A/N: For those of you that have visited my profile before you will notice that it is incredibly similair to one of my deleted fanfics. I have decided that thanks to COVID-19 I would kill some time and satiate my boredom with writing. Now, onto the real A/N. This story is influenced a lot by, what in my opinion is one of the top 3 fanfics on this sight, Harry Potter, Rise From Dust. It is absolutely amazing and you'll notice a few similarities in the beginning but the story is most DEFINITELY different. I recommend reading the above story as it is spectacular and I am incredibly sad that the author abandoned his work.
Also the Marauders school years happened 5 years earlier than cannon so when Harry is born Lily is 23 and when Andrew is born Lily is 25.
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Harry Potter stood over his brother, trembling in fear as the tall, pale man flicked his wand carelessly at Dorea Potter. The black haired woman flew across the room as the light left her grey eyes. The man turned onto the brothers, his ruby eyes glinting with malice. Two words were all that had to be said, "Avada Kedavra!" The rest, as they say, was history.
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Hadrian "Harry" James Potter was most certainly not abused, oh no, the Potters were too light to abuse him. But he most certainly was not loved, well almost not loved. He was adored by his younger sister Rose, who was 6 years younger than him. His younger brother Andrew, however, seemed to forget he even existed, as did his parents. No Harry Potter was most certainly not abused, but he was most definitely neglected. At age 5 he was forced to cook his own meals unless he wished to starve to death. At age six he stopped getting presents from both his parents and godparents. At age seven he stopped getting noticed at all. At age eight he was in Diagon Alley daily, doing random jobs for the shopkeepers, trying to save up money so he could afford supplies for Hogwarts, afterall it's not like he could depend on his parents to pay for them. At age nine Harry Potter was given a offer he just could not refuse.
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Perenelle Flamel was wandering down Diagon Alley, internally chuckling at the fact that no one recognized her. No, she and her husband had not been photographed or painted in over 300 years, and everyone seemed to assume they would look something like Albus too many middle names Dumbledore. Instead they looked to be in their late 30s, early 40s, but alas that is not important to our story so let us return.
Perenelle Flamel was wandering down Diagon Alley, internally chuckling at the fact that no one recognized her when she came upon the most peculiar sight. A raven haired boy, no older than nine was being given sickles by Madam Malkins. Now this would not be a peculiar sight if Perenelle did not know for certain that Madam Malkins had no children. No, the seamstress was planning on passing the store off to her niece when she died. So why on earth was she giving that little boy money?
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Harry Potter had just received his six sickles for delivering robes to Ollivanders and Flourish and Blotts when a lady, who looked to be in her 30s walked in. She had chestnut eyes and the same colored hair, which she wore in a long plait. She headed straight to him. "What's your name little one?"
"Harry Potter, what's yours?" The emerald eyed nine year old responded cautiously. The adults of the alley may treat him kindly, but not all adults did. His parents were a perfect example of this.
"Perenelle Flamel." The woman replied with a warm smile.
Harry's mind raced. He, of course, knew who she was. Who wouldn't? Perenelle Flamel, one of the most gifted witches to ever live, not to mention one of the oldest thanks to the Philosopher's stone. She was best known for her work in warding and rituals but she was still a master in nearly all of the other fields. Legends even had it that she and her husband could both flawlessly perform wandless magic. That was, however, a legend-or so Harry thought.
"Harry," Perenelle called again, lightly tapping the boy on the shoulder trying to get him out of his thoughts, "I was wondering if you would like to come over to my Manor for tea later today. I was a friend of your grandparents you see and I'd love to get to know more about you."
The seasoned witch could see the gears turning in the young boy's mind. While she had been telling the truth she did have an ulterior motive. After all, six hundred years was a long time to live and it would be a true shame if she had no one to pass her near endless talents onto.
"Really?" Harry asked cautiously. "I'd love to. We can go right now if you want I'm all finished with my work in the alley."
"Lovely, let's get going then. Grab onto my hand I'll apparate us to the manor." Perenelle replied with a light smile before offering her hand to the child.
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"Welcome, to Manoir de Flamel," Perenelle said to the nine year old next to her. Harry could only gaze in awe at the wonder that greeted him. Manoir De Flamel was a mix of both the modern style and 16th century architecture. The roof was a majestic navy blue while the walls were made of a nice light gray gneiss. The manor was two floors with an attic; it seemed to be roughly 12,000 square feet.
"Come little one, let's head in." Perenelle instructed as she opened the front door. The entrance hall was made of marble and reminded Harry of pictures he had seen of the White House in books.(A/N: I suck at describing appearances so for pictures, Interior is basically the white house, exterior = google French Manor, fourth picture from top left.)
"Follow me, Harry. We'll be taking our tea in the sunroom today." Perenelle said as she offered her hand to the boy who was looking around in amazement.
