Harry Potter and the Reworked Universe [HP Rewrite] [Narrative Quest]

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, fellas. Had to reboot my laptop a couple of times because it's about as old as Bojack Horseman so it's constantly crapping out on me, and every time I lost whatever I'd written thus far.

If the first part is a little rushed, it's because I've already written it three times and I want it to be freaking over with.

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The last few months before Harry left for Hogwarts were a bit of a mixed bag.

On the positive side, which was the majority of it, Dudley was more than enthusiastic to help him gather products and think up ways to make a profit that he could then send back to Privet Drive. He even recruited his dorky friend Piers to recommend different comics, board games and TTRPG Source Books for Harry to take there, once Piers was convinced that Harry was going to some "fancy private school full of sheltered rich kids with money to spare".

Harry wasn't too sure about this "Advanced Dungeons and Dragons 2E" thing that Piers gave him, but Dudley swore by it. Same for the Cyberpunk 2020 books, though Dudley muttered stuff about the new Shadowrun ones' rules not making any bloody sense, even if the world was awesome.

In the end, Harry's magic coat pockets were so full of products that they were almost stretched to the limit, which was part of the reason for why Petunia and Vernon insisted that his clothes and half of his books went in a regular suitcase.

Also in it went Dudley's parting gift, handed over with disguised tears in his eyes.

"Cor, Dudley... are you sure?" Harry asked him when he handed it over. "It's your Discman."

"Nah, it's yours now," Dudley reassured him. "I... music wouldn't be the same if you're not there to tell me not to sing along to the lyrics."

"I don't always say that," Harry muttered. "But fine. If you're sure... I'll try to make sure kids from Hogwarts learn what good music sounds like."

"Yeah," Dudley smiled. "And... you can always come back. And I'll have more CDs to share with you."

"... yeah."

Harry briefly considered hugging his cousin. The rules of the patriarchy persuaded him otherwise.

Aunt Petunia protagonized the more bitter side of things. For the most part she almost seemed to ignore Harry, or even Dudley and Vernon. She withdrew from her social circle, and rarely wrote for the newspaper.

Harry tried to badger her into coming out of her shell, tried to reassure her. To little success.

The day before Harry left for Hogwarts, though, after the family came back from dinner at this Grill & Bar that Harry really liked because of their fish and chips, she stopped him after he brushed his teeth.

From the same shelf that she'd gotten the scrapbook full of pictures from, Petunia removed a small journal bound in blue leather. Upon opening it on the first page, Harry saw written by a messy hand the words: "Property of Lily Marigold Evans, Future Archmage"

Blinking without understanding, he looked at his aunt.

"She... wrote on it often," Petunia whispered, looking away from him and it. "When I asked her about it, she told me it had resources listed on it. She filled a lot of journals like it, but that was the last one she left in our parents' home. I thought... it might be useful to you."

Harry looked down at the journal and flipped through the pages.

Countless names, most if not all scratched out, plus doodles of geometric shapes and calculations, all flashed before his eyes. Closing it, Harry felt as if the weight of his ring and the journal doubled in his grip. More ties to his mother.

"I... I don't think you'll give parts of yourself away like she did," Petunia confessed, dragging Harry's eyes back towards her. "Not on purpose. But... corruption is a slippery thing, Harry. It can sneak up on you."

Harry said nothing, watching her.

"... If I was-- No. Because I was distant, I apologize," Petunia said. Tears glimmered in her unfocused eyes as she looked away. "Not just recently. But... I couldn't stand to lose a son on top of losing my sister."

Harry's eyes filled with tears, and he gave his aunt a hug.

Petunia had said that he would be able to find his way to Station 9¾ without their help, and seeing how her hands trembled over her lap as she returned to King's Crossing, Harry had asked to say his goodbyes at the car then walk in alone.

As he was about to step outside, Vernon had parked the car and hurriedly walked around it to kneel in front of Harry just as he stepped on the sidewalk.

"Harry?"

"Um, yeah?"

"I..." Vernon struggled for a moment, looking away awkwardly, before he just put a meaty hand on his shoulder and gave him a tight smile. "Make us proud. Alright, son?"

Harry swallowed and nodded.

Vernon almost made to pull him closer for a moment, then decided against it, patted him on the shoulder and walked back to the car.

Harry waved goodbye as they drove off. Dudley waved back the whole way until they were out of sight, and probably farther and further still.

Harry saw them go, took a bracing breath, then turned around.

