Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6199150.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Hermione_Granger, Assorted_Weasleys, Albus
      Dumbledore, Remus_Lupin, Order_Members, Hogwarts_Students, Draco_Malfoy,
      Lucius_Malfoy, Narcissa_Malfoy, Lord_Voldemort_|_Tom_Marvolo_Riddle
  Additional Tags:
      Arranged_Marriage, Marriage_Contracts, Forced_Marriage, Pureblood
      Politics, Manipulative_Dumbledore, Dumbledore_Bashing, Selective_Weasley
      Bashing, mindscape, Occlumency, Powerful_Harry, Intelligent_Harry, Chan
      16+, snarry, Child_Abuse, Past_Child_Abuse, Work_In_Progress, Tags_May
      Change, Mild_Angst, Increasingly_Dark...ish_Harry
  Series:
      Part 6 of W.I.P._Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-08 Updated: 2017-09-28 Chapters: 9/? Words: 76785
****** The Power of a Well-Organized Mind ******
by FalconLux
Summary
     Trying to deal with his grief after losing Sirius, Harry makes an
     effort to “clear his mind” before going to bed. It works this time,
     and Harry discovers that his supposed Power isn’t love at all. He
     soon finds that his trust has not always been well placed. His
     choices for taking control of his life may be fewer than he'd hoped.
     WARNING: This is a W.I.P. It is not finished. It may never be
     completed. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Notes
     DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from
     this or any other work of fanfiction.
***** Know Thyself *****
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 1
                                 Know Thyself
1 July 1996 - Monday
Harry eased himself into his bed on his side, mindful of the terribly tender
skin stretched taut across his back.  He’d been sunburned a week ago.  Now, he
was covered in blisters.  It was painful enough that he’d have been weeping in
agony if he hadn’t been too numb to care.  He accepted the pain as his
penance.  Sirius had died because he’d been a stupid, impetuous, spoiled little
brat.  He’d spent an entire year sulking because Dumbledore ignored him. 
Because no one would tell him what was happening.  Because he was being taught
Occlumency by his worst enemy.
Ha! He mentally sneered at his own melodrama.  It had all seemed so awful at
the time.  So tragic.  It had been so easy to feel sorry for himself.  So easy
to conclude that he was beyond reach of any adult who actually cared about him
– namely Sirius.  Umbridge and her insanity hadn’t helped, but that wasn’t any
kind of excuse either.  He’d wrapped himself in his Gryffindor pride and tried
to face her down head-on when she’d held every advantage.
He sighed heavily and tried to organize his drifting thoughts.  Dumbledore had
been unwilling to speak with him, but he should have gone to McGonagall.  If
she had resisted, he should have madeher listen.  He should have explained his
problems with Snape.  At the very least, he could have gotten someone to
chaperone his lessons.  Someone from the Order.
He should have worked harder at the lessons.  He should have actually tried
instead of thinking himself smarter than Dumbledore.  He should have sucked up
his forsaken pride and kissed Snape’s bootsif that had been what it took to get
a decent lesson out of the man.  His professor regularly looked Voldemort in
the eye and lied, for Merlin’s sake.  He should have at least tried to learn
from him.
Even if Snape was a completely unmitigated arse, that did not excuse Harry’s
own weakness in stooping to that same level.
“Well, it won’t happen again,” he vowed into the darkness, as he’d done at
least once every single night since Sirius had died.  This next year was going
to be different.  He wasn’t a little kid anymore.  He was almost sixteen years
old.  And he was Harry Potter.  By all rights, he should have grown up a long
time ago.  Too many people depended on him.  Sirius was dead because of him. 
Five of his best friends had almost been killed because of him.
Not this year.  This year, Harry Potter was going to Hogwarts as an adult.  He
would hold his ruddy temper.  He would turn the other cheek to Snape’s worst
insults, even if he started laying into Harry’s parents…
He chuckled humorlessly.  Snape had every right to hate James Potter.  Harry
would never again attempt to defend the man.  Not to Professor Snape.  That was
a man who had earned the right to every deplorable comment he could think up. 
As painful as it was to make the comparison, expecting Snape to think kindly of
James Potter would be like asking Harry to think kindly of Dudley.  Not in this
lifetime.
With a small sigh, Harry pushed those thoughts from his mind, and sent all
others after them.  He cleared his mind, as Snape had always pressed him to
do.  As he never had when it might have saved Sirius’ life.
It took a long time, but Harry finally felt himself pull free from the grief,
guilt, and self-flagellation that occupied his waking hours.  Drifting in a
haze of blessed silence, his weary body soon surrendered to exhaustion.
===============================================================================
 
Harry opened his eyes and blinked against the bright light.  He squinted as he
sat up, alarmed to realize that he wasn’t at the Dursleys’.  He also realized
that he wasn’t in pain.
And then he recognized his surroundings.  He was at Hogwarts, on the grounds
near the lake where he and Ron and Hermione usually sat and studied when the
weather was nice.
He slowly got to his feet, and tried to figure out how he’d gotten here.
After a long minute of remembering nothing except going to sleep in pain at the
Dursleys, he cautiously started walking toward the castle.  There had to be
someone in there who could tell him how he’d gotten here.
He barely stepped through the main doors of the castle when a flash of movement
had him drawing his wand and pointing it at…
Himself.
For a moment, he thought it was a mirror, but… no.  This boy looked almost
identical to him, but there were small differences.  For one thing, he was
wearing a Hufflepuff uniform.  The other boy smiled warmly at him.  “Hello,
Harry.”
“Who are you?” Harry demanded.
“I’m you,” the other boy chuckled slightly.  “Or rather, I am an Aspect of
you.  Specifically, I am your capacity for Loyalty.”
Harry blinked, stared, realized his jaw was hanging open, and closed it.  Then
stared some more.  “What the hell?”
The boy smiled a little wider, but it was a commiserating smile, not a mocking
one.  “You’re a little confused right now.  That’s to be expected.  It might
help if I told you that you’re not at Hogwarts.  You’re still at the
Dursleys’.  Asleep.”
“This is a dream…?” Harry ventured.
“Sort of,” the boy shrugged.  “This place is a metaphysical representation of
your mind.  The good and the bad.  The light and the dark.  Happiness and
sadness.  Hopes.  Fears.  Memories.  And, of course, the aspects of your
personality.  We all exist here.”
Harry stared for a long time, trying to process the odds on whether he’d gone
insane, was having a really weird dream, or if this was some kind of trick by
Voldemort.
“Don’t believe me?” the boy offered.  “I can prove it.  Or rather, you can. 
This is your mind.  Here, you are God.  Try doing something impossible and see
if it works.”
After staring for a little longer, Harry decided to give it a try.  If this was
his mind, then he should be able to do anything.  Like… fly without a broom.
He’d barely had the thought before he found himself floating a meter above the
floor, staring wide-eyed down into the smiling eyes of… part of himself?
He quickly thought about being on the ground again and he was.
“Satisfied?”
Harry nodded uneasily.
“Great!  Do you have any more questions?”
“Um…  You’re… my loyalty?”
“Yep,” the boy grinned.
“That’s why you’re in Hufflepuff robes?”
He shrugged.  “This is yourmind, Harry.  I am as you view me, even if you
hadn’t ever actually imagined what the loyalty aspect of your personality would
look like if given form.  You see yourself as a loyal person, which is why I
look like you.  Clearly, you also recognize that it’s a Hufflepuff trait. 
Hence my wardrobe.”
Harry nodded slowly and gradually lowered his wand.  That did kind of make
sense.  “You said there were others?”
“Of course,” Loyalty grinned.  “You’re far from a one-dimensional person,
Harry.  There are many Aspects here.  Would you like to meet some of them?”
Harry nodded warily.
“Follow me,” Loyalty offered warmly.
Harry slowly took up with the other boy as they left the Entrance Hall and
moved further into the castle.  “Why can’t I just bring them all to me instead
of going to them?” Harry wondered.  “I should be able to do that right?  Since
this is my mind?”
Loyalty shrugged.  “Yes and no.  Of your impression of yourself,” he gestured
to Harry’s person, “you can do almost anything.  As for the rest of this
place…  There are some limits.  Self-imposed limits, of course.  First of all,
you can’t do anything that you don’t believe you can do.  Secondly, you can’t
do anything that you don’t know how to do.  Third, you can’t control anything
that you don’t understand.
“Me, for instance, you both understand and embrace.  You’re a loyal person and
proud of it.  That’s not true for every aspect of your personality.  Until
you’ve come to understand and accept every aspect, you will have very little
control over them.  In this place, there are suppressed urges, forgotten
memories, repressed fears, lost hopes, nightmares and fantasies… everything
that is who you are.  With practice, you can lock it away, bring it to light,
heal what’s hurt, fix what’s broken…” he shrugged.  “It’s all you.  With time
and dedication, you could gain absolute control of this place.  You don’t have
that yet.”
Harry nodded slowly, and asked hesitantly.  “Where are we?  This… doesn’t look
like Hogwarts.  I mean, it does, but…  It doesn’t.”
“It’s not,” Loyalty smiled gently.  “Hogwarts is the only home you’ve ever
had.  That’s where the similarities come from.  But your life doesn’t revolve
around Hogwarts, no matter how much you may wish that it did.  This place
reflects all of you.  Ah, here we are.  The library.”
Harry blinked as he realized that they were standing in front of the doors to
the Hogwarts library, though he was certain that they’d not left the ground
floor.  Then Loyalty pushed open the doors and Harry blinked again when he
found himself looking into a room that was notthe Hogwarts library.  In fact… 
It was the library from Harry’s primary school.
“What…?” he asked in bewilderment.
“This is where Knowledge lives,” Loyalty offered.  “Come on.”
Harry hesitantly followed the other boy into the little library.  “Why would
the Knowledge aspect of my personality be in a primary school library?” Harry
asked uneasily.
“When was the last time you embraced your thirst for knowledge, Harry?” Loyalty
asked conversationally as he stopped in the back corner of the little library.
Harry’s eyes widened.  “Um…” 
A small whimper drew his attention to the table in front of him and he
swallowed hard before cautiously crouching next to it.  His breath caught when
his eyes met those of a small, frightened boy in tattered, oversized clothes. 
He was about seven years old, huddled under the table like he was trying to
hide and looking quite frightened at being found. 
“Hello,” Loyalty smiled at the small, green-eyed boy as he knelt at Harry’s
side.  “How are you today, Knowledge?”
“F-fine,” the boy said, barely loud enough to be heard.
“Why does he look like that?” Harry breathed in horror.
Loyalty turned compassionate eyes on him.  “You’ve been repressing him since
you were seven, Harry.  You taught yourself to ignore him.  It was then that he
stopped developing.  What you see is the state at which this Aspect was when
you locked him away in here.  Of course, you do still touch on him
occasionally, but you’ve never embraced him enough for him to mature or
evolve.”
Harry felt vaguely sick.  He felt like he’d been neglecting this Aspect the way
the Dursleys had neglected him.  And that wasn’t even taking into account what
this must mean for the state of his mind.  How many more Aspects were in a
state like this?  “It’s okay,” Harry said cautiously.  “You can… you can come
out of there.”
The boy just whimpered and crouched back further when Harry offered him a
hand.  Harry looked at Loyalty in helpless appeal.
Loyalty gave him a small, sad smile.  “You have to mean it, Harry.  You can’t
just want to help him.  You have to be willing to accept him.”
Harry swallowed hard and his stomach turned despite the fact that he shouldn’t
really havea stomach, being in his mind and all.  He closed his eyes and tried
to remember the moment at which he’d started shunning any desire to learn.  He
had been seven.  He’d gotten into the spelling bee at school, and he’d been so
proud.  He’d thought for sure that the Dursleys would see that he wasn’t
worthless.  Only, when he’d gotten home and told them…  He winced as he
remembered the weight of Vernon’s belt slamming against his back, over and over
again while his uncle told him how stupid and worthless he was, accused him of
cheating to make Dudley look bad, and only hit harder when Harry tried to argue
his innocence.  It was that night, weeping in his cupboard, that he’d decided
he was never going to learn anything again.  And however absurd that idea was,
he’d meant it with complete conviction at the time.
Even now, it was so hardto convince himself that he didn’t have to believe that
anymore.  Even knowinghow pathetic it was to be determined to do the impossible
in ceasing to learn anything, he still felt fear, bitterness, and he could
almost feel the leather striking his back.
“I’m not helpless,” he whispered fiercely, summoning the courage he’d used to
face Voldemort four out of the last five years.  If he could face that, he
could bloody well face this!
When he opened his eyes again, he had to wipe tears off his face, but the
little boy under the table was giving him a hesitant smile.  Harry returned it
tremulously and offered his hand again.  The boy took it this time, and allowed
himself to be drawn out from under the table.
“Why is he still so small?” Harry asked quietly.
“I won’t grow up overnight.”  To his surprise, it was Knowledge who answered. 
He sounded shy, but at least he was talking now.  “This is a start, but you
have to keep believing if I’m going to grow.”
“You called, boss?”
Harry spun around at the new voice and found himself gaping at the figure that
had entered the library behind him.  It was a man of about thirty or thirty-
five wearing auror robes.  He had a wand in his right hand and the sword of
Gryffindor in the other.  His black hair was trimmed short and neat.  He had a
close-cut goatee and did not wear glasses over his bright green eyes.
“Who…?” Harry breathed.
“Courage, at your service,” the man saluted quickly.
Harry’s eyes widened as he looked the man over again.  He looked like him, but
grown up, filled out, and somehow dangerous in a way that had nothing to do
with the wand, the sword, or the robes.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll head back to the perimeter.”
“O…okay,” Harry huffed incredulously.
With one more hasty salute, the man vanished.
“Okay…  So.  If Knowledge stopped developing at seven, how did Courage end up…
like that?” Harry wondered.
“Well, he’s had plenty of chance to develop, hasn’t he?” Loyalty smiled.  “He’s
healthy and nurtured, and your personal interpretation of Courage Personified. 
