Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3255473.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling, Percy_Jackson_and_the_Olympians_-_Rick
      Riordan, Percy_Jackson_and_the_Olympians_&_Related_Fandoms_-_All_Media
      Types
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Multi
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Voldemort, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort, Albus_Dumbledore,
      Cornelius_Fudge, Luna_Lovegood, Amelia_Bones, Poppy_Pomfrey, Other(s),
      Seamus_Finnigan, Dean_Thomas, Sirius_Black, Hermione_Granger, Ron
      Weasley, Θάνατος_|_Thanatos_(Hellenistic_Religion_&_Lore), Dionysus_
      (Greek_and_Roman_Mythology), Dionysus_(Percy_Jackson), Hedwig_(Harry
      Potter), Dobby_(Harry_Potter), Narcissa_Black_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Action/Adventure, Drama, Romance, Crossover, Crossover_Pairings, Slash,
      Male_Slash, Het, Religion, Religious_Content, Alternate_Universe_-_Greek
      Mythology, Greek_Mythology_-_Freeform, Powerful_Harry, Christianity,
      Necromancy, Masterbation, Smut, House_Elves, Demigods, Camp_Half-Blood,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Summer_Camp, Goblins, Gringotts_Wizarding_Bank,
      Politics, Alternate_Universe_-_Politics, The_Noble_and_Most_Ancient_House
      of_Black, Slytherin, Inheritance
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-30 Updated: 2015-02-21 Chapters: 3/? Words: 30333
****** The Little Butterfly ******
by ChrisF
Summary
     Every Half-Blood has one god-parent, this we know: however, Harry is
     different because of one reason: through the ways of the divine, he
     has more than one god for a parent/guardian. Another TBH Response
Notes
     Fandom: Harry Potter/Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Associated
     Works
     Title: The Little Butterfly
     Author: ChrisF. (Antarprince)
     Rating: M or Higher
     Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry/Multiple
     Summary: Every Half-Blood has one god-parent, this we know: however,
     Harry is different because of one reason: through the ways of the
     divine, he has more than one god for a parent/guardian. Another TBH
     Response
     Disclaimer: I Own Neither Harry Potter, Percy Jackson nor the works
     associated with them, or any other obvious fandom reference. This
     means no Money is made, but unless you’re a complete dimwit or this
     is your first Fanfiction, you know that.
     Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Romance, Crossover – a bit of
     everything.
     Warnings: This fanfiction deals in aspects of Ancient Greek Culture.
     This means that we will deal with many things, chief among them being
     religion and Adult Content. Being that I am a gay man, this includes
     Slash.
     Spoilers/Timeline – The Tail end of Harry Potter’s 4th year onward,
     and Pre- Lightning Thief.
     Author's Notes: This Fic is being written as a response to DZ2’s
     Thrice-Blessed Half-blood Challenge. Farther, feel free to Review. I
     accept all kinds, including Flames and do my best to respond to them
     all.
      
     This Fic is being written as a response to DZ2’s Thrice-Blessed Half-
     blood Challenge. Farther, feel free to Review. I accept all kinds,
     including Flames and do my best to respond to them all.
     ------------------------
     Challenge Guidelines & Rules:
     Rules: Light, Grey or Dark Harry
     Harry's first god-parent MUST be one of the twelve while others can
     be any of the Greek/Roman Mythological forces: gods, deities, divines
     etc
     Harry and Percy MUST have different views of right and wrong
     Either Thalia, the Di Angelos or Clarisse must be allied with Harry -
     any others are up to the reader
     Whoever Harry's god-parent is MUST break the law and talk/interact/
     meet with Harry - they do this because of Halloween and they don't
     want to lose him again
     If Harry is Dark, Luke MUST see Harry as the new leading force of the
     New Olympus and pledge to serve him instead of Kronos
     Any pairings are welcome
     Tom and Dumbledore must both feel wary about Harry when he comes into
     his god-like powers
     The Horcrux is destroyed - unless Harry's 'other' god-parents use it
     to 'determine' him as theirs (see below)
     Even though he leaves Hogwarts for CHB or his own dwellings, Harry
     must still keep in touch with his friends
     At least one of Harry's friends - or a redeemed friend if you want to
     use someone like Draco or Severus - must be a Half-Blood
     Sirius and Remus do not abandon him
     Guidelines: Powerful Harry
     Harry and Percy as enemies
     Immortal Harry
     Master of Death Harry
     The force that determines Harry is a primordial e.g. Thanatos,
     Erebus, Nyx, Chaos etc
     Harry saving Luke before Kronos gets to him
     Harry's god-parent - his main one - is one of the Big Three
     Lily and/or James were that particular god in human form
     Others of the HP universe are Half-Bloods
     A prophecy being made about Harry
     Slash
     The PJ/Heroes of Olympus universe being diverted from canon due to
     Harry's involvement e.g. Harry goes after the Lightning Bolt and
     keeps it or Harry helps Luke claim the Fleece and destroys Cronus
     Kronos - somehow - is Harry's god-parent - so a Titan-Harry could be
     allowed too
     Forbidden: Harry remaining the naive, malleable wizard/demigod people
     wish him to be
     Harry's actual god-parent being anything other than Olympian/Roman
     Dumbledore and Tom as allies of Harry
     Sirius and Remus abandoning Harry
     Other than that, it's up to you...
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Harry Potter’s heart clenched in sorrowful sadness as he looked down on the
body of Cedric Diggory, and for a moment the fight left him. Cedric had been
older and more experienced then him. If he couldn’t escape even a coward like
Worm-Tail then what hope did Harry have against Voldemort? It wasn’t that he
was particularly close to Cedric either, mind you. Before this year they were
acquaintances on good terms – friends in passing, but little else. He just
didn’t like the idea of the other boy’s death being on his hands.
 
            Death is a fact, it comes to everyone in the end. The thought came
to him from nowhere. It was a quiet little whisper in a quiet, dark little
corner of his mind and it seemed almost amused despite the hard factual tone.
 
            That may be – after all, he could hardly argue that. Everybody
knows that everybody dies… - but that doesn’t mean that I have to like it, he
retorted and felt another indulgent flit of humor. Great, he was about to die
and he’d gone insane! Why not…
 
            “Oh, such a handsome lad,” Voldemort tisked mockingly as he nudges
Cedric’s face to the side with his foot, pressing it into the dirt as he does
so.
 
            The dull ache of Harry’s sorrow left him as he witnessed this –
surging through him like hot iron in his veins. “Don’t you touch him,” he
snapped in response to Voldemort’s actions before his brain caught up with his
mouth. He thought it was probably foolish – knew it was even – but the thought
of that…creature defiling the other boy in any way was sickening to him.
 
            “Harry!” Voldemort turned to face the boy with an almost pleasant
demeanor, as an unseasonably cold wind blew through the cemetery and rustled
his tattered robes – completely ignoring Harry’s ire. “I had almost forgotten
you were there…”
 
            Harry grit his teeth hard as the other wizard continued to mock
him, going on and on about his fame and his title, as if it’s something he
wanted. It had the desired effect all the same, however, as Harry’s anger
continued climbing higher and higher as Voldemort spoke – unaware of the thick,
heavy storm clouds that rolled in over-head, concealed in the blackness of the
moonless night sky.
 
            “Would you like to know what truly happened that night Harry,”
Voldemort asked him rhetorically. Harry didn’t want anything from the other
wizard. There was no guarantee that anything he was told was the truth anyway.
However, in spite of all of this the question did catch his interest.
 
Harry might be naïve but he wasn’t stupid. He loved his mother and he respected
the sacrifice she had made for him, but despite what Dumbledore would have him
believe, he did not think it was his mother’s love that saved him. He had seen
a lot of things since discovering magic, but that was improbable. How many
other parents had died to protect their children from this monster?
 
“Dumbledore would have you believe that Lily Potter’s love is to thank for your
survival,” Voldemort spat as if disgusted by the idea – unknowingly echoing
Harry’s own thoughts. “Senile old fool; but there were ancient magic’s at work
that night. Power enough to stop the Avada Kadavra, and you, Harry, hold the
key and now that I have your blood I will find it!” Voldemort growled, standing
centimeters from Harry’s face now. As if to prove some twisted point he reached
out, and with a single finger touched Harry’s Scar.
 
Harry's world exploded in pain and he screamed in agony, but the sound was lost
as thunder cracked ominously over-head and lightning flashed threateningly,
casting distorted shadows across the cemetery. He sagged against the statue
restraining him, panting for breath and his face covered in sweat – the cold
wind felt good on his face.
 
That atrocity could never hope to grasp the source of our power,the voice
whispered offended. Harry stopped at that, thrown –that was definitely not him
and he was not going mad. No little one, you are indeed in possession of your
mental faculties, it reassured the young wizard.
 
Harry wasn’t quite so reassured, but upon reflection he decided that he had
bigger problems to worry about.I don’t suppose you’d tell me who you are? Even
as he had the thought he knew the answer; of course not, that would be too
simple for his already fucked up life.
 
Correct you are, little one. Harry bulked slightly at the hint of patronizing
humor in the tone, but let it pass. What was he going to do about it anyway?
You will know soon enough.
 
When Harry looked at Voldemort he felt fury, hatred. The sky rumbled, cracking
explosively as if to acknowledge him. He hated this, he hated all of it! He
hated the people who kept things from him – things he needed to know, but he
hated himself more. He was such an idiot! He knew he had a megalomaniac after
him – his life in emanate danger; for four years now he had been dealing with
the dark wizard in some form or fashion, why had he not taken it more seriously
and studied harder – trained? He could blame the headmaster all he wanted and
blame was warranted, but he – Harry – had never taken any initiative.
 
None of that mattered though; none on it even came close to the hatred Harry
felt for him! The young wizard seethed with absolute fury when he looked at
Voldemort. He Despised the man with is very being. Whatever else he may say
about it – all true – the thing was the route of it all, the reason for his
pain and suffering, and all the shitthat was his life!
 
The more that he thought about it the more his blood boiled. For the first time
in his life he wanted to lash out, wanted to truly cause pain. Even at his
worst points he had never wanted to hurt anyone and gods knew he had more than
enough justification, but now – now he wanted Voldemort to feel all the pain
and suffering that the man had caused him.
 
He’d never been particularly religious, as despite his aunt and uncles efforts,
Harry was never Christian. He wasn’t exactly sure why but the concept never
really meshed with him, and anyhow, wasn’t in the habit of believing in
something to which he had no evidence. Now, however, he found himself making an
oath. I swear to whatever deity will hear me that if I get out of this that I
will never allow myself to be weak again, to destroy anything that stands in
the way of me and my goal….
 
For one ominous moment the graveyard grew still and silent; time almost seemed
to stop, the wind stilled and the thunder stopped, the night grew deafening –
there were No sounds: not the crickets, or the raven that had been perched on
one statue since he and Cedric had arrived. Even Voldemort and his Death eaters
were silent, unaware though they were, as if they were afflicted by a silencing
charm.
 
Careful boy, the voice whispered stoically – voice like satin, unnatural
against the silence – sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. The voice wasn’t
cold, however, now that Harry focused on it. In fact, he would dare to say that
it was almost comforting in spite of the warning that followed. The Gods mark
your words.
 
Just like that, everything resumed.
 
"You filthy half-blood freak!” Harry found himself spitting as his anger
reached its zenith. If the situation weren’t so dire he would be shocked at
himself; he had never held any stock in blood supremacy, and he certainly would
never consider someone a freak as an insult. The connection of that word to his
aunt and uncle was to close for his liking, and yet the words continued to spew
forth from him as if a dam had burst, releasing years of pent-up rage.
 
“You think yourself a Lord of Magic when all you are is a fraud, a
hypocrite...” Harry taunted him, spitting the tittle mockingly. “What would
your loyal Death Eaters think of their precious Lordif they knew the truth?” He
leered at Voldemort threateningly, and in challenge. “Come on then, tell them –
tell them how their Dark Lord is a Half-Blood orphan so weak and afraid that he
begged Albus Dumbledore to let him stay at Hogwarts and not go back to the
orphanage.”
 
He watched in cold satisfaction as Voldemort stopped in shock as Harry spilled
his dirty little secrets, one after the other. He watched smugly the myriad of
emotions play over the creatures face: shock, confusion, anger, hate; but the
sweetest of them all was the fear. He knew Voldemort’s secrets and he feared
him for it. It had been only the briefest of flashes, covered immediately by
rage, but he had seen it. “The truth is that I am twice the Wizard you’ll ever
be; at least both my parents were magical, even if one of them is a mud blood…”
 
“That’s it isn’t it?!” Harry asked rhetorically, as if he had discovered the
answer to some great mystery. “I’m a threat to you and to your power in some
way. You fear me don’t you Tom – “
 
Before it even registered there was a loud boom and Harry was sent flying.
“Bombarda Maxima!!” Tom’s shrill infuriated shriek reached his ears as he hit
the ground with a hard, dull thud, wincing when he heard several loud bone-
snapping cracks. Yeah, that was going to smart in the morning… “Avada Kadavra!”
 
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end. It never came; instead he
heard a series of thuds, one, two, three, four, five and six… Opening his eyes
he saw six bodies lying lifelessly in the dark: Crabb, Goyle, McNair, Nott,
Malfoy, and to his horror even Pettigrew. It wasn’t that he had any attachment
to the man, but without him any chance Sirius had at freedom was almost non-
existent. However, it did make sense. No matter how useful those six
individuals may have been Tom would rather see them dead then to know the
truth.
 
“…And how did you come to know this information Harry Potter?” Tom asked in an
eerily calm tone which immediately set warning bells off in the boy’s head.
 
Harry looked up at his opponent with a defiant smirk. “Funny you should ask me
that,” he said in an attempt to sound casual as he struggled to get to his feet
– using a large chunk of the obliterated Angel of Death statue that held him
previously as a support. The effect was ruined by the hacking, wheezing cough
the action elicited. “You told me yourself,” harry admitted he panted raggedly,
pointedly ignoring the burning in his chest and the dark shine of blood on the
grass at his feet.
 
Harry saw something then in Tom’s eyes and he knew he was out of time. Despite
all of his bravado he was in trouble. He was hurt and something about his
response had set Tom off, he was done playing games, face as cold as stone. He
looked around himself searching for a route of escape. He obviously considered
the port-key, but disregarded it just as quickly. He’d never make it to the
thing in time and he doubted he could summon the thing, it would be too easy
and after his little stunt with his broom the judges probably took precautions.
 
Harry sighed dejectedly. He could run, but Tom would shoot him dead before he
made it a foot and a half. Only option is to fight then, he concluded
sardonically. Of course! He cursed his luck, yet he would be damned if he went
down without a fight. No matter how pitiful it might be… He reached into his
pocket for his wand and felt nothing. God damn it, what the Fuck am I going to
do now? My wand is gone! He was well and truly fucked.
 
            You could always ask for help, the voice responded again,
unsolicited in the corner of his mind. It spoke as if it were stating the
obvious and Harry nearly spoke verbally, exclaiming his dumbfounded shock.
 
It sounded so simple and yet Harry didn’t think that asking a voice in your
head to help you fight and escape a madman bent on killing you was a good idea.
If there’s one thing that he’s learned in his time among the wizards and
witches it’s to never listen to the voices in your head. Still, he conceded –
second-guessing himself. Listen to the voice that says it will help you and
potentially die, or ignore it and die for sure? In the end, even he knew it
wasn’t a choice. ….What do I have to do?
 
He took a deep, painful breath, hardening his resolve and looked at Tom,
speaking loudly and with conviction. “Father Thanatos, primordial Master of the
Nether and Reaper of Souls, thy degenerate son calls upon you. Bless me and
mine offering as I slay mine enemy!”
 
He felt stupid as he spoke, the idea that he was speaking to Death frightening
him at first, but as he spoke he grew more and more confident. He felt the
power in the words, more power than he had ever felt before. He felt the link
in the back of his mind solidify; felt the power spread through him, fill him.
It felt as if he had been submerged in ice water, yet wrapped in a comforting
embrace. His body went numb and the pain faded to nothing. Knowledge flooded
his mind and it was infinite and glorious; he knew that no matter how he tried
that he could never retain it all.
 
Tom drew back preparing to strike the boy and end his existence one and for
all, but stopped when he heard the boy speak the ancient invocation. No, it
wasn’t possible, yet he felt dread as he saw the sigil appear above Harry’s
head – a bloody inverted triangle, enclosed in a circle and wreathed in sickly
green flames.
 
Tom's fear got the better of him and he lashed out. "Avada Kadavra," he roared
sending a bolt of death energy to strike Harry. He was Lord Voldemort, he would
not die at the hand of this child!
 
“Pathetic,” Harry said with calm disgust and smirked darkly. As if of their own
accord, green threads appeared before Harry weaving themselves into a matt-like
shield absorbing the curse. The threads began to unweave themselves and change
form into long thin needles that launched toward the black-robed figure.
 
Tom grit his teeth to keep his temper and with an angry, haphazard flourish of
his wand Cedric’s body flew between them, intercepting the needles and impaling
Cedric. Harry growled as the summoning spell ended and the Hufflepuff’s body
hit the ground. He could see the puncture wounds through the boy’s body, slowly
seeping blood.
 
The other wizard smirked when he saw Harry’s façade crack and pressed on,
“Fiendfyre!” A giant serpent slithered from Tom’s wand onto the ground, the
field catching fire wherever it touched.
 
Harry took an involuntary step backwards, the heat was immense. Steam literally
curled off of Harry due to the vast temperature difference. He glanced at
Cedric’s body as the flames caused by the beast crept closer. Extending his
hand, palm up and fingers extended out, he blew a puff of air in Cedric’s
direction and the boy was surrounded by a ring of green flame that extended
fifteen feet high. When the Fiendfyre serpent touched the ring it roared,
rearing back as if in pain and thrashed angrily, catching more of the cemetery
alight.
 
He leapt backwards putting more distance between them and met the older
wizard’s eye. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to show respect the dead,” he asked
as he dodged another blow. With a snap of his fingers the glowing green threads
sprung up out of the ground like vines and ensnared the beast. It struggled and
strained to free itself, and Harry watched as Tom strained in kind, but to no
avail. He cupped his hand and it ignited in green fire. He pushed more and more
into it making it glow brighter, and he threw it at the creature. It writhed
and shrieked in agony as the emerald flames consumed its body and Tom was
forced to relinquish the spell, and the serpent fell to the ground with a
booming crash before it was extinguished.
 
Tom was enraged, panting from exertion, sweat covering his face and shining in
the light of the fire. He started the strike again, but was stopped by the
thread-vines that had leapt up to restrain him, squeezing ever tighter as he
struggled.
 
Harry sauntered toward Tom intent to finish this once and for all. You cannot
kill him, not yet, Thanatos informed him. Harry quirked a mental brow inquiring
of this fact. He has anchored himself to the mortal plane, he will remain until
they are no more – crude though they are.
 
Can you tell me where these items are, what they are, he asked already knowing
the answer. That would be easy, wouldn’t it?
 
I cannot, Thanatos said ignoring his sarcastic asides. You can, however,
diminish him. You have thrice now defeated your enemy,he explained. By ancient
law you can claim all of his family holdings and magic’s by rite of conquest.
 
Harry considered this. It was true that he held no personal interest in such
things, but he also knew that they meant power and any power that he could take
from the monster before him was fair game. Plus, he’d sworn that he would be
strong and in the realm of magic power was strength.
 
