Summary: Harry fuses with the Haunter of the Dark and is raised by the wizard who rescues him. (Wizard as in HP Lovecraft wizard, that is!)

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Pre-fic Comments:

All latin can be considered 'doggy latin', in that I don't know Latin and am trying to fake it.

* * *

"Over the rolling mountains,
Over the rolling sea,
Come a band of angels,
Soaring on broken wings.
They're drinking whiskey,
They're getting high..."

- Karma to Burn, "Twin Sisters And Half A Bottle Of Bourbon"

* * *

BOY WHO LIVED CAUGHT BY CULTISTS (1982, Nov-01) By Dori Skeeter

The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, was yesterday found to be held captive by the cultists of 'The Church Of Starry Wisdom' for up to a year, subsequent to his abduction from his Muggle guardians. A team of Aurors headed by 'Mad Eye' Moody arrived a day late to rescue the saviour of the wizarding world, as a mob of muggles had already set fire to the cultists' church. Reports have come in to this intrepid reporter of an unknown wizard directing the muggles efforts to eradicate the demon worshipping cultists. Little is known of this mystery man, as the muggles only called him 'Old Wizard Harris.'

A crack team of Obliviators were working overtime to correct all the breaches of the Muggle-Magic Revealment Act yesterday evening. While a statement from the Ministry of Magic announces that the 'Old Wizard Harris' has broken the letter of the law, this reporter is of the opinion that the Ministry cannot do anything but overlook this in light of his daring rescue of the Boy Who Lived. This reporter thinks that public recognition of some sort may be in order.

The Church of Starry Wisdom is well known for worshipping demons from the Dark Arts, the most infamous being the Haunter of the Dark. Initial investigations have shown that the prison of the Haunter of the Dark, the Shining Trapezohedron, has broken. We can only hope and pray that our infant saviour has escaped unscathed from this harrowing ordeal, and that the Haunter has been destroyed.

* * *

(1991, Oct-31)

Harry looked up at his guardian. He was currently being tutored by the old man.

"But sir, if you use /that/ chant, won't it interfere with the Circle of Circe?"

"Exactly why you /don't/ use the Circle of Circe!," the old man said triumphantly. "You use the Circle of Ariadne!"

Yes, this is Harry Potter. He can summon (minor) demons from Hell and chain them to do his bidding, but don't expect him to be able to tell you the different between chlorophyll and chloroform.

They were in a small London studio apartment with no carpet or lino. Dark stains marred the wood in disturbingly regular patterns, and wax shone off the floor at intersections. Harry was sitting at an ex-government desk at the edge of the room, with his old guardian beside him. A large, leatherbound tome lay open in front of them, written in a dead language.

Harry was the only person who had ever had red eyes, he was sure. Even Uncle Harris only had violet eyes. And he was almost positive that most children could go out in direct light without burning horribly. The short, blackhaired boy sighed, looking at Uncle Harris. He didn't look anything alike -- Harry's face was thin, elegantly built and his frame slight, while Uncle Harris was a tall, heavy set man with a wide face that was always smiling, but looked as if a frown was a heartbeat away.

Harris paused, looking at Harry. "What are you daydreaming about, Harry?"

"Sir," Harry hesitated, "are you sure you don't know who my parents are? I mean, surely you know something...?"

The old man sighed. "I'm sorry. The only reason I know what your name is is because the Head Priest was shrieking 'Save Harry!' I hope you're not unhappy with my last name?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I don't think I can concentrate on lessons right now. Can we go shopping?"

Uncle Harris let a crafty smile creep over his face. "I was sure we had enough bread left, Harry..."

The boy scowled. "Pigeons and ducks like stale bread, but I don't, and I know that you don't."

Harris laughed. It was a wheezy, croaking type of laugh. "Fair enough. We need to drop by Ma Baker, first."

Opening a drawer in the desk, Harris slipped a large revolver into his pocket. He also took out some amulets, putting them into a small bag which he handed to Harry.

"Got your hat?"

Harry nodded from under the wide brimmed hat.

