Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11150082.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Major_Character_Death
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Percy_Weasley/Oliver_Wood, Cho_Chang/Cedric_Diggory
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Lily_Evans_Potter, Cedric_Diggory, Original_Male_Character
      (s), Molly_Weasley, Arthur_Weasley, Sirius_Black, Fred_Weasley, George
      Weasley, Hermione_Granger, Ron_Weasley, Oliver_Wood, Percy_Weasley,
      Dolores_Umbridge, Cornelius_Fudge, Cho_Chang, Marcus_Flint
  Additional Tags:
      Written_with_Speech_Dictation, Challenge_Response, Cross-Posted_on
      FanFiction.Net, Het_and_Slash, Slash, Politics, Alternate_Universe_-
      Politics, Blood_and_Gore, Death, Blood_and_Violence, Violence, Out_of
      Character, Het, Alternate_Universe_-_Royalty, Modern_Royalty, War,
      Morally_Grey_Harry_Potter, Magically_Powerful_Harry, Powerful_Harry,
      Second_War_with_Voldemort, Powerful_Voldemort, Royal_Harry, No_Weasely
      Bashing, Weaslys_are_Loyal_to_Harry, Military, Threesome_-_F/M/M, Other
      Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Pairings_to_be_decided_-_Freeform, Mind
      Palace, Absolute_Monarchy, Wolfram_&_Hart, Courtroom_Drama, Lawyers,
      Grimmauld_Place, Book_5:_Harry_Potter_and_the_Order_of_the_Phoenix, Order
      of_the_Phoenix_(Harry_Potter), The_Noble_and_Most_Ancient_House_of_Black,
      Azkaban, Harry_is_Lord_Potter, Ministry_of_Magic, POV_Multiple, Master_of
      Death, Bad_Het_Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-09 Updated: 2017-10-19 Chapters: 5/? Words: 43744
****** Kings Never Die ******
by ChrisF
Summary
     A Response to my own Hail to the King/Overlord of Magic Challenge.
     For those of us climbing to the top of the food chain, there can be
     no mercy. There is but one rule: hunt or be hunted. I have zero
     tolerance for betrayal, which they will soon indelibly learn...
Notes
     It has been brought to my attention that Some may not know what an
     Absolute Monarchy is. So, Crash course: It's very simple. Unlike a
     constitutional Monarchy which is Often seen as a Figurehead (It
     isn't) and whose Power is confined to a Constitution, An Absolute
     Monarchs power is Absolute. Their word is Law
     Also, to be Clear, this will have Slash and Het. However, being Gay
     it will be more Heavily Slash. If this Bothers you, You know where
     the Back button is. Also, the fic doesn't focus on Smut, but it will
     probably happen. The FF.N Versions will as always be Redacted
     -----
     Challenge Information:
     Plot: For nearly five years Harry has watched the Prejudice and
     corruption of the Magical Community, suffered their slings and
     arrows, but no more! When the Dark Lord returns and the people turn
     on him again he's had enough. If the Wizards can't take care of
     themselves than he will do it for them - by force!
     Rules:
     Must begin after the Third Task, or Summer before 5th Year
     Harry Must Declare Himself King of the Wizards
     Absolute Monarchy
     There Must be an Actual War, with Soldiers and Armies (Always hated
     the Term "War with Voldemort")
     The Ministry and Dumbledore Must Oppose Harry
     The Weasley Family, including Percy, must be Monarchists and pledge
     themselves to Harry (Just for fun, a Break from the Bashing)
     All Affinities Welcome – Grey with Dark leanings considering what he
     sets out to do
     All Pairs welcome except Forbidden
     Super powerful, or OP Harry
     Superpowered Voldemort and Dumbledore
     Guidelines/Optional:
     Master of Death Harry -Maybe
     Harry becomes emancipated and Claims his Family Titles (Nobility) -
     Accepted
     Super Intelligent/Genius Harry (Think Lelouch or Light) - Accepted
     Fawkes bonds with Harry as his Familiar - Accepted
     As a result of the new bond, Fawkes transforms into a Dark Phoenix
     with Powers associated with Death (i.e. Poison Tears, Cry that kills
     etc...) – Depends on how DARK Harry Gets
     The Muggle Crown Opposes Harry - Accepted
     Neville becomes The Ministry's Poster Boy – Accepted (I love him but
     Authors Always make him Loyal to Harry)
     Sirius and/or Ron become Harry's Knight of Honor – No (I have Other
     idea's)
     Harry becomes the first of his name, creating a New line (i.e.
     Targaryen, Britannia etc...) –No
     Multiple Partners (Harry IS Starting a Dynasty) – No (M/M/F doesn't
     count to me)
     Slash - Accepted
     M/M/F Pairs - Accepted
     M/F/F Pair - No
     Crossover - References
     Suggested Pairs:(Optional and Not Required!)
     Harry/Tonks (Haven't seen this in ages, and as a Black could lend
     Legitimacy to Harry's claim)
     Harry/Luna
     Harry/Ginny (Don't like it, but I can see it here)
     Harry/Member of the Muggle Royal Family - OC, NOT Real Person)
     Harry/Cedric (If he Lives) -Undecided, but Probably. I can never Not
     (Thank my Friend Storm Wolfsong)
     Harry/Seamus
     Harry/Blaise (NOT Female. hate that)
     Harry/Marcus Flint
     Any Combo of those Listed
     Forbidden:
     Harry Siding with Voldemort
     Giving up his Crusade
     Weak/or Unintelligent Harry
     Harry/Hermione
     Harry/Fem!Blaise
     Fem!Harry
     constitutional Wizard Monarchy
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Conversations in the Dark *****
Ottery St. Catchpole was a small quaint little town just outside of Devonshire.
It was mostly open field filled with sheep and wheat, but it was nice. It was
quiet. That quiet, however, was about to be broken.
A small cabin sat in the field surrounded by a fence with nothing around it for
good kilometer. Light spilled from the open windows and casts a warm glow over
the area, but the silence of the night was soon broken by panicked yelling and
the sound of running footsteps.
Inside the house, Amos Diggory sat in his study in front of a warm fireplace
with a glass of brandy in hand. The flickering firelight casting in eerie glow
over mahogany walls and making shadows dance, and the tumbler of the brandy to
look like gold.
One might wonder how such an elegant room could fit with the decor of a cozy
cottage, but when it came to Wizards nothing was as it seemed.
Amos sat staring blindly into the flames and contemplating the last month of
his life. It had nearly been irrevocably changed. At the end of June, during
the tri-Wizard tournament, Amos Diggory had nearly lost his son. He still
wasn't sure what happened that night, but his son Cedric had exited the maze of
the third task covered in dirt and bruised, and yelling incoherently that Harry
Potter, the boy who lived was in trouble - in danger - and that the Dark Lord
had returned.
And wasn't that just a kick in the teeth. The Dark Lord returned to power. His
stomach flopped at the mere thought of it. He remembered the Dark Lord's first
rise and the had no urge to relive it.
He believed his son. Cedric wasn't a liar; if he said that the Dark Lord was
back then Amos believed him, but it was only natural that such a proclamation
would cause a panic. At first, the silence was deafening, and then the erupted
in shouts of denial and anger and fear. The headmasters of the various schools
and the minister had come barreling down to meet Cedric, all shouting questions
and accusations and demanding to know what happened. It was pure bedlam.
And then it all stopped, interrupted by an ear-splitting earthshaking boom that
forced the mob to go silent. They all stopped and looked around them. It was
one of the Stadium audience that said first. "It's Harry Potter!" She yelled.
Amos remembered thinking the impossible. The boy had Apparated – bypassing the
wards of Hogwarts, seemingly by sheer force of will.
Everyone rushed toward the boy, all shouting questions at once and surrounding
him but Cedric forced his way through the crowd with a glare that would put a
basilisk to shame, and the shouts quieted to a dull roar. His son turned to
Harry checking him over for himself.
All the while Harry simply smiled in relief. "You made it…" He whispered and
grinned tiredly before collapsing into unconsciousness.
As he had said before, Amos wasn't sure what it happened in that maze, or
afterward if you listened to Harry's story when he woke up. Cedric had won the
tournament that evening, but according to Cedric Harry had saved his life that
day and as far as Amos was concerned Harry was a hero.
Amos was broken from his thoughts by the sound of muffled yelling in the other
room making his head swivel around to investigate. The silencing charms around
the house weren't particularly strong, but it must've been loud to pierce it.
That was Cedric's voice. Amos paled at the realization and nearly slammed his
glass down on the side table in his rush to get up. Hastily exiting his study,
he made his way through the house toward his son's room. "Cedric!" He called
loudly as he neared. He reached for his wand to undo the locking charm, but it
was unnecessary the door was already open.
Roberta - Cedric's mother - sat on his bed with a worried expression as she
watched her son pace back and forth across his room in the dark. Amos looks to
her questioningly, but she only shook her head with the lost expression.
Meanwhile, hearing his father call his name Cedric turned to face his father
and moved to meet him. The hallway light exposed Cedric's pale, sweat drenched
face. "Dad! We have to do something, Harry's in trouble… Dementors'…"
Cedric was frantic, speaking too fast to properly understand. All he heard was
Harry, trouble, and Dementors'. "Whoa, whoa, slow down son. Take a breath and
try again."
Cedric stopped and took a deep breath, swallowing hard before repeating himself
slower. "Harry is in trouble. He's being attacked by Dementors'"
Amos's face fell, flooded with concern by Cedric's assertion, but it didn't
make any sense. Dumbledore said that Harry was safe where he was, and even if
he wasn't there was no way that Cedric would know if he was in trouble or not,
was there? Amos took a minute to assess the situation. He looked around his
son's room and comprehension dawned on him. "Now just take a minute and relax
Cedric," he said as calmly as possible. "I'm sure it was just a dream. After
all, you have been through a very traumatic experience."
This only seemed to irritate Cedric more. "No dad," he shook his head
violently. "I mean yes, I was sleeping but I know that Harry is in trouble."
"Now Cedric…" He began to speak but cut himself off and instead chose to take a
more logical track. "Think about this logically. How could you possibly know if
Harry was in trouble?"
Cedric took a minute to again calm himself and try to collect his thoughts. Now
was not the time to panic, he told himself. He locked his gaze on his father
and addressed him in an eerily cold and calm tone. "I would know," he said
simply. "We - I have to help him, dad. I owe him my life." He said that last
bit with a very pointed expression.
A heavy protracted silence fell over the room like a massive weight pressing
down on them. They all stood there in silence for another few seconds observing
one another, and not speaking a word. The gravity of his statement hitting them
like a ton of bricks.
Amos's lips thinned into a hard line. Cedric was right. He owed Harry Potter a
debt of life. In theory, he would know when Harry Potter was in danger, and
even if he was wrong that wasn't a chance that they could take. "… All right,
I'll contact Dumbledore."
Cedric nodded in relief and moved to follow his father as he exited the room.
Amos knew that Cedric was following him as he made his way to his bedroom to
retrieve the mirror the Dumbledore had given him for emergency communications.
As a rule, Cedric did not enter his parents' bedroom. He never had, but in this
case, Amos ignored it in favor of the emergency. He went to his bedside table
and retrieve the two-way mirror from the drawer. "Albus Dumbledore…"
The glass fogged and turned for a moment before it connected to the other side.
"What can I help you with Amos," Dumbledore said as his face filled the other
side. He held the same kind grandfatherly tone that he always did, but he did
sound slightly distracted.
"Well Albus," he responded sounding slightly apologetic. "This may sound
strange, but we believe that Harry Potter may be in some danger."
Dumbledore's face became slightly grim. "I'm aware," he confirmed. "I'm on my
way to headquarters to summon the order."
Amos's brow furrowed. How would Dumbledore know so soon if Harry were in
trouble? He shook his head and decided to let it go. "All right," he said and
paused, considering his next words carefully. "We will be there in a few
moments."
Albus nodded and the mirror fogged and cleared. He put the mirror back in the
drawer and turned to face Cedric intending to tell him to get dressed, but the
boy had already pulled his wand and transfigured his pajamas into jeans and a
long-sleeved shirt. Amos nodded. He could try and tell his son not to go, but
he knew it would be a fight. "I'll make a portkey…"
Amos sighed, Roberta was not going to be happy.
-x-
Magnolia Crescent - a few minutes earlier
Harry Potter had faced death before many times. Well, four times before, but
for an average person that was three times too many. He was rather used to it.
Something about this time, however, was different. His cousin was on the
ground, curled up into the fetal position in a gibbering mess of fear unable to
see their assailants, but Harry could see them… Black robed figures gliding
down the street toward them, the very specter of death and Harry had lost his
wand - thank you very much Dudley Dursley! For the first time in his life,
Harry Potter felt true fear. Not the adrenaline rush that comes with survival
instinct, but true, cold and paralyzing fear.
One of the Dementors descended on him, reaching out with a skeletal hand whose
flesh still clung to the bone, and grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted
him off his feet. This close to a Dementor Harry felt a chill settle over him
like a bucket of ice water over his bones. He could hear the literal soul-
sucking noise behind the dark void of the creature's hood.
His vision began to waver and blur, darkness creeping around the edges, and he
had one thought as the darkness claimed him:
I don't want to die!
The first thing that he heard when he regained consciousness was the marry and
soothing crackle of a fire. Must be the hospital wing, Harry thought to
himself. Wherever he was, was soft as well. With his eyes still closed he ran
his palm over silk sheets. The cold was gone too. He felt warm and cozy, a
feeling that seeped into his very bones like the cold of the Dementors, but
much nicer...
Remembering the Dementors gave him a jolt. His eyes snapped open and he sat
bolt upright in bed, looking around frantically. Seeing no danger Harry took a
moment to collect himself, taking in his surroundings. The room was indeed
cozy. The walls were made of a rich stained holly wood paneling, contrasted by
flickering shadows cast by the firelight. The floor was covered in thick
crimson carpeting that Harry imagined would be very pleasant under his bare
feet; except for space right in front of the fireplace that looked to be smooth
gray cobblestone.
On closer inspection, however, he noticed that the room was in great disarray.
There was a desk on the far wall, for example, that was filled with junk of all
kinds: old broken toys, dirty tattered clothes, and all kinds of odds and ends.
On the far opposite wall, and the one to his left were empty bookshelves, the
books having long since fallen to the floor; some of them splayed open others
stacked haphazardly against the wall covered in dust as if they hadn't been
touched in ages. Likewise, there were loose pieces of paper and parchment
scattered all over the floor of the room; and the entire room, Harry noticed
was covered in the thinnest sheen of dust.
On the mantle above the fireplace sat four precious stones over varying size
and color. One that was a small sapphire the size of his fist, another with the
smaller blood red Ruby, the third a crystal-clear diamond, and the fourth was a
large black obsidian shard the size of three hands that seemed to absorb the
light the room. Unlike the other objects in the room, these four gems appeared
to be mounted to the mantle.
On the far end of the room, just out of Harry's field of vision and obscured in
the darkest part of the room sat an empty St. Andrew's cross made of dull,
strained and crack hew whose leather straps hung loosely at the ends.
"Finally, with me I see," said a soft feminine voice that Harry thought he
would recognize nearly anywhere.
Harry's head whipped around toward the source of the voice which were two
chairs in front of the fireplace, facing away from him, the reminded him of the
all-too-familiar furniture in Gryffindor tower. He scrambled out of bed and
over to the fireplace, his face filled with happiness, excitement, worry, and
sadness all in equal measure. The woman that was now next to him had long
flowing auburn hair and eyes that shine like emeralds in the firelight. "Mum…"
He said quietly around the lump that was forming in his throat.
Lily Potter looked up at her son and smiled lovingly. "Hello baby," she said
softly. "My Harrison…" Before she could continue Harry launched himself at her
and broke down into tears - crying. She just wrapped her arms around him
smiling sadly and soothed him. "Shhhh, it's alright baby… It's alright," she
repeated softly rocking back and forth as Harry cried, releasing 14 years of
pent-up emotion.
It seemed like ages before Harry finally calms down and stop crying. Finally
pulling away with the sniffle, Harry smiled awkwardly at his mother an apology.
She just smiled and rubbed his back comfortingly.
Harry noticed when he pulled away from that the room had grown considerably
darker. The shadows and become darker – heavier - and the fire in the hearth
and died a little. He sat down in the other chair cautiously. He had so many
questions to ask, but he settled on the most obvious. "H-how are you here, and
what is this place," he asked." Are you a ghost?"
Lily laughed. Although he was biased, Harry thought it sounded like music, but
then again this was the first time Harry had heard his mother's voice without
hearing her scream. "Straight to the point. I suppose it makes sense because we
don't have much time. Simply put - we aren't physically here." She explained
and Harry looked confused, so she explained. "This is in your mind. It is what
some people call a mind palace, a metaphysical representation of your mind.
Although, the wizards and witches call it your magical core." Here she gestured
to a low burning fire.
"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. He understood most of it, but there were
few things that were lost on him. "If this is my mind then why is it such a
mess. It looks like no one's used this room in ages, and how are you here and
what are those?"
Lily laughed fondly at her son, and Harry blushed in response. He knew he was
babbling, but this was all so strange and he was curious. "It's alright Harry,"
she reassured him. "It is a bit disorganized. Although you can't fix that…
Everything you see around you is a part of you: memories, knowledge, things you
learned. With time and practice, you could organize and access it quickly."
"To answer your question, however, I have always been here." She explained
quickly before Harry could interrupt again. "The night the dark lord came for
you your father and I performed a very ancient ritual of Japanese origin. Using
this, I sealed up part of my magic and a tiny piece of myself inside your core.
It's why Voldemort could never touch you before last year."
"He did something to you that night though." Her face grew very grim and he
came to this part. "Like me, Voldemort sealed a piece of himself inside of you
and for the last 13 years I have contained him, binding him so that he could
not affect you." Here she saw fear enter Harry's eyes when she gestured to the
abandoned St. Andrew's cross concealed in the darkness. She stood up and moved
to wrap her arms around him to comfort him even as she reassured him. "It's
alright!" She said forcibly as she felt Harry stiffen in her arms. "It's
alright baby, he's gone now. My guess is that whatever ritual he used to bring
himself back last year used that part of himself. That's why he needed you and
your blood."
Harry nodded and extricated himself from her, sitting down stiffly. They sat in
silence for a few minutes as Harry contemplated what his mother told him. He
knew that he should be scared. The idea of Voldemort having ever been part of
him was terrifying, but the anger he felt learning this overpowered the fear.
He felt slightly violated and that infuriated him.
After a few minutes, Harry sighed and refocused. "And the jewels?"
Here Lily smirked and it was heartwarming to see how very much like Harry she
was in that moment." Well, those… Those are interesting. Tell me, Harry," she
said conspicuously. "Since your time at Hogwarts, how many people have you
saved?"
Harry looked at her confused. How many people did he save? It didn't make much
sense, not that he kept track of it. Still, he took a moment to think about it:
"Well, I don't really know. Let's see, there was Ginny in the second year,
Sirius in my third year and… Cedric last year." He realized, counting. "But
that's only three and there are four crystals, and what does that have to do
with anything?"
Lily nodded to the row of jewels with a smile. "Go on, go touch one - reach out
to it with your magic."
Harry went over and choosing a random crystal reached out with his palm and
placed it on the diamond. When he thought about pushing his magic into the
object the fireplace flared weekly before settling again. As he pushed the
power into the diamond he felt it respond and grow warm as power flowed back
into him in reciprocation. It was like having a cup of tea. He felt energized,
but more than that he also felt stronger.
He was about to draw away and look at his mother to explain but he never got
the chance. He gasped as images flashed before his eyes. He saw 10-year-old boy
excitedly opening what he knew to be his first broom on his birthday and
running out into the yard to climb on.
Just as quickly the image changed again. This time it was an 11-year-old boy -
the same 11-year-old boy. He felt pride emanating from him. He had received his
Hogwarts letter and excitedly showed his parents.
Images continued to flash before him. Some of them in quick succession and he
couldn't identify them. Others were clearer. He saw the boy watching a
Quidditch match at 13 years old, watching a 14-year-old Oliver Wood Fly on his
broom in front of the goal posts and blushing madly. There was one in the
Hogwarts library at the age of 16 of him helping a young Chinese girl that
Harry recognized as Cho Chang in the library at Hogwarts with her charms
homework. She would grin and him shyly and he would look back smiling
flirtatiously.
Finally, Harry had enough and wrenched his hand away, finding himself back in
his mind palace. He looked back at his mother in shock. "Those were Cedric
Diggory's memories! What the hell was that!"
"Each one of those crystals represents a life debt that is owed to you. Those
four individuals are bound to you, and you to them."
Harry took a minute to digest this information. His immediate reaction was to
object but he knew that it would do no good and suppressed the urge. "Okay," he
said exasperatedly. "That's only three though, what's the fourth one?"
Here Lily's eyes flashed with sadness. "That one is Severus - a life debt that
you inherited from your father."
Harry looked at her flabbergasted.
"But enough of that," Lily said abruptly. "We are running out of time. The
Dementor is about to claim you." Suddenly Harry was reminded of his dilemma and
noticed that the room had grown extremely dark. The fire was nearly gone and
the darkness encroaching on them. It barely illuminated the space in front of
them now.
Suddenly the survival instinct that Harry was familiar with took hold. His eyes
darkened in determination. He would not die tonight! "I'm open to suggestions
mum."
Lily's expression mirrored Harry's. "I want you to use the crystal again.
Connect with it and draw power into you. Use it to help you stave off the
Dementor once you're in the physical world. She paused and considered what he
was going to say next. "… I will give myself in your place."
Harry looked at his mother bug-eyed as if she were insane. "No mother!" He
objected. "I'm not going to let the Dementor take your soul, or your magic or
whatever is that you are now." As Harry was speaking a massive black hole
vortex formed in the center of the room, the powerful sucking noise it made
sounding like ripping paper.
Lily put herself between the vortex and Harry, pushing him away back towards
the fireplace. "Harry James Potter!" She yelled over the sound of the vortex to
be heard. "Do as you are told! I am your mother and it is my job to protect
you, I always have and I will do so again!" Harry looked at his mother in
despair but said nothing. "GO… And, I love you!"
Harry forced himself to turn away and climbed his eyes shut against the tears.
Squaring his shoulders as he marched up to the mantle and placed his hand upon
the diamond represented Cedric, connecting and pulling power from it. As he did
so, he heard his own voice echoing around his mind palace in a soft whisper.
"Help me… I don't want to die, I will not die!
Harry's eyes snapped open, but they were different. He's Emerald eyes glowed
with fire as green as the killing curse that he knew intimately. He felt rage
and anger build up inside of him like he'd never felt before. He grasped it
like a vice with his mind, remembering his core and his mind palace and pulled
on it imagining them as strings of palpable power and lashed out, releasing the
anger and rage in waves. "Get off of me!" He snarled and his voice echoed with
power. The Dementor was thrown backward as if he had hit a brick wall at full
GeForce speed. If it had not been the Dementor than and probably would've
turned into a puddle of goo.
He hit the pavement in a crouch, tossing his arms out to catch himself and
scraping them on the concrete. He stood up and look at the creature with
loathing. He hated Dementors. He despised them. They were foul creatures and he
didn't just want to drive them off, no he wanted to decimate them.
Acting on instinct he extended his arm in the direction that he remembered his
wand being in and felt it fly into his hand with an audible slapping sound.
It'd returned to his hand with such force that stung on his scraped palm.
"Incindia Inferno," he intoned a low and deadly voice the promised pain and
death. This street before him cracked and split as if the mouth of hell itself
were opening, and in a way, it was. Fire and lava begin to spew out from the
cracks, interrupting like a volcano. Streams of magical flame followed suit
lashing out at the Dementors like whips.
They screeched and dodged and backpedaled trying to avoid the flames but
wherever they moved new cracks appeared and the process repeated itself.
Eventually, the beasts were driven into the lava and their robes caught fire.
They screeched in an ungodly sound as the flames consume them burning them
until they were ash.
Harry stood there for a moment scanning the area looking for threats. Seeing
none he released his hold on power and his eyes faded returning to their normal
green.
He heaved to breath tiredly and was about to go check on his cousin, but before
he could do so the sound of several cracks reminiscent of his fourth year,
remembering the sound of apparition. He clenched his wand tightly bringing it
to bear.
"Drop your wand!" Several voices called out frantically. "Drop it now!"
Harry looked at them as if they were stupid. "Identify yourself and I'll think
about it!"
"Drop your wand now!" They repeated forcefully "Department of Magical Law
Enforcement! If you do not lower your wand we will fire."
Harry considered his options. Even if they weren't who they said they were,
taking on a few mindless creatures were different than taking on four arms
wizards and he wasn't stupid. He looked at them closely trying to remember
their faces for identification later. Two of them were very tall one of them a
black man that looked to be of South African descent. The other was a tall
grisly redhead that eyed him as if he were dangerous animal.
The two others were women, likely their partners. One was a slight of a girl
that looked vaguely familiar to him. What he found interesting was that her
features kept changing and her hair shifting colors. He got the distinct
impression she was nervous. The other Harry didn't recognize she was a hard-
faced woman looking to be in her early thirties to survey the scene with a
critical eye like a veteran.
"All right, all right." He said placing his wand slowly on the ground and
raising his hands above his head in the universal sign for surrender. "If you
are Auror's then check on my cousin Dudley. He does not look well."
The two male officers moved forward, one taking his wand and the other
approaching him cautiously. The woman with the shifting features moved toward
his cousin to check on him and the fourth kept watch.
The girl checked Dudley and looked back up grimly. "He's dead. It looks like
you souls been removed as well." Harry should have been horrified but he
wasn't. He found himself slightly amused. The Dementors didn't kill, they took
your soul. Fat bastard must've died of a heart attack. Harry smirked.
The grisly redhead placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and pushed him to his
knees. Oddly, Harry noticed that he did not look happy about it. "Put your
hands behind your back please." He grunted as Harry did as he was told. "Harry
James Potter, you are under arrest for breach of the statute is secrecy,
violation of the underage magic restriction, and the apparent murder of a
Muggle, and other such charges as the ministry deems appropriate."
"You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not
mention when questioned something which you later rely on in Court. Anything
you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"
Well, Fuck…
***** The Devil Wears Prada *****
Chapter Notes
     So, I have no doubt that Some of you will find this Chapter boring as
     all get-out but I DID warn about copious Politics, and It's
     Important. It's all Important, I don't do Filler.
     Having Said that, I am also aware that the British courts are
     Different to the American and WAY different to Magical courts. I
     intentionally did it the way that I did, Mixing and Matching the
     three and some just outright making it up. So Don't waste your time.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Well, here he was in the Ministry of Magic. Harry admitted to himself that he'd
always been curious to see it. With the way the Wizards had hidden themselves
within the Muggle world itself, he always wondered where it was. Granted, when
he imagined seeing the ministry for the first time it wasn't supposed to be
like this - from the Ministry holding cell. He felt like he was in the Tower of
London. Because the Wizarding community lacked certain amenities that the
Muggles possessed, like electricity for example - it was dark. There were
candles drawn about on brackets in the walls, and he had one personally in his
cell, and they cast weak shadows on the walls.
And his cell; now Harry found that interesting. Like he imagined most
Muggleborns did, Harry had imagined old school metal bars like you saw on the
telly, or in old Westerns, but no, his cell was open. There were no bars or
doors or locks. Yet, if Harry touched it, it would ripple with purple magic and
shock him until he drew his hand away. He hadn't tested that more than once.
After Auror's' had arrested him they had brought him to the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement to be booked. Given the late hour he wouldn't be
officially arraigned until morning, but Harry wasn't as much of an idiot as
people assumed he was. As soon as Rufus Scrimgeour -Harry had learned his name
was - had cautioned him the Raven-haired boy had demanded a barrister.
Even had Dumbledore deigned to show up, which he hadn't done yet, Harry wasn't
taking any chances - not with a murder charge. He had seen how the ministry
liked to treat suspected murderers and he wasn't about to allow that to happen.
So, for the time being, unable to do anything else, Harry sat alone in his cell
lost in thought. He should be scared and he was a little bit. He was
potentially on the hook for murder, anyone would be a little scared but mostly
he just felt numb: angry and disbelieving at his predicament, but mostly numb.
He kept playing what happened over and over in his head and he couldn't quite
believe it.
He had seen his mother for the first time in something other than a dream or
photo, he had touched her and spoken to her, and just like that she was gone
again - sacrificing herself to save him. And wasn't that just a kick in the
teeth…
He kept going over things that he didn't say to her but wanted to. He hadn't
even thanked her.
He wondered vaguely what she would think of this, what she had thought of his
whole life. He was sure that when she had sacrificed herself for him, putting
herself between him and Voldemort that she had not thought that he would be
viewed as a hero. Some hero, he thought. One minute they adore me in the next
I'm a pariah. They expect me to save them and then accuse me of being dark. Or
crazy…
Harry was about as blind as he was stupid. Okay, so maybe a little more blind
but he knew what people were saying about him: calling him delusional,
attention seeking and a few times even a whore for fame. In truth, he didn't
hold out much hope for the trial. Whoever he got stuck with would probably want
him locked away just as much.
Thoughts like that are what brought the slither of fear that Harry felt. He saw
what Azkaban had done to his Godfather. For all his playfulness and humor Harry
saw the haunted look behind his Godfather's eyes, and he had no urge to
experience that for himself. Besides which, if Harry ended up in Azkaban he
would be the Dementors treat.
God, he hated Dementors.
Every time that fear swam to the top, he would clench his fist, digging his
nails into the scrapes on his palms until he drew blood, hissing at the pain.
There are two kinds of pain. The sort of pain that makes you strong, or useless
pain. The sort of pain that's only suffering. Harry had no use for the latter
but embraced the former. He used it earlier that night when he had destroyed
those Dementors. It gave him power, it gave him clarity and he gave him focus.
So, as he sat there alone in a cell in the dark with his thoughts, he planned
and plotted. He had not allowed the Dementors to kill him, he had survived Tom
Riddle three times, he had outrun a Dragon, and he defeated a thousand-year-old
basilisk. He would not let the mewling fear of the populace be his downfall.
People were like children, he decided. They needed a guiding hand: they needed
someone to tell them what to do, how to think, how to behave, show them right
from wrong and even tell them what to believe and when they didn't get that way
they cried and complained and lashed out. And it was then, like any child that
they needed to be punished.
And so, yet again, Harry planned. If they needed someone to guide them then he
would do so. He would be the Savior that they wanted and needed…
The problem with that was that oftentimes the thing that children wanted and
needed were not the same thing. Oftentimes what they needed was not what they
wanted.
He would save them from themselves.
He mulled over his course of action one last time. It would not be simple and
easy, and once he started there was no going back, but once he settled a smile
bloomed across his face and he lay down on the cot and went to sleep.
And for the first time in months, Harry slept soundly.
Harry didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up it was to the sound of
his name being called. "Potter, wake up!" The gruff voice of an Auror said from
outside his cell. Harry cracked open one eye to look at his guard
questioningly. "Lawyer's here," he answered the unasked question.
Hearing that Harry rolled out of bed with a grin pasted on his face. "Mornin'
Gov'ner." He said politely in overdrawn Cockney. "Off we go then."
The Auror drew his wand and tapped it on the stone of his cell that had a rune
that Harry didn't recognize etched into it. Hermione was the runes expert of
the three of them, not him. The purple shield rippled and vanished and Harry
stepped out of his cell. "Lead the way."
The officer led him to the end of the room to a lift, drawing a Golden gate
closed behind them. He then again tapped his wand on a rune among a series of
them and the lift began to rise. A lot like a Muggle elevator then; and it
would appear that they were underground if the rising lift was any indication.
Good to know.
Eventually, they came to stop and exited into a hallway that looked like an
office suite. It appeared to be well lit, which implied that they were higher
up now and not underground. Doors dotted the whitewashed walls at intervals.
Eventually, they came to a conference room that Harry could see through a glass
wall. His guard opened the door and motioned him inside. Harry looked at him
questioningly, but the man said nothing. Shrugging it off, Harry entered the
room. He had expected an interrogation room but whatever.
A long mahogany table took up most of the space with padded office chairs
lining both sides. On the opposite side of the table, a man sat with blonde
hair and a bit of scruff on his chin. He looked to be in his late twenties,
possibly as early thirties wearing what looked to be an expensive but nice
suit.
Seeing Harry come into the room the man stood up to greet him, straightening
jacket and extending his hand. "You must be Mr. Potter. My name is Davis
Hardman," he said as he shook Harry's hand. Afterward, he reached into his
pocket and pulled a card setting it on the table for Harry to see. "I represent
the London branch of Wolfram and Hart."
Harry took his seat across the table and looked at the card. 'Wolfram and Hart:
Attorneys at Law' the card read. "So, you're my public defender," Harry asked a
bit skeptically. The man was far too well dressed and groomed to be a public
defender.
Harry's question made the man laugh. "Oh heavens no." The lawyer denied.
Harry raised an eyebrow. If the man wasn't a public defender what was he doing
here? "I don't recall hiring a lawyer. Not that I don't appreciate the offer. I
can certainly pay you, but I didn't hire you."
"Well, you didn't," Davis answered honestly as he reseated himself. "We were
hired by one Amos Jeffrey Diggory on your behalf," he explained before Harry
could ask. "And I thought you might be a bit more comfortable up here rather
than in an interrogation room."
The statement surprised Harry. Had Amos Diggory gotten him a lawyer? Granted,
as he told Mr. Hardman, he could have afforded the man's services himself. He
knew that he had money. He didn't know how much money, but he did know that his
trust vault never seemed to dwindle. Still, that Amos would do this for him
made Harry feel grateful. He would have to be sure and thank the man if he saw
him again.
Harry was precluded from thinking about the matter further as Davis spoke,
requiring his attention. "Now, I need to ask you some questions and some of
them may not be comfortable, but I need you to answer as honestly as you can."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Your arraignment is in about an hour. I'm sure
that you're aware of the charges." Here Davis quickly listed the charges from
the minor to the most serious: violating the underage magic restriction, breach
of the statute of secrecy, and the most serious them being the murder of his
Muggle cousin Dudley. "Now, I'm sorry Harry but I need to ask you - are you
guilty of any of the charges as I've read them to you?"
Harry frowned when he heard the question. Of course, he wasn't guilty, but then
again, he supposed it was a fair question for a barrister. If you were going to
defend a man who committed a crime then, in theory, you would want to know
whether he committed the crime or not so that you knew how to build your case.
When he thought about the question from that perspective he pushed his ire
aside and really thought about it. He supposed that he had committed at least
one of the crimes he was accused of. He had broken the underage magic
restriction and the statute is secrecy, but that didn't really count, he
thought. His cousin knew that he was a wizard even if he did hate it and he had
only broken the restriction to defend he and his cousin - failing
spectacularly, but all the same and that's what he told the barrister as well.
"I certainly didn't kill him, however. That was the Dementor. Well no, that's
not even true I don't think. From what I could tell Dudley died of a heart
attack after the Dementor kissed him. My cousin was massively overweight you
see. Add to that the fear induced by Dementors and it's no surprise."
Davis Harding nodded in understanding as Harry told his tale. Every once in a
while, he would make a note on a legal pad that Harry hadn't seen the man pull
out, but most of all he said and listened. "Well, normally such cases would
simply go before a disciplinary committee in the case of underage magic, or the
magistrates' court since you're accused of violating the statute is secrecy,
but the murder charge complicates things. You'll have to go before the crown
court of the full Wizengamot for trial."
"The good news is that most of the charges against you are simple. Since your
cousin knew about magic that one should be easily dismissed, and if we can
illustrate that you felt a legitimate threat to your safety the underage magic
charge." Here Hardman paused and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a stone
basin and his wand. It was obvious that the briefcase with expanded. "Tell me,
Harry, do you know what a pensive is?"
Recognition shown in Harry's eyes. He recognized the object from the similar
one that he'd seen in Dumbledore's office last year. He nodded in affirmative.
"With your permission," Hartman said. "I would like to make a copy of and view
the memory of last night."
The request made perfect sense. If Harry could show the Dementors in his
neighborhood then his case would be over any walk away free, but he hesitated.
He remembered the conversation with his mother and while he didn't intend to
hide that nor did he want to share it. It was a personal private moment that he
wanted to keep that way.
The barrister noticed the hesitation and tried to reassure Harry. "Mr. Potter,"
he said professionally. "I can assure you that whatever you tell me or show me
in this room I am required to keep confidential as you are my client."
After a moment Harry relented. After all, it was the easiest way he could think
of to get out from under a murder charge of all things. Still, Harry included a
caveat to it. "Fine. I'll show you the unedited memory, but you are only to
include the relevant information to the court," he said finally. He wouldn't
budge on that issue. The moment between him and his mother was private.
Davis examined Harry for a moment before nodding in acceptance of the
stipulation. He didn't like it, and he had a feeling that whatever Harry wanted
to hide was important, but in the end, Harry was his client, even if Mr.
Diggory had hired him. "Very well," he nodded and picked up his wand. "If I
may…?" He stood up and gestured at Harry in silent question. "I'll just need
you to think about the memory as clearly as you can. This won't hurt, although
it may feel a bit strange."
Harry closed his eyes and attempted to remember that night in as much detail as
he could. He felt Davis his wand against his temple, and when he nodded that he
was ready he felt as if something slimy and wet were being pulled away from his
head. "All right Mr. Potter," he heard Davis say and opened his eyes. The
barrister was sitting back in the seat with the pensive in front of him. "Now,
I will need a moment to view the memory and then we would discuss it. You may
view the memory with me if you wish."
Harry shook his head negatively. He had no need or desire to see the memory
again. It would only be painful to recall. "All right, if you give me a few
moments…" He leaned over and stuck his head directly into the bowl.
Harry sat awkwardly in silence waiting. Despite his insistence on a normal
boring life, the truth was that he had never been good with inactivity. He
thought randomly that, that was one of the reasons that he and Ron got along as
well as they did. Sure, Ron tended to be a bit more brash and bullheaded than
Harry himself, but he always kept him very busy.
He looked at his barrister questioningly as he came up for air. "Well, what's
the verdict?" He asked with a half joking grin. When he saw the look on the
man's face, however, his grin slipped. "Not good then I take it." It was a
statement, not a question.
For his part, when the barrister withdrew from the pensive he looked back at
his client, the Boy Who Lived with an interesting mix of shock, awe, amazement
and just a tiny sliver of fear. He had expected a lot of things before he
viewed the pensive, but that was more than a little different than he expected.
He had watched the fight if it could be called back with his cousin and seen
the Dementors descend. So, the boy was telling the truth, but it was what he
had seen, and heard after the fact that was amazing. Because the memory was
from Harry's perspective, the barrister Saw what Harry saw: the conversation
with Lily Potter.
So many people wondered what happened that night that the dark wizard Voldemort
had attacked the Potters. Granted, Lily had not said outright what she had
done, but the inferences were there. If she was to be believed then Lily and
James Potter had sacrificed themselves in a ritual to protect their son. It was
highly plausible to Davis from what he inferred that James Potter, or what was
left of him had taken the hit from the death curse. That left Lily to contain
the soul fragment that Voldemort had placed within her son.
