Prodigy: Born Again


After Harry Apparates to Godric's Hollow, he discovers magic and that he can use it, while the rest of the Magical World is completely changed while he is away.

Adventure / Humor
4.0 2 reviews
Age Rating:

A New Home

Author's Notes:

For several reasons, I have decided that the best route the story Prodigy could take would be to be rewritten. Thus, you can find the first chapter of Prodigy: Born Again, which is the same first chapter of Prodigy but with several things changed to make it look better.

Other things that you will find in the rewritten Prodigy is that some plot holes are closed or eliminated, Harry's initial behaviour regarding making friends will be made more realistic and things that don't do much for the story (like the infamous Goblin Prophecy that talked about Harry) are eliminated to make a far more interesting story.

Sorry for those that support the Harry/Hermione couple. This story is not going to support said couple at all. While I know you guys like them so much, I prefer the canon couples far too much to write about Harry and Hermione falling in love. However, it could take several chapters till we reach the situation in which any of the main characters of the young generation (as in, the Trio & friends) may be ready for romance, so I hope you'll read it at least until that moment.

Hopefully, you will read Prodigy: Born Again, and write even more reviews that you did with the original one.

Yours faithfully,

im100HPGWandRWHG (AKA Milarqui).

P.S. (November 7th 2012): just like someone reminded me, I forgot to give credit to jmcqk6, the author of the original Prodigy which I took up to write both my version of Prodigy and this rewrite.

Chapter 1 – A New Home

Prodigy - prod·i·gy. A person with exceptional talents or powers: a math prodigy.

Harry Potter was running.

It was a situation he found himself in quite often. After all, when you are chased by a group of people larger than yourself, and that group wishes to use you as a punching bag, the best thing to do is to run away. Unfortunately for the seven year old boy, the group of larger boys that were running behind him had a special interest in chasing and beating him, which made the occasions when he was caught quite painful. Though, at least every day he got training that would allow him to be faster, and thus the next time he was chased he was able to run fast enough to escape.

However, this day Harry was really unlucky. He didn't dare to look back, but he could easily hear the five children – his cousin Dudley and Dudley's friends, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon – running behind him. His eyes were dashing left and right, attempting to find either a teacher or some safe haven where he would be able to hide from the five idiots – as Harry called them in his mind – for enough time to make them go away. Neither was located by the scared boy.

Distracted, Harry turned a corner and suddenly found himself in a small alcove, near the back entrance to the school kitchens. He cursed to himself for not checking where he was. There was no other way out of there save the kitchens, and the door was only unlocked after mealtimes. It was too late to change course, though: he had lost a lot of time when he had turned and stopped after recognising where he was.

Knowing that the beating was not very far away, Harry looked around, searching for some place that would give him a reprieve or at least delay the beating. The big bin outside the kitchen caught his eye. It would be empty, and therefore probably be somewhat safe, although smelly. It wasn't as if he had a choice. He ran towards it and jumped, while wishing he was somewhere else, some other place, any place that was safe for him... Where the five idiots wouldn't be able to reach him.

He wished very hard.

With a POP! Harry disappeared from Little Whinging School, from Little Whinging, from Surrey – and from the life of the Dursley family. It would take days till other people realized this had happened.


Everything suddenly changed for Harry. A few seconds ago, he had been in mid-air, about to get into an empty bin, and suddenly he was falling down in the middle of a strange living room. At least, it was strange in the sense that he had never seen it.

When he fell, facedown, on the floor, dust was raised, making Harry sneeze. He was used to it, though: he had been forced to clean the Dursleys' house since he was big enough to hold a broom. Harry pulled himself up and, while he shook off the dust that had fallen on his too big clothes, he took stock of his surroundings.

There was a fireplace off to one side with a leather two-seater in front of it. Off to another side, there was a sofa and two armchairs surrounding a coffee table. All of it was covered with a thick layer of dust. Soon, Harry realized that not only the furniture, but the fireplace and the whole floor – save for where he had landed – was covered in the same layer of dust: it was obvious that no one had been in the room for several years.