The old magician walked out into the hallway, locking the door behind himself and his ward.

* * *

When the two got back from their errand, they found a letter for Harry.

At least, Uncle Harris /thought/ it was for Harry.

Harry didn't quite understand, since it was addressed to Harry Potter, and not Harry Harris LaVelle. Perhaps his parents were Potters?

"Strange, the place doesn't smell," Uncle Harris mused out loud. "Normally them messenger imps leave a bugger of a stink..."

Harry opened the envelope. If it was for him, yay, if it wasn't meant for him, he wouldn't find out who to send it back to if he didnt open it.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he read out loud. As he continued reading, his voice started to get quieter. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, order of Merlin, first class, grand sork, chef warlock, supreme mugwump..."

Uncle Harris frowned. "I never heard of any school for wizardry. Albert Harris LaVelle never got any letter, I just learnt it all from Old Nathan..."

"According to this, I've been accepted to this place," Harry said. "They expect my 'owl' by July 31."

"Owl? What daft sod would use an owl?"

"I don't know. Messenger imps /love/ eating owl. An owl wouldn't live long around here, that's for sure."

Old Wizard Harris scowled. Paranoia was a healthy way to live in his line of work -- if you gave an inch, Elder Gods took a yard. "We'll send a letter back to this 'Dumbledore', asking for more information."

* * *

It was lunchtime in the Hogwarts Staffroom, and the faculty who remained at the school over the summer vacation were sitting down to dinner when it happened.

A small, winged green demon flew in through the open window, holding a letter in it's talons which it dropped in Albus Dumbledore's lap. With a yellow *puff* of sulphurous smoke, it Disapparated to unknown spheres.

"... what was that?," Madam Pomfrey asked.

"It... it... it's not from /him/?," Professor Snape asked.

Dumbledore held a hand up for silence while he read the letter. "Some of our friends at Durmstrang use imps for mail, Poppy."

"It's not right!," the matron said indignantly. "They should use good, clean owls like everybody else."

For the first time, Severus Snape had the pleasure of seeing the Headmaster thoroughly shocked. "Albus?"

"It's... from Harry Potter's guardian," Dumbledore said. He began to recite the letter. "Dear whoever-you-are, I can only assume that this is a plot of some sort. To the best of my knowledge, there are no schools for Wizardry in all of Britain -- indeed, the only formalised place of learning the arcane arts is Miskatonic University, in New England.

"In the absence of any proof, I am forced to also assume that you are a member of some cult trying to abduct my ward, Harry Harris LaVelle, as you have provided little to no identification and proof of identity of this 'Harry Potter.'

"If you are indeed earnest in your claims, please attend my residence at nine o' clock, this evening."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Did you understand that at all, Albus?," Pomfrey asked. She hadn't.

"It's obvious," Snape sneered. "This 'Old Wizard Harris' that took Potter in is obviously a muggle daemonologist!"

* * *

Back at Wizard Harris' flat, Ma Baker had come a'callin'. It was after tea, and her household had just woken to a... surprise.

*KNOCKKNOCK*

"Harry! Get the door!"

"Hi, Ma Baker. Uncle Harris is busy right now, but you can come in and wait if you want; he won't be long."

Ma Baker wasn't physically impressive. She was a shortish woman, with greying brown hair in a tight bun, and little round glasses over her eyes. Ma Baker had never in her life been caught wearing pants, and she was rather stout. If asked what her job was, she would be rather evasive. If pressed, she'd admit to property re-assignment, or perhaps bank inspection. Her four sons were standing behind her, ranging in age from eleven to nineteen.

She sat down on the old couch that Harris had bought for guests, and waited for the old wizard to finish. While she waited, she nervously scanned a peculiar looking letter that her youngest had received today in a most unusual manner.

Then there was another knock on the door. Harry went to answer it.

"Oh, hi, Mr Brooks. Uncle Harris is busy, but he'll finish soon, come in."

Mr Brooks was of low-middle class, but quite happy with life. If he ever met Arthur Weasley, the two would find much in common. Mr Brooks had a job fixing computers, which didn't pay very well. At the moment, he appeared quite worried. His son was behind him. Mr Brooks had made the mistake of asking the old man to name his son, as he had been at quite a loss after his wife died in childbirth.

