Harry Dursley Translated with ChatGPT

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Summary:
Harry Potter fanfiction written in 2022
And if after a few years the Dursleys had come to love Harry and treat him as their own son, while continuing to consider magic as a defect. How to reconcile his nature with the love of his adoptive parents? Very simple, just reject magic. But will the wizards let him do it?
Originally, I wanted it to be a succession of very short chapters based on the model of:Une adolescence à St Brutus
But quickly, I abandoned this idea and made a more classic fanfic. There are still a few very short chapters (especially in volume 1) thattestify tothis original ambition.
Voldemort and the Deathly Hallows (visit to Grindelwald)
Ha! There's nothing! Bombarda! Incendio!
Voldemort shouted in anger before watching the precious books of the Malfoy library go up in smoke. Most were originals dating back several centuries and worth thousands of galleons each. Some were even unique copies. In addition to representing a colossal financial loss, his fit of anger had just erased entire sections of wizarding heritage forever. But for Voldemort, if they did not contain the knowledge he needed, it did not matter.
With a careless wave of the Elder Wand, he stopped the fire and repaired the luxurious solid oak shelves. The power of the spells he had just cast convinced him once again that these three objects were the key to regaining the power that was once his.
He had begun to regularly practice various dark rituals to increase the size of his magical core. But for them to significantly enhance his host's powers, he would need to perform them on the day of Samhain or Walpurgis Night. He couldn't wait that long. Dumbledore wouldn't wait that long. He suspected it wouldn't be difficult to convince that sentimental old man to limit hostilities to a few ridiculous political games. But at some point, even he would understand that it wasn't normal for him to remain holed up in his hideout.
Not to mention that he felt his Death Eaters were discontented and beginning to ask questions. Oh! Those cowards were no more discontented than Dumbledore about having an additional respite. On the other hand, he had once again experienced losses of control (as during the first meeting of the Death Eaters).
When it came to his Death Eaters, his already great anger towards those incompetents took on disproportionate proportions. He had regularly lost control to the point of making totally incoherent reproaches to them. At first, he thought it was the aftermath of his resurrection. Then, seeing that the effects persisted, he had to resign himself to looking for another cause.
For a time, he had worriedly considered that it might be due to the destruction of some of his horcruxes by Potter and Dumbledore. However, he had to face the facts. It was still all Potter's fault. Now that the roles were reversed, it was his emotions that were contaminating his own. And when they resonated, they amplified. And Voldemort did not need his hatred amplified.
On several occasions, he had nearly killed his most incompetent Death Eaters. This had to stop quickly. In addition to undermining their loyalty and confidence in their leader's mental health, he did not have enough troops to afford to waste them like that. But no matter the power and sophistication of the barriers he tried to erect between their two minds, the bond between their souls endured. Voldemort felt tainted that such an insignificant being was attacking what he held most intimate. By concentrating, he could feel him living inside him like some kind of parasite.
To make matters worse, he had quickly had to give up on breaking that damn kid. Of course, his occlumency barriers had eventually shattered under his assaults. Voldemort had then been able to admire the full extent and beauty of the occlumency protections created by Snape. To celebrate his victory, he had conscientiously tortured Snape for an entire day through themark, so that he would have a taste of what he would make him endure when he got his hands on him.
However, his joy had been short-lived. When he had wanted to explore all his memories in detail and destroy his soul, an intense pain had seized him. He regularly tried again (if only to have the joy of hearing the source of all his misfortunes scream with him), but he had to face the facts. That kid was an irretrievably sappy mess. Most of his memories were stuck in a disgusting marshmallow of love, which he could not approach. If he insisted, he risked the integrity of his soul. Or rather, what was left of it.
Maybe he should create new horcruxes? Besides, he could kill two birds with one stone. Upon learning that that cursed Dumbledore had arrived in time to save the kid's adoptive parents, he had screamed with rage, then to calm himself, he had tortured Macnair for a long time.Far too long, his wounds clearly caused by dark magic had not gone unnoticed by his colleagues at the ministry. But once again, he had not been able to control himself. In short, if he used them to recreate the horcruxes destroyed by Potter and Dumbledore, in addition to restoring his invincibility, he might be able to break the boy's spirit and regain full control of himself.
But it was risky. He had already split his soul so many times. More than anyone before him. Anyway, he still had many horcruxes left. The diary and the cup were well protected, and Dumbledore could not guess that he had created so many horcruxes. That senile old man was probably incapable of imagining that one could split their soul into more than three pieces (not to mention that it was an extremely powerful number and very much linked to dark magic). He must believe that the locket and the ring were his only horcruxes. As a precaution, he would still need to move the diadem as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his only Death Eater with access to Hogwarts had decided to betray him. He cursed Snape once again, sending him a jolt of pain.