Harry then noticed something over the fireplace, and walked nearer in order to see it better. The mantle over it was displaying a coat of arms coloured in deep red and gold. The centre of it had just a fierce looking animal on it. This animal was something Harry had never seen before, although he could see that it was a cross between a lion and some sort of bird, perhaps an eagle. Two stars were shining at the top left and right, and a sword and shield occupied the sides of the strange animal.

However, underneath the shield Harry found something far more important than the animal, the stars or the weapons. It was a single word, sewn in bold silver letters. It was a name: Potter.

Harry frowned at the sight. What was a banner with his surname on it doing in the middle of a room in a house he had never been into?

Harry's first instinct upon arriving there, apart from being glad that he had managed to get away from being beaten up by his cousin, would have been to leave, afraid of what could happen if the owners were to discover his presence. His uncle had complained many times about squatters whenever they appeared at the news, and liked to say that Harry would probably have to become one since he was a 'freak'. However, now that he had seen his surname there, his curiosity was piqued. Perhaps this was the home of some relative he had never known he had. Perhaps this family would save him from the hell he knew as 'home'.

The fact that the room obviously hadn't been lived in for several years was momentarily forgotten with the arrival of this new idea. With a burst of courage, Harry moved towards the door and opened it, ready to explore more of this house.

The other side of the door revealed another room, similar to the entrance hall at Privet Drive, but bigger. This room had a major difference from the one he had just parted from: it was a real wreck. Shattered glass and small wood splinters could be found all around the floor. To his right, there was a hole that Harry surmised opened to the outside: it had to be the front door.

Said door could be seen at the other side of the room, and it was shattered. It was as if an explosion had broken the door from its hinges and blew it across the room. From that, it was obvious that no one lived in the house. Harry decided to leave the house. Even if it might have something to do with his family, he wouldn't find anyone there. Moving towards the front opening, Harry looked out.

Soon, Harry's ideas of departure from the house were squashed – not that he didn't mind. The front lawn of the house was in total disarray, as if no one had worked on the garden for years. From his place, the edge of the lawn turned into a dark forest that seemed to have no end. From the silence he heard, only filled by the song of birds, it was obvious that he was quite far away from some other house where people lived.

Harry turned back to the house, intent on exploring it. If he was going to have to live there, until he was found, he might as well explore the rest of the house. Near the space where the door had fallen, a stairway led to a second floor. The entrance hall had four more doors apart from the one that led to the room he had landed in. Turning to the door nearest to where he was, Harry found that it was a small cupboard, with a couple of coats and a trenchcoat hanging and three pairs of boots, two of them of the same size, on the floor.

The next door led into a kitchen that was in a state similar to that of the entrance hall. There was a broken table in the centre of the room. Chairs had been thrown at the sides of the kitchen. A fireplace on the side with a second, more simple banner on it, and less ornate than the one in the first room. Several dishes were on the floor, shattered into pieces. A couple of metallic pots were also thrown around the floor. One of those pots even seemed to have partially melted. Harry couldn't figure how that could have happened.

The boy started to get worried. Something bad had happened in this house a long time ago. Maybe that was why it had been abandoned. However, he decided to press on. There was something in here that made him feel as if he had been there before, even if he did not remember at all.

Coming out of the kitchen, he ran to the next door, which was right below the stairway, and opened it. It seemed to lead into the basement. Harry decided to leave that part for later, when he got something to light the way.

The last door led into a dining room. A sturdy table, made of very dark wood, stood in the centre of the room. It seemed to have survived what a few of the chairs surrounding it had not, but it still had some burns on its surface. The wall opposite the door had a drawing, similar to a tree, and a red mark covered the lower part of it. It was pretty obvious that whatever had happened at this house was very serious.

Suddenly, Harry felt a strong need to go upstairs. He didn't know why, but he really seemed to need to know what was upstairs. He carefully made his way up the staircase, testing each wooden step to make sure it would hold his weight. All the steps were sturdy and he found himself, a few minutes later, at the top of the staircase. When he looked up from his feet at his surroundings, his eyes widened in recognition.

