Wasted: Prologue
Title: Wasted
Fandom: Inuyasha and Harry Potter, Crossover
Rating: T
Pairings: Sesshoumaru/Harry, Kouga/Inuyasha, one-sided Kagome/Inuyasha, mentioned Miroku/Sango
Disclaimer: Do you really think Inuyasha and Harry would be straight if I owned the rights to them?
Summary: Harry Potter managed to defeat Voldemort. The only catch is that he has to go into the past - or, more precisely, Feudal Era Japan.
Wasted
Prologue: Goodbyes
-
August 2nd, 1999
"Come out to die, Harry Potter!"
Voldemort knew that Potter was crouching low behind a statue, hiding away from the killing spells the child doubtlessly was aware Voldemort would throw at him. Voldemort, on the other hand, stalked the room he'd converted in the Malfoy home to be his throne room. He knew that he would be wearing a look of glee - finally, he had Harry Potter in his grasp, and the boy had no place to go! The child could only die here, and Voldemort would finally be free of him. Voldemort caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and he instantly turned on his heel, his wand out.
"Crucio," Voldemort murmured, with an almost sibilant hiss to his voice.
However, the spell flashed just past Potter's foot as he dove behind another statue. Voldemort, knowing his location now, inched closer, a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. The child was only delaying the inevitable. He wouldn't be able to survive this battle. Why Potter had decided to come and confront him alone, without any other people to protect him, was a mystery to Voldemort - surely the boy had to realize that he wasn't skilled enough to even wound Voldemort? Still, Voldemort didn't complain about the stupidity of his opponents. It just made it all that much easier to beat them.
Voldemort stared at the statue he knew Potter was hiding behind. "Are you scared, Mr. Potter?" he whispered, his words echoing in the empty room. "Do you wish to fight death, as I have? Or will you accept it, as your old fool did?"
"Expelliarmus!" Potter cried, darting out from behind the statue, taking the bait as Voldemort had anticipated.
Voldemort calmly took a step to the left, dodging the spell. It was a very strong spell, he could admit, but it would not be enough to defeat him.
"Is that all you have, Mr. Potter?" he murmured. "A few party tricks? Where it the prophecy child, the one who is supposed to be able to defeat me? Where is my equal?" Voldemort eyed Potter, who was circling him, his eyes narrowed either with concentration or anger. Voldemort sneered. "This is all the light has to offer?" he demanded. "They only have you, an ordinary child with no special training and no particular skills? Where is your power the Dark Lord knows not, Potter? Let me see it!"
Voldemort was reluctantly impressed when, instead of rising to the bait, Potter raised his wand again and cried, "Stupefy!"
Voldemort dodged again. "Give me more, Potter!" he cried, confident with the knowledge that there was no way that Potter could beat him. The child was simply too weak. "Surely you can do more than these basic spells! Surely you have more power!"
Potter had stopped circling him. Instead, he stood in front of Voldemort, a few feet away, his wand out and his face obscured by shadow. Voldemort fingered his own wand. He doubted that he would need it, but Potter had proved to be slippery in the past when he wanted to be, and Voldemort didn't want to let him get away yet again. No, today would be the day that Harry Potter would die, once and for all.
"Why don't you just kill me, Tom?" Potter asked softly.
Voldemort's smile was more a grimace. For once the boy spoke sense. "You are right, of course," he said, inclining his head. "I find too often that I like to play with my food."
He wanted Potter to die, but he wanted to drag it out. This was a boy who had evaded death by his hands for seventeen years. No one had ever lasted that long against Voldemort except Dumbledore, and even that old man had died by now. He wanted to savor Potter's death.
Potter took a step forward. "That's a nasty habit, Tom," he said, almost pleasantly. "I think it's time you grow out of it."
Potter raised his wand. Voldemort didn't raise his. Potter wouldn't be able to touch him, no matter what spell he used. Still, he was curious to see what Potter up his sleeve. His enemy was infuriating, but there were times when he could be almost clever. He wouldn't have been able to survive so long if he hadn't been.