This last gesture calms him enough to resume his research. Nevertheless, he abandoned the Malfoy library and strode towards his suite. He was now convinced that none of these books contained anything about the frightening magic that engulfed him when he brought the three objects together. The wand and the ring never left him now. However, he generally kept the cloak far from him, not wanting to risk reproducing the phenomenon until he knew more. Yet after two weeks of research, all he had been able to establish with certainty was that no dark magic resembled in the slightest what he had felt. In other words, he had learned nothing. How was it that such powerful objects were not mentioned in any of the numerous dark magic books in the vast Malfoy library? He had barely found descriptions resembling the Elder Wand, but Voldemort was too used to the exaggerated tales of purebloods about the power of their wands to pay attention.
Voldemort began to doubt what he had felt. Maybe he had simply hallucinated the phenomenon because of the backlash from his resurrection? Or maybe it was due to a strange magical reaction caused by the mixing of his magic with that of his host's core? Perhaps he had been surprised by the extent of his own power. No! The phenomenon had been brief, but enough for Voldemort to be sure: the objects were the source of immense power.
Once he arrived in his suite, he moved towards what seemed to be an ordinary wall and traced a complex rune on it with his own blood before beginning an extremely complicated incantation. The hiding place containing the cloak was revealed.
With reluctance, he removed the ring in order to take the cloak and examine it closely. It was the only object he hadn't examined carefully. But it seemed just as ordinary as the ring. There had to be something. It couldn't just be an ordinary invisibility cloak. After a while, he finally spotted a strange symbol embroidered in a corner of the cloak. A symbol he was sure he had seen before, but where. With a spell, he copied onto a paper the triangle containing a circle, crossed by a line. He reexamined the wand and the ring and eventually found the symbol on them as well. It was so finely engraved that he had never noticed it, but it was indeed present. The relic of his ancestors was indeed linked to the cloak. According to Peter, the cloak was a relic passed down for generations in the Potter family. Which was normally impossible given that it was impossible (even for him) to maintain a disillusionment charm on an object for more than a few years. Who were the Potters really?
He put away the cloak and headed back to the library. Now, he had a lead. He was going to learn everything he could about the Potter family.
oOoOoOoOo
So Karkaroff, you had the audacity to believe that you could escape me. Stated Voldemort in a dangerous voice.
My master, I beg you. I am your faithful servant. Pleaded Igor Karkaroff, chained in the middle of the throne room, on his knees.
The sorcerer had been completely surprised by the sudden resurrection of his master. He had therefore had to improvise his escape and had done a very poor job of covering his tracks. If he had been able to anticipate his return and prepare accordingly, there is no doubt that the hunt would have lasted much longer.
ENDOLORIS! INCENDIO! Shouted Voldemort, burning half of his face, in front of the mocking gazes of his Death Eaters.
Many had almost ended up in prison because of his denunciations. Some even had a family member in prison because of him. Everyone was eagerly waiting for the master to unleash his fury. But Voldemort forced himself to calm down. He had little hope of success, but for the sake of conscience, he still asked:
My time is precious so don't waste it with your lies. Only one thing might convince me to spare your life. Do you know this symbol?
Then he traced in letters of fire in the air, the symbol found on the cloak. To be honest, he had practically no hope left. None of his Death Eaters had heard of this symbol and he had drawn a blank in his research. All he had learned was that a now-extinct pure-blood family named Peverell, to which the Gaunts and the Potters were blood-related, had briefly used it in the 13th century as a coat of arms. This confirmed Peter's words about the age of the cloak, but it didn't help him much further.
Thus he was greatly disappointed when Karkaroff exclaimed:
Yes, of course. Everyone knows this symbol.
Then you shouldn't have any trouble telling me its meaning, Voldemort asked in a tone that was meant to be detached, but from which a certain impatience could be detected.
Yes master. It is the symbol of Grindelwald.
Are you sure?
Certainly. Grindelwald himself traced it on a wall at Durmstrang when he was a student.
Show me.
Without waiting for Karkaroff's permission, he entered his mind and was able to see in his memories the stone wall where the famous mark, identical in every way to the one on the cloak and the ring, was located. But what disturbed Voldemort the most was the inscription written below the mark:
The last enemy that will be destroyed is death.
This inscription, written at a time when he was not yet born, seemed destined for him. He thought back with dread to that cursed prophecy. He did not like the idea of being the plaything of a force that surpassed him. Voldemort created his own destiny.