And that was another piece of extremely valuable information. Voldemort had
created phylacteries, or as the wizards like to refer to them, Horcruxes. At
least one of them and possibly more. The Senior Partners would want to be made
aware of this if they weren't already.
Bringing his thoughts back to the matter at hand Davis had to admit that he was
impressed with the boy. Borrowed power or not, the way he handled the Dementors
had been impressive. And Harry Potter apparently had four different cores to
draw on. That made him very powerful, and a potentially useful ally. He
resolved then and there to put all that he had into this case. If he could
bring Harry Potter to the firm as a client…
"Oh no!" He reassured Harry quickly after making a few quick notes on his legal
pad. "On the contrary, this is very good for us. The Dementors are very
obviously present and your life in jeopardy. Seems rather straightforward to
me."
"And how much of the memory will you need Mr. Harding," Harry said darkly
cautious. "I would prefer to keep the conversation between myself and my mother
private if I could."
Davis nodded in understanding. "That is understandable all things considered.
Luckily, we shouldn't need much of it, just the beginning and the end I think.
"Davis left it at that. Unfortunately, the memory doesn't show the Dementors
kissing young Mr. Dursley and without showing the rest of the memory it did not
look good but Davis chose not to stress the boy over much. He may be able to
paint it in such a way that Harry didn't remember because of the Dementors
presence. "I understand that you have somewhat of an adverse reaction to
Dementor presence, do you not?" He remembered having heard a rumor such a thing
but was unsure.
Harry's face grew sour at the question but nodded in assent. "Good, good I can
use that," Davis muttered more to himself than to Harry, making another note.
When he finished Davis looked at his watch. Nearly the entire hour had passed.
"Well, we should get going. It's nearly time for your arraignment." He gestured
toward the door that Harry had entered.
Harry sighed and straightened his shoulders mentally preparing himself. When
they exited the room, the guard fell into step with them. Harry looked to his
barrister in question. "Don't worry," Davis said. "But technically he has to
follow us to the courtroom. Nothing will happen with me here, though." He said
in apparent offhandedness.
Harry just nodded as the three of them continued on their way. "Now Harry do
you understand what's about to happen," Davis asked him.
Harry looked up at the man with a sort of vague expression. "Sort of," he said
awkwardly and then blushed. "Not really."
Davis laughed and Patted Harry's shoulder. "It's alright. I would be more
surprised if you did know. It's very simple. We're going to go into the
courtroom and you're just going to stand there and look as innocent as
possible," he chuckled add some levity. "I'll handle most of it," he clarified.
"When the judge asks how you plead you will answer guilty or not guilty. That's
all. If you have questions or comments that you wish to direct to the court you
speak to me and we will decide if it's a good idea or not, and I will speak for
you. Once you enter your plea I will apply for bail and if the judge accepts it
you will pay some gold, sign some papers and go home until your trial."
"This is in the trial?" Harry asked seriously. He expected to go before the
court today and walk away innocent.
"No," Davis shook his head. "Both sides will need time to gather evidence,
build the case and select a jury. Thankfully, the British court system is a bit
more effective than the Americans. Barring issue, I estimate you should be free
to go in 3 to 4 weeks from now. We have a very good case on our hands, and it's
not our job to make it. The prosecution has the burden of proof, not us and we
have plenty of proof to the contrary."
When they reached the courtroom Harry saw Mr. Weasley standing outside the
large double doors. He smiled as Harry approached him "Harry my boy. It's good
to see you. I'm so happy you're all right. We all heard what happened but by
that time it was too late. Dumbledore said he been taken into custody." He
looked at the lawyer standing next to Harry. "This must be the chap Amos hired
for you. Arthur Weasley," he extended his hand and the two men shook hands.
Arthur turned back to Harry. "Amos wanted to be here, but he got caught up with
work. When this is over you can come back and stay with us."
Harry smiled happily. He had expected that, but it was still nice to hear.
"We should get going Mr. Potter," Davis said interjecting himself.
Harry nodded in agreement. "Are you coming Mr. Weasley?"
Arthur shook his head negatively. "I'm afraid not lad. I'm not a part of the
case and it's not open to the public, but I'll be under waiting and lending all
the moral support I can."
That made Harry smile again. He could tell that Mr. Weasley really wanted to be
in there and that meant a lot to him. "Lead the way the Mr. Hardman."
Davis Hardman nodded and held one of the large double doors open for Harry.
Stepping inside, Harry looked around as he made his way to the front. It was
nothing like the courtroom that Harry had seen in Dumbledore's pensive. This
was distinctly Muggle in style. The walls were varnished to look like wood and
on the far wall sat the large judge's bench with a witness stand next to it. On
the opposite side set a matching stand that a robed figure that Harry assumed
was an Auror, acting as bailiff. A few feet away, separated on opposite sides
of the room were two large tables that Harry assumed or for plaintiff and
defendant with a gallery of seats behind it. Attached to the wall behind the
judge's stand was a seal mounted to the wall, a large bronze disc with an M
superimposed over what looked like a wand and staff. It was indeed all very
Muggle which surprised Harry greatly.
Davis gestured for Harry to take the seat to the right of the room and moved
around the table to sit next to Harry. As he sat there Harry looked at the
other table. The prosecutor was a portly man with thinning hair and a cheap
suit. The man looked back at Harry with a measuring look as he shuffled his
file.
It was a few minutes later that a door off to the side opened and a man wearing
a red robe with an embroidered M on the breast, and the white powdered wig.
They all stood up as he entered the room and the bailiff called: "All Rise! His
Honor Judge Theodoric Barber…"
The judge reached his place and looked at the three figures in his courtroom
before he sat down with a gruff expression. "You may be seated," he said.
"Case?"
"The state of Britain and the Ministry of Magic versus Harry James Potter." The
bailiff informed the judge from where he stood.
The judge looked over something on his desk for a second before he spoke. "I
assume the defendant waives the reading of the charges?"
"The defendant does not waive the reading your honor," Davis responded.
The judge looked a bit put out upon hearing that, but nodded. The reading of
the charges was a formality that was usually unnecessary. The defendants
usually knew what they faced, having been informed by their lawyer.
"The defendant's charges are thus," the bailiff spoke again. "The defendant did
knowingly and willfully violate the statute of secrecy and the restriction on
underage sorcery. And in the process of this did murder a Muggle under the
legal age of adulthood."
Davis scowled as he heard the charges read. The prosecutor was being
theatrical. A simple reading of the charges consisted of a listing of the
charges brought to bear: violation of the statute of secrecy, violation of the
restriction of underage sorcery, and murder.
Hearing the last charge, the judge peered at Harry hard, and Harry tried not to
fidget under his gaze. "That is an extremely serious charge," Theodoric said
needlessly. "How does the defendant plead?"
Here Harry stood up and cleared his throat speaking as clearly as possible.
"The defendant pleads not guilty your honor."
"So, noted," Theodoric declared. "Under normal circumstances, I would ask what
the prosecution is seeking, but given the severity of the charges I must move
this up to be tried before the crown court of the Wizengamot."
Before Theodoric could call the session to close Davis inserted himself. "Your
honor, defense would like to petition for bail."
Here, the prosecution spoke for the first time. "Preposterous! You can't let a
murderer out on bail."
Davis glared at the prosecution. "As I recall, my client hasn't been convicted
of any crime yet, or have we gone back to declaring people guilty without
proof?" This made Harry look at his barrister in surprise but he quickly masked
it. Snape would be impressed, he thought to himself.
"The gentlemen will be civil," Theodoric said firmly. "Disregarding the
prosecutions outburst, I must admit that I find myself agreeing. On what
grounds do you ask for bail?"
"While we understand the severity of the allegations my client if also a 15-
year-old boy who poses no flight risk, and let us not forget that my client is
under age. Plus, should media discover that Harry Potter has been detained…"
Here he shook his head in dismay. "I would hate to see the backlash from that."
"To the contrary," the prosecutor objected. "Mr. Potter is most certainly a
flight risk your honor. It is a publicly known fact that the Potter's were
extremely wealthy. What's to stop him and leaving Britain altogether?"
"To go where" Davis actually laughed. "Everything he's ever had it here in
Britain."
Theodoric considered both arguments. In truth, he didn't consider Harry a
flight risk himself. "I find myself agreeing, but then where would he go?"
Here Davis grinned a bit slyly. "An excellent question. As it so happens Arthur
Weasley is on the other side of that door waiting for us. If it please the
court, we recommend that my client be remanded into the custody of Arthur
Weasley until the conclusion of the trial. Surely a Ministry employee can be
trusted."
"Agreed," the judge relented. "On the stipulation that Mr. Weasley agrees to
the terms. Bailiff, if you would bring Mr. Weasley into the courtroom please."
And so, they all waited briefly as Mr. Weasley was escorted into the courtroom.
"Mr. Weasley, it has been proposed to the court that Mr. Potter be remanded
into your custody until after his trial. Will you accept these terms?"
"Well of course!" Arthur exclaimed instantly." Harry had always been a friend
of the family."
Theodoric nodded. "So be it. Given the severity of the case, however, I am
setting bail to do some of the less than 30,000 Galleons. As such, I am
remanding this case to the Wizengamot - trial to commence in two weeks' time."
After that, the judge quickly closed the session. The first thing Harry did was
thank Davis. "Oh, don't think me yet Mr. Potter. We haven't won anything."
Harry nodded. He understood that, but his experience with the authorities
wasn't the best and he said as much. "No, but I don't have the best track
record with people who hold positions of power. As it was, I was expecting to
have my wand snapped and pay a visit Azkaban."
Davis chuckled. "Fair enough I suppose, but I wouldn't be much of a lawyer if I
let that happen. You won't actually be expelled or have your wand taken from
you until after the trial if you're convicted - which I won't see happen, but
you should be careful about using magic again before you get back to school.
"Harry nodded enthusiastically at the warning. He didn't want to do anything to
cause himself any more trouble. "Now, I will walk with you and Mr. Weasley down
to intake and get your papers sorted with you and return to the office and
prepare for the trial.
As they made their way to the intake office in the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement Harry passed the time speaking quietly with Mr. Weasley, mostly
about nothing at all until Mr. Weasley commented, "I'm extremely impressed that
Amos had such a good barrister on hand. It should make things easier." Harry
nodded in agreement.
He wanted to ask more in-depth questions. After he left school he was virtually
cut off from the outside world and he was curious to know what was going on. He
knew that the Ministry wasn't taking him seriously, but he had a hard time
believing the Dumbledore was doing nothing. He kept silent on the issue,
however, knowing that it could not be discussed in public. Not without making
matters worse.
And so, they went on. They made quick work of the paperwork and Harry's wand
was promptly returned to him and authorized the payment of his bail. As lawyer
and client made to say their farewells Harry interjected. "Mr. Hardman, I was
wondering if there was a matter that I could discuss with you very quickly…"
-x-
It was nearly 3 o'clock in the afternoon by the time Harry and Mr. Weasley left
the Ministry, but Harry was feeling good. Mr. Weasley handed him a length of
rope that Harry recognized as a portkey and told him to hold on. Harry grabbed
a little too tightly and felt his stomach flip when the magic took hold. God,
he hated magical travel.
Of course, given his experience with it in the past, it was understandable that
he had become cautious of it.
He found himself deposited - with the stumble - on what appeared to be an empty
residential street. The evening Sun shone with the right gold glow and being
silly into the summer Harry heard the distant chirp of cicadas in the trees, a
sound that would only grow louder as the evening progressed.
"Easy there lad," Mr. Weasley said with a chuckle as he steadied Harry. "They'd
never forgive me if you fell and crack you had on the concrete." Reaching into
his pocket he pulled out a strip of paper and handed it to Harry. "Read that
and destroy it." He told the boy.
Harry looked at the paper and then back to Mr. Weasley questioningly. Arthur
just gestured for him to watch.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at number 12
Grimmauld Place, London.
Harry looked up and watched as two of the townhouses seemed to separate,
pushing themselves apart and making room for a third building that seemed to
pop up out of thin air in a manner that reminded Harry a bit of a bouncy castle
being inflated.
He looked at the older man questioningly and Mr. Weasley gestured for him to
get rid of this of the paper before he answered. Meanwhile, Harry looked back
in the paper and shrugged. He crumpled it up into a ball and popped it into his
mouth, swallowing it quickly. Arthur looked at Harry entertained." That's one
way to do it I suppose." He said before returning to the matter at hand. "It's
hidden under the Fidelus Charm."
He knew the charm of course. At least in the abstract; it was the one that was
supposed to hide his parents from Voldemort. So, of course, he knew it. It was
one of the first things that he researched when he found the Hogwarts library
in his first year. Madam Pence had disapproved naturally, but he thought that
maybe she had taken pity on him and he had asked where he could find it. "Who's
house is it?" He asked curiously.
"Your Godfather's, but he is allowed Dumbledore and the Order to use it.
Dumbledore is the secret keeper."
That, of course, being the second time that he heard the term, he asked the
obvious question. "You said that before, but what is this Order?"
Now Arthur shushed Harry. "We'll discuss it later my boy," he said quickly.
"For now, we should get inside."
The brushoff really wrinkled Harry's nerves, but he knew that Mr. Weasley
didn't mean to insult by it so you let it drop. He would make sure, however,
that he did find out what he wanted to know. For the time being, however, he
acquiesced and followed Mr. Weasley up to the front the house. "Now be quiet,
we don't want to wake her."
Harry had no idea what he was talking about but resolved to stay quiet.
The interior of the house was not what he was expecting. The whole house seemed
dark and dreary, and there was easily an inch of dust that covered the
surfaces. It was as if a dark cloud had permanently settled over the house.
"Bit dusty, isn't it?"
"Oh, I imagine that Molly will have you lot cleaning soon enough," Arthur
chuckled.
"Is that you Arthur dear?" Molly Weasley's voice sounded from somewhere deeper
in the house. Harry heard multiple footsteps now that sounded like they were
sending a set of stairs. If he had to guess from the number of them and how
loud they were he would guess that it was a whole Weasley clan.
Harry was right of course. Mrs. Weasley materialized in the vestibule of the
house followed by a gaggle of Weasley's and Hermione. "Oh, Harry dear!" Molly
exclaimed excitedly, her voice tinged with relief. Harry smiled and before he
knew it he found himself in the arms of Molly Weasley experiencing a crushing
hug. "It's so good to see you!" Harry mumbled but was unable to respond
properly with his face buried in Mrs. Weasley's bosom.
They must've heard him though because Ron laughed in response. "Let the man go,
mum," he urged her. "He has to breathe eventually." Mrs. Weasley scowled behind
a smile but had the decency to blush and release Harry. "It's good to see you
mate." He slapped Harry on the shoulder.
After a round of semi-boisterous greetings in which the twins made terrible
lewd puns about Harry being a jailbird and Hermione did her best impression of
Molly Weasley when she hugged him, crying about how terrible it all was and
they couldn't possibly charge him - to which he didn't have the heart to dash
her just yet. Molly pushed them all down into the kitchen. "You must be
starving dear. I doubt they could do anything at all. I'm just doing dinner
now, but we'll get you a stack."
It was true now that he thought about it. Harry hadn't eaten in a good day and
a half and Mrs. Weasley's reminder that he needed to eat reminded him of just
how hungry he was. So, he let himself be pushed down into the very spacious
kitchen, and set down at the end of a large wooden table. The chair creaking
slightly under his weight.
The kitchen smelled of stew, and it brought a smile to Harry's face to be there
surrounded by his family. It felt cozy and warm. He hadn't realized how much he
had missed it until then. Molly sat a large sandwich down in front of him and
motioned for him to eat. "That should hold you over for a couple of hours.
We're having guests tonight."
That caught Harry's attention. "Oh, who are we expecting?" He asked
nonchalantly. Given that it wasn't the Borrow Harry wagered that it wasn't a
family gathering; and he wanted to know who was involved in this Order
business.
"Oh, several people: Alastair Moody, and Tonks - you don't know her, but that's
Sirius's cousin. Halfblood, lovely girl… Bit clumsy though." Harry's brow
furrowed. He tried to grasp what her blood status had to do with anything, but
then he thought about it. If she was Sirius's cousin then it actually said a
lot if he understood the history of the Black Family. "Then there's Dung
Fletcher," Harry could practically hear the scowl in her voice and the name. He
wondered what was wrong with the man. "Hestia Jones and possibly Kingsley
Shacklebolt, lovely man, very tall…"
"So, what was he like being in the Ministry holding cell Harry," Fred asked
suggestively." Did you make any friends?"
Harry quirked a brow questioningly before answering. He had dealt with the
twins long enough that he thought he knew what Fred was up to. "Why," he asked
in mock curiosity - wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You looking for a
friend? I do like redheads."
"OH!" The room exploded, filling with laughter and slight giggles from the
other Weasley children. Hermione as always looked slightly disapproving as did
Mrs. Weasley, but he noticed that even Arthur had a slight smirk. Nobody
noticed the youngest Weasley at the end of the table blushing as bright red as
a Christmas tree topper.
"Fred Weasley, Harry Potter! There's no need to be rude," Molly chastised them
halfheartedly already knowing that it would do no good.
"I have been doing a bit of research," Hermione piped up attending to derail
the conversation.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course, she has…" He mumbled.
Hermione shot him a glare and continued. "They can't punish you in cases of
self-defense. All you have to do is prove that you were defending yourself."
Harry smiled at the bushy haired girl. "I know Hermione, and I intend to do
just that." He didn't have the heart to tell her that he was also being charged
with murder, but if he could prove that he'd been attacked than the murder
charge be dropped. There was no need to worry her unnecessarily.
"Indeed," Arthur said jovially. "Amos Diggory is provided Harry with quite a
talented barrister from what I saw."
"Oh really, who is that dear?" Molly Weasley asked her husband from her place
at the stove.
"Davis Hardman from Wolfram and Hart," Harry supplied. "Supposedly a very good
firm, at least according to him," Harry said dryly. The room grew a bit quiet
at Harry's announcement. "Have you heard of them, "he asked.
"Oh yes, there's quite the reputation," Arthur answered. "Defended a few Death
Eaters during the last war, Lucius Malfoy among them."
They all took a moment to absorb that. It was slightly worrying that the firm
that was representing Harry had also defended the likes of Lucius Malfoy and
his ilk. "Well," Harry said finally. "I can't say that I am pleased with that
information, but if Amos recommended them then they can't be all bad, can they?
Besides, it says a lot that they successfully defended Mr. Malfoy."
After that, the conversation dulled slightly. Harry ate his sandwich and
listened to the conversation around him. The twins whispering to themselves
about some project or prank or other, Hermione who was nagging Ron about his
homework and Ron who looked distinctly uninterested. He was aware of Ginny
watching him at the end of the table but paid it no mind. He wondered briefly
if she would ever get past her infatuation. Overall, he just enjoyed the din.
"Harry…" It was a whisper but they all heard it.
All the conversation around the table halted and Harry looked up at the source
of the voice, and a grin bloomed across his face. He stood up from the table,
food forgotten and made his way to his Godfather. The two men hugged each other
tightly for a long moment before they broke apart and Sirius looked over Harry
himself as if searching for injuries or reassuring himself that the boy was
real.
"It's good to see you, Sirius."
"You too son," Sirius whispered. "You too"
After that, Harry returns to his food at the urging of Mrs. Weasley. Sirius
just smiled and followed suit sitting next to Harry. They didn't say anything,
simply content to be in each other's company, but eventually, Harry asked the
question that had been bothering him. "So, is anyone going to tell me about
this Order of the Phoenix?"
Harry wasn't surprised when Molly immediately threw up a fuss. "Now Harry dear,
you're too young. That's adult conversation and we shouldn't discuss it without
Dumbledore's permission."
Harry immediately scowled. He knew she had the best intentions, but he didn't
appreciate her methods. As far as he was concerned he was an adult and had
always been.
Sirius naturally jumped to Harry's defense. "Now Molly, shouldn't he know
something."
Molly immediately scowled, irritation evident. "He's too young Sirius and some
of that information might be dangerous."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm not suggesting that we tell him the orders every
secret Molly. But the boy has a right to know something, and besides the fact,
he's the one that Voldemort is after. The one that was attacked."
"All the more reason not to tell him. The more he knows the more danger he
could be in."
"Quite the opposite actually. The less he knows the more likely he is to run
off half-cocked and do something stupid." Harry knew that he should be offended
by this, but privately he had to admit that Sirius was right. In his heart
headedness, he had run off on little to no information with the best of
intentions but still halfcocked.
Molly hated that Sirius was right and that she couldn't really argue the point,
but like any protective mother, she stuck to her belief and desire to protect
Harry herself. "He's still too young Sirius. I won't allow it."
Harry raised an eyebrow himself hearing this. "Don't you think I should get a
say in this? I would like to know at least something is being done to fight
Voldemort. After all the Ministry's done for two months is belittle and slander
me."
Molly's face admittedly softened when she heard Harry's argument, but she was
still adamantly against it. "Now Harry dear, you're only 15 and you shouldn't
have to deal with these things."
"But he does," Sirius jumped back into the conversation growing irritated. "And
I don't appreciate the implication that you won't allow something. You're not
his mother."
Molly stiffened hearing this, her hackles raising. "Well, I'm the closest thing
he's got!" She snapped and from there it began to devolve.
"He's got me!
"And you are Guardian any more than I am!"
By this point tensions were high and Sirius actually stood up, placing himself
nose to nose with Molly placing himself in her personal space. "Arthur, I
suggest you remind your wife," he said through gritted teeth in a hiss. "… Who
he is speaking to and where she is."
By now the entire room was silent and waiting with bated breath. The only sound
in the room was a boiling pot.
"Actually, "Arthur interjected and surprised everyone. "Neither of you is his
Guardian, I am." And it was true. Temporary though it was, Arthur had been
appointed Harry's guardian until after the trial. "And I think it would be a
good idea to keep Harry informed."
Everyone looked a little shocked that Arthur had not sided with his wife, but
Molly looked as if she had been slapped and backpedaled putting some distance
between her and Sirius. "But Arthur…" Her voice was a little quieter now. A
rarity for Molly Weasley.
"Like Sirius said," he amended quickly. "Nothing too vital, but if we tell him
now we could avoid future complications."
Seeing her defeat, Molly huffed and surrendered the issue. "Fine, but the other
children don't have to be here and I do have a say over that. Everyone else out
of the room." She began to usher the other children of the room.
"Hey now," one of the twins piped up. "We're 17, you can't make us leave."
This was entirely the wrong thing to say. Molly's face clouded with fury and
she strode up to the two boys and grabbed him by the ears, making them squeal
and yell as she pulled them to their feet. "17 or not you are not members of
the Order, and you are still my children!" She led them out of the room by the
ears, stopping only long enough to turn down the pot.
Once the kitchen was empty with the exception of Sirius, Arthur and Harry
himself Arthur spoke. "All right Harry," he said with a sigh. He knew he was
going to pay for this later. "What do you want to know?"
With that, they begin to fill Harry in them what they could. They told him what
the Order of the Phoenix was, what it did and a bit of its history. "But what
are we actually doing against Voldemort right now?"
"Well, we can't say too much, but even if we could there's not too much to say
right now. Both sides are in a bit of a holding pattern, building their forces
in preparing for when the other makes a move. Sort of the calm before the
storm."
Harry nodded understanding this. "So, you're sort of a resistance group then,
but isn't there more to it; don't wizards have soldiers or military of some
sort?"
Sirius nodded. "We do, going all the way back to the Knights of the Round Table
but they can't do anything until the ministry chooses to recognize the threat.
"And with Cornelius Fudge an office, he's either content enough to sit on his
hands or too scared to actually admit that there is a threat..."
They wrapped up soon after that as dinner drew closer. As the three got up to
leave the kitchen Harry turned to Sirius. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes
in private?"
"Sure thing son." The two quickly found themselves in the library, which was
conveniently located behind a portrait of Sirius's mother Walburga Black. Harry
took a moment to appreciate the library. It wasn't nearly as large as the
Hogwarts library, but Harry was sure that if he were to yell that his voice
would echo around the vaulted ceilings. "Most extensive family library in
Britain," Sirius said noticing Harry looking around. "Next only to possibly the
Potter's or the Longbottom's." The two found a couple of comfy looking chairs
in one of the alcoves and sat down before Sirius asked the question. "So,
what's up?"
Harry laughed a bit awkwardly. "Oh boy, if that isn't the most loaded question
of the day I don't know what is."
"Well it's not like I'm going anywhere," Sirius said humorously in self-
flagellation.
So, Harry began talking. He talked and he talked and he talked. He told Sirius
about what happened on Magnolia Crescent, growing agitated as he got to the
part about his cousin. "They want to charge me with murder!" He exclaimed. "I
know I didn't kill that bastard, and I know I'll probably get off of it but
still!"
Sirius's eyes grew dark as he listened to his godson vent. He kept up a good
façade but Sirius could see the edges of panic on Harry's face. He placed his
hand on Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "Harry, I will never let that happen. I
will not let them take you to that place." He didn't have to clarify as to what
place he meant. Harry swallowed a gulp and continued his story.
He also told Sirius about the encounter with his mother and what happened
there. His voice cracked a little as he got to the part about her sacrificing
herself again to protect him. Sirius did not interrupt because he knew that
Harry had to get through it.
"… And they expect me to save them," Harry raged at the public's treatment of
him. "They expect me to save them and yet they turn their backs on me, belittle
me and call me names every time something happens or I do something that they
don't like. And the worst part of it is I will save them. I will because it's
what I do, and even if it wasn't we all know what's going to happen. Mrs.
Weasley and Dumbledore can pretend all they like but we all know it's going be
Voldemort or me in the end."
Sirius listened to his godson with sadness in his heart because he knew it was
true. He knew that in the end, it would come down to his godson or Voldemort.
At the moment, however, he was lost in his own thoughts remembering the
prophecy that James and Lily had told him and trying to decide whether he
should tell Harry. Dumbledore didn't want Harry to know, insisting that Harry
have a childhood but as he listened to Harry it became readily apparent that
childhood was over.
Harry did not tell Sirius the decision that he'd come to, but he was honest
with the man. "I need to fight - to learn how to fight and I need to do it now.
Voldemort not going to wait for me and he already has several decades of
experience on me. I intend to survive and to do that I need to get stronger, I
need to get smarter and more powerful."
Seeing his godson's resolve, Sirius made his decision. "… And you will." He
said ardently. "I will do everything I can to help you, and you have a treasure
trove of knowledge right in front of you." He gestured at the library. With the
obvious exception, anything and everything he had ever done had been for Harry.
His loyalty had always been to his godson and to James Potter before that.
Dumbledore was just a means to that end.
Hearing his Godfather supported him, Harry smiled gratefully. "Thank you, and I
will take you up on that."
Sirius cringed slightly hearing his godson's thanks. "Well, before you thank me
there's something you should know. And once I tell you the first thing you
should do is use the library and find books on shielding your mind. It's called
the art of Occlumency."
Having said his piece, and made it in kind Sirius disobeyed Dumbledore and told
Harry the prophecy. Harry sat stoically as Sirius recited it to him, absorbing
and mulling over the words. Afterward, the two fell silent for a time. "Well,
I'm not surprised. A little angry. I asked Dumbledore years ago why Voldemort
was after me and he refused to answer, but I'm not surprised in the slightest.
It makes an oddly horrific sort of sense to me honest."
"As I said," Sirius interjected. "Knowing the prophecy, we should begin work on
shielding your mind."
Harry nodded in agreement.
The two talked for a while longer before Sirius called a halt to it. "We should
go down and get dinner before they launch a search party."
Harry took the non-subtle hint and the two got up to leave the library and
return to their family downstairs. Tomorrow would start a brand-new day for
Harry Potter.
Chapter End Notes
     And here we have Chapter 2. Hope you like it.
     Also an Update on Pairs. I'm currently leaning toward Harry/Cedric/
     Cho, but I've got a spec of an Idea for Harry/Ron/Ginny too, but
     nothing is fixed. If you have a preference or an idea for a Different
     pair feel free to leave it in a Review
     As I've previously stated, I do proof things myself, but I don't
     catch Everything. One should never Beta their own work. If some
     reader is interested in taking the job, contact me.
***** Dreams, Fears, and Secret Meeings *****
Chapter Notes
     It took a bit longer than anticipated, but here is Chapter 3 Finally.
     I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did writing it. Also, just
     want to give a quick shout-out to DZ2 for his Help with the Prophecy
     in this chapter. I made a Few edit's to it, but that's mostly all
     him. I'm Rubbish with Prophecy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Night of the Dementor Attack – Lovegood Residence
Xenophilius Lovegood sat at his desk working on his feature article for the
next week's issue of The Quibbler.Most people dismissed it as hockey or a
tabloid, but they had a loyal readership; and besides that, it gave him a voice
amongst the din of rabble and state media that was The Daily Prophet.In truth,
that was precisely what he loved about as well. Because people thought it was a
rag he could say what he wanted without repercussion. More than that, however,
his daughter loved it and that was worth its weight in gold.
His attention was drawn away from the paper when the monitoring charms around
his daughter's room went off, sending a tingle down his spine. Abandoning his
desk immediately he made his way to her bedroom and opened the door quietly to
look in on her.
Luna Lovegood sat up in her bed with her arms around her legs and her face
buried in her knees. Xenophilius heard the soft sniffles and knew that his
daughter had been crying. He immediately closed the distance between them and
wrapped his thirteen-year-old daughter in his arms. "Daddy…" She cried and
buried her face in his neck muffling the sobs.
"It's okay poppet," he said in a soothing whisper as he rubbed calming circles
over her back. "Dreams again?" He asked her already knowing the answer. Some
people coveted the power of divination, but Xenophilius cursed the Powers That
Be for giving his daughter the power of premonition. To give such a young child
the ability was frightening. Half the time she didn't understand her visions,
and the other half he just seemed to know things, but because she had no point
of reference for these things she explained them in a way that she could
understand which often alienated her from those her own age.
As he guessed she would, Luna drew away from her father and nodded meekly.
Xenophilius 's heart broke when she did because there was precious little that
he could do for her. "I'm sorry sweetie. Let's go get you a glass of warm milk
and get you back to bed."
Without waiting for a response, Xenophilius gently guided his daughter out of
bed and down the stairs toward the kitchen. He sat her at the table and went
about fixing her glass. They didn't talk about much, and what they did talk
about with inconsequential.
When Luna was sufficiently distracted Xenophilius retrieved a vial from the
locked cabinet above the counter and put a few drops of it into her milk before
giving it to her. The potion was harmless, a calming drought and a mild
sleeping potion that would allow his daughter to rest for the rest of the
night.
When she finished her milk Xenophilius took her back to her room and laid her
gently on her bed, and kissed her good night. "Pleasant dreams for the rest of
the night sweetie," he whispered to her.
He sat with her and stroked her hair silently until he knew she was asleep
before he stood up. As he left he retrieved a blue journal from her bedside
table that had a Quick Quotes Quill sitting atop it.
Luna's dream journal. Because of her gift Luna didn't always remember the thing
she saw or said, and so at night they would keep a journal by her bed with a
Quick Quotes Quill to capture anything that she said in her sleep.
Journal in hand, Xenophilius exited the room and returned to his desk. The
article forgotten, Xenophilius turned to the newest filled page looking for
anything that might have been written on it. Sadly, there had been.
Retrieving a blank piece of parchment, Xenophilius grabbed a Quill and began
transcribing his daughter's words:
                    "A lost King rises when a Savior falls
             A throne of greatness awaits him within ancient halls
   The Wolf shall bare his throat to him while the Ram shall offer his heart
       And together shall they tear the chains that bind the King apart
      A crown of thorns atop his head and a heart of gold he holds inside
      Shall grant him the strength to come out and make foes run and hide
               Yet beware the wolf lest the stag become the prey
                          Lest only Death win the Day
                     A lost king rises when a savior falls
He read over the words again and studied them. As with most of his daughter's
prophecies, he didn't understand, and yet a shiver passed over him unbidden.
Shrugging it off, he picked up the parchment and went to the fireplace.
With a flick of the wrist, he summoned his wand from its holster and ignited
the fire. Taking a fistful of Floo powder he threw it into the flames. "Wetzel
Ballimore!" He stuck his head into the flames. "Wet, where are you, you clot
pole!"
A man in his early forties wondered into the room on the other side mumbling
tiredly to himself as he did so. "Xenophilius, you twat," he said kneeling in
front of the hearth in his nightgown. "What could you possibly want at this
ungodly hour?"
Xenophilius at least looked slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry old man, but it's
important. Can I come through?"
Wet grumbled to himself and stood up, but nodded. "Come on then!"
A few minutes later Xenophilius was standing in Wetzel's front room. "I really
am sorry, but I thought I better give this to you." He handed Wetzel the
parchment that he copied.
Wetzel was about ten years younger than Xenophilius, but he had been a good
friend of the family when Xeno's dear wife had worked with the Unspeakables.
They weren't as close as they were then; Wet had always been closer friends
with his wife, but they kept in touch, especially given Luna's abilities.
Wetzel looked over the parchment and then back at Xenophilius. "Another
prophecy from Luna," he asked unnecessarily. They both knew it was. That was
the only reason that Xeno would bother him at such a late hour. Xeno nodded
anyway. Wetzel whistled expressively. "This one's a doozy." Thankfully, most of
the prophecies given turned out to be duds, but if this one turned out to be
true… He would lock himself in the vault until it was over. "Considering that I
can only think of one Savior I would hate to think about the fallout from this
one."
Xenophilius could only nod in agreement.
                                      -x-
Grimmauld Place – The Next Night, After the Arraignment
Arthur and Molly Weasley were about to turn in for the night - having claimed
one of the guest rooms within the old Black House. Given their association with
Harry Potter and the return of Voldemort, after consulting with Albus
Dumbledore, it was decided that it would be safer for the family to relocate to
the old house for their safety. It wasn't ideal, and they often returned to the
Burrow during the day for various reasons, but their nights were spent there.
Molly was not fond of the idea. She did not like the idea of her children being
exposed to the dark magic and legacy of the Black family. Her family's safety,
however, took precedent over her misgivings, and so when Albus had come to the
with the suggestion she had jumped at it, thanking Sirius profusely for days
afterward.
Now, however, as she prepared herself for bed she wondered if she had made the
right decision. Well, that wasn't true. She knew that she had made the right
decision and she would make it over again, but her temper simmered dangerously
just below the surface as she replayed the confrontation with Sirius earlier
that night over in her head.
She knew that he loved Harry. She had never doubted that. It was clear just in
the way the man looked at Harry. The utter adoration for his godson was clear
to anyone who cared to look, but she often wondered about the man's competency
and his ability to be a proper guardian to Harry. Not that she would ever say
as much, but the man had spent thirteen years in the worst place on earth.
She often wondered, as awful as it was to say, how much of Harry that Sirius
was seeing and how much of it was James Potter. She held no grudge against
Sirius for that. The Death of a best friend was traumatic in the most ideal
circumstance, but to have that friend murdered and then compound that with
Azkaban…
She huffed in frustration and turned away, exiting the bathroom. She went to
her side of the bed and silently climbed into it, not saying a word to Arthur
and turning onto her side with her back to him.
The two remained silent for a time, Molly stubbornly ignoring her husband and
Arthur on his side of the bed pretending to read a book. The tension in the
room was obvious, and after several minutes Arthur sighed in exasperation.
"Molly, don't be like this," he heaved a sigh and closed his book. "We don't go
to bed angry remember?" Molly remained stubbornly silent. "I'm not going to
apologize, "Arthur responded to the silence. "I made the right call."
Molly remained resolute briefly before her resolve broke and she flipped onto
her back exasperated, glaring at Arthur. "How can you say that!" She snapped.
"He is barely fifteen years old. He is not ready to face a war, even if he
thinks he is. He should have a chance to be a child."
Arthur remained silent throughout the whole diatribe, allowing his wife to
vent. "Yes, he should and I don't argue that, but the fact is that he won't."
He knew that the truth would hurt his wife. They both cared for Harry as if he
were their own child, but it was time that she heard some very hard truths. "As
much as we may hate to think it, let alone say it, Harry's childhood is over."
He said in a hushed tone. "Fifteen or not, ready or not, war is inevitable and
Voldemort will come for Harry. We all know what this is going come down to,
even if we don't say it, and shielding him from that isn't going to help him."
He could see his wife's face in the dark and it hurt him to see that pain on
her face, even if it was immediately masked by outrage. "I don't believe you!
Would you say that if it were one of our children, if it were Ron or God
forbid, Ginny? And I suppose that means that we should just give up and allow
Fred and George to join the order as well?"
Molly was being hyperbolic, but he did not point that out. If he said anything
about that it would only make matters worse. "Molly," he said with a since of
finality. "This is Harry's war. Whether he fights or not he's still in danger,
and the best way to protect him from that danger is to make sure that he's
aware of it. We both know what he's like. Would you rather him running off
half-cocked?"
He hesitated to say what he was about to say next, but he steeled himself and
took the plunge. "And yes, as much as you might hate me for it, I would do the
same thing for our boys and more so for Ginny. As much as we want to protect
them, they are going to be involved hip deep in this simply because they are
Harry's friends, his family… Unless you want to take them home and not let them
associate with Harry?" Even then, they would still see each other in school.
Molly fell back into silence, a swirl of emotion. She hated all of this, she
hated it so much. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, refusing to cry.
She hated it. She hated the war, she hated that her family was being torn
apart, she hated it all, but most of all she hated that Arthur was right. She
hated that he was right and there was nothing that she could do about it. She
wanted to take her children, all of them including Harry and hide them away,
but she knew Arthur was right. Every fiber in her being screamed at her to do
that - take the children and run away, but she knew she couldn't and she wanted
to scream in rage at it.
Trapped in her impotent rage she did the only thing that was available to her
and clung to Arthur and cried. She cried until she thought that she couldn't
cry anymore. When that ended she looked back up at her husband, eyes red and
puffy, but she didn't get a chance to say anything. Arthur pulled her to him,
hugging her tightly and combing his fingers through her hair. "I know, I know
darling, but if we want to help them then the best thing we can do is to be
there for them."
They lay there in silence for ages before Molly finally broke it with barely a
whisper. "I just realized something."
Arthur quirked a brow. "Oh, what's that?"
"You used his name…"
That brought Arthur to a halt and he thought over the conversation again in his
head. "I suppose I did, didn't I?" He realized, shocked with himself. "Imagine
that…"
Molly hummed in agreement and drew herself up to straddle her husband's waist.
Arthur looked up at her in shock and surprise. "Molly, what are you doing!"
She just grinned. "Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out," she said teasingly
leaning down and drawing him into a protracted kiss.
Arthur looked at his wife, still in shock for a moment before his face broke
out into a lopsided grin and he chuckled. "Oh, my…"
                                      -x-
 