As if sensing his intent – which Harry conceded that it probably did – Magic
revealed the words to him. “Goddess Hecate I beseech thee, stand witness to my
claim,” he began and felt the magic of the ritual begin to build. “I, Harry
James Potter, Scion of the house of the House of Potter, lay claim to the house
of Salazar Slytherin and all that which is its by rite of conquest, so mote it
be!”
 
When Harry touched the bound wizard the magic reached a crescendo and an aura
enveloped the two. “No!” Tom raged trying to fight the magic as it drained him,
flowing into Harry. “I swear by the Powers Potter, you will pay for this – I
will kill you Potter!”
 
Harry heard his voice, but paid it no mind, it was as if it were lost in the
crash of waves. It was a current of ebbs and flows all convergent on him. He
lost himself to it, it seemed to go on for an eternity – it was timeless. Over
a Millennium of power and it was all his now. It was easy to see what attracted
Tom to it.
 
As with all things, however, it eventually came to an end and he returned to
reality. He exhaled loudly as he opened his eyes, looking around. It’s dark
again; the land barren and scorched, but dark – the influx of all that magic
must have extinguished the flames. Tom’s body lays at my feet, unconscious, but
I assume alive – mores the pity, and I suddenly feel exhausted.
 
The only fire still burning was the emerald flame the still protected Cedric’s
body. Interesting, he would have to look into that when he had time. Right now
though, he had to get Cedric and get out of there. He made his way to the
enclosure, stumbling slightly. He studied it for a moment before shrugging, it
had responded to his will before. Concentrating, he waved his hand willing the
flames to part, pleased when they fanned and parted letting him pass.
 
He looked from the body to the port-key for a moment and sighed, grabbing
Cedric he pulled, slowly walking backwards dragging him toward the cup, leaving
a tiny track of blood in his wake. “I’m sorry,” he panted to Cedric for being
so rough with his corpse.
 
Body aching he reached to grab the cup, his last thought was, I hate Port-keys…
 
                                      (+)
                                        
Luna Lovegood was a simple, if slightly odd thirteen year old girl from
Ravenclaw– Nutters more like, if you listened to her classmates. Loony Lovegood
they called her as they taunted her, laughed at her dreamy expression, bottle
cap earrings and radish neckless, but she didn’t hold it against them. In fact,
she envied them and their simplicity as much as she pitied them.
 
It would all change tonight, the birdies told he so, so she was content. So she
sat listening, idly waiting for the Champions to return. Some of the girls
chattered, gossiping about who would win and who they wanted to win. “It’s got
to be Krum, I mean come on –“Ophelia Rushden said as if it should be obvious.
“He’s a professional athlete, a maze will be no issue for him. Plus he’s Hot.”
She giggled the last bit as if she had said something scandalous.
 
Harriet Ellesmere laughed tacitly agreeing with her friend’s statement, but
argued. “You can’t use that as the basis of your statement. Hotness has no
bearing on physical ability; I’ll concede the athleticism, but if you’re gonna
use that to measure then why not Cedric Diggory? Besides, physical prowess has
little to do with Magical Skill.”
 
“Oh come off it, you’re just still bitter Krum asked The Beaver to the Ball and
not you,” the girl’s friend needled her friend. “Although you have a point.”
 
“I know, I can’t believe that! Who would ask Granger? I mean if she’d tone it
down she might make it here in Ravenclaw, but there’s a difference between
being Smart and being a bossy know-it-all nag,” Harriet said put out at the
thought of the Gryffindor girl. “You don’t think her and Potter…”
 
Ophelia looked at Harriet like she’d just admitted she had a flobber-puss
infection. “Oh gods, I hope not I don’t know wh – “
 
“Potter's made it out!"
 
The shout came from further down the stands, drawing people's attention and
everyone suddenly went quiet for a moment, all of their eyes turning to the
center of the arena. Then the silence broke, the Gryffindor’s the first to
cheer the return of their triumphant housemate, but Harry barely noticed. Still
high off the adrenaline, Harry looked around him frantically for a moment
trying to get his bearings. “He’s – Voldemort – cemetery –“he shouted in
disjointed exhaustion before class into the ground next to Cedric unconscious.
 
Everyone froze as they finally took in the site and print them, Harry and
Cedric both lying on the ground unconscious, and it finally registered, what
Harry had said. All at once panic erupted, the students shouted and the
teachers, rushed forward to aid the following students - Madame. Pomphrey as
always leading the pack. Everyone waited with bated breath for the teachers’
diagnosis, both eager and concerned, wanting to know what happened inside the
maze." He's dead," Madame Pomphrey whispered in shock as she checked on Cedric
first. Unfortunately for the professors, her voice carried across the extended
silence loud enough for all to hear.
 
This declaration caused the students to explode again, some in fear and shock
and others in fierce debate. Someone had died in the tournament! They knew that
people died in this tournament, what made it exciting, but how had Cedric
Diggory died?
 
Seeing the chaos among the students began to evolve. Minerva McGonagall acted.
Turning to face them. He quickly cast and amplifying charm on herself."
Prefects and Heads, please calmly and quickly escort. All students back to the
appropriate dormitories." Those who knew her knew her could tell that although
it sounded like she meant what he said." We will keep you informed as soon as
we do more."
 
Without further ado, the students got to their feet - six prefects, both boy
and girl and the two Head students, Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater, and
that may begin to direct the students back to their dormitories.
 
Luna Lovegood was smiling the whole way… While no is paying attention to her
Luna ducked away, slipping around the corner. The little butterfly would need
her help, she knew. She watched silently as the professors, ministry personnel
and the amusing black grim the followed Harry around everywhere - she grinned
in acknowledgment of that fact, she didn't think that Harry even knew he was
being followed - made their way through the halls with Harry levitating between
them, and arguing amongst themselves.
 
She knew she wouldn't have to wait long. Madame Pomphrey was a fiercely
territorial woman and she didn't like anyone in her ward, especially while she
was dealing with a sick patient.
 
She was right, of course, but she wasn't surprised about that. No more than ten
minutes later, the same group, made their way back through the halls looking
slightly disgruntled, no doubt at being thrown out, but she noticed that a
couple members of that particular party were missing - one was Harry's four-
legged friend, that was no surprise, and the other… Oh, she understood now.
 
When the coast was clear. She moved from her hiding spot, quickly, making her
way toward the infirmary. When she got there she stood in the doorway watching
unnoticed as Professor Moody was limping his way to Harry's bedside mumbling to
himself, the grin growling immobile at the foot of the cot." What was Potter,"
the man growled quietly." What was he like to stand before the dark Lord, to
face him, to be instrumental in his return?" Moody sounded positively giddy at
the idea." How did he survive? Oh well, it doesn't matter…" He drew his wand
and named it at Harry's heart." You serve your purpose."
 
“I wouldn't do that if I were you," Luna said in a singsong voice. Mood whipped
around, bringing his wand to bear and intent to curse her but before he could
even raise his wand - with deceptive skill - Luna pushed him backwards and off-
balance. He fell backwards, hitting the bed and making it move several
centimeters on impact, and when he was down she grabbed him by the throat."
Hurting sick people isn't very nice," she sang in contradiction to her actions.
 
Moody gurgled and spat in shock and anger as he struggled against the small
little blonde girl who tightened her grip threateningly. Suddenly, a force
overtook him and his eyes widened in shock and terror and images poured from
him for Luna to watch like a movie reel: images at his past and present, the
truth of his identity as part, Mr. Crouch Junior, how his mother had taken his
place in Azkaban prison and his father had stolen his will from him, how he had
helped Voldemort and his actions during World Cup, and how he had manipulated
Harry through the tri-Wizard tasks. All of this in the space of a moment as
madness overtook him and he screamed in horror, fear and agony.
 
As a result of the loss of the hold on his sanity Barty Crouch’s grip on his
magic also failed, as evidence the spells he had cast on and around Harry began
to fail, first the petrification charms cast on Harry and the dog, and then the
silencing charm and the notice me not flickered and died. Because of this,
Marty screams filled the hospital ward drawing the matron's attention.
 
“What in the name of Merlin is going on here," Madame Pomphrey yelled in
outrage and concern as she marched double-page toward her. Patient bed -
forgetting that she herself had a firm rule against yelling in the infirmary.
 
Snuffles yelped and jumped up into Harry's lap as the boy told Madame Pomphrey
what had happened. “It was the professor, Madame Pomphrey." He told her as he
embraced Snuffles, petting him in an effort to soothe both himself and the dog.
Madame Pomphrey glared at the grim, but said nothing as Harry continued." When
everyone left, as he questioned me about Tom he petrified me and Snuffles,
ranted about his resurrection and my part in it and how he wished he could've
seen it."
 
“That’s not Professor Moody," Luna told him plainly." That is Bartimus Crouch
Junior under polyjuice potion. It should be wearing off soon." She reassured
him with a smile.
 
Three heads snapped to the side to look at Luna in surprise, and she just
smiled. Madame Pomphrey looked at the occupants of the room, first her patient
and his dog, then, and finally the man sitting on the floor muttering nonsense
and rocking back and forth, screaming occasionally and then going quiet again.
Coming to a decision. She pulled her wand and quickly bound the man. Jogging
back her desk in the back office, she found a piece of parchment and quickly
wrote a note on it, explaining what happened and telling the headmaster become
quickly when the Aurors arrived. With a wave of her wand. The parchment folded
itself like an origami into the shape of a toad, and hopped off quickly through
and out of the infirmary and toward the headmaster's office.
 
Task finished she rushed back into the ward, eying the alleged imposter
suspiciously." I never…" She muttered outraged at the situation and the danger
presented to the students on a regular basis. Although while waving her wand
fiercely performing diagnostic spells on Harry and Luna." Are you too alright,"
she asked needlessly even as the diagnostic told her that they were perfectly
fine, although Harry still suffered from core exhaustion.
 
Neither of them bothered to answer the healer, she obviously didn't require one
as she continued to check them over. Harry looked at the blonde girl at his
bedside, and then spoke." Thank you, I owe you my life." He told her this in
disbelieving sincerity." I don't even know your name."
 
Luna smiled and held out her hand to pet Snuffles, giggling when he panted
happily and licked her hand." You nothing Harry Potter," she said matter-of-
factly never taking her attention off of Snuffles, who enjoyed the attention
all too much." My name is Luna Lovegood. Who is your friend?" She nodded her
head indicating Snuffles.
 
Harry looked confused for just a moment before he realized who she meant." Oh,
this is Snuffles." He smiled and patted the dog's neck as he barked happily."
He's my best friend." The two sat in an oddly companionable silence for a few
minutes, considering the gibbering man sitting on the floor who had tried to
kill him just moments ago." What did you do to him, Harry asked and wonder and
horror.
 
“I showed him the Snorkacks," she told him as if it were the most obvious thing
in the world - giggling.
 
Harry looked at Luna for a moment and shivered." Well, thank you anyway," he
said weakly.
 
“Oh, I wanted to give you this." She reached into her bag, which Harry had
noticed and pulled out a small plastic baggie that looked like it had little
squares of cookie dough in it.
 
“What is it?" Harry took the baggie and examined it curiously. He had never
seen it before, but he was not about to turn down something from a girl who had
saved his life.
 
It's ambrosia, Thanatos's voice whispered in his head.Be careful with it, it is
the food of the gods. Although in small doses it can heal a demigod.
 
“It’s a special kind of healing medicine," Luna told him." Danny gave me some
before the school year."
 
Harry looked at it and thought for a moment. Ambrosia, the thought with foreign
yet exciting to him. He was holding the food of the gods, he wondered at how
much power these little innocuous things held. Wait, ‘Daddy ‘gave them to her,
did that mean that when his father was a God? He looked at Luna and back at the
ambrosia again and shrugged." Thank you very much Luna." He reached into the
bag and pulled out a small square before taking a bite of it amid Madame
Pomphrey’s objections about unknown substances. For a moment. Nothing seemed to
happen and then it was like there was a gentle, cool breeze of air around him -
not physically of course, but he felt it all the same - and I won't feel his
body and his energy returned, seeming to seep back into him." Wow," he claimed
a bit breathlessly." Thank you Luna."
 
“You’re very welcome…"
 
Harry was handing the ambrosia back to Luna when a small troop entered the
infirmary like a herd of elephants, consisting of headmaster Dumbledore, the
Minister of Magic, a stern looking woman who looked to be in her early to mid-
40s to Harry, but then again with wizards you can never tell and she had a
group of people behind her, that area seemed more Aurors.
 
“Is everything all right Poppy," Dumbledore asked concerned and turned to face
the accused when she nodded her head affirmatively." Oh Alastair," Dumbledore
shook his head sadly and disappointment - his lips pressed into a thin line.
 
“That is not Alastair Moody," Luna repeated as she had said earlier.
 
“Yes, Madame Pomphrey said that you had claimed as much, but do you have proof
of this?" The middle-aged woman said slowly. She did not want to blatantly
accuse the girl, but without evidence the accusation would come to very little.
 
"Even if I don't, you still have the eyewitness testimony of two people that he
attacked a student," Luna said even if she was nodding. It didn't matter
anyway, as if on cue, the madman's skin begin to ripple as if it were water and
he began to change: his hair grew darker, changing lengths. He grew taller and
wirier, changing his appearance entirely.
 
There were several gasps shock and surprise as Bartamus Crouch Junior did
indeed sit on the floor in front of them muttering like a madman." Good Lord
Dumbledore," the minister said in his usual way - like he was about to have a
heart attack." In a school full of children no less, what are you thinking!"
 
Harry and Luna watched as without being told, four Aurors came forward and none
too gently hoisted the man up off the floor and out of the room. It was then
that the stern faced woman spoke again." Harry, Madame Pomphrey told us what
happened in her note, but would you mind telling us again?" She spoke kindly to
Harry despite her stern demeanor. “My name is Amelia by the way
 
Harry sighed, already tired of the days event and the constant questions, but
he understood the reasons and that Amelia was only doing her job. So Harry
grudgingly told his story again. He told her of how Bartamus had said that he
wanted to stay after they had all left the first time because he had said that
he wanted to make sure that Harry suffered no ill effects himself, Moody always
being the paranoid one as he was. Harry told him of how he had been petrified
and bound to the bed as the man had gone on and on about the glory of the dark
Lord, and the honor it was to witness his resurrection.
 
Harry noticed that is he still to this the minister began to become more and
more irate and flustered." And then Luna came in and took him by surprise, he
must have hit he said when he fell." Harry may be naïve but he didn't think it
was a good idea to tell them the Bartamus had gone insane when touched him."…
Can I go now, it's been a long day and I'm hungry."
 
Madame Pomphrey immediately moved to object." You most certainly may not," she
said adamantly." You are suffering magical exhaustion, you are not getting out
of bed."
 
Harry whinnied putting on the patient bored teenager act, which to be fair was
half true." Oh come on, I'm fine! Especially after that stuff Luna gave me."
 
“Oh yes, because I trust whatever that is." She said sarcastically.
 
Harry realized his mistake as soon as he had said it, and wanted to slap
himself." And what would this stuff be?"
 
“Oh, it's just something daddy gave me for healing," Luna said breezily not at
all concerned.
 
“Young lady," the minister said harshly." Possession of unregulated potions is
illegal. That'll have to be complicated."
 
Luna looked at the minister flatly." You can try," she said matter-of-factly.
There was no anger in her voice but the blasé demeanor have before was gone as
well." And then daddy and I will sue the Ministry for general theft, theft of
intellectual property, and theft of the secrets of the noble house."
 
Harry looked in shock and couldn't help himself, and grinned madly. Meanwhile,
the minister huffed and puffed and turned red blustering infinitely." Besides,
it wasn't a potion," Harry added just to rub it in.
 
Dumbledore chose to intervene and try and salvage the situation before it
eroded completely." If there is nothing else,” he said slowly. “Perhaps it
would be a good idea to let the children go be fed and watered. I believe that
you know the way to the kitchen. Harry," Dumbledore inquired.
 
Harry raised his eyebrow curiously, but nodded nonetheless." I'll help just to
be sure, and we will be back if he needs anything." She looked at Madame
Pomphrey reassuringly as he said this, and matron just sighed in defeat and
nodded her assent.
 
“Great," Harry exclaimed happily as he hoisted himself out of bed and made his
way toward the door, nodding to Luna as he went." Come on Snuffles, food," he
whistled sharply and a large black dog bound out of bed with the bark.
 
And that was the end of that. Harry, his new friend Luna and Snuffles went off
in search of the kitchen, leaving four confused and irritated adults.
Chapter End Notes
     End Notes:
     Okay, so that is the end of chapter 1. Hopefully, you too will be out
     soon, but I make no promises about at the speed. I do however use
     Dragon dictation software, which is very good and very fast. So with
     any luck it will be out quickly enough.
     Again, feel free to review and comment about anything and everything,
     I read and try and respond to them all because I know I hate it when
     I review and authors don't answer. It should be fairly obvious, but
     bonus points to anyone who can tell me who Luna’s God parent is, and/
     or what the power Harry used in the graveyard was (Don’t look it up!
     Lol)
     Until Next time Lovelies
     Boob squeeze!
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     And here is Chapter 2. Just a few notes before we begin. I think I
     answered everyone's review - I know I did at AO3 - in PM's, if not I
     apologize, but one recurring statement is comments on my Grammar
     errors despite my Proofing. I reiterate that I use dictation software
     and don't always catch it because they aren't Technically Errors.
     Lastly I will not be including the Header in every Chapter. The
     Header and Challenge guidelines are all in Chapter 1, feel free to go
     back and look (Now edited into the AO3 Notes).
     Also, for anyone that wants to be kept abreast of the Status of this
     Project and any others, follow me on Twitter @C_Frye13. But fair
     warning, Other content is uncensored.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Chapter 2:
 
 
Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
 
                                      (+)
                                        
 
           Harry had the instinctual urge to groan as he regained
consciousness, but he realized after a moment that he didn't actually feel any
pain. Hold on a minute, he thought to himself. That wasn't right. The last
thing he remembered, he been in the graveyard fighting with Voldemort and he
was pretty sure that he at least had some broken ribs, that should be rather
painful.
 
            Okay, Harry stay calm and think this through. You're not dead, so
that's a plus – aren’t you, some pessimistic part of his brain wondered. After
all, he had never been dead so how would he know what it was like? NO, he
snapped at himself. Focus, figure out where you are and what’s going on, and go
insane later! He wracked his brain for a second, trying to remember what had
happened. He remembered walking into Voldemort’s trap, and being captured, but
the rest was fuzzy, like trying to cling to a dream after you’ve woken up.
 
            “This is your first time consciously being here,” a smooth baritone
voice that sounded like satin on silk protruded on Harry’s thoughts. “It will
come to you.”
 
            Harry froze where he lay, cautious, but not afraid. Rather the
statement acted as a catalyst, clearing away the haze over Harry’s mind and he
began to remember the greater details of his confrontation with Tom Riddle. He
should have been shocked; and truthfully he was a little bit surprised, but not
overwhelmingly so. Years of dealing with a psychopath stalking him had kind of
lessened that threshold. He was more surprised that he wasn’t completely
paranoid and assumed every bad thing in his life was a plot by Tom Riddle to
torment him. No, in fact he was proud of himself for thoroughly kicking Tom’s
ass.
 
            Knowing that he had been caught Harry decided to open his eyes and
sit up, and took a moment to look around the room. It was dark with rich
Renaissance style architecture, hardwood floors and rich mahogany stained
paneling along the walls and ceiling. It was simply decorated with Greek vases
scattered around the room containing Anemone flowers of various colors. Some of
the followers were blue and purple, others were pink and white, but the ones
that caught Harry's eye the most were the red ones. They were the deepest, most
vibrant red that he had ever seen and they filled the room with a sweet
fragrance that Harry wasn't sure he recognized.
 
