of cloning technology, which had necessitated a meeting with The Roslin Institute, to provide the expertise to bring forth the timeframe in regards to their plans to clone a sheep and, from there, continue with the cloning of other animals, eventually moving onto human cloning.

At the moment most employees, bar those at Grunnings' original factory, were administrative or clerical in nature, as no facilities had yet to be built, and thus were currently operating out of several floors of leased office space in London. He had designed the plans for several factories around the world to provide Imperium Manufacturing with a global reach, as well as outlined the requirements for the head office building in London, and the regional headquarters around the world. Imperium Genetics' facilities would be built in Edinburgh to allow for integration with The Roslin Institute, with the plans for the relatively advanced equipment that would be in use having been designed with current technologies in mind.

Finally, he had had a hand in designing what would be his place of residence for the foreseeable future, when he wasn't boarding at Hogwarts or out of the country of course. Said dwellings had necessitated the purchase of several blocks of current residential housing, thankfully the current occupants could be convinced to sell and council permission had been obtained easily enough, such was the benefit of mind altering powers, and the demolition of the current buildings was already underway. The new housing complex would be more akin to a hotel or office building than a private residence, it had been designed to house hundreds of his future acolytes, providing them with every convenience, as well as extensive underground facilities that would allow him to oversee the construction and implementation of technology and devices millennia ahead of anything imaginable in the current century.

All in all the planned construction at this point had come to around five billion pounds, and would probably end up costing another billion or two by the time it was finished by, should everything go according to schedule, late1992.

"We're here sir, Charing Cross Road."

The car pulled to a stop at the side of the road, his driver getting out and opening the door for him.

"Thank you Charles, I'll probably be quite some time, so why don't you go wait in a café and I'll call you when I'm ready to be picked up here."

Charles nodded, and with a "very well sir," hoped back in his car and drove away.

Turning away from the street he found himself staring at the Leaky Cauldron's worn and weary façade, otherwise known as the entrance to the so-called Wizarding World. He still remembered the scene that was caused the first time he entered this building, and he didn't wish a repeat. Drawing a bit of his psychic power he manifested a cloak of not invisibility but un-noticeability around him, much the same way as the power that covered the Leaky Cauldron to keep non-psykers away. His clothes, which were of a high quality and not out of place on this side of the entrance would stand out like a sore thumb amongst the robes preferred by the proto-psyker community, not to mention the lightning bolt scar, that had until recently housed a portion of one Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr's soul, was a widely known symbol of his person, that being the only reason he'd prevented his regenerative abilities from removing the blight on his appearance.

Walking through the pub door he noticed several vaguely familiar faces, as well as Tom the barkeeper, who'd he'd come to know quite well during his numerous visits in the original timeline. Passing directly through the pub he exited into the small walled courtyard that served as the entrance to Diagon Alley, and with a fleeting thought he had the entrance revealing itself to him.

Diagon Alley was almost exactly as he remembered it the last time he'd visited it in late 2116, and he wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't too dissimilar to its original construction. What certain pureblood wizards and witches saw as the epitome of the might and superiority of the Wizarding World over the Mundane he instead saw in the opposite light, look no further than the literal entrance to the Wizarding World and you saw the real effect their Statue of Secrecy had had, almost complete and total stagnation. Little surprise then that when the Wizarding World had collapsed in the early 22nd century that the wider community carried on unaware and without a worry, so little was there actual influence on humanity as a whole that not even a footnote of a footnote was recorded of their passing.

First things first, he needed access to his inheritance, if there was one good thing about the lack of progress in the Wizarding World, it was their old fashioned views in regards to a family's fortune, in their view when an individual become head of their family, regardless of their age, they were due all benefits and privileges that entailed. Not that that amounted to much in the modern day, but it did mean that he would have access to his family vault, a mere pittance in comparison to the fortune he'd already amassed in the past few weeks, but still more than enough to finance his expenses.

Gringott's Wizarding Bank, the only bank in the Wizarding World, and its run by a party known to be hostile to the majority of said community. Several times throughout the centuries the Goblin Nation had launched several rebellions against the ruling humans, none of them successful, each of them bloody and costly to both sides, and each ended before a final solution as the Goblins had a masterful card in their hand being the absolute control over the financial fortune of the Wizarding World. In antiquity they had had their own Goblin Kingdom, but subsequent wars with the encroaching humans had seen the destruction of almost all they had built, their submission to the wizarding community as bankers being the only thing that prevented their species' annihilation. And since then they had chaffed under the restrictions placed upon them, leading to the aforementioned rebellions, each ending in defeat, each leading to more restrictions, and each thus instigating the next rebellion.