Potter spoke in Latin, slowly at first, but gaining speed with every word. They were words of power - not a spell, not really, but the invoking words of a very ancient ritual. Voldemort recognized it. He had studied it as a child, when he'd been obsessed with learning everything he could about magic, especially the old ways. He remembered what exactly this ritual entailed, and his eyes widened with horror. He knew what Potter was trying to do. Voldemort tried to raise his wand, but found that his arm was frozen. He couldn't move. He could only watch as Potter continued to speak, magic thickening in the room until it was almost visible - a thin, shimmery veil of white, covering everything around them.
Potter's words slowed and, eventually, they stopped. He stood panting in the middle of the room, looking drained despite the fact that he hadn't used a spell. Voldemort knew it was because the ritual demanded more magic than some of the most complicated spells. For a moment, the room was quiet and Voldemort had a brief feeling of hope. Perhaps Potter hadn't had enough power, perhaps he hadn't researched it thoroughly-
Then, with an incredibly loud boom, the air ripped.
Voldemort screamed when the white light that had been shimmering in the air brightened until it was unbearable to look at. The light dimmed almost as soon as it had brightened, leaving the room empty except for two shimmering doors against the wall that hadn't been there seconds ago. Voldemort felt terror stutter in his throat. One of the doors shimmered gently, a dark gold-green color. The other, however, was a deep, stark black. It didn't shimmer and, in fact, looked almost normal - except for the feeling of malice coming off of it. It was then that Voldemort knew, without a doubt, that Potter had succeeded. And, beneath the terror and the rage at being defeated, he felt a kind of respect.
Potter came up to his prone body. He didn't like triumphant or smug or even happy. He just looked tired.
"This is the end of it, Tom," he said quietly.
Without further ado, Potter took him to the black door. With every step there, Voldemort could better feel the malice emanating from the door, and his terror increased. He wished that he could struggle, but his body was still frozen. Potter placed him in front of the door, carefully keeping Voldemort between himself and the door.
"Have fun in hell," Potter murmured, then pushed Voldemort's body.
Voldemort fell into the black door and screamed as he felt his body fill with the most agonizing pain. The blackness was encasing his body, wrapping him until, slowly, he disappeared. Moments after his body was gone, the black door disappeared as well, fading from the wall.
Harry Potter watched his greatest enemy disappear with a neutral expression. With a heavy sigh, he turned to the green-gold door, which pulsed as soon as he looked upon it. Harry smiled. Carefully, he came up to it and placed his hand in the center of the door. Immediately, green-gold light began surrounding his fingers and hand. Unlike Voldemort, Harry felt no pain. Instead, he all he felt was warmth. Harry took another step forward, and the green-gold light began encasing his body as well.
And then, with a flash of green-gold light, Harry Potter was gone.
Extract from "The Dictionary of Japanese Youkai" by Noki Su
Kurohyou Youkai
The Kurohyou ("Black panther") youkai originated in Japan as a hybrid of a regular of the normal hyou youkai. During the Feudal Era of Japan, when youkai activity flourished, the kurohyou were actually quite rare, mostly because many of them ended up being sterile. Only a very few lines flourished past that era.
The kurohyou youkai typically have all the attributes of the hyou youkai - the panther youkai shape, as well as increased speed, strength and senses. Their markings are usually more jagged in shape than other youkai, but the color and the brightness of them depends purely on the youkai's heritage. The youkai also have poisonous claws, which are more pronounced than some youkai breeds. The hanyou for the kurohyou often have both ear and tail attributes instead of the usual ear only, which is theorized to being because cats depend so much on their tails.
The kurohyou are loner youkai and often don't take family beyond a mate and whatever children they're able to produce. As for the children, kurohyou cubs develop quickly. With the full youkai, they develop extraordinarily quick, often coming into their powers early. However, the hanyou develops more slowly. In the few cases of kurohyou hanyou seen, they often are born with the tail and ears, but come into their power sometime in their late teenage years.