            The most dominating feature, however, was the massive fireplace at
the far end of the room that cast a warm glow throughout, as the fire crackled
merrily within. Sitting in front of the fireplace were two chairs that Harry
thought oddly looked like recliners? One of them, he noticed, was occupied by a
silent figure - probably the one that belonged to the voice he recognized, he
thought.
 
            Harry got up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch that he
had been laying on and quietly made his way over to the empty chair, listening
to the wood floor creak as he walked. He quickly made his way over to the
fireplace and the empty chair. He took a moment to look at the figure that
occupied the other, and gasped in shock and wonder. He knew who it was, of
course he had said his name when he had invoked the God against Tom; besides
which everyone knew the face of death when they looked upon it, but it was
still a surprise to actually physically see the being. He was actually
disturbingly handsome, not at all what Harry imagined when he thought about the
personification of death. He wore a thick dark purple robe with a black leather
belt around the waist. He had an olive skin that almost seemed to glow golden,
and Harry wasn't sure if that was the firelight, or the gods own natural
iridescence. The boy couldn't quite see his face from that angle, but the God
had long raven black hair that Harry imagined his own would look like if he
chose to grow it out. What was truly astounding, however, was the large black
feather wings protruding from his shoulder blades. They seemed to absorb the
light around them. Finally resting against his knee was a sheathed the short
sword of Greek design.
 
            “Well, have a seat Harry." Thanatos said to the young Wizard after
a moment, when he just stood there." We must talk, and I imagine that you have
questions."
 
            Harry jumped hearing Thanatos speak and moved quickly to take the
empty seat, covering his embarrassment in the shadows – yet remaining silent.
He did indeed have question, a lot of them in fact, but he wasn’t exactly sure
where to start. After all, it wasn’t every day that one got to talk face to
face with a god. It was actually this fact that inspired Harry’s first
response. “So… Gods exist,” he said lamely. It was more a statement than a
question, but a valid one. It was hard to argue the point when the proof was
literally sitting with you about to have a chat, and Harry knew instinctively
that it was the truth.
 
            “Thanatos laughed and Harry recognized the very pleasing note in
his ear. “Indeed we do,” Thanatos confirmed with a nod of approval. “Although,
I am technically a Primordial.”
 
            Harry thought about that in the context of the things he knew. I
scientific terms a primordial was one of the most ancient forms of life that
existed since the beginning of creation, and arguably precipitated life itself.
That put a great deal in perspective for the young wizard and forced his next
question. “Are there other gods?” Harry found himself fascinated by the thought
of different pantheons.
 
            The primordial smiled and nodded affirmatively, pleased by the
boy’s eagerness for information. “There are many: The Aztecs to the south, the
Asatru – or the Norse of the North East, The gods of the Far East – China and
Japan. The Nomad god of the Middle East, and several others.” Harry knew that
‘Nomad god’ referred to the god of the Israelites and the Muslims, but he heard
the edge of the tone that the Primordial used and decided to drop it. He would
have to look into it himself later. “The most influential of these, however, is
my own pantheon of relatives the Hellenics, or the Greeks,” Thanatos continued.
“We are the foundation, influencing all the best attributes and advancements of
the West: Politics and government, medicine, education, art and music,
literature and sports.”
 
            Harry listened as Thanatos lectured him and found himself nodding
in agreement. The more that he thought about it the more he saw the Greek
influence in everyday life. The Mediterranean was the very first region to have
any form of social democracy; and while Britain was technically a monarchy, the
people chose the MP’s that represented them in the House of Commons.
 
Harry knew about the ‘Father of Medicine’, a Greek named Hippocrates and the
Hippocratic oath; and Archimedes of Syracuse who was an Ancient Greek
mathematician, physicist, engineer, inventor, and astronomer.
 
There were plenty of endless examples of Greek influence in art, music and
literature; all you had to do was go to a museum, or a library and do five
minutes of research. Sports was another painfully obvious example. They held
the Olympics twice a year - every four years, Games named after the most famous
icons of Greece.
 
“I understand all of that,” Harry said after a moment when he noticed Thanatos
had finished. “What I don’t understand is, why me? What is so special that
Death himself would help me?” Harry asked in both confusion and frustration.
“I’m Harry, just Harry.”
 
"Why not you?” Thanatos asked, rebutting the boy’s question with his own in
counter to it. He sighed, the boy had such a desperate lack of self-esteem and
an entrenched need to be normal that the idea that he stood out was
unthinkable. “Even after tonight’s events, even after facing down your foe four
times and being victorious, you still think of yourself as less than
extraordinary?”
 
Harry thought about it and conceded the God’s point. As much as he may not want
to admit it, he had done some pretty amazing things since he had come to
Hogwarts. Even if I hadn’t intended to, he added. “Which brings me to another
very valid question,” Harry said quickly – seizing on the opening to ask his
most vexing question. “I’m not whinging about it because it saved my life, but
how did I do all that?”
 
The winged being nodded in acknowledgement, having expected the question and
steepled his hands. “In answer to both of your questions Harry – How and Why –
I have always watched over you and my line.” Harry made to interject, but
Thanatos held up his hand to stop him, and continued. “The Gods have always had
children. It is how balance is maintained and how we make our will known in the
modern world; and the Potters have always been part of my line though my son
Ignatius Peverall and his brothers, but you Harry have had the strongest
connection to me since Ignatius himself.”
 
He was a demigod, he thought as he finally began to understand. It would
explain a lot. “So, the power I channeled wasn’t my own then, but yours.”
 
“No Harry,” Thanatos denied the statement. “You’re missing the point. Every
Claimed demigod receives the blessing of his or her God-parent. It works as a
Booster, an Amplifier for a short time. When you called on me, just as you
asked, I gave you my blessing and renewed my claim of the Potter line, but you
still possess the blood of a god.” He explained all of this, watching to make
sure Harry understood. “The power was your own, the blessing simply showed you
how to use it.”
 
Harry sat there for a few minutes, letting the silent wash over him, and
absorbing and assimilating all that he had been told. “I think I understand,”
he said finally. He would definitely have some studying to do. “What now?”
 
Thanatos looked at Harry again, gaging how he was handling the situation. “That
is a very difficult matter,” he informed the young man. “The life of a demigod
is never an easy one and often ends tragically. Do you remember how I told you
of Tom Riddles Horcruxes, the anchors tying him to the mortal plane?” Harry
nodded that yes he did remember. “Those things go against every law of nature.
They need to be destroyed, and I’m giving that task to you.”
 
Harry wasn't surprised by this. He kind of always suspected that it would come
down to him and Tom in the end. In fact, he wouldn’t be overly surprised to
learn that there was some rubbish prophesy out there somewhere about it. As it
was, Harry did the only thing that he could do at the time and nodded. “I don’t
suppose you would tell me where and how to get rid of them?”
 
The Primordial smiled apologetically. “I will not – I cannot; but have no fear,
you will know when the time comes,” he reassured the wizard. “There is time.
You have weakened Tom Riddle considerable. By Claiming the Rite of Conquest you
have taken the largest portion of Tom’s power, he will need time to rest and
consolidate his forces.”
 
He remembered that, remembered the euphoria of syphoning Tom’s precious power
and taking it as his own. He could think of no greater punishment for a man who
valued power above all else then to strip him of it, Harry thought
vindictively. He would have to look into that too, and see what it all implied
for him. He was going to have a busy final week at Hogwarts, he thought
absently.
 
“In the meantime,” Death spoke interrupting Harry’s contemplation. “It is time
to end this conversation. You will be in your Hospital Wing by now, no doubt
expected to give explanation.”
 
Thanatos was right, his return would have caused a ruckus and everyone would
want an explanation. “What should I tell them?” Harry asked the immortal.
 
He shrugged the question off with a wave of his hand, as if it were
inconsequential. “The choice is yours, the truth, or lie if you wish, it
matters not to me.”
 
Harry considered this. It would be simpler to lie, he knew that few would
believe him and it was easy enough. People died in the Tri-wizard tournament
all the time, but when Harry thought about it the idea made him angry. Why
should he have to lie and shield people from the truth because it frightened
them? Besides, it was bad strategy. Let the cowards deal with the truth how
they would.
 
“One last piece of advice Harry,” Thanatos said to him before the conversation
drew to a close. “…The eyes are the windows to the soul, do not look into Albus
Dumbledore’s.”
 
                                      (+)
                                        
Location: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Time: 1:30 A.M.
 
 
            Harry found himself relieved when he walked out of the hospital
wing, and led Luna toward the kitchens, grim scampering along in tow. He didn’t
really mind the hospital wing really, if you could ignore Madam Pomphrey’s
mother-Henning – didn’t even mind that; he actually found it oddly endearing
that she cared so much. What did bother him was the Ministry interrogation –
Questioning, he reminded himself sarcastically. He understood why, of course,
and he had been prepared for it, and although he had determined to change his
behavior he still wasn’t all that comfortable with questions.
 
            Never mind the fact he did not like the idea of so many Ministry
officials around Sirius. It was true that Dumbledore had been there, but Harry
imagined that even the old headmasters influence would be limited when faced
with the fact of a ‘mass murderer’ in the room. He knew that Sirius would tell
him that he was over-thinking it and too cautious, and it was true that he did
question the Ministry’s competence, but even idiots got lucky sometimes.
 
            Suddenly Harry was overcome by a deep and reaching depression, and
frowned, every line on his face illustrating his despair. He wondered if his
godfather would ever be free now, and he doubted it. The only tangible proof he
has of Sirius’s innocence was dead. He briefly considered the possibility of
retrieving the body because at least that would be something, but then he
remembered that the cemetery had been charred and devoid of anyone other than
him, Cedric and Tom after the duel. If Harry had to bet he would say that the
six other bodies had been cremated in the fires during the duel.
 
            Luna must have noticed the shift in his mood, because she placed a
comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much Harry,” she told him
with an encouraging smile. “Have faith that it’ll work out.”
 
            It was a very kind sentiment, and he thanked the younger girl for
it. “Thank You,” he said to her. Kindness aside, however, he didn’t put much
stock in faith. Then again, considering all he had learned tonight, he would
have to reevaluate quite a few of his previous stances. “What’s your name,
again?” He asked her abruptly. He knew he had asked her, but he couldn’t
remember. “It’s been a long night and I’m rubbish with names,” he said to her
and it didn’t sit right with him that he didn’t even know her name when she had
saved his life.
 
“Oh,” she said and she sounded moderately surprised that he would ask her.
“Don’t worry about it, a lot of people here forget me.” She reassured him,
making harry frown. The Blasé manner with which she said that bothered him. I’m
Luna Lovegood, Luna Anthia Lovegood.”
 
            Hearing Luna’s full name Harry grinned and pivoted on his heels to
face her, walking backwards as he spoke. “Lady Moon Flower… It’s a pleasure to
meet you.” He bowed gallantly at the waist and took her hand. “I am in your
debt.
 
            Luna actually giggled during the act and took his hand in return.
“You charmer you,” she teased smiling. “You’re going to be a heartbreaker one
day aren’t you? Someone’s going to be very happy.”
 
            Harry blushed when he heard Luna’s assessment of him and his
future, but he was secretly pleased by it. Snuffles barked, and Harry could
hear Sirius’s proud teasing even in his animagus form. “That’s enough out of
you mutt,” Harry snapped playfully as they reached the painting of the fruit
bowl. “Watch this.” He addressed Luna as he turned to face the painting and
tickled the pair – he was pretty sure there was an innuendo behind that, and
one of the founders was a pervert. Yep, definitely a pervert, he decided as the
pair laughed and quivered under his fingers before the Portrait sung open. “The
Weasley Twins showed me this.”
 
            He waved Luna though ahead of him, sweeping his arm out ahead of
him with a nod and followed her though. He always liked the Hogwarts Kitchen
for some reason. Despite its size it felt warm and homely to him. It was
relatively simple in design for a place that fed so many, he thought. It was a
large stone room, lined with massive wood burning stoves for cooking, and
cabinets all along the walls. Harry imagined that they held typical kitchen
paraphernalia, and probably a few of the big ones having preservation charms to
hold food.
 
            There were two big oak tables like the ones in the Great Hall,
sitting side by side and running the length of the kitchen. At the far end of
the tables was the biggest hearth that he had ever seen. It could easily fit
forty or fifty at a time for flow travel, and cast a pleasant glow though the
room.
 
            A giant caste-iron cauldron hung by a hook over the fire. In the
far corner of the fire place was a stack of logs to feed to it when the fire
when it started to die, and in front of that was a collection of Smaller
cauldrons and pots. To the right of the big cauldron was a substantial rack
that held utensils that wouldn’t look out of place in Snape’s class, and
sitting vertical to that was an iron spit-roast.
 
            He always found the house-elves fascinating – ever since his
disastrous run-in with Dobby in his second year. He didn’t quite understand why
Hermione was so ardently against the idea of House elves.
 
Well that wasn’t true, he did know. Her Upbringing told her that servitude was
wrong, but Harry saw a few issues with this – The first being that the little
creatures were only too happy serving them, she didn’t realize how
uncomfortable she was making them. The second was very much a party-line to his
ear, but it did ring true to him in this case. Hermione was a textbook example
of the pureblood’s complaints about muggle-borns. She came to Hogwarts wide
eyed and eager to learn anything and everything that she could about it –
sometimes over eager to the point of putting people off – but instead of taking
it in and immersing herself in the culture, she applied her own moral standard
to it.
 
"What can Misty being helping young wizard and Miss?”
 
The over-excited question surprised Harry and jarred him from his thoughts. A
little elf in a teal tea-dress had noticed them, and looked at Harry and Luna
with eerily deep blue eyes, eager to help them. Her question had drawn the
attention of the other elves and suddenly they were the center of attention.
Harry chuckled and patted the little elf on the head. “We missed dinner, would
it be alright to get some bubble and squeak and some chamomile tea, which would
be fantastic!”
 
Misty nodded and looked at Luna inquiringly. Luna pursed her lips a minute
considering, and nodded coming to a decision. “That works,” she said. “Make
that two bubble and squeak, but I think I’ll have a coffee if you can, heavy
cream, one sugar please.”
 
Misty nodded vigorously. “Misty can do that it is being just a moment.” When
she turned and went about her duties she called out almost rudely. “Dobby, be
getting the drinks.” Harry raised an eyebrow.
 
Harry watched as the elf he knew jumped and scurried into action curiously,
before turning his attention back to his companion. “Can I ask you something?”
It was a rhetorical question, of course. He had every intention of asking. “How
did you know that I would need help?”
 
Luna only shrugged trivially at the question Harry asked her. “The birdies told
me,” she told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
 
Harry looked at the blond girl oddly for a second, trying to figure her out,
when suddenly an idea struck him and he looked at Luna in understanding.
“You’re a seer,” he asked seeking conformation. He hadn’t really believed in
divination, something he agreed with Hermione about. He had taken the class
because Ron had urged him and it was an easy grade, but when he thought about
it he thought he may have been wrong. He may not have the gift, but he had been
witness to two prophesies that Professor Trelawney had made now, and she was
always talking about the grim and Harry meeting his death. Close enough, he
conceded. He just never took her quite so literally.
 
“I suppose that depends on how you look at it,” she said when she thought about
it for a second. Most People just thought that she was strange. Harry was the
first person at Hogwarts to associate her eccentricities with something else
and not pre-judge her. She was impressed and could understand how he could draw
that conclusion. “It’s not really divination though,” she caveated. “For
example, I know that your friend here -” She indicated Snuffles by scratching
him behind the ear. “- is really your Godfather Sirius Black.” She saw both
Harry and Sirius tense, the ladder prepared for flight while Harry watched her
warily, prepared to clear his godfathers escape if need be. “Relax you two, if
I’d wanted to turn you in I would have done it back in the room full of
Ministry personnel and Aurors.”
 
Harry watched her a moment longer, trading looks with Sirius. He had to admit
that she had a point. There wasn’t any better time to out Sirius then in front
of the Ministry. Making his assessment, he nodded and watched as Sirius
transformed. He wasn’t concerned over the house-elves, they answered to the
Headmaster and he knew Sirius was there.
 
The first thing the older man did was to wrap Harry in his arms, in a crushing
hug. His body radiated relief as he buried his nose in Harry’s hair, every bit
the concerned parent. “I’m so sorry pup,” he said in a muffled voice that
cracked with emotion. Once again, his guilt crushed him. He was supposed to be
Harry’s guardian and yet again he had failed in his duty. “Thank God that
you’re okay.”
 
Harry snorted into this godfathers robes when he heard that statement, and he
idly wondered which one Sirius was referring to. “It’s alright Sirius, I’ll
survive – I always have.”
 
Something meant to be a reassurance to the man served to have the opposite
effect then it was intended. Sirius whined and pulled Harry tighter to him
still. It killed him that his godson was so used to having his life threatened.
After collecting himself Sirius released Harry, looking him up and down,
running his hands over Harry’s body to reassure himself of Harry’s well-being
before turning to address the Ravenclaw girl. “I want to thank you, from the
bottom of my heart,” he said to her, reaching out to take her hand in both of
his. “I am in your debt – I won’t hear otherwise,” he stopped her before she
could utter a word. “Anything you need or want is yours if it is within the
power of the House of Black.”
 
Luna decided that she liked this man, because under the scary shag and care-
free prankster mentality that he put off was a caring and nurturing father-
figure who cared, and would do anything for his godson. Harry would need that
in the days to come. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said smiling a bright genuine
smile. “It never hurts to have a favor from and Ancient and Noble House in your
pocket.”
 
Sirius chuckled and nodded in acceptance of the girls reasoning. He liked her,
he decided, echoing Luna’s thoughts about Sirius himself. She was a deceptive
girl; she put off this kind and sweet persona that Sirius knew was genuine, but
there was a sly and deceptive streak to her, which made her shrewd and
calculating. She would make an excellent Slytherin, he thought.
 
Sirius moved to sit across from Harry and Luna as Dobby came up with a silver
tea set, and levitated it to sit between the three of them. “Dobby brings tea
for Master Harry Potter Sir and his Looney.”
Harry knew that Dobby and most house elves – he assumed – had issues with human
speech and tended to mangle names. As such, he knew that Dobby most likely
meant no insult to his new friend, but the nickname made him do a double-take.
“Dobby!” Harry snapped with a scandalized look on his face. “That’s very rude,
apologize.” He told the little creature.
 
Dobby stopped and did a double-take of his own in shock, blinking owlishly.
Harry had never yelled at him before. The shock morphed into regret then
sadness as his eyes started to water. “Dobby is sorry Miss,” he hung his head
in shame. “Dobby is a bad elf, bad!”
 
Harry recognized the self-depreciative abusive behavior and reached out,
grabbing Dobby by his sky-blue tunic before he could hurt himself. “None of
that now Dobby,” he stopped the little elf and let go when Dobby turned to look
at him, watery eyes full of adoration. “I know that you didn’t mean anything by
it, but those kinds of nicknames are an insult to people. Could you maybe come
up with a less offensive nickname?”
 
Dobby stopped for a minute and thought about the request, tilting his head with
a look of concentrated consideration. Harry would have laughed if it wouldn’t
have been counter-productive. Dobby looked at Luna for a minute and nodded.
“Dobby can do that,” he said determinedly. “Dobby is sorry if Dobby was rude to
Harry Potter’s Lovely.”
 