Ministry of Magic- The Next Morning
Percy Weasley stepped out of the floo expertly, with practiced ease and grace
with a tray of two paper cups in hand, a cup of Earl Grey for the Minister and
a latte for himself. He took a minute and just stood there in place with his
eyes closed listening to the den of activity around him in the Ministry lobby.
No one really understood it, but he really loved the humdrum and chaos of
Ministry life. Even at that early hour, the lobby was abuzz with activity. He
thought briefly that maybe it was a byproduct of growing up in a house with
nine people in close quarters. The quiet made him edgy.
He was shaken from his musings by someone behind him. "Oui, shift yourself,
Weasley!"
He snapped back to himself, looking behind him on instinct. "Yes, terribly
sorry…" He shook off his musings with a shrug and continued on his way.
On his way, he made a mandatory stop at the security desk and handed over his
wand to be logged. He was probably the only one in the entire Ministry that
actually worked there that still did that, but it was the procedure. The guard
barely even acknowledged him - going through the motions as he had done a
billion times.
Percy paid him no mind beyond muttering a cursory thank you and continued on
his way toward the Minister's office. And wasn't that just the most
unbelievable thing? He had always had high ambitions for himself; something
beyond being known as simply another Weasley. He had always intended to work
his way up the ladder, but he had only just started working at the Ministry
just over a year ago and he was already Under-Secretary to the Minister.
Oh, he wasn't stupid. Given the chaos of the summer and the ensuing political
upheaval, Percy knew - or at least suspected that it had something to do with
his family and their Association with Dumbledore, but Percy didn't want
anything to do with that. Still, he knew how the game was played and he wasn't
above using the situation to his advantage.
The Minister's office was a large room that contained three different sections,
two separate office areas, and the main area. The largest office belonged to
the Minister himself. The second office belonged to Dolores Umbridge, the
Senior Under-Secretary, and his immediate superior. His desk was in the main
area just next to the door.
The truth is that most people didn't think much of him beyond a glorified
assistant, but his job was probably one of the hardest in the Ministry. He kept
the Minister's schedule running smoothly and handled the day-to-day duties of
the Minister's office as well as tending to the needs of the Minister himself
throughout the day.
When he entered the office, it appeared to be empty, but the detection ward
over the office told him that the Minister was in his office. So, Percy sat his
latte on his desk and went to the door of the Minister's office. He knocked
lightly but didn't wait to be invited in. "Good morning Minister," he said
brightly as he sat the Ministers Earl Grey on his desk.
Cornelius Fudge looked up from the papers on his desk distractedly and waved at
Percy in a slightly dismissive gesture. "Oh, good morning Weatherby," before
returning his attention to the forms. "There is a packet of forms in my outbox
just there that I'll need to be copied several times. One needs to be sent to
the Hogwarts Board of Governors, another sent to the headmaster at Hogwarts,
and a third filed in the records archive."
Percy clenched his teeth when the Minister mispronounced his name again but
held his tongue as he always did, and smiled tightly. "Of course, Minister." He
retrieved the forms from the outbox on the desk. "Is there anything else
Minister," he asked before turning to leave.
"Yes, actually there is Weatherby." Cornelius looked at Percy directly as he
said this. "See that those papers are handled personally."
Percy nodded firmly. "I'll see it done Minister."
Percy returned to his desk. Taking his seat, he took a sip of his latte and
skimmed the forms that the Minister wanted copied and sent out. As he perused
them his brow traveled further and further into his hairline as he read:
                                        