He can also be a little suicidal, so I wouldn’t suggest taking his advice at
face value.”
Harry huffed a small, breathless laugh and nodded.  After the Department of
Mysteries, Harry strongly agreed with that sentiment.  He’d been surviving on
courage alone for too long, and Sirius hadn’t been as lucky this time.
“Well, shall we move on?” Loyalty suggested.
Harry nodded uneasily, glancing at Knowledge again as he wondered what else
he’d find here.
“Don’t worry about me,” Knowledge smiled shyly.  “I think I’ll just stay here
and do some organizing.”
It wasn’t until he mentioned it that Harry realized the place was a God awful
mess.  Books were scattered over most of the floor with just a clear path
between the back table and the door.  Some of the books looked to have been
shredded.  Haphazard piles of books and scrolls and torn pages lay everywhere.
“Do you… do you need some help?” Harry asked uncertainly.  It seemed terribly
rude to make Knowledge clean this place up when it was Harry’s neglect that had
let it get like this.
Knowledge smiled a little and looked around.  “Nah.  Just keep wantingto know,
and I’ll be all right.”
Harry nodded hesitantly and slowly followed Loyalty’s urging back out of the
library.
“How you doing?” Loyalty asked sympathetically.
“I’m starting to think that I really might be insane,” Harry admitted.  “Even
if all of this is really my mind… that might just confirm it.”
Loyalty sighed and slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder.  “Well, I’m not really
qualified to judge – a bit biased, you know?  I will say, however, that this is
all a work in progress.  You’ve already made a ton of progress with Knowledge. 
Try not to think of this as a testament to your sanity, but an opportunity to
improve.  That wasyour goal for this coming year, right?  To be better?  To
grow up and stop being childish?”
Harry nodded slowly.
“Well, this is your chance,” Loyalty pointed out.  “From here, if you are
willing to face the truth, and stop hiding from who you are and what you’ve
been through, you can heal a lot of wounds you probably don’t even realize that
you have.”
Harry smiled a little and looked at the boy who looked so much like him. 
“Huh.  I’m a pretty good friend, huh?”
Loyalty grinned at that.  “You see?  There are positives to see here as well.”
They walked for a little while in silence before they were stopped by a stunner
zinging across their path right in front of Harry’s nose.
“Who goes there?” a nervous, slightly hysterical voice called from a doorway
that led up a flight of stairs.
“It’s me, Loyalty.  Don’t shoot!” Loyalty grinned.
“What… Who is that?” Harry asked uneasily.
“Paranoia,” Loyalty said sheepishly.
“How do I know that you’re you and not someone else made to look like you?!”
Paranoia shouted down the stairs.
“We should probably… come back later,” Loyalty suggested, ushering them
carefully passed the stairway.
Harry shuddered slightly.  His paranoid aspect sounded barmy.  Then again, he
supposed that he had reason to have a pretty strong streak of paranoia.
A few corridors later, Harry paused at the sound of bright, happy laughter. 
Relieved at something in this place that seemed so cheerful, Harry hurried over
to the nearest window and blinked when he found himself looking out at the
Quidditch pitch.  Not over the grounds at the pitch, but as though the pitch
was built into a courtyard right there.
A flash of movement drew his eyes up to where a small boy was zipping around on
a racing broom, laughing at the top of his lungs and doing crazy stunts.
“Who’s that?” Harry breathed.
“Playfulness,” Loyalty smiled as he joined him at the window.
Harry sighed as the boy zoomed down to the window and stopped to greet them. 
He looked like Harry had at the beginning of his first year.  Had it really
been that long since he’d truly embraced playfulness?
“Pull my finger.”
Harry blinked and looked at the boy who was trying hard not to smirk.
“Go ahead,” he said with overdone innocence.  “Nothing’s going to happen.  Just
pull on it.”
Harry looked warily at Loyalty, who was smiling warmly at the boy.
“Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it!” the boy chanted.
Harry grimaced, but pulled the finger.  And stumbled back when it came off in
his hand.
The boy laughed uproariously as he wiggled his real finger out from the sleeve
of his robe.  “If you could see your face!” he laughed breathlessly.
“Let’s move on,” Loyalty suggested with an amused smile.  “I don’t think
there’s much you can do here right now.”
They continued walking down the corridors that could have come right out of
Hogwarts and yet didn’t line up the way they should.
Harry didn’t know how long they walked before they came around a corner and
Harry froze at the sight of another adult version of himself.  This one was
wearing plain black battle robes.  His hair was long, tied back at his neck,
and his face was grave.  He was holding a wand and facing a black door that
looked to have been blasted to pieces, then put back together.  It was held in
one piece with everything from chewing gum and spell-o-tape to randomly sized
planks and nails that looked to have been repurposed based on the unusual
shapes and colors.  Some of the cracks and holes were stuffed with nothing more
than a dirty sock or a ratty towel.  His threadbare baby blanket was stuffed in
the crack under the door.
“Hello, Will,” Loyalty greeted.
“Loyalty,” Will nodding without looking away from the door.
“What is that door?” Harry asked uneasily.
“Evil,” Will replied flatly.
Harry gulped.  “There’s… evil i-in my mind?  That’s my evil side in there?” he
asked with growing panic.
Loyalty put a soothing hand on his shoulder.  “Relax, Harry.  That’s not an
Aspect.  That is a demon.”
Harry hardly felt any better.  “There’s a demonin my mind?”
“Yes,” Will answered quietly.
“How…  What…  Why…  What the hell is a demon doing in my mind?  Is it a
realdemon?  Or like, a collection of bad dreams, or…”
“It is there,” Will turned away from the door for the first time, lifting a
hand to point at Harry’s head.
…no.  Not his head.  His scar.
Harry’s hand flew to his mouth as he fought the urge to be sick.  “Voldemort
left that in me, didn’t he?”
Will’s head snapped back toward the door and Harry realized that there was an
inky blackness seeping through some small cracks in the door.  It looked
disturbingly like that blackness that had come out of the diary when he’d
stabbed it with the basilisk fang.
Will’s wand was up in an instant and a brilliant green beam of light shot out
of it.  It hit the blackness and there was a faint scream from behind the door
as the tendril was destroyed under the green light.
“What…  What just happened?” Harry gasped.
“The demon tries to get in.  Always.  I have been fighting it since it arrived,
but it has grown stronger.  Sometimes, it got out,” Will said gravely without
looking away from the door.  “He caused a lot of damage when he got in here
completely.  When he possessed you.  When Loyalty and I forced him out that
time, he was badly weakened.  I was able to make repairs to the door at last,
but he’s getting stronger again.”
Breathing unevenly, Harry sat down on a chair that was behind him as soon as it
occurred to him to sit, and he buried his face in his hands.
“That’s my connection to Voldemort,” he groaned into his palms. 
“It is,” Loyalty said quietly.  “But Harry…”
Harry looked up when Loyalty paused.
The Aspect gave him an encouraging smile.  “Remember, you can fix things here.”
Harry blinked, then looked at the door again.  “I can fix that?”
Loyalty nodded.
“There’s no way to… get rid of… the demon, is there?”
“Perhaps,” Loyalty shrugged.  “We don’t know.”
“Okay.  How do I fix the door then?”
“Will is guarding it, and keeping the demon at bay,” Loyalty explained.  “But
he would need help to seal it.  You, Harry, are all of us combined.  Like
Knowledge, however, some Aspects do not have the strength they could. 
Strengthen them, free them from where they are bound, and you will have the
power to make that door impregnable.”
Harry nodded determinedly, and looked at Will again.  Just by looking at him,
it was obvious that he was one of Harry’s strongest Aspects.  That wasn’t
really surprising.  He’d not have survived without a powerful will.  No wonder
he could resist the Imperius Curse.
“Who else will I need for this?” Harry asked.
Loyalty shrugged, “Well, you’ll be strongest when you’ve accepted and empowered
everyAspect, but the most important for this would be…”  He looked thoughtful
for a minute.  “Cunning, Ambition, Logic, Knowledge, Protectiveness, Pride, and
probably Paranoia, too.”
Harry blinked.  That was more than he’d expected, but he supposed it made
sense.  Ambition to do it and do it right, Cunning, Knowledge, and Logic
together to figure out the best way, Protectiveness because it was all about
protecting him from that thing, Pride to believe that he could do it, and
Paranoia to anticipate every possible weakness.  “Okay.  Who’s closest?”
Harry’s day – night? – just got more bizarre and traumatizing from that point
on.
Cunning and Ambition turned out to be the closest.  To Harry’s horror, he found
them both in his mental recreation of the Slytherin common room that he’d seen
briefly in his second year.  Both were bound wrist and ankle in irons that were
driven into the floor in the center of the common room, the length clearly not
enough for them to leave.  Ever.  When he and Loyalty entered, they found the
pair – both appearing about eleven and dressed in Slytherin robes – sitting on
one of the sofas having what seemed to be a philosophical debate.
Harry groaned at the sight of more apparently repressed Aspects.  “How long
have you two been locked up in here?” he asked uneasily.
Cunning quirked an eyebrow – disturbingly reminiscent of Snape – and lazily
drawled, “Since you found out that we were both ‘Slytherin traits’.”
“Not for lack of trying to escape,” Ambition added stonily, lifting his wrists,
both of which were worn bloody from where the cuffs had rubbed as he’d
apparently strained against them.
Well, they weren’t in as bad a shape as Knowledge, Harry recognized.  These two
were bound, but their spirits had evidently survived fairly intact.  It wasn’t
as though he never used his cunning or felt ambition.  He just ignored them
most of the time except in circumstances that he felt warranted them.
Harry ran a hand heavily through his hair as he felt nauseous again.  Truly,
there was no more blatant way to have his own stupidity shoved in his face than
with visual evidence like this.  Ever since starting Hogwarts, Harry had been
prejudiced against the aspects of himself that were Slytherin.  And he knew
exactly why he’d been so harsh with himself.  The Sorting Hat had wanted him in
Slytherin.  Deep down, he had been a Slytherin, but he’d refused to admit it. 
He’d forced himself to be a Gryffindor, even if it meant training himself to
ignore parts of himself.
Not only did it feel profoundly wrongnow that he was looking at Ambition’s
chafed wrists and the scars on Cunning’s cuffs and chains that suggested he’d
tried many, many times to find ways to remove them.
Maybe it was Harry’s right to decide which parts of himself to embrace, but he
realized now that he’d been doing it for really pathetic reasons.  It was
childish and he could not afford to be childish any longer.  If he was going to
survive, much less have any chance of defeating Voldemort, he absolutely had to
embrace his every advantage. 
And really, if he didn’t let himself think about how it made him a Slytherin,
he could hardly think that ambition or cunning were “bad” or in any way “evil”
traits to have.  If he’d had any ambition, maybe he’d have tried to actually
learn something at Hogwarts instead of treating it like his primary school and
just drifting through it.  And there was a slight chance – wince for the
understatement – that facing some of his considerable difficulties with cunning
rather than slamming headfirst into all of them with nothing cut courage and
will might have been a good idea here and there.
The sound of iron hitting the floor drew his attention to the fact that
Ambition and Cunning had just been freed of their bonds.  They were now
exchanging somewhat malign grins of satisfaction.  Those looks made Harry a bit
uneasy, but he refused to ever stymie himself by suppressing useful Aspects
again.  He wouldn’t.  He could avoid completely giving himself over to those
Aspects without pretending they didn’t exist – mentally chaining them in the
dungeons where he’d apparently felt they belonged.
“Um…  Look,” Harry said uneasily, uncertain if they wouldn’t be holding a
grudge against him for locking them up for so long, “Do you two think you could
go hang out with Will for a little while.  I need your help to repair the door
keeping Voldemort out, but I have a few other Aspects to pick up first.”
They both looked very pleased by that as they started away.
Harry looked after them uneasily before looking at Loyalty again.  “I really
wish the two of them were stronger.  Do you think they’ll really be able to
help?”
Loyalty shrugged.  “Well, they’re not reallyeleven, remember.  That’s how old
you were when you started repressing them, but they have been around since
then, just like Knowledge has.  You’ve utilized them from time to time. 
They’re not as strong as they could be, but they’ll do what they can.  And
they’ll grow quickly as long as you’re able to hold onto the conviction that
you found tonight in order to release them.”
Harry took a deep breath and nodded.  He almost didn’t want to find any more
tonight, but he didn’t want to waste any time in strengthening that door as
much as possible.  The memory of being possessed by that psycho was more than
enough inspiration to continue.
The next stop was Pride.  They found him in a courtyard that just happened to
look exactly like the backyard at the Dursleys where Harry had been spending
most of his days on one task or another that kept him under the blazing sun but
out of sight from the neighbors.
Pride wasn’t working though.  He was just standing in the yard, staring
defiantly at the wall across the way that looked exactly like the back of the
Dursleys’ house.  And maybe it actually was.  Pride was dressed in the tattered
clothes given to him by the Dursleys, oversized and filthy from working.  It
was also bloody, the cause of the blood very obviously being Pride’s own as he
looked like he’d endured one of the worst beatings that Harry had ever gotten
from them just minutes ago.
At least this one, Harry was pretty sure, wasn’t his fault.  It was his so-
called family that had put his pride in such a state, but still, it held
strong.  The Aspect looked a little older than Harry was, maybe as much as
twenty, and he didn’t look at all weak despite the humiliation anyone would
have felt to wear such clothes and the beating he’d obviously taken.
Harry hadn’t received any beatings this year, thanks to the Order’s threats. 
He was pretty sure that’s why they kept finding reasons to send him out in the
sun.  It just wouldn’t do if Harry wasn’t in as much pain as they could cause.
After sending Pride off to join the others, Harry and Loyalty returned to
Paranoia.  After ten minutes of trying to convince the Aspect that they were
who they claimed to be, Harry got fed up and just willed himself to be next to
the Aspect, and then hastily willed himself to be impervious to anything
Paranoia could do when he started trying to curse him.