Extract from "Old and Dangerous Dark Rituals" by P.H. Lawrence
Viator per Universitas Ritual
The Viator per Universitas Ritual (roughly translated to "travelling through worlds") is an old and difficult ritual to perform. The very basic nature of it is that it uses the wizard's store of magic to rip a hole between different worlds to travel between.
It was created in 1209 by Hyperion Black, as a means of revenge. He wanted to kill Jonathan Travis, a psychopath that had murdered Hyperion's wife, Stephanie. He spent years researching ways to open a doorway to hell, or a hell-like dimension, before he managed to figure out a way to rip through the world's fabric using his own innate magic.
The ritual requires an extraordinary amount of magic, and oftentimes it has been tried and failed because of this. If the wizard performing it doesn't have enough magic, the ritual fails and the wizard usually dies from overextending his magic. However, if the wizard has enough magic to perform the ritual, then the doors will open.
The catch of the ritual is that the wizard casting must also travel through the door as well, as payment for sending someone through the doorway to hell. The castor, however, doesn't travel to a hell-like dimension, but instead travels to a dimension that magic itself chooses. They are never allowed to perform the ritual again, or to return to their home world.
The Viator per Universitas Ritual has been labeled as Dark precisely because of this stipulation. However, innately, the ritual is neither dark nor light, but neutral, as many rituals that do not require blood are. There has been debates among academics about whether sending a man to hell can be enough to label a ritual dark-
[the rest of the page has been burned away]
Dear Whomever It May Concern,
By the time you receive this letter, I'll be gone.
I know that we've been debating for weeks on the best way to defeat Voldemort, but a few days ago I found the page attached tucked inside one of the books I'd be searching through in the Grimmauld Library. Hermione will no doubt berate me for trying something so difficult when I know next to nothing about it, but I believe it was the only way to get rid of him.
By the time you read this, Voldemort should also be gone. The sooner you move in to make sure that none of his Death Eaters decide to take over for him, the better. It shouldn't be too hard for you. They'll be confused and disoriented from Voldemort's disappearance.
Since I will never see any of you again, there are a few finals things I need to take care of in this letter.
My Last Will and Testament is currently resting in Gringotts, ready to be read. I have spoken with the Goblins, and this time tomorrow I will be officially declared dead. I suppose the reading of the Will be sometime next week. Any personal remarks will be contained in that Will. I know that pretty much everyone in the Order is getting something (yes, that means you too, Severus), and I'm sure all of you will be invited to attend.
May you all have a long and happy life,
Harry Potter
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF HARRY POTTER
. . . .
TO Hermione Granger, I grant 15,000 galleons as well as any of the books from the libraries in any of my properties that she wants, as well as full access to all of them for the rest of her life. She also receives the small property I have in southern Wales, which contains a two-story house and the forty acres of land surrounding it. Hermione, you have been one of the best friends I could have asked for. You have more courage than any other person I know.
TO Ronald Weasley, I grant 20,000 galleons, as well as the property in northern England which contains a four-story house and the sixty acres surrounding it. Ron, we had our disagreements, but we always came back together in the end, and that's all that matters. Thank you for standing by me all of these years, despite how abysmal I am chess.
TO the Weasley family, I grant 50,000 galleons, as well as the property in eastern England, which contains a four story house and the fifty acres surrounding it. They are also to have complete access to any of the shares I have in magical and muggle business, except for the ones I specifically give to other people. Thank you all for showing me that families can love each other too.
TO Severus Snape, I leave 15,000 galleons, as well as the small Apocathery located on Diagon Alley, currently titled Potions and Things (I expect you to give it a better name, Severus), as well as control of any potions-oriented business shares (I believe there are three in all). He is also to receive a small property in northern Scotland, which contains a two-story house and the thirty acres surrounding it. Severus, you've taught me so much. I'm sorry for how I treated you for the first seven years of our acquantince, and I'm glad I was able to get to know you better. You truly are a heroic man.