   ... In the event that the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore et al is unable to provide a suitable and qualified
candidate for the position of Defense against the Dark Arts it is the decision
   in this body, in conjunction with the Ministry of Magic that the Ministry
               itself shall appoint a candidate of its choosing.
After every line that said Defense against the Dark Arts there was a blank line
             with the signature of Dolores Umbridge in its place.
Upon assuming the position of Defense against the Dark Arts said candidate will
 proceed to evaluate the merits of the current curriculum and shall recommend
changes to be considered by this body upon the completion of the current term.
The candidate shall act autonomously outside the authority of the Headmaster of
Hogwarts and the Board of Governors in consultation with the Minister of Magic…
 
It went on like that for several pages, but Percy paid it no mind.
What in the name of… Was the ministry interfering at Hogwarts? He didn't know
how he felt about that. It didn't really affect him anymore, granted, but at
the same time, it had never ever been done before. It went against 1000 years
of tradition, not to mention the Hogwarts charter itself.
It was true that the Board of Governors had broad authority over Hogwarts and
its functions, but that had been set down in the charter by Helga Hufflepuff
herself before she died as the last founder of Hogwarts. It was thought to be
unanimously agreed, however, that no outside body had any influence over the
school.
With a scowl of consternation, Percy pulled his wand and quickly made the
copies required, and set out to deliver them as he had been ordered, even if he
didn't like it.
It was nearly an hour before he returned. Someone from the budget office and
stopped him to talk about possibly increasing the budget for the Obliviation
department. Apparently, the department was complaining about being overworked
and wanted more gold allocated to them so they could recruit more. Percy shook
his head in exasperation. Some wizards just did not understand the concept of
secrecy it seemed.
Some hours later he was interrupted from his work again. A portly man with
rimless spectacles came into the office, bypassing Percy completely on his way
to the Minister's office. "Excuse me, but can I help you?" Percy called out
quickly, rising to his feet and stopping the man's advance.
The man halted about halfway through the office and turned to look at Percy
with a scowl. He did, however, move back to the desk. "My name is Dorian Pavel,
and I need to discuss business with the Minister himself."
He paid the man's tone no mind as he withdrew the Ministers appoint book from
the desk, he was used to such attitudes. He experienced them long before coming
to work at the Ministry. "I don't see a Mr. Pavel, sir. If you'd like to make
an appointment I would be happy to assist you," he said overtly polite.
This appeared to be the wrong thing to say. Mr. Pavel blustered angrily, his
face turning slightly pink in the process. "Nonsense! I will not make an
appointment! You tell Minister Fudge that Prosecutor Pavel is here and must see
him immediately."
"I'm afraid I can't do that Sir. However, as I said, if you'd like to make an
appointment I can accommodate you. I can schedule you for the first thing
tomorrow morning."
Dorian looked as if he was about to have an aneurysm and tossed his hands up in
frustration before he turned and tried to make his way to the office again.
Percy hurried to his feet, grabbing his wand. "Mr. Pavel! I can't allow you to
do that. If you don't stop I will have to call security, and I will stun you to
detain you."
The prosecutor whipped around, his eyes burning with rage now. "Now you listen
here drone…"
"Goodness me," came a softly simpering voice defusing the situation. "What in
Merlin's name is going on here?" Dolores Umbridge had come out of her office,
Percy assumed, drawn by the noise. Both men went silent. "Come now boys,
something was going on…"
Percy cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. The woman always made
him a bit uncomfortable. "I apologize ma'am. Mr. Dorian Pavel here wants to see
the Minister, but he doesn't have an appointment. He claims he's a prosecutor."
Umbridge's eyes lit up upon hearing Percy's explanation, and she clapped
lightly almost as if she were excited. "That's perfectly all right Mr. Weasley.
Mr. Pavel is a close friend. He's expected."
Percy privately scowled hearing this. The man was a personal friend, and so he
got to go around the rules and see the minister whenever it wanted? That kind
of preferential treatment had always bothered Percy.
Dorian spared Percy a glance and smirked at him before turning his attention
back to Umbridge. "Thank you, madam. Your underling was being quite unhelpful."
Umbridge laughed lightly and waved the comment off. "Now we mustn't be too hard
on the boy. He was only doing his job, and he is loyal." Her voice diminished
as they entered the Minister's office closing the door behind them.
Percy returned to his desk and his work, scowl still present on his face.
"What the bloody hell do you mean complication?!" He heard the Minister's voice
a few minutes later. He heard what he assumed was Dorian's voice, muffled,
significantly lower. "What do you mean Harry Potter has a barrister!" Fudges
voice again. Percy raises eyebrow hearing this. "The boys worse than a Muggle-
born, he's been here for four years and learned practically nothing. Where
could he possibly find a lawyer, and who the bloody hell is it!" The voices
went quiet again. Percy wondered if maybe he should inform them that the
Silencing wards weren't active, but he was still burned about Dorian Pavel.
"God dammit! Well, surely we still have him on the murder charge!"
This shocked Percy greatly. Were they trying to charge Harry Potter with
murder? Granted, he didn't know the boy very well. They weren't close, but he
had met the boy and dealt with him at Hogwarts a time or two. Plus, he was
friends with his brother Ron. A bit of a troublemaker maybe, but not a
murderer.
He knew what the papers were saying, and he wasn't sure what to believe in
regard to that, but whatever was going on with the boy, Harry wasn't a bad
person.
Being a bit bolder than people might expect of him, Percy grabbed his wand and
went over to the filing cabinet near the door. One the good things about being
the twins brother was that he'd seen a lot of what Fred and George could do,
and he would never admit it out loud, some of it had its uses. With this in
mind, Percy cast a spell on himself. "Lupinotuum Audiunt…" He whispered and
pretended to search for a file while he listened.
"… Well, what if we did like…" Fudge was saying.
Dorian shot him down before he could finish. "I don't think that will work this
time Sir. Even if it weren't Harry Potter that only worked last time because of
the chaos in the aftermath of the war. With the fact that this is Harry Potter
there would be a public outcry."
"Well, the boy is a public menace. Something has to be done to silence him.
We've done what we can but even that won't last so long."
"Gentlemen," Dolores's grating voice cut into the conversation. "I think you're
missing the most obvious thing. The boy is, as you say, a public menace and as
it stands, for the time being, we have the public. Charge the boy as a public
menace. By Morgana, charge him with insurrection if not outright treason
against The Ministry."
Whatever Percy had been expecting to hear that was not it. He stood there for a
moment with his eyes wide in horror. Even if the boy was lying, that was
extreme. Unable to hear anymore, he canceled the spell and hurriedly returned
to his desk. He sat there numbly for several moments. Was this really what he
had signed up for? A ministry where the Minister himself and the senior Under-
Secretary would willingly slander and try to send a 15-year-old boy to prison?
Unable to focus on his work any further, Percy decided not to. Reaching into
his robe pocket he pulled a tiny black book from it. Opening into a blank page
he inked a Quill and began to write in it. It was a two-way Journal; the
message would appear in the companion.
                                        
                        Need to get out of the office.
                              Meet me for lunch?
                                The beanstalk?
 
A somewhat delayed response began to materialize in the book under his own
script two or three minutes later.
 
                                    Can do!
                        Should be out in a few minutes.
                                Twenty minutes?
 
Percy responded quickly and briefly.
 
                              Already headed out.
 
Percy made quick work of preparing to leave. He took the papers he was working
on and shunted them in his desk with a quick locking charm. Looking to make
sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he threw his forgotten coffee into the bin
under the desk and stood up to leave. It was nearly lunch anyway.
Hastily leaving the office, he made his way to the apparition chamber pointedly
ignoring anyone who tried to speak to him and with a crack he was gone.
He appeared just off the side of the street that was bustling with activity. It
was just on midday and the street was bustling with activity: people - like him
- having lunch, shopping. Children roaming the alley looking into the shops and
asking their parents to buy them the latest bit or Bob.
While Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were more popular and arguably more famous,
Percy preferred the offshoot of Glaral Street. It was much more all-inclusive
as well. Whereas Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade mostly consisted of witches and
wizards, and the occasional goblin, or elf bustling about to do its master's
bidding, Glaral Street had all sorts of creatures and magical beings: Cambrian
and Deodand, half Giants and Orcs, centaurs, dwarfs, and werewolves. The list
went on…
A smile began to bloom across Percy's face. He was already beginning to feel
better, and so with a slight spring in his step he made his way down the street
toward the beanstalk. The beanstalk was a small café owned by a Muggle-born
just slightly older than Percy, he thought. He thought that it was supposed to
be named after some Muggle fairytale… The proprietor, Jack had said that it was
supposed to be modeled after a popular Muggle coffee shop.
When he entered the shop the first thing that he noticed, as he always did,
with the smell. That sweet and tantalizing aroma of roasted coffee beans. He
loved the smell.
Inhaling and savoring the scent, Percy walked up to the counter and waited for
the lady behind it to notice him. When she did she smiled in recognition. It,
of course, wasn't the first time that Percy had been there. "Hiya Perce," she
said in a slightly louder tone than one would expect, speaking above the noise
of the shop. "What can I get you today?"
Percy smiled in return. "Good morning Stacy. I'll need the White Chocolate
Mocha - double shot if you would."
Stacy just rolled her eyes and smiled, taking in order. "You know, the way you
drink this stuff all that caffeine is going to kill you."
"Says the one that works here," Percy retorted with a mock glare. "Just take
the order. I also need a hot chocolate and be liberal with the fudge. And we'll
need a blueberry scone and a cheese Danish."
Stacy looked at Percy knowingly. "Oliver coming by for lunch then?"
Percy nodded as he pulled his gold purse out of the same pocket that he pulled
the Journal. Oliver did not like coffee very much. He had initially resisted
even coming with Percy until he discovered that the beanstalk served chocolate.
It had been highly entertaining to discover just how much of a sweet tooth
Oliver Wood possessed.
Percy pulled out five gold galleons and handed them to Stacy. "Perce this is
too much. It's only a few shekels."
Percy waved her off. "I know, but it's not like I don't expect you to earn it,"
he smirked at Stacy snobbishly, but playful. "I'm going to sit out front. I'd
like you to bring it to me when it's ready."
Stacy stuck her tongue out at Percy but nodded. "Fine then, make me do actual
work. I'll bring you your damn food."
Percy just smiled and nodded in thank you and turned to walk out. "You know,
you shouldn't swear at your customers!"
"Screw you!" She called at his retreating back. Percy found a table placed
under one of those really big patio umbrellas and claimed it for him and
Oliver, contenting himself with people watching until Oliver arrived.
He had no idea how long he had been sitting there when he finally heard
Oliver's voice approaching from behind. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm late, I
know, but the coach held us over," he was saying hurriedly and looked
apologetic.
Percy stood up with a smile on his face and waved the other boy off. "It's
fine," he reassured Oliver happily. He leaned over and placed a kiss to
Oliver's lips which the other man returned with a grin before rounding the
table and taking the empty seat. "It's alright. I hadn't even noticed," he said
taking his seat again. "I got us a Danish and a scone and a couple of coffees."
Seeing the look on Oliver's face he quickly continued. "Don't worry, your
coffees a hot chocolate." He chuckled at the relieved look that Oliver gave
him. The other man was not a fan coffee in the slightest.
As if on cue, Stacy exited the beanstalk with his order. "Hiya Oliver", she
said extra brightly with a grin that looked like it might hurt. She set their
order down on the table, holding her crouched position just a tad longer than
necessary. "There you go boys, enjoy."
Percy just rolled his eyes and gave her a kick in the shin. She yelped and
straightened up, turning to glare at him. "That's enough Stacy," he told her
sternly with a pointed glare. He knew, of course, that nothing would come of
it, even if Stacy were serious. She was just naturally flirty. Plus, he was
used to people throwing themselves at Oliver.
She pouted in response. "Geez, ruin my fun…" She stuck her tongue out in
retaliation.
Percy waved her off with a 'shoo' gesture. "Go on. You're working, you don't
have time to play and you already got your tip."
She sighed in playful resignation. "All right then. If you insist. I really
hate adulting…" With a final wave goodbye, she made her way back into the
beanstalk.
Percy just grinned and shook his head at her antics before taking his seat
across from Oliver. The other man smiled and followed suit. They both pulled
their wands and Cast minor cooling charms on their beverages. "Not that I don't
enjoy having lunch with you in the middle of the day," Oliver said with a
smile. "But what brought this on"
"Well," the redhead paused to take a sip of his coffee. "I might have to quit
my job, but other than that nothing really."
Oliver just sat in shock, covering his mouth to stop himself from spitting hot
chocolate across the table. "What?!" He choked out. They both knew how much
Percy loved his job at the Ministry. For him to say outright that he might have
to quit was extreme. "What happened?"
So, Percy began his tale.
"Apparently Harry Potter broke the restriction a day or two ago and used magic
outside of Hogwarts. Whatever happened must amend bad because apparently his
Muggle cousin died in the process and the Minister's trying to pin him with
murder."
Oliver gasped in response. "Shit. I mean, I know the papers have been having a
go at him lately, but Harry was all right when I knew him. I don't think he
would ever kill anybody."
Percy nodded grimly in agreement. "He tends to spend the summers with my
family, and I have to agree. Occasionally prone to trouble, we all know that -
you remember what it was like at Hogwarts in those last years - but an okay
kid. Truthfully, I think most of that might be my brothers doing." He said
this, thinking privately about some of the things that he heard the twins, Ron
and his mother say about Harry's home life. Harry liked to keep to himself more
than anything, from what Percy could gather.
"That's not all though." Percy went on. "From what I hear, Harry managed to get
himself a good lawyer. I heard the senior Under-Secretary imply some pretty
nasty things. The words insurrection and treason were bandied about…"
"I don't know what to make of Harry's claims that the Dark Lord's come back,
and I certainly don't like Dumbledore, but Harry never struck me as a liar.
Even if he were I wouldn't go as far as to send a 15-year-old to Azkaban."
The two men fell silent, enjoying their lunch at Percy let Oliver absorb what
he told him. He seemed to sit there a bit numbly for a few minutes, which Percy
could understand given the gravity of the situation.
The two remained silent for several minutes before Oliver broke it. "I agree.
That's some pretty extreme measures, even if it was an accidental death. It
sounds to me more like they're trying to silence Harry, and if there really is
nothing to his claims then why bother. It's not like there haven't been 1000
nutters screaming about Dark Lord's in the past."
"If it were me I would quit." He admitted. "Then again, if you know that
something bad is going on and don't do anything about it some would say that
you had a moral obligation to do something. Maybe you should talk to your
parents, tell them what's going on at the very least. Like you said, your
family's always been close to him."
Percy nodded in understanding but didn't say anything. He knew, of course, that
Oliver was right, but the idea of talking to his parents made him
uncomfortable. They hadn't exactly separated on the best of terms, with all
this business about the Dark Lord and Dumbledore.
Oliver reached across the table and took Percy's hand. Percy looked up and
smiled, squeezing it in return. "Either way," the jock said. "I'll be here."
The rest of lunch with decidedly quiet, as the two finished up and Percy
struggled privately over what he should do.
                                      -x-
Wolfram & Hart, Attorneys at Law was a powerful international and
interdimensional law firm that catered to both the mundane and the supernatural
communities around the world, with offices in every major country on the
planet. It's London branch sat in a skyscraper in the heart of central London.
Davis Harding walked into the building that day with a smile on his face. He
had always wanted to be a lawyer, and when he entered the Wizarding community,
like many Muggleborns, he had been none too impressed. Sacrificing seven years
of his education to focus on his magic, he had thought that he'd sacrificed
that dream as well. He had been absolutely floored when Wolfram & Hart had
recruited him just a year out of Hogwarts. Wolfram & Hart was one of the most
preeminent law firms in the world. Davis had had no idea that they catered to
the magical community as well.
So, now he walked into work every day eagerly. The firm had been extremely
accommodating in filling in the gaps needs education, and Davis was a driven
individual. Spending a year as an intern studying, he had begun as an
associate. Within two years of that, he had made partner, outstripping the
other associates by a mile -much to their chagrin. He was in his seventh year
as a partner and he intended to impress the Senior Partners and rise in the
ranks again very soon.
His newest client would be the key to that.
Making his way to his office he stopped outside of his secretary's desk. She
grinned and handed him a coffee. "Somebody looks extra happy this morning. Did
you get lucky?" Immila Burton, unfortunate though her name was, was a fiery 25-
year-old redhead fresh out of school. Davis hadn't known her that long, but he
liked her. She fearlessly spoke her mind, which in any other situation, if he
weren't her boss, would get her fired but he liked her, and on top of that she
always seemed to be a step ahead of him and anticipated his needs.
"Always Immy dear," he smirked at her.
"Cute I hope?"
"Is there any other kind," he leered at her as if any suggestion to the
contrary was atrocious. "Today starts down a path that's been long in coming,
sweetie." He told her mysteriously and turned to enter his office. He loved his
office. It was furnished in leather and had a floor-to-ceiling window that
overlooked the city behind his desk.
"Mitchell's already in your office!" Immilla called at his back.
"I can see that!" He responded. Like the window behind his desk, the wall that
separated his office from the Hall was transparent glass. His associate
Mitchell Underwood was sitting on the leather couch in his office mindlessly
reviewing a file for a case that day. "Drop everything you're doing," he said
as he stepped inside. "I have a job for you and you're going to need some help.
So, wrangle yourself some associates and get to work.
Mitchell stood up fast, folder forgot on the table and a worried look on his
face. "What's going on," he asked. "Has something happened?"
Davis shook his head to calm Mitchell. "New case. I want to know everything
there is to know about Harry Potter and his family. You and the associates are
gonna look through every tome and scroll, and napkin you can find with any
information about the Potter family on it, and I need it as fast as possible."
Mitchell raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation, but received none.
"What, are you waiting for permission? Go!"
Seeing that he would get no explanation, Mitchell ran out of the office and
toward the associate pit to get started on his assignment. Davis sighed and
went over to the bookshelf against the wall, running his finger over the spines
and pulling down a particularly large tome – 'Ancient Lineages & Nobilities of
Great Britain'
He moved over to his desk and set the book down with a heavy thud. This was
going to take a while.
The thing about research is that it's not as easy as TV makes it look. One can
never find what they're looking for in less than an hour. In reality, it is a
long and arduous process that could take days or even weeks. In this particular
case, Davis, Mitchell and even Immy spent hours upon hours for days on end
pouring over scrolls and books. What had started as a single book -albeit a
large one - had moved on to a pile of books and scrolls spread out over the
furniture, coffee table and desk of the office. Coffee cups littered the floor
as the group studied long into the night looking for Davis's answer.
When the two asked him again what he was looking for he told them that he
didn't know and that he would know when he found it. They had groaned and
moaned about it but had continued with their task. Days turned into a week,
stretching far into the night before Davis actually found what he was looking
for…
"Ah…" He perked up hopefully. Mitchell and Immy looked at him expectantly as he
continued to read. "Ah….Ah! I think I found it."
"Well, what is it?" Mitchell asked expectantly.
Davis just grinned conspiratorially. "If I can work it right then and
everything…"
"Mitchell, I want you to file an appointment right away for a meeting with the
Senior Partners. They are going to wanna know this"
His order was met with complete silence. "You… You want to see the Senior
Partners?" Mitchell had gone completely pale like Davis had told him that he
planned to sacrifice him to a demon. Davis supposed that in a way that was
ironic. "What in the world could be so groundbreaking that you would want to
see… them?"
"Two words my fraudulent friend, two words. Ignatius Peverell!"
Chapter End Notes
     And Chapter 3 is done!
     This chapter feels like it took Forever. Yet we have our very first
     Pair - albeit a Side pair - in Oliver and Percy. This pair used to be
     quite popular and then Fell by the wayside. Lots of people ignore
     Percy as a Character, but I've always found him to be a Fascinating
     and complex character from a psychological standpoint.
     Also, I don't know how you guys feel about the changing Perspectives
     in the fic, but I've always Subscribed to the Multi-faceted view of a
     story with each contributing to the whole. Along that same line, I AM
     SO SORRY for the Molly/Arthur bit, even if it was Fade-to-black
     *Shudders* I assure you, it's not without purpose.
     I must also change the Guidelines it seems, as Master of Death will
     play a role
     As to the Spell that Percy used: Lupinotuum Audiunt - Almost
     literally 'Werewolf Hearing'
     As a Final note, still out for a beta if anyone decides they are
     interested. If not, Please don't waste your time Reviewing solely
     about my Grammar and Spelling issues.
***** Setting the Record Straight *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Wednesday,_August_9,_1995
 
“I Win!” Cedric Diggory called out gasping for breath as he broke the surface
of the water on the other side of the lake not far from the cottage he lived
in.
 
Cho Chang popped up out of the water a few seconds later behind Cedric with a
grin. “Yeah, you win this time but I'll get you next time.”
 
Cedric grinned and leaned over to catch the Asian girl in a kiss, wrapping his
arms around her. He let his hands trail over her body and through her hair,
only ending the kiss when he had to draw away for breath and smirked
appreciatively. Cho wasn’t like the other girls that he knew. She wasn’t dainty
or girly in nature. Oh, she could certainly be those things when she wanted to
be but often she was athletic, competitive and independent. She liked him, he
could see that and he liked her, but she didn't fall all over herself to get
his attention.
 
And by the gods she was attractive. Like him, she loved to be active and work
out. Her skin almost seemed to glow like honey in combination with the early
afternoon sunlight and the water droplets that sparkled on her skin, trailing
down her body.
 
This was a regular ritual for the two. The two would exercise regularly in the
morning hours. During the summer months, they would go for a swim much like
they were now, and during the winter months they would do other things: they
would go on morning jogs doing several circuits around the black lake, or go on
a hike through the forbidden forest - one of their more dangerous activities,
but if you were careful and stuck to specific paths than you would be fine.
 
That was the interesting thing about Quidditch, Cedric thought. People assume
that just because they played that they were in great shape. This was an
unfortunate misnomer about the sport. There wasn't a lot of physical activity
involved in the game itself. You spend most of your time on a broom that did
all the moving, not you. It took a great deal more effort than that to actually
maintain a healthy state as they did.
 
It was true that not many wizards had a problem with weight gain. Only the
exceptionally powerful tended to be heavier because they didn't require as much
energy to cast and maintain their magic.
 
Even without that, however, Cedric loved to work out. It helped him stay
healthy and got his endorphins flowing. Plus, to him, the day just seemed to go
so much better when you actually got up and active in the morning. The entire
day afterward just seemed to go better than on the days that he missed his
workout.
 
“Take another lap,” he suggested. “Try again?”
 
“I think I'll pass this time,” she said smiling suggestively.” I think I can
come up with a better way to do cardio.”
 
“Oh, is that right?” He smiled and pulled her tightly to him. “I can do with
that.”
 
He pulled her into a kiss again. Slightly rougher this time. He trailed his
lips along her jaw and pulled down her neckline, smiling when she sighed in
approval of his ministrations. He put his hand into the water and brushed
against her bikini bottom in question. She froze for a moment but didn't object
and he cautiously slide his hand inside
 
He stroked her lips encouragingly, brushing his thumb over her clit eliciting a
moan Her arms tightened around his neck as her legs shook in the water. He
stuck a finger inside making her shiver in response. “You like that…” He
breathed in her ear.
 
When she nodded, biting her lip, he slid another finger inside and began to
thrust them slowly and stroking her clit with each movement. “Oh god Ric…More,
more…” With each please he would fuck her faster, listening as the water began
to lap around them.
 
He stopped thrusting when he felt her shudder around him, hugging him tightly
to hold herself upright and moaning into the crook of his neck riding out her
Orgasm. When he was sure that she could maintain herself, he moved to lower his
shorts, springing free.
 
Feeling Cedric’s against her thigh, she hesitated. Cedric held his breath to
see what would happen. They’d Fooled around before, but never truly gone all
the way. Every time they came close Cho would pull away and that's exactly what
she did this time. “I’m sorry…” She sighed sadly and extricated herself from
him.
 
Cedric growled in frustration and let her go. He could hear the sincerity in
her voice and he knew that she meant it, but it didn't do anything to lessen
his own frustration. Pulling up his shorts he turned to look at Cho
questioningly. “I try! I try to be really understanding you know. I really do,
I would never force you to do anything but what is it? I don't understand why
you can't.”
 
“I know! I do, but I can’t explain it….” She tried and groaned in frustration.
Cedric had been more than patient with her and she loved him for it. It wasn't
that she didn't want to, gods did she want to… “It's just… It's not time. Every
time we start I feel like something's missing, that it's not time and that we
should wait.’ She knew that the explanation would do nothing to pacify Cedric
and she felt terrible for it, but it felt wrong… Well, not wrong…. Gods, she
hated this.
 
He knew that he shouldn't push, but he couldn't hide his frustration when he
heard her explanation, an explanation that he had heard many times before and
she could never elaborate. “But when will the time be right, Cho?” He asked a
bit too harshly. “We're seventeen and we've been dating since fourth year. Call
me pushy but I think I've been more than patient.”
 
Cho could only look on helplessly as Cedric vented his frustration. He was
right of course, but she just couldn't explain herself any better than that.
“I'm sorry,” was all that she could say, helplessly.
 
Cedric opened his mouth, retort on the tip of his tongue but he thought better
of it and snapped his jaw shut. “It's fine…” He said with a sigh and turned to
wade out of the lake leaving his girlfriend behind. “It's almost noon. Let's go
get some lunch.”
 
The silence between the two was palpable as they trekked from the Lakeshore to
the end of the pier where they had left their clothes and wands. Cedric cast a
drying charm on himself and made quick work of dressing before he asked Cho.
“Where do you want to go to eat,” he asked in a slightly clipped voice.
 
“I don't know. The Three Broomsticks is fine I guess.” She answered simply
without looking at him. “Apparate?” Cedric simply nodded and raised his wand
disappearing with a loud pop. Cho just sighed resignedly and followed suit.
“Gonna be a great lunch,” she muttered to herself.
 
Because Hogsmeade was such a popular destination and purely magical in nature,
there were multiple apparition points, unlike Diagon Alley which held only two
access points, one by the entrance to the alley at the leaky cauldron and
another at the foot of the stairs leading to Gringotts. Because of this, Cedric
and Cho appeared just next to the Three Broomsticks. “Look,” Cedric said when
they landed. “I don't want to fight. Let’s just have a nice lunch.”
 