Luna giggled in delight when she heard her newly christened nickname. She liked
it, she thought as she watched Harry blush. “I accept your apology,” she
assured the diminutive house elf. “Would you be so kind and get Mr. Black
something to eat? I’m sure he’s very hungry.” Luna looked to Sirius for
confirmation of her assertion and he nodded. “A nice medium-rare steak and
mash, I think – with a nice Château Léoville Las Cases, I think.” Sirius looked
at Luna in surprise and raised an eyebrow. “What, you’re against a proper
drink?” She asked the man challengingly. “I imagine it’s been a while since you
indulged.”
 
Sirius took all of two seconds to consider this and nodded his assent to Dobby,
and the little elf snapped his fingers and the requested bottle with a wine
glass appeared on a silver tray. While it was against the Hogwarts bylaws to
serve students alcohol, the professors and staff kept a stock for private use.
 
The three humans talked for the next few minutes about inconsequential topics
as they drink their beverages and waited on their food – Harry chatting
animatedly with his godfather, catching up properly. Luna sat quietly and
sipped her coffee, content to let the other two reconnect.
 
When Misty brought them all their food Sirius spoke to her. “Bring me a couple
of more glasses,” he told her. Misty looked at the Animagus and hesitated. She
knew that the man intended to share his drink with the students, but she wasn’t
technically breaking any rules. With a sigh she snapped her fingers summoning
the additional glasses.
 
He smiled gratefully at Misty and proceeded to pour a finger into the
additional grasses, passing one to both Luna and Harry. “What,” he asked
defensively when Harry looked at him. Meanwhile Luna took a sip without batting
an eye. “I think we’re going to need it, and if anything you’ve earned a
drink.” Harry picked up the glass, swirling it in his palm like he’d seen on
television “Sip it, don’t gulp,” he told the boy. He remembered the first time
he had a drink with his father at thirteen; he’d thought he was going to be a
bass ass pro and slammed his Firewhiskey. It had been like a trampoline, it had
gone down and had come right back up. Harry took a sip and Sirius smiled,
impressed, as Harry took his first sip with a barely noticeable grimace.
 
They were all quiet for a few minutes as they ate their Bubble and squeak and
Steak and Mash. Bubble and squeak topped with poached egg
 
Bubble and squeak is a traditional English dish made with the shallow-fried
leftover vegetables from a roast dinner. The main ingredients are potato, and
Brussel sprouts, but carrots, peas, cabbages, or any other leftover vegetables
can be added. The chopped vegetables (and cold chopped meat if used) are fried
in a pan together with mashed potatoes or crushed roast potatoes until the
mixture is well-cooked and brown on the sides. The dish is so named because it
makes bubbling and squeaking sounds during the cooking process. It is often
served with cold meat from the Sunday roast, and pickles or brown sauce, or as
an accompaniment to a full English breakfast.
 
Harry used the quiet time to organize his thoughts and reevaluate his day for
the hundredth time. He picked up his wine glass and took another sip with a
sigh, an action that did not go unnoticed by either Sirius or Luna, the former
glancing at his godson from the corner of his eye. The man waited patiently –
an act to be commended when performed by Sirius Black – not wanting to push
him.
 
When Harry did speak, it was simple, direct and to the point – and directed at
Luna Lovegood. “You’re a demi-god…”
 
The sound of a fork hitting ceramic was heard when Sirius dropped his fork in
shock. He knew all about the Hellenics, of course – the stories surrounding
them. Many pureblood families followed the religion, many claiming to be of
divine descent. Such claims were, of course, rubbish %99.9 of the time, but
Sirius doubted that Harry knew any of that. So when Harry made the claim, and
not of himself but of the Lovegood girl, Sirius sat up and took notice.
 
“Is that a statement, or a question?” She countered Harry just as directly as
he had.
 
Harry huffed, believing that Luna was being intentionally obstinate with him
and he had had a long night, he was in no mood for games. Then it occurred to
Harry that such a question could be personal, and thus considered rude. Plus,
if his query were meant as a Statement then it wouldn’t require an answer. It
was very sly. “A question,” he concluded smirking playfully. Suddenly, he felt
the need to retract his private thoughts, he rather enjoyed the tit-for-tat
with the Ravenclaw.
 
Luna saw the recognition in Harry’s eyes and nodded her approval. “Then the
answer is yes. I am a Demi-god, and so are you, aren’t you?” She countered him.
 
Harry hesitated a moment and looked at Sirius out of the corner of his eye, but
steeled himself. “I am,” he confirmed as he reminded himself of his vow. He
wasn’t going to shrink from himself, wasn’t going to hide and minimalize his
life anymore. “Who is your parent?” Harry asked in kind, but hedged himself,
remembering that such questions might be viewed as inappropriate. “If it’s not
too rude to ask that is.”
 
“That depends on who you ask,” she conceded the question. “Some are fine
sharing such information, while others prefer to keep it private.” She stated
factually. “As for me, I don’t mind, but can you guess? Think about what you
know, what you’ve seen tonight.”
 
Meanwhile Sirius watched the two, fascinated, as if it were a quittich match –
eye’s darting from Harry, to Luna and back again as they spoke. The idea of a
legitimate child of the gods in Hogwarts was incredible, and he did believe
her. She didn’t seem the pompous type to him. “Are there any others like you at
Hogwarts?” Sirius found himself asking her.
 
“There were two that I knew of,” she told him. “Like I said, some people are
very private about their heritage so it’s not really my place to tell their
business, but the other – I don’t think Cedric would mind anymore.” Luna
frowned sadly when she told them. Cedric had been older, but he was her friend,
always kind and sweet to her. “He was a son of Aphrodite.”
 
Sirius hung his head and nodded dowry. That made an odd sort of sense, he
thought. Cedric had been a rather handsome lad from what he saw of the boy.
Good on you Amos old boy, he couldn’t help but think. To land the Goddess of
beauty, love, pleasure and procreation was no laughable feat, a lesser man
would be jealous.
 
He faltered when his brain caught up to the conversation though, and he
realized that Harry had confessed to being a half-god himself. He didn’t really
know how to process that, but first and foremost it worried him. Sirius
wouldn’t call himself secular; it was difficult to claim that when one knew
that Gods existed, but there-in lay Sirius’s problem. He knew the Gods; they
were petty, vindictive, spiteful, greedy and quick tempered. They had a
tendency to hold grudges, they were very human in that regard. He didn’t want
any of that for his godson. Having a dark lord after you was bad enough, having
an angry God, but what could he do? He sighed in contrition and frustration. He
would just have to be vigilant and help Harry anyway that he could…
 
In the intervening time Harry was trying to piece together the clues that the
Ravenclaw had given him, listening to Luna and Sirius converse with half an
ear. He wasn't completely surprised to learn that Cedric was a child of
Aphrodite, it was fitting when he thought about it.
 
He hadn’t known her for more than the night; that made it somewhat difficult,
but he knew that the girl had some cognitive ability similar to precognition,
and it seemed to make her somewhat eccentric, but there was rationality and
intelligence there if you knew when to look. It was very much a contradiction;
and Harry studied her as she spoke to his godfather, the way she spoke and held
herself, her mannerisms. She was very comfortable and confident in herself, he
noticed. She was very calm and collected as she spoke to Sirius, lacking the
typical dreamy behavior. He noticed that she held her whine glass with what he
thought was practiced ease for a thirteen year old girl.
 
Although, the most Glaring clue to Harry was Luna’s ability to cause Madness in
those that she touched. He shivered being reminded of the sudden madness of
Barty Crouch and resolved to never piss the blond girl off. He used all of this
information to try and form a Hypothesis.
 
Despite the Dusley’s best efforts to keep him away from anything freaky or
abnormal, he also knew at least some of the basics about the Greek Gods thanks
to his frequent trips to the local public library. He knew about the twelve
Olympians, and Hades – just as he had known the significance of the name
Thanatos. Granted, he would have to brush up now and separate the muggle myths
from the facts, but based on all of this he was inclined to say that Apollo was
Luna’s father. It did fit. Apollo was often associated with Precognition and
Divination. The Oracle of Deli was said to have been driven to madness, cursed
by her prophesy’s.
 
Another possibility was the Goddess Psyche, though it was slim and Harry nearly
disregarded it out of hand. Psyche had not been born a Goddess, but granted the
status after many trials when she had fell in love with Eros, the son of
Aphrodite. Officially she wasn’t the Goddess of anything; she held no titles
and had no temples, but mortals often regarded her as the Goddess of soul –
Harry was sure Hades appreciated that so much – and madness – again stepping on
other Gods toes. Harry thought that she must be really popular on Olympus, but
no…
 
Luna had said Daddy; although, Harry Doubted Gods were restricted to the gender
to which they were born. Harry shivered, the random idea of Zeus as a woman was
a truly frightening thought. Disregarding that extremely unwanted thought, that
would make her God-parent a man. That left one other distinct possibility,
Dionysus. This made the most sense to Harry, because one of Dionysus’s titles
was as the God of madness and while Apollo’s prophecies could incite madness he
wasn’t associated with it, and Luna said that she wasn’t a seer, that she just
knew and Harry knew that there was clarity in madness. It was the people around
them that didn’t understand it.
 
Harry was sure that this was the answer. “You’re a daughter of Dionysus,” he
said firmly.
 
Even though Harry had not asked her the question and played their game, Luna
nodded yielding the answer. She had expected him to choose Apollo as his
answer, everyone did until she had been claimed. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I have
two twin brothers, Caster and Pollux who are currently claimed. They are non-
wizards who stay at Camp Half-blood year-around with daddy.”
 
“But I thought Xenophilious was your father,” Sirius said confused. “It’s a
matter of public record.”
 
Harry actually looked at Sirius for a minute and questioned his godfather’s
cognitive function. The answer to that was so simple that even he knew the
answer to it. “Oh he is,” Luna answered him. “Xenophilious adopted me when I
was very young, after he married my mother.” She turned her attention back to
Harry. “Do you want to tell me who claimed you?”
 
"Don't you already know," he asked here teasing. He could very easily see that
becoming a thing, but he didn’t mind answering just the same. “It was
Thanatos.” That was pretty much the end of it, and they began to wind down for
the night. They finished their dinner and chatted before calling it for the
night. He did ask her about this Camp Half-Blood that she had mentioned her
bothers being at, and she told him that it was a safe-haven for demi-gods to
train and be safe. “Well,” he said finally. “I think we all better get some
sleep. Dobby could you please take Sirius and find him a safe place to sleep?”
 
Harry laughed as Dobby spoke after Sirius had transformed. “Oh yes Master Harry
Potter Sir,” he said happily. “Dobby be taking care of Harry Potter’s Dogfather
personally. Come on puppy.”
 
Before Harry could thank Dobby, the elf was already though the portrait and
gone. So, Harry turned to Luna and addressed her instead. “Would you like me to
walk you back to Ravenclaw tower?”
 
“You’re so sweet Harry,” she said to him before she leaned in and gave him a
peck on the cheek before walking out the portrait, humming to herself. “I think
I can manage on my own.”
 
Harry stood there for a moment, flabbergast and blushing. The only thing that
registered in his confusion was, I’m glad Sirius isn’t here.
 
                                      (+)
                                        
Location: Malfoy Manor
Time: 12:00 A.M.
                                        
                                        
            Malfoy Manor had always been a warm and welcoming place, Narcissa
Malfoy made sure of it. It was always full of love and laughter, but not today.
Today it felt dark and cold. “Can Noddy be getting Mistress anything,” her
favorite house-elf asked cautiously. She could sense something was bothering
the Malfoy matriarch, and she didn’t like when the Mistress was upset.
 
            The house-elf broke Narcissa from her dire thoughts and she looked
at her in surprise. “Yes Noddy,” she told her after a thought. “More Wine.”
 
            It was definitely that sort of night, she thought. The Tri-wizard
tournament had ended two hours ago and not in jubilation. Harry Potter had
returned and fallen unconscious as soon as his feet hit the ground, with a body
in tow. Unsurprisingly, the arena had been cleared quickly after that. The
Ministry had pushed back the award ceremony – again unsurprising – and as a
preliminary was stating that the Diggory boy had died during the tournament;
and that was the trick because it wasn’t untrue, but she knew the truth.
 
            An hour before that her husband had left Hogwarts early and in a
rush, clutching his left arm. Her heart froze when she saw that because she
knew what it meant. Lucius wasn’t a bad man; she would never tolerate if he
were a cruel-hearted man. In fact, he was a very kind and idealistic man, it’s
what had led so many of them to the Dark Lord.
 
            Noddy popped in then, glass in hand and sat it next to her
mistress. “Noddy be getting mistress a Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru, Cote
de Nuits,” she said making Narcissa smile sadly. She must really be worrying
the little thing. Cote de Nuits as not an everyday wine.
 
            Noddy was the most human house-elf that she had ever seen, Narcissa
decided. “Thank you Noddy,” she smiled and sipped her wine – sighing. She
didn’t know what had happened. She remembered the Dark Lord in the beginning.
He had been so idealistic and Charming, a Handsome, charismatic man. That had
been part of his draw to a disenfranchised Wizard populous. He had spoken of
the old ways and returning to the Gods. It was toward the end that had changed,
and she didn’t know how. The Dark Lord had become unhinged and plagued by fear.
Only the most ardently loyal, like her sister, had refused to see it – or just
didn’t care.
 
            That was the worst and funniest part of it though. You had to be
fanatically loyal not to see what was happening. The Dark Lords increasing
insanity and thirst for power led to the decimation of many old and respectable
families. Anyone who opposed, or questioned the Dark Lord was slain without
quarter. And now he was back, but what could she do? Her own family was
scattered to the winds, its power in shambles, and she could not and would not
go to Albus-bloody-Dumbledore for aid.
 
            That meant that it fell to her to act, as a daughter of the House
of Black in good standing, but she had no idea where to start. This would be
much easier if she were the Head of House, she thought. She sat there for what
felt like forever, brainstorming and drawing up plans, only to discard them out
of hand. It felt hopeless, and for the hundredth time she wondered at how much
easier it would be if she were the head of house – the resources that she would
have available to her – but Sirius…
 
            Then it hit her. Of Course, Sirius, how could she not have thought
of it before! She wasn’t stupid, she know about her fugitive cousin’s animagus
form, she had seen him in the headmaster’s box at the tournament; even if she
wasn’t the wife of a Death Eater, she knew that Sirius was innocent. He would
never support the Dark Lord; and she was still getting her stipend from the
Black fortune, that more than anything was telling to her. She had never been
particularly fond of politics, but for the first time she was thankful to her
aunt Walburga for so insistently drilling it into them.
 
            Work to do, she thought as she stood up, took her wine glass, and
made her way to the drawing room. She had letters to write and things to set in
motion, and she was under no delusion as to the Opposition she would face. Most
of all the skepticism from her cousin, she imagined.
 
            She made her way through the corridors of Malfoy manor with a
surety that she was right. If this worked the way she hoped then she would be
able to protect herself and her family without having to cow to Dumbledore. On
her way she passed the Malfoy Family tapestry, and stopped to admire it as she
always did. It wasn’t as elaborate as the Black Family’s, but she loved the
intricate weaving of the silk and gold fabric. She noticed that one of the
limbs was glowing with a new date. Looking at it closely, her heart stopped
cold, and she gasped releasing a pained wail. The Tapestry read:
‘
                             Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
                                   1954-1994
                                        
            Narcissa nearly fell to her knees as her sorrow took her, however,
she leaned forward bracing herself against the wall. She vaguely heard the
glass shatter on the floor as sobs wracked her body. Her husband was dead, and
whatever else he may have been he was a loving husband, and she loved him.
 
            She stood there for nearly twenty minutes before she pulled herself
together. She would miss her husband, and no doubt those would not be the last
of her tears, but that would have to wait. She could not let this get to her
now, and she resolved to use her pain to fuel her resolve to protect what
remained of her family. So she took a minute more and with a deep breath stood
tall. “Lord Hades, hear me. Guide my husband to peace in your domain and judge
him with a merciful heart…”
 
            She decided there and then that she would not allow the Dark Lord
to take any more of her family. He had woken the long sleeping ire of the
Blacks and she would show him just why that was a thing to be feared. She made
her way to the bureau in the drawing room and opened the drawer. From it she
withdrew several sheaves of parchment and a small onyx ring with the sigil of a
rose with blood tipped thorns wrapped in garland. It was the sigil that marked
her as a rightful daughter of the House of Black. With that she took the self-
inking dict-o-quill and began to compose a probably too short, but long over-
due letter:
 
            Cousin,
                        It has been many years since we, the children of the
House of Black have corresponded in any meaningful way. So, I will spare the
both of us pointless pleasantries. I imagine that the both of us are aware of
the events of tonight and the significance that it represents. A storm is
coming cousin, and its effect have already touched the Malfoys. Just this
evening I witnessed my husband’s Date of Death on the Malfoy family tree, and
no matter what you thought of him he was my husband.
 
                        As a family we have often stood on the opposite side of
the political divide. It is no secret that you opposed Uncle Orion and Aunt
Walburga, but I believe that it is time to erase that divide. Whatever He may
have been in our parents’ time He is no longer. He has virtually decimated our
family and I have no wish to see it farther brought low from its once great
station.
 
                        I wish to restore our House and its name, to use it as
a weapon against him, and remind the world of the fury of the Blacks. That
begins with you cousin – as the Head of House. To that end, I am drafting
several letters on your behalf that if all goes accordingly, will set events
leading to your exoneration.
 
                        Help me, Sirius, to make “Semper Purus” more than just
words, more than blood. Help me to make it something to be proud of. Let the
Blacks be Pure of Heart.
 
            Narcissa Malfoy nee Black
 
                        P.S. As farther proof of me sincerity – as you no doubt
remain skeptical – and not without just cause, I Grant. I, Narcissa Malfoy,
invoke the Goddess Hecate as I make this pledge, to judge my intent. I hold No
malicious intent toward Sirius Black and intend to Unify and re-establish the
House of Black.
 
Gens Fedelus.
 
            Narcissa read though the letter again, it would not do to make a
mistake. When she was sure, she took the end of the quill and with a quick hard
push she pierced her index finger. Taking her ring in the other hand she
smeared the blood across the surface of the signet, making sure to cover it
evenly. Looking at the words Gens Fedelus – Family Loyalty – she pressed the
ring just beneath those very words. The parchment seemed to sizzle for a moment
and a fiery orange glow enveloped it before vanishing. When she pulled the ring
away a small red stencil-like mark that mirrored the rings signet adorned the
Parchment.
 
            Satisfied, she folded the parchment, took her wand from her evening
robe pocket and sealed it. Then she did something that was of immense surprise
to the aging elf – she called Kreature. The old elf popped into the dark room
surprised, but cautious. No one had called on Kreature since The Mistress had
died years ago. He looked around the room and saw a figure sitting at the desk,
and his magic fluttered in recognition – he knew who it was. “Mistress calls
Kreature?”
 
            Despite the harsh gravelly tone, Narcissa heard the hopeful
happiness in it. “Yes Kreature, I have a job that only you are suited for.” She
smiled sadly at the poor little elf. He was so neglected from years of
disservice. Perhaps she would take him in. “Take this letter and give it to
Sirius as soon as possible. It is imperative that he and only he get this
letter, do you understand?”
 
            Kreature looked almost mutinous at the idea, but it was the
Mistress telling him to do it so there must be a reason. He reached out and
took the letter before popping away. “Kreature will do.” Not that the elf had
much choice.
 
            Satisfied that her order would be carried out, Narcissa turned to
the desk again. She had four more letters to compose before bed: One to the
Ministry, One to Gringotts to discuss her and Draco’s holdings and dispense
with Lucius’s Will, another to their Barrister to discuss and Reopen Sirius’s
case, and the last to her son. That was the one that worried her the most of
all.
 