TO Remus Lupin, I leave 30,000 galleons, as well as the property in southern Scotland (which, I have been told, is called "The Marauders' Pad") which contains a three-story house and the thirty acres surrounding it. I'm sorry to leave you on your own Moony, but you have to know how much I love you.
TO The Order of the Phoenix, I leave the property of Grimmauld Place, which consists of a four-story house. If there's ever a need for it again, you have my full permission to use it as your headquarters once more. Otherwise, leave it empty. There's too many bad memories in that house now. If someone could make sure that Kreacher gets work in Hogwarts as well, I would be most grateful.
TO Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, I leave the Black title and what's left of the fortune after it has been divided according to this will, as well as the remaining properties. I know that you were only protecting your family as best as you could, and I can't blame you for that.
Harry Potter blinked slowly awake.
He was lying in a field of tall grass, and he could feel ants crawling on his hands. Slowly, he sat up. His entire ached, as if he was covered with one solid bruise. Harry groaned, bringing a hand to his head. Where was he?
Slowly, his memories began coming back to him. He remembered finding the scrap of information about the ritual, the risky run he'd made into Voldemort's lair, seeing Voldemort being drawn into the black door and being drawn slowly into his own green-gold one . . . . Harry shook his head. He didn't remember passing out, but he supposed he must have when the door had closed around him, for from then on his memory was blank.
Harry stood and stretched, groaning as his stiff muscles started to loosen with a protest. He brought his hand up to his throat, where a small black charm hung around a thick leather cord, sighing in relief that it was still in place. The charm was actually his trunk, spelled to be tiny. Harry had known that he was going to be going to a new world, and had prepared accordingly.
Harry took another deep breath and reached for his magic. He was relieved to find that some of it had replenished while he'd been knocked out, and his reserves were no longer close to empty. Harry then turned his attention to his surroundings.
It looked like he was standing in some sort of field. He was surrounded by grass and, in the distance, he could see the beginnings of a forest. Harry wondered where he was - he wondered when he was. He wondered if could take off his glamour yet. Harry sighed. It would probably be best to see how this world dealt with youkai before he did that.
Harry had found out about his heritage when he'd turned sixteen, three years ago. He'd gone to sleep one night and woken up with ears and a tail and, when he looked in the mirror, jagged lines on his face, as well as cat pupils in eyes that no longer needed glasses. That day, he'd received a letter from his father and mother, telling him about his mother's heritage.
Lily Evans had hidden her youkai heritage her entire life. She'd been told she was adopted when she was very young, when she'd begun questioning why she had to put make-up over the bright green, jagged marks covering her face. Her mother had sat her down and told her that a couple had come to the Evans a few years earlier and begged them to take in their tiny baby daughter, telling them about her youkai heritage. They'd said that they were being hunted, and that they wanted their baby daughter to be safe. As soon as the Evans family agreed, they left, only leaving behind the name to give to the child - Lily.
When she was older, Lily had tried to research her heritage, but always ran into dead ends. She didn't know who her parents were, or if they'd survived. What she did know was that she wanted to hide her son's heritage, especially with the threat of Voldemort hanging over their heads. She had become so used to hiding her own heritage, that she automatically began doing the same for Harry. She covered him with glamour after glamour, until she managed to come up with a way to permenantly cover him. She'd told him the letter that after she died, it would likely take years for it to come off, and if it did come off, it would be one single moment.
Harry had immediately began researching the demon Lily said she was - the kurohyou youkai. In the meantime, he'd continued his mother's tradition and had hidden his ears and tail under a constant glamour. Not even Ron and Hermione knew about them. He'd meant to tell them after the war was over, but now . . . .
Harry sighed. If he was lucky, he'd come to a world that welcomed youkai. Otherwise, he'd be living under constant glamours again. Harry looked down the field. Well, the only way to find out was to try and find some civilization and see where he was. With another sigh, he started to make his way towards the line of trees in the distance.