"We, that is, Satanus, received a, a letter on a school on wizardry and, uh, want to ask Old Wizard Harrisabout it," the computer technician stammered, quite unsure of what to do.

Harry nodded. The man took a seat on the sofa, once Ma Baker shoo'ed her youngest off it to make room.

The door to the rest of the studio flat opened at that stage, showing Harris. He had obviously just gotten changed, and was dressed in his good clothing, which was an exceedingly oldfashioned and formal suit.

"Oh, Albert, you didn't have to get changed on my accord," Ma Baker teased.

"Hello Ma, Tad," Harris greeted the woman and man. "What brings you here?"

"We both seem to have gotten these letters," Mr Brooks said, handing old Harris his letter. "Well, Satanus has gotten it..."

"And since you're the only wizard we know, we thought we'd come ask you about it," Ma Baker finished.

Harris examined the letters that the two parents had handed to him. Both were the same as Harry's letter, except for the recipients names and addresses.

"Hmmmmmmm," he said. "This is the first I've heard of this school as well. The Headmaster should be visiting in... half a minute to explain."

Ma Baker looked unhappy at this -- she trusted Old Wizard Harris far more than some unknown schoolteacher. Before she got a chance to complain, however, a whitehaired old man with a long beard dressed in a robe appeared in the flat with a *pop*!

"Ah, hello," the old man said, adjusting his halfmoon glasses. "Is Albert Harris LaVelle and Harry Potter here?"

"Who're you?," Ma Baker demanded. She'd gotten out a nasty looking sawn off double barrelled shotgun and had it pointed at the old man. "I don't trust strange people."

"Are you Albus Dumbledore?," Harris asked.

The old man nodded, happily ignoring the menacing gun pointed at him. He pulled a bag of sweets out of his pocket, offering it around. "Lemon drop?"

Old Harris slowly pushed down the muzzle of the old woman's gun. "Headmaster, I'm Albert Harris LaVelle, this is Harry, these are my friends Ma Baker and Mr Brooks, and I believe you owe us all an explanation."

Three of Ma Baker's boys took a lemon drop each, the eldest looking at Dumbledore suspiciously. Harry took one as well.

"Mr Dumbledore," Harry began, "you seem to know what my last name was. Do you know anything about my parents?"

"Yes, I taught them," the old man said sadly. "It's a shame that they had to die... pardon me."

The old man wiped at suspiciously damp eyes. Harry wasn't really affected; he barely remembered his parents.

Dumbledore recovered, and blinked. "My goodness, you're all here together? How convenient. The first thing I have to tell you is that magic exists."

"Old news," Ma Baker dismissed. "Old Wizard Harris here can do heaps of stuff with magic."

"The second thing I have to tell you is that Harry Potter, Timothy Baker, and Satanus Brooks can do magic," Dumbledore said, sucking on a lemon drop. "That is, independant magic, not only Ritual or Summoning magic."

Harris blinked. "Oh."

Mr Brooks cleared his throat. "If Satanus went to this... Hogwarts, what career would he be able to pursue? I mean, he'd be able to support himself financially afterwards?"

"My word, yes," Dumbledore said. "Anything, from Potions Mastery to Auroring to dragon taming is possible."

"What's it cost?," Ma Baker asked. "I can't afford to send Tim if it'll cost a lot."

"Are you sure you don't want a lemon drop? The only cost is for school materials."

"I'm not letting Harry go to this school without me to keep an eye out for him," Harris said.

"Well...," Dumbledore said, thinking, "there aren't any openings at the moment. However, several students have expressed an interest in Ritual Magic."

The old muggle magician nodded sternly, crossing his arms over his suit. "Good, then it's settled. Ma Baker, Tad, I'll look after your boys as well."

Dumbledore nodded. "It'd be best if you organised a syllabus now, then. Do you need any directions to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies?"

"That'd be nice," Tim Baker said dryly.