He had been here before. He had felt as if he recognised the rooms before, but now he was certain he had been here before. Sounds and images flashed through his mind quickly, making it impossible to focus on a single one of them. Attempting to push them all away, Harry advanced towards the first door to his right and opened it.

This room had been a nursery, from what Harry could tell. It was in a worse shape than the front room and the kitchen had been. There were several scorch marks on one wall, a broken cradle near the window and more brownish red spots on the floor. Harry felt his body chill: the spots were blood. If he was scared before, he felt even worse now. He started to turn, determined to leave this place, wherever he was. However, the shock of finding the blood in the nursery broke his attention, and the images once more flashed through his mind. Though, this time one memory stuck into his mind. One memory that happened in this same room...

He was sitting in his cot when a scream was heard. A red-haired woman had entered the room and had pointed a stick at him, saying something under her breath. A small white light crossed the room and hit him, and then the woman turned her back to him. He couldn't see what was happening, but he could hear the woman say something in a strange language. Suddenly, the woman was hit by a green light and fell to the floor, near the cot. He could see the woman's emerald eyes going lifeless as they looked at him. He could feel his eyes going blurry, when a pale man, that nonetheless reeked of darkness, stepped over the woman as he made a hideous sound that must have been laughter for him. The man pointed a stick at him, spoke two words and another jet of green light erupted from the stick. As it neared him, he felt as if something was being wrapped around him, something soft and warm, which tinted the air with a golden hue. He felt the green light strike him on his forehead, and then fly towards the pale man, hitting him in the chest. There was an explosion, and then everything was black.

As the memory ended, harry felt an unbearable burning sensation in his scar and collapsed to the floor, as his body jerked uncontrollably in pain. However, as soon as it came, it went away, and his body relaxed.

He moved his hand up to rub his forehead, brushing the lightning bolt scar that was there, and that had been there for all his life, as far as he could remember. Suddenly, the memory was clearer to him, as soon as he realized that he had seen something hitting his forehead.

The memory he had seen was his. He had seen how his mother died, and how he had got the scar.


Harry Potter lay on the floor, unable to move. The revelation that had leaped at him a few minutes before, that his mother had died not in a car accident but had been killed by a horrible man that had later tried to kill him made him temporarily unable to think. Finally, his thoughts began to pierce the grey fog that had crept over his mind and he began to focus.

Unconsciously, Harry pressed his hand back to his forehead. The scar his aunt and uncle had stated was the product of the car accident that had killed his parents had taken a whole new meaning. It was clear that he had been lied to by his relatives. The exact reason why the scar had come into being, as well as what those lights were, were still a mystery to him, but he knew that he might be able to find it all in here.

One burning question was how had his mother died. He was pretty sure that she had died, because the look in her eyes had been unmistakeable. He certainly knew that light couldn't kill someone at all – well, those lasers some bad guys used in comics might be similar to light – but it was possible that what he had seen was not a normal light. After all, that same green light had left the scar on his forehead and, when it hit the pale man, everything had exploded

Finally, there was one last thing: what was what he had felt just before the green light hit him? That golden thing had felt as if his mother were wrapping a towel around him after giving him a bath, but it had also been as if something else, something powerful and mysterious, had been the one wrapping the golden 'towel' around him to protect him from the green light.

Harry was very close to the truth with respect to that, though he didn't know it at the time.

Once he was able to recover from the shock of seeing his mother die, Harry slowly drew himself up from the floor. He felt a bit dizzy, but he was able to keep from falling. It was time for answers, and Harry knew that they would be found somewhere in this house.

Harry exited his old room and headed towards the next door. Opening it, a huge library was revealed. It seemed hundreds, thousands of books were stacked on the shelves around the room, with more being scattered around the central table.

One good aspect of not having many friends was that one found other ways to entertain themselves. Harry had taken to reading, and while he wasn't all that great still, it had given him some minor comfort over the last few years. Harry hadn't really thought of it as a 'good' thing, however, until this moment.