            She sighed and set to work, much to do…
 
                                      (+)
                                        
Location: Hogwarts
Time: 5:30 A.M.
 
 
 
            One of the biggest problems this going to a boarding schools, Harry
decided, was the complete lack of privacy. He was used to waking up at ungodly
hours so that didn’t make a difference. What sucked was the strain in his groin
every time he turned around and not being able to take care of it. Why couldn’t
he take care of it, you might ask? Because his fucking wand was burned to a
fucking cinder.
 
            He tossed himself on to his back with a frustrated sigh, listening
to the quiet around him. All there was, was quiet even breathing, the sound of
crickets in the night, and Ron’s snoring overpowering it all. “Screw it…” He
whispered to himself after a minute of lying there in silence, cock straining
awkwardly in his night shorts. If he counted the number of times he’d listened
to Seamus and Dean sucking each other off because they had forgotten the
silencing charm, or just didn’t care – he thought unbidden.
 
            His cock twitched in interest as the image of Dean on his knees in
Seamus’s bed, sucking his cock. He bit his lip to hold back the moan as his
hand trailed down his stomach and wrapped around his cock. He imagined Dean’s
ebony lips around the pale shaft as it pulsed in his mouth. Seamus’s fingers
tightening in Dean’s dark curls as his hips started to thrust, his tight ass
flexing and forming dimples.
 
            Harry’s breath became labored as he got closer and closer to
cuming, and gripped the base of his dick to try and stave it off; but it was
useless. He was already tumbling over the precipice, his body wracked with
trimmers. “Seamus…” The name escaped him before he could stop it as he worked
the last of the cum from his cock. “Fu…” he half swore as he lay boneless on
the bed.
 
 
            Harry lay awake in the dark of his dorm for several minutes
listening to his friends before he became motivated enough to move. I better
get a move on, he thought somewhat reluctantly. The day at Hogwarts started at
seven-thirty, but the Library opened up at six for any straggling students with
work to finish, or early study. He knew that he was exempt from Finals because
he was a Champion, but he had a lot of personal study to do in the ensuing days
– a lot to make up for, and he knew that if he wanted to get any of it done
that he would have to start early. Hermione might be impressed, he knew, but
Ron would try to distract him at every turn. The redhead just wouldn’t
understand why Harry was studying if he didn’t have finals.
 
            With his determination set he rolled out of bed, digging his toes
into the shag carpet as he stood and stretched. Making his way around to the
foot of his bed and opened his trunk. Looking a bit ragged, he thought. I’ll
have to get a new one when I go to Diagon Alley for my new wand.
 
            Rifling though it Harry retrieved the new toiletries that had
bought on his last trip to Hogsmeade – Hogwarts provided basic rudimentary
things, but he preferred his own – a change of clothes, and a towel since he
lacked a wand to do a drying charm. Having the items that he needed Harry crept
out of his dormitory and down the stairs.
 
            The common room was cold, dark and silent – not a surprise
considering how early it was. The hearth was burning dangerously low, so Harry
walked over and threw a new log on, before veering off to the loo just off the
common room.
 
            He made quick of his shower, taking care of his business and
exiting the bathroom, dressed in a basic red tee and black slacks and sneakers,
with about ten minutes to spare. By now his house mates were becoming more and
more active. The log he had set had caught, casting a glow in the early morning
light and there was a smattering of students around the common room. He had
left his things in the bathroom for the elves to pick up. He knew that he would
have them back by the end of the day.
 
            He wondered vaguely about that – a completely random thought, but
that wasn’t new. The house elves picked up random discarded cloths all the time
and weren’t offended by it, he knew from talking with Dobby that only the
Headmaster, or the master of the castle could dismiss an elf. Yet, while they
dutifully did their work, they avoided Gryffindor tower like the plague. That
told Harry that you elves were simply offended by Hermione and her misguided
efforts to free them. He shook his head at his friend’s behavior and made to
leave the common room.
 
            On his way out he noticed two first years sitting on one of the
sofa’s whispering and shooting him glances. He was used to this and didn’t
think anything of it, so he nodded politely and greeted them. “Nigel, Romilda,”
he said simply and they froze as if they had been caught at something. Romilda
Vance blushed a little, but he knew the young girl had a bit of a crush on him,
so he smiled and moved on. “Have a good day.”
 
            He remembered when he had come to Hogwarts four years ago, he had
thought that he would never learn his way around the castle. Now he knew them
like the back of his hand. Although, he admitted, hours of studying the
Marauders’ Map last year may have played a part in that as well. As it was, he
traversed the halls and staircases with a practiced ease, coming to a stop
before a set of large wooden doors.
 
            Opening the Library doors and stepping inside, Harry did a cursory
glance around. Even for a Monday, at this hour it was relatively quiet. There
was a few students, like himself that wanted to get a jump on exams at the end
of the week, and Madam Pince who looked half asleep at the front counter. He’d
bed five galleons with the Weasley twins that was Pepper-up potion in her mug.
 
            Making his way into the stacks he realized belatedly that he really
didn’t know where to start. He supposed that he could ask Madam Pince, but he
didn’t think that would be received well for some reason. Once again Harry
cursed. If he had his wand it would be simple, but a week at Hogwarts without
it was going to be murder. Think rationally Harry, he thought to himself. It
was a library, albeit a magical library, but what did all libraries have? He
turned around, changing course back to the front desk, or right next to it.
 
            The walls that lined either side of the counter were covered in
drawers. It was the Hogwarts catalog. An index of every book in the library by
title and/or subject. Most students didn’t use it, because again they could
summon or use their wands to point them, but for Harry… The only question was,
what did he want to look up? “That’s easy,” he muttered. “I want to know about
the Greek Gods and the powers I used in the graveyard, but what do I look under
– Magic associated with Thanatos, Death Magic’s?”
 
            That would take forever, Harry thought briefly, but as he
verbalized his query the catalog began to react. Sections of it began to glow;
one drawer, then two, and then a third high up near the ceiling – one for each
new subject that he mentioned. There was a brief flash and a slip of parchment
appeared on the little wooden podium at the end of the catalog, next to the
front desk. “Oh,” he said in pleasant surprise when he noticed it. It was
amazing. Four years at Hogwarts and he still didn’t know the basic functions of
the Library. Approaching the dais he picked up the parchment. It was a list of
relevant books he wanted, and where to find them – in which section. “I really
love Magic. Thank you,” he whispered into the air. He wasn’t sure if the castle
could hear or understand him, but he wouldn’t put it past the old girl.
 
            He took another look at the list:
 
Greek History: The complete guide to the Greek Way of Life, Ancient Greece,
Greek Gods, Zeus, Hercules, Titans, and more!
By strugrur Agorim
Magical History & Theology
 
Greek Gods and Heroes
By Lord Cruroar Dragonsbane Many-Thumbs
Magical History & Theology
 
Death Magic and the Underworld
By Brenys Shipsail the Dungsweeper
Magical Theory and Application
Restricted Section
 
Necromancy for Beginners
By Bellamin the Wizard
Magical Theory and Application
Restricted Section
 
            Now that he knew generally what he was looking for he made quick
work of it. He’d been in the Library enough to know his way around. He started
in the history section and then moved on to the restricted section. One of the
perks of being a champion was unrestricted access to the library, something
Hermione had used their friendship to capitalize on all year – not that he
minded. Granted, the intent of the exception was to study for the tournament,
which was over, but there was no stipulation to that fact. So he could push it
to the end of the year.
 
            Finding a table in the corner of the restricted section, Harry sat
down and picked up a book. He chose Death Magic and the Underworld first. He
wanted to know about the magic’s that he had used against Tom and he thought
that might be the best starting point. He quickly lost himself in the tome.
There was a lot of interesting information in it. He could see why Hermione
liked the Library so much.
 
            There were listings and descriptions of all kinds of magic’s:
 
Nether Manipulation, or Entropy-
User can create, shape and manipulate Nether, the "Chthonian Element" that
flows through the realms of the living, and the Dead. Nether is most known as
the substance that makes up the Underworld, a subterranean dimension where all
souls go when they pass on. Nether is very similar to Aether “the Celestial
Element” in that is from a Plane that exists between the planes of both matter,
and energy. However, although it can partake in the nature of either
substances, Nether is neither of these things.
 
Despite being often considered "Death-Force" Nether is more than the source of
what drains life away from living things, it is the destructive aspect of
reality, the source and very concept of entropy and destruction, disasters and
all degeneration in matter, energy and concepts. It is the power that makes
possible and ensures severing the soul's connection to their mortal body, so
they can pass onto the afterlife. It is also the power that summons and
controls the souls of the deceased. Users of this power acknowledge that Nether
exists in Elemental, Cosmic, and Spiritual forces. Nether exists in the cosmos
as sort of a gateway between the land of the Living and the Dead, stretching
out to anywhere where death has potential to occur.
 
Like Aether, Nether is a Spiritual Element, which means it cannot be perceived
by any physical sense. The only way Nether can be seen is if it were mixed with
an Element of the Physical Realm (Most often Darkness, Fire, or Earth).
 
Necromancy, or Necrokenisis –
The user's magical abilities revolve around manipulating the dead, death, the
life-force and/or souls for good (i.e., resurrecting the dead), evil (in
various ways) or neither. Users can also use communicate with the deceased –
either by summoning their spirit as an apparition or raising them bodily – for
the purpose of divination, imparting the means to foretell future events or
discover hidden knowledge.
 
Many practitioners find a way to cheat death one way or another, whether by
becoming some form of undead creature or by bypassing their own ability to die.
 
Death Inducement, or NecroGenisis –
User can kill anyone and possibly even anything using varying means, either
instantly, slowly over time, after certain conditions are met, or after a
certain period of time has gone. May be used by touch, at a distance, simply
willing it to happen, or performing certain rituals.
 
Ectoplasm Manipulation, or Spectral Energy Manipulation –
The power to manipulate ectoplasm. Sub-power of Astral Manipulation and Soul
Manipulation, variation of Energy Manipulation.
 
User can create, shape and manipulate extra-planar energy called ectoplasm,
which comes from the roots ektos meaning “outside” and plasma meaning
“something formed or molded”, as such it can be understood as a variable-state
form of matter-energy coming from planes beyond the physical. Its form can
range from raw seething energy, a misty vapor, a viscous gelatin, a bundle of
fine threads, a living membrane or a fine, fabric-like tissue that can also be
solidified and used for material purposes.
 
Because of its unstable, esoteric properties, ectoplasm reacts to normal
matter/energy in unusual and useful ways, including being able to ignore most
of them. Some mediums secrete or emit ectoplasm in order to facilitate
communication with ghosts. Coating spiritual entities in ectoplasm may assist
them in interacting with the physical plane. Ectoplasm itself is often valued
as an ingredient in alchemical magic.
 
            Harry stopped as he read the entry on Ectokenisis, and thought
about all that he had done and the forms that it had taken He thought about the
flames that he had used to protect Cedric’s body, how he had used it as a
shield to stop the unstoppable, and as an offensive weapon – hurling deadly
fireballs an needles – but what made it click was the threads. He remembered
how he had used the threads to ensnare and bind Tom, stopping the Fiendfyre and
bring it to his knees. He would have to look into that more. If what the book
said was true and Ectoplasm was all around them, then the potential for that
kind of power was nearly limitless.
 
            He became so absorbed in his tome that he lost track of time. When
he looked up at the grandfather clock on the far wall read eight-fifteen.
“Better call it,” he thought. If he missed all of breakfast his friends would
hunt him down, thinking that he was hiding and moping – which he wasn’t – and
he would never have a moment alone. So, picking up his books and made his way
to Madam Pince who looked decidedly more awake, he decided. “Madam Pince, I
want to check these four out this week,” he said politely and sat the books on
the counter between them. “I’m going to need them shrank too, if you can
please.”
 
            “Good Morning Mr. Potter,” she said politely in return as she
scanned his books with a swish of her wand. She stopped half way though and
looked at the titles: Death Magic and the Underworld, and Necromancy for
Beginners. “I’m sorry Mr. Potter,” she said to him with a slight quiver in her
tone. She was eying him cautiously now. “I can’t release these books to you.”
 
            Truth be told Harry thought she might have objected, but that
didn’t mean that he planned to give up at the drop of a hat. “Why not,” he
asked her with a furrowed brow, playing the confused card – like he had no idea
why she was objecting. It actually wasn’t that much of an act, as he would
explain to her.
 
            “Because they’re Dark Arts Mr. Potter,” she whispered scandalized,
as if the answer were obvious. To be fair to her it was, it was just completely
stupid.
 
            “Yes,” he conceded her argument. He really couldn’t argue the point
because the subject in them was considered dark by general standards. “Yet they
can be found in a school library,” he countered her argument. It made perfect
sense to him. “That tells me one of two things; either it’s not illegal to read
about the Dark arts – only to actively practice them – or these books don’t
belong in the Hogwarts library to begin with. In which case I’m free to take
them off your hands anyway – without your consent.”
 
            The librarian stared at him piercingly for a moment, weighing her
options. She could let him check them out and return them Friday, thereby
limiting his exposure, or deny that they did belong there and he’d take them
anyway, because he wasn’t wrong. “OK Mr. Potter,” she relented with a sigh of
defeat. She finished marking the books and shrunk them to pocket size as he’d
requested. “I expect them back Friday after breakfast,” she said sternly.
 
            Harry nodded sagely in understanding, and smiled unoffended by her
tone. It was quite normal for her to be harsh with students about her books,
and it made sense as term ended then and they would be headed home after lunch.
“Of course Madam, have a good day.”
 
            He was happy that he had taken the time to magically expand his
pockets at the beginning of the year after he’d learned it from Crouch. He took
the shrunken books and put them in his pocket, leaving the library. On his way
to the Great Hall a loud bark drew his attention, and Snuffles bound up from
behind him. “Morning boy,” he smiles and scratched the grim behind the ears.
“Did you have a good night’s sleep?” Snuffles barked affirmatively and Harry
nodded. “Good, I’ll have to thank Dobby when I see him.”
 
            A hushed whisper fell over the din of conversation when Harry
entered, and several glanced at him out of the corner of the eye wirily. None
of this surprised Harry. As much as it annoyed him he chose to be realistic
about it. He had popped out of the maze with the body of a student, which was
bound to set tongues wagging. So he ignored it as best he could and found his
seat between Hermione and Ron. “Where have you been Harry,” Hermione asked him
as seen as he was settled and began to load his plate. “You nearly missed
breakfast.”
 
            Harry shrugged non-committedly. “Just needed some time alone,” he
said without looking at her.
 
            Hermione’s eyes clouded with pity when she heard him. “Oh Harry,”
she wailed predictably assuming that Harry was off mopping over Cedric. “What
happened to Cedric wasn’t your fault,” she urged him. “Everyone knew that the
tournament was a risk from the beginning.”
 
            So Dumbledore hasn’t made the announcement yet, Harry thought. “Oh
I know that,” he said evenly and it was true. He didn’t like it and he felt bad
that Cedric had died, but he didn’t blame himself. “I don’t blame myself, I
blame Voldemort.”
 
            Ron yelled in surprise and shock hearing Tom’s alias, choking on
the food he was in the process of chewing. “Bloody Hell mate,” he exclaimed
sputtering as Harry patted his back. “What?!”
 
            So harry proceeded to tell his friends what he had told the
Headmaster and the Ministry. He told them about how he had discovered Professor
Moody was actually Barty Crouch under polyjuice, much to Hermione’s horror, and
how he had fooled the Goblet of Fire by adding his name under a Fourth school.
He told them about how Crouch had made the cup a portkey and how he and Cedric
had agreed to take it, and finally how Tom had murdered Cedric – or rather
ordered it – and used his blood in a resurrection ritual.
 
            It was that last bit about the blood that concerned Hermione the
most, and she started lecturing them about the dangers of blood magic and the
things that can be done with it. Harry found himself becoming increasingly
annoyed with his friend. “What, do you think that I volunteered the blood
Hermione,” he snapped at her. She cycled through a few expressions before
settling. She scowled affronted, but had the decency to blush.
 
            Any farther debate, or augment was cut short by the parliament of
owls that invaded the Great Hall with the morning mail, much to Harry’s relief.
Among them was a very unique and noticeable snowy white owl that swooped down
from the flock and landed in front of Harry. “Hedwig,” he said dotingly to the
owl and stroked her feathers. “You got something for me girl?” She preened
under Harry’s attention and stood straighter as she puffed her chest and held
her leg out proudly.
 
            Harry grinned as he untied the sealed letter and gave Hedwig a
piece of his apple as a treat. “Thanks Girl,” he said as he opened the letter.
 
                                  Young One,
Enclosed is a place that will aid you greatly in the coming days. It is a place
 for others like you to learn and train. After school, make your way there as
                               soon as you can.
               Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141
                          Long Island, New York 11954
                                        
            A smile as big as Harry’s face formed as he read the note. It
wasn’t signed, but he knew who it was from without a doubt; and he recognized
the place, even if he’d never been there. “What’s the letter,” Hermione asked
curiously. “Who’s it from?” She asked him as she made to grab the note from his
hands.
 
            He looked at her when he heard her asking about the note. Oh just
the best thing ever, he thought. He could just imagine his friend’s reaction.
“Hey!” Harry exclaimed before he could respond, holding the letter out of
reach. “I don’t go around nosing into your mail,” he glared at her. “What gives
you the right to just grab peoples stuff?” By now he had drawn the attention of
those around him, and he got up, extricating himself from the table. “If you’ll
excuse me, I have to go talk to a girl about summer plans.”
 
            Yet again, Harry ignored the looks he got and the whispers he
garnered and walked away, scanning the hall for Luna; an action that would only
cause more gossip as The Boy Who Lived spoke to Loony Lovegood. “Look what I
got,” he said enthusiastically. He sat down in one of the open seats across
from the blond third year, and handed her the slip of paper. “I just have to
figure out how to get there.”
 
            “You’ll need to go to Gringotts,” Luna said absently as she looked
at Harry’s note, before handing it back to him. “Ask to speak to your account
manager. He’ll help you get your affairs and finances in order, facilitate a
passport and Portkey… Goblin’s are profit driven, they’ll help you do anything
for a price.”
 
            He hadn’t thought of that, but nodded in agreement. Plus, he knew
that the Potters were a relatively old Pure-blood family, it wouldn’t hurt to
take a look at its holdings. “I need to go to Diagon anyway,” he responded as
an afterthought. “I need to find a new wand, my Phoenix Feather was destroyed
in the duel.”
 
            “I want you to do me a favor,” Luna said suddenly. “You see that
salt shaker on the table? Levitate it.”
 
Harry looked at her oddly for a minute. How was he supposed to do that without
a wand? He shrugged and humored the girl, the worst that would happen was that
it wouldn’t work and he’d look like an idiot. Done that before, he thought. He
extended his arm, and swished and flicked just like he had been taught to do
with his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he incanted and felt a rush of power as
the salt slowly rose up off the table, and suddenly fell abruptly. “How!” Harry
demanded in shock at his own feat of wandless magic.
 
Luna looked at Harry and smiled indulgently as if it should be obvious, and to
be fair maybe it was. Harry had been known to be oblivious to the obvious in
the past. “Think about it Harry,” she told him. “Wizards and Witches use wands
to focus and channel magical energy through a core, right? You are a Demigod,
your blood itself is a highly conductive magical substance.”
 
He looked at Luna utterly flabbergasted. She made it sound so simple, but it
made perfect sense when he thought about it. She’s a Ravenclaw for a reason, he
thought.
 
