Apologies for the lengthy opening note... but I ask you please bear with me...

I've debated perhaps a dozen ways of doing this one. The original "Canadian Intervention", released back in 2007 when I was using a different pen name, eventually featured Harry venturing into the past, and receiving training from the Isle of Avalon. However, there were a lot of problems with it, mainly immaturity in the writing style. Issues that prevent me from re-posting it. Instead, I take a slightly more mature route.

The original plot bunny hatched after I watched "The Mists of Avalon", the 2001 miniseries by TNT, which brought Marion Zimmer-Bradley's book to the small screen. Granted, there have been more than a few fictions out there that cover Harry harnessing the power of Avalon, but each has their own angle, and this is mine.

In case you skimmed the summary, this story will have SLASH in it, as in, homosexual relationships. Guy on guy. Wand on wand. Boy kissing. Whatever you want to call it. If your mind is too small to handle the idea, then you might want to click the back-button now. For those who are able to cope with the perfectly normal concept, welcome aboard.

A few other things to keep in mind, the time frame for Harry's universe has been moved forward ten (10) years. Harry being born in 1990, rather than 1980. The story begins the summer after Harry's fourth year, at his trial for under-aged sorcery.

Finally, I must stress that this story contains MATURE SUBJECT MATTER, and therefore garners the MATURE rating. There will be graphic depictions of violence, and the potential for triggering scenes and scenarios. Seriously. I have no time for people who ignore these warnings, read half the story, then post a flame at the first thing that makes them uncomfortable, because they failed to read the opening notes. You have been warned. Flames will be shredded and ignored.

Still with me? Very well. I then present, "CHAMPION OF THE GODDESS".

ACT I: CHANGE

"Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything."

- George Bernard Shaw

Posted November 23, 2014

SUMMARY: Harry is found guilty of violating the statute of secrecy at his hearing. He realizes he needs to start making decisions for himself, and flees Grimmauld Place, headed for Gringotts.

1. FINAL INJUSTICE

August, 2005

"The highest reach of injustice is to be deemed just when you are not."

- Plato

August 2, 2005
Courtroom 10, Ministry of Magic

"Not a very convincing witness," Fudge's words echoed in Harry's head, as he stood, staring at his feet. And really, Mrs. Figg couldn't have appeared more batty if she'd tried. 'Real nice impression there, Dumbledore,' Harry raged in his head, while the Wizengamot continued to whisper amongst themselves, deliberating the testimony just presented. Granted, Dumbledore had made some very good points, but really. Mrs. Figg opening her testimony with "I was going to buy cat food for my cats..." Yeah. That too left a nice impression on the court.

Then the whispering stopped. Harry wanted to look up at the judges, but found that it was really much, much easier to keep examining his laces.

"Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?" said Madam Bones's booming voice.

Harry's head jerked upwards. There were hands in the air... but... only a quarter, at most. His heart sank, as Madam Bones then said, "And those in favour of conviction?"(1)

As expected, the remainder of the Wizengamot raised their hands. Fudge looked around at them all, carrying a smug look on his face.

"Very well, very well," he spoke, almost jovially, "Having been found guilty of the charges, it is then ordered that you, Harry James Potter, be expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, effective immediately. You are to surrender your wand—"

Harry didn't let Fudge finish, but yanked his wand out of the waistband of his pants, and flung it at the floor.

"I hope Voldemort finds every last one of you. I won't raise a finger," he snarled. A storm of rage had welled up inside him—it was easier to be filled with anger than to acknowledge what he was truly feeling at that moment: crushing sadness, injustice, and ultimately, betrayal.

"Harry—" Dumbledore tried, but the boy was already storming out of the courtroom, leaving a sputtering Wizengamot behind. The young wizard's utterance of 'Voldemort' had a number of the membership looking ill, while others looked about ready to faint. If anything, it had been a right Slytherin thing to do, effectively stunning the room into inaction, allowing him to escape.

Dumbledore summoned Harry's wand, and stuffed it into the pocket of his robes, then waited for the room to settle down.

"Well, Cornelius, I hope you're happy," he said, gravely, "In your haste to see justice served, you may have just doomed us all."

"He-who-must-not-be-named is GONE, Dumbledore, and he isn't coming back!" Fudge blustered, though still unsettled by the boy's brazen use of the monster's name.

"Whether you wish to acknowledge the evidence or not, the evidence is irrefutable. Mark my words, the choices you have all made here will have serious consequences. Perhaps not immediately, but most definitely in the future. With that I bid you all a good day."

Dumbledore then swept from the courtroom.

Harry stormed past everyone in the ministry, ignoring Arthur Weasley calling out to him; he was completely focused on finding an outgoing fireplace in order to escape the place whose walls seemed to be closing in on him. Finding one open, he grabbed a fistful of powder from the small pot suspended from a hook beside it, flung it at the grate, then hurled himself into the emerald-green flames, commanding, "NUMBER TWELVE, GRIMMAULD PLACE!"