As he neared the table, Harry spotted some notes on it and went over to look. The answers to the mysteries that were plaguing him had to be found in those notes. Harry could almost feel the truth tugging on his mind to read. Without hesitation, he picked up the first sheaf of papers he saw and began looking over it.


I have just managed to put the last piece of enchantment I needed. That book on ancient magic Albus loaned me has helped tremendously. I certainly wouldn't have been able to do everything without it. I just hope it will be enough to help my little Harry. James tells me that it probably won't be required, but he understands the risks we are under, and he has helped me put everything up.

It will be tomorrow night when I finally cast the charm. Albus' book says that the charm can only be cast on All Hallows Eve, when the world of the living and the world of the dead are nearest. I really hope that our ancestors will help protect Harry if the time comes. I was very lucky in that I discovered this charm ahead of time, otherwise we would have been forced to wait other year to put the proper protections on Harry, and I don't want to push it back.

Albus assured us that with Sirius as the Keeper for the Fidelius we are hiding under we shouldn't fear much for our safety, but we haven't told Albus that we changed Keepers. I'm not so sure about our safety since the change was done. I know Peter is a good friend of ours, and that Sirius will do his best to protect him, but any bad move could leave Peter in the hands of Voldemort... and I doubt Peter would be able to hold out under his torture.

I just don't understand why Remus would betray us. He has been against Voldemort and the werewolves he controls from the first moment he joined the Order. The leader of Voldemort's werewolves' pack is the same bastard that bit him, for Merlin's sake! But Sirius says that he has been doing some weird things lately, and that he doesn't know where he is going. I admit that, when Dumbledore first spoke about Voldemort having a spy in the Order, I thought it might be Sirius, but soon I realized that Sirius would never betray us, and he was the one that got James to switch to Peter, so he can't be the spy.

Perhaps I should tell James that it might be better if we switch back to Sirius soon. I've got a feeling that maybe it would work all better if we went with the original plan.

The note ended right there, which left Harry even more confused than before. However, he was able to piece together a few things. James was his father's name, and the woman that had been writing this notes had a son called Harry. These notes... these notes were his mother's. Harry closed his eyes, and felt like hugging the paper close to him, but only held it lightly in his hands. It was the first thing he had ever got that had been his parents'.

Though, now the notes brought more questions as well. Who was his mother talking about? Who were Albus, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Dumbledore? Those names were certainly strange. He knew Sirius was a star in the sky, that Remus was one of the founders of Rome and Peter was a somewhat common name. Albus and Dumbledore were really strange names, though. And what was this talk about enchantments, ancient magic and charms? What was the Fidelius, and why did it require a Secret Keeper? Harry carefully placed the paper back on the table and moved onto the book it was laying next to. Perhaps it was the book mentioned in his mothers writing.

Ancient Magic by Morgana Le Fey was the title on the front of the book. Harry scrunched his eyebrows deep into a frown. 'Magic?' he asked himself. He still remembered when his uncle had locked him up in the cupboard under the stairs when he caught him watching a TV show about magic. Maybe that was what Vernon had referred to when he talked about his 'freakishness'.

As he opened the book, he couldn't help but feel as if his skin tingled with the feeling of a slight electric shock. This book would be the first book about magic he had ever read. Harry opened the cover and found some handwriting inside.

For Lily Potter,

I hope that the pages of this book and the charms that are contained in them allow you to find protection for your family until Harry becomes ready to fulfil his destiny. Good luck!


Albus Dumbledore

He was right. It had been his mother's writing what he had found in the note before, but what did this mean? Harry's destiny? What was it talking about? Well, at least he had managed to solve one mystery: Albus and Dumbledore was the same person. Maybe he would be able to contact this man and get some answer from him about his parents and what had happened to them. As he thought over the name, his mind conjured a picture of a man with a long beard wearing a strange sort of dress while staring at a sock drawer, as if wondering how he would be able to get more of them. Harry giggled at the silly picture.

Harry flipped a couple pages and began to read from the first chapter.

Magic has a long history, dating back thousands of years.