Harry finally had to slap him before the man would calm down.  Even then, his
eyes darted around constantly, searching for threats.  Harry could see the
benefit of having a developed streak of paranoia, but he seriously needed to
get a handle on this.  The Aspect was based out of the Astronomy tower – for
the full range of vision and few access points.  He was holding a wand in each
hand with four more stuffed into available pockets and two into the waistband
of his trousers.  The room also looked a lot like Mad-Eye’s office had.  It was
filled with foe glasses, sneak-o-scopes, dark detectors, and every other manner
of spying or detection device that Harry had ever heard of.
It took him a while to figure out how to tone down his paranoia to improve this
Aspect.  He had lots of very good reasons to be paranoid, after all.  Finally,
he thought about Mad-Eye, about how much he didn’twant to be “that guy”, and
spent a good half hour convincing himself of ways to make his paranoia
healthier.  He hadn’t even realized that he was that bad, but he wasn’t too
surprised.  He hadn’t had many opportunities lately to get worried, being that
he’d been between Hogwarts, Privet Drive, and Grimmauld Place fairly
exclusively, generally only around people that he already knew.  Thinking about
it, he could see how he’d gotten a bit paranoid lately when he’d stepped out of
those comfort zones.
Finally, he looked at Paranoia again, and was pleased to see that the Aspect
looked considerably less crazy.  Though he still had all the extra wands, at
least he’d started using the mirrors to watch his back instead of constantly
looking over his shoulder, and the feverish light in his eyes had diminished.
“Just Protectiveness and Logic left, right?” Harry sighed tiredly when he’d
sent Paranoia off and rejoined Loyalty.
The Aspect nodded.  “Nice work with Paranoia, by the way.  That’s the first
time he’s left that tower since the Third Task.”
Harry chuckled ruefully at the truth of that statement and what it said about
him.
“Well, come on,” Loyalty smiled.  “Let’s go get Logic.”
Harry was surprised when he was led to the headmaster’s office.  He was still
struggling to understand why this Aspect would be hanging out there when they
neared the door and an angry roar came along with a crash and the sound of
things breaking.
Alarmed, Harry hurried to open to door, only to be forced to make himself
impervious once again as an object flew at him.  Harry was stunned at an image
of himself – looking almost exactly like him right down to the Gryffindor robes
– except that his face was contorted in fury as he destroyed Dumbledore’s
office.  He almost expected to find the old man sitting calmly behind the desk,
but was very glad to find the chair empty.  Even a representation of the old
man in his head would have severely disturbed him.  Not that he was
particularly comforted by seeing how he must have looked when he’d thrown that
fit.
“Rage,” Loyalty spoke as he stopped next to Harry.
That explained it.  It was somewhat disturbing to find that this aspect of
himself was so much more powerful than some of the others that seemed much
healthier and much more useful.
For some time, Harry just watched in disturbed awe as Rage went on without
pause, throwing things around the office, only to have them return to their
original position in pristine condition a few moments later until he put hands
on them again.
He wasn’t drawn from the astonished staring until he realized that there was
another Aspect in the room when the last one had to dodge a flying object. 
This latest Aspect was dressed in Ravenclaw robes, impassively watching the
destruction.
“Now was there any point in that?” the Ravenclaw said emotionlessly.  “Do you
really feel any better?”
Logic, Harry realized.  No wonder he had such a hard time being logical if that
Aspect was constantly trying to talk sense into Rage.
“Um…  Can we talk to you outside?” Harry managed to ask the unaffected Aspect
between violent crashes and howls of fury.
“Of course,” Logic nodded, still with that disturbing lack of emotion.
Harry winced as something collided with the door just as it closed behind them,
and they rode the staircase back down to the relieving silence of the
corridor.  “He’s always like that?” he uneasily asked of the one they’d left
behind.
“Since you let him loose in Dumbledore’s office,” Logic nodded, looking
slightly disapproving, but still scarily blank-faced.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.  “That was a rough night, and
Dumbledore was a prick for the way he handled it.”
Logic just nodded silent agreement.
“Come on,” Loyalty suggested.  “Protectiveness will meet us back at the door.”
Harry raised a curious eyebrow at that.
Loyalty just shrugged, “Protectiveness, Harry.  You need protecting.  He’ll be
there.”
“Oh.”  That made sense.  “Why wasn’t he there with Will already?”
“Well, it’s usually not youthat you’re worried about protecting, is it?  He
spends most of his time guarding your memories of Innocence, and some of the
more recent happy ones.”
“Innocence?” Harry asked interestedly.  He didn’t even want to imagine what
shape thatAspect must be in.
Loyalty grimaced slightly.  “Innocence died when you were four, I’m afraid,” he
said quietly.
Harry gulped, but he wasn’t greatly surprised.  Just went to show how stupid
Dumbledore had been to try to give him a “childhood” though.  It was now
confirmed that he hadn’t been a “child” since he was four.  In fact, if Aspects
had human rights, he was pretty sure the Dursleys would be going to prison for
murder.
When they got back to the door, Harry had the interesting experience of seeing
so many of his Aspects together. 
Will was still watching the door.  Ambition and Cunning were having a whispered
conversation that was slightly unnerving for the way they kept sending
speculative looks at the others.  Knowledge was sitting in a corner, hugging
his knees, though his face was up and he seemed to be evaluating everyone. 
Protectiveness – a well-developed adult Aspect – stood in the back with his
hand on his wand like he was standing guard over the group.  Paranoia was
huddled back in a second corner, trying to watch everyone at once, but he still
looked markedly saner than when Harry had first met him.  Pride seemed to be
trying to look down his nose at everyone despite his ragged appearance.
“Okay…” Harry said somewhat uneasily as every eye turned to him on his
entrance.  He did realize that it was somewhat ridiculous to be nervous
addressing a crowd of various Aspects of himself, but…  He really had no idea
what to do now.  He automatically looked to Loyalty for advice.  That Aspect
had been the one giving it all night.
Loyalty smiled a little in response, but it was Logic who spoke in his
emotionless tone.  “We will all be necessary to accomplish our goal.  Perhaps
we should compare thoughts,” he suggested.
Harry nodded, glad that some part of him knew what was going on.  “Right.  So,
does anyone have any ideas on how we should go about fixing that to keep
Voldemort from getting in here again?”
Knowledge spoke first.  “The original door was formed by Mother’s sacrifice and
secured by Will,” he said quietly, staring at his knees.  “It was damaged in
first year when we killed Quirrell because we used a lot of the sacrifice’s
remaining power.  In fourth year, when our blood was used in his resurrection
ritual, most of the power that was left was drained and he was able to break it
down.”
“I held him back as much as I was able,” Will said with quiet intensity – not
looking away from the door.  “Without the door, there was little that I could
do.  We made what repairs we could over time, but it wasn’t until after the
possession that we were able to get it to fully close again.  I fear, however,
that it may not remain that way for long once his strength has recovered.”
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Okay.  So how do we fix it?”
“Memories,” Logic supplied.
Harry frowned uncertainly and Logic continued before he could ask a question.
He moved over to the door and pointed to the blanket beneath it.  “A memory of
comfort and a wish for family and identity.”  He next directed attention to the
old sock, “A memory of bitterness, embarrassment, and longing.” 
Harry frowned at that until he realized that it was an old sock he’d received
from the Dursleys for Christmas one year.  It had been way too big, had a hole
in the toe, had no mate, and had not even been washed after Vernon last wore
it.  Still, he’d kept it in his cupboard because it had been a gift, however
pathetic.  The memory was nota pleasant one.
Logic pointed to a piece of used chewing gum next.  “A memory of playfulness
and friendship.”  In primary school, before Dudley taught everyone to avoid
him, a boy named Josiah had shared a piece of gum.  He then indicated one of
the strangely shaped boards.  “A memory of home and happiness.”
Harry blinked as he realized that the board looked like a piece of his bed at
Hogwarts.
“A memory of loyalty and friendship,” Logic pointed to the spell-o-tape.
Harry wondered if it was from the memory of Ron attempting to fix his broken
wand in second year.  “So the door is patched up with memories,” he concluded. 
“How, exactly, can I even make memories into objects?” he posed to anyone,
though his eyes stuck on Knowledge.
The Aspect didn’t disappoint.  “Here, memories areobjects.  Everything that you
see, hear smell, touch, taste, and feel here is made of memory.  Some, like the
walls, floor, sky outside, and other things are a conglomeration of general
knowledge gleaned through the context of many memories.  Others are more
specific to certain memories.  The latter have more strength because there are
emotions in them.  The stronger the emotions, the stronger the memory.”
“Thank you,” Harry nodded to the apparently small boy.  He got a little smile
in return.  “So how do I go about finding memories to use on this door?” he
wondered.
“You’re asking the wrong question,” Cunning admonished.  “Locating memories
here is easy.  What you need to be wondering is whichmemories to find.”
Ambition nodded his agreement.  “When we were possessed, how did we get rid of
the demon?”
Harry frowned, recalling that Dumbledore had asked him something similar.  “I
thought about Sirius.”
Cunning smirked, “Right.  The biased old bastard concluded that you’d
frightened away the demon with thoughts of love,” he sneered the last word with
almost as much distaste as he’d put into “biased old bastard”.
“I didn’t?” Harry frowned uncertainly.
Cunning rolled his eyes.
“What is love, Harry?” Logic posed.
“It’s…” Harry frowned.  He was sure that he knew this, but…  He couldn’t bring
a definition to mind.  Maybe he should look it up the next time he found a
dictionary.
“Exactly,” Logic nodded to the non-answer.  “If you’re wondering, that Aspect
is still alive, but he stopped developing the night our parents were killed.”
Harry’s eyes widened and he almost choked to hear that.  “That’smy great weapon
against Voldemort?!  An Aspect of my personality that I haven’t known since my
parents died?!”  In retrospect, he should have realized that sooner, but he’d
never really thought of it that way.  Love was…  Well…  He loved Hedwig. 
Right?  He cherished her, at least.  He’d be heartbroken if she died.  And
surely he must love his friends.  And the Weasleys.  He likedthem, at least. 
Thinking about it though, he really hadn’t the first idea how to tell if he
felt love or if it was just “like” for anyone.
That was incredibly disturbing to think about.
“Dumbledore’s an idiot,” Cunning scowled.
Logic nodded his agreement.  “He is intelligent, but not smart.  Despite his
age, he is capable of understanding only his own narrow spectrum of experience
in many things.  He knows that our life with the Dursleys was difficult, but
has truly never imagined how bad because he cannot comprehend a reality in
which family would harm family on any real level.  At least, not without the
corrupting influence of Dark Magic at work.  Since the Dursleys are muggles, he
believes that they must truly love you, even if they do not often show it.”
“They hate me,” Harry said without the slimmest doubt.  “They’ve gone out of
their way to make sure that I understand that.”
Logic dipped his head in agreement again.  “He left you with the Dursleys.  He
abandoned Sirius to Azkaban when he could have demanded a trial for him, being
the head of the Wizengamot.  He attempted to give you a childhood by sheltering
you from the truth since you’ve started Hogwarts, yet he has not protected you
from the true dangers.  Perhaps he has been carefully manipulating you
throughout your entire life or perhaps he is merely a very foolish and
misguided old man.  Either way, his grievances against you, personally, are
many.  Trusting him would be folly.”
Harry stared at Logic and tried not to let himself get too angry.  He
remembered what Rage had looked like, throwing a tantrum up there in his mental
reproduction of Dumbledore’s office.  He didn’t want to be that.  He was better
than that.  Rage might be able to do a lot of damage, but that Aspect alone was
not going to keep him alive. 
After a long moment, he managed a fairly calm nod and tried to return to the
topic at hand.  “So we don’t think that love is the power the prophecy was
talking about?”
“Quite likely,” Logic noted, “thisis the power.  Us, together, here.  If you
can master your mind, you can maximize your power, intellect, and memory.”
Harry’s eyes widened as he realized that Logic was right.  This probably washis
great secret weapon.  He kind of wished that it was something more like being
invincible or shooting lasers out of his eyes, but he could work with this. 
And now that he knew, he was going to work that much harder to use it.
“All right.  So, if it wasn’t my love for Sirius that got Voldemort out of my
mind when I was possessed, what wasit?”
“Grief,” Will said in his quiet, intense voice.  “Whether or not you loved
Sirius, you saw him as your last chance at a family.  Losing him was like
losing your parents all over again.  There was an entire future that you
watched die with him.  A future that you had only begun to imagine.  The pain
of that was incredibly intense.  It weakened him drastically and Loyalty and I
were able to shove him out.”
Harry sighed.  That made more sense than Voldemort being unable to be in the
presence of something so “pure” as love.  As though there was anything about
Harry that was pure or innocent anymore.  The Dursleys had literally killed his
Innocence, and he was far too scarred and bitter to ever be pure in anything. 
Besides, it seemed to him that Voldemort would be more likely to sneer at
evidence of love than flee from it.  It’s not like he hadn’t murdered enough
families in his life, and their love of each other had never slowed him down.
“Was it really my mum’s love for me that saved me from the Killing Curse?” he
wondered.  He really had no idea if any of them knew, but he was curious.
“It was a ritual,” Knowledge supplied.  “Black magic.  The kind that you will
get the Kiss for being found to use.”
Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared at the small boy.  “How do you know?” he
breathed.
“You have very old memories of it.  At the time, they meant nothing to you. 
Cross-referenced with more recent knowledge, however, they take on meaning. 
Blood was taken and offered as sacrifice on a full moon night.  The ritual was
put into motion months before Voldemort’s attack.  When he came, our mother
enacted the power of the ritual by verbally offering her life in your place. 
By killing her then, Voldemort accepted her offer and the magic of the ritual
then empowered you with protection from him.  That is why his curse backfired. 
When the demon latched onto you, that magic continued to protect you, though it
has waned slightly each Samhain since.  Now that Voldemort bears our blood, the
protection is almost useless,” he nodded toward the desiccated door.
Harry felt the need to sit again.  Happily, a chair appeared for him as it had
before.  It hadn’t been a desperate choice in the last moments of her life. 