Lock him in the dungeons of the manor until I return. A few days without food should teach him the meaning of the word loyalty.
Without waiting, Voldemort rose from his throne and headed toward the gardens. Then, under the eyes of his Death Eaters stunned by the clemency of his decision, he flew away.
A stroke of luck that this levitation spell he had just developed required little magic, thought Voldemort. Thanks to the effects of the Elder Wand, he soon exceeded the speed of sound and took very little time to reach his destination: Durmstrang.
He wanted to see with his own eyes the symbol left by Grindelwald. And then, what better place to start his research on the dark wizard responsible for his teenage nightmares than Durmstrang? At the time, he had been too busy acclimating to wizarding society, searching for his parents, becoming a prodigy in magic, searching for the Chamber of Secrets, creating his first horcruxes... In short, he had been too busy to take an interest in international news.
The only thing he knew about the dark wizard was that he was responsible for the bombings that had almost killed him the summer he was 14. Voldemort still remembered the smell of ash that had filled his mouth when a bomb had destroyed the building across from the orphanage. The next day, he realized that the strange taste in his mouth was partly made up of what was left of their former neighbor, and he felt a certain excitement about it.
But during the bombings, he could not completely suppress his terror. It was the first and last time he lost control of himself. He still remembered that damn whiner Bryan who was slowing everyone down because he had forgotten his security blanket in his room, while the staff were desperately trying to force the disoriented and screaming crowd of orphans of all ages into the underground shelters.
In the morning, he could not prevent his magic from settingAccidentallyset the child's stuffed rabbit on fire.Stuffed animal that was arememberYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.that her mother had given her, just before she died of tuberculosis.Needless to say thatYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.The horrible kid had cried long and loud.Only the relief of the employees to finally be rid of this virus nest prevented Dumbledore from being informed of this incident (he knew that the old lemony man had arranged for Mrs. Cole to inform him of any misconduct on his part during his 'vacation').
He also vaguely remembered that the director of the orphanage had spoken to him about German submarines sinking supplies when she had deprived him of food once again, claiming that he only had a few.weeks to wait to be able to eat his fill again. But he hadn't believed a word of it. She hadn't heard that he returned to Hogwarts to punish him unjustly and whisper behind his back that he was possessed by the devil. He thought back nostalgically to that day, many years later, when he was finally able to teach her the difference between Tom Riddle and a real demon. Even today, her screams filled him with joy when he thought about it. He couldn't have found a better way to celebrate his return to England.
Then he angrily thought back to the long hours he had to spend begging in central London that summer, praying that no Muggle-born would pass by and recognize him. It would have been less humiliating (and more nourishing) to steal. But he had just gone through his growth spurt and was now too old to go unnoticed. At Hogwarts, he was pleased to finally be able to look down on his classmates, but here, it meant risking being arrested by the police and Dippet finding out.
What a scandal it would have raised among those snobs at Hogwarts if the prodigy child with such modest origins (as was often reminded to him) had stolen from one of those rich businessmen. Dumbledore would no doubt have taken the opportunity to demand his expulsion and deprive him of the right to use his magic (in his place, that's what he would have done, but he had always had trouble anticipating his actions). What hypocrisy. Most of these respectable businessmen had financed the NAZIS and now they were taking advantage of the war to get rich. And it was him that all these self-righteous people would have come to criticize for his methods of feeding himself?
Despite his young age, before going to Hogwarts, he had regularly attended meetings organized by union or communist activists (Voldemort no longer really knew what the difference was) who constantly roamed the streets of the working-class neighborhood where the orphanage was located. By comparing the chasm between the reality he discovered there and the principles taught by the women at the orphanage, he finally understood the reason for his problems. His problem was not that he was stupid or that he had no soul (as the director eventually screamed at him the day he resigned himself to teaching Stubbs' gang that there were limits not to be crossed with him). The problem was that these moral stories were just a hypocritical lie told by leaders to lull the weak. At first, he believed that the solutions to his misfortunes were to be found in Muggle politics. How naive he was at that time. But Voldemort would always be grateful to them for teaching him that good and evil do not exist and that there is only power.
He briefly wondered if there were still Muggles stupid enough to believe that the weak could unite to impose peace, justice, equality, and freedom on the strong. Probably yes. There is nothing more inexhaustible than human stupidity. Truly intelligent people do not bother with such considerations and simply use these ridiculous aspirations to climb to the top. A bit like him with those pureblood degenerates.
oOoOoOoOo
A few days later, Voldemort gazed from the air at the jet-black tower standing out clearly against the surrounding snow-covered peaks. Nurmengard was a sinister, desolate, and icy place. A perfect prison for his future opponents.