'Hmmm, it is magic alright,' he thought. For some reason, things like pulling a rabbit out of a hat – or rather, the false bottom of the hat – or making a tiger appear inside a cage weren't as impressive as they should have been. In fact, he felt that deep inside himself was the ability to make them appear out of thin air! But that was impossible, wasn't it? Harry continued reading.

When the first ancients began to discover the possibilities that magic held, the world prospered under amazing progress. The mysteries they uncovered about the universe we live in rival the knowledge of even today. But just as magic can be used for good, magic can be used for evil. Evil corrupted the hearts of men who sought power above all else, and that knowledge was lost. It is said that in those days, men did not need wands or staffs to practice the magical arts; their will and their hands were all that was needed.

Today, a very different situation is upon us. There exists only one that can manipulate the magic without a wand: my dear husband Merlin. What has caused this to come to pass? This is the question this book will attempt to unravel. I will begin with what little we know about the ancients views on willpower and projection, then move on to the importance of blood and the protections and possibilities it can empower.

Harry had to stop reading. Was it true? Obviously the woman that wrote this book was saying that magic was real. There were a few words that Harry didn't understand, and he tried to guess their meaning, but it definitely seemed that the over-all gist of it was the magic was real. And his mother had been reading the book! If she believed in it, then Harry could also believe in it. If he had been a couple years older, perhaps the story would be different, but there was nothing more that he wanted that to be close to his parents in some minor way at least.

Harry turned a few more pages to see... a moving picture! He now knew, beyond any doubt, that magic had to be real. How else could he see a hand holding a long stick making a circular motion? Harry looked underneath the picture to read the caption.

The levitation spell is a common first spell taught to all children. The needed movements are simple as well as the incantation of "Wingardium Leviosa". Children have no problem pointing their wand at something finally and making it float a few feet in the air, making it the perfect charm for building confidence.

Harry's eyes grew wide. The book was telling him how to do it – how to do magic! Harry looked around the room, hoping to find a stick he could use to test it out right away, but he didn't see any. Feeling a bit dejected, he looked out of the window, and realised that maybe there could be some sticks in the garden, given that they were made of wood. He ran outside of the room, and then through the front entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tree growing up there.

'Of course!' he thought, his previous feelings abandoned. 'I'd bet that there will be sticks over there, and those sticks would be fresher, since they just came out of the tree.'

Harry went towards the young tree, and soon saw that the tree was surrounded by several sticks lying on the ground. He looked around and soon found one stick that seemed to have fallen far more recently than the others, so he picked it up. It was eighteen inches long, more or less, which was way too long for Harry, so he decided to break it down to a more manageable size, and maybe he could use the other part as a spare stick. He studied the stick carefully, trying to find a point where it could break in half. It was light grey, a colour that came from the bark of the tree, which the stick still had attached, and it was bent at some point in the middle, perhaps a bit away from the centre of the stick. Harry readied himself and broke the stick over his knee on that point.

That left him with two straight sticks, the longest being hardly a couple inches longer than the other one. He felt more comfortable with the longest one, but nonetheless both sticks felt quite good in his hands. The stick in the picture he had seen before was more polished, but Harry thought it wouldn't matter at all, so he felt ready to do his first bit of magic.

Harry ran back upstairs to review the picture. He studied it intensely for a few seconds, and then he prepared himself. He couldn't help but being a bit nervous: after all, his mother must have started also from this charm, since the book said it was a very easy one. He quickly located another book placed on the table, right opposite to the book his mother had been reading. Harry concentrated, his mind fixing the movements and the incantation, and then he performed the first and said the second while pointing his stick at the book.

At first, nothing happened. Harry unconsciously put more effort in trying to force the book to move, an effort his magic soon answered to. Had Harry looked at the stick instead of the book, he would have seen how the stick had been shining for a few seconds before going back to normal.