His mother had made the choice to give her life for his months before.  She
definitely deserved to be in Gryffindor.
“Okay…” he struggled to calm down.  “Okay.  So…  All right, so memories of pain
are the ones I should be using to keep Voldemort out?  How come all of those
are happy memories?  Or happy-ish,” he gestured toward the patched-up door.
“They’re what we had,” Loyalty smiled sadly.  “We’ve had only limited power. 
Some of us have more than others.”
Harry sighed.  That’s right.  Cunning and Ambition were chained up in the
basement.  Knowledge was hiding under the table in the library.  Paranoia
refused to leave his tower.  Logic was stuck trying to talk sense into Rage. 
Loyalty, Courage, Will, and Playfulness were probably the only ones with
relatively free reign in here.  Well, and Protectiveness, though he apparently
spent most of his time looking after Harry’s sadly few happy memories.
“We need to construct a new door entirely,” Ambition spoke up.
Cunning nodded, “The power of that sacrificial ritual is almost completely
gone.  Patching isn’t enough anymore.”
“How do we do that?” Harry asked, standing again as he tried to force his mind
onto the most urgent matters at hand.  He’d worry about the sad state of the
rest of his mind later.
“The demon remains weak,” Logic offered.  “This is the ideal time to do it.”
Cunning nodded his agreement.  “If we put a powerful memory in place, it should
hold until the new door can be secured.  I would suggest emotional pain, since
the demon is not unfamiliar with physical pain, though the latter might also be
incorporated.”
And so they set to work.  The Aspects led Harry around his mental castle,
locating memories to use.  It was… not pleasant to be handling those memories,
but Harry had endured them all before.  It was the pain after Cedric’s death
that was used to hold the demon at bay while they worked on piecing together a
door crafted of Harry’s very worst memories.
With the help of the Aspects, Harry figured out how to fashion a memory into
the object that he desired.  It was really just a matter of taking the memory
in hand, and enduring the pain within it while he concentrated on what he
wanted it to be.  It took form then, fairly quickly, though it always seemed
longer than it was.  The door was made of heavy wooden planks, then plated in
iron, and bound with steel, including four heavy, steel locking bars.  Then,
over that, he made heavy granite blocks and bricked it all over.  All of the
Aspects lent their strength to each construction, infusing it with Will,
Courage, Protectiveness, Logic, Ambition, Cunning, etc.  Through this
construction, they would all work toward keeping the block strong without
having to actually have their attention on it all the time, which he could only
imagine would improve his willpower significantly.
The last block slid into the wall, supported by Harry’s trembling arms, and a
flash of verdant light sealed the edges together.
Harry immediately collapsed, more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life,
including right after escaping Voldemort in fourth year. 
“You did well, Harry,” he heard whispered in his ear, and then everything went
dark.
***** The Truth Hurts *****
Chapter Notes
     This story is AU. That means I'm going to be having my randy way with
     canon. What is relevant at the moment is that Severus has not made
     any vows to kill anyone and Dumbledore does not have a blackened
     hand. Though many aspects of HBP have been hijacked, this is NOT
     leading into anything resembling DH. Seventh year will be completely
     AU.
===============================================================================
                                        
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 2
                                The Truth Hurts
2 July 1996 - Tuesday
Harry woke to a sharp rapping on his door demanding that he get up and make
breakfast.  He groaned quietly at the pain in his back and lamented leaving his
bed as he barely felt like he’d slept at all.  That had been an exceptionally
weird dream though.  Even for him.
Well, at least it hadn’t been another nightmare.
It wasn’t until several hours later, while he was guzzling water from the hose
on the short break he’d been given for lunch, that he finally began to wonder
if it hadn’tbeen a dream.  Despite how incongruous it seemed that he’d really
spent the night with the Aspects of his personality building a better defense
in his mind against Voldemort, Harry was starting to realize that he actually
didfeel different.  His mind felt clearer and calmer than it had in years.  He
felt like he could really think.  Reason.  He was still sad about Sirius, but
the worst of the guilt had faded.
Sleep was a long time coming that night.  The blisters on his back were
oozing.  He suspected that his family was trying to kill him via skin cancer
now.  His mind drifted dazedly through his memories of the night before while
he lay there.  He didn’t quite realize that he was falling asleep until he
noticed that the pain was gone.  He opened his eyes then and found himself back
in that room, staring at a freshly bricked-over section of wall where that
black door had stood.
“Welcome back.”
Harry blinked and looked up at where Loyalty was standing over him with a warm
smile.
“Yeah, good to see you.  Come on, get up, we’ve got more work to do,” Ambition
added impatiently.
With a sigh, Harry pulled himself up off the floor.  All the Aspects he’d
worked with last night were here.  “What’s on the agenda tonight?” Harry
asked.  He was starting to suspect that this really was real.  Surely he
couldn’t possibly be having a perfect continuation of last night’s dream.  His
mind was way too chaotic for that.
“Security,” Protectiveness said sternly.  “You may have blocked the demon’s
backdoor, but the front remains wide open.”
“Organization,” Knowledge added.  “I’m cleaning up the library, but there’s
still far too much chaos here.  You need to sort your memories.”
“No,” Will put in.  “He needsto have a look at his magical core.  It’s in bad
shape, and it could be a lot stronger.”
“All those are important,” Logic countered the three of them.  “And I could add
that he needs to get Rage under control and deal with Fear as well.  You are
far too emotionally driven to function productively whenever you face
antagonism.  Emotions are powerful motivators and can lend a great deal of
strength to certain spells, but you must master them rather than allowing them
to master you.”
“I agree with everyone,” Loyalty smiled.  “I can’t say that any are more
important than the others, either.  I suggest that you devote a couple hours
each night to each of those pursuits.”
Harry sighed.  He couldn’t help but feel like he deserved a break, at least at
night, but he knew that they were all right.  He had to get his mind in order
as soon as possible.  And he was verycurious about what Will had said about his
magic, too.  He just hoped he wouldn’t feel so tired every morning or he
couldn’t imagine how he was going to survive the summer.  Of course, this
wasconsiderably better than the nightmares that had plagued him every night
since Sirius’ death.
Harry decided to start with Will, since he wanted to know what the Aspect had
meant about his magical core.  He was led down deep within the bowels of the
castle, and when they stopped before the doors, Harry realized with some unease
that they were standing at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets – or so it
appeared.  He gulped and looked at Will again.  “Why is it here?” he asked
weakly.
“Because this is the least-accessible place you know,” Will shrugged, his face
as stony as ever.
Harry nodded.  That made sense, he supposed, though he didn’t like it that
Voldemort was the only other person who could enter this place.  Well, that
wouldn’t matter as long as he kept him out of his mind entirely, he supposed. 
Kind of like at Hogwarts.  Voldemort might be able to open the chamber, but
he’d have to get into Hogwarts first.  “We just go in, then?” he asked
uneasily.
Will dipped his head in a slight nod.
Harry took a deep breath and hissed the door open.  As soon as he’d done it, an
idea struck him.  “Hey, can I change the password?” he wondered.
“It is your mind,” Will nodded.  “Just speak the new phrase and will it to be
so.”
Harry thought about it for a minute, and then smirked vindictively. 
“Voldemort’s a whiny bitch.”
Will snorted quietly and his lips trembled with the urge to smile.  “That is
one way to keep him from guessing it,” he agreed quietly.
Harry grinned, pleased with his own cunning, and stepped through the now-open
door into…
His jaw dropped.  The interior was notthe Chamber of Secrets despite the door. 
Instead, he found himself entering a perfectly spherical room.  In the center
of the room, something was floating.  It was bright green and…  Well, it looked
like a lumos light wrapped in cloth.  There were a few tears in the cloth where
light was bleeding through unimpeded.  A steady stream of bright green liquid
was leaking out at the bottom, dripping onto the floor to make a small puddle
that didn’t seem to be growing any larger.  In addition to the cloth, there
were several ribbons tied around it.  They looked a little frayed.
“It’s not supposed to look like that, is it?” he whispered uneasily.
“No,” Will said flatly.
“Why does it, then?”
“Your magic is bound by several sources.  Our mother’s sacrifice was the
first.  The ritual magic has drawn strength directly from your core, greatly
impeding your potential, but offering what protection it could as it began to
degenerate.  The ribbons are intentional magical bindings.  I do not know their
origins, but I believe the memories are still stored in the deepest archives.”
“Can I see them?”
Will shook his head.  “The archives are sealed by an outside source.”
“Outside source?” he frowned.
“An obliviate.”
Harry’s jaw dropped.  He’d been obliviated?  “Wait, if I was obliviated,
shouldn’t the memories be gone?”
“I do not know.  You would have to confer with Knowledge.”
Harry nodded uneasily, making a mental note to head there next.  “Is there
anything that I can do about this?”
“Yes.  That is why I brought you here.  It will take time and effort, but you
can begin to unravel the blocks.”
Harry’s stomach turned again.  “Someone deliberately blocked my magic, didn’t
they?”
“The obliviates make that very likely,” Will agreed.  “Some of it may have also
been your doing.”
“You’re saying I did this to myself?” Harry asked, incensed.
Will just nodded, unaffected by Harry’s anger.  “You were punished for
accidental magic.  It is natural that you would suppress it just as you
suppressed Knowledge.”
Harry growled quietly and took a few moments to try to calm himself again. 
Logic was right.  He really did need to do something about Rage.  “Okay.  Tell
me what to do.”
And so the next couple of hours – though it felt much longer – were spent in
that room, literally unraveling a ribbon one thread at a time.  They didn’t
want to come free and they were painful to touch, but Will promised him that
the pain was a defense mechanism and not doing him any physical, mental, or
magical harm.  It wasn’t Cruciatus pain, but it was bad enough that he had
tears streaking his face and his jaw hurt from clenching by the time Will
informed him that his allotted time for the night had ended.
Gasping and trying not to weep with relief, Harry almost crawled back out of
his core and gratefully locked the door again.  Considering how much he’d
accomplished, he probably had a couple more months of nightly sessions like
that before he removed the last ribbon.  He really hoped that the cloth
surrounding it didn’t have to come off the same way.
He sought out Knowledge next, and took a trip down to the archives. 
Unfortunately, when they got there, he found himself staring at nothing more
than a solid wall. 
“The archives are hidden here,” Knowledge explained to Harry’s questioning
look. 
“But I thought obliviate was supposed to removememories, not conceal them,”
Harry pointed out.  “Is this what happens to everyone, or am I… different?”  Am
I even more of a freak than I thought? Was left unspoken.
Knowledge just shrugged.  “I know no mind but yours.  If you can find an
account of similar situations in others, I can store the knowledge, but I can’t
create it from nothing.”
Harry sighed and shook his head.  “You seem to know a lot more than I do.”
“I do not,” Knowledge said quietly.  “I am, quite literally, the sum total of
your knowledge.  I simply am able to access things that you’ve forgotten, and
things that you never realized you’d learned.  A conversation to which you did
not pay enough attention to note or recall, for example, would still be here. 
When I am finished organizing all of your knowledge, you will be able to access
it all at will.”
Harry’s eyes widened.  “Really?  I’ll have a perfect memory?”
“Everyone has a perfect memory,” Knowledge corrected.  “Knowledge is never lost
once it has been gained.  The question is rather if an individual’s mind is
capable of locating and utilizing the knowledge on command.  Your ability to
access your mind in this way makes you capable.  Well, once I’ve got it all
sorted, at least.”
“So, anyone could potentially do this?”  It seemed bizarre to Harry, who’d
always thought that a perfect memory was an extremely rare gift that some
people just had and most didn’t.
“Yes and no,” Knowledge shrugged.  “Muggles cannot access their mind in this
way.  Many magicals could never delve deeply enough into their mind to manage
it.”
Harry shook his head, “Okay, where did I learn that?”
Knowledge smirked.  “It is derived from impressions, insinuations, half-heard
conversations, ignored lessons, and television programs heard through the
cupboard door.  A benefit of having me singled out from your other Aspects is
that I am capable of compiling this sort of thing almost without thought.  Even
a perfect memory would not grant that.”
“But how?” Harry had to wonder.  “How is this possible?  How come I can do it?”
Knowledge frowned thoughtfully for a moment before offering.  “Think of it this
way.  When you dream, you can often perfectly recall things that you could not
in the waking world.  Dreams can also show you parallels that you would not
draw on your own.  Everyone has this ability.  They merely cannot access it at
will.  You have tapped into your subconscious.  Each of us is an Aspect of your
subconscious mind, while you,” he gestured to Harry’s person, “are the sum
total of your conscious mind.  I can’t be sure, but I imagine that you are
perhaps unique in your ability to do that.
“As to why you are able,” he shrugged again.  “Perhaps it relates to the ritual
our mother used.  Perhaps it is a side-effect of that protection existing
within us for so long.  Perhaps it is caused by the demon’s presence that you
unconsciously battled for most of your life.  It could even be a combination of
all three and more.  Maybe if the Dursleys had been kind, you would not have
been as connected to your subconscious.  Maybe it is all of the near-death
experiences you’ve had.  I can’t say with any certainty given your current
knowledge, but I can tell you that you are unique, Harry.  And it’s not because
of the prophecy.  You are unique because a great many improbable circumstances
have combined to makeyou unique.”
Harry sighed wearily and Knowledge giggled.  “Everyone’s unique, you know,” he
pointed out.  "No two people are the same.  Your differences just tend to be a
little more blatant.”
Harry frowned at that, but dismissed it for the moment.  “Is there any way to
get in here?” he asked, nodding toward the wall.
Knowledge scowled at the wall.  “Memories can’t be used against this.  The wall
is a memory trap.  Any that you try to employ would merely be lost within. 
You’ll need pure magic to breech this.  I suspect more pure magic than you can
access at the moment.  Keep working on your core, and we’ll come back to this.”