Cho sighed and nodded in agreement. She really hated fighting. She held her
hand out for Cedric to take and the two pasted smiles on their faces as they
entered the pub.
 
Being just shy of midday it was still sparse. There were a few patrons strewn
about - early morning drinkers and such. Cedric was sure that Rosemarta had
spelled the place because as soon as the crossed the threshold she turned to
look at them. Although, in her defense, it was a common practice. Dumbledore
himself did it. It impressed the First Years greatly.
 
Seeing faces that she recognized Rosemarta moved to meet them. “Cedric, Cho
dear,” she greeted them with a smile. “Bit of an early date then, is it?”
 
Cedric laughed and squeezed Cho’s hand. “Not today Rosie darling. We’re just
stopped in for some lunch before the rush.”
 
“Of course, of course! Let me show you to a seat.” She explained obviously. She
ushered them into the pub, summoning menus from behind the bar absently with
her wand. “What can I get you?”
 
“Thank you, Rosie,” he said as he took a seat across from his girlfriend and
the matron sat the menus down in front of them. He didn't need it though. Like
so many people, he had been coming here for years and had practically memorized
the menu. “Bit of a workout today. I'll have's the English Dip and the side of
the house salad with some Cran mango juice if you have it.”
 
Rosemarta had pulled the pad out of her apron and was scribbling furiously. “Of
course, dear. What about you Cho dear?”
 
Unlike Cedric, Cho took a brief second to examine her menu. “I think I'll keep
it simple,” she said. “I'll have the soup of the day and a Cup of English
Breakfast.”
 
“Right away dears,” she said before she hustled off. “I'll be right back with
your food.”  Madam Rosemarta always insisted on serving her patrons herself.
Oh, she had a staff and house elves like most other witches and wizards; she
used them too when it became particularly busy, but she also insisted on
serving her patrons herself when she could. She said that he gave her customers
that personal touch that so many places lacked.
 
And so, Cedric and Cho waited, sitting in silence and observing the bar. The
tension from their earlier argument still lingered slightly, but Cedric took
the initiative and initiated conversation with his girlfriend. “So, I have that
interview later this week on Friday. I really hope that it goes well.”
 
Cho took the proverbial peace offering Cedric offered and smiled encouragingly.
“Oh, come off it. We both know he loves you to pieces. There's no way he'd turn
you down. Besides at least you know what you're gonna do with yourself. I still
have no clue.”
 
“That's normal,” Cedric replied. “A lot of people fresh out of Hogwarts don't
know what careers they want to pursue. You're not even 18 yet. There's plenty
of time to decide what you want to do with yourself.”
 
“Oh yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Four whole days, and it's easy for you to say.
Your family is predominantly pureblood. My dad was a Muggle. That puts me at a
distinct disadvantage in the job market.”
 
Cedric thought about what she said, and she was right. With the way the
ministry worked, its policies were massively bias toward purebloods. Granted,
she wouldn't have as much trouble finding work as a Muggle-born would straight
out of Hogwarts, but it would be an uphill battle. “Well, at least you're not a
Muggle-born.” It was said in levity, but it was tMuggle-born to find a job that
wasn't a shop clerk or a barmaid - good jobs for Muggleborns were near
impossible to find. “Why don't you tell me what you want to do…”
 
Cho sighed in frustration. “That's just it, I don't know! And it's not like
career advisement at Hogwarts is the greatest.”
 
Cedric nodded in sympathy. That was very true. In your fifth year your head of
house sat down in their office and spoke to you about potential career choices
to use down the road. This was all to prep you for what classes you should take
leading up to your seventh year and your N.E.W.T. exam, but what they didn't
tell you was how many of those jobs were actually attainable if you weren't a
pureblood, or a product of a pureblood legacy like he was. His mother was a
pureblood witch, his father was a half blood.
 
“Well, there are still options. Your mum works in the Ministry in the Foreign
Affairs Division. You could always get a job there. There's also the
possibility of talking to Oliver Wood. We all know you love Quidditch – not on
the same level as he does mind you, but he might be able to find you an opening
on a team. I'm sure that he’d be happy to help a former classmate.”
 
Any further conversation ceased as Madam Rosemarta returned balancing a large
tray full of food and drink. “There ya go.” She said as she sorted their order.
“If you need anything else give us a shout.”
 
The two thanked the matron and fell into companionable silence as they ate
their lunch. Over the course of their conversation the Three Broomsticks had
become more active as he came closer to midday. As such, the conversation
around them had increased to a dull roar. It was one of these conversations a
couple of tables away from them that captured Cedric’s attention. “I can't
believe that the Boy Who Lived would murder a Muggle, let alone his own
cousin.”
 
Cedric sat up a bit straighter hearing this. He hadn't heard anything regarding
Harry for over a week since he had convinced his dad that Harry needed help.
That someone had died in the encounter was news to him.
 
“It's tragic to be sure,” the bar patrons companion responded. “I'm not
surprised though. Even if The Prophet isn't to be believed it was only a matter
of time before the boy was around the bend. I mean, there has to be side
effects the surviving the Killing Curse, right? Even if the boy is telling the
truth and the Dark Lord has returned, which I highly doubt, surely such a thing
would push him over the edge.”
 
Cedric could take no more. He rose from the table and calmly approached the two
gentlemen, vaguely hearing Cho call his name curiously.  “Excuse me,” he
interrupted politely with a somewhat forced tone. “Might I borrow the paper
from you, if you finished with it?”
 
The two men looked up curiously at the interruption and back to The Prophet on
the table. “Sure thing lad,” one of them handed him the paper. “It's all
yours.”
 
Cedric took the paper and thanked them in properly before turning to returned
to his seat. “Oh and by the way,” he stopped halfway and turned to address
them. “Harry's not crazy. I was there that night when the Dark Lord returned.”
 
Saying no more, he dismissed the men took his seat at his own table. “Was that
really necessary Cedric,” Cho asked him before he even got a chance to look at
the paper.
 
“Yes, it was because they're wrong. The entire bloody thing is wrong.”
 
“You're right, it is wrong. Even if he is lying the paper shouldn't be
slandering a student.” She agreed. She like many others didn't know what to
believe about that night, but she found it distasteful The Prophet would smear
Harry Potter in such a way. “You have to understand though. People are afraid
and they don't know what to believe. No one knows what happened that night. All
they have to go on his Dumbledore's word and that was traumatized 15-year-old
boy.”
 
“And mine.” Cedric said immediately. “I was there.”
 
“So you said a few times now. Why don't you tell me what happened?”
 
Cedric took a breath to steel himself and nodded. “All right, I'll tell you
what happened. It was the last task of the tournament and Harry and I had
reached the end of the maze. We decided that as we were both Hogwarts champion
that we should take the cup together…”
 
                   Flashback_–_Graveyard_of_Little_Hanglton
 
Cedric looked around cautiously when the portkey deposited them at their
destination. He thought that the cup was supposed to take them back to the
beginning of the maze, but this was most certainly not the maze entrance. He
looked to Harry about to ask if he knew what was going on and where they were,
but once again Harry had fallen on his behind. Cedric smirked entertained and
extended his arm to help the other boy to his feet. “Are you ever going to get
the hang of that?”
 
Harry glared but took Cedric's hand and hoisted himself to his feet. “Knowing
my luck, not likely,” he huffed in response.
 
Cedric looked around the graveyard. They had been deposited into relatively
clear area, dotted with headstones. There was a cold cauldron set up at the
base of an Angel of Death statue. “What is this place,” Cedric asked curiously
keeping his voice a low. “Is this another part of the challenge?” Even as he
asked the question, however, he didn't think so.
 
Harry was only paying partial attention to Cedric. He didn't like this. “I
recognize this place…” He said quietly to himself. He moved to one of the
headstones and looked at it and his blood ran cold.
 
                               Tom_Riddle_Senior
                                        
Harry stumbled back away from the gravestone. His face had gone pale even in
the dark and moonlight. “Cedric listen to me. We have to get out of here and we
had to get out of here now!”
 
Seeing the look on Harry's face Cedric frowned. “What is it Harry, what's
wrong?” Harry was already moving toward the portkey which had been discarded a
few feet away from them. Subconsciously Cedric gripped his wand tighter.
 
“Oh, would you look at that. Little Harry brought a friend, whatever shall we
do with him,” a new voice said. A lumpy and overly bolding man hobbled forward
carrying a lump of swaddling in one arm and holding a wand in the other.
 
Both parties stopped when they heard the voice. “No! Leave him alone! He has
nothing to do with this!” Harry called out behind him. “Come on Cedric, you
have to get out of here!”
 
 It was no longer ‘we’ have to get out of here, and that gave Cedric chills
 and he raised his wand in defense. Cedric summoned up all of his bravery and
in a steady voice said, “I'm warning you, stay back.”
 
The man laughed amused. “Would you like that. The Hufflepuff is brave. You
would've made a good Gryffindor.”
 
“About as well as you would've made a Slytherin Pettigrew…” Harry said behind
him.
 
Several things happened at once in that instance:
 
A cold rasping and hissing voice said, “the boy dies, kill the spare...” From
the mans – Pettigrew’s – arm.
 
“Yes, my Lord.” The man intoned a spell that made Cedric’s blood ran cold and
froze him in place. “Avada Kadavra!”
 
“NO!” Harry screamed and drew his wand. “Accio Tom Riddle's headstone!” One of
the gravestones separated itself from the ground and flew toward them, placing
itself between the oncoming spell and Cedric.
 
 Time seemed to slow and Cedric’s heart pounded in his chest. The unforgivable
struck the stone and the stone smashed into pieces, deflecting the spell that
would've killed him. Harry was now standing in front of Cedric, shielding him
with his body. When had the younger boy moved? “Cedric, you have to go! Get
back to the cup and warn Dumbledore that I need help.”
 
Cedric shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “Harry, I can't leave yo – “
 
Cedric was cut off by what felt like a blow to the chest. Harry had banished
him backwards with a flurry of Harry’s wand. “GO!” Harry ordered and similarly
Cedric felt the weight of the cup against his chest. His fingers curled around
it instinctively as he felt the telltale hook behind his naval and his vision
filled with swirling light.
 
                                 End_Flashback
                                        
“… And you know the rest of course.” Cedric told Cho, unaware of the fact that
the rest of the pub had also gone silent as they listened to Cedric's tale.
 
For her part, Cho sat patiently and listened to Cedric as he told her what he
had seen. She remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing the details. “Okay…
I believe that's what you saw, but think about it. What makes you so sure that
was Him? It could have been anything.”
 
Cedric grew a bit frustrated with her insistent denial.” What else could it
have been; and we both know that Harry's no liar!”
 
Cho raised her hands to placate him. “I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying that
I agree with what people have been saying about him either, but how do we know
for sure what you saw was the Dark Lord?”
 
Cedric laughed in the cool flat tone. “Oh you would know…” He said darkly.
There was no mistaking a servant of the Dark Lord when you saw them. “Besides,
there is one way I knew for sure…”
 
“What's that,” she asked curiously.
 
“I owe Harry Potter a Life Debt…”
 
That declaration shocked her into silence and the rest of the bar gasped in
shock. That was an entirely different matter. Life Debts were an extremely
serious matter. For one they could not be forged under false pretenses. You
could not manufacture a situation in which a life debt to be forged and you
cannot lie about the circumstances under which said life debt was forged. So,
if Cedric said that Harry saved his life from Voldemort then that is exactly
what happened, because he could not lie about it.
 
And until that debt was paid there was very little that Cedric could refuse the
boy. Even if Harry Potter asked Cedric to serve him as his slave until the life
debt was repaid, or if Harry asked Cedric to give his life for him than that
was what he would have to do.
 
Add to the fact that life debts were near impossible to repay, because you
could not do so knowingly. The payment of a life debt had to be selfless and
without motive. If you did so with the intent of paying the debt then it
wouldn't work and since most people who owed  them had no choice but to protect
their debtor, the bond was almost never repaid.
 
Cho now looked on her boyfriend with pity and sadness. “Oh Cedric, I'm so
sorry…”
 
Her apology actually made him laugh, and she looked at him questioningly.
“Don't be. If ever there was one person that I would trust with that kind of
debt it's Harry Potter. You know what he was like at Hogwarts.”
 
She thought about it for a moment and nodded. He remembered him from Hogwarts
and how he behaved and the things that he had done. The boy was almost noble to
a fault. “There's one thing I don't understand though. If he gave you the
portkey back, then how did he get back? It looked as if he apparated, but
that’s impossible at Hogwarts.”
 
“Actually, it's not entirely impossible,” Cedric smirked knowingly. “There are
a handful of people that it's possible to apparate in Hogwarts for. Do you
remember who they are?”
 
Cho took a moment to think about it, trying to remember if she'd read anything.
“The Headmaster is one of them… But I don't remember who else.”
 
Cedric nodded approvingly. “Dumbledore is one. As Headmaster, he can appearate
anywhere in the school. The others are the four heirs of the founders….”
 
He gave that a moment to sink in and watched her eyes go wide with
understanding. “You mean Harry's…”
 
Cedric nodded smugly. “He is. It's been an open secret for a long time that the
Potter's are descended from him…”
 
“Pardon me sir,” one of the patrons worked up the courage to interject himself.
“But do you mean to tell me – tell us that Harry Potter is descended from
Godric Gryffindor?”
 
“He is, and I'd bet you to that there’s at least one other if you think about
it.” He said vaguely.
 
This caused a gasp to wash through the Three Broomsticks. For Harry Potter to
be descended from one of the most notable figures in their history… Many people
in the pub that day began to rethink what they had heard recently about Harry
Potter.
 
Muttering and whispered conversation washed over the bar as people begin to
absorb this apparently new information. Cedric had to wonder what the hell was
going on. As he said, the Potter's connection to Godric Gryffindor was common
knowledge or at least he thought it was. Eventually one of the men from whom
Cedric and taken The Prophet stood up and approached him. “Pardon me lad, but I
have a feeling that you'll be seeing Mr. Potter again sometime and when you do,
tell him that I, Alias Jaffrès, stand with him; and when the day comes my clan
will stand with him.”
 
There was a brief silence and then Mr. Jaffrès compatriot rose to his feet as
well. “And I, Gilleece Ó Donnabháin.” After that, a third the fourth and the
fifth. Like a tidal wave, men and women alike stood up and declared themselves
as an ally. And yet, Cedric felt like it was more than that. Sitting there in
the Three Broomsticks, Cedric felt as if he were witnessing something profound
that would change the future.
 
                                      -x-
                                        
                                        
In the room that he shared with his best friend Ron Weasley, Harry Potter sat
at a rickety old desk that would no doubt have otherwise been covered in junk
and dirty clothes given his friends dislike of academics. Instead, thanks to
Harry, the desk was relatively well maintained with a handful of books taken
from the Black Family library stacked on the corner against the wall. Harry was
currently attempting to articulate a letter when the sound of his best friend’s
footsteps coming down the Hall interrupted him.
 
“Hey Harry! Mom says lunch will be ready soon,” Ron said storming into the
room. Seeing Harry at the desk with parchment and Quill, he slowed. “What’re
you doing now?” He asked wearily.
 
Harry put the Quill down and turned to face Ron. “Writing out a letter to
Professor McGonigall. I want to change my courses this year. Actually, study
something that would be beneficial to me.”
 
Ron made a face of disgust when he heard that. The idea that Harry would
willingly drop an easy class being completely foreign to him. “You're not
turning into Hermione on me, are you?”
 
Harry laughed at the nation. “Hermione isn't that bad really.” It was true to.
Like with most smart people, Hermione was highly intelligent but lacked the
social skills to compensate for it. That oftentimes made her bossy, demanding
and condescending but he didn't think that it was intentional. “I used to be a
lot like her until I met you, but I take your meaning and no, but I don't see
any harm in actually applying myself for once and studying.”
 
There it was again. The words studying evoking an almost physical response out
of Ron. “Maybe, but why on earth would you want a study on your holiday? It's
mental.”
 
Harry sighed, this was an age-old argument with Ron. One usually had between he
and Hermione rather than Ron and Harry. It usually consisted of Hermione
nagging him to do his homework and to apply himself, but Harry chose to take a
different path. Harry understood something about Ron and Hermione seemed to
have lost. Ron was a child, something that Harry had lost some time ago. “Why
do you do that, “Harry asked seriously. His intent was not to judge his friend
but make him understand.
 
“Do what…”
 
“You act like studying and learning is evil.” Ron started to speak up, but
Harry held up his hand to stop him. “I'm not judging you. If I had the luxury
you do I would spend my summer doing that too, but I don't. I have dark Lord's
and Dementors after my head.”
 
Simply stating it up front like that caused Ron flinch back and frown as if he
had been struck. “The Muggles have a saying - some wizards too, probably:
“Knowledge Is Power” and I need all the power I can get right now.”
 
“I don't expect you to understand, and I won't badger you like Hermione does,
but I am going to be honest. I don't have time to play and I wish that as my
best friend he would support me.” Maybe that wasn't fair. Ron had never out
right tried to distract him, but Harry wanted to make a point. More than that,
he wanted to motivate his friend and sometimes the only way to do that was the
cold hard truths.
 
“You are super intelligent Ron. You're one of the smartest people I know next
to Hermione, but you don't apply yourself. If you would only try it could be
the top of our class. And the truth is that with what's coming I could use
that. The world is changing and we had to change with it, and I would like my
friend by my side -someone that I know I can trust above all others when it is
at its darkest.”
 
Ron stood there for a moment and the two boys looked at each other in silence.
It seemed to stretch on forever and Harry wondered for a moment if he made a
mistake and pushed Ron too far. Finally, however, Ron spoke. “Is that what you
think, that I'm not on your side?” He knew that he and Harry had their
disagreements and arguments. Fourth year was the best example of that, but Ron
had just assumed that was par the course. He and his brothers argued all the
time, but in the end, he would always be there for them. He had no idea that
his attitude would make Harry think anything else.
 
Ron closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Harry in a big
bear hug, his much larger form overshadowing Harry as he slapped the other boys
back. “I'm always with you mate. You told me once that you didn't want to be
the Boy Who Lived, you didn't want the fame and the attention. You said that
you wanted to be ‘Just Harry’ and so I did what I could to accomplish that. I
acted like any other normal boy our age, and tried to give you that
experience.”
 
“But I'm always with you. You’re like another brother to me, fights and
everything and if you're ready to drop the act and be the Wizard your meant to
be then so am I…”
 
Ron was not a boy who expressed himself well, or at least that's what Harry
thought. So, when Ron drew away from him, all Harry could do was stare at him
in shock. It had never occurred to Harry at all that Ron's attitude might be
intentional or for him in some way. The idea that it was warmed Harry's heart
more than he could express. It also floored him, but he appreciated it. So,
Harry responded the only way he knew how…
 
“Thanks Ron…”
 
Ron laughed at the simplistic response. “Not a problem,” he smirked. “I've kind
of been waiting for this this though. I'm not stupid. Do you think I'm going to
overshadow my brothers by slacking off?”
 
“But come on, lunch is almost ready and I'm starving. We can discuss more
later.”
 