Chapter One
Fandom: Inuyasha and Harry Potter, Crossover
Rating: T
Pairings: Sesshoumaru/Harry, Kouga/Inuyasha, one-sided Kagome/Inuyasha, mentioned Miroku/Sango
Disclaimer: Do you really think Inuyasha and Harry would be straight if I owned the rights to them?
Summary: Harry Potter managed to defeat Voldemort. The only catch is that he has to go into the past - or, more precisely, Feudal Era Japan.
Wasted
Prologue: Goodbyes
-
August 2nd, 1999
"Come out to die, Harry Potter!"
Voldemort knew that Potter was crouching low behind a statue, hiding away from the killing spells the child doubtlessly was aware Voldemort would throw at him. Voldemort, on the other hand, stalked the room he'd converted in the Malfoy home to be his throne room. He knew that he would be wearing a look of glee - finally, he had Harry Potter in his grasp, and the boy had no place to go! The child could only die here, and Voldemort would finally be free of him. Voldemort caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and he instantly turned on his heel, his wand out.
"Crucio," Voldemort murmured, with an almost sibilant hiss to his voice.
However, the spell flashed just past Potter's foot as he dove behind another statue. Voldemort, knowing his location now, inched closer, a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. The child was only delaying the inevitable. He wouldn't be able to survive this battle. Why Potter had decided to come and confront him alone, without any other people to protect him, was a mystery to Voldemort - surely the boy had to realize that he wasn't skilled enough to even wound Voldemort? Still, Voldemort didn't complain about the stupidity of his opponents. It just made it all that much easier to beat them.
Voldemort stared at the statue he knew Potter was hiding behind. "Are you scared, Mr. Potter?" he whispered, his words echoing in the empty room. "Do you wish to fight death, as I have? Or will you accept it, as your old fool did?"
"Expelliarmus!" Potter cried, darting out from behind the statue, taking the bait as Voldemort had anticipated.
Voldemort calmly took a step to the left, dodging the spell. It was a very strong spell, he could admit, but it would not be enough to defeat him.
"Is that all you have, Mr. Potter?" he murmured. "A few party tricks? Where it the prophecy child, the one who is supposed to be able to defeat me? Where is my equal?" Voldemort eyed Potter, who was circling him, his eyes narrowed either with concentration or anger. Voldemort sneered. "This is all the light has to offer?" he demanded. "They only have you, an ordinary child with no special training and no particular skills? Where is your power the Dark Lord knows not, Potter? Let me see it!"
Voldemort was reluctantly impressed when, instead of rising to the bait, Potter raised his wand again and cried, "Stupefy!"
Voldemort dodged again. "Give me more, Potter!" he cried, confident with the knowledge that there was no way that Potter could beat him. The child was simply too weak. "Surely you can do more than these basic spells! Surely you have more power!"
Potter had stopped circling him. Instead, he stood in front of Voldemort, a few feet away, his wand out and his face obscured by shadow. Voldemort fingered his own wand. He doubted that he would need it, but Potter had proved to be slippery in the past when he wanted to be, and Voldemort didn't want to let him get away yet again. No, today would be the day that Harry Potter would die, once and for all.
"Why don't you just kill me, Tom?" Potter asked softly.
Voldemort's smile was more a grimace. For once the boy spoke sense. "You are right, of course," he said, inclining his head. "I find too often that I like to play with my food."
He wanted Potter to die, but he wanted to drag it out. This was a boy who had evaded death by his hands for seventeen years. No one had ever lasted that long against Voldemort except Dumbledore, and even that old man had died by now. He wanted to savor Potter's death.
Potter took a step forward. "That's a nasty habit, Tom," he said, almost pleasantly. "I think it's time you grow out of it."
Potter raised his wand. Voldemort didn't raise his. Potter wouldn't be able to touch him, no matter what spell he used. Still, he was curious to see what Potter up his sleeve. His enemy was infuriating, but there were times when he could be almost clever. He wouldn't have been able to survive so long if he hadn't been.