Harry nodded shyly before taking the offered hand as he continued to look around the manor.
"Stand up straight boy!" A gruff voice shouted. Harry's back immediately straightened, not out of listening to the voice, but more out of surprise.
"Charlus," Perenelle admonished softly, "you would do well to be kinder to your grandson."
"Grandson?" A silky voice asked, but it was not the silky tongue used by politicians in the Wizengamot, but the type of voice that made you want to cuddle up in warm blankets as it told you a story.
"Yes Dorea, a grandson. Charlus, Dorea, may I introduce Hadrian `James Potter, eldest child and heir of your son and daughter-in-law."
"Oh? Young Harry is that you?" Dorea asked. "It's been so many years. You probably don't remember me but-" However, before she could continue she was cut off "Granny Dorea! Granny Dorea! I missed you!" Harry said in a rare burst of childishness.
Dorea only chuckled in response, "Yes grandson I've missed you too. But why haven't you been to see us? If I recall correctly you should be around 9 years old, why haven't we ever seen you from our portraits at Potter Manor?"
And so Harry told them everything, of the neglect, the self-reliance, all that he had learned in the Potter Library, his work in Diagon Alley and how he had searched for portraits in Potter Manor but had never found any.
"Well the reason you never found any portraits is because you simply never looked in the right places." Charlus replied with a chuckle, his voice filled with much more warmth than it had when it told Harry to straighten up. "The Potters are one of the most ancient families, thus when we threw parties we didn't want to risk our secrets being told by a loose-lipped portrait. James should've told you where they were on your 9th birthday as per tradition. Nevertheless I'll make sure you know before you go."
"Yes, well now that we have all of that covered we will have to start your education. Make sure you don't make a fool of yourself in Hogwarts. Why I'd bet old trust vault you'd be in gryffindor with the amount of secrets you just shared. Tsk. We'll start politics and occlumency at once. You can learn the other subjects at an advanced rate once you're at least a stage 4 occlumens." Dorea stated, easily transferring into her old role as a runes professor.
"Yes, yes, we'll get all of that done, but first Harry, I do believe it is time for tea." Perenelle agreed, as she ushered Harry into the sun room.
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The sun was starting to set when Harry asked the question he had been saving all day.
"Lady Flamel? Will I ever be able to come back?" Harry asked nervously.
"Of course you will, I have already keyed you into the wards. Simply use the floo to get here, our address is Manoir De Flamel. You can some any time after 9am. Simply call for Mipsy, our house elf and she'll inform me immediately." Perenelle responded warmly.
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Three months later and Harry was a budding Occlumens, could recite all of the important Potters' history by heart and was starting to learn just how to manipulate the master manipulators. He was able to easily manipulate other people but it was much more work to do it to politicians, and only some of the best, such as Lucius Malfoy, could do it flawlessly.
"Now Harry, I want you to start compartmentalizing everything you learn, and put it in different locations inside your mind palace." Dorea instructed.
"Does this mean-" Harry started, only to be interrupted.
"Yes, Harry. Perenelle, Charlus and I will start teaching you magic. We will not be teaching wand based material until you are 10, just to give your core a little bit more time to grow." Dorea stated.
"I will teach you Arithmancy, and Astronomy, while Dorea will teach you Runes and Potions." Charlus started.
"And I will be teaching you Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, seeing as how those are the most hands on, and I am the only corporeal person here." Pernell finished as she walked over.
Harry just grinned in response.
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It turned out that Harry was an absolute prodigy are Runes and that creatures of any kind seemed to flock to him. While he could hold his own in Arithmancy and Potions. He absolutely despised Herbology and Astronomy. As far as Harry was aware, they were absolutely useless life skills.
"If you want to learn any wanded subject you must continue with your Herbology and Astronomy lessons." Dorea admonished as Harry complained yet again, about how much he hated the subjects.
"But it's not like I'm ever going to need them!"
"There are certain… subjects, outside of the Hogwarts curriculum that require an intricate knowledge of these topics. If you wish to prove to my idiotic son that you are the best wizard in the family then you should be getting the best grades, and be excelling in as much as you can." Charlus said. This seemed to give Harry a new life as he immediately went out to the greenhouses where he practiced potting infant mandrakes.
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"Gran? Gramps? Why do you guys have portraits here?" Harry inquired one day.
"That's a long story, for a different day Hadrian." Charlus began, refusing, as usual, to use Harry's nickname, "But long story short the Flamels and I served in the Great War, and we later worked together in the ICW. Thanks to our collaboration the Flamels gave us a portrait frame in their house."
"I guess that makes sense." Harry replied, still a bit confused.
"Don't worry Harry, it will make much more sense when you're older." Dorea chuckled.