Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 13: I am Merlin
The thick liquid entered his body, and Harry immediately felt that something was changing in his mind.
'Remember.' The voice resounded again just as it had done a hundred times before.
But now it was much louder and clearer… now he could finally make it out.
"Merlin," Harry muttered the name under his breath. And as he said it, something awoke in him.
The countless memories he had accumulated from his dreams began to mix with many other ones.
Memories from a distant childhood in a small village, meeting with the man who became his mentor in magic, and the many years he spent traveling over the British Isles, helping people and improving his craft, until he finally arrived at Camelot, where he met the young Arthur, who would one day become the King.
A swirl of magical energy formed around him.
Two complete sets of memories were now inside the same person.
Two consciousnesses became one and the same.
Two different people, one old and one young, were now one.
"I remember," Harry said softly as he looked down on himself.
He moved his hand slightly, and the particles of energy obeyed his command, moving at his will.
It had all become clear to him now. The dreams were never truly dreams, and were just the way his young body and mind were handling events from a previous life that were still present in his memories.
In an attempt to protect itself, Harry's mind had pushed all those old memories into some corner of his subconscious, and they were slowly leaking in the form of dreams.
"I am…" He tapped on the wooden floor with his hand, and this one began to morph into a long spike before it became a wooden staff that he proceeded to grab.
"Merlin!"
Just as he was about to use the staff to stand up, something else began to emerge. Images took shape in his mind.
"What is this… more memories?" These were not from his past self, but from this life, and they appeared to be very recent.
Harry was in some sort of hospital bed, and an old man looked at him with a kind smile on his face.
'Greetings, Mister Potter. My name is Albus Dumbledore.'
'It appears that my potion has also recovered some memories that had been locked away.' He realized.
The struggle he had with his uncle Vernon, where the man tried to kill him, and Harry was forced to use a burst of magic to defend himself.
His stay at Saint Mungo's and his conversation with this old wizard called Dumbledore.
As well as what he did at the end.
"Obliviate… he tried to erase my memories." Harry felt furious about this wizard's actions.
Tampering with a child's mind was a big taboo in his view.
But that short conversation had shed some light on his current situation.
"Sorcerers still exist in this world… that's good." However, this greatly contradicted his memories of Harry Potter and what he had learned from his modern society, where no one seemed to believe that magic was real.
"Are they all hiding for some reason?" He wondered if that was the reason for this dilemma.
A very long time had passed, and the world had changed greatly since his time.
"Let's see… when I died, it was the year of our Lord, 451. If we are still using the same calendar, then… 1540 years have passed." He gasped.
This was a tremendous amount of time. This would now be a completely different place from the one he once knew.
At least his memories of Harry Potter would be of great help. Even though that knowledge was greatly limited by his short life and the few occasions he had to leave the house.
"That is going to change now." He stood up, using his staff to assist him.
It was just a piece of wood with no magical abilities, but he had grown accustomed to having one in his hand, so he felt kinda naked without it.
"Still… even without a magical focus, I should be able to do a few simple things." He waved his hand around, and more particles of magic manifested around him.
"I still have my powers and my memories. The tools can wait."
His eyes moved to the small mechanical clock on his table. It was getting late, and his 'family' would no doubt be returning soon.
Harry had no desire to interact with those people or to stay in this house filled with bad memories.
His body was still young, but his mind was mature. Even if he somehow wanted to, it would be impossible for him to continue living here in the same way that young Harry Potter had done until now.
"Besides…" He glanced around his room. The awakening of his memories appeared to have come accompanied by a sudden release of magic, and much of the room had suffered a significant amount of damage.
Not to mention the broken mason jar on the floor and the missing wooden tiles he had used to create his new staff.
"I definitely don't want to wait and see Uncle Vernon's reaction to this mess," Harry muttered.
Nothing good would come out of confronting those disgusting people right now.
"Instead, I should go out and try to find where the magic users are now hiding." London was a massive city, so there were likely a few in here. Perhaps even an entire community.
With a clear immediate goal in mind, Harry gathered some of the few things he had: a bag with a change of clothes, a little bit of money he had left, and a couple of cans of food he managed to steal from the kitchen the other day.
Once he was ready, he walked out of the Dursleys' house and went away into the night, with no intention of ever coming back here.
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