Potter spoke in Latin, slowly at first, but gaining speed with every word. They were words of power - not a spell, not really, but the invoking words of a very ancient ritual. Voldemort recognized it. He had studied it as a child, when he'd been obsessed with learning everything he could about magic, especially the old ways. He remembered what exactly this ritual entailed, and his eyes widened with horror. He knew what Potter was trying to do. Voldemort tried to raise his wand, but found that his arm was frozen. He couldn't move. He could only watch as Potter continued to speak, magic thickening in the room until it was almost visible - a thin, shimmery veil of white, covering everything around them.
Potter's words slowed and, eventually, they stopped. He stood panting in the middle of the room, looking drained despite the fact that he hadn't used a spell. Voldemort knew it was because the ritual demanded more magic than some of the most complicated spells. For a moment, the room was quiet and Voldemort had a brief feeling of hope. Perhaps Potter hadn't had enough power, perhaps he hadn't researched it thoroughly-
Then, with an incredibly loud boom, the air ripped.
Voldemort screamed when the white light that had been shimmering in the air brightened until it was unbearable to look at. The light dimmed almost as soon as it had brightened, leaving the room empty except for two shimmering doors against the wall that hadn't been there seconds ago. Voldemort felt terror stutter in his throat. One of the doors shimmered gently, a dark gold-green color. The other, however, was a deep, stark black. It didn't shimmer and, in fact, looked almost normal - except for the feeling of malice coming off of it. It was then that Voldemort knew, without a doubt, that Potter had succeeded. And, beneath the terror and the rage at being defeated, he felt a kind of respect.
Potter came up to his prone body. He didn't like triumphant or smug or even happy. He just looked tired.
"This is the end of it, Tom," he said quietly.
Without further ado, Potter took him to the black door. With every step there, Voldemort could better feel the malice emanating from the door, and his terror increased. He wished that he could struggle, but his body was still frozen. Potter placed him in front of the door, carefully keeping Voldemort between himself and the door.
"Have fun in hell," Potter murmured, then pushed Voldemort's body.
Voldemort fell into the black door and screamed as he felt his body fill with the most agonizing pain. The blackness was encasing his body, wrapping him until, slowly, he disappeared. Moments after his body was gone, the black door disappeared as well, fading from the wall.
Harry Potter watched his greatest enemy disappear with a neutral expression. With a heavy sigh, he turned to the green-gold door, which pulsed as soon as he looked upon it. Harry smiled. Carefully, he came up to it and placed his hand in the center of the door. Immediately, green-gold light began surrounding his fingers and hand. Unlike Voldemort, Harry felt no pain. Instead, he all he felt was warmth. Harry took another step forward, and the green-gold light began encasing his body as well.
And then, with a flash of green-gold light, Harry Potter was gone.
Extract from "The Dictionary of Japanese Youkai" by Noki Su
Kurohyou Youkai
The Kurohyou ("Black panther") youkai originated in Japan as a hybrid of a regular of the normal hyou youkai. During the Feudal Era of Japan, when youkai activity flourished, the kurohyou were actually quite rare, mostly because many of them ended up being sterile. Only a very few lines flourished past that era.
The kurohyou youkai typically have all the attributes of the hyou youkai - the panther youkai shape, as well as increased speed, strength and senses. Their markings are usually more jagged in shape than other youkai, but the color and the brightness of them depends purely on the youkai's heritage. The youkai also have poisonous claws, which are more pronounced than some youkai breeds. The hanyou for the kurohyou often have both ear and tail attributes instead of the usual ear only, which is theorized to being because cats depend so much on their tails.
The kurohyou are loner youkai and often don't take family beyond a mate and whatever children they're able to produce. As for the children, kurohyou cubs develop quickly. With the full youkai, they develop extraordinarily quick, often coming into their powers early. However, the hanyou develops more slowly. In the few cases of kurohyou hanyou seen, they often are born with the tail and ears, but come into their power sometime in their late teenage years.