That’s how the majority of the rest of Harry’s week went. He would wake up in
the morning, shower and study. Then he would go to breakfast and sit and talk
to Luna, a lot of the time about things that he had read in his books –
comparing what he read with what was fact according to someone who was exposed
to that fact – before going to class and studying more.
 
While there was no rule against sitting at other tables, gods knew that
Dumbledore encouraged inter-house relations enough, Harry’s continued presence
at the Ravenclaw table was cause for talk. Although, Harry paid it no notice.
He was used to talk and barely noticed.
 
Dumbledore eventually told them all what he knew of Cedric’s death, and the
circumstances that had led to it. It rocked all of Hogwarts and a wave of fear
overtook the school. Harry could already see a divide forming: Those that
naturally believed Dumbledore and believed that Voldemort had returned, and
those driven by their fear to denial. Either way there were letters going in
and out of Hogwarts full of the same speculation. If the Hogwarts microcosm was
any indication, he was not hopeful.
 
Harry told Sirius about the letter, showing it to him when he got the man alone
again and told him his plan. Sirius had naturally been skeptical of an unsigned
letter telling Harry to go to some mysterious camp and the boy could understand
that, especially given recent events. “…And if it’s legitimate? You heard Luna
tell us about Camp Half-blood yourself,” Harry argued with his godfather.
“Besides, we both know that I need to do this.”
 
Sirius looked mutinous, wanting to argue the point, but knew that Harry was
right. Though he didn’t know the contents, Sirius knew about the prophecy.
James had told him that much when he had come to Sirius about the Fedelus, and
he knew that Voldemort would continue to target Harry. He determined to tell
Harry what he knew as soon as possible. “All right,” he relented to Harry’s
logic reluctantly. “But I’m going with you!” Sirius scowled at Harry letting
him know that point was non-negotiable. “Besides, the Blacks have a Penthouse
we can use not far from Long Island. We can stay there.”
 
Harry grinned madly and launched himself at Sirius, trapping him in a hug,
accepting his godfather’s terms. Truthfully, the idea of having Sirius close at
hand, even if he would technically be away for the summer was an attractive
idea. “Thank you Sirius,” he said thankfully. He was so happy to finally have
someone he felt was truly on his side. He knew that Sirius was skittish of all
of this, but he was actively trying to support Harry in spite of that.
 
It was the Thursday night before the end of term – the next day – and Harry was
quietly reading the Greek history book that he would have to return tomorrow,
sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione. Ron was ignoring him in
favor of his plate, as Harry had predicted, not understanding his sudden
fascination with studying, but Harry wasn’t offended. While Hermione, who
approved, was eying him curiously. “What are you reading Harry,” she asked him
– cautiously this time. She was in no rush to have him snap at her again.
 
Harry looked up from the book, turning his attention to Hermione. “Greek Gods
and Heroes, by Lord Cruroar Dragonsbane Many-Thumbs.” He said, showing her the
book.
 
Hermione’s brow furrowed upon hearing this information. “I thought you were
reading something practical, not wasting time with myths and fairytales,” she
said condescendingly. “Everyone knows those stories aren’t real.”
 
To be fair to her, two weeks ago Harry would've agreed with her, but for some
reason her confrontational attitude seemed to be rubbing him the wrong way this
week." Oh, just like Magic wasn't real four years ago," he argued counter to
her logic.
 
“Don’t be ridiculous Harry,” she said to him in that tone of hers, and Harry
felt once again that he was being talked down to. “That’s an entirely different
argument. Those beliefs are entirely primitive. There’s only one god.”
 
Harry had mental whiplash just then. He did not believe that the logical and
rational Hermione Granger had just reverted to such a base argument. It
shouldn’t have surprised him that Hermione was apparently Christian, but it
did. Even Ron turned to look at her then. He had expected her, as with a lot of
analytical minds, to claim atheism, or at the very least agnosticism.
 
“Oh because Hellenism is so much less believable then your tribal nomad god.”
Granted, he knew that the Israelite god existed as well – Thanatos had all but
blatantly said as much –but that wasn’t the point. “Forgetting the fact that
Hellenism is older by a thousand years,” he stressed the point. “Most of the
Theology was taken from Hellenismos: Heaven, the apple in the garden, Solomon,
Jesus Christ. All of these things are pagan. Your own prophet –Christ – is a
Sun god, born of a Virgin like the Egyptian God Horus, or Dionysus born to
Shemele.” He could see her becoming more and more frustrated, but he carried
on, driving his point home. “The Christians even took pagan holidays as their
own: Christmas and Yule, Easter and the Spring Equinox – Beltane, Halloween and
Samhain…”
 
“Harry’s right,” Ron put his two cents into the conversation, surprising both
of them. “Britain and Western Europe were Hellenic since the Romans were
expelled from the Isles, long before the Christian priests and his warriors
came. Many Wizard families still claim Hellenismos.”
 
Hermione sat there floundering; she wanted to argue and disagree, and she knew
that she was right, but she knew that it was a dead end debate. Even Ron had
disagreed with her, and arguing with him was like yelling at a brick wall. She
settled for letting the matter lay for the time being, but she would study and
come back.
 
Even though she let the matter drop, Harry knew his friend; this would not be
the last he heard of it, but any further thought on the subject was halted by
Professor McGonagall’s approach. “Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see
you in his office.”
 
She said it in that prim Scottish baroque that she gets, and if he hadn’t known
her for four years he’d think she were cross with him. Of course, to be fair to
her, one generally didn’t get called to the headmaster’s office for evening
tea. So, he was at a loss as to anything he could have done to draw
Dumbledore’s attention. “Thank you Professor,” he said politely not bothering
to hide his confusion.
 
He said farewell to his friends and left the Hall. Six floors up and standing
in front of the gargoyle that led to Dumbledore’s office, Harry swore
viciously. He wondered vaguely if the Headmaster took some twisted joy in
making people guess whatever eccentricity of his was the password that week. I
hope Neville never has to come up here, he thought in passing. “We both know
the Headmaster wants to see me,” he said frustrated to the Gargoyle. “Would you
be so kind and let me pass?” It remained still for a moment and then jumped
aside in vaguely animated fashion, surprising Harry. “Thank you…”
 
Harry stepped past the Gargoyle and rode the escalating stairs up to the door
and knocked before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The
Headmaster wanted to see him, so he should be expected. He took a minute to
look around the office. He liked it there, he always felt warm and safe and a
little bit awed. It was cozy; cluttered but in that unique sort of way that
made it your own. The portraits snored in their flames pretending to be asleep,
but Harry knew better; and Fawlks was on his perch with his head in his wing
lightly snoozing. “You wanted to see me Headmaster,” he inquired of Dumbledore
who sat behind the desk.
 
“Indeed my boy,” Dumbledore said jovially and motioned for Harry to sit,
offering him tea and his lemon drops which, of course, Harry declined. “I
wanted to check in with you before you went home for the summer. How has your
last week been, are you looking forward to returning to your aunt and uncles?”
 
Harry eyed Dumbledore questioningly. How could the man think that he wanted to
go back to his aunt and uncle? Harry had called Tom out about wanting to stay
at Hogwarts, but that had been hypocrisy at its finest. Harry would much rather
stay at Hogwarts instead of go to his relatives. Granted, he didn’t intend to
stay that summer, but that was beside the point. “Things are tense, but that’s
to be expected,” Harry chose to focus on the first question. “No one wants to
think about, let alone admit that Tom is back.”
 
Dumbledore was quiet for a minute as he looked at Harry searchingly. “I
understand that Sirius intends to return with you,” he said. “I’m afraid I
can’t allow that. It's not safe.”
 
Harry looked at Dumbledore in shock, like he’d just claimed to be a Nargle, to
quote Luna. Because you have so much room to talk about what’s safe, Harry
thought privately. He went through all of his schooling: Allowing a Dark wizard
possessed by a wraith into a school, holding a dangerous magical artifact in
said school, allowing an eleven year old girl to be possessed by a dark
artifact, and allowing a convicted death eater to impersonate a retired Auror
in a school full of children. “You’re the last person I want to hear a lecture
on safety from, he found himself saying haughtily. The more he thought about it
the more it pissed him off. “And I wasn’t aware that my summer plans, or who I
spent it with were your concern.”
 
Dumbledore sat back in his chair flabbergast, it looked almost as if Harry had
slapped him – in a way he had, verbally. “I’m sorry that you feel that way
Harry,” he said evenly. He wasn’t used to Harry being confrontational, it
worried him. “But with Sirius’s fugitive status I do not believe that it would
be wise for either of you.”
 
“Yes,” Harry seized upon that slip. “A status he holds illegally no less. Which
I find interesting,” he challenged while adopting a mock contemplative pose. “I
find it interesting that you – the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot – couldn’t
insist on a trial.” Harry rose deliberately from the chair before moving toward
the exit. “If you will excuse me Headmaster, unless there are any other
educational matters that you would like to discuss, I must go pack.”
 
He did not wait for a response, or a dismissal and exited swiftly. He descended
the escalator two steps at a time in his haste, putting as much distance as
possible between himself and the office. He did not know how much he trusted
his temper.
 
The next day – Friday – everyone was packed and ready to go home. Harry had
returned the Library books, and was once again sitting at the Ravenclaw table
telling Luna about his meeting with the Headmaster. “Oh yes, he’s a sly one,
ears all over the Castle.” Luna agreed dreamily. Harry was fast becoming
accustomed to it. “The Whisper-men tell him everything.”
 
Because of who she was, Luna was often associative and Harry was beginning to
understand her more and more, but sometimes he still had trouble. He tried to
think of what Luna could mean – who or what could be the Whisper-men – but he
just came up blank. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Harry apologized, and he
really was sorry because he knew that Luna wasn’t being intentionally vague.
When all he got back was an indifferent shrug he let it go and moved on.
 
“I can’t wait till we get out of here,” he said excitedly and it wasn’t lost on
him that this was the first time in ever that he had wanted to leave Hogwarts,
but he was very excited about the idea of camp. “I’m meeting Snuffles when we
leave here and going straight to Diagon Alley.”
 
“I’ll see you soon,” he smiled and waved at Luna as he got up to make his way
out of the Hall. If he wanted to get away unmolested he had to go before
Dumbledore’s farewell speech. Sirius would be waiting for him in the Shrieking
Shack, so Harry quickly made his way to the Womping Willow on the Hogwarts
grounds. He sought out the knot at the base of the tree Sirius had told him
about “Stupefy...” He whispered with a short jab of his index and middle
finger.
 
The tree ceased its flailing when the spell connected, and Harry adopted a
pleased look at his success. His ability to perform wandless magic still
fascinated him. Looking back at the school one last time Harry disappeared into
the tunnel. The last time Harry had been down there he had felt his world
crushed soon after. It was ironic that he was facing a life changing event
again. Reaching the end of the tunnel Harry raised the trapdoor and peeked out
to make sure that he was alone.
 
Seeing nothing, Harry threw the trapdoor open and climbed up. He looked around
for a second at the old shack. It still looked a bit ragged, but a lot of the
dust, dirt and grime were gone. It was almost clannish. “Sirius,” Harry called
moderately.
 
The floor creaked under the sound of footsteps approaching, and Harry’s face
broke out into a grin as Sirius came into view. He was wearing a simple black
robe with the hood down. Harry quickly closed the gap between them and wrapped
the man in a hug. “I never took you as a basic black kind of guy,” Harry teased
his wardrobe choice likely.
 
"I'll ignore the bad pun in there," Sirius said as he pulled away. "And I know,
it's very Snape-ish, but it’s non-descript. Are you ready?” Harry nodded, he
had made sure to shrink his trunk that morning and it was safely tucked in his
pocket. “Good, we’re going to Apperate – a form of instant travel – to the
entrance of Knochturn Alley and hoof it to Gringotts.” Harry briefly wondered
why they didn’t just Apperate directly to Gringotts, but after thinking about
it, this would be less conspicuous than just appearing on a crowded street in
front of the bank. “OK, take my arm and remember to exhale slowly when we
land.”
 
Raising his hood and drawing his wand, Sirius and Harry disappeared with a loud
pop. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, one chapter of Harry’s life came
to an end and a new, exciting and frightening chapter was about to begin.
Chapter End Notes
     And Chapter 2 is done, thank the Gods! Much longer then anticipated
     at 15,087 Words and 37 full pages. Yes I'm proud of that, and
     infuriated because it refused to end, but there's A LOT of
     information and I wanted to wrap up 4th year. We now know what the
     Power Harry used against Voldemort and we know who Luna's God-parent
     is. I was Going to wait till Chapter 3 to reveal, but that didn't
     work out. That's what happens when you Follow the Muses.
     Also, I know that there are some cliche's in here, but 2 things about
     that. I like Cliche's, and they have their place. They are the Method
     by which we measure Originality.
     Read and Review, they feed the Muses!
     Till next time Lovelies!
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Narcissa looked at herself and her black lace Emilio Pucci gown in the floor
length mirror one last time, running her hands over the hips and checking her
hair. She had never been overly fond of Muggles; she freely admitted that –
they had always been a bit backwards and foreign to her – but she did admit to
liking their dress style. She much preferred it to witches robes.
 
She had a lot to do that day, and it might seem to be a bit much in comparison
to her robes, but she intended to make a statement today. She may not be the
Head of them, but she was a Black and a Malfoy and she was going to remind
everyone what that meant. She picked up the Parchment that she had received
four days ago, and read it yet again – it was easily the tenth time that she
had done so that week.
 
Narcissa,
 
As I respond to your letter, I must have reread it five times. I am not an
eloquent man and won’t even try to be. So I will begin by saying that you are
indeed right, and that the dark lord has indeed returned, and the consequences
will be far reaching.
 
I’m sure that it won’t surprise you to know that I’m skeptical of your claim
and desire to help me – even if you are open about you motives. Your oath went
quite far in convincing me that you are in fact genuine, but it is the honesty
of your selfish motives that drives my quill. As you said, there are no deep
bonds within our family, but you were never one to dirty your own hands, and
have been known to hold a grudge.
 
Saying that, while there is no love lost between Lucius and myself, I have
always known that you love him deeply. As such, my sympathy and condolences go
to you and my young cousin Draco as well as those of the House of Black to
House Malfoy.
 
Likewise, I must admit to a certain amount of personal pleasure at the idea of
using the very house that once served the Dark Lord as an instrument of
opposition against him – if only to spite Mother – and it is a weapon that
could be useful in the future. Knowing this, I will concede to meeting with you
and your barrister to help make my case. If the intent is genuine I will be at
Gringotts on the thirteenth of July between noon and three p.m. - ask to see
Dgenuk Stonesnapper, the Black Family account manager.
Paddfoot
Lord of the House of Black
          
                Much like she had done herself the end of the letter possessed
the seal sigil of the head of house, a large imposing grim with its teeth bared
set against a silver shield. It was this that told her that the letter was
genuine, because as long as it possessed the seal of the Head of House forms
could be signed with whatever the Head of House wanted. She had to give her
cousin credit as well, because while the goblins held treaties with the various
magical nations, they were a nation unto themselves and held sovereignty. Any
act of aggression within Gringotts halls would be seen as a violation of that
sovereignty and an act of war, and goblins were not trusting creatures – it’s
what made them good bankers. A very intelligent move on Sirius’s part.
 
            It wasn’t trust and she hadn’t expected it to be. Distrust seems to
be a trait that all Blacks share, she thought. So no it wasn’t trust, but he
was willing to talk and that was a start. She was willing to wager that
Sirius’s desire to be exonerated had weighed heavily in his decision, but she
didn’t care. She had gotten the positive result that she had wanted.
 
            She sat the letter back down on the bureau and picked up her signet
ring. Today would be the first day that she had worn it since before the end of
the first war. She steeled herself and slipped it on. It was as off a spell had
overcome her; the emotions vanished from her face, replaced by a stark
confidence and she held herself straighter, head held high – every bit the lady
of the house. Today would change the fate the House of Black – for better or
worse, she thought as she made her way to the Vestibule floo room.
 
            She took a pinch of floo powder and stepped into the hearth with a
deep breath. “Diagon Alley,” she called and vanished into the floo network,
leaving behind a silent Malfoy manor.
 
                                      (+)
            Knockturn Alley was a dark and quiet place. Unlike its bright and
bustling counterpart, Knockturn’s residents preferred to stick to themselves.
Where Diagon was sunlit and cheery, Knockturn was dreary and cast in shadows,
as if there was a spell over the entire area. Suddenly the peaceful silence was
broken by a loud crack, drawing the attention of the alley’s denizens. “It’s
official,” Harry complained loudly as they landed, and he stumbled grabbing the
nearby wall for support. “There are no magical means of travel that don’t suck!
Except brooms,” he added as an after-thought. He loved being in the air on his
broom.
 
            Sirius laughed listening to his Godson’s outburst. “It’s just like
learning to walk,” he said as he patted Harry’s shoulder and helped to steady
him. “You wobble and stumble, but the more you do it the easier and steadier
you get. The trick is to find your center of gravity.” Harry muttered something
that sounded vaguely like a particularly rude suggestion, but Sirius only
smirked and ignored it. “Come on, we have a lot to do,” he said instead. “Once
we get the Potter estate back in order I have some business to tend to, and
then we’ll do some shopping before we cross the pond.”
 
            Harry nodded and followed Sirius quickly from the dark alley into
the sun. He wasn’t much of a shopper, but then again he’d always been
constrained by the Dursleys’. It wasn’t that he didn’t want stuff, but if he
started spending large amounts then they would be curious about where it was
coming from, and he wasn’t sure if his aunt could gain access to his account,
or if their rhabdophobia extended to gold. Might be fun to splurge a little, he
conceded. “Wait a minute,” he said suddenly having a thought. “Not against a
shopping trip, but how exactly is that going to work out for you? You can’t
exactly go waltzing down Diagon alley for very long.”
 
            Sirius smirk was hidden in his robe hood as he looked back at
Harry. “That’s another reason for the robe pup,” he told the boy humorously.
“You can give it to Madam Malkin.” They reached the bank and Sirius took the
stairs two at a time with Harry following close behind. The goblins on guard at
the doors eyed them briefly but said nothing as they passed. As usual, because
Gringotts was the hub of British magical economy, was a den of activity. Sirius
waited for an open teller and approached. “Sirius Black – my ward Harry Potter
needs to see the Potter account manager.”
 
            Harry watched the teller as he looked up at them with a distinctly
disinterested expression. “Does Mr. Potter have his key?” He asked them with an
almost snide inflection, but Harry wasn’t sure that it was intentional. From
what Harry knew from Binns classes – those that he paid attention to – and his
admittedly limited exposure to the goblins, they were a naturally abrasive race
who preferred direct concise interaction. He would wager that was what made
relations with the Ministry so tense and strained.
 
            The goblin was watching him intently, sniffing, and Harry realized
to his derision that he did not in fact have his key. “I do not,” he told the
goblin in a firm but even voice. He thought about it and realized that he had
not actually had his key in a long time. If he remembered correctly then he had
given it to Mrs. Weasley in his second year at Hogwarts on their pre-term
supply run, and he had never gotten it back. He would need to ask Mrs. Weasley
about that when he got the chance. “What can be done to rectify this,” he
asked.
 
            The Teller seemed a bit put off that Harry didn’t have his key,
which he – Harry – supposed he understood to a point. If a vault key was
Gringotts primary method of identification, then losing it could present minor
complications. Personally Harry thought that was a particularly unsecure
method, but then again, it made about as much sense as the laminated cards
muggles used. “I will need a few drops of your blood to verify your identity,”
the goblin informed him plainly. “You will then need to speak to your account
manager to have the missing key destroyed, and a new key forged.”
 