Harry laughed, a loud boisterous laugh. Possibly his first real laugh in years.
“Some things never change.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     And so endeth Chapter the 4th. Though, admittedly Not where I
     intended. I had a whole scene and a half left that I had planned out,
     but that's the way the chips fall sometimes.
     So, What do you guys think? I always thought Ron was more intelligent
     then Most fans give him credit for, and it seems that with the
     preverbal stroke of a pen I've made Ron probably the Bestest best
     friend in History. *Laughs*. And so it seems that the Weasley Family
     is Slowly beginning to draw back together and coalesce around Harry.
     Meanwhile, you guys are probably starting to hate me - putting off
     the start of the Trial again - but as I said, that's the way it works
     sometimes. But Have no fear, we will get there.
***** First Knight *****
Chapter Notes
     Here I am! Back with Chapter 5 and it is MASSIVE with 18,393 words in
     this chapter alone! I did say it was Huge. Just a few notes to start:
     It has come to my attention that I Made an Obvious mistake in the
     last Chapter. Cho was 17 in Harry's Fifth year, not 18 which I knew,
     but for some reason Fucked it up. I could fix it, but that would have
     some rather large consequences on later plans, so I'm afraid its now
     Fannon for this fic
     It seems that some clarification might be needed in regard to how the
     Challenge format works. The Rules of a challenge are iron clad, they
     have to happen to qualify. Guidelines, however, are fluid and can
     change as the story progresses
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Harry and Ron were once again alone in the room, the day ended. The day had
consisted, as most of them did, of cleaning Grimmauld Place from top to bottom.
One would think that such a thing was a simple task and could be done quickly
with nine people and over a week's worth of effort, but you would be surprised
how much dust and dirt and other crud could accumulate over a decade. Add to
that an unstable old and potentially homicidal house elf who likes to pilfer
things and the job was taking decidedly longer.
Harry was already situated on his bed with one of his books while Ron had just
come back in the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, muttering to
himself. "I could scrub for an hour and still not be clean…"
Harry looked up from his book, glancing at his friend's nude form and raised a
brow. "I never took you as a clean freak Ron."
"I'm not normally," the redhead said as he dug a pair of well-worn loose-
fitting pajama bottoms from the chest of drawers and slipped them on. Once they
were on, he turned around and Harry diverted his attention back to his book.
"This place is disgusting, though. It would be different if mom would let us
use magic, but she insists that we clean it by hand." He climbed into the bed
next to Harry's.
Harry just shrugged in response. "I used to do that all the time," he said
uncaringly. He had cared for and cleaned up after the Dursleys since he was
five years old. Spending a week helping his friends clean up a musty old house
was nothing. You didn't know disgusting until you washed Dudley's shit stained
shorts.
Come to think of it, he had not seen the Dursleys since that afternoon a week
ago. It felt like a lifetime ago. He wondered vaguely how they were handling
the death of their son. No doubt he had farther cemented their hatred of him.
Had they been informed, he wondered idly. Wizards sometimes seemed a bit
strange and addle-minded to him, but surely someone had informed Petunia. He
wondered for a second whether he should go back to make sure but he couldn't
muster the energy to care quite honest.
He was sure that if any of the others knew that they would be horrified by his
thought process, but why should he care about a person who had made a sport out
of hunting and abusing him?
Meanwhile, unseen by his friend, Ron realized what he had said and was looking
at Harry abashed. Granted, he didn't know the extent of it. Contrary to what
everyone thought, Harry didn't tell he and Hermione everything, especially
about his Home life, but he had seen enough over the years to know it wasn't
good. "Shit, I'm sorry Harry," he made to apologize. "I wasn't even thinking."
They both knew that Ron had a habit of shooting his mouth off without thinking.
Harry just waved him off without a thought. Despite their previous conversation
about maturity and responsibility, Ron was still Ron and changes didn't happen
overnight. Besides, he knew Ron didn't mean anything by it. "Don't worry about
it."
Ron nodded silently and adjusted himself in bed. The two remained quiet for a
while until Ron broke it – his curiosity getting the better of him. "You've
nearly put Hermione to shame with all the studying mate," he said looking at
Harry whose head was still in his book. "You haven't told anybody what you're
studying though."
Since dinner on Harry's first night at Grimmauld place a week ago Harry was
rarely seen without a book in his hand; and when he wasn't with Ron and
Hermione he was barricaded in the Library with is Godfather, much to the
chagrin of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione. Hermione was displeased – read Jealous –
that Harry had access to the Library and She did not. Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley
was of the opinion that Harry didn't need to be exposed to such dark and
questionable material. Surprisingly, however, the ladder had been relatively
nonconfrontational about the issue, only making a few off-the-cuff comments –
as mothers did.
As it was, Harry simply shrugged in response to Ron. "A little bit of this and
a little bit of that," he told the other boy. He wondered briefly whether he
should tell Ron what he had discovered through his godfather; that the manor
was warded in such a way that even though it was in a Muggle area that the
trace was ineffective. On the one hand Ron would be ecstatic, but on the other,
he was prone to shooting off at the mouth. If he said the wrong thing at the
wrong time…
Then again, he had also told Ron that he needed to be able to count on him, and
in order for that to happen he actually had to trust him and it was Harry's job
to give the other boy the tools necessary to do that. Making a decision, he
rose from the bed and padded across the floor to the desk; Ron watching
curiously as he went. "I can't tell you everything," he said. Because he was
rifling around the desk he missed it when Ron's face fell. "Not yet anyway."
Finding what he was looking for, Harry quickly returned to bed with a new book
in hand. "What do you know about Occlumency, Ron?" Harry asked his best friend.
Ron perked up, answering right away. "I've never practiced it, of course. It's
a very advanced form of magic designed to both systematize and protect the mind
from external intrusion."
Harry looked at Ron a bit wide-eyed in surprise and then smirked. "Look at you…
Systematize – Hermione would be proud," he teased and handed Ron the book.
Harry couldn't see it, but he knew Ron had flushed and was glaring daggers at
him. The other boy looked at the book cover, muttering. "Git…"
                         Constructing Your Mind Palace
                       Organizing & Defending the Mind:
                          Fundamentals of Occlumency
"That's the first thing Sirius and I started on," he said when he had Ron's
attention again. "Start learning that and I can tell you more. You may even be
able to join us."
Ron looked fairly discombobulated at the idea of having to read so much. Like
Harry, Ron was a man of action. He preferred to be active and learned best by
doing. Hermione had called it Ken – Kenestretics… Kinesthetic learning, that
was it. Books were her thing. He recognized the gravity of the situation,
however, and nodded determinedly. "I will… Tomorrow."
Harry laughed and nodded in turn before laying down with his back to his
friend. "Alright. Goodnight Ron."
"'night Harry…"
-x-
In fifteen years of living with the Dursley's Harry had grown accustomed to
early mornings. This was fine when he had a roster of things to do: Make
breakfast for three – which was closer to breakfast for seven, doing the
dishes, the yard work, lunch, the housework, and dinner, plus whatever errands
his Aunt wanted between said tasks. He usually had a full day. It was a
different matter when he had nothing to do.
He had attempted to make breakfast for the Weasleys once and had enjoyed it.
The thought of his friends, especially Ron – the human disposal – enjoying his
cooking brought a smile to his face. When Mrs. Weasley had discovered him that
morning, however, she had quickly shooed him away with a Smile saying that the
kitchen was no place for a thirteen-year-old boy.
So, he sat there at seven-thirty in the morning with only Ron's snores for
company. He didn't like sitting alone in the quiet. It left him too much time
to think and get lost in his head. So, he did his best to occupy himself. He'd
already showered and dressed – looking at his cousin's clothes in disgust. He
had never been particularly materialistic, but it was time to make some
cosmetic changes.
It was a sad truth of the world that if one wanted to be taken seriously, one
had to look the part. Thus, Harry once again found himself at the rickety desk
scribbling out a brief note to Mr. Harding, which he would then carry up to
Hedwig in the attic.
  …I plan to make some acquisitions today that will no doubt cause waves. You
            should be prepared to deal with the potential fallout.
He paused quill to parchment and debated on continuing. He added with a smirk…
           I hope the billables are worth the migraines Mr. Hardman.
                                      Hp
Signing with his initials, he folded the paper and searched the drawers till he
found an envelope and packed and sealed it. Addressing it quickly, he made his
way to the attic.
                                 Davis Hardman
                                Wolfram & Hart
                                    London
After delivering his letter and spending some time with Hedwig, he made his way
down to the kitchen. It was after eight, there was bound to be someone up by
now.
He wondered vaguely at the fact that Hedwig was there. Had someone retrieved
her, or had she found him? He doubted that. He had not even known about
Grimmauld Place before Mr. Weasley had brought him and he had not been back to
the Dursley's to retrieve her.
Shrugging it off – she was there and that's what mattered – he entered the
kitchen and found Sirius sitting at the table with a cup of coffee between his
palms and staring off blindly. "Morning Sirius," he said quietly as to not
startle the man.
It was for not apparently, however. The sound of Harry's voice breaking the
silence caused Sirius to jerk in surprise and slosh his coffee on the table. He
looked up and a smile as bright as the sun in such a dark and dreary house
bloomed on his face. "Mornin' welp," he said. "You just wake up?"
Harry shook his head negatively. "Been up a while." He went over to the stove
and picked up the kettle, checking the water and sitting it back on the lit
burner to boil. "Got any tea?" One of the times he was annoyed with wizards was
in the mornings. Their lack of electricity made brewing coffee particularly
arduous, and he wasn't a fan of instant.
Sirius directed him to the tea and the two fell into a comfortable silence
filled only by the sound of water boiling in the kettle. "Ron is asking
questions about what we're doing in the library," he said after a while.
"Did you tell him?" Sirius asked his godson absently.
"Not yet. I did start him on Occlumency though." Realistically, the stuff that
Sirius worked on with Harry in the Library was harmless most of the time. Spell
work, covering the gaps in Harry's schooling. History, Pureblood etiquette, and
Law, critical thinking, and Strategy. "We'll see how he handles that before we
include him in anything deeper."
"You think you can trust him with anything you have planned," Sirius asked
curiously. Ron's jealous streak, as well as his aversion to anything dark, was
well documented. When and if he found out what Harry had planned, there was
every opportunity that Ron would buck and resist.
Harry nodded absently as he stirred his tea and joined Sirius at the table. "I
think so. For all his jealousy, Ron is ambitious. If we feed into that he may
follow willingly. If not, we can deal with him, but I have faith." The truth
was that while Ron might never admit it, he was really very Slytherin at heart.
Sirius thought about what Harry said and nodded to himself. The boy was right.
It was still very dangerous, but the whole idea was a risk and Harry wasn't
just blabbing everything. "I'll test him in a few weeks after he's had some
time and see what I can find."
Mrs. Weasley joined them soon after, hustling into the kitchen to start
breakfast for the house. When she saw Harry and Sirius at the table she smiled
pleasantly. "Good morning! You boys are up early, you boys hungry? I'll have
breakfast in a jiffy," she said when they nodded.
"I wish you'd let me help you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he watched her
work. Cooking for eleven, plus whatever Order members decided to drop in was no
simple task. Harry almost felt bad sitting there doing nothing. "I Really don't
mind at all." After all, it wasn't as if he were being forced to do it.
"Nonsense dear," she shot him down again. "You have enough to do between your
summer homework and cleaning this house." It was true. The majority of the
house cleaning fell to them – himself, the younger Weasley's and Hermione, with
the exception of some of the darker and more dangerous tasks. "Besides, I'm
sure that you do enough cooking for those horrid Muggles. A young boys place is
not in the kitchen."
The mention of the Dursleys made his stomach flop, but he understood the
gesture and appreciated the sentiment. he nodded smiling in surrender. "Thank
you, Mrs. Weasley…" Privately, however, he had to wonder whether her rule about
boys and kitchen was more of a personal belief or fear of her kitchen being
destroyed by the likes of Ron and The Twins. he smirked at the thought.
"Although, for the record, I finished all of my summer homework," he amended as
an afterthought. "Something I'm sure Hermione will be quite pleased with when
she hears it."
"That's wonderful dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed happily. "If only I could get
Ron and the others to focus like that…"
Harry just nodded unseen by Mrs. Weasley. He wasn't so sure about Ron, but if
the redhead's assertion was true then his mother would soon see the desired
change in her youngest son's grades. The twins, however, were a different
matter altogether. Mrs. Weasley may not see it, but the twins were highly
intelligent and studious. You just had to give them the right incentives.
"That girl can put Remus to shame," Sirius said. "He was always the brain of
the Marauders, but at least he knew how to have fun."
"Oh, Hermione gets her fair share of trouble," Harry defended his bushy-haired
friend. "In our second year, we stole potion ingredients from Snape's personal
stores so that Hermione could brew the Polyjuice potion," he told his
Godfather. Hermione probably wouldn't be happy about it, but it was the least
incriminating instance of their hijinks. "We used it to sneak into the
Slytherin dormitory to find out who the heir of Slytherin was supposed to be.
Hermione was supposed to steal a hair from Pansy Parkinson," he told them and
started to chuckle. "But the hair that she got wasn't Pansy's, but rather
Pansy's cat."
It had been a horrible and dangerous accident at the time, but looking back on
it he found the event rather entertaining. Apparently, Sirius agreed because he
burst out in raucous laughter, slapping his Palm on the table. "Oh, that's
gold. That's better than the time your dad got stuck in a partial
transformation with antlers and a tail when we were learning our Animagus
forms."
Despite knowing a little about the dangers involved in the Animagus
transformation Harry found himself laughing at the image conjured. Besides, he
justified. Consuming an imperfect Polyjuice potion could be just as dangerous
if not more so. Mrs. Weasley just glared at them disapprovingly all the while
but held her tongue all the same.
"So is anyone else joining us for breakfast this morning," Harry asked when
they had calmed down.
"Just a couple," Mrs. Weasley responded. "Alastair will be by this morning for
his daily security check." She rolled her eyes a little bit at this. After all,
they were under the Fidelus charm. What do they need security checks for?
Harry understood this, however. After all, his parents had been hidden by the
same spell and they still died.
"Oh, and Tonks will be stopping by to deliver the mail," she continued. With
Grimmauld Place hidden as it was, they could send mail, but could not receive
it. Whatever tracking charms or magic placed on the owls that allowed them to
expertly deliver the post were rendered ineffective when faced with the magic
that hid them.
And that had been a kick in the teeth as well. He had met Nymphadora – call me
Tonks or I'll curse you -the night that he had arrived just before the Order
meeting and had recognized her as one of the Auror's who had arrested him the
night before. She had apologized profusely, of course, and he had accepted for
the most part. She seemed decent enough - easy-going and likable, and funny as
all get out. Still, he had to admit that it made him a bit weary around her.
Eventually, the rest of the house begin to trickle in. Mr. Weasley came in
still dressed in his PJs, was a large smile and kissed Molly on the cheek.
"Morning dear," he said as she handed him a cup of tea. "It smells lovely."
Hermione and Ginny followed soon after. "… But how can you say that? It's
basically slavery." Hermione was saying to Ginny as they sat at the table.
"No, it's not Hermione," Ginny defended. "The house elves need to serve
wizards. What's more is that they enjoy it. Without a family to serve they
become depressed and even ill."
"That's because they think they need it. The Muggles call it a psychosomatic
response."
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Is she going on about S.P.E.W. again?"
Hermione glared at him half-heartedly. "You sound like Ron," she accused. "And
even if that's true, which I doubt, what's wrong with providing them a fair
wage?"
"In theory nothing," Ginny conceded the other girl's point. "But what would be
the point? House-elves are creatures of Magic, they have no need for gold and
even if they did they don't have the mental capacity for independence."
"That's just propaganda from the Ministry," Hermione argued. "Every sentient
race has the right to freedom and independence." She said this fervently.
It was Harry's turn to interject. "How very American of you Hermione," he said
Dryly.
She looked at Harry in wide-eyed surprise. "Is that such a bad thing?" She
asked him stubbornly.
He waved off her question in favor of his own. "You say everyone is entitled. A
noble idea to be sure, but Ginny just said it: The House Elves have a reduced
intellect. If what you say is true then would you give a mentally retarded
Muggle complete independence and freedom of choice?"
Hermione scowled at Harry and huffed. "That is not the same thing and you know
it!"
Harry just quirked a brow in challenge.
"Well, yes, it sort of is Hermione." This from Sirius. "Ginny told you that
House-elves need Wizards. This is literal. A house elf needs a wizard to
survive. They feed on our Magic through the bond and in return they serve us.
Without it, they die."
Hermione looked positively mutinous, as she often did when she was disproven.
"It's still barbaric," she argued. "I've never read anything like that, but you
can't force someone to serve you and hold survival over their heads."
"Who said anything about forcing them," Mr. Weasley asked in confusion as he
sipped his tea. "They do so willingly."
Seeing a losing battle Hermione changed tactics. "Well if that's true than what
about Dobby?" The question actually made Harry sit up in interest,
figuratively. He was curious about that himself. He hadn't even given that a
thought, and Dobby had been free for years. His brow creased in worry for the
little elf. Maybe he should see if he wanted to bond with Harry. After all, it
had technically been he that had freed the little elf. If Dobby wasn't doing
well then it was his responsibility to look after him. Plus, the idea of a
personal house elf did have a certain appeal…
It was Ginny who answered again and put Harry's fears at ease. "Dobby is…
Quirky, but no different than any other house elf." Hermione puffed up really
to object, but Ginny cut her off. "It's completely understandable that Dobby
would want to get away from Masters like the Malfoy's," he placated the other
girl. "But tell me, where did Dobby go after Harry freed him?"
"Hogwarts," Hermione answered obviously. "That's because he had nowhere else to
go."
Ginny nodded. "True! As a free elf, Dobby had nowhere else to go so he went to
Hogwarts and bonded with the Headmaster, just like all the school elves do."
Hermione opened her mouth to object, but was rewarded with only silence. She
repeated the action a few times before she clamped her mouth shut dourly. Harry
didn't begrudge her attitude. For all her stubbornness, he understood her
difficulty in accepting this and many other things about the wizarding world to
which she complained about. She was having fundamental concepts in her world
view challenged. That was liable to ruffle anyone's feathers. He just hoped
that eventually she could come to accept those cultural differences as he had
done. Then again, Harry had never particularly connected with the Muggle world
either. That probably made the transition much easier.
During the course of the debate with Hermione, the Twins and Ron had finally
joined them. Ron was still half-asleep, his arms folded and his head resting on
the table. "I know what I said," he said without looking up sleepily. "But can
we hold the political conversations till after breakfast?"
Harry laughed and nodded in acceptance unseen while as if on cue Mrs. Weasley
sat a steaming plate of eggs, toast, and Bacon in front of Ron. "There you go
sweetheart," she chuckled and patted his head before addressing everyone else
with the obvious. "Breakfast is on."
Everything was relatively quiet, sans the sound of dishes and silverware – real
silver – as everyone loaded up and began to eat. Eventually, Harry broke the
silence and addressed the twins. "I'd like to talk to you guys sometime." He
was intentionally non-specific because he knew Mrs. Weasley would disapprove.
The twins looked up at him inquisitively and he answered simply… "I have a
proposition for you."
He knew as soon as he said it what he'd walked himself into and twin smirks
bloomed on their faces. "Oh Really," Fred Purred. "You're a bit young and we're
spoken for, but give us a few weeks and we might work it out."
"How do you feel about foursomes?" George asked.
Harry flushed a bright red. It wasn't the twins' vulgarity, he was used to that
but more the position the boys had put him in. He couldn't respond even close
to how he wanted to with the Elder Weasley's in the room. Thankfully he was
saved from doing so when Mrs. Weasley pinned them with a glare and pursed lips,
and it occurred to him just what Fred and George had done. Those clever devils.
"And just who are you two 'spoken to'?" The woman asked waspishly with her
hands on her hips. She completely ignored the fact that her sons had just
sexually propositioned Harry in favor of who they were dating. She also
appeared to miss the implication that they were dating the same person.
The two answered with faux innocence in unison. "No one…"
They were saved from farther interrogation when Mad-eye and Tonks entered the
kitchen and interrupted the conversation, but as Moody limped to a seat Arthur
peered at the twins. "We'll discuss this later boys'," he said quietly so that
only they, Harry and Sirius could hear – the ladder giving a look of lecherous
approval. Mr. Weasley must have caught on to what they didn't say.
"Good Morning Alastor. Tonks dear," Molly greeted the newcomers brightly and
settled a plate of food down in front of both of them as she had with Ron.
"Everything up to standard?" Moody took the plate with a nod of thanks but
still didn't eat. Instead, he took his wand from somewhere in his robes and
began casting, much to Molly's chagrin. "Oh Alastor, I wish you wouldn't be so
paranoid."
Harry couldn't help himself and snigger quietly. "Give the man some leeway Mrs.
Weasley," he said to her. "The man spent the better part of a year locked in a
chest with a Death Eater wearing his face. I think he's entitled to a little
paranoia."
His proclamation was met with silence and everyone looked at him. Suddenly,
Moody exploded in boisterous laughter and dug in. "Aye lad, indeed. Well, put.
In answer to you're questioning Molly, Yes, the wards are stable." Having
addressed Molly, he turned his attention back to Harry. "Are you worried at all
about your trial? Tonks tells me you used some impressive spell work."
Harry shot Tonks a stoic look. "Did she now," he hissed in a whisper. Tonks had
the decency to flush and look down while her hair cycled a rainbow of electric
colors. Harry truly did find the concept of Metamorphs fascinating, although,
he was finding that he wasn't so fond of Nymphadora. "But no, not really. I've
got a good lawyer and a solid case I think."
"It's convenient that you should bring it up though." Harry took the
opportunity presented to him. "With the trial so close I thought that it might
be a good idea to do some shopping to prepare myself. You know, make myself
presentable to the Wizengamot." Here he gestured with meaningful disgust at his
cousin's cast-offs.
Predictably, it was Molly Who Objected first. Harry had expected it and sighed
accordingly. He masked his frustration and tried not to be irritated. He loved
her and knew she meant well. "Harry dear, I don't think that's a good idea. We
don't know how safe it is, but you are right and you could do with some new
clothes. If you want, I can go for you. I still have your key."
The admission surprised Harry. Oh, he trusted Mrs. Weasley just fine but he had
honestly forgotten that he had even given her his vault key. It had been three
years. He vaguely thanked whatever gods might be listening that it was Mrs.
Weasley with his key and not someone else as he answered her. "Thank you, but
I'd really like to go myself. No Offense to you, of course."
Molly hesitated. She recalled the conversation that she had with Arthur about a
week ago and wondered if this was one of those situations where she should give
in, but her instincts made her resist. "I still don't think it's a very good
idea. It's not safe…"
Harry felt sympathy for her. He understood her fears. Even if he hadn't lived
through it he had heard plenty of horror stories about Voldemort's first rise
to power; and it wasn't as if those fears were unfounded. After all, he had
been attacked himself in the dead of night by dementors. Harry wasn't really a
gambler; that was more Fred and Georges area, but he was willing to bet a small
fortune that Voldemort had something to do with that. So, he understood her
concern but that didn't mean he was going to let it go. "I hardly think he's
going to order a hit on me in Diagon Alley in broad daylight," he drawled
amused. Yet, he left unsaid.
"Let the boy go, Molly," Sirius piped up. "He's a teenaged boy and at the very
least shouldn't be cooped up in this dreary old house all summer. Besides, no
one said he had to go alone." He looked to Moody for confirmation. "He can take
an Order guard, and we can make a day of it. I can go myself as Padfoot."
Harry did not look happy at the idea of a 'guard' chaperone but held his
tongue. He knew that it was something he would have to accept, and if it made
this easier and he got to spend time with his godfather then he would tolerate
it.
Moody nodded in agreement with Sirius's logic. "Aye, I can come along myself."
Molly's resolve began to crumble. If there was one thing she agreed with over
everything it was the idea that Harry should be as normal as possible. That
included going out and spending time with his friend; if Moody was willing to
put together a guard, but all of that vanished at the idea of Sirius tagging
along. "No. No, absolutely not."
"Molly Dear," Arthur tried – jumping in to defend Sirius. "Be reasonable…"
"I am being reasonable!" She snapped irritated. "Sirius Black is a wanted man
and I have no doubt that some Death Eater has leaked your Animagus form to the
Ministry. Your being there would only endanger Harry, and anyone with him, even
more."
Logically Harry was aware that she was right, but he watched Sirius's face fall
hearing her assertion, his eyes filling with pain and horror at the very idea
that he could somehow hurt or endanger Harry. So, while he understood her point
it did nothing to assuage his anger. He didn't raise his voice, or rage,
however, like they expected. Instead, he spoke very softly and evenly. "Do you
intend to hold us prisoner, Mrs. Weasley?"
It was barely a whisper, but everyone turned to look at him in shock and
surprise. Hermione huffed and prepared to chastise him, but Harry pinned her
with a fiery glare and whatever it was she was about to say caught in her
throat and she looked away. "Well," he directed to the redhead woman,
reiterating his question a second time just as calmly. "Do you intend to hold
us prisoner here?"
Molly scoffed awkwardly. "Don't be ridiculous…"
"It's anything but ma'am," Harry cut her off. "Quite the contrary… That's
pretty much what you'll have to do because you can't keep us here otherwise."
Harry felt a pang of regret for being so ruthless when he saw the hurt look
cross Mrs. Weasley's face, but he continued. "Sirius spent thirteen years
locked away in Azkaban. It's hardly fair or right to lock him away here too -
in a place he clearly hates." He felt bad for using Sirius and his situation to
his advantage. He would need to apologize later. "As to myself, I absolutely
refuse to hide away in what amounts to a magical Warren in Fear."
Unseen by anyone Harry reached into his pocket and gripped his wand under the
table. Being so focused on Molly he also missed the looks of pride and approval
from Arthur, Sirius, and Moody respectively.
"Oh, Harry…." She frowned regrettably. It saddened her that he thought that
way, but at the same time, she felt pride at the bravery and fortitude that the
boy she thought of as an adopted son displayed. "I never meant it like that.
I'm just worried about you. I'm scared for all my children."
Harry held his breath savoring the warmth that bloomed in his chest. He knew
she cared – he knew what they said about nagging mothers. He had always viewed
her maternally as well, but to hear her actually say the words…
Releasing the breath, he stood up from the table slowly and discreetly pocketed
his wand in the process. The room was silent as he made his way around the
table and stood in front of Mrs. Weasley.
The occupants of the room held their breath in anticipation waiting to see what
would happen. No one, including Arthur, had butt heads with Molly Weasley in a
long time and there was happening not once but twice and nearly as many weeks.
Harry, meanwhile, stood in front of Molly in silence.
The two eyed each other measuringly before Harry moved and wrapped his arms
around the older woman. He couldn't help but notice rather absently that she
was still taller than he was. Still, he hugged her tightly and rested his head
on her chest. "I know you do," he whispered to her. "And I love you for it, but
I can't just hide…"
She hid it well, but with his head on her chest – Gods he wished he were taller
– he heard the wet respire as she tried not to cry. He could think of nothing
to say that would serve to comfort the woman. Harry had never been particularly
adept at emotional displays that didn't involve anger and/or frustration, so he
simply hugged her tightly. He found it interesting as the only other instant he
had to compare it to was when Hermione had hugged him suddenly during the
tournament the last year.
Soon enough Molly composed herself and pulled away and Harry released her.
"Alright, we'll all go," she relented with a sniff. Realistically, she thought.
It was probably a good idea and Harry could certainly do with some new clothes.
Harry returned to his seat with a smile, ignoring Ron's flabbergasted
expression. "Good! Now that's settled we can all get ready and go after
breakfast."
Despite his bright demeanor, the room fell awkwardly silent after that. No one
really wanted to risk interrupting the hard-won truce and starting an argument
again. As was always the case, however, someone did break it by muttering to
themselves. "Bloody hell mate." Of course, it was Ron. "Scarier than Hermione
sometimes you are." Hermione yelled indignantly, but he broke the tension in
the kitchen as they broke out in a round of laughter.
With the tension banished, conversation continued once again. "So, I've got
everybody's mail," Tonks announced with a somewhat forced cheerfulness. She
pulled a small stack of mail from her robe pocket and made a quick sort of it.
"Three copies of the daily prophet: one for Harry, one for Hermione and one for
Arthur. "She gave one to the Weasley patriarch and slid the others across the
table. Hermione grabbed them, taking one in passing the other across the table
to Harry.
For his part, Harry wasn't expecting to see much. The ministry was trying to
keep things as quiet as possible, so he was expecting some backhanded ridicule
on page twelve but beyond that… Still, he maintained his morning check of the
Paper all the same.
"A copy of Witch Weekly for Ginny," Tonks said with a teasing grin as she
handed it to the girl, making her blush in embarrassment. "Quidditch Quarterly
for Ron, and the letter from Lee Jordan for the terrors."
They all went quiet, falling into a comfortable silence as they all read
through their mail with the occasional clink of silverware as they nibbled
their food. "Oh, My Gods," this from Ginny who looked at her magazine wide-
eyed.
They all looked at Ginny expectantly, waiting for an explanation. "What is it
dear?" Mrs. Weasley came up behind her youngest and looked over her shoulder.
Oh..." She gasped in shock herself and squeezed her daughters shoulder for
support.
"Well, out with it then," Sirius said as he became impatient. "What in that rag
could be so surprising?"
Curiously, he leaned across the table to get a better look and read the
headline. "The Jock and The Geek: Exposed – Freshman Quidditch star and
Heartthrob Oliver Wood Caught with His Male Lover." At first glance, he would
have dismissed it as the gossip of a tabloid but for the very prominent color
photo in which Oliver stood with none other than Percy Weasley and he two
leaned across a shaded table kissing each other directly on the mouth in what
looked like greeting. Given the nature of magical photography and his
experience with it – thank you Colin – he knew that it was much harder if not
impossible to falsify.
Before he could actually read the article, however, it was snatched away by
Mrs. Weasley who read it quietly, muttering as she paced back and forth. They
all waited in silence until she spoke, curious how she would react. Harry was
particularly interested in that, and concerned. Oh, he liked girls just fine
but it would be a lie to say that a bloke or two never struck his fancy, but he
wasn't altogether sure how the Weasleys' – well other than Fred and George –
viewed bent blokes, or the Wizards in general. Given the societal view on
eugenics he doubted it was progressive. Then again, the Weasleys' weren't
terribly traditional.
"Of all the Audacity…I can't believe…. It's just as well we're headed to the
Alley," Mrs. Weasley finally said clearly. "We'll be making a stop at the Owl-
Post. I've got a few choice words for that boy and my son."
Arthur frowned at his wife's ferocity and mounting agitation. "Now Molly dear…"
"No," she snapped cutting him off. "Whatever our problems or disagreements, I
shouldn't have to find out through some gossip piece. He should have the
decency to tell me himself."
Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but any argument he had died when she glared
at him. "Yes Dear…" He sighed dejectedly.
Harry felt a pit in his stomach.
Not long after that, breakfast concluded and they all split up to prepare for
the day. As a result, the house broke out in a dull Roar as everyone got ready.
The girls and guys alike all running off to dress and groom themselves, making
themselves presentable for public consumption.
Likewise, Mrs. Weasley insisted on informing Dumbledore of their outing. She
reasoned that even though he wouldn't approve, that at least he would know
where they were if something did happen. He knew it was unlikely, but however
much he might dislike it Harry couldn't argue the point. It's always better to
have something and not need it than to need it and not have it, but that didn't
mean you had to like it and Harry certainly did not like even the idea of a
would-be para-military group monitoring him.
Mad-eye had suggested contacting Remus to join them on their excursion, an idea
that Harry had immediately approved of until Sirius had readily pointed out
that the full moon was that very night, meaning it would be a whole other day
until either of them saw the bedraggled man. He had felt a slight pang of guilt
companying the realization that he had completely forgotten the full moon.
Harry had kept track of the moon phases since his third year at Hogwarts, but
Sirius had placated him, pointing out that he had not seen the older man much
since that dark night and that Remus would not fault Harry.
So, he stood before the hearth and waited, watching in moderate amusement as
the Weasleys rushed to get ready. It wasn't as frantic as their trips to the
platform, but it seemed the Weasleys could do nothing simply.
A feeling that Moody apparently shared if his tone was any indication. "All
right!" He snapped a bit harsher than necessary when the entire group was
gathered together, prepared to leave and chattering incessantly. "Quiet!" He
said again drawing everyone's attention. "If you're going to do this there is
going to be rules." He I each of them in turn with his eyes spinning rapidly in
its socket, lingering slightly longer on Harry and Sirius. "We go through one
at a time, myself and then Arthur, followed by each of you one at a time in
descending order of age with Harry going last with Padfoot, and Molly bringing
up the rear behind him."
Harry rolled his eyes as he absently carded his fingers through Padfoot's fur.
The whole thing seemed rather ridiculous to him, but he still held his tongue
just like he had with Mrs. Weasley previously. As ridiculous as they might seem
to him he knew that it wasn't without cause, and it made her feel better at any
rate. So, he swallowed his objections and listened as Moody continued. "When we
get there, no one is to go out alone. You are to have at least one person with
you at all times, and we will all meet back at the Cauldron at 4:15 sharp. Is
that clear?"
Each of the teens nodded in affirmative or mumbled appropriately before they
began to file out. When it came to be Harry's turn, he stood in front of the
fireplace and eyed it forebodingly before taking a handful of powder and
stepping inside. there was literally no form of magical travel that Harry had
found yet that he actually liked or could tolerate. He didn't think his broom
really counted because even Muggles could fly after all.
"Now remember dear, speak very clearly," Mrs. Weasley reminded him as she tried
her best not to smirk.
Harry just glared at her halfheartedly. He had only taken this particular form
of travel once before after all and it had ended terribly. Well, sort of… Which
reminded him that he would need to visit Knockturn Alley again at some point.
He hadn't really had the time to explore before.
"I will Mrs. Weasley," he said making sure to pronounce her name very acutely
to tease her. Drawing the power into the fire. "Diagon A-l-ley." The next thing
that he knew he felt like he was in a gyroscope, twisting and turning and
spinning. He remembered what Mrs. Weasley had told him the last time and drew
his arms in against the sides tightly and closed his eyes against the sickness
that he felt rising up and waited for it to end.
The next thing he knew he heard Mr. Weasley's voice chuckling in amusement.
"Still haven't got the hang of Floo-travel do you lad?"
Harry opened his eyes to find that the world had tilted. Mr. Weasley was
standing overtop of him smirking, and extended his hand to help Harry up. He
took the offered hand but said nothing, grumbling to himself about rubbish
magical travel. "None of it works bloody right…" Mr. Weasley just patted him on
the shoulder, chuckling quietly but said nothing.
"Did Harry make it through alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she came through.
This served to set off a new round of laughter. Mrs. Weasley looked around them
confused for a moment before she spotted Harry, who just waved at her but
remained resolutely silent.
"All right idgits," Moody interrupted. "It's 15 min. to noon. No one is to go
anywhere alone and we will meet at Floreen Fortisques at 3:30 sharp." He
reiterated his earlier statement.
"Well, why don't we all go to the bank first," Hermione suggested quickly. "I
need to convert a few pounds anyway and afterward we can split up into groups."
Everyone considered the suggestion and found themselves nodding in agreement.
It was a logical course of action; no matter what they planned to do
individually they would all need gold, but Harry found his jaw tightened in
frustration at the suggestion. It wasn't that she was wrong to suggest it, of
course, she was right but it would raise questions when instead of going
directly to his vault he asked to see a financial advisor. It wasn't that he
was trying to hide it, but it would simply be faster and a lot less hassle
alone.
Still, he thought. It would give him a chance to talk to the twins privately.
Molly would object, of course, but at least she would not be able to overhear.
With this thought in mind, Harry nodded his own ascent, not that anyone was
paying attention except maybe Padfoot who barked in agreement himself.
With their course of action set, the group made their way to Gringotts quickly.
Being such a large group, the noonday crowd gave them a rather wide berth. As
they moved through the alley Harry settled up next to the twins addressing them
as discreetly as possible. "So, I'm going to see a man about some investments
and I thought you two might like to join me for that conversation I mentioned.
I might have a business opportunity of interest to you."
Fred and George looked at him curiously but nodded in agreement. After that,
Harry walked away toward the front of the group and the entrance of the bank,
taking the stairs two at a time.
Open twenty-four hours, the upper floors of Gringotts more closely resembled a
cathedral than it did a bank, at least in Harry's opinion. The floors were
polished marble and the walls were decked in gold and jewels gave off an air of
flash and opulence. Harry often wondered at the fascinating dichotomy of the
goblin race, both warlike and greedy as all hell but then again, humans or very
similar in that respect.
Shrugging off his thoughts he looked back at the twins and motioned for them to
follow him. With any luck, they would be taken back and away from Mrs. Weasley
before she realized that anything was amiss. It wasn't that he was trying to
hide anything from her except for the fact that he was, but he knew that she
would disapprove and Mrs. Weasley's disapproval of Harry and his actions was an
entirely different thing than it was of her own boys, and in the end it would
benefit them all as well as helping the twins to achieve their own goals.
So, making sure the twins were with him he quickly and quietly made his way to
one of the tellers' desks on the far end of the bank. The problem with this
plan of Harry's was that it was just on noon, as such the bank was very busy
with non-free tellers. Stopping or a moment to gauge the different line sizes
and decide what to do he sighed. The waiting wasn't an issue per se, but…
Making a decision he walked up to the shortest line that he can find that only
had five patrons. Making sure the twins were following, he walked up to the
witch at the front of the line. "Forgive me ma'am," he said drawing her
attention. "It's terribly rude of me to ask but my friends and I are on a
schedule and their parents are waiting on us." He gestured to the twins as a
visual aid. "If we don't hurry we'll be left behind. Is there any way that I
could impose upon you to have your spot in line?" He pointedly ignored the
twins quietly chuckling behind him.
To be fair, he wasn't technically lying. Mrs. Weasley and the others were or at
least would be waiting on them. They just wouldn't leave the bank without him.
The witch in question turned her attention to him with a scowl, she opened her
mouth intent to decline and tell the boy exactly what she thought but froze
before she could. She raked her gaze over the boy. A look of irritation
morphing to one of shock and her mouth snapped shut. "O-oh my," she stammered
out. "Of course, Mr. Potter."
Harry smiled gratefully as the woman stepped aside and allowed him to have her
place in line. "Thank you so much," he said. I hate to ask, but…" His smile
turned a bit embarrassed and apologetic in combination. He stuck his hand out
for her to shake as he introduced himself. "It seems a bit moot, but I'm Harry
Potter."
She knew his name of course but it was polite all the same to introduce
himself. They were English after all, he thought to himself with a private
smirk. He felt the twins smirking behind him as well but wisely ignored it.
The witch, meanwhile, flushed as if she had forgotten herself. "O-oh yes, "she
said hurriedly and took his hand. "Agatha, Agatha Christie."
Harry raised his eyebrow curiously. "Agatha Christie," he asked incredulously.
"Really, any relation to the writer?"
Agatha chuckled. "Oh heavens no. But my mother has been a fan for a very long
time and she insisted."
Harry chuckled as well, but before he could respond the goblin behind the
counter cleared his throat pointedly. Harry repeated the action somewhat
awkwardly. He had nearly forgotten that they were holding up the line. "Ah,
yes, my apologies," he aimed the statement to the goblin before turning back to
Agatha. "Well, it was very nice to meet you."
"Indeed Mr. Potter, indeed…"
Turning his attention back to the teller he asked for assistance. "Yes, my name
is Harry Potter," he said ignoring the goblins scowl. They didn't like it when
you held up business. If Harry didn't know any better he could swear that they
were Ferengi. "I would like to see an accountant. I'm not sure if the Potters
have one, but if they don't then I would like to hire one."
"… And do you have your key?"
Harry nodded in confirmation. "I do…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out
the vault key. Mrs. Weasley had returned it just after breakfast. He handed it
to the goblin and waited as he inspected it.
He had often wondered about the function of the key. What could be so special
about it other than to open his vault, but during his studies with Sirius he
had learned that they were quite important and he was very lucky Mrs. Weasley
was the one in possession of it until now. As it turned out, one's vault key
held an imprint of their magical signature and not only is that what bypassed
the security measures of their vault, but the goblins used it as a form of
identification for every Wizard. Although personally, Harry found it a bit
disturbing that the goblins had a copy of every Wizards magical signature.
The goblin returned his key to him and responded to the statement. "The Potters
do indeed have an accountant under their employ here. I will inform him that
you wish to see him." The goblin picked up a quill and jotted down a quick note
on a piece of parchment and the piece of parchment disappeared in a flash of
white light. "Would you and your party like a conference room?" The goblin
asked peering at the twins and Padfoot.
Harry adopted a curious expression. "Would you recommend one, Master Goblin?"
Harry, of course, knew that the goblin would respond positively. Being a group
of four they met Gringotts requirements for use of the conference room, but
more than that Gringotts would charge them for the use of the conference room.
Greedy bastards.
The goblin nodded predictably. "I would Mr. Potter. With such a large group
your accountant's office may be a bit of a tight fit." It was probably a lie,
of course. Even with what little Harry knew of goblin architecture, the room
was probably extremely large but even if it wasn't it could be magically
expanded. Still, Harry acquiesced with a nod.
"Very good Mr. Potter." The teller looked down at something on his desk and
snapped his fingers. As he did this, another younger looking goblin came
running towards him from somewhere that Harry couldn't see. "Gobbo! Take this
young man and his friends to conference room D."
Gobbo nodded hastily. "Of course, sir." He said a bit breathlessly before
turning to Harry and his friends. "If you'll follow…"
The group nodded and followed the little goblin through the Halls. "That was a
surprise, Harry." George commented as they walked.
Fred chuckled in response to his brother's comment. "Yeah Harry, it was
impressive. We would be furious at you if you knew you had dared to use your
fame to your advantage like that."
It was a factual statement shrouded in mockery. Snape had always hated him. It
was the worst-kept secret at Hogwarts. If the greedy bastards ever found out
then he would be positively apoplectic. Harry just shrugged in indifference.
"That alone seems reason enough to make an exception to me."
"Ooo…" Both twins exclaimed in shocked amusement at Harry's display of
ferocious indifference.
"Harsh, but not unwarranted," George conceded. "Still out of character though.
What made you do it?"
Harry just shrugged again. "We were in a hurry," he stated the obvious.
It was true enough, although they all knew that there was more to it. In the
four and a half years that they had known Harry, he had never once used his
fame for anything let alone something so petty as a schedule.
In truth, Harry had thought long and hard about his plan and the course that he
had chosen to take his life; and he had come to several major conclusions, one
of them being the fact that influence was power in this world. If he wanted to
succeed in his endeavor been he could not do so through brute force alone.
That, however much he might despise it, his fame gave him that influence - that
power. If he could use it right then it was a weapon to be wielded. It was not
his only weapon, but it was possibly his most effective; and although its first
use may be petty, Harry wanted to see if he could use it.