Extract from "Old and Dangerous Dark Rituals" by P.H. Lawrence
Viator per Universitas Ritual
The Viator per Universitas Ritual (roughly translated to "travelling through worlds") is an old and difficult ritual to perform. The very basic nature of it is that it uses the wizard's store of magic to rip a hole between different worlds to travel between.
It was created in 1209 by Hyperion Black, as a means of revenge. He wanted to kill Jonathan Travis, a psychopath that had murdered Hyperion's wife, Stephanie. He spent years researching ways to open a doorway to hell, or a hell-like dimension, before he managed to figure out a way to rip through the world's fabric using his own innate magic.
The ritual requires an extraordinary amount of magic, and oftentimes it has been tried and failed because of this. If the wizard performing it doesn't have enough magic, the ritual fails and the wizard usually dies from overextending his magic. However, if the wizard has enough magic to perform the ritual, then the doors will open.
The catch of the ritual is that the wizard casting must also travel through the door as well, as payment for sending someone through the doorway to hell. The castor, however, doesn't travel to a hell-like dimension, but instead travels to a dimension that magic itself chooses. They are never allowed to perform the ritual again, or to return to their home world.
The Viator per Universitas Ritual has been labeled as Dark precisely because of this stipulation. However, innately, the ritual is neither dark nor light, but neutral, as many rituals that do not require blood are. There has been debates among academics about whether sending a man to hell can be enough to label a ritual dark-
[the rest of the page has been burned away]
Dear Whomever It May Concern,
By the time you receive this letter, I'll be gone.
I know that we've been debating for weeks on the best way to defeat Voldemort, but a few days ago I found the page attached tucked inside one of the books I'd be searching through in the Grimmauld Library. Hermione will no doubt berate me for trying something so difficult when I know next to nothing about it, but I believe it was the only way to get rid of him.
By the time you read this, Voldemort should also be gone. The sooner you move in to make sure that none of his Death Eaters decide to take over for him, the better. It shouldn't be too hard for you. They'll be confused and disoriented from Voldemort's disappearance.
Since I will never see any of you again, there are a few finals things I need to take care of in this letter.
My Last Will and Testament is currently resting in Gringotts, ready to be read. I have spoken with the Goblins, and this time tomorrow I will be officially declared dead. I suppose the reading of the Will be sometime next week. Any personal remarks will be contained in that Will. I know that pretty much everyone in the Order is getting something (yes, that means you too, Severus), and I'm sure all of you will be invited to attend.
May you all have a long and happy life,
Harry Potter
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF HARRY POTTER
. . . .
TO Hermione Granger, I grant 15,000 galleons as well as any of the books from the libraries in any of my properties that she wants, as well as full access to all of them for the rest of her life. She also receives the small property I have in southern Wales, which contains a two-story house and the forty acres of land surrounding it. Hermione, you have been one of the best friends I could have asked for. You have more courage than any other person I know.
TO Ronald Weasley, I grant 20,000 galleons, as well as the property in northern England which contains a four-story house and the sixty acres surrounding it. Ron, we had our disagreements, but we always came back together in the end, and that's all that matters. Thank you for standing by me all of these years, despite how abysmal I am chess.
TO the Weasley family, I grant 50,000 galleons, as well as the property in eastern England, which contains a four story house and the fifty acres surrounding it. They are also to have complete access to any of the shares I have in magical and muggle business, except for the ones I specifically give to other people. Thank you all for showing me that families can love each other too.
TO Severus Snape, I leave 15,000 galleons, as well as the small Apocathery located on Diagon Alley, currently titled Potions and Things (I expect you to give it a better name, Severus), as well as control of any potions-oriented business shares (I believe there are three in all). He is also to receive a small property in northern Scotland, which contains a two-story house and the thirty acres surrounding it. Severus, you've taught me so much. I'm sorry for how I treated you for the first seven years of our acquantince, and I'm glad I was able to get to know you better. You truly are a heroic man.