Then, slowly, the book started to rise, leaving a few inches of emptiness between it and the table. Harry's eyes widened: he was doing magic! He had certainly not expected such quick results, but since this was a very easy charm, he should have expected it. As his excitement grew, his concentration wavered, and soon the book fell back to the table with a hollow THUD! Despite this small failure, Harry couldn't help but grin. This was his first piece of magic, and he had managed it at the first time. But he guessed that, if he wanted to be as good as his mum surely was, he would have to train, so he concentrated again and did the same charm. Once more, before he could see it, the stick shone again, this time for less time than before.

However, there was a very important thing Harry didn't know about magic, and about sticks, or more correctly wands. It was the fact that a wand was supposed to be created by a wandcrafter, a man specialized in making them, and that they had to hold a magical core so that a wizard or witch could use it to channel his innate magic easier. Harry had, literally, performed wandless magic, for no other reason save for the fact that he had no knowledge at all about the magical world.

That was why his 'wand' would stay with him for many years...


A tall man with dark red hair was sitting down in his office, when he heard a muted explosion. For a second, he wondered what his twin sons had managed to explode this time, so used he was to hearing it at home, when he realised that he wasn't at home, but at work, and that the small explosion had been followed by several people shouting everywhere. He stood up and ran out of his office.

The Department of Accidental Magic Reversal was in pure panic. There were papers flying through the air, a bit of smoke was coming from one of the sensors in the wall and everyone was shouting and running around: no one was in control of himself or herself. The man tried to make himself heard to his work companions, but to no avail, until he found a chair, stood up on it and whistled very loudly. This, finally, managed to make everyone settle down in their places.

"Thank you," the man said, coming down to the floor again. "Now, will someone please explain what is going on, and why did our Level Sensor explode?"

"Mr Weasley, the sensors have been picking up large outbursts of magic for the last thirty minutes. Those outbursts were so big that the Level Sensor couldn't measure it all, and it seems it broke down. It'll take us several days to repair them again."

"I see," the red-haired man – Mr Weasley – said. "Did the other sensors manage to get anything about the source? Location, identity..."

"I fear not much, sir. The Identity Sensor, as soon as it tells us one thing, it reverses and says something different. The only thing that has been consistent has been that the source is a male person, the age constantly changes. At the start it said the source was six years old, then that it was forty-two, after that it said that he was sixty-one and later that it was nearly a hundred years old. As for the Locator Sensor, it has gone completely haywire, it doesn't seem to be able to fix the position of the wizard that is doing all of this," the person nearest to Mr Weasley said. There were several mutterings among those who had been in the department for some time.

"Sir, I've been in this department for fifteen years now. Something like this, of this magnitude, has only happened once before since I started working here," another voice spoke up.

"When was that?" Mr. Weasley asked, slightly worried. He had been steadily working his way up through the ranks, only achieving a position at this department four years ago. If something like this had happened before, he had to make sure that he had all the information.

"The night the Potters were killed and Y-Y-You-Know-Who was defeated." There was a collective gasp from the crowd as the words sunk in. Had the Dark Lord returned? It was a very bad prospective, if it had really happened. Mr Weasley immediately took charge, hoping that it wasn't what the man had said. However, he believed it was better to err on the side of caution.

"I see. Ok, Stevens, Shelly, Brooks, and Lidge, the four of you are to work on the Locator, attempt to get a more precise physical location, we need to know where we have to go if it is needed. Everybody else, from now on this is getting maximum priority. If the Dark Lord is back, we can't dawdle much on magical children turning someone's hair blue. Those that know how to create Portkeys, you have permission to make as many as required to achieve this task, make at least one that goes to Godric's Hollow if we find ourselves in need of going there. Matthews, go to the archives and seek the readings of the time you said this happened before, we are need to make a comparison. Someone else must stay on alert and call the DMLE just in case this is the worst scenario. I'll go alert Minister Fudge right away."

"Yes, sir," one of the witches replied, and everyone went to work, while Mr Weasley went out of the Department and took the lift, heading for the Minister's office.

Upon arriving there, he informed the secretary that he had very critical information that the Minister required to know immediately. The secretary eyed him curiously, but nonetheless motioned for him to enter the office, since the Minister was not in a meeting right now. Mr Weasley did so, and found Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister for Magic, reading the Daily Prophet – the main newspaper of Magical Britain – from behind his desk.