Seeing that no answer would be forthcoming, Fred decided to change the topic of
conversation. "Speaking of being in a hurry, what exactly is this thing that
you wanted to talk to us about?" Fred asked curiously.
Harry just smiled and shook his head. "It's a surprise," he told them vaguely.
"But I will tell you that I think you'll be very pleased with what I have in
mind."
Gobbo led the group to a large room. It was rather Spartan in design which
wasn't a surprise. Contrary to popular belief, goblins did not like to display
their valuables in the open as many witches and wizards thought. No, they
preferred to hoard their wealth, hence the underground vaults.
As a result of this mentality, the room was essentially bare: marble floors,
walls of obsidian covered in aged tapestries depicting what Harry assumed to be
ancient goblin battles; presumably against wizards if his history of magic
class was any indication. He really should pay more attention. The dominating
feature of the room was a large stone slab in the center that Harry assumed was
meant to be the conference table. It too was decidedly bare, holding a simple
serving tray with glasses and a jug, surrounded by surprisingly modern seating.
Goblin hospitality, he supposed.
A particularly grizzled looking goblin sat at the head of the table and stood
up when he saw them approach. He stuck his hand out in greeting for Harry to
shake and nodded to the others. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. My name is Gold-Digger,
your family accountant and I must say that I wasn't expecting to see you for a
couple of years yet." He motioned for the trio to sit.
Harry shook the hand offered to him; trying not to laugh as he introduced
himself. "Well, I hope it's no trouble," he said politely and took the chair he
was indicated, motioning for the twins to do the same. "But I have a few
business opportunities that I'd like to discuss."
Gold-Digger shook his head with a chuckle. "No, of course not. It's my job.
Will your Godfather be joining us?" All four wizards froze, their eyes locking
on Gold-Digger wide as saucers. "Be at peace young wizard." The goblin raised
his palm in a calming gesture. "Mr. Black is in no danger here."
Harry looked at the goblin questioningly and he obliged, unasked. "There is
very little that enters Gringott's halls that we goblins are unaware of;
moreover Mr. Black is not a convict – one cannot be convicted without a trial –
and even were he, Gringotts is sovereign soil and he has committed no crime
against Goblin-kind."
Gold-Digger watched as his client relaxed and Sirius Black transformed and
joined them. The Animagus transformation had always fascinated him. It was one
of those rare branches of magic that were beyond his people. "Well then Mr.
Potter, what can I do for you today." He asked once Sirius was settled.
"Although, in the interest of disclosure I should warn you that you are unable
to access your Family vaults until midnight on your seventeenth birthday. Until
that time, all transactions are restricted to your trust."
This struck Harry's interest. "Yes, about that; I have been meaning to ask, how
exactly does that work? I assume, of course, that it comes from the Family
fortune, but beyond that…"
Gold-Digger nodded affirmatively. "Indeed. Your Trust is structured so that it
is to supply for all your needs until your seventeenth birthday, to be
replenished yearly on January first to the sum of one-hundred-thousand
Gallions."
Harry nodded absently in thought. Was that right? And yet Harry got a distinct
impression that it had not achieved that goal. "Is there any way to account for
what is currently in it versus what has been spent over say… the last fourteen
years?"
Sirus eyed his godson silently. He could guess his thought process and he once
again hated himself for his irresponsible choices. Reaching over, he squeezed
his godson's hand and Harry looked at him with a Sad smile.
Unaware of the byplay between the two, Gold-Digger answered the question with a
quick calculation. "Well, without a full audit I can't say with one hundred
percent certainty, but at an educated approximation, with six percent interest
accrued annually… Around Twenty point seven…"
"Thousand gallions?" Harry interrupted.
Gold-Digger shook his head. "No, Mr. Potter. Twenty point seven Million."
"Merlin's sweaty balls Harry!" Fred and George exclaimed together in shock.
"We knew that you were loaded," George continued. "But Shit mate."
Fred concluded the diatribe. "We may just have to start calling you sugar daddy
by the end of this," he teased the younger boy.
The frightening part, had the two redheads noticed, was the devious smirk the
declaration elicited from Harry. "By the end of this meeting I may just hold
you to that," he muttered and then turned his attention back to the Goblin.
"I have a couple of major items to discuss today. I know that the magical
community as a whole has the equivalent of the Muggles stock exchange." He
began. He had always wondered how purebloods amassed such massive wealth; it
turned out that, that prejudice did not extend to money. Also, according to
Sirius, British wizards were quite behind the rest of the magical world.
Another issue to deal with, he thought privately. "With this in mind, I would
like to purchase controlling interest in The Daily Prophet."
Gold-Digger huffed to himself and consulted his folder. "Yes… yes, I think that
will work just fine." He muttered to himself. "That's doable Mr. Potter." He
made a note in the file. "Even though it's a British based company it has an
Irish circulation, making it internationally traded."
"Who owns it," Harry asked curiously.
"Well, the Potter estate already holds twenty percent, which is helpful because
you only need thirty-one percent to wrest control. The other eighty is divided
between the Malfoys with thirty-nine percent and the rest belonging to Annabeth
Fudge with a controlling forty-one percent."
"The Ministers Wife," Sirius supplied.
Harry sat up, his eyes filled with sudden understanding – something important
dropping into place. The magical community appeared to be very slim on laws
involving corruption; at least laws they followed, being that Magical Britain
was subject to the crown just like its muggle counterpart (Something Harry had
learned courtesy his Run-in with its legal system) but even if that weren't the
case, Fudge had sidestepped that by the fact that his wife – a private citizen
– held control.
"Clever, very clever." The more he learned about their minister the more he
discovered what a sly politician Cornelius Fudge really was.
"The only problem that I foresee is consent," Gold-Digger said. When they all
looked at him, he elaborated. "You are under seventeen, Mr. Potter. A purchase
of this magnitude will require the consent of a Guardian." He eyed Sirius
meaningfully.
A look of comprehension crossed Sirius' face. "That's why you wanted me here,"
he said before it fell in sorrow. "I'm sorry pup, but I can't."
Harry nodded, a sly smile never leaving his face in contradiction to his
Godfather. "Of course, you can," he argued. "And yes, it was – partially. The
rest really was to get you out of that house."
"No, I can't Harry," Sirius said urgently. "Even if I haven't been tried, I'm
still a wanted man. "The Ministry will contest anything I sign for you."
Harry grinned savagely; showing enough teeth to put a goblin warrior to shame.
"Precisely… If I wanted this to be easy I would have pulled Mr. Weasley in
here. He is my court-appointed guardian."
The three humans looked on confused, but Gold-Digger smiled in understanding.
"Oh, that's very good Mr. Potter. Almost Goblin-like even…"
"Indeed, you honor me Master Goblin. It's called creating context. Does anyone
else care to take a guess?" Harry asked Sirius and the twins.
The room was silent for a few moments as the three contemplated. It was Fred
that got there first, his eyes widening in realization. "Fuck me! That's
brilliant." Seeing his brother and Sirius lost he explained with a nod from
Harry. "When the Ministry contests the legality, Harry can flip it and provide
evidence of Sirius innocence and argue for his freedom. Plus - if I'm not
mistaken," He looked at Harry in question. "He should be able to assert his
emancipation because he was forced to participate in the Triwizard tournament
without the consent of said guardian."
Harry nodded with a pleased smile. "And they've given me a platform to argue
before the full Wizengamot. Meanwhile, while we're all debating it I have the
Prophet."
George grinned madly while Sirius looked at his Godson slack-jawed. "That would
completely destroy the ministry's credibility."
Harry's face morphed into one of innocence. "Would it?!" He asked deceptively
like the idea had just occurred to him. Meanwhile, Harry found his arms full of
his godfather. Harry patted his back reassuringly, whispering. "It won't be
easy, but I'll get it done. I reward loyalty…"
Sirius looked up at him, tears streaking his eyes. "I know that I said it
before, but I'm with you Harry, Whenever and wherever – however you need." To
illustrate his sincerity, he rose to his feet, adjusting Harry's chair so that
he stood in front of the boy and bent to one knee, drawing his wand and
offering it up to Harry as one would a sword to his king.
"I, Sirius Orion Black, do swear on my life and Magic that I and my descendants
shall serve Harrison James Potter as my Liege Lord from now until my dying
breath or my lord release me; never cause him harm and will observe my homage
to him completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit. So mote
it be."
The humans sat there in shock, with bated breath. The magical pressure in the
room was stifling and increasing with every phrase uttered, waiting for Harry
to accept or reject the oath – all knowing that if Harry chose to reject it
that the magic would kill Sirius, the pressure snapping his neck, his life-
force used to fuel a curse against the House of Black.
For his part, Harry was not surprised. What he did not expect was for the older
man to do so, so publicly but he had expected it eventually. Sirius was by no
means perfect; he had made his mistakes, some would say the worst of them but
Harry trusted Sirius more than anyone else in his life. With that in mind, the
boy rose to his feel standing as tall as his short stature would allow, looking
down at his godfather. He reached down and took his godfather's wand from his
open palm, letting the magic guide him as he spoke. "I honor your pledge bound
by your word before the Gods and Goddesses on this day to be carried forth
through all days in life and through death, accepting the troth of you and
yours in good faith and respect. So shall it be."
As Harry spoke his acceptance of the Black Lord's fealty, golden threads of
magical energy flowed from the wand at both ends. One snared Harry's wrist
while the other shot forth penetrating Sirius chest over his heart before it
faded.
Gold-Digger who had remained silent throughout it all with a decidedly bored
expression (Human Politics held little interest to him) made a new note I his
binder and spoke softly. "In the name of Lamashtu the mother, so it is
witnessed, so it shall be." He invoked as witness, thereby sealing the ritual
oath and concluding the ritual.
"Well, the purchase should be straightforward enough." Gold-Digger commented
when his client and his guest had re-situated themselves. "The only question
is, which shareholders you wish to purchase from - the Malfoy's or Fudges, or
both? That may be the best option. You could have controlling interest before
either of them realize that something happened."
Harry adopted a calculated expression, considering his options or at least
appearing to do so. In truth, he already knew exactly what he wanted to do.
"No, I don't want to play this safe." Harry told the goblin. "I want it to
hurt. Take it all from Annebeth Fudge; every last Gillion and Shickle." His lip
curled slightly as he gave the order. It was cold and heartless, but if they
wanted to slander him for all to see and he would retaliate. Gold-Digger nodded
and transcribe the instruction as Harry continued. "Also, go ten percent over
purchase price said that there's no chance that they can stop the purchase."
The twins turned to look at Harry. "Damn Harry, "George said. "When did you
become so ruthless?"
Harry looked at him inquiringly. Before he could answer, however, Sirius
answered. "Oh, he can be when it counts," he said recalling the night that he
had met Harry in the Shrieking Shack. He had no trouble believing the boy would
have killed him that night had it not been for the timely interruption of
Severus.
Harry nodded and said vaguely, "there was also that night with Quirrel."
Granted, he had not known that his touch would be deadly to the other man, but
when he had discovered that fact he had not hesitated for a moment and had
relentlessly burned the man to ash; not that he told them any of that.
Gold-Digger drew their attention once more. "You said you had another matter to
discuss with me, Mr. Potter?"
"I do," Harry confirmed motioning toward Fred and George. "My friends here are
interested in starting a small business – a joke shop if I remember correctly."
Harry looked to the twins for confirmation but received none. Having figured
out where Harry was going and why they had been invited, the twins were looking
at him with wide eyes. "I would like to provide capital for this venture.
Somewhere around the sum of five thousand Gallions should do it I think."
The Weasley had never been ones to accept charity; Fred and George immediately
objected, overcoming their shock. "Harry no… We could never accept that. Even
if we wanted to, we could never pay you back."
"Nonsense. Yes, you can, and you will, because it's not a gift - it's an
investment for my new business partners," he said absently. He wasn't really
focused on the twins as he spoke, but rather his accountant. "I will provide
the five-thousand Gallions capital startup in return for a third of the
ownership and profit. All administrative and managerial decisions however will
be the sole responsibility of Fred and George Weasley. If the business should
fall through however, then we will revisit the terms of the agreement at the
end of one year's time."
Gold-Digger observed his client speculatively. New and small businesses were
always a lottery, especially in the British community but the boy had shown
shrewd mind in the span of the short meeting and in truth, the terms of the
contract as Harry had laid them out, were not unwise. "I find myself reluctant
to agree, but the terms are not… Unacceptable," Gold-Digger conceded. "If, of
course, the Mr.'s. Weasley are agreeable of course?"
The twins shock and dismay gave way to excitement and gratitude. "Yes!" They
exclaimed leaping to their feet. "Absolutely!" Like Sirius had done Fred spun
Harry around in his seat and pulled him from it. Before Harry could speak, he
found his lips sealed by Fred's; the taller boy leaning over him engaged in a
heated kiss. One that was immediately duplicated by his brother.
Harry's eyes went wide and he froze in shock, but eventually, the shock gave
way and he began to return the kiss. "Well, all right then." He responded with
a slight smirk even as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"And what would the Mr's. Weasley like their business to be called?" Gold-
Digger drawled the question, clearing his throat. "And where would they like it
to be located?"
The twins remembered themselves and looked at the goblin still grinning. "Oh
yes, we've been thinking about this. The most optimal place would be Hogsmeade
of course and the name…" George looked at his brother for confirmation. "…
Marauders Mummeries, after our idols The Marauders."
Sirius burst out laughing, confusing the twins. The two boys looked at the man
in confusion, but it was Harry who spoke. "I'll explain later. For now, I think
our host is growing impatient...
"Yes indeed. Time is money after all." The group spent a few more moments
discussing the details before Gold-Digger concluded. "Well, all told, with the
property taxes, the spell work to ward and the property and the two-story
building itself, the estimation comes out at about fifteen hundred Gillions. If
you hold just a moment a runner should be here presently with the completed
contract to sign."
The group sat in silence while they waited.
"So… What was it that you found so funny earlier Sirius," Fred asked after a
few minutes effectively breaking the silence."
"Oh it was nothing," the older man said. "You just surprised me when you said
that the marauders were your idols."
"Well yes," George said as if it were obvious. "What's not to like? The
marauders are legendary." This brought about another round of laughter from
Sirius, and the two boys just looked confused again. "I feel like I'm missing
something."
"Well that's because you are," Harry commented absently holding a glass of
water from the center of the table. "Honestly I'm a bit surprised you haven't
figured it out sooner." When the twins looked at Harry in askance he simply
gestured to his Godfather. "Sirius?" Sirius Black rose with a bit of a smirk.
"Fred, George, let me introduce you to Padfoot -Marauder extraordinaire…" The
twins looked on with a slack-jawed expression as Sirius bowed with a flourish.
Harry laughed. "Seriously, did you never wonder why I call him Padfoot?"
"No way!" The boy said in unison." We just thought it was an honorary thing."
"Oh it gets better," Harry said with a smirk. "My dad was prongs, but that's
not all… Professor Lupin is Moony."
The twins looked like they were about to explode then, but before they could
respond there was a knock at the door. "Enter," Gold-Digger called.
The door opened and another nameless goblin stepped inside. "I have two
contracts here for you Master Gold-Digger," he said addressing the senior
goblin.
"Indeed. Sit them on the table and leave." The goblin did what he was told and
turned to leave. Gold-Digger made sure that the goblin was long gone before he
spoke. "The one on the left should be the acquisition of The Daily Prophet. The
one on the right should bring the agreement between you and Mr's. Weasley. I
suggest you review both carefully before signing."
The group spent several moments in silence reviewing the papers, the only sound
being the rustle of parchment. "Well everything seems to be in order," Harry
broke the silence eventually, looking to his friends and Godfather for
confirmation. "Do you have a Quill," he asked the goblin when they all nodded.
Gold-Digger nodded and drew a jet-black Quill from his binder. "Considering the
circumstances, you and Mr. Black will need to sign The Daily Prophet
acquisition, and all four of you will need to sign the business deal," he said
when Harry took the Quill.
"What about ink," Harry asked.
It was Sirius who answered. "You won't need one," he explained. "That's a Blood
Quill. It uses the signatories own blood as the ink for the signing." Harry
looked disgruntled but Sirius elaborated the reasons. "Wizards sign all
contracts in blood. It prevents theft and forgery and makes the contract
binding."
Harry still did not look happy, but he put the Quill the paper and slowly
signed his name with a hiss as the Quill's magic dug into the back of his hand
etching his name and drawing blood. When he finished he handed the Quill to
Sirius who did the same, and then to the twins who handed the contract for
Marauders Mummeries to Harry and Sirius to repeat the process.
When they were done Sirius and the twins all drew their wands and they set
about healing themselves. Likewise, Sirius spared a moment to do so for Harry.
"Well, I suppose that that concludes our business," Gold-Digger said.
It was true, and they all rose from their seats. "Fred, George, why don't you
go back out to the lobby and meet your mother before she sends out a search
party," Harry said to them. "There's one more matter that I want to discuss
with Master Gold-Digger."
The twins looked curious but did not argue – quickly and quietly making their
exit. Gold-Digger looked at his client seriously as the door shut behind them.
"Something more I can help you with Mr. Potter?" He asked as he collected the
contracts.
"Yes and no," Harry said carefully. Harry took a moment to consider his words.
Even with the confidentiality that Gringotts offered he doubted it was a good
idea to misspeak when the goblins were involved. "More of a recommendation…"
This peaked the goblins interest and he looked at Harry motioning that he
should continue. "As I'm sure you are aware, I am in a precarious position and
have many enemies." When the goblin nodded he continued. "I feel that it has
become necessary to protect myself. The Muggles have many private security
firms where one can hire bodyguards for protection. I had never heard of such
services here in the magical community. Would you happen to know if or where
one could acquire such services?
Gold-Digger stopped what he was doing and peered at Harry through slitted lids.
The silence hung uncomfortably in the air, and Harry wondered if he had made a
mistake before the goblin spoke. "Let us not mince words, Mr. Potter. You wish
to hire a mercenary force, do you not?"
Harry winced but did not deny the assertion. "Preferably someone honorable and
trustworthy, capable of discretion for their clients," he said stiffly.
"I can certainly recommend someone," the goblin said oily. "… For a price."
Harry narrowed his eyes. There was that goblin greed that he had heard so much
about, and he said as much as well. It only made the goblin laugh. "What
price," he asked. The goblin's actions were not wholly unexpected, but he
wasn't about to let his guard down.
What followed was a tête-à-tête negotiation:
"Ten thousand Galleons," Gold-Digger said.
"Absolutely not. Six thousand."
The goblin grinned. "I like you Mr. Potter, so I'll go to eight thousand."
This time it was Harry that smirked. "Seventy-five hundred and Gringotts will
provide a goblin warrior for my team of four."
Gold-Digger looked positively ecstatic and laughed joyously. "Done, Mr. Potter.
I'm impressed. The goblin warrior will be waiting for you when you leave here.
Someone will be waiting to lead you. Back to the lobby as well. Your
acquisitions should be complete by the end of the day." He ripped a piece of
parchment from his binder and quickly scrolled a name before handing it to
Harry "You'll find them in Knockturn Alley"
Harry nodded firmly and turned back to the exit. Sirius transformed silently
and followed behind. Harry looked at the parchment. It read: Guardians of
Thedas.
Thedas as Harry had come to learn in the past weeks was the ancient name that
the wizards and witches of the world had given the planet. They had later come
to adopt the name Earth like their Muggle counterpart, but Harry was fascinated
by the idea of a deep and hidden history of the earth and life on it from a
magical perspective. He had vowed that he would put more of a personal effort
into History of Magic.
Predictably, Mrs. Weasley was the first person he heard when he reached the
lobby. "And where have you been Harry dear? We were starting to think that
maybe you gotten lost in the caverns."
Harry was shocked. He couldn't remember a time when he had heard Mrs. Weasley
make a joke. Still, Harry dawned a properly apologetic face with a bit of a
smile. "Well then," she pushed. "What had you so distracted then?"
"Oh, not much," Harry responded. "A little of this and a little of that. Turns
out that I have a lot of gold to count." He didn't want to lie to her, but he
wasn't about to tell her exactly what he was doing either. He thought that was
a nice compromise because it wasn't untrue, but he didn't give anything away.
And apparently, the twins agreed if the sly smirks were any indication.
"Well, let's go then." Moody said and they all headed toward the exit.
As they neared the doors a goblin warrior came into view, dressed and bronze
armor and addressed them as they approached. "Which one of you is Harry
Potter?"
"That would be me," he said from the back of the group, making his way to the
front so that he could address the goblin.
The goblin looked him over critically before nodding in acceptance. "My name is
Hoggle. I have been assigned to you as part of your agreement with Gold-
Digger."
"What agreement?" – Five simultaneous voices, including Hermione.
Harry sighed, suppressing a groan, and scrubbing his face with his hands.
Nothing was ever easy, was it? He knew that they would find out anyway, so he
may as well be honest. Besides, it was past time that he started taking
responsibility if he was serious about everything, but that didn't mean he had
to like it. "I have induced the services of Hoggle," he glanced at the goblin
to make sure that he had not offended with the use of his name; and was waved
off, but goblins were finicky. "He will serve as my…bodyguard," he chose the
term carefully. "…and other such capacities that pertain to my well-being until
such a time that my safety is assured beyond all doubt."
Hoggle nodded discreetly.
A bracing silence followed, everyone, digesting what Harry had said.
Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione that interpreted. "You mean you hired a
mercenary?" It was phrased like one but it was not a question, but then, he had
not expected her to be happy about it; she was not going to be happy when they
discovered that he intended to hire others.
Harry shrugged. "You say mercenary. I prefer, Personal Security."
"That's a bit extreme, don't you think Harry?" This was from Tonks, and Harry
shot her a withering look. She spoke quickly, to clarify herself, not that it
helped her case. "What I mean is, Dumbledore and the Order's protection should
be enough, and even so… He can't enter headquarters."
That was entirely the wrong thing to say apparently. Harry turned Icey. "You
mean Dumbledore, who continually permits danger into Hogwarts and hasn't spoken
to me since the end of last year. The Dumbledore who did nothing when I was
arrested – by you, no less – for defending myself, which I wouldn't have needed
had the Order done it's supposed job." Harry berated them, each of the adults
looking put-upon. The worst part of it was that he was right. "So if Dumbledore
has a problem with how I choose to protect myself then he can come and talk to
me, and you will forgive me in the meantime if my faith in the Order is
lacking."
The group reaction to his tirade varied. Tonks looked properly chastised, her
hair becoming a state of dark black that was more closely aligned with her
family genetics. Moody looked on in approval, but he seemed the type to
appreciate the sentiment. For her part, Molly looked torn between wanting to
chastise Harry and sorrow for the boy but she held her tongue.
The younger members of the group looked just as varied, illustrating a clear
divide. Ron looked flabbergasted at Harry's actions which wasn't that much of a
surprise. He was learning to see a very different side of his friend. The
twins, as ever, amused. They didn't miss any opportunity they could get to
flout authority. Ginny, likewise mirrored Moody with a look of approval – she
was glad to see Harry beginning to stand up for himself. It was Hermione, of
course, that looked fit to be tied. Ever the lover of authority, she looked
positively mutinous - ready to unleash on Harry for his disrespect of the
headmaster.
It was Mr. Weasley that stepped in to put a stop to the argument before it
could grow into a public spectacle – ever the mediator these days. "This is
neither the time or the place for this." He peered at Harry hard; not in
judgment, but concern. It hurt him to hear Harry say those things; not just
because they were true, but because of what they implied: Harry didn't
trust them with his safety; and Arthur worried that it may be driving Harry to
act rashly out of fear.
Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. He had solicited the goblins
services and if they tried to separate them now the goblin warrior would act
accordingly. Granted, the five adult wizards could probably take a single
goblin but it would not be pretty. "What's done is done," he said finally. "We
can discuss the logistics later if necessary, but for now he's here to protect
Harry, which was the point."
The three women looked ready to argue until suddenly Molly deflated. She looked
at Harry in frustration and sadness, and then to her husband and nodded
dejectedly. "Come along children, we have much to do." She said and turned and
ushered the children toward the exit.
Harry's brow furrowed in curiosity. He had expected much more of an argument
than that, especially from the redhead. It wasn't the first time that she had
done that either. In the last several days Molly Weasley had been rather out of
character, conceding several arguments that she would've otherwise persisted
about. How very odd.
"Okay everyone," Moody said outside the bank. "We all have things to do and not
a lot of time to do it. Split up as planned, but remember to stay in groups of
at least two and always have an adult with you."
Harry bit his tongue to contain the groan at being reminded for the billionth
time, but said nothing, watching silently as the group began to split. Ron
quickly chose the lesser of all evils and stuck to his brothers. Hermione and
Ginny came together escorted by Tonks. That left the three adults - Moody,
Arthur, and Molly without an escort. "What about you Lad," Moody asked noticing
that Harry had not moved to join a group.
Harry waved him off as casually as possible. "Oh, I'm just fine. I have my
goblin friend with me and trusty Padfoot." He patted the Grimm's fur for
emphasis and Padfoot barked. "Besides, didn't Mrs. Weasley have a letter to
write?" He said gently. The old Auror eyed him suspiciously with his single
good eye, while the other one spun in its socket rapidly. He could tell that
none of the three were happy about the idea and moved to placate them. "Look,
we all agree – grudgingly – that Padfoot is an adult." The dog growled at
Harry's side. "Plus, I'm in the requisite group of three, following all the
rules we laid out. I just have something I want to go check out on my own, and
then buy my new robes. If I'm even thirty seconds late for the rendezvous then
you can launch a search party."
The three looked mutinous but nodded in agreement.
Harry smiled and nodded, waving as he watched the group began to disperse. Once
they had sufficiently vanished and the crowd Harry sighed and turned to the
goblin. "Bloody hell! Convincing them of anything is like pulling teeth." He
pulled the slip of parchment that he is accountant had given him from his
pocket and handed it to Hoggle. I need to go here, but I have only been to the
alley briefly once. It's not your job, but would you mind terribly leading the
way?"
Hoggle looked at the note and arced a thick brow. "So, I'm not to be the only
one under your employ today am I then Mr. Potter?"
Harry quickly elaborated. "No, but I assure you that it's not a critique of
your ability. I simply prefer a well-rounded team. And please, call me Harry.
After all, I imagine we will be together for some time."
"Perhaps in private Mr. Potter," the goblin conceded. "But we are not in
private, and it would be inappropriate for me to address my employer informally
in public." Harry nodded in acceptance of this explanation. "As to the other
matter, it was not a criticism. On the contrary, goblins are aware of their
shortcomings and your logic shows great wisdom."
"So, the goblins are aware of Voldemort's return then?" Harry asked as they
moved through the crowd toward the dark shadows of Knockturn Alley." You
believe that he is back then?"
"Our agreement was not predicated on whether or not we believe the Dark Lord
has returned or not," Hoggle answered without looking at Harry. "You struck a
bargain with Gold-Digger, and that bargain is being honored. Whether or not
your Dark Wizard has returned is a matter for those above my pay grade.
However…" He paused for a moment and considered his words carefully. Harry was
his client, but he could not break the confidence of Gringotts. "It is my
understanding from sources within, that there has been a marked shift in the
account activity of certain associates of the Dark Lord."
It was generally accepted that Knockturn Alley was a vastly different place
than its counterpart; Harry had gotten a taste of that back in his second year,
but this time, now that Harry had more time to immerse himself in the
environment and observe, he noticed just how different. It wasn't just a
physical difference. It felt different. Gone was the warm welcoming feeling of
Diagon alley; this place felt cold and foreboding, not hostile per se but it
felt as if the alley did not want Harry to be there, that it was urging him to
leave. Harry did not know if the source of the feelings were magical, or if he
was simply nervous and overreacting, having imagined the whole thing.
Either way, he followed Hoggle quickly through the long and winding paths of
the alley. The goblin seemed to note Harry's discomfort and addressed it. "It's
the magic of the alley. The wards are designed to repel those aligned to the
lighter magics. That will change the more that you expose yourself to the
darker elements and acclimate yourself."
Harry looked at the goblin in interest. Some people had a predisposition toward
dark or light magic? That was the first time that he had heard of such a thing.
He heard the phrase 'going dark' several times, of course – usually aimed at
him – but he had always assumed that it was simply a figure of speech.
He came to a large octagonal five-story building of pale stone that dominated
the corner of the alley. It reminded Harry a bit of the pictures that he saw of
the MI-5 headquarters. He didn't know what he expected, but he was impressed.
Hoggle moved to open the door and they moved inside into a large lobby area.
Harry was again surprised by how Muggle the environment was.
There was a young witch with long flowing blonde hair and a blood-red blouse -
interestingly not a robe, Harry noted - and red lipstick sitting behind the
desk as Harry approached. Curiously, now that he was here he found himself at a
loss for words. What do you do, just walk up to the desk and say 'yes, I'd like
to hire a private army?' Somehow, he doubted that would work out how he
planned. Swallowing his nerves, he cleared his throat to draw the receptionist
attention.
She looked down at him with a smile. "Can I help you," she asked with practice
politeness.
It was probably nothing, but something about it just rubbed Harry the wrong
way. He never did like when people pretended, even if it was to be nice. He
much preferred people who were up front about their feelings. "Yes," he said
ignoring this. "I would like to speak to someone about soliciting the services
of Thedas."
"I'm sorry," she said sweetly making Harry's jaw tighten. "Thedas only serves
those who are of age."
Harry bit his tongue to contain his ire. If he were healthier and Taller then
she would not have assumed he was underage; never mind that he was. Ron was his
age and over six foot tall. He was willing to bet that he would not be turned
away. "Yes, well about that, it's very important and if you consult with your
supervisor then I'm sure that he'll see me." He leaned into the desk smiling
flirtatiously, brushing his bangs aside.
The blond's eyes widened. "O-o-o-of C-course," she stuttered. "Right away sir."
Harry leaned back; away from the receptionist's desk and waited as she
scrambled for something out of view. "Mr. Lynch," she said softly and then
again, a bit more urgently. "Mr. Lynch… Callum!" She finally snapped.
"Yes, what is it Rebecca," a male voice answered after a second – presumably
Callum Lynch – somewhat irritability.
Harry should have felt guilty and hated it, but he found that he greatly
enjoyed the change in attitude that his heavy-handedness had caused. Was that
why Draco was such a pompous prick? Granted, Harry could never be such a dick,
but there was allure in the power it gave him.
"Well, I have a bit of a high-profile case out here asking to see someone and
he says it's important."
"Becky, it's always important and they all think that they are high-profile,"
Lynch was saying with a touch of disdain. "Especially those Pureblood bastards.
Just because they have money doesn't make them high-profile."
Rebecca looked horrified and glanced at Harry quickly. "Sir, It's Harry Potter,
and he has an entourage."
There was a moment of silence and Harry decided to be smug and interject. "He
can also hear you; I'm not pureblood, but I do have money!"
There was a beat of silence. "You should have led with that Rebecca," Lynch
said coolly. "I'll be with you in a moment Mr. Potter. Goddamn it…" Harry heard
from Lynch before it went silent.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Potter," Rebecca hurried to say. "Can I get you anything?"
Harry just smiled and waved her off. He imagined that after he was gone she
would get quite the dressing down. He would have mercy on her now. It was only
a couple of moments anyway before Mr. Lynch showed up, practically marching out
of some hallway. He was tall with rough features, close-cropped brown hair and
a bit of a five o'clock shadow. He also wore a slim fit navy-blue suit that
hinted at an athletic build. "Callum Lynch, Mr. Potter. It's nice to meet you,"
he extended his hand.
Harry reciprocated the gesture. "I don't imagine that many people consider it a
pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lynch," Harry chuckled.
"Oh, you might be surprised by that," Lynch smiled and gestured down the path
from which he had come.
Harry followed the man with a polite nod. "Judging from your apparent dislike
of purebloods Mr. Lynch, I'm going to guess that you're a Muggle-born?"
The other man had the decency to look apologetic. "Not strictly speaking," he
said cryptically. "My family has had wizards and witches before, but few and
far between. Squibs for the most part," he clarified. Understanding flitted
across Harry's face and he nodded as Mr. Lynch entered an office. Again, Muggle
in the design with black leather sofas and a glass coffee table in the center
of the room, and oak desk at one end and a stained maple cabinet that Harry
assumed held alcoholic beverages of some kind. "Please sit Mr. Potter. Wherever
you like," he said with a vague gesture to the room. "What can I do for you? I
must admit that the possibility of having you as a client is highly irregular."
Harry took his seat at one of the sofas and waited for Mr. Lynch to close the
door and join him before he spoke, but before he could, when he shut the door
Sirius transformed back into human form and join him on the sofa with a
relieved sigh while Hoggle remained standing unobtrusively in the corner.
"Sirius!" Harry snapped in shock and prepared to bolt.
"Relax welp," Sirius said soothingly "It's safe here. My family has had ties to
Mr. Lynch's ilk for a few generations," he smirked.
"What! And you didn't think to tell me this?"
"I didn't know anything about this until you said something to Gold-Digger in
Gringotts." Sirius defended himself sharply. "How was I supposed to know? You
never said… Maybe if you told me what you were planning I could help," he said
pointedly. "But besides, if I had said something then you never would've got
Hoggle," he gestured to the goblin.
"Besides," Lynch but in. "It wouldn't be very good for business if we turned in
every wanted fugitive that passes through our doors." He smirked teasingly at
Sirius.
"Still..." Harry groused being forced to concede the point. "Why didn't you use
them yourself after you escaped Azkaban?"
"Who said I didn't?" Sirius asked him. "How do you think I got out of Britain
after I left Hogwarts? I only came back after I learned that you had been
entered into the tournament."
"And that brings us full circle," Harry said taking the opportunity to get to
the point. "I don't know how much attention you pay to current events Mr.
Lynch, but Voldemort returned through a dark ritual at the end of my fourth
year; if that wasn't enough there was an attempt on my life this year as well."
Mr. Lynch nodded clinically. It was not his job to judge his clients. Whether
he believed Harry are not was irrelevant. "I would like to hire a team of three
to join my friend, Hoggle," here he gestured to the goblin.
"And their duties and responsibilities?" Mr. Lynch asked leadingly.
Harry looked at the man carefully considering. "Their primary concern should be
my well-being," he said without a thought. "Sadly, I have a habit of getting
into… Let's call them questionable situations. To that end, it would be
appreciated if their other responsibilities were more… Vaguely defined by my
discretion?"
Lynch nodded slowly in understanding. "I understand Mr. Potter…" The Boy -Who -
Lived was looking for a private army. Although you couldn't say that out right
and maintain deniability. This wasn't the first time someone had solicited the
services of Thedas for such tasks, but Lynch had to give the boy credit for how
carefully and clearly, he spoke. ".. We can accommodate you, Mr. Potter.
Although, I cannot say that it will be cheap."
Harry waved him off. "I'm not looking for inexpensive. If I were I wouldn't be
here."
Lynch smiled approvingly of Harry's attitude. "Then do you have any preferences
or requirements that we should take into account?"
"Actually, yes although I'm not looking for discretion," Harry confirmed. "I'm
looking for a well-rounded team. To that end, I have a few requirements that
may or may not be somewhat difficult to meet." When Lynch nodded for him to
continue he explained. "I would like a team composed of the following members:
a human which or Wizard, a dark creature -preferably a werewolf – and a
Halfblood hybrid. It is my experience that they tend to be both spell resistant
and have a propensity toward… Violence." He thought of Hagrid as he said this.
The gentle half-Giant was not intentionally violent but it was in his nature.
"At least one of the members should be an accomplished healer."
"I see," Lynch said. "That should be doable." He stood up and moved to his desk
and opened a drawer. He pulled out a stack of papers - actual modern paper -
and rifled through them until he found what he was looking for. "Here we are,"
he said to himself. He pulled out a rather thick packet of papers that had been
stapled together and put the rest back, closing the drawer. Opening the middle
drawer he rifled and pulled out what Harry saw was another black blood Quill.
Closing the drawer, he picked something up off his desk. Harry looked at it
closely; it looked like a hand-sized portable mirror. "Gideon darling," he said
patiently. "Would you notify Team Cerberus and tell them to come to my office?"
Afterward, he moved back to the table. "It should only be a moment," he said.
"In the meantime, I'm going to need you to sign this." He slid the packet
across the table to Harry he spent a moment looking through it. As he did so,
Lynch explained. "It's the contract agreement. It's all strictly confidential,
containing mutual nondisclosure agreements. We cannot release your name or any
details about you or our agreement without your express permission, and
likewise, you cannot speak of any of the members of Thedas that you associate
with over the course of the contract or any details you learn of the
organization during this period. It also contains an invoice that details the
total amount owed to Guardians of Thedas and a breakdown of the cost
expenditure."
Harry handed the contract to his Godfather to review as well. "Ten thousand
Gillions," he asked somewhat surprised.
"Well yes. It covers many things including equipment maintenance, personal
injury costs - only a fraction - surprisingly we are insured." He learned of
this and Harry smirked likewise. "Death benefits, etc. etc.…"
"Understandable," Harry agreed and looked at his Godfather for confirmation.
"Will Sirius need to sign this as well? We needed two signatures a couple of
times today, what with my status as a minor."
"All things considered, I think we can forget that. Given the nature of the
contract and the nondisclosure, your signature should be enough."
Hearing this, Harry took the contract from his Godfather and set it on the
table, picking up the Quill and quickly signed, gritting his teeth slightly.
When he was done he sat the Quill down and Sirius pulled his wand and healed
Harry's hand again.
Lynch smiled and picked up the contract sitting it on the couch next to him.
"Excellent!" He exclaimed. "You can come now! Now I will show you a team. It
should fit you perfectly, but if it doesn't then we can discuss it and choose
another team."
Harry nodded as the door opened and three figures walked in. One was a petite
girl who looked to be about 27 years old with brown hair and slightly
aristocratic features. "Bonjour," she said politely. French then.
The next was a tall man of about six foot five, who looked to be in his
thirties with gaunt British features. He held a cane in both of his hands and
wore black sunglasses. He did not speak when he entered the room.
The third and final member of the group of which surprised Harry because he
recognized the man. "Marcus Flint?!"
The outburst caused Marcus to turn and look. A look of recognition flashed in
his eyes as he saw Harry sitting on the couch and he smirked, his large teeth
making it look slightly more deranged than it would have otherwise. "Potter,
what a surprise."
"So you two know each other than," it wasn't a question. It was obvious.
"Marcus will act as your heavy hitter or your tank as we have dubbed it. In the
event of attack, he is your shield. It is his job to draw the attack and take
the hit." Lynch explained. "This particular creature inheritance makes him
particularly suited to this task, and others as you've asked."
Harry's gaze lingered on Flint a moment longer before he moved on. "And the
others?"
"The girl is the witch that you ask for. Her name is…."
"The witch can speak for herself," she interrupted hotly. She turned to address
Harry. "My name is Amandine De Murr. I excel in healing and support, I was
tutored at Beuxbatons Academy and underwent an additional four years as an
apprentice in the healing arts until I achieved my mastery."
"Finally, we have Deucalion. Deucalion is one of our longest running employees,
and has various innate skills, as one would expect from an Alpha Werewolf."
Hearing this, Harry nearly bolted backward falling over the back of the couch
and reaching for his wand. The actions confused everyone in the room, and they
looked at him and concern. "What, scared Potter?" Flint teased.
Cullum was slightly more professional in his concern, however. "What's the
matter, Mr. Potter? You did ask for a werewolf agent."
Harry pulled himself up off the floor where he had fallen, eying Deucalion
wirrily. "Yes, but tonight is the full Moon. I didn't expect to be in the room
with one. How is he not…." Harry made a scary face and mimicked claws. "Grr,
Arrg!"
Comprehension dawned. It was Deucalion who answered. "I see…" He said
approaching Harry slowly. "If I might, I believe that you are more familiar
with Lycanthropes. These are werewolves that are bitten and that have no
control over their instincts or of the change during the full moon. Meanwhile,
I am a Loup-Garou – Born a Wolf. Think of it like different species of the
genus." Deucalion stopped and tried to think of a different way to interpret
his meaning that wouldn't be offensive. "Think of it like a bulldog amongst the
poodles," he grinned intentionally savage. The comparison made Harry laugh.
"While the moon can and does have an effect on me, I am more than capable of
controlling my instincts and the change."
Harry took a moment to observe Deucalion, to confirm for himself. The man
didn't appear to be haggard or otherwise ill affected by the moon. Taking a
breath to calm himself, he moved back to a seat. "I… I apologize for my
reaction," he said mostly to Deucalion. "I will have to study further on the
Loup-Garou. It sounds fascinating."
"They are acceptable then," Lynch asked.
Harry took another moment to look them over before he nodded in acceptance.
"They are to me. What about you Hoggle?" He asked the goblin behind him. "After
all, you will have to work with them."
Hoggle smirked in amusement. "Well, we haven't got an accounting of the
physical ability yet but I am a fan of the term trial by fire…"
Harry laughed. "I suppose that does it then. I assume they are aware of the
terms of their contract?"
"They are. Excellent. I will have the contract processed for the withdrawal of
the fee, but I don't think that will be a problem. If that's all then you're
free to go anytime with your new team."
"Actually, if everyone except Sirius, Mr. Lynch, and Flint could wait outside,
there is one more concern." The other three all looked at each other in
confusion but nodded and slowly made an exit, shutting the door behind them.
Once they were alone Harry looked at Marcus hard but spoke to Mr. Lynch. "I'm
going to need Mr. Flint to strip."
Mr. Lynch looked at Harry in question. "Strip?" Harry nodded in confirmation
and the man looked confused but nodded. "Mr. Flint, if you would remove your
clothes please."
"Completely," Harry put in. "Naked."
Marcus scowled but doing as he was told with a growl, stripping his close off
completely revealing a taught and athletic body with muscular arms and legs.
Harry stood up and approached Marcus, his eyes raking critically over the boy's
body. He wasn't aiming to see his bits, but Harry did notice that Marcus held a
rather hefty nine inches crowned by trimmed curls. "Turn around slowly until
you are facing me again," Harry ordered.
Marcus huffed in annoyance but did what he was told. "Like what you see
Potter," he asked mockingly as he faced the boy again.
"Actually, yes, I do," he admitted without trouble. "As enjoyable as it is,
however, getting an eye full is not my objective. Not to be rude but your
family has a rather public reputation for serving the man who wants to kill me.
So, as much as you might not like my oogling you; it would make me feel better
to make sure you didn't have any tattoos."
Marcus groused in anger but said nothing, standing there and letting Harry view
his fill until he was satisfied. "I'm satisfied," Harry said turning away. "You
can get dressed." He hesitated for a moment and added, "I apologize."
Marcus quickly put his clothes back on and looked at Harry piercingly. "Forget
it," he said roughly and fell silent.
"Well if that's it," Harry said with a loud sigh. "We will be going."
"That's it," Mr. Lynch confirmed. "It's a pleasure doing business with you Mr.
Potter."
With that, the three wizards left the office and joined the others in the hall.
"We can go," he said to them and they moved to leave. As they walked Harry
spoke to his Godfather. "You may want to change back, but your cousin was right
about something. We have to house them somewhere."
"Oh, I think I have a good place," Sirius said before changing back into the
Grim. "There is an old greenhouse out back of the house that can be cleaned out
and converted into barracks."
Harry grinned. "That's a good idea, I like it and they're technically not in
the house, are they? Now, let's go find Ron. We have some wardrobe shopping to
do."
Padfoot barked happily. It had been a good day…  
 