While he was there, he took care to study the architecture of the place. During the last war, he had been content to kill his opponents, but in this one, he might need to build his own prisons. He fully intended to have them guarded by Dementors, if only to have something to offer the soul eaters in exchange for their support. But he refused to rely solely on them and their wavering loyalty.
For the moment, this prison did not disappoint him. It was almost as hard to get in as to get out. With his former powers, it would have been a walk in the park, but with the weak réServeYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.From his host, he had to economize and make maximum use of the possibilities of the invisibility cloak and the Elder Wand to penetrate the prison. Exceptionally, he had donned the three Hallows. It was a risk. He still knew nothing about the magic that had been triggered during his resurrection. But he had no choice but to take it if he wanted to learn more.
After several exhausting hours, he finally reached the top of the fortress. He had to break many runes and disarm many traps, but he was finally able to force open the door to the last cell. As soon as he was inside, disgust overwhelmed him. The thing huddled in a corner trying to protect itself from the biting cold (even though it was the middle of summer) had little left of human. It was completely emaciated. Its face resembled a skull and had almost no teeth left.
So it was him, the one responsible for the terrors of his adolescence? The one who, by failing against Dumbledore, had given the latter enough influence to force Dippet to expel him from Hogwarts (despite his more than brilliant academic record that should normally have made him overqualified for the position he coveted).
After having to leave Hogwarts (only a few hours after his graduation ceremony), to reassure himself, he told himself that it wasn't the first time he had to sleep on the street and that he was no longer the defenseless little runaway he was at 9 years old. But he swore it would be the last time. Never again would he try to play by the rules. He had made so much effort to try to follow the absurd rules of that goody-goody Dumbledore. And this is how he was rewarded. If he had been honest, he would have admitted that he hadn't quite played by Dumbledore's rules and that there were good reasons to deny him that position. The murder of the Muggle who had abandoned him and his mother was probably not Dumbledore's definition of a successful family reunion. As for the rest, he refused to believe that Dumbledore had any real reason to suspect him. He had been extremely careful.
He would also have admitted that his situation was more due to his pride than to Dumbledore's schemes. Not yet considered of age in the Muggle world, he could have easily demanded to be given back his old room at the orphanage until he found a job and accommodation in the wizarding world. However, the meteor shower, the gentle warmth of this early summer of 1944, the possibility of using magic to protect himself, the euphoric atmosphere in the streets of Muggle London after the announcement of the success of the landing, and especially the memory of his last thunderous departure from the orphanage had convinced him to settle for a few days on a bench in St James’s Park (normally, no wizard was likely to see him there, but just in case, he had covered himself with a disillusionment charm).
He suddenly removed his invisibility cloak. What was left of Gellert Grindelwald let out a yelp of terror upon seeing him emerge from nowhere in his cell. Then he tried to go back to sleep by curling up in his threadbare blanket.
My hallucinations are becoming stranger and stranger. Maybe tonight, I will finally be able to cross to the other side. Murmured the one who had once terrorized Europe.
When its fetid breath reached him, Voldemort had to make a huge effort not to finish off the architect of the death camps.
I am not a hallucination, I am ….
That's what they all say. Interrupted the skeleton. Young man, if you have truly conquered death, you shouldn't have any trouble finishing me off. Tell me, which member of your family did I kill? Oh, I know, I killed them all. Generally, I tried not to separate families, but what can you do, my men weren't as conscientious as I was. You must be one of the countless bastards from the Russian plains who escaped the Holocaust by bullets. At the time, the SS were only in their embryonic state, and many of the muggles who composed them hadn't been sufficiently indoctrinated to consider that babies were a threat to the Reich. The executives had studied enough to quickly grasp new ideas, but the underlings needed more time to ...
Poor fool, stop your ramblings. Know that you are facing Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Answer my questions and perhaps I will show mercy. Resist and you will regret it.
Voldemort did not understand why he felt so much anger. The man had dared to interrupt him, but that should not have annoyed him so much.
Would I regret it? What could you possibly do to me that is more terrible than this life to which my tender love has condemned me after defeating me? You are the most amusing hallucination that has visited me this year.
Do you want to know why you lost while I am about to triumph? You lack imagination. What does this symbol mean? Asked Voldemort with a menacing look, pointing to a drawing on a piece of paper.
The man briefly became serious again. Then burst into laughter.
Never even in my worst fevers could I have imagined something so ridiculous. You don't even know who you are.
Endoloris. Voldemort screamed mechanically. Answer or I will kill you. He said, mad with a completely disproportionate rage (even for him).
If you were truly the master of death, you would know that there are things far worse than death. Now, I am sure you are a hallucination.