Harry glared at the wall, but nodded.  He really wanted to know who’d
obliviated him and why, but he supposed grumbling about it wasn’t going to fix
anything.  He’d just have to wait and keep working on his core.  But no more of
that tonight.  He didn’t think he could handle it.  “Okay.  Let’s work on
organizing my memories, then.”
Knowledge led him back out of the deep archives and up to the library where
Knowledge liked to hang out.  Though it had only been a day, Harry could
already see that the library looked slightly cleaner, and it was getting
larger.  Knowledge must have been adding more shelves as he sorted through the
mess.
“Okay, your memories are, literally, scattered everywhere in your mind,”
Knowledge started.  “Not only does that make it extremely difficult for me to
find them so that you can use them, but I believe it is a large part of the
reason that your mind is so chaotic.  Now, your memories fall into the domain
of all of your Aspects, generally more than one in each memory.  Your memories
have shaped who you are.  They are, in essence, you.  That is why they are so
powerful here.  As you learned last night, they can be used to your benefit,
but they can also be a detriment if left to their own devices.
“So, a few things need to happen here for you to get your memories into proper
order.  First things first, we need a depository for your new memories so that
they’re not ending up scattered all over the place for you to search out and
organize later.”
Harry blinked.  “How the hell do I create a memory depository?”
Knowledge smiled.  “Remember, Harry, this is your mind.  All things are
possible in here.  You need only to convince yourself that it is so and it will
be.  Once the depository is ready, we’ll move on to the memory archive.  That’s
where you’ll store all of your memories, sorted, labeled, and carefully
ordered.  When the archive is ready, we’ll be able to start moving your
memories directly from the depository into the archive without you having to
manually order them, which will save you a lot of time and effort.”
Harry nodded.  Saving time and effort sounded good.  One day, he hoped to relax
at night, again.
“So, you need to choose a location and means for the depository.”
Harry sighed and sat down to give it some thought.  Then he frowned.  “I could
use some help.  Maybe Logic and Cunning?”
“I’d suggest Ambition and Will as well.  Once you get the hang of controlling
this place a little more, you won’t need Will’s direct influence, but it
couldn’t hurt now.  And Ambition might have some ideas that you may not
consider.”
Harry nodded, “Do I have to go and find…?” he trailed off as the four Aspects
in question just appeared in the room.  “Never mind.  Okay,” he addressed the
group.  “I need to make a memory depository.  I’m trying to figure out what
form it should take and where I should put it.  Any suggestions?”
“Craft it from a memory of studying,” Logic offered.  “The memory will already
contain a desire to retain memories, which will do much of the work for you.”
Harry smiled.  He really liked brainstorming with his Aspects.  They made him
feel so smart.  “Great idea.  What else?” he asked of the group.
“Don’t allow the memories to take physical form,” Cunning put in.  “Some of
them are volatile, and they may not react well together.  Restrain them to a
single, uniform form.”
Harry nodded.  That made sense.
“What form do you plan for the archive to take?” Logic asked.
Harry frowned, “I hadn’t really thought about it yet.”  How would he store his
memories?  Books, maybe?  But that made him think too much of his knowledge,
and they were two very different things.  It would be inconvenient though, to
have them take physical forms like they’d been doing naturally.  How could he
possibly organize them all when some were in the shape of a flower, and others
a statue or a living animal?  It would be like a storage room meets museum
meets zoo.  That hardly sounded well-organized.
What did he think about when he considered his memories?  Well, a pensieve, he
supposed, but it would hardly be that efficient to have a mess of pensieves
holding each memory.  There had to be thousands of them, after all.  Many
thousands.
That made him think about the prophecy orbs at the Department of Mysteries. 
Each had held something very like a memory of a prophecy.  But even thinking
about that place gave him the creeps.  He didn’t want a Hall of Prophecies in
his mind, even if it was holding memories rather than prophecies.  What did
that leave?
Wait a minute, he frowned.  Photographs.  They werememories, in their way, and
especially wizarding photographs, which not only moved, but seemed to somehow
harness something of the people in them, allowing the people in the photos to
act in a way that went with the personality and mindset of the people when the
picture was taken.
But how would he store those…?  He could frame them and hang them on a wall,
but that would take a lotof space.  He could put them into albums, he
supposed.  Actually, that was a really good idea.  He relayed the thought to
the Aspects, who nodded thoughtfully.
“So kind of like a library, but for photo albums rather than books,” Logic
extrapolated.  “Then the memories coming in could be in the form of
photographs, which is convenient, because they will take little space and will
not be able to attack each other or wander off…”
“Just have them collect in a shoe box,” Cunning smirked.  “Put it in the room
with the archive, near the door.”
“I would suggest having them automatically copy themselves.”
Harry blinked and looked over at where Protectiveness was standing.  “When did
you get here?” he frowned.  He hadn’t called for him.
“Well, your mind does bear evidence of past obliviates,” he shrugged.  “If you
copy all of your memories and store them in a secondary location, no one
attempting to obliviate you could possibly think there was a need to steal the
memory twice.”
Harry nodded, then slowly grinned.  “Brilliant,” he congratulated.  He really
hated the idea of being obliviated, and the fact that he hadbeen at some point,
only reinforced that.  “Thanks.”
Protectiveness only nodded.
Harry made a mental note to include that guy more often.  Knowledge nodded and
Harry looked at him strangely for a moment before he realized that Knowledge
was probably storing his mental notes for him.  That made him smile before
moving on.  “Any other suggestions?”
“I vote we raze this castle,” Ambition put in.
Harry blinked at him.  “Excuse me?” he asked, bewildered.
Ambition shrugged unrepentantly.  “This place was constructed out of a chaotic
mind throughout your life.  Hogwarts is more organized, which is saying a lot. 
This is your mind, I think that you should wipe the slate clean, so to speak,
and start over.  Build it properly, exactly as you want it, with nothing
extra.”
Harry frowned thoughtfully.  It was an ambitious suggestion – not
surprisingly.  It sounded like a lot of work too, given everything that he
already had on his plate.  Ambition did make a good point though. 
“It’s something to keep in mind,” Logic temporized.  “Obviously, it would be
better to clean up the old memories laying around before knocking down the
walls.  I suggest that you organize your memories first, but create the archive
somewhere not within the castle so that you won’t have to worry about
disturbing it when you begin demolitions.  Perhaps if you started with the
memories outside and cleared that first, you could build the archive out
there.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.  “But what about the deep archive and my core? 
Those are both in the castle.”
“Those are both beneath the castle,” Logic corrected.  “You could leave them
and tunnels to them while building new over the top.”
Knowledge raised his hand to add, “Point of fact, your core isn’t beneath us. 
It isn’t anywhere.  It isn’t in your mind at all, but your soul.  The access
point to it within your mind can be anywhere that you wish it to be.”
“Good to know…” Harry said slowly.  Messing about in his mind, he could
handle.  It was his mind, and his to mess about with.  His soul, however, was
something that he didn’t even want to think about messing with.  And it
disturbed him a little that his core was so repressed if it resided within his
soul.  Wait a tick…  “Where did you learn that?” he asked incredulously.
Knowledge frowned and his eyes unfocused.  For at least a minute, he seemed
entirely occupied with his thoughts.  Finally, he shook his head.  “No idea.  I
can’t find the source of the knowledge.”
Harry frowned, but nodded, “All right.  Keep organizing, and let me know if you
figure it out.”  He really didn’t remember any time that he might have picked
that up, and Knowledge had seemed really sure that it was right.
No one else seemed to have anything else to offer at the moment, so Harry spent
the next hour searching out the memories outside and gathering them up so that
he could start building the archive.  The memories weren’t really hard to find,
but it was time consuming to locate them and go to collect them, and then
reform them into photos and store them.  The worst of it was that some of the
memories were hard to catch!  There was a disturbingly large number of them in
animal form outside.  Snakes and rabbits and mice and birds and more. 
After an exhausting couple of hours, Logic finally took pity on him and pointed
out that he was doing it the hard way by not utilizing the power of his mind. 
After that, Harry turned himself into an eagle and found it infinitely easier
to catch the rodents.  He also started flying to get around faster, or even
just vanishing from one place and reappearing in another if he knew exactly
where he was going.  He still had to hunt down most of the memories, but he
could just jump back afterward.
And it was a few hours, that hour that he spent on collecting memories.  Since
thought moved much more quickly than action, and he was now existing in an
entire world comprised of thought, time was not the same at all.  It seemed to
be about three times as fast, though Knowledge believed that that speed would
likely increase as he organized his mind further.  He did wonder how any of
them were keeping track of time outside while he was in his mind.  Knowledge
had rolled his eyes at that question and very dryly pointed out that he wasn’t
keeping track of anything.  He was merely extrapolating the amount of time that
Harry had spent there the previous night and comparing that to the number of
hours that Harry remembered sleeping to estimate how long this night would
last.  He cheerfully added that the previous night could have been an anomaly
or the speed may fluctuate, in which case he could be completely wrong.  Which
was… less than encouraging.
When knowledge informed him that the estimated time he’d allotted for working
on his memories had elapsed, Harry gratefully sought out Protectiveness to
discuss security.  He quickly decided to bring what he was rapidly coming to
think of as his advisers in on the conversation as well.  Considering the
context, he invited Cunning, Ambition, Will, Knowledge, Loyalty, Logic, and
Paranoia.
“Now that the demon cannot get in through that door,” Knowledge began, “we’re
focusing on blocking Legilimens, correct?” he addressed Protectiveness.
“We’re not actually sure that the demon can’t get through the door,” Paranoia
pointed out disapprovingly whilst fingering one of his many wands and eyeing
everyone in the room suspiciously.  “We’ve definitely made it more difficult,
but it is completely untested as of now so it would be extremely precipitous to
say that he couldn’t get in.”
“He makes a good point,” Logic nodded.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Protectiveness agreed.  “At the moment, however, we
must focus on the known weakness.  Snape demonstrated very clearly last year
how easily we are penetrated.  To protect against him, Voldemort, and
Dumbledore in addition to anyone else with the skill, this needs to be done
before school resumes at the latest.”
Harry nodded.  “All right.  So how do we protect… um… all of this?”
“Using our experience with Snape as an example of that from which we are
protecting ourselves,” Knowledge mused, “I suggest that we create a place into
which any invading mind may be directly shunted.”
“Then we can work on securing that place to keep them from coming any further. 
I suggest that we base it near the demon so that we can focus security in one
area,” Logic posited.
“It should be multiple parts,” Cunning expounded.  “One for invited guests,
should you ever wish to bring someone in for any reason.  One for uninvited
guests, should the outer defenses be breeched, and perhaps a third as a sort of
prison, should you wish to hold a mind within yours.”
Harry grimaced slightly at the idea of that, but nodded his agreement.  It
wouldn’t hurt to have it, after all.  He didn’t haveto use it, but he’d rather
be prepared for anything than find himself regretting it later.  “That all
sounds good.  First things first, though, howdo I make anyone coming in go to a
certain place?”
“Luckily, Snape’s example has shown us how an aggressive legilimens will come
in,” Knowledge smiled a little.  “With that memory, I think we should be able
to create a sort of… vortex that will shunt any invaders directly where we want
them.  Well, that’s assuming that each legilimens doesn’t have a unique method,
in which case we’ll need to rethink that defense if we want to defend against
anyone but him.  For now, however, I believe we have to assume that his
entrance was typical of any legilimens attempting to enter through anything but
the Demon Door.”
Harry nodded his agreement, though he did fervently hope that Snape’s way of
getting in was the same as everyone used.  Not only would it be a lot harder
otherwise, but it would be difficult to ever be sure that his security was
adequate until he’d been legilimized by a lot of different people.  An
experience that he hoped to avoid in general.
“Okay, so we need somewhere to have the vortex drop them out before we can
create the vortex, so…  Let’s go to the Demon Door,” he kind of liked that
term, “and figure out how to set up the rooms that they’ll come into if they
get in.”
The next few hours were spent figuring out what forms the rooms would take and
how they would be aligned.  Unfortunately, if they were going to build off the
Demon Door, Harry would need to clear the existing memories out of the area
first, so he didn’t actually get a chance to start on that yet.  Though he knew
this was important, all of his other current projects seemed important too, and
he didn’t actually expect to be meeting any legilimens at Privet Drive, so he
dutifully moved on to trying to sort his emotions when the time was up.
Unlike his other projects, managing his emotions turned out to involve a lot of
sitting and talking.  With Logic, Knowledge, and Loyalty there to offer advice,
Harry found himself dealing with a lot of issues he generally tried to avoid or
ignore.  That avoidance was why Rage had become so powerful, though.  Something
had to be done about it. 
Fear, Harry hadn’t thought was a problem.  Courage generally seemed to subsume
his fear when necessary.  That and Will.  But it wasn’t fear of injury or death
that was the problem apparently.  It was his fear of rejection.  That was
something that he definitely didn’t want to think about, but Logic made a
damnably good point that it was a weakness he couldn’t afford.  It could be
used against him by people like Dumbledore who recognized it, and he was
increasingly certain that the old man hadused it against him.  All of those
disappointed looks… and the proud ones too, on the opposite end of that
spectrum.
As much as Harry hated to admit it, he was eventually forced to – by his
annoyingly persistent Aspects.  He craved acceptance and approval and was
terrified of being rejected by those for whom he cared.  That was the Dursleys’
fault, too, Logic was “kind” enough to point out.  They’d spent so much time
convincing him that he was worthless – no more than a burden – that even five
years at Hogwarts hadn’t been able to take away that bone-deep conviction that
he was what they said.  Though Logic obviously knew it to be wrong, Fear
couldn’t believe it. 
So he’d made himself into what he thought other people wanted.  An average
student so Ron didn’t feel inferior and Hermione didn’t feel challenged.  Lazy,
so that Ron would like him.  Gryffindor, because the whole wizarding world
seemed to expect that of him.  A hero, continuously throwing himself into the
path of danger because that’s just what heroes did.  And for Dumbledore, he’d
made himself obedient.  He’d sculpted his opinions around the old man’s
opinions.
