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Harry Potter and the Academy of the Mages
By Myk

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:All, All
Genres: Action/Adventure
Warnings: Violence
Rating: PG
Reviews: 7
Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2005 ***

Harry Potter has just finished his 5th year at Hogwarts. He does not want to return for his final 2 years. Can he find a way out? What does a certain young red head have to do with it?
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Harry Potter and the Academy of the Mages

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except maybe the plot. All of the characters and continuing plot lines from previous Harry Potter books belong to J.K.Rowling, I’m just having a little fun with them for a while.

Thanks: Much kudos to my beta, grey grim, for her hard work in making this chapter happen. Check out her stuff on fanfiction.net.

Chapter 1 - The Letter

The sun was setting over the small Surrey town of Little Whinging. Birds were singing their songs in the trees, telling everyone around that it was the end of another beautiful day. A slight breeze rustled in the tree tops and a fifteen year old boy sat in a baggy t-shirt and shorts watching contemplatively as the last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the row of terraced houses to the west. It would return in the morning, unlike so many things in the boy’s life, the sun was a constant.

Harry Potter felt tears prickling in his eyes as the darkness enveloped him. He had lost so much for one so young. His parents were murdered when he was just a year old. His Godfather had been murdered just one month previously. People were dying all around them and he alone could stop it for Harry was not an ordinary fifteen year old boy, he was not just a fifteen year old boy who had suffered as those close to him had perished. Harry was a wizard, a wizard born into a role that would shape the future of his kind and the rest of the world.

This role had been at the forefront of Harry’s mind ever since he had been told of it on the night of his Godfather’s death. The prophecy made before his birth. His destiny; to become a murderer or to be murdered himself. Harry wasn’t sure which was worse but he knew which path he must take for if he was to die, the hope of the wizarding world would die with him. A world that was in turmoil because their worst fears had been realised.

Voldemort had returned.

As these thoughts churned in Harry’s head like a broken record, all he could do was sit and wait. For any other boy in his position a summer holiday would be the perfect time to come to terms with what he had to do and to focus on living his life but Harry had another problem in his already turbulent life. His only living relatives, Vernon and Petunia Dursley and their massive son, Dudley.

Petunia Dursley was the sister of his deceased mother. Petunia, along with her husband and son, had, in her attempt to rid him of any happiness or power, made it her goal in life to make Harry as submissively miserable as possible ever since he had been left on their doorstep as a one year old boy. Even knowing the reason for him having to live with them did not make it any easier. The blood bond he shared with his Aunt may have protected him from Voldemort and his followers but the resentment that the Dursleys held for him had still left its own scars, both mentally and physically.

Harry was lifted from his contemplation by a loud clatter and a cheer. Dudley and his gang had just succeeded in breaking the one remaining swing in the play area of the park that Harry was sat in. Sighing, Harry stood up from the bench under the tree in the middle of the grassy area and started walking slowly back to the Dursleys’ house, knowing that if he was back after Dudley, there would be trouble.

Entering number four Privet Drive through the back door (the Dursleys didn’t trust him with a key to the front door) Harry walked quietly though the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Once in, he shut the door and flopped down on his bed. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure life in Little Whinging. He had been back for two agonising weeks now and was grateful for the minimal improvement he had see in the Dursleys. Harry sadly acknowledged that this was simply because of the warnings given to them by various members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group dedicated to the fight against Voldemort, at King’s Cross Station when he had returned from Hogwarts at the end of the previous term.Despite the Dursleys' increased civility, he still felt alone and misplaced in Privet Drive and looked forward to the day that Professor Dumbledore decided to let him leave to stay with his friends, the Weasleys, at the Burrow.

Professor Dumbledore was another problem for Harry. He had been one of the individuals Harry would have trusted with his life until the night of the attack at the Ministry of Magic, the night Sirius Black, Harry’s Godfather, had died. After the attack, Dumbledore had revealed a whole host of information that he had been witholding from Harry. Information that may have prevented him going to the Ministry of Magic in the first place. Preventing the Death Eater attack. Preventing Sirius’ death. Harry was no longer sure if he wanted to return to Hogwarts where he would have no choice but to live with the Headmaster, Dumbledore, who was often to be seen roaming the corridors and conversing with students.

Harry wondered, though, whether he would leave Hogwarts if he was offered an alternative. But, of course, he would have to be offered an alternative. He was lying silently on his bed when a rustle of his curtains, the swoop of wings and the soft thump of a letter onto his bed interupted his thoughts.

Slowly Harry sat up and looked at the owl, now taking a drink from the water bowl in the cage of his own owl, Hedwig. He didn’t recognise the owl. Looking down at the letter he saw his name in purple letters in the centre of the envelope and in the top right hand corner a small emblem, bearing the letters AM. Curious, Harry opened the letter and read,

The Academy of the Mages

Master of Mages:
Perran Ambrose

Dear Mr Potter,

We are delighted to offer you a place at the Academy of the Mages in London, England. If you accept our offer you will be taught the advanced magical disciplines of the mages. Be prepared for a challenging two years of studying, our final exams are much more taxing than NEWTs. You may find our ways difficult to grasp at first but, given time, we feel that you have a very high chance of excelling.

Please consider our offer carefully.

Yours truly,

Professor Perran Ambrose, Master of Mages.


Harry stared at the letter, not quite believing his eyes. This was the answer he had been looking for, the way to re-invent himself. He would miss his friends but he could still see them at Christmas and during the summer. They would understand that this was important for him.

Then a sense of foreboding came across him. What if this was just another trap? Harry lay back down onto his bed, thinking. The only way to make sure for certain was to ask someone who may have heard of this mysterious “Academy of the Mages” but who might know? He could only think of one person but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask Professor Dumbledore about it. What else could he do?

With a sigh, Harry got up from his bed and walked over to his desk. Taking a piece of parchment and a quill he started writing,

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I’m not sure how to say this, so I suppose I should just say it plainly. I have been asked to join the Academy of the Mages. I am writing to you to ask for information about this academy. Does it really exist or is it some sort of trick? What does studying there involve?

I know you may still be angry with me after my behaviour at the end of last term and may not want to answer. I am really sorry for yelling at you and destroying your possessions. I wish to learn more about this Academy of the Mages because from what the letter said, it could be just what I have been looking for. I need to become more powerful if I am ever to defeat Voldemort and I’m not sure if I could learn all I need to at Hogwarts. I know you mean well in everything you do but I think that because you have gotten so close to me, you haven’t let me learn all I need to and even if you want to do so in future, I don’t think you will be able to.

I’m sorry Professor.

Harry Potter.


Calling Hedwig to him, Harry rolled up the parchment and attached it to her leg.

“Please take this to Professor Dumbledore.” He said to her softly. She hooted in reply and flew off into the night.

Exhausted and overwhelmed by the events of the evening, Harry finally curled up in his bed and welcomed what he feared would be a tormented sleep.
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