Endoloris. Crush! Voldemort throws, thinking to silence the prisoner by crushing his ribcage. But the man continued to laugh, choking from lack of breath.
Ah! Ah! Ah! You have no way to scare me. What can brute force do against a ghost? You don't understand. I'm already dead.
In a rage, Voldemort intensified his spell so much that the old man died on the spot, his chest crushed and his organs spilling onto the ground in a bloody pulp. Realizing what he had just done, he almost dropped his wand. He had just definitively closed off his last lead. That brat's feelings had once again driven him to do something reckless. If he had been able to think clearly, he certainly could have manipulated Grindelwald. If he had dangled the prospect of freedom, he would certainly have answered all his questions.
But Voldemort saw no virtue in dwelling on his past mistakes, so he banished his regrets and began to carefully examine hisCell. It went quickly. It was completely empty. He didn’t have the slightest clue. Mad with rage, he blew up the cell wall with a bombarda and triggered the prison alarms. He would really have to deal with the spirit of his host. From now on, the Dursleys would be priority targets. However, before flying away, he noticed that his spell, in addition to properly ventilating the room for the first time in 40 years, had dislodged a stone from the wall revealing a hiding place. Voldemort swore mentally. He hadn’t thought to search for something hidden with Muggle techniques. It was obvious, though. Grindelwald, once deprived of his powers, had no other choice to keep things safe from his guards' searches than to resort to such deplorable expedients.
Once again, he was disappointed. All that the hiding place contained was an old children's book. And he couldn't afford to stay any longer. However, it was out of the question for him to leave before thoroughly exploring every lead. He took the book and settled in a nearby cave. Despite all his examinations, the book revealed nothing. It was a simple collection of children's stories, without any trace of even slight magic. But from now on, Voldemort knew that Grindelwald resorted to Muggle techniques to hide his secrets. One of the pages was dog-eared.
He opened the book at that spot, irritably removed a lock of auburn hair that had slipped between the pages (without noticing that it was tied with a pink ribbon on which the letters were calligraphed: A.P.W.B.D) and began to read: "The Tale of the Three Brothers"
oOoOoOo
Once he finished reading, 5 words repeated in Voldemort's mind: "The master of death." It was impossible, completely absurd. And yet, what better explanation? If someone was destined to become the master of death, it was him. And if that was what the prophecy foretold? If this whole ordeal was only meant to lead him here?
Voldemort did not believe in fate. He made his own fate through his efforts and intelligence. Fate was the excuse that the weak and the fools used for not taking charge of their lives. But since he had sensed this magic, he had the feeling that something superior existed. Perhaps that was what had terrified him so much? Well, she would soon learn that Lord Voldemort was afraid of nothing. If it existed, he would find it, and it would soon regret wanting to play with Lord Voldemort.
Freed from his fears, for the first time since his resurrection, he unleashed the power of the relics.
A few minutes later, the mountain facing Numengard split in two and a gigantic landslide rushed towards the prison. The last thing the guards and prisoners of the terrible fortress heard before dying suffocated under tons of rubble was an evil laugh so triumphant that it chilled with fear the Muggle goat herders in the other valley. When a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth lit up the sky, they completely abandoned their herd (which in any case was only too willing during the hot season).
oOoOoOo
Author's note: Little is known about the Grindelwald of the books and I dislike the one from the movies: Fantastic Beasts. I haven't seen the third one, but what I saw in the second film convinced me not to continue (it's a shame, because I quite liked the first one).
In any case, my Grindelwald is not very faithful to the little information we have about him in the original books, but I took so much pleasure in writing this Grindelwald that I couldn't bring myself to modify him to better fit the canon. However, know that in the books, it is mentioned that in his later years, he expressed regret for what he did. The 'real' Grindelwald is presumably not as monstrous as my Grindelwald.Note from the proofreader: The "Fantastic Beasts" films do not exist in the Harry Potter timeline and are just a series hastily written by the original author to continue riding on her own popularity. The book on this subject is merely a classification manual and reveals almost nothing about the identity of its author, except that he managed not to get eaten by a black cloak. Aka the Lethifold. Proof of this is the existence of a witch McGonagall at this time. McGonagall is only a witch through her mother, her father being a pure Muggle.Moreover, I find that this version of Gellert Grindelwald is particularly faithful to the contrary, we know that he was behind the Second World War, that he was close to Dumby, and above all, that he ended up imprisoned in the prison he had built himself for the rest of his life. Such a mad and tortured being fits quite well, I think. Even if he regrets his actions, we cannot expect him to be lucid, being starved, frozen, and locked in the dark for more than 50 years...