He really thought he was going to throw up for a while when he was finally made
to recognize the fact that, in the process of hiding from or trying to please
everyone, he’d shaped himself into something he hardly even recognized.  That
boy who’d first met Hagrid barely existed today.  Oh, he was still there,
increasingly so since he’d started freeing his repressed Aspects, but he was
deeply buried.  Harry soon discovered that he didn’t even likethe person he’d
become.  He let the whole world walk all over him just to avoid upsetting
anyone.
He spent half of his life fighting just to stay alive, and he was worrying
himself with stupid things like Quidditch and exploding snap.  Even with all of
this logic percolating in his mind, he was sickeningly conflicted.  He wantedto
be his own person.  He wantedpeople to like him for whom he really was or not
at all.
…but he didn’t want to lose his friends.  He didn’t want to be alone as he’d
been for most of his life.  It was so much easier to just keep pretending and
let everything stay as it was, but Logic was smothering him with a constant
stream of all the very logical reasons why he couldn’t do that.  For one thing,
Rage had been getting stronger every year.  No matter how much he wanted to
believe he was content with things as they were, part of him loathed every
minute of it, and that part was feeding Rage.  Add to that all of his other
stressors and it was no wonder that he’d been on a very short fuse all last
year.
===============================================================================
3 July 1996 - Wednesday
 “…Up!  Wake up!  Breakfast!”
Harry gasped as he was startled awake in the middle of a very volatile struggle
with his emotions.  He just barely clamped his jaw shut on the urge to scream
profanities at his horrible aunt.  He was breathing very heavily as he dragged
his aching body out of bed and began to dress.  He didn’t feel quite as
exhausted as he had yesterday morning, but he was considerably more emotionally
frayed.
“Hey, Knowledge,” he whispered, sure the Aspect could hear him, “remind me to
never work with my emotions right before waking up.”
Though he’d expected to be heard, he had notexpected to hear a dry chuckle in
return.
He glanced around the room, but it was still empty.  Shaking off that
disturbing new development, Harry hurried downstairs to make breakfast for the
disgusting muggles.  Dudley and Vernon would be better off skipping breakfast
all summer, not that he was dumb enough to inform the obese duo of that fact.
When he was again told to go outside and mow the lawn – which he’d done the
last three days in a row – and then scrub the driveway, only his extremely
substantial willpower kept him from screaming at them, refusing flat out, or
storming back up to his room.  He kept repeating in his mind over and over
again that it could be worse.  The summer at Privet Drive could be much, much
worse if he angered them.  They could lock him in his room and deny him food
again.  Or Vernon could get the belt that he’d not taken out yet this summer
since the Order had threatened him.  Considering the current state of Harry’s
back, he did not want to imagine what that would feel like.
Harry spent most of the day repeating all those logical reasons over and over
again in his mind, constantly fighting the urge to do something – anything– to
end the agony in his back.  On his hands and knees in the driveway with a scrub
brush, his back was right to the sun and felt like it was literally on fire
through his thin cotton shirt.
After a lean dinner, Harry stumbled into his room and collapsed onto his bed in
helpless, furious tears.  Before Hogwarts, he’d not cried because of the
Dursleys’ treatment in years, no matter how much they hurt him.  Unfortunately,
his time at Hogwarts had restored enough of his self-worth for him to believe
that he didn’t deserve their treatment.  He knew that he shouldn’t have to put
up with it.  The fact that he had to anyway was infuriating.  Feeling so
helpless against these muggleswhen he’d fought people like Voldemort, Lucius
Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange and lived to tell the tale was just disgusting.
After screaming his throat raw into his pillow and nearly suffocating himself
in the process, Harry had finally let off enough of his rage to think somewhat
clearly.
This wasn’t permanent, he reminded himself.  This summer and half of next and
he would officially be quit of these muggles.  A few minutes of thinking about
that calmed him enough for him to wonder if there was anything he could do
about his situation.
He had Hedwig.  He could write to someone.  He knew that Dumbledore wouldn’t
let him leave before he was damn good and ready, so writing to ask for that was
pointless.  He could owl order some healing potions from an apothecary, but
he’d have to give his name to pay for them, which meant that if the person on
the other end was a Death Eater or sympathizer, they could add poison to the
potions and he would have no way of checking or getting help quickly if he
needed it.  He could write to someone in the Order asking for healing potions,
but then someone would probably wonder why and come out and then the Dursleys
would be even more upset than if he just refused to do the chores.  Unless one
of them was going to move in with him, they couldn’t control the Dursleys’
treatment of him, which was obvious by his burned back.
Somewhere in the midst of searching in vain for a solution to his problem that
didn’t involve homicide, suicide, or mild starvation and beatings, Harry must
have dozed off, because he suddenly found himself in the middle of the Great
Hall, sitting in the chair he’d been in when he’d been woken that morning.
He blinked around and processed that he apparently appeared here wherever he’d
last left it.  “Okay, guys, I need some help,” he sighed.
Cunning, Ambition, Logic, Knowledge, Will, Loyalty, and Protectiveness all
popped in around him within seconds of each other.
“Get the hell out of Surrey,” Protectiveness scowled immediately.
Harry blinked at him.  “How?  Dumbledore won’t…”
“Did I say anything about Dumbledore?” the protective Aspect nearly growled.
“No,” Harry admitted, looking around at the others for help.
He didn’t find any.
“Muggle London,” Cunning offered.  “One thing that all Death Eaters have in
common is a severe lack of knowledge of the muggle world.  That makes it the
safest place for us.”
“Assuming, of course, that our relatives are nowhere around,” Protectiveness
griped.
Cunning nodded his agreement.
“I can’t just go into muggle London,” Harry protested.  “I’m underage.  I have
no money…”
“No money?” Ambition glared.  “You’re rich, idiot.”
Harry sighed, “I have no money that I can get to right now.”
“You think Gringotts doesn’t take owls?” Cunning asked skeptically.  “Write
them.  Tell them that you need to access your account, but that you’re unable
to get there.”
“Think about it, Harry,” Logic entreated.  “Do you honestly think that Lucius
Malfoy goes to Gringotts every time he needs money?  Do you think Sirius just
walked into the bank to get the funds for that Firebolt?  He most likely
conducted the entire transaction by owl.”  He didn’t look angry, of course, but
he was extra stone-faced.
Harry frowned, “You all seem really hostile tonight.”
“A reflection of your stress,” Loyalty explained, but he was scowling a bit,
too.  “Wake up right now and write a letter to Gringotts.  Send Hedwig out, and
then come back.”
Harry blinked at the Aspect.  “How do I just wake up?”
Loyalty gave him a little smile.  “You keep forgetting, Harry.  You can do
anything you want from here, including wake yourself on command.  Just believe
that you can, and it will happen.”
Harry nodded slowly.  Of course, he could wake himself up.  Why couldn’t he? 
Sure, he was asleep, but his conscious mind was still conscious.
Ow.  The pain was back.  Okay, that really did work quick.  He wondered if it
would be possible to put himself to sleep like that, because it would be really
handy if he could.
After sending Hedwig off to Gringotts, Harry returned to bed and between the
physical and emotional exhaustion, it didn’t take him too long to drop off
again.
“So what do I do if I can get some money?” he asked of the group that had
waited for his return – or maybe just come right back.  “Just take the train to
London?  Without telling anyone?”  That seemed weird to him.  He’d spent most
of his life under the thumb of the Dursleys or doing as Dumbledore instructed. 
“What about the blood wards?”
“What powers the blood wards, Harry?” Logic asked.
Harry frowned.  “My aunt, because she took me in…”  He trailed off and then
sighed as he understood what Logic was getting at.  “They only work because of
mum’s ritual, and that’s almost worthless.”
Logic nodded.  “Given the condition of the Demon Door before you repaired it,
and our aunt’s complete lack of warm feelings toward us, I think that the only
reason Voldemort hasn’t walked right through those wards is because he has yet
to try it.  Either he doesn’t know where you are, doesn’t care about getting
you as much as you’ve been led to believe, or he has just assumed that you are
protected too well and hasn’t bothered to actually check.  Either way, we’re
living on borrowed time here.”
Logic made a scary amount of sense.  And Harry knew that Dumbledore would never
believe him about the wards.  It wasn’t like he could explain about his Demon
Door.  He’d probably sound insane if he tried, and if Dumbledore did believe
him, the old man would most likely try to find a way to use it that Harry would
find unpleasant.
So, that decided it.  He had to get out of Privet Drive as soon as possible,
and he wouldn’t be telling the Order.  “I can’t just leave though,” he
reasoned.  “They’ll most likely think I was kidnapped and turn Britain upside
down trying to find me.  Good people could get killed looking for me, and at
the very least, I’d waste all of their time when they should be worried about
Voldemort.”
“You can’t be held accountable for Dumbledore’s overreaction,” Logic pointed
out, but continued before Harry could protest.  “He probably will overreact
anyway, but you can leave a note for them to find when they realize you’re
missing.”
Harry nodded.  That sounded reasonable.  The next few minutes were spent
figuring out exactly what he’d need to do and how to go about it to get away
from Privet Drive and settled in muggle London.  Once he felt relatively
confident that he knew what he was doing, he turned his attention to resuming
the projects he’d started the previous night.
He didn’t feel quite ready to deal with his emotions yet, so he decided to
start with his core again.  Nothing like some mind-numbing pain to distract you
from dwelling on your problems.  When he finished his allotted time on that –
trying not to despair at the slow progress – he reluctantly decided to work on
controlling his emotions better.  Pain was much easier to deal with than being
made to not only recognize his weaknesses, but discuss them and how to mitigate
them.  Really though, he figured he was lucky in that he was able to serve as
his own therapist.  It was much easier than telling some stranger about his
problems. 
So, Harry grit his teeth and he talked and he listened while Logic made all of
his emotional reactions seem petty and foolish and continually stressed that
Harry could not afford to continue to pander to them.  Knowledge, meanwhile,
collaborated with Logic by hitting Harry with very disturbing stats that he’d
really have rather not known.  Things like the exact number of hours he had
wasted in the last five years between practicing, playing, and discussing
Quidditch, and exactly how few aspects of that time had had even the smallest
benefit upon the skills to protect himself and his friends.  Mostly, that
included reaction time and fitness, both of which, Logic heartlessly pointed
out, could have been honed in a fraction of the time with specific exercises.
Loyalty did manage to soften some of the blows by pointing out benefits to his
mental health in the form of the camaraderie and stress-relieving effects.  Of
course, it would have been a bit nicer if Loyalty wasn’t also loyal to Logic
and Knowledge, and therefore compelled to add that the camaraderie was
purchased with Harry’s acting like something he wasn’t, and the stress-relief
could come from less time consuming and more practical activities.
And so, after a solid six mental hours of psychological battering, feeling
drained and fairly disgusted with himself, yet strangely hopeful at the
prospect of a slightly less disappointing future, Harry tried not to glare too
much while he thanked the Aspects for their help, and moved on to searching out
and collecting memories from the area in which he wanted to begin construction
on what he’d come to call the reception rooms, which would consist of parlor,
prison, and purgatory. 
Of course, because it was just his luck, the memories nearest the Demon Door
seemed to be the most god-awful of the lot.  Memories of pain, fear, despair,
grief, and rage all seemed to lurk fairly heavily in the area.
Most disturbing though, was that not all of the memories there turned out to be
his.  As best he and his advisor Aspects could figure out, those memories had
ended up there when the demon had first arrived – when he was scarred that
Halloween night – or they’d come through when Voldemort had entered his mind at
various times to give him visions and to possess him.  Though Harry had very
much wanted to destroy the memories outright, Knowledge soon informed him that
it wasn’t possible to destroy them.  At that point, he thought that either
locking them away or even sending them into the deep archives with his
obliviated memories might be a fine idea.  Again, he was overruled by Logic and
Knowledge and the simple fact that those memories could be useful.  Knowledge
could glean quite a bit from them, after all.
Finally, resigning himself to defeat, Harry had turned all of those memories
into photos and bound them into their own album.
He did manage to clean up enough to begin construction before the time to work
on security rolled around.  Demolition, once all of the memories in the area
were gone, was as simple as willing the constructs made more of knowledge than
memory to go away.  A large chunk of the castle simply vanished, leaving him
standing on an open expanse of grass next to the bricked over Demon Door. 
Curiously, he found that there was no rear side to the door, nor anything else
that he could see the door was holding back.
He discussed that with his Aspects as well, and it was soon concluded that,
apparently, that door opened into his connection with Voldemort directly.  The
reason the door had no second side was because that side was actually in
Voldemort’s mind.  Or maybe it was in some nonspace between their minds or
something of that sort.  It didn’t take Harry very long to decide that he
wasn’t going to give too much thought to the situation right now, lest he drive
himself mad.  He did, however, track down a memory comprised of searching and
paranoia from his trip into the Department of Mysteries, and used that to
create a kind of ward all the way around the Demon Door, which should alert him
to any activity involving it without his having to charge an Aspect with
constantly babysitting.
And then it was time to begin constructing the reception rooms.
The first thing he did was mentally conjure a model of the rooms that he wanted
so that they could get it just right before they started building.  The scale
model was a simple matter of thought to create and modify, and Harry decided in
the process that if he was ever going to design a house in the real world, he
was coming here to plan it.
With Protectiveness and Paranoia leading the design of the security, Cunning
coming up with the best ways to combine it all without making it any more
apparent than they wished, and Ambition pushing them all to take everything one
step further whenever possible, while Logic kept it from getting too out of
hand and Loyalty mitigated the inevitable arguments, Harry designed, discussed,
and redesigned the model.  Progress was swift, and Harry again found himself
filled with a sense of accomplishment.  Even though he hardly felt like he was
doing this alone, he knew that he actually was.  The Aspects of his
subconscious may be capable of functioning fairly independently within the
realm of the traits they encompassed, but truly they were all Harry.  And he
was so much smarter than he’d ever thought.  Apparently, he just hadn’t been
able to utilize his mind effectively.  Between suppressing so much of himself
and the general clutter in his head, his mind had never been very efficient. 