"Minister?" Mr Weasley said. The Minister lay down the newspaper and acknowledged his presence. "I have grave news that need to be shared with you right now.

"What news coming from the Department of Accidental Magic could possibly be so grave that you need to share them with me right now, Arthur?" Fudge said, a little condescendingly. Fudge had never liked Arthur Weasley on a personal level. He knew he was a hard and honest worker, but from his point of view Arthur lacked the proper pride a wizard should have. However, the Weasley family was a well known and well connected family, thanks to the great effort they had put into fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and thus he was not a man to be taken lightly.

"Just half an hour ago, our sensors have been receiving repeated readings of large outbursts of magic. They have been so great that the sensor that detects the level of power put in those outbursts has broken down, and our other sensors have been unable to ascertain much information about the person. The only thing we have been able to find for sure is that the person is a male, whose age remains undetermined, unfortunately," Arthur explained, crisply, due to the tone Fudge was taking towards him.

"And why, exactly, is this so important? I'm sure that you will be able to find the source soon and determine the reason," Fudge replied, eyeing Arthur warily.

"I'm sure you are aware, Minister, of the accuracy of the Sensors we use at the Department," Arthur said. "They are usually highly accurate, so such an anomaly like this should give us enough reason for concern. This should be coupled with the fact that, according to the registries, the last time something like this happened was Halloween, 1981."

"The night You-Know-Who was defeated?" Fudge asked, receiving a nod as an answer. "Preposterous! Are you suggesting that You-Know-Who has returned?"

"No sir, not at all. However, you have to remember that You-Know-Who's body was never found, and that all of this is a highly suspicious matter. That is why I have directed my entire department to discover the reasons behind this situation as quickly as possible, and why we are preparing to alert the Department of Magical Law Enforcement should we need their help."

"You will do no such thing!" Fudge exclaimed. "Can you imagine the public reaction when they hear about this? Are you trying to start a panic? You shall pull your people back at once! This fiasco is obviously the result of equipment failure." Arthur stared back, wide-eyed. How could this man be so stupid as to ignore this potential crisis? Any other man would have, at least, tried to investigate some more before ordering everything to stop. He would have to look for help somewhere else, on someone that could do something else about it – and he knew just the place where he could find that help.

"Very well, Minister" Mr. Weasley said curtly before turning towards the door.

"Not so fast, Arthur. We will have to cover this fiasco in some way. We can't allow the public to know that we nearly put them in panic for such a minimal reason. From this point on, you are to work as the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. You will be working there with Perkins, and your last measure as Head of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department is to rescind your former orders. Is that understood?" Fudge asked menacingly, as if daring the man to argue with him. To his surprise, there was what looked to be glee in Mr. Weasley's eyes as the man gave a quick nod and left.

Arthur thought about going back to his office to begin the move and pull everyone back, but when he ran into Lidge, who seemed to have been looking for him, he decided against it. He'd rather find the extra help as soon as possible, and his things would be magically moved to his new office in just a few minutes. Arthur quickly explained to Lidge what had happened in the Minister's office, and that he was going out for a walk. Lidge commiserated with Arthur's situation and his opinion about the Minister, and promised to take care of everything at the office for him. Arthur was glad that the man would do it: even if Lidge had been gunning for the Head of Department position for quite some time, both of them respected each other and liked to work together. Lidge wished him luck in his new position, and left to stop the investigation.

Taking the lift downstairs, Arthur soon found himself in the Atrium at the Ministry. After a look at the Fountain of Magical Brothers, and a shake of his head at the idiocy it represented, Arthur disappeared from the Atrium with a POP! and soon appeared several hundreds of miles away, at the only entirely magical town of Britain, Hogsmeade. However, what he was looking for wasn't in the town, and it was quickly left behind as Arthur headed towards his final destination: Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.

A/N2: If you are re-reading this chapter, you might have noticed some differences between the old and the new story. Those are due to Teufel1987, who has agreed to beta read this story. So, please, if you find him, thank him.

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