The station was large and bustling with people headed to and fro. Spotting a guard, Harry briefly considered asking for directions, but he didn't really look like a magician. And he didn't want to make him suspicious of the existance of magic by being the seventh hundred kid to ask about the station because a bird gave him a letter.

So instead, he just walked deeper into the station and looked around.

It didn't take long to notice a certain amount of people wearing elaborate fancy clothes and large amounts of jewelry and accessories. Seriously, why did they wear so many accessories? There was a guy with a hat on top of his hat on top of his hat, and each hat tier had a little silver chain tied around it holding a small square gemstone.

Following that particular fashion disaster, Harry quickly realized that magicians were running into a wall.

And going through, which was a far better result than every other time Harry had tried to run through a wall. Except for that one drywall incident which Dudley had sworn him into secrecy about.

There was a bit of a line for people to toss themselves against the wall, which Harry joined the end of.

He looked around and found that whenever a magician ran at a wall, muggles were always just looking away. When they looked at the line of magicians, their eyes just moved past or through them without doubting.

It was a little disqueting, actually, how magicians just dabbled with people's minds with no notable consequences. Harry looked away and tried to put it out of his mind as the line slowly advanced.
When he got to the end of it, he swallowed nervously and marched on through.

Passing through the wall felt like running across a curtain, having it go up his face the whole time. And when he got to the end of it, he immediately ran into the last family to go before him.

He grunted and stumbled back in surprise, but a hand caught him before he fell back through the wall.

"Cor! Sorry about that, mate," a voice called. Tracking up the arm, Harry found a freckled ginger boy a few years older than him.

"Honestly, George, you'd forget your own head if I weren't around," another voice called. Harry turned to find an exact copy of the first boy smiling at him, before he grabbed his other arm and together they pulled him forward into a larger group of redheads.

"Too right, Fred," the first boy said.

"Fred, George, what have I told you about kidnapping random children?!" The only adult of the group, a plump matronly woman with wrinkles around her eyes from smiling chastised them. "For goodness' sake, Fred, you know better than to stand on the doorway."

"I'm George!"

"Nice try. There's an 'F' on your shirt, genius."

Harry looked. Indeed, there was an F there.

Fred looked down at his shirt, sighed, then looked at George, who had a G on his and a similar expression of dejection.

"We should've never let her make that pact," Fred muttered.

"Oh, y'think?"

"Best deal I ever made," the matron whispered, before turning back to Harry. "Hey there, dearie. Sorry about all the chaos. First year?"

"Um, y-yes, ma'am."

"Oh, so polite! I wish some kids would learn from you."

All the kids adopted expressions of innocence, save for the oldest one who just looked smugly at the others.

"You're included in that, Percy."

The oldest gasped, offended.

Harry felt a bit awkward and started to slip off to the side. Distracted as they were with their antics, none of the family noticed, except for the only boy to be about his age, who also started slipping in the same direction, taking his own suitcase from his mother's loose fingers.

With a tilt of the head, he indicated that they should head off towards the train, and Harry nodded back and followed.

Once they were out of earshot, he leaned in and whispered, "Shouldn't you say goodbye to your mom?"

"I'll wave out of a window," the boy sighed. "It's always the same every year, I don't want to get in at the last minute because everyone kept arguing."

"Do they fight a lot?"

"Eh. Usually just when someone is about to leave for a long time, so we get all the bickering out of the way so we can hug and mum can cry about how handsome we are or something," the boy shrugged. "I just... didn't want to do that in front of everyone before my first day, you know?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure he totally understood, but it wasn't really any of his business.

They got on the train and quickly found an empty compartment. They had to stand on the seats to put away their luggage, but once that was done they sat on opposite sides, in a bit of an awkward silence.

"Oh, um, I'm Ron, by the way," the boy said, putting a hand forward. "Ron Weasley."

"Harry," he replied. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he added, "Harry Potter."

Ron blinked.

Then he blinked again.

"Are you taking the piss?" he asked.

"No," Harry said, smiling a bit in amusement, "I'd show you my driver's liscense, but I'm eleven, so... I dunno, what do people know about me?"

"... Dad said that Dumbledore said that a bit of shrapnel gave you a weird scar on your head," Ron cautiously mentioned.

Harry parted his unruly hair and showed his lightningbolt scar.

Ron blinked a third time.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, "You really are Prince Potter, aren't you?"

"Uh..."

[][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Just Harry's fine, mate: Harry doesn't like being addressed as Prince Potter. He automatically discourages people from calling him that.