Until now, anyway.
It took about four hours for them to finalize – well, for now – the design,
which left a couple of hours to begin construction.
Unfortunately, “construction” was nowhere near as easy as demolition.  These
rooms couldn’t be built with knowledge as the previous structure.  Knowledge,
in his mental world, wasn’t powerful enough.  The entire thing would have to be
constructed of memory.  Well, the furnishings inside could be knowledge, but
the walls, ceilings, floors, and anything else that he didn’t want a visiting
or invading mind to penetrate had to be crafted of memories – the more powerful
the better.
And so the work began by forging memories into the desired building materials
and layering them into the security they’d decided upon.  For once, his painful
life was proving beneficial, as it allowed him to construct defenses much more
secure than most people his age would have been able to manage.  Happy memories
could be very powerful, but they weren’t as much of a deterrent as pain, fear,
despair, and grief.  Those were things that pretty much anyone alive
instinctively recoiled from, and that added an extra layer of protection.  Of
course, Knowledge did have a theory about truly powerful love being just as
dangerous for its ability to ensnare and bedazzle, but that was purely academic
speculation considering Harry’s literally infantile understanding of love.
He finally was able to cease his labors when Knowledge informed him that he’d
estimated it was nearly time for him to wake up.  They didn’t want to risk him
being abruptly awoken while handling a volatile memory.  Not only could that
damage their progress, but Harry could end up being thrown in a waking
nightmare of perfect recollection of the painful memory.  Given the physical
pain and emotional upset to which he knew he’d wake regardless, adding to that
seemed like a good way to push him over the edge into accidental magic or at
least a furious rant at his “dear” family.  Either possibility would be
unfortunate, so Harry stopped work.
He didn’t leave just yet though.  He knew what awaited him when he woke up. 
Pain from his tormented back.  He was in no hurry to return to that.  Instead,
he just sat down with Logic, Loyalty, Knowledge, and Cunning and talked through
the coming day, trying to ready himself for the pain and anger so that he could
deal with it.
===============================================================================
4 July 1996 - Thursday
Not long after that, he was woken by his aunt’s strident voice outside the door
demanding that he get up and make breakfast.  He was much, muchcalmer and more
centered than the day before thanks to his deliberate preparation and the fact
that he hadn’t been woken in the midst of an emotionally tortuous exercise in
self-improvement.
That unnatural calm in the face of his relatives and his pain lasted throughout
the day, and Harry silently asked Knowledge to remind him to start every day
that way.  His work on his emotions might have contributed to his improved
calm, but he was sure that his preparation had done the lion’s share.  Though
he was still incredibly annoyed with his situation, he was much more capable of
dealing with it.  Life in general would be greatly improved for him if he was
able to duplicate this sense of calm.
That evening, shortly after dark, Hedwig returned from her trip to Gringotts –
he had, of course, instructed her not to come back during daylight hours.  The
Dursleys didn’t want to risk any of the neighbors seeing something as unnatural
as a pet owl flying in and out of windows during the day.
Harry nervously opened the package that she carried.  There was a darkly
stained wooden box inscribed with runes.  It had a hinged cover and some kind
of crest on it that he didn’t recognize.  He didn’t look into that too closely
before opening the letter that had been stuck to the top.
     Mr. Potter,
     Gringotts is, of course, pleased to accommodate your request.  This
     box is spelled to access your trust vault.  To use it, you must press
     your thumb to the latch.  It will take a single drop of blood to
     validate your identity.  Then you must simply speak what you wish in
     the format of “[amount]galleons” or “[amount]British Pounds”.  Other
     muggle currencies may be accessed in the same manner.  The requested
     value will be transferred automatically to your box.  If the amount
     is in galleons or more than would fit within the box, it will arrive
     in an expanded bag and a fee of three galleons will be charged to
     your account.  Empty, undamaged bags may be returned for a refund of
     the fee by simply placing them inside the box and closing the lid.
     If you wish to pass correspondence to me, you may also do so with
     this box.  To do so, open the box without requesting anything, place
     your missive inside, then close the box and speak “Account Manager
     Orblok”.  Your missive will be instantly delivered to the In Box on
     my desk, though please account for my working hours in expecting a
     response.  The box will not function for anyone other than yourself. 
     If you wish to add another user, you must bring the individual to the
     bank directly to make that arrangement.  Should anyone other than you
     attempt to force the magic of the box, I will be notified and will
     pass the notice on to you immediately.  The enchantment on the box
     will be rendered inert and you will have to request another box or
     bring this one to Gringotts to be reset.
     As per your request, I have included a full accounting of your vaults
     with this missive.  That is the blank parchment.  To read it, you
     must apply a single drop of blood to the corner of the parchment to
     confirm your identity.
     There is another matter that I would like to discuss with you if you
     can spare the time to visit the bank this summer.  It is in regard to
     the will of Sirius Orion Black.  Due to Lord Black’s legal status at
     the time of his death, his will has been automatically sealed.  That
     means that any and all beneficiaries are being notified individually
     and confidentially.  You will have to visit the bank and sign the
     appropriate documents in order to claim your inheritance.  I have
     attempted to notify you previously, but my owls were unable to reach
     you.  It is my hope that your owl may be more successful.
     If you are able to meet with me, please respond via this box with a
     time and date that would work for you.
     Potter House Accounts Manager
     Orblok
     Gringotts Bank
     London Branch
 
 
***** Double-Edged Swords *****
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 3
                              Double-Edged Swords
5 July 1996 - Friday
     To People Concerned For My Welfare,
     I do not feel safe at Privet Drive.  Not safe from Death Eaters or
     Voldemort or the Dursleys.  I don’t expect anyone to believe that. 
     If I did, I’d have sent a letter asking to leave instead of just
     leaving.  At this point, it doesn’t really matter if anyone believes
     me or not.  I’m safe now.  Please, don’t worry for me too much.  I
     know what I’m doing.
     I’ll be on the train September 1st.
     Harry Potter
===============================================================================
 
The first three days after leaving Privet Drive, Harry spent at a hostel in
London.  After taking the train to the city, he took four busses, two taxis,
and walked a couple of kilometers to make sure he wouldn’t be easily tracked. 
Then he found a hostel and locked himself in his room.
Those first three days, he did little more than sleep and eat while his health
recovered from a very long two weeks with the Dursleys.  He was not idle in his
sleep, however.  The long hours of unconsciousness gave his body ample time to
heal while he worked to organize and protect his mind, to free his core, and to
overcome a lifetime of issues the Dursleys had bred into him.  It was
stressful, but the steady, if slow, progress became more apparent each
morning.  It was enough encouragement to keep him going at it.
When even his exhausted body balked at more sleep, Harry spent his time
venturing out to the nearest market to buy more food or rereading his old
course books, attempting to actually understand them this time.  Not too
surprisingly, with a firm determination to learn and Knowledge free and clear
for the first time in so long, Harry felt like he was learning a lot.  It was
surprising, however, to realize just how much he’d actually managed to notlearn
the first time.  Particularly considering that he’d actually passed all of his
classes.  Okay, well he wasn’t sure if he’d passed them all in his OWLs.  He’d
fallen asleep in History, pretty much skipped the second half of Astronomy
thanks to that whole situation with McGonagall and Hagrid, and…  Well, he may
have done enough to appease Trelawney, but he wasn’t sure that he’d ever
actually learned anythingin Divination.
Still, he did feel decently confident about the other core classes.  Even
Potions, he thought, he hadn’t done too badly.  Without Snape there distracting
him, he thought he’d done pretty well.
Thinking about next year’s classes got him thinking about what he was going to
do if he actually survived Voldemort and had to worry about a career.  Those
thoughts led him to spending some time in his ever-growing mental library,
looking through the career information that he’d barely glanced at last year. 
He’d been too full of rage and self-pity to care last year, but with all the
work he’d been doing to get his mind into order, he’d started to realize that
planning to have a future might just be the best way to live long enough to
have one.  He needed something to live for.  He needed to be doing something
that made him feel like life extended beyond the war.
Since he was sleeping so much more, he found some time to practice his dueling
with Courage and Protectiveness.  It was a bit of a challenge until Harry
managed to put together a dueling hall.  It was built of his knowledge and
memories of the way that the world worked, and it prevented him from
accidentally controlling his mental world to cheat in the duels.
As he looked through the career information, Harry soon discovered a few areas
of interest that he’d never before even begun to consider.  Healing, he found
quite intriguing, and he suspected that his Saving People Thing would be
greatly appeased by it.  Enchanting was a process of creating or modifying
objects with sustained magic.  Racing brooms, invisibility cloaks, Moody’s eye,
the Sorting Hat, the portraits – those were all examples of enchanted items. 
That appealed to him because it was interesting, versatile, and had so many
possibilities.  He couldn’t imagine that he’d ever get bored with it.
Another interest was Warding.  Though he wasn’t sure if he’d be happy being a
Wardmaster as a career, it was certainly something that he’d like to learn more
about.  Some Wardmasters worked for places like Gringotts.  Some worked for the
Ministry – they could use some more good ones, judging by how six fourth and
fifth year students had penetrated the Department of Mysteries.  There was also
a large private sector for Wardmasters.  The good ones apparently made good
money warding businesses and private homes.
And those were only four careers of many that seemed interesting.  Harry
couldn’t believe that he’d been so stupid last year as to not pay any real
attention to this.  It had been so difficult for him to think of the future
beyond Voldemort.  Painful, really, since most of him didn’t think he’d live
through it.  But if that’s really how he was going to approach it, he may as
well just give up now and be done with it, because he’d never win if he didn’t
think it was even possible.  Now that he suspected he’d found the mysterious
“Power” that would be his secret weapon, he was finally able to embrace the
idea that he might survive.  And he meant to actually start living.  Now.
There was, unfortunately, one glaring problem with his career interests. 
Before one could enter into training or apprenticeships post-Hogwarts, one
needed to have the required NEWTs.  All of the careers he was interested in
required Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, or both.
So…  Seeing as Harry hadn’t taken Ancient Runes or Arithmancy, not one of his
first choices in career was a possibility.  If he really wanted to go into any
of them, he’d have to hire tutors and take the NEWTs at the Ministry when he
was ready after graduation.  Only then would he be able to properly start
studying toward the career of his choice.
It took Logic and Loyalty almost a solid mental hour to get Harry to stop
raving furiously about not having any kind of career advice prior to choosing
his electives for third year.  Eventually, he was forced to concede that they
probably assumed they could count on the parents to talk to their kids about it
and help – or command – them to choose proper classes.  Of course, muggleborns
would have to do independent study into the subject since their parents
wouldn’t know, but at least they might encourage them to think about it.  Ron’s
parents had probably been through it so many times that they hadn’t bothered,
or they’d assumed that he knew what he was supposed to pick.  Hermione had just
taken everything.
Harry hadn’t even realized the smallest portion of the point of those classes. 
To him, it had just been school.  He hadn’t even considered how it would affect
his life later.  No one had ever told him that it would.  Well, Hermione may
have mentioned something about it, but her general propensity to overestimate
the value of all academics had made it easy for Harry to laugh off her claims. 
He’d chosen his classes for third year based on what sounded “fun” and “easy”
and what Ron felt like taking.
And now he was paying for it.
Harry didn’t consider for even a minute curtailing his future career choice
based on his mistake made when he was twelve.  He refused to spend the rest of
his life regretting that.  No, he had enough money to put off getting a job
after school and to hire any necessary tutors.  He could do independent study
to get himself started, and formally learn those things after Hogwarts, but he
absolutely refused to go into a more mundane career just because he was an
idiot at twelve.  Well, it wasn’t entirely his fault.  It was unforgiveable
that Hogwarts didn’t offer some kind of coaching for muggleborn or muggle-
raised students specifically.  They couldn’t expect preteens to have the
forethought to figure everything out on their own. 
Until just now, Harry hadn’t ever really thought about most of the magical
occupations.  In addition to those he was most interested in, there were some
obvious ones like Potions Master, which required only an A in Arithmancy and O
in Herbology.  Defense Mastery, which required an A in transfigurations,
Charms, and Potions.  Basically any subject could be mastered in with an A or
sometimes an O in the most closely related subjects.  Such Masters were usually
teachers, tutors, researchers, and writers.  Then there were things like
tailors, cobblers, chandlers, armorers, specialized enchanters (such as trunk
makers and clothiers), lawyers and legal aides, journalists, secretaries and
personal assistants, chefs, writers…  There were as many careers in the magical
world as the muggle world.  Some were almost the same in both and others were
completely unique to the magical world.  And, of course, there was everything
in between.
And all that Hogwarts offered were a few pamphlets and fifteen minutes to
discuss it with your head of house.  In fifthyear.  That may be enough for
wizardborn students, but again, muggleborns were forced to do a lot of
independent study if they wanted to really know anything about their options. 
It seemed like the more Harry thought about the magical world, the more he
realized just how unsympathetic it was toward the muggleborns that made up a
quarter of its population.
It wasn’t fair at all.  But then, as Logic was keen to remind him, life is not
fair.  Assuming that it should be would result only in self-pity and anger, and
would accomplish nothing.  Getting passed that Gryffindor misconception was one
of the things Harry was working on in his self-therapy sessions.
Harry’s fourth day on his own saw an owl from Dumbledore tapping at the window
of his hostel.  He was just about to take the letter from it when Paranoia
shouted at him about portkeys and tracking charms.
With that in mind, Harry shooed the owl away and left the hostel that day.  It
also made him realize just how vulnerable he was despite being out of the
wizarding world.  He had no protection against any of what he could only guess
were many magical means of tracking, and that didn’t even take into account
things like portkeys being delivered via owl.