Chapter End Notes
     Harry's Nickname: I know Prongslet, Pup and Cub are the accepted
     norms, but they are also greatly over-used. I wanted something
     different and it was Welp or Young Buck
     I admit that conversation with Hermione at breakfast was unintended,
     at least so soon. Having said that, although it is fun and I do enjoy
     it, it IS NOT my intent to outright Bash Hermione. My dislike of her
     isn't personal. We should all be aware of the issues surrounding
     Hermione. Even JK said that Hermione got away from her. It is my
     Intent to tackle those issues and better acclimate Her. Having said
     that, at the same time I have NO idea what side of this Hermione will
     end up on.
     In regard to House elves and the bond to wizards I know that it's an
     old cliché, but it's one that I rather like and it fits.
     In regard to Harry's Height and lack of Emotional range:
     Even though Daniel is of Relatively average height at 5'5" Harry
     Potter is significantly shorter because of his upbringing. This is a
     common misconception - Like how people say Hermione is pretty because
     Emma Watson is. When in Cannon, Hermione is not very attractive.
     Similarly, I believe that Harry's upbringing would have left him
     significantly more emotionally stunted
     Last & most importantly:
     The Massive update was purely coincidence but it is advantageous
     because it will probably be the Last update of any of my current
     projects until after Christmas. In November I plan to participate in
     NanoWrimo and will post the chapters here as I finish. And Then I
     will have a house guest most of December. So, I hope that this big
     fucker tides you over and was worth the wait.
     Please Review. It's the lifeblood of inspiration!
End Notes
     First and Foremost, Oh my GOD the Feels! I know, I'm an awful Person.
     And I'm sure some of you Realize what I did with Lilly and where I
     took it from. I couldn't resist.
     Roberta Diggory:
     Cedric's mother's name is never actually given according to anything
     that I can find. So I simply took it from Robert Himself :)
     OC Spell: Incindia Inferno - Fires of Hell
     Also, the Challenge info is Posted. Feel free to write your own
     responses
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