[][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Sure, that's me: Harry doesn't mind it, but he doesn't pursue it either. If someone calls him that, fine. If they don't, fine. It's whatever.

[][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] That I am, but you can just call me Potter: Harry likes being called Prince Potter. He's not going to be a prat about it, but he preffers to be called Potter and if someone makes him mad they damn well better call him by his title. Think "Mistress" Weatherwax, Granny Weatherwax to friends, "friends" and allies.

"Huh..." said Ron, "Well, um, it's nice to meet you."

"Thanks! You too."

"Can I ask, where have you been? They said you went into hiding because the Unspeakable's followers might want to... hurt you, but a lot of people still went looking for you and didn't find you."

"Oh, I've been living with my aunt and uncle, on my mum's side," Harry explained. "I only found out about magic stuff a few months ago."

"Really? Cor, I can't imagine being a Prince and not knowing."

"It's a lot like not being a Prince," Harry drily remarked. "Except you get a shock later in life."

"Huh."

Outside the sliding door to their compartment, Harry and Ron could see more and more students trickling in. When the conversation was about to restart, that Draco kid from Diagon Alley walked in front of their door. His eyes caught on Harry, then moved to Ron.

Again, like back at Madame Malkin's, his eyes hardened before he knocked twice on their door and opened it to step inside, followed shortly by two boys. The boy on the left of Draco from Harry's perspective was fairly short and skinny, with a bit of a girly face, and he was wearing a plaid green trucker hat with a four leaf clover on the front.

The boy on the opposite side was the single biggest child Harry had ever seen. He was outright comparable to Hagrid, in that Harry was pretty sure the groundskeeper had been the same size when he was eleven. His hair fell over his eyes and ears in shaggy dirty clumps, and he had a very square jaw even with the lingering traces of baby fat.

"Harry," Draco greeted, giving a small smile, "Good to see you again."

"Hey Draco," Harry smiled, waving. "Who are your friends?"

"Oh, these are my minions, Crabbe and Goyle," he introduced, gesturing to the small one and the big one respectively.

"You have minions?"

"Ancient pacts," explained Draco.

"Oh," Harry nodded. "Well, this is Ron."

"Weasley, right?" Draco questioned, finally turning his attention to Ron.

The ginger, for his part, lifted his chin a little and said, "Malfoy."

"... how do you do?"

"Can't complain. You?"

"I'm fine," said Draco.

A tense silence stretched for a bit.

"... um," said Harry. "You two know each other?"

"Our families have... interacted."

"That's a funny way of putting it, Malfoy."

"I'm a funny man, Weasley."

Ron gathered breath for a rebuke.

Yeah, no.

"Alright, both of you cut that out," Harry cut in, making them both blink and look at him. "Look, whatever happened between your folks, that's something your folks did. Did either one of you hurt the other personally?"

"Harry," said Draco, "The point is that-"

"Tsst!" Harry interrupted, the way he'd seen Aunt Marge interrupt dogs.

"It's about history," Ron tried, "We can't just-"

"Tsst! None of that!" said Harry. "Did either one of you hurt the other personally?"

"..."

"..."

"... no."

"No, I guess not."

"Good!" said Harry. "So, how about we all try to get along?"

Draco and Ron interchanged looks, before grimacing and mumbling agreements.

"Lovely," said Harry. "Now, how have you been, Draco?"

"Um, fine," said Draco, still a bit off his footing. "Listen, I just popped in to say hello. I'm actually looking for someone."

"Oh? Who?"

"Well, this probably doesn't mean anything to you, but I was hoping to get a word with Prince Potter," said Draco. "My family's territories are technically within his authority, and I was hoping to make a good impression since we'll likely be working together in the future."

... this was an opportunity to be really funny.

"Well, I'd say you'd already made a good impression," Harry brightly said.

"Pardon?"

He moved his bangs aside.

"..."

"..."

"... I'm going to kill you," said Draco, very calmly.

Harry laughed.

[][DRACO] Send him on his way: They might've called a ceasefire for now, but things might still be awkward and tense between Draco and Ron.

[][DRACO] Invite him and his minions to sit with you: You're already on friendly terms, might as well reinforce those bonds.

[][CONVERSATION] Write-in as many topics as you like (e.g.: Hogwarts Houses, How Harry Can Get Minions Of His Own, The History Between Their Houses, What Implements Everyone Has, Etc.)

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Author's Note: Just wanna let people know, I've got a Ko-Fi and I take writing comissions for cheap, if anyone's interested.