The Final Goblin Rebellion, as it had come to be called, had occurred in later 1999, the Goblin leadership obviously thinking that attacking whilst the Wizards and Witches were rebuilding after their costly civil war would be their best opportunity for success. They had been wrong of course; the warp powers the Wizards and Witches were able to wield were far superior to that of the Goblins, which they had already known from all their previous rebellions. The climate of the Wizarding World at the time had not been the most forgiving, and the Goblins were quickly painted by the still recovering Ministry as a scapegoat for all the troubles they'd faced over the past decades, the end result being the total destruction of the Goblin Nation. Gringott's Wizarding Bank was renamed by the Ministry to reflect the new management, and thus the Ministry Wizarding Bank diligently serviced the everyday financial needs of the average Wizard and Witch until the overall collapse of their community nearly a hundred years later.

Dropping the psychic cloak he had around him, he walked up the white marble steps of Gringott's Wizarding Bank, passed the two armoured Goblins standing guard at the entrance, and walked through the doors and towards the first free teller.

"I require access to my family vault and will require a new key as I am not in possession of my current one."

The goblin sneered at him, as they tend to do around all humans, "name?"

"Harry Potter."

He seemed disbelieving, which wasn't too unsurprising, his fame reached even the 'notoriously uninterested in human affairs' Goblins.

"Of course you are," he mocked, "you'll need to provide some blood to prove your identity Mr Potter".

Having no wish to remain any longer around these creatures than necessary he took the dagger he offered him, cut the palm of his left hand, let a few drops of blood fall into the bowl he had provided, and then returned the dagger to him, by which time the cut on his hand had already healed.

"I trust the results are satisfactory then?"

With one final sneer for good measure he gave him his new key and called another goblin to take him down to his vault. A short cart ride later and he was standing at the entrance to Vault 678.

"Key please," the goblin asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

He gave the key to the goblin and stood back as he opened the door for him, returning the key to him once he had done so. The vault door opened to reveal piles and piles of small gold coins, called Galleons, made of real gold with a street value close enough to Gringott's exchange rate of about £5, fluctuating based on the price of gold, to discourage any muggleborns thinking they might be able to get rich quick by arbitrating any possible discrepancies in gold values between the two worlds.

In total there was near 30,000 of said Galleons, or roughly £150,000, a reasonable inheritance from a well off family, but insignificant in comparison to his current funds. Still, it'd be of more use to him in its current form than through either converting it to pounds or melting it down and selling it as bullion.

Opening the duffle bag that'd he'd brought with him for this occasion, he pushed a bit of his psychic might into expanding the internal dimensions and weight of the bag, allowing for it to easily transport the entire contents of his vault. Thus a few moments after he'd entered the vault he turned around and returned to his Goblin attendant, leaving a now empty vault behind him.

"I no longer require the services of Gringott's Wizarding Bank, you may close my vault, and here is my vault key."

He may be one of the few individuals alive to witness a Goblin have a look of pure confusion, evidently this had not been at all what he'd expected when he'd taken him down here. This wasn't too surprising; as they were the only bank it was unlikely anyone ever closed their vaults, except when consolidating fortunes.

A few moments later the brief look of utter confusion was replaced with the customary sneer that he associated with Goblins, "Is there anything else Gringott's can help you with today, sir?"

"No, that'll be everything," and with that he turned to get back in the cart, when he realised that actually there was something else he'd need to get at some point from Gringott's, so he might as well get it now.

"Actually," he said nonchalantly, "there is something you could help me with. There's an item in another's vault that I require, and since I'm already here, I might as well get it now."

"Do you have written permission from this individual to access their vault?"

"Oh, you misunderstand; I don't have permission at all."

The look of confusion was back, twice in one day, this must be a record.

"Are you suggesting that I would help you steal from Gringott's?" he questioned, his tone getting darker and more frigid as he spoke.

He allowed a manic grin to adorn his face, "exactly," and then, before he could do anything, he assaulted his feeble mind with perhaps more power than necessary, but this was a goblin he was dealing with so a bit of collateral brain damage wasn't too much of an issue.

"Now, take me to the Lestrange Vault."

Thirty minutes later he was once again walking the steps to Gringott's Wizarding Bank, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder containing the entirety of his vault and one antique small golden cup that had at one point belong to Helga Hufflepuff.

The next hour involved the purchase of a standard school trunk, and then the filling of said trunk with the cauldrons, books, potions ingredients, and other items listed on the required equipment list he had received that morning.

It was almost noon at this point, and he decided that he should probably get his wand visit over and done with first and then get a pub lunch from the Leaky Cauldron before returning to finish his required shopping.

The peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. He pushed the door open, the tinkling of the bell above announcing his entrance to Ollivander, where ever he was hiding.

"Good morning," he greeted as he entered from a side room.

"Good morning," he returned easily enough, "it's a pleasure to meet you Mr Ollivander".

"The pleasure's all mine Mr Potter, let me assure you, why it seems only yesterday that your parents were in here buying their own first wands, and now it's your turn."

He approached him, much as he had the first time, fixated by the scar on his head, in much the same way as he knew most wizards and witches he met would be. He informed him that he was responsible for selling the wand that had caused it, "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful." he of course already knew all this from his original visit, but decided it best to humour him, he'd found that individuals highly skilled in one particular area of expertise often developed unique personality quirks.