"I take it this is a boarding school?," Satanus Brooks, Mr Brooks' son asked.

The Headmaster nodded, handing Tim another lemon drop. "To get to Diagon Alley, you need to find a pub called 'The Leaky Cauldron', near Charing Cross Road. Ask the barman, Tom, to direct you to Diagon Alley from there."

"That about covers it for us," Mr Brooks said.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning then," Harris said as he showed Ma Baker, Mr Brooks, and the five children to the door. "Harry, go to bed while I discuss things with Mr Dumbledore."

* * *

The next day, they took Ma Baker's old Bedford van to Charing Cross Road. Somehow, the adults managed to all fit on the front seat while the six children took the back seat. They were all looking for the Leaky Cauldron through the front windows, as the back windows had all been blacked out.

"Did that old man give any other directions?," Mr Brooks asked, beginning to get quite annoyed. She turned down a dark sidestreet.

"No," Ma Baker said. "Silly old fool! You kids seen anything?"

"There!," Harry yelled. "The Broken Drum."

Ma Baker carefully parked the old van. An innocent car that had been parked too far from the kerb got it's paint unceremoniously scraped along the van's steel rear bumper.

The nine of them trooped into the small pub. The pub was filled with green smoke, and numerous people in black robes were sitting around tables. Old Harris strode to the bar.

"Excuse me?," he asked. "I'm looking for an alley to buy stuff."

The barkeep nodded wisely. "Looking for the Alley, eh? Through the back there, mate. Tap the middle brick once, smartly."

Behind the pub building was a dirty brick wall. The middle brick was cleaner than the rest, and Harry ran forward and tapped it. The bricks drew back into the wall to form an arch to a black street with shops along it.

"Right," Ma Baker said, pulling out Tim's letter. "Everyone look for some sort of book shop."

They'd gotten about ten meters down the narrow street before an aristocratic man pulled them up.

"Excuse me, but what do you mudbloods think you're doing?"

"I don't like your tone of voice, young man. I'm Ma Baker, so shut up and move along."

"Crucio!"

Harry could only look on, shocked, as Ma Baker writhed in pain, unable to do anything. Robert, Ma Baker's oldest son shouted out "Get him!"

All four Baker boys mobbed the blonde man, who was taken completely by surprise. Tim stole the man's wand that he had pointed at Tim's Ma, while the others kept hitting him. Robert was using a cast iron, meter long prybar that he'd had tucked away to hit the man in the chest.

Harry was sure that the blonde man had a few broken ribs now, as well as some embarassing bruises. The man didn't seem to know how to get the boys off him, as he ineffectively tried to push them off.

Old Wizard Harris had been chanting during this, building up to something. Harry and Satanus had given him room. Harry, recognising the end of the chant, yelled to the others "Get off him NOW!"

"... sodomy est humanare EXCRUCIATUS!"

A beam of scarlet light leapt from Old Wizard Harris' hands to the blonde man, who writhed in pain worse than Ma Baker had, before collapsing as smoke rose from his ears.

Mr Brooks helped Ma Baker to her feet.

"I can't believe that animal hurt you like that!," the computer technician said.

The old woman tottered over to the once handsome blonde man. Now, bruises decorated his face and his chest had some disturbing dents in it. She spat on him.

"Rot in Hell!"

A woman selling what looked like human fingernails approached them. "Oh, dear, that's Lucius Malfoy you just beat up."

"He's an idiot!," Harry retorted.

"Where can we get this stuff?," Harris asked, shoving the list under the woman's nose.

The decrepit female looked over the letter. "Ohhhh, Hogwarts. How on Earth did you get here? You want /Diagon/ Alley, that way. This here is /Knockturn/ Alley."

"Better be better than here," Harry grumbled. "Stupid asshole."

The group made their way to the /right/ Alley. Ma Baker handed out some mints to everyone as a reward for standing up for her, and so everyone was quite silent as they sucked on them. No one could smell anything after one of Ma Baker's special mints, but that was quite alright considering the state of the dark alley.