Harry stumbled out of the grate moments later, and barely had a chance to straighten himself up, before he was bombarded by questions.

"Just... leave me alone," he muttered, pushing his way through the small crowd.

He needed time to think about things... how to go forward now. He'd certainly considered the thought, but... really. Everyone had assured him things would be fine.

"Harry..."

"Piss off," Harry snarled, as he thundered up the stairs. He missed the hurt look that crossed Sirius' face. He made it up to the second floor, and into the room he was sharing with Ron, slamming the door behind.

The Dementor attack had been bad. This... this was worse. Far worse. No wand, no way to protect himself—Voldemort would finish him off the next time they met, that was for certain. Unless Dumbledore had some secret backup plan up his sleeve. The man held far too many secrets.

He was momentarily startled, when Hedwig fluttered down and landed on his shoulder.

"Hi, girl. Right mess we're in, huh?"

The owl simply puffed up her feathers, before rubbing up against the side of his head as a show of affection.

"Sometimes I wish we could trade places... wait."

An idea popped into his head. Maybe not trade places, but... Harry flung the lid of his trunk open, and retrieved his invisibility cloak, slammed it shut, then collected his broom, which rested in a corner.

"Care to come for a flight with me?"

So it was, that one fifteen-year-old ex-wizard, and one snowy owl, hidden under an invisibility cloak, escaped to the back garden. Harry counted his blessings that neither Alastor 'mad-eye' Moody, nor Professor Dumbledore were in the house; the adventure would have been over before it started. All the same, Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he mounted his broom and took off, his companion lifting off to join him.

Perhaps the stunt was a little reckless, but at this point, he really felt he had nothing to lose. The Wizarding world had let him down yet again. His friends had let him down somewhat... and so did Sirius, in a way. Dumbledore was a wise man, yes, but he was human, prone to mistakes, just like everyone else. And why was it he seemed to have authority over everyone? He was the headmaster of his (former) school, right? What right did he have to dictate what others did or did not do?

So many questions filled his head, but it all came back to one. What now? He sure as hell wasn't going back to the Dursleys. And why was it Dumbledore insisted he had to go back there in the first place? Maybe Sirius could let him stay at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had invited Harry to live with him over a year prior, right?

No. That would likely not work. Dumbledore would never allow it. But the question again... why did what Dumbledore have to say really matter? The more he thought about it, the more angry he became at the old man. Secrets on top of secrets, perhaps the largest grief Harry had with him at the moment... he'd still not given an answer as to why Voldemort had singled him out in the first place. Why him? What was so important, that his comfort, happiness, and potentially, his very life, appeared to be second-priority?

As it came on mid-afternoon, Harry found himself flying just above the rooftops near Charing Cross Road, and more specifically, the Leaky Cauldron. From the air, it was a little more difficult to spot, but after a few minutes' searching, he spotted the rather worn sign overhanging the street. He aimed his broom for the alley, and touched down. Hedwig fluttered down to again light on his shoulder.

"Right, Hedwig. Meet me in Diagon Alley, okay? I might have a plan." Well, a half-baked plan, but most important, he needed to speak to Sirius.

Hedwig again gave a gentle rub against Harry's head, then took off. Harry, meanwhile, stowed his invisibility cloak in his small rucksack, took a good hold of his broom, then stepped inside the dingy pub.

Harry groaned, finding the place packed with witches and wizards. Right. Afternoon tea. Typical of his luck. A few people called out to him, while a few sniggered behind his back, as he crossed the pub, and into the small courtyard in which stood the wall separating Diagon Alley from the Muggle world.

"Mr. Potter."

"Uh. Oh. Tom," Harry greeted.

"Rotten luck," said the barman, sadly, "They should've let you off."

"Yeah, but it's me we're talking about," Harry answered, "Uh, could you do me a favour and open the gateway? I..."

"Right."

Tom produced his wand, and tapped the bricks in the correct order.

"Thank you."

"Any time."

Stepping through the gateway, Harry made a bee line for Gringotts, with Hedwig lighting on his shoulder about half-way there. The plan was taking firmer shape in his head now... though really, if he could get Sirius' help, it would go much smoother. His trust vault might cover what he was about to do, but... it really depended on him having access to coin.

He at last arrived at the enormous white building that seemed to tower over the other buildings in the alley, and with a nod to the goblin sentry outside, he pushed open the doors, and entered the wizarding bank.

CHAPTER NOTES: Up next: Sirius joins his godson at Gringotts, and with the help of two account managers, provide Harry with the way and means to escape from Dumbledore and the Order's clutches.

(1) Taken from p.138, "Order of the Phoenix", Canadian soft-cover edition. Mostly verbatim.