Once he'd finished reminiscing about selling young Tom Riddle/Voldemort his wand he pulled out a long tape measure with silver markingsand asked which was hiswand arm. He informed him that though he could use both fine, he did prefer his right hand, which was followed by all number of measurements, both of his arm itself and of other areas of his body.

Soon enough the measuring session was over and he presented him with his first wand to trial, a "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible." Providing me with an encouraging "Just take it and give it a wave."

He hadn't used a wand in literally tens of thousands of years, mainly using his will without any foci, or instead channelling it through either a force weapon of his own design or through the Golden Throne, which was, as a focus, to wands as a Baneblade was to a small model Baneblade.

Taking the wand as instructed he felt it immediately accept his power, as would probably any wand as overpowering as it was, he gave it a wave as instructed, feeling it trying to draw power from the warp through his own connection, oh dear, he could already see how this was going to end. In much the same way as he remembered what happened with his original Holly Wand after the defeat of Voldemort (or more specifically, after the removal of the psychic soul leach that had managed to block a significant portion of his undeveloped connection with the warp), the wand began to glow and turn red as the wood began to burn as a result of the amount of psychic energy passing through it. In a blinding flash of light the wand exploded, releasing a psychic backlash that knocked Ollivander to the floor.

"Oops, sorry about that," he said sheepishly, you couldn't blame him entirely for forgetting though, it had been over 40,000 years since that had last happened to him, he'd forgotten to heavily modulate the power he pushed through such a focus, "I think I put a bit too much into it."

He laughed good heartedly to show that no harm was done, no doubt he'd built up such a tolerance for mishaps as a result of the destruction wrought through his process of trial and error wand selection over the years. "No harm done, a bit too much power indeed; perhaps try a tad bit less next time."

Putting a reasonable amount of focus into it he was able to limit the amount of power he drew to a similar level that he had available to him when his connections, impeded by the aforementioned soul leach, had yet to fully develop. From that point on it went much the same way as last time, no focus really resonating with him, and Ollivander getting more and more excited as he went on, until finally he decided to try the Holly Wand that was Voldemort's Yew Wand's Twin.

There was an immediate sense of familiarity when he took the Eleven Inch Holly and Phoenix Feather wand, nowhere near the level of closeness he'd had with it originally, but still a connection none the less.

"Yes, yes. That wand has chosen you Mr Potter, of that I am sure, though it is not the wand for you, I can tell that just as surely. There is another wand, a great wand spoken in legend, I think you know which, and I'd wager that that you and perhaps you alone would be worthy of that wand. I think we can expect great things from you Mr Potter."

He shared a mysterious look with the eccentric wand maker, he'd never known exactly how much he knew, though it was evident he possessed some modicum of precognition to know of his connection with the Elder Wand, still, any secrets he may know would be safe with him. Taking out the seven galleons for the wand he placed it on the counter in front of him and, with a final nod in farewell, left to get some lunch. As he left he could hear Ollivander whispering to himself, "terrible, yes, but great."

After a satisfactory Leaky Cauldron pub lunch of a Steak and Kidney Pie and a Butterbeer, he returned to Diagon Alleyto finish his days shopping.

The tailoring session at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasionswent considerably better than originally, due mostly to the lack of a certain blonde haired individual that, should things occur as they had before, be getting his clothes on his birthday. He ordered several more outfits and styles than he had the first time, splurging a little extra to have his robes made in a higher quality material.

He next stopped by the Daily Prophet Offices, purchasing their ten year subscription package, if only to avoid the hassle of renewing. It was a terrible newspaper, barely deserving of the designation, but as with many things in this community, it was the only one.

His final stop for the day was Eeylops Owl Emporium, he hadn't had any familiar bond of other such magical connection with his old owl Hedwig, who had originally been a birthday present from the half-giant groundskeeper Hagrid, but she was literally his first friend, and he felt he owed her enough for the joy she had brought him to purchase her again. So, after looking around the store for a few minutes to locate her, he was the proud owner once again of a beautiful snowy owl. "Hello Hedwig, you don't know me yet, but we're going to get along just swell."

Exiting back into London proper through the Leaky Cauldron's front entrance, he took out his personally designed mobile phone, as the bricks in use at the moment just weren't for him, and called Charles his driver to come take him back to the The Dorchester.

As they drove back along the path they'd taken to get there in the first place he was confronted by the sheer difference between the two worlds, it was only a little over a month before he'd have to travel to Hogwarts to undertake his wizarding education, and he still had plenty of things that he needed to have done and in place before then. Still, everything was going according to schedule, the foundations had been acquired, the plans put in place, now he just had to wait for things to progress, and then things can really begin.

A/N

Portions of Harry's meeting with Ollivander are taken from 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' pages 63-65.

Another small reference to littlewhitecat's "Inquisitor Carrow" series, with the fate of the wizarding world not even meriting a "footnote of a footnote".

I've edited the story to hopefully fix the issue with switching between third and first person.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, favourites, and follows so far.