"/Here/ we go," Uncle Harris said as they got out into a bright, sunny alley. "Now, uniforms. Ahhhh..."

"There," Satanus said. "Is that what we're looking for? 'Madam Malkins Robes For All Occasions?"

"Worth a try," Harry said.

"I'll take them in," Mr Brooks said. "You and Ma Baker take a load off at the ice cream shop."

"Are you for Hogwarts?," Madam Malkin asked when they walked in.

Harry, Satanus, and Tim put their hands up silently.

"You, up onto the stool for a fitting," Madam Malkin commanded. Harry obeyed.

A pale blonde boy was also being fitted for his school robes. "Hello, Hogwarts too?"

Satanus nodded. "Yes, all three of us are going together."

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Satanus' eyes glittered. "I'd rather have a Diablo than a broom," he challenged.

The boy flicked his hands dismissively. "Without a broom, one cannot get onto the house Quidditch team, and that would be terrible. Do you play at all?"

"No," said Harry, feeling that the boy was terribly self-interested.

"I do," the boy said. "Father says it'd be a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I quite agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"A good one," Harry said evasively.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Of /course/," Tim said, voice in that peculiar tone that people use to mock the rich and powerful. "How /dreadful./"

"I've been dreadfully impolite," the boy said. "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And you?"

"Harry Harris LaVelle."

"Satanus Brook."

"Tim Baker."

"A LaVelle?," Draco asked. "There hasn't been a LaVelle in Britain for a long time."

"That's you done, my dear," Madam Malkin said, shoo'ing Harry off the stool. The lady pinning Draco's clothes announced that he, too, was done.

Draco said that he'd see Harry at the train, with which Harry disagreed but didn't feel like argueing with. Harry got the impression that Draco had decided that Harry was to do as Draco said, and didn't feel the need to ask Harry.

Satanus and Tim were then fitted for robes, then Mr Brooks paid for them. He had a bit of trouble with that.

"That'll be a galleon and two sickles, dear."

"Ah... how much is that in pounds, please?"

"Oh, are you Muggles? You can get your money changed at Gringotts Bank, but I'll let you pay this once. Thirty pounds, please."

"Thanks!"

The others caught Mr Brooks and the three boys as they walked out of the shop.

"Tad! You need to get your--"

"Money changed," Mr Brooks cut off Ma Baker. "The shop lady told us. Where is it?"

The old woman pointed down the alley at a big white marble building. She was quite obviously put out that Wizarding money was different to Muggle money, and thus was of no use if she took it.

At the bank, they found that the bank was run by strange little green men. Mr Brooks walked uncertainly to a free teller, and asked to change his money.

"There," the goblin said. "A hundred pounds exchanged. Is there anything else?"

"Could I open three accounts for these boys?," Mr Brooks asked.

The goblin looked down at the three boys. "These two, yes, but Harry Potter here already has an account and a safe left to him by his parents."

Tim and Satanus looked at Harry. "Who's Harry Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "It used to be my name, I think, before Uncle Harris rescued me."

"Instructions have been left to give you the key," the goblin continued, handing Harry a little gold key. "Accounts have been opened for the other two. Details are on these pamplets here, and here are the keys."

Satanus and Tim received their own keys in short order.

"Can I see my safe?," Harry asked.

"Griphook!," the goblin shouted. Another goblin appeared.

"Take Harry Potter to his safe!," the teller commanded.

Harry obediently followed Griphook to a mining cart. The cart immediately took off like a bat out of hell, zooming down windy little tracks. Finally, the cart stopped by a small door. Griphook unlocked it for Harry.

A lot of green smoke billowed out of it. Once it had cleared, Harry could see mounds and mounds of silver, gold, and copper coins. He got out a bag and started shovelling. He left nearly all of it in the safe, taking about fifty of each type of coin.

One wild cart ride later found Harry back in the sunshine (under his hat to stop burning.)

To everyone's disappointment, the rest of the trip was rather plebian, consisting of buying strange ingredients and weird books. Ma Baker and Mr Brooks had to talk very quickly to get Uncle Harris out of the bookshop, however.