            Harry stopped, he was very uncomfortable with giving away his
blood. Unlike some wizards, Harry held no prejudice against the goblins, but he
knew what could be done with it now. Given what he had been through he
hesitated to freely give his blood to a stranger. Sirius, sensing his godson’s
discomfort, laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright Harry,” he told the boy
as he lowered his hood to look Harry in the eye. “They will destroy the sample
after verification, and I will be watching the whole time.”
 
            The lowering of Sirius’s hood caused a panic throughout the bank.
Gasps rang out at the sight of him, and some men and women ran for the floo
while others reached for their wands. Suddenly, there was a deafening crack. A
small fire team of four goblins marched forward from out of nowhere with a
thunder-struck look on their faces. They wore armor of beaten leather with the
chest, arms and legs covered in steel. One of the goblin warriors stepped
forward and drew his sword. “There are to be No acts of aggression on sovereign
Goblin soil,” he boomed threateningly with a magically amplified voice.
“Violators will be held and tried under Goblin law in accordance with the
treaty of 874!”
 
            People froze in shock as they witnessed the spectacle, everyone
standing silently and weighing the goblins warning. Soon quiet whispers of
gossip and speculation broke out across the hall. It appeared that the people’s
fear of the goblins out-weighed the fear of having Sirius Black, mass murdering
Death Eater among them. It said a great deal that people would rather that than
be tried under goblin law? Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The fire
team had vanished under what Harry assumed was an invisibility spell again, and
Harry turned his attention back to the teller and his business. “What do I need
to do,” Harry asked as he centered himself, exhaling heavily.
 
            The goblin handed him a dagger that looked more like a stick pin to
harry, it was fat, but the length of the thing was no more than three inches.
Additionally, he handed Harry a long thin vial that looked like something he’d
use in Snape’s class. “Just a few drops Mr. Potter,” he reminded the boy. He
watched them like a hawk as Harry handed the vial to Sirius, unaware of the
eyes of the bank patrons on them the whole time, and pierced his palm with a
wince. Harry made a fist and let a few droplets fall into the vial. He didn’t
notice that as he did this his teller, and several other goblins stiffened and
turned to Harry sniffing the air hungrily.
 
            They watched silently as at first nothing happened, and then the
vial started to glow a faint white and then shifted to an emerald green, but it
was tainted by flecks of black, and gold. Sirius handed the vial back to the
goblin and drew his wand, muttering a healing spell over his palm and watched
as the swell of blood retracted back into his body, and the cut sealed itself.
Meanwhile the desk clerk examined the sample, scowling all the while. The
sample did show positive; it was Harry Potter, but the sample was off from
their record. He tapped it, muttering in gobbledygook before nodding. He would
have to update the record before they destroyed the sample. “Gulley,” the
goblin barked and a relatively young looking porter rushed forward in response.
“Take Mr. Potter and his companion to see his manager.”
 
            Harry followed Gulley through the halls of Gringotts when he
motioned for them to follow, looking around the halls at his gilded
surroundings, but his mind wasn’t focused on that. Instead his mind drifted to
the spectacle in the main hall. Sirius was so stupid to show his face like
that. He had expected the man to be apprehended, not for the Goblin’s to ignore
him. They had been more concerned about violence in the bank. “Do you want to
explain what just happened to me,” he whispered heavily to his Godfather. “Why
weren’t you arrested?”
 
            By this point they had made it to an office door with a name plaque
on it that read:
 
                              Skodam Chaosswiller
                            Potter Account Manager
 
            “Lord Black has committed no crime against the Goblin Nation,”
Chaosswiller spoke when he heard Harry’s question and Gully waved them in,
backing out of the room slowly. “Additionally, as Lord Black has not been tried
under Wizarding statute then he is technically not a criminal.”
 
           Thinking about it that way it made an absurd amount of sense, and
Harry wondered if the Ministry realized it. Probably not, he thought absently.
He was no lawyer, but even he could see the ramifications in that. Sirius could
have asked for political asylum wherever he wanted basically and it would most
likely be granted, so why hadn’t he? There was nothing holding him to the
isles. Except for me, he thought unbidden. The thought made him feel equally
guilty and happy.
 
       "I must admit Mr. Potter that I am a bit surprised to see you; most
young heirs like yourself don't come until their sixteenth or seventeenth name
day.” As he spoke he motioned for Harry and Sirius to sit. “So, what is it that
I can do for you?”
 
         Harry nodded and took the seat offered to him in front of the desk,
and looked to Sirius to answer his manager’s question. Sirius just looked at
him inquiringly. “What, this is your business. Tell him what you need and I’ll
help if you need it.” It wasn’t that Sirius wouldn’t help, he just wanted to
start teaching Harry how to handle his finances, and while he would be here to
help, the best way to learn was by doing.
 
       “Well, there are several issues that need to be dealt with, but before
we get into that – because I will forget otherwise – the teller outside said
that I need to speak with you about replacing my key, because I don’t have
mine.” Harry started to nervously tell the Chaosswiller his business, but as he
spoke his voice began to gain confidence.
 
       “Indeed. Knucklebreaker did make note of that,” the goblin said as he
looked over his clipboard of notes. “It won’t be a problem. It seems that you
had to update our record of your magical signature anyway, so it’s the best
time.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a slip of parchment and a black
quill, sliding them to Harry. “You’ll need to sign that, acknowledging the
destruction of your previous key and the mandatory fee.”
 
    “Careful Harry, that’s a blood quill,” Sirius spoke up suddenly. “It uses
your own blood as ink, it’ll sting a bit.”
 
     Harry nodded gratefully for the warning. The goblins really seemed to like
blood, but when he thought about it he wasn’t that surprised. Not only were the
goblins a war-like race, but it made sense. It was a magical form of bio-
metrics almost, and very hard to counterfeit. He wasn’t at all surprised by the
idea of paper work or signatures either; muggles were the same way, he just
hoped that he didn’t have a new scar by the end of it all.
 
       He skimmed over the paper without really reading it – nobody ever read
the contracts they signed – and scribbled his name in a loopy, elegant script.
He winced slightly as the quill dug into his flesh, but said nothing and handed
it back. “I was also told that you could help me to arrange a passport and
Portkey,” he continued. “I need to do some traveling with my Godfather over the
summer holiday.”
 
         “We can help with that as well,” Chaosswiller made another note on his
parchment. “That could, however, take some time. The portkey itself is a simple
matter, but the passport would have to be approved by your Ministry.”
 
        “I would be willing to pay for all of this of course,” Harry said
diplomatically. “Which brings me to my main point; I will need an asset audit
to officially assume control of my holdings. I don’t imagine the estate has
been very active since my parents’ deaths, and I’ve recently acquired new
holdings I’d like to look into.”
 
        Skodam looked at his young client critically and smiled, baring sharp
and ill-cared for teeth. He liked this one. “Indeed, it might be wise to
perform the audit first and then handle your travel plans,” he said in kind. He
reached into his desk again and pulled out a thick piece of parchment, only
instead of the typical tan color this one was snow white. “This is mana-paper,
we use it to conduct audits. It’s a very magically conductive. Our system
should be updated with your signature by now, simply touch it with your wand
and channel your magic into it, it will tell us what you can claim and give an
account of your total holdings.”
 
Harry nodded and took the parchment from his manager, holding it between his
fingers – to the shock of the goblin – and gently pushed his raw magic into it.
It glowed for a moment and he sat it down between them. When it stopped,
writing began to fill the page, with words of scorched black and the burning
orange stroke of embers in a graceful calligraphy:
 
                             Harrison James Potter
                                    Son of:
James Cadmus Potter (Father – Deceased – Blood Adoption)
Thanatos, God of Death (Father – Blessed Claim of Rite)
Unknown (Unknown - Biological)
Lillian Marie Potter (Mother – Deceased – Biological)
Sirius Orion Black – (Legal Guardian)
 
Blood Status – Pureblood Demi-God
Legal Status – Adult (State Recognition)
 
Estate Claims:
Lord of the House of Potter (Right of Blood – Paternal)
Lord of the House of Peverall (Divine Right of Blood – Paternal)
Lord of the House of Slytherin (Rite of Conquest)
Lord of the House of Grantham (Right of Blood – Maternal)
Heir Primus of the House of Black (Decree of the Lord of the House of Black)
 
Total Holdings and Assets:
Three Heretical Seats in the Wizengamot House of Lords –
o   House of Potter
o   House of Peverall
o   House of Slytherin
 
Stock/Company Holdings –
o   %24 The Daily Prophet
o   %35 Mr. Pulpeppers Apothecary
o   %60 Borgan & Buke’s Book Store
o   %51 Chuddly Cannons Quidditch Team
o   %48 The Leaky Cauldron
o   %25 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry
o   %52 Virgin Books
o   %7 Sanford Financial Group
o   %33.3 B.P.
Property Assets –
o   Knockturn Alley – London
o   Hogwarts Campus – Scotland
o   Godric’s Hollow – Levenham, Soffick
o   Potter Castle - Soffick
o   Potter Manor – Los Angeles, California
o   Peverall Place – Thessaloniki, Greece
o   Riddle Manor – Little Hangleton
o   Guant Cottage – Little Hangleton
o   Downton Abbey – London, England
 
Total Monetary Value: 500,000,000 Gallions
Approximate Value in British Pounds: 1.1 Billion
 
The first thing that Harry thought was what he would like to think that any
teenaged boy would think in that situation, Holy shit, I’m loaded! The second
most prominent thing that Harry saw was his unique parentage; Thanatos was no
surprise, he had expected that, but who was the unknown? “I swear to God, if
Snape is my father Thanatos can take me now!”
 
“Bloody Hell Pup,” Sirius exclaimed looking at Harry with wide, horrified eyes
as he fell into a choking fit. “That is not funny!” Laughter was interspersed
with the coughing fit contradicting his claim, but the scary thing was that
there was a minute possibility. Lily and Sirius had been friends for a time
after all. I wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that something had happened
between them in later years.
 
“Indeed,” Chaosswiller said more to himself then to his client. “It would take
powerful magic’s to mystify the enchantments of the mana-paper, perhaps your
divine parentage has something to do with it. There are many secrets in death
after all.” He had five ring boxes now, which he pushed across the desk to
Harry, bringing them back to topic. “These are your House signets. As Lord
Black would no doubt tell you, once you put them on, the magic of each will
judge you and officially mark you as an adult lord of the given estate, with
all the rights and responsibilities of that House.”
 
“Yes, about that, the parchment labeled my legal status as adult. How is that
possible?”
 
“I cannot say for certain without legal consultation, but it is a well-known
fact that you participated in the Tri-Wizard tournament. If I had to wager a
guess then I would say that was a factor.”
 
Harry thought it through from that perspective, and it did make sense. At
fourteen years old Harry had been entered into a binding contract with three
separate states, and judged fit to compete in a tournament meant for adult
wizards – declaring defacto Majority status. “If I may,” he asked accepting
this information, nodding toward the signet rings.
 
The ring boxes were glossed so that they shined in the light, and each had a
small label with leaf-script of the name of the House on it. When the
accountant nodded he leaned forward and took the first box to the left labeled
‘potter’, and opened it. The ring was white-gold with a smoothed calcite
dragon’s blood stone set into it. Etched into the stone and laced with silver
was a majestic stag, which surprised Harry, because he had been expecting
something predictable like a dragon, or a griffin, or god forbid, a lion. He
guessed that a stag was just as cliché given his dad’s animagus form, but he
had been expecting something Gryffindorish.
 
He slid the ring on his finger and it began to glow faintly. It expanded and
then contracted, fitting to his finger. A buzzing began in the back of his
mind, it felt like a tickle, curious and investigative as the magic of his
house touched him. As it grew it became heavier and more forceful, racing
through his mind and body. He felt as if he were being trampled, like someone
had placed a mountain on his shoulders, and like Atlas, he was expected to hold
it. It was too much! Stop fighting it,the voice of Thanatos came to him yet
again, smooth and firm yet endlessly patient. Remember how you claimed
Slytherin; let it flow, don’t fight it.
 
Harry did remember; he remembered getting lost in the sensation as the tides of
magic carried him, of never wanting it to end as the waves thundered in his
ears, and the feeling of peace and tranquility when it had. Thanatos was right,
he decided and stopped struggling against the stampede. When he did, it stopped
and Harry almost felt a sense of pride that wasn’t his but the Potter magic as
it finally accepted him and receded. He still felt it in the back of his head
just in reach, but it was idle. “Thank you Father,” he said quietly in
acknowledgement of Thanatos’s guidance.
 
He many have said it quietly, but both occupants of the office heard him and it
was Sirius who shot him the questioning look. “Father,” Sirius asked.
 
The hope behind the caution in his Godfather’s voice was palpable, and Harry
almost told him that it was as he’d hoped – that it was James Potter.
“Thanatos,” he said apologetically. He wondered if he should worry about his
Godfather, but then again Sirius really did have a crappy draw when it came to
his history: Betrayed by a friend, most of those you love dead and gone, and
thirteen years falsely imprisoned by your own government.
 
Something really needs to be done about that, he thought to himself.
Considering the facts, he did not hold out any great hope for a decisive action
against Tom. He wondered what he could do about that. He was no politician, but
it occurred to him that he could be with work. He was about to claim several
Houses with Wizengamot seats, and as people were so fond of pointing out he was
The-Boy-Who-Lived.
 
With his course set, Harry picked up the next box and opened it. This one
interested him the most, because it came from his maternal family – his
mother’s – and he wondered if his mom had ever claimed it. Like the Potter ring
it was stone-set, this time a Herkimer Diamond set, one of the largest he had
ever seen, with the Grantham Coat of Arms cut into it: A shield with a crown
resting atop it and the shield in two parts. The left side was simple enough, a
single bold stripe pointing up toward the crown at an acute angle, with three
dots that Harry assumed were meant to be stars. The right was divided into four
images; the top two were a lion reared on its hindquarters preparing to strike,
Harry recognized this image – as everyone should – it had been on the Royal
crest of Britain since the House of Stuart in 1707. The second quarter was two
crosses separated diagonally by a stripe. These were repeated in reverse order
in the third and fourth quarters.
 
He felt a certain sense of smug satisfaction as he slid this ring on. He
remembered what he had said to Tom in the graveyard at Little Hangleton about
being purer of blood then the other man. So he had unknowingly been right, that
would stick it to a few of his naysayers, he thought – Less than finding out
that he was the Lord of Slytherin, but it was entertaining.
 
The magic touched him wirily, like a child unsure of a new stranger and got
braver when he did not resist. He laughed out loud joyfully at the magic’s
playfulness, and explained when he got curious looks in return. “It’s very
playful, it feels very young and excited – happy.”
 
“That makes sense,” Chaosswiller conceded with a nod. “While House Grantham has
existed for several hundred years, it has been magical for less than two
hundred of those years.”
 
When it finally settled Harry took the Slytherin ring. This one was different
than the over two, because this one was actually in the form of a serpent,
resting on the pillow in the box, silver with deep green emeralds for eyes.
Harry thought that it looked just like the snake on the Hogwarts crest. “This
will be easy,” he said. After all, he had already claimed the House, this was a
formality. He reached out to take it and it moved out of his reach. “Who dares
claim me,” it hissed challengingly in what Harry knew was parseltongue.
 
“I am Harry James Potter, Son of Thanatos, Prince of Death and Lord of
Slytherin. You will submit.”
 
The words came to him much the way they had when Harry had claimed the Rite of
Conquest over Slytherin, and he didn’t fight it. It felt as if the little thing
was challenging him and he couldn’t back down. Its tiny tongue flicked out
against his finger, tasting him, sampling his magic, testing his claim.
“Master,” it finally submitted in acknowledgment. It slithered up his right
pointer finger and curled itself around the length. He gasped in shock and
surprise when it bared its fangs and buried them in his knuckle; they were so
tiny that it didn’t hurt, but he had not expected it. Its emerald eyes turned
blood red as it absorbed his blood before fading back to emerald again and
becoming inanimate.
 
“Well that was unexpected,” he said examining the ring close up now. “Cool
ring, but hopefully the last two are less eventful.” He doubted that; he knew
that one of the rings was the Peverall ring, which he knew were descended from
Thanatos, but he could be optimistic.
 
He picked it up and examined it as he had all of the others. The stone was
simple black hematite that shone in the light. Unsurprisingly, etched into the
stone was the mark of Thanatos similar to what had marked him, an equilateral
triangle with a line through the middle. He slide the ring on his right hand
opposite the Slytherin ring, next to the Potter ring and he felt the cold magic
of death overtake him, but unlike before the magic of his other houses reared
up angrily and lashed out against it. A blood curdling scream filled the room,
shocking them all, but before Harry could react knowledge flooded him as it had
in the graveyard, but he knew he would remember this. He knew that it wasn’t
just a ring, but a Hollow, given by Thanatos himself. The Resurrection stone
was a powerful necromantic object that the wielder could use to summon the
souls of the dead. He knew that there were two other objects, a wand crafted by
Thanatos himself, and Death’s own cloak, which Harry learned that he already
possessed in the form of the Potter invisibility cloak. He felt a faint
connection to them all, and he could feel the objects if he tugged on the
thread.
 
Harry took a minute and sat back in the chair, taking a deep breath. “Are you
alright Pup?” Sirius asked him, concern lacing his voice as he reached out to
grasp Harry’s shoulder. “We don’t have to do this all at once, we can stop for
now.”
 
“It’s alright,” Harry reassured the man, conceding his point. “It’s just a lot
to take in. The ring is a Hollow, the resurrection stone.”
 
The proclamation shocked them both, and Sirius looked at Harry disbelievingly.
“Pup, I know that you’ve been reading a lot this week, but the Hollow’s aren’t
real. They’re a fairytale from a children’s bedtime story.”
 
Harry raised an eyebrow in response to his Godfather; if there was only one
thing he’d learned in for years, it was that with magic nothing was impossible
just unimagined. “And two weeks ago I thought that the Gods were a fairytale
only to find out that I’m the son of one,” he argued the point. “The Hollows
exist, and this is one of them.” He thought it wise not to say that he was in
possession of a second in present company.
 
“Still, we have other stuff to do today, may as well get this out of the way.”
He took the last signet and looked at it; the Black heir signet, simple yet
elegant onyx with the image of a sword wrapped in ivy vines, and the swords
hilt was the image of a Grimm’s head. “Why,” he found himself asking Sirius.
“Why’d you choose me as the heir?”
 
“Who else would I choose?” Sirius asked him as if it were obvious, and to him
it was. “You’re my Godson, and I have no heirs. It was either you, or it passes
to Draco Malfoy. Besides, you’re claim is a Legitimate one. My great aunt Dorea
Black married your grandfather Charlus Potter, which makes us second cousins,
twice removed or some such ridiculousness. Malfoy’s claim while technically
greater is superseded by the choice of the Head of House – Me – under the
supremacy clause of inheritance law.”
 
It was a lot to take in, but Harry thought that he understood. Because Sirius
appointed him heir, as Head it overrode Draco’s legal claim. He smiled at
Sirius and slid the ring on. Being the heir ring and not a Head of House claim
he wasn’t expecting much. The magic enveloped him and it felt warm and
welcoming, protective like a wolf protecting its cub.
 
“Now that that has been taken care of I have your new Vault Key and Passport,”
Chaosswiller slid a gold vault key across the table. “I took the liberty of
advancing the process while you claimed your assets. If you’ll only sign the
forms authorizing the transfer.” He slid another couple of forms to Harry. “Now
that you’ve claimed your assets all you need to do is channel your magic into a
ring and press it to the bottom of the page.”
 