TO Remus Lupin, I leave 30,000 galleons, as well as the property in southern Scotland (which, I have been told, is called "The Marauders' Pad") which contains a three-story house and the thirty acres surrounding it. I'm sorry to leave you on your own Moony, but you have to know how much I love you.
TO The Order of the Phoenix, I leave the property of Grimmauld Place, which consists of a four-story house. If there's ever a need for it again, you have my full permission to use it as your headquarters once more. Otherwise, leave it empty. There's too many bad memories in that house now. If someone could make sure that Kreacher gets work in Hogwarts as well, I would be most grateful.
TO Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, I leave the Black title and what's left of the fortune after it has been divided according to this will, as well as the remaining properties. I know that you were only protecting your family as best as you could, and I can't blame you for that.
Harry Potter blinked slowly awake.
He was lying in a field of tall grass, and he could feel ants crawling on his hands. Slowly, he sat up. His entire ached, as if he was covered with one solid bruise. Harry groaned, bringing a hand to his head. Where was he?
Slowly, his memories began coming back to him. He remembered finding the scrap of information about the ritual, the risky run he'd made into Voldemort's lair, seeing Voldemort being drawn into the black door and being drawn slowly into his own green-gold one . . . . Harry shook his head. He didn't remember passing out, but he supposed he must have when the door had closed around him, for from then on his memory was blank.
Harry stood and stretched, groaning as his stiff muscles started to loosen with a protest. He brought his hand up to his throat, where a small black charm hung around a thick leather cord, sighing in relief that it was still in place. The charm was actually his trunk, spelled to be tiny. Harry had known that he was going to be going to a new world, and had prepared accordingly.
Harry took another deep breath and reached for his magic. He was relieved to find that some of it had replenished while he'd been knocked out, and his reserves were no longer close to empty. Harry then turned his attention to his surroundings.
It looked like he was standing in some sort of field. He was surrounded by grass and, in the distance, he could see the beginnings of a forest. Harry wondered where he was - he wondered when he was. He wondered if could take off his glamour yet. Harry sighed. It would probably be best to see how this world dealt with youkai before he did that.
Harry had found out about his heritage when he'd turned sixteen, three years ago. He'd gone to sleep one night and woken up with ears and a tail and, when he looked in the mirror, jagged lines on his face, as well as cat pupils in eyes that no longer needed glasses. That day, he'd received a letter from his father and mother, telling him about his mother's heritage.
Lily Evans had hidden her youkai heritage her entire life. She'd been told she was adopted when she was very young, when she'd begun questioning why she had to put make-up over the bright green, jagged marks covering her face. Her mother had sat her down and told her that a couple had come to the Evans a few years earlier and begged them to take in their tiny baby daughter, telling them about her youkai heritage. They'd said that they were being hunted, and that they wanted their baby daughter to be safe. As soon as the Evans family agreed, they left, only leaving behind the name to give to the child - Lily.
When she was older, Lily had tried to research her heritage, but always ran into dead ends. She didn't know who her parents were, or if they'd survived. What she did know was that she wanted to hide her son's heritage, especially with the threat of Voldemort hanging over their heads. She had become so used to hiding her own heritage, that she automatically began doing the same for Harry. She covered him with glamour after glamour, until she managed to come up with a way to permenantly cover him. She'd told him the letter that after she died, it would likely take years for it to come off, and if it did come off, it would be one single moment.
Harry had immediately began researching the demon Lily said she was - the kurohyou youkai. In the meantime, he'd continued his mother's tradition and had hidden his ears and tail under a constant glamour. Not even Ron and Hermione knew about them. He'd meant to tell them after the war was over, but now . . . .
Harry sighed. If he was lucky, he'd come to a world that welcomed youkai. Otherwise, he'd be living under constant glamours again. Harry looked down the field. Well, the only way to find out was to try and find some civilization and see where he was. With another sigh, he started to make his way towards the line of trees in the distance.
Chapter One