Harry looked at his signets and pressed the Peverall ring to the pages,
channeling magic into it, leaving a dark imprint of the Peverall crest behind.
Chaosswiller grinned and took them, giving Harry a leather covered passport and
a silver plated chain in return, which Harry secured around his neck. “To
activate the portkey simply say ‘Yankee Doodle’. It’s been a pleasure doing
business with you Lord Peverall, if there’s anything else Gringotts can do for
you…”
 
“No, thank you Skodam Chaosswiller. I look forward to doing very profitable
business with you in the coming days.”
 
Harry and Sirius quietly made their way out of Chaosswiller’s office before
Sirius spoke. “One last appointment before we can move on,” Sirius said as he
led Harry through the Hall. It was very clear that he knew where he was going.
Sensing the unspoken question from Harry, he elaborated. “I need to see the
Black account manager, I’ve arranged to meet my cousin Narcissa about some
business.”
 
Sirius did not say it and Harry had never met her, but he knew who Narcissa
was. “Are you sure that’s smart,” he asked. He had nothing against Narcissa
Malfoy personally, but the Malfoy’s were well known supporters of Tom, and with
the recent death of her husband, which he was sure she already knew about.
 
“Smart, maybe not, but practical – that’s another matter,” Sirius responded
enigmatically. Then he laughed and squeezed Harry’s shoulder reassuringly.
“Don’t you worry pup, there couldn’t be a better time for this and if I am
wrong them we’re safe as long as we are in Gringotts. Plus, if things do go
south we have the portkey.”
 
Harry thought about that and nodded, he really couldn’t argue that point. Any
farther conversation on the subject came to a halt when they reached the Black
Manager’s office. “Stonesnapper,” Sirius said cordially. “Thank you for the use
of your office in this personal matter.”
 
“Think nothing of it Lord Black,” the goblin said dryly. “The Blacks have
always been valued clients.”
 
He motioned them toward a conference table that had been set up to one side,
and there were two people sitting at it. They stood as Sirius and Harry
approached. Sirius nodded silently to the man that he assumed was the Malfoy
Barrister and greeted his cousin. “Narcissa,” he said shortly.
 
Narcissa nodded, responding in kind and the group sat down. To be fair to the
both of them it was hard to be friendly after years of estrangement. It did,
however, make the silence very awkward. “I’m Jeremy Bones Lord Black,” the
Barrister broke the silence to get them all on track. “I must admit that I was
extremely shocked when Ms. Malfoy came to me about your case, but with absurdly
little research I found no trial transcript, however, that could work in our
favor. What I would like from you, to that end, is your perspective of the
night in question.”
 
Harry had been expecting an affidavit, or a written statement of that night.
Instead, Mr. Bones pulled out a stone bowl that he recognized as a pensive like
the one that he had seen in Dumbledore’s office. Without prompting from Bones,
Sirius produced his wand and extracted the relevant memories, and deposited
them in the pensive. “Just a moment please,” Jeremy told them and leaned
forward to view the memories.
 
Meanwhile the other three occupants sat waiting awkwardly. “You look lovely Ms.
Malfoy,” Harry said after a moment, and it was true. Harry thought that she
looked beautiful; she was a very stately woman, who held herself with poise and
elegance. As strapless, flowing black dress that was very fitting for a woman
of her stature, and long silky black hair like Sirius’s, with streaks of
platinum blonde through her hair. “I’m very sorry about your husband.” Harry
wasn’t sure that it was a good idea, but he felt that he had to say it.
 
"Thank you Mr. Potter, you're very kind,” she smiled at him. “Truthfully,
Lucius was a good man, but I think it is I who should apologize to you.” Harry
wasn’t sure how true that was, but he wasn’t about to besmirch the man’s memory
in front of his wife. “I’ve heard much about you from my son.”
 
He actually laughed when she said that. “Likewise, Draco loves you very much,
though I dread to think what you have heard of me.”
 
"Indeed," she laughed in kind. "I always take his claims with some skepticism.
I believe a great deal of my son’s dislike stems from rejection. Sadly, he is
particularly spoiled and does not handle rejection well.” It was a well-veiled
jab at him, Harry admitted, but he would not take the bait. His reasons for not
making friends with Draco were his own. “His tales of your escapades at school
are particularly farfetched.”
 
"Well now that's interesting, because depending on what you were told that's
true enough."
 
He used the example of the Chamber of Secrets, and told her about how Tom had
used an old spell to release a basilisk and return himself to the living. He
was selective in his retelling, avoiding the fact that it was Lucius that had
brought a dark object into Hogwarts with the intent to possess a student. He
told her about how Lockhart was a fraud who had tried to curse them and how he
had ended up killing the beast to save said student. Narcissa looked at him
with wide disbelieving eyes. “I must say Mr. Potter, I am both horrified and
impressed. Wizards twice your senior would be found wanting.”
 
Any farther conversation was cut short when Mr. Bones emerged from the pensive.
“This is very good. It will go a long way it proving your innocence, but
getting a trial is the easy party, winning it with the majority of the
Wizengamot against you…”
 
“I might be able to help with that,” Harry interrupted with smug triumph. He
held up his right hand showing the Potter, Peverall and Slytherin Lordship
rings next to the Black Heir ring. “Despite what some will say I am not an
attention seeker, but I’m quickly learning that it is a weapon. Influence is
power and I’m willing to bet that they’ll listen to the Boy-Who Lived defend
Sirius Black.”
 
Jeremy Bones looked at Harry critically, considering the implications. “Indeed
Mr. Potter, and as the Black Heir you can act in Lord Blacks stead as Head of
House. I think we have a plan,” he said finally. He pulled out a briefcase and
slid a parchment to Sirius. “I need you to sign that, verifying that the
evidence you’ve provided is true and accurate to the best of your knowledge.”
When Sirius handed the parchment back Jeremy continued. “I’ll take a day to get
all this filed and set a trial date. We’ll continue from there; we may need Mr.
Potter to act in his capacity as a Wizengamot Lord. As Lord of three Noble
Houses he can initiate a Wizengamot Vote on his own.”
 
He closed his case and stood up with a respectful nod to the other three. "Lord
Peverall, Lord Black, Ms. Malfoy," he said according to their rank before
making his exit. "I'll be in touch."
 
The others stood in silence for a moment after he left, unsure of how to
proceed. “Harry and I still have some shopping to do before the end of the
day,” Sirius said finally. “You’re welcome to join us if you would like.”
 
“No thank you,” she declined with a polite nod. “I still have much to do before
retrieving Draco from the train in three hours, but it was a pleasure to meet
you Mr. Potter. I don’t imagine that this is the last we will see of one
another.”
 
“Indeed not,” Harry concurred and took her hand, kissing it daintily. “If
everything goes the way we hope we will be seeing much of each other in the
future. Knowing this, please give Draco my regards as well.”
 
Sirius turned to Harry with a deviously playful smirk after Narcissa was gone.
“Look at you Mr. Charmer,” He teased Harry. “Your dad would be impressed,
although I never took you as one for older women.” This made Harry blush madly,
because yes he found Narcissa attractive, he would freely admit to that, but he
didn’t see the way he behaved as flirting. Ms. Malfoy was an older woman of
class who was deserving of his respect, it was only fitting that he treat her
like a lady. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you, but what’s
gotten into you pup?”
 
Harry glanced at his Godfather and sighed when he saw the concern written on
his face; Sirius wasn’t talking about his actions with the Malfoy matriarch,
but rather his aggressive new interest in politics. “When I was in that
graveyard I made a vow,” he said low and firm, his voice dark. “I swore that I
would never be weak again, and in this world, in this day and age strength is
power and influence as much as it is Magical ability and prowess; and as I told
Mr. Bones, as much as I might not like to flaunt my position and fame it is a
political weapon. Look at Dumbledore, defeater of a Dark Lord in his own right
and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwamp.”
 
Sirius had to stop and think about that. As much as he hated to admit it Harry
was right. Dumbledore’s standing was a mix of all those facts, but what got him
those positions, and the reason Dumbledore was viewed as such a paragon was his
fame for his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindewauld. He had never liked politics,
but Harry was right, politics was a powerful weapon that he would need to
oppose Voldemort. “Still, be careful,” he warned. “The Muggles have a saying
that Power corrupts…”
 
"Oh you have no idea," Harry conceded, thinking about what he knew of Tom
Riddle. He had no intention of becoming anything like that man.
 
“I think that’s enough gloom for today,” Sirius declared decisively and look
his robe off, handing it to Harry. “Time to have some fun and waste some money
Mr. Billionaire.”
 
Harry smirked as he shrunk the robe and put it in his pocket. “You’re right,
there’s a few things that I want to get before we go to the states, not the
least of which is a new wardrobe for you.
 
“Hey!” Sirius barked in mock protest. “You’re one to talk!”
 
When Harry exited Gringotts with Snuffles at his side he greeted the sentinel’s
at the door on a whim. “Master Goblin,” he said politely to one while nodding
cordially to the other. He looked out ever the alley. “Where to first boy? I
need to get a new wand, stop by Flourish and Bott’s, and get a new trunk – my
old one has had it. The wand will probably take the longest.”
 
He remembered how long it had taken them to come to his phoenix feather wand,
and he was not hopeful of finding another match. He wondered briefly about
skipping it entirely; it wasn’t as if he needed it, but then again a wand would
still amplify his spell-work. Looking at Snuffles to decide, he laughed when
the dog nudged him and nosed his pocket. “Robes is it? Madam Malkin’s it is
then.”
 
Luckily the alley wasn’t particularly active today, and Harry hadn’t expected
it to be. That would make the excursion particularly fast-paced, and they made
a quick trek to Malkin’s. “How can I help you,” Madam Malkin’s familiar voice
greeted them and she brightened and smiled when she saw Harry. “Ah, Mr. Potter,
I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see you in person again. What can I
help you with? You’re rather early, didn’t take the train?”
 
“No I didn’t,” he confirmed, “And as to the matter of my rather long awaited
visit, to that end I have a rather large purchase to make.” He waited until she
pulled out a pad and quill before continuing. “As far as Wizards attires I need
six sets of casual robes, all in primary colors including Black and white, done
in linen and terrycloth. I’ll need two sets of formal robes, one in black, and
the other in emerald with gold border stitching, done in silk. I’ll need two
sets of dragon hide leather battle robes in black; and four sets of Wizengamot
Robes with these House crests on one each.” Here he showed her the three
Lordship rings with Wizengamot seats and the heir ring. She eyed them bug-eyed
for a moment before scribbling furiously.
 
“I’ll also need a range of muggle clothes for traveling, with the same
stipulations in color: Tee shirts, Shorts, jeans, cargo pants, underwear, and
socks, and sneakers. I’ll need to double that order too, to match these robes
measurements.” He pulled out the robes from his pocket and enlarged them,
handing them to her. “It’s my turn to shop for people,” he explained when she
looked at him questioningly.
 
“Well Mr. Potter, the muggle things will be easy enough. I can have an elf
collect them while I measure the robe and I think I still have recent
measurements for you from Molly Weasley, but the robes will take a day or two.”
 
That’s fine, you can have them shipped to Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill,
Farm Road 3.141 Long Island, New York 11954.”
 
“I can do that, but you know that there will be a shipping fee?”
 
"Just show me where to sign," he said inconsequentially.
 
Madam Malkin smiled at Harry before beginning to tabulate Harry’s purchases.
“Sandy,” she called absently while she worked. “Be a dear and collect Harry’s
things while I work.” She handed Harry the receipt that she had calculated.
Your total comes to ninety-four Galleons. If you’ll just press your ring to the
receipt to authorize the purchase, I can send it off to Gringotts for payment.”
 
With that done Harry made his exit, with his muggle clothes shrunken in his
pocket and made his way to Oliveander’s. The bell over the door rang and Harry
was assaulted by the smell of old wood and dust.”Mr. Potter, I was not
expecting you,” the old man said coming out of the stacks. Harry had to think
that there was an identification ward some kind on the door. “How can I help
you today, not a problem with your wand I hope?”
 
Harry had the decency to blush, even though Ollivander hadn’t accused him of
anything. “Well about that,” he said awkwardly. “I lost it in a dual,
completely destroyed it actually.” Ollivander gave him the eye and Harry got
defensive. “Hey it’s not my fault people are always trying to kill me! Anyway,
I’m going to need your help finding a new match, if we can.”
 
Ollivander sighed reluctantly; in all his years matching wizards and wands
Harry had been one of the most difficult. “I will do my best Mr. Potter, but
I’m not sure how much luck we will have.” The last time that he had matched
Harry they had gone through every wand in his shop, but – ever the optimist –
Ollivander squared his shoulders and set to work. They spent what felt like
hours going through every wand in the shop, one after the other without a
match, both becoming frustrated. “We may have to craft a custom wand Mr.
Potter, but I warn you, that will be costly.
 
“An excellent idea Garrick,” a voice said from behind them surprising the
three, causing them to look back toward the entrance and the source. An olive
skinned figure stood in the door in a purple robe and jet-black wings folded
tightly at his back. “I may be able to help with that.”
 
“My Lord Thanatos!” Ollivander said in a voice filled with shock, wonder, and
fear. Having the God of Death openly grace his establishment was an honor, but
it was terrifying. If there was one god you never wanted to see it was Death.
 
Adversely, the sight of the primordial God made Harry smile from ear to ear.
“Father,” he said happily.
 
“Hello Harrison,” Thanatos said kindly as he stepped farther into the shop.
“Garrick is correct; you will need a custom focus, but nothing Garrick
possesses will fit and given your heritage a feather from the Phoenix Fawlks
will no longer suit you.” He pulled a length of wood from his robe and handed
it off to Ollivander. “Sambucus wood from a tree at the banks of the
Phlegethon. A feather from the wing of death as the core.” Here he pulled a
feather from his own wing for the man. “And the last must come from my son
himself.” Harry looked at him lost, not understanding. “There can be no death
without life little one, all things in balance.”
 
“I believe I understand Mr. Potter,” Ollivander said as he worked. “Life
balances Death Mr. Potter and the essence of life is…”
 
“Blood,” Harry finished. He thought once again about Tom’s resurrection and how
much of magic centered on blood. “I understand,” he consented and turned to
Ollivander. “If you would sir? What I don’t understand is that if blood is
life, then why does the Ministry call it a dark art?”
 
Ollivander fired a low-powered cutting curse at Harry's palm, holding it over
the feather and letting the blood drip over it as Thanatos answered Harry.
“Fear – Mortals fear what they do not understand; and Hubris, wizards
especially who believe that they know the nature of the Universe more than the
Gods who created it.”
 
“That should do Mr. Potter,” Ollivander said surprising Harry as he handed
Harry a plain, sleek, black wand that seemed to absorb the light around it.
Harry had expected a wand crafting to be a longer process, but as with most
magic it appeared that he had underestimated it. “A Powerful and temperamental
wand suited for Battle and Death magic’s.”
 
Harry thanked the old man and took the wand. When the wand met his hand a cold
wind blew through the room and a mist seemed to roll from the tip of the wand.
“What do I owe you?”
 
“It’s on the house Mr. Potter,” Ollivander said. “I can scarcely take money
from a gift from the Gods. Besides, the materials did not come from me.”
 
Harry looked at the old Wand maker, but he was not about to argue the point.
“Thank you sir, can I get a holster as well? I have no desire to lose this
wand.”
 
“Of course Mr. Potter: wrist, waist, or thigh?”
 
“Right thigh, I think.” He paid for his purchase. He thanked the wand maker
again as he strapped the holster to his thigh and secured his wand, before
turning to Thanatos. “Goodbye father.”
 
“Goodbye Harry, I will be watching…”
 
Both men watched as Harry and Snuffles made their exit into the street.
“Forgive me My Lord, but such an artifact…”
 
“No Gerrick, there will never be another Wand of Destiny and Harrison’s blood
ensures that no one but he will ever wield that wand,” he alleviated the wand
maker’s fears.
 
Meanwhile Harry and Snuffles made quick work of the rest of their shopping.
Harry bought a new seven compartment trunk, and paid the extra for the
resettable password charm. When he went to the book store he’d have put
Hermione to shame. Along with books on politics, the Wizengamot and the ancient
Houses he bought books on the genealogy of his Houses. He also bought advanced
books on all of his core subjects, and because it peaked his interest a
Beginners guide to warding. All told, all of his books ran three hundred and
fifty Galleons.
 
Leaving the book store Harry ducked into the shadows between the buildings.
“Come on,” he whispered to his godfather who chased him between the building,
transforming out of his animagus form mid stride.
 
“Ready,” he said a little winded, coming to a stop in front of Harry.
 
“Hold on tight then.” When Sirius gripped his shoulder tightly Harry grabbed
the silver chain for good measure and gripped Sirius tightly with the other
hand, and screwed his eyes shut. “Yankee Doodle!”
Chapter End Notes
     And there be Chapter the 3rd for all you Lovely people. A lot going
     on again. Shorter than the last but still longer than expected.
     Though in truth it could have been much longer as I wanted to add a
     whole other scene, but decided to hold off one chapter.
     Because Harry is now officially off to America, - and I never thought
     I’d say that as I hate Harry-Goes-To-America stories, but I think
     I’ve got a bit of an original twist for it – we now have a 5 hour
     time difference (More depending on where in the country the
     Characters are at a given time), more than enough time to play with.
     I know a lot of you probably don’t like all the political
     foreshadowing but there is a few things about that. 1) I am studying
     law so I can’t help myself. And 2) Like it or not, as Harry said, in
     this day and age Politics is power. It’s a fact of life. It’s how you
     move and shape the world, and I don’t do Fluff pieces. I don’t do
     Filler chapters, if something is in my fic, there is a reason for it,
     even if it’s not apparent at the time
     I know that the monetary value is off, but I am NOT doing the math
     and the HP Lexicon’s currency converter doesn’t work, but as DZ2 says
     – It’s Fanfiction, and I probably under-shot it anyway. Also, no I
     did not include Magical inheritances or ability status. Harry could
     more than likely pay to do that, but overall Gringotts is a Bank
     Those who want to complain about the names go on, I accept all
     feedback after all, but I like Harrison and Lillian over “Harry and
     Lily”. The same with James middle name, plus it works to illustrate
     his connection to the Peveralls’.
     Yes I completely took mana-paper from something else. 5 points if you
     can tell me where.
     If I remember correctly I think it’s true that Harry never got his
     vault key back from Molly. I don’t know if this was an oversight on
     JK’s part, or if it was just assumed and unstated that it was
     returned.
     I know that some people will ardently disagree with the shopping, but
     every fanfiction needs one good shopping spree
     Upon doing some research into the timetable, a Hogwarts school year
     runs about the same as a normal British academic year. That means
     that it starts on the 1st of September and runs to the end of the
     second or 3rd week of July.
     This gives British students about a 6 week summer vacation period.
     This differs from the Americans who Start in early August and end in
     late May, giving them Roughly 2 months off.
     As always, Questions, Comments, Speculation, Criticism's and Flames
     are all welcome.
     Till Next Time Lovelies!
End Notes
     End Notes:
     Okay, so that is the end of chapter 1. Hopefully, you too will be out
     soon, but I make no promises about at the speed. I do however use
     Dragon dictation software, which is very good and very fast. So with
     any luck it will be out quickly enough.
     Again, feel free to review and comment about anything and everything,
     I read and try and respond to them all because I know I hate it when
     I review and authors don't answer. It should be fairly obvious, but
     bonus points to anyone who can tell me who Luna’s God parent is, and/
     or what the power Harry used in the graveyard was (Don’t look it up!
     Lol)
     Until Next time Lovelies
     Boob squeeze!
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