That day, Harry went shopping in Muggle London.  Thanks to his direct line to
his vault and the ability to request muggle currency courtesy of Gringotts,
Harry was able to replace the disgraceful excuse for a muggle wardrobe provided
by the Dursleys with a collection of the nicest clothing he’d ever owned in his
life.  Luckily, a large amount of money and a willingness to spend it had made
the salespeople in the clothing shops incredibly accommodating.  He just hoped
that they had a good fashion sense, because he was completely lost when it came
to knowing what to buy beyond just finding something that fit comfortably.  The
salespeople, on hearing that, gladly plied him with a wide variety of clothing
and sent him into the changing rooms over and over and over again.
By the end of that day, Harry was exhausted, irritable, and – hopefully – very
well dressed.  He found a different hostel that night.  The following day, he
went out again.  This time, he got his hair cut so that it hung tastefully
tousled instead of as an unmanageable mess.  He also had it dyed a dark brown
with lighter highlights instead of black.  Then he stopped by an optometrist
and replaced his glasses with ones that – amazingly – actually allowed him to
see things more clearly than he had thought was possible.  He’d never before
guessed just how bad his eyesight was even with his glasses, but he now
suspected that he’d be able to clearly read the board in every classroom, even
from the back.  That would be a nice change.  Maybe he wouldn’t fail potions
this year – assuming he’d done well enough on his OWL to even take the class. 
In addition to the small, silver-framed, rectangular glasses, he got a variety
of contacts, both clear and colored blue, hazel, and brown.  He liked his
natural eye color, not least because he got it from his mum, but considering
how well-known he was and how distinctive his bright green eyes were, he
figured changing them would be a very good thing when he didn’t want to be
recognized.
Finally, though it challenged his masculinity to do it, Logic talked him into
visiting a cosmetics shop.  After showing his scar to the lady working there,
and explaining how self-conscious it made him, she happily sat him down and
experimented with makeup for half an hour before finding the perfect cover-up. 
The scar was too defined to disappear completely under the makeup, but between
that and his fringe, he was confident that only a close inspection would reveal
it.  He bought enough of the concealer to last the summer and next if he wanted
– with luck, he’d be able to find a charm to keep it matched to his skin tone
as his tan faded.
At the end of the day, Harry settled in yet another hostel, across London from
the previous, and examined himself as critically as he could.  With lighter
hair, brown eyes, and the scar concealed, as well as the nice muggle clothing
and no glasses, Harry strongly suspected that even those he knew best would
have to get a good look at him before they’d recognize him.  It also helped
that two weeks in the sun had left his complexion notably darker than usual now
that the bright red burns had faded.
===============================================================================
11 July 1996 - Thursday
On the morning of his sixth day since leaving Privet Drive, Harry took two
busses to Charing Cross Road and walked to the Leaky Cauldron.  Doing his best
to avoid self-consciously flattening his fringe over his forehead – a tell
quite a few people would probably recognize, not to mention that it may well
draw eyes toward his forehead that would not have otherwise gone there – Harry
entered the tavern.  He tried to act as casual as possible, like he was just an
average muggleborn or halfblood who’d come through here plenty of times.
Harry had some things that he needed, but he wanted to be in and out as quickly
as possible.  He’d worked it all out in his head before leaving for Diagon
Alley.  He didn’t waste any time in going directly to the trunk store.  There,
he bought the premade trunk that most closely fit his desires.  It was four
compartments, including potions, wardrobe, library, and basic storage.  The
interior was expanded and it was feather-light, but most importantly, it had a
shrinking charm built into it so that he could use the function without using
magic during the summer.  Hauling his old trunk around Muggle London with him
was not only an inconvenience, but a powerful identifier for anyone looking for
him.  Plus, after his clothes shopping, he’d barely been able to fit everything
into his old trunk.  If he started buying books, there was no way he could fit
it all, much less lift it to move it.  And, of course, the password protected
lock was another bonus.  He really didn’t want to chance a curious muggle
peeking inside and finding magical stuff.
After leaving with his new trunk shrunk down in his pocket, Harry made a quick
stop at the stationery store to replenish his quills, ink, and parchment so
that he could do his summer assignments and still have more for anything else
he wanted to do.
After that, he went to a robe shop that he’d never visited before.  He had no
doubt that Madam Malkin would see through his disguise, and he didn’t want to
risk her spreading word of his new look.  With his current olive complexion,
he’d just stand out more with blond or red hair, so he wouldn’t be able to
change that again.
He very quickly found out why he’d never been in this shop before.  It was
apparently a very high-end place that Harry was sure neither Hagrid nor the
Weasleys had ever been into.  And seeing as he’d always gone shopping with
them, it made sense that they hadn’t come here even though Harry could afford
it.  He’d wait to get his Hogwarts robes, since he was pretty sure this shop
didn’t sell them – he remembered meeting Malfoy in Malkin’s, and he would never
have been there if he could have been here.  What he wanted now was a casual
wizarding wardrobe.  Passing as a muggleborn worked, but if Harry really wanted
to blend in and further separate himself from Harry Potter, he needed robes.
The man inside sneered at his muggle clothes in a way that highly suggested he
dealt almost exclusively with purebloods or halfbloods that leaned toward the
wizarding roots.  Harry just met him with a smile – he was finding more and
more uses for his long-suppressed Slytherin side. 
“Hello, young sir,” the snooty man said with cautious politeness that Harry was
sure would disappear in an instant should he prove that he couldn’t afford what
the man sold.  “My name is Haman Guilder.  How may I assist you today?”
“Fashion sense has never been one of my talents,” he admitted straight off,
“which is why I’ve come to you, Mister Guilder.  I usually have my robes done
by a personal tailor; unfortunately, we’ve recently had some… disagreements. 
Until I can secure another, I shall have to trust my image to you.  I’ve heard
good things.  I hope you can live up them.”
The man had relaxed into a more pleasant image while listening to Harry’s best
impersonation of Malfoy.  “I shall certainty endeavor to do so, Mr…?”
“Smith,” Harry threw out dismissively.  He knew from school that the Smiths
were an expansive pureblood family with many lines from well-off to filthy
rich.  They had their fingers in just about everything in the wizarding world
if half of what he’d heard mentioned was right.  It was part of the reason
Zacharias was such a prat.  He was from one of the wealthier branches of the
family.  The name allowed Harry to insinuate that he was likely rich, probably
pureblooded, despite his attire, and such a large family would make it hard for
anyone to know half of the members.  And if this man was busy trying to put
together which branch of the Smith family he came from, he wouldn’t be looking
too closely at any resemblance to Harry Potter.  He was really coming to love
Knowledge for his ability to compile errant data floating around in his head
and Cunning for putting it together so… well… cunningly.
“What are you interested in today, Mr. Smith?” Guilder asked, now the picture
of graciousness.
“I’m afraid I’ve recently suffered a bit of a growth spurt,” Harry smiled with
only his lips.  “I probably should have come before I’d outgrown the majority
of my wardrobe, but I was hoping to secure a personal tailor sooner.  I expect
I’ll grow more this summer, so I’ll make due with just a few things for now. 
Let’s say… a dozen casual robes, three business-cut, and just one set of dress
robes, I think.  And while I’m here, I may as well pick up cloaks.  Let’s go
with three, one for each style.”  Harry was small for his age, but Guilder
didn’t know his age, so he could go ahead and assume Harry a year or two
younger and tall for his age instead.
As expected, the only questions that the man had from that point were about
cut, color, and material.  The wardrobe was a little larger than Harry thought
he really needed, but he’d added a few more robes once he’d realized what this
man would expect.  He had no doubt that Malfoy would think he was practically
destitute with only fifteen sets of robes.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford
it anyway, even at the higher prices of this store, and it would be nice to
have plenty of comfortable clothes for a change.  He also thought the business
cut robes might come in handy if he wanted to look professional.  He wished
he’d had something of the sort when he’d had to go to the ministry for his
trial last summer.
Again, Knowledge had helped him out a lot by compiling information that he’d
overheard but never really paid attention to in the common room and the dorm
while his fellow Gryffindors – the purebloods and some of the halfbloods mostly
– argued about clothes.  Cuts, materials, colors, seasonal styles, practical
versus attractive, etc.  His admission to having little fashion sense helped,
but any rich pureblood would know someabout robes.
Thanks to Master Guilder’s tailoring expertise, he was able to get all sixteen
robes and three cloaks chosen, tailored to a perfect fit, and ready to take
with him when he left two and a half hours later.
Carefully concealing his relief to be out of that store, Harry, now dressed in
a set of casual robes that even he knew were nicer than ninety percent of those
worn by Hogwarts students, made his way to his last and most important stop of
the day.  Books.  Since he’d very rarely been recognized or addressed by name
at Flourish and Blotts, he didn’t worry about being recognized there now that
he was properly disguised. 
Another two hours and nearly five hundred galleons later, Harry again gave
thanks for the brilliance of feather-light and shrinking charms as he tucked
his trunk into his pocket and made his way to Gringotts.  He’d had to rush a
bit at the end there, but he made it just in time for his appointment.
“Yes?” the goblin at the counter glared at Harry when he approached.
Harry gave him the same pleasant smile that he’d been using all day, and
replied smoothly, “I have an appointment with Accounts Manager Orblok.”
The goblin eyed him briefly, flipped a few papers on his desk, and then looked
over his shoulder.  “Render will take you back.”
So Harry followed another grumpy goblin into the labyrinth of corridors beyond
the main lobby and shortly found himself at a door inscribed with unfamiliar
runes that Harry assumed were gobbledegook.  The door opened shortly after
Render knocked and an older goblin behind the desk gave Harry the first smile
he’d ever seen from one of their kind.
“Heir Potter,” he said almost pleasantly.  “Please, have a seat and we can
begin.”  Pleasant, perhaps, but clearly still not given to pleasantries.
Harry took a silent breath and worked to clear his mind.  He’d spent his entire
last self-therapy session preparing for this and he was fairly sure that he’d
be able to get through it without breaking down.  He took the offered seat and
Orblok unrolled a scroll on the desk in front of him.
“The late Lord Black has named you his heir, Heir Potter,” Orblok began
directly, black eyes on the scroll in front of him.  “There is no age
stipulation set, which means that you may assume the lordship and Head of
Family status today if that is your wish.”  He looked up at that, brow raised
inquiringly.
Harry blinked.  “Ah.  I’m sorry, but I’m not entirely sure what that means or
how I would go about it,” he admitted.
Orblok gave a simple nod in return.  “I suspected such may be the case.  It is
rare for an heir to not be trained in all that this entails from early
childhood, but it does happen very occasionally.  The duties of each family
Lord vary based upon the family involved, but some things are universal.  The
Family Vault and all it contains, minus what your predecessor has willed
elsewhere, will go to you.  I have prepared an accounting of the vault contents
for your perusal.  All properties, shares and contracts, and other resources of
the family not specifically entailed away will also go to you.  All of the
Black Family holdings that are now yours are detailed here.”  He passed a thick
scroll across the desk to Harry, and continued. 
“Upon assuming the Lordship, you will acquire the ability to recognize or
disown family members.  Disowning will cut an individual entirely from the
family.  He or she will no longer have the right to claim the family name and
the individual’s spouse and current or future children, grandchildren, etc.,
will be likewise severed from all family ties.  Access to family wards, funds,
and resources will be removed. 
“Alternately, you may recognize family members that have previously been
disowned, granting them the right to claim the family name and access to wards,
funds, resources, and anything else tied specifically to the family.  You may
also recognize others through family adoption.  That adoption is not inherently
recognized by your Ministry, but it will be recognized by the family magic. 
That is the means through which you became the late Lord Black’s heir.  To do
so, you must only speak the ritual phrase, similar to a wand oath.  The spouses
of all family members must be recognized by the current Lord in order to be a
part of the family.  If the spouse is recognized, any children resultant from
that union will automatically be family.  If the spouse is not recognized, any
children must be individually acknowledged if you wish them a part of the
family.  In this manner, you have some influence over the spouses taken by any
member of your family.  Should you not approve, you may refuse to recognize
them and the children produced by the union.  You may also disown the family
member for that offense if you wish.”
Harry was incredibly happy to know that Knowledge was logging all of this
information safely away so that he didn’t have to worry about forgetting
anything.
“As Lord, you are also entitled to the family seat on the Wizengamot, and I
believe, the Black Family may own a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors as
well.  I know that the Potter family does.”
Harry opened the scroll he’d been given and let his eyes briefly slide over
each page while he listened, silently asking Knowledge to go over it and let
him know of anything pertinent to the conversation at hand.  Thus far, he was
going with Logic’s advice to let all of this information slide over him and not
give too much thought to any of it lest he become overwhelmed.  There would be
plenty of time to sort it all out tonight, and Knowledge would inform him of
anything that should be addressed before leaving today.  After glancing down
the scroll, he rolled it up and tucked it into his pocket, then focused again
on the goblin who’d not paused in his explanation.
“As Lord, you will be expected to marry and produce an heir within a reasonable
amount of time.  The exact timeframe varies from family to family, but that is
more of a very strong suggestion than anything binding.  Unless there is an
existing marriage contract.”
Harry’s brow rose at that last bit.  “How would I determine if such a contract
exists?”
“All marriage contracts in Britain are filed at Gringotts, and most at the
Ministry as well.  Would you like me to check for you?”
“Yes, please.  For the Black and Potter families.”
“Of course,” Orblok nodded, sliding off his chair to move to a cabinet at the
back of the room.  He opened one of the doors and poked around inside and Harry
focused on not freaking out while he waited to see if he was betrothed without
knowing about it.  “There are no active contracts for either family,” the
goblin said at last, prompting Harry to sag slightly in relief.
“Still, tradition does dictate that an heir be produced somewhere between your
twentieth and thirtieth birthday,” Orblok added as he resumed his seat.  “And
given as you are to be head of two families, you will need to produce at least
one male child to take each upon passing of your title, be that upon your death
or before if you wish.”
A nudge from Cunning had Harry frowning.  “You said that there were no active
contracts,” he noted cautiously.  “Are there any inactive contracts?”
Orblok smiled rather disturbingly in response to the question.  “Very astute,
Heir Potter.”  He rose again and returned to the cabinet, then came back to his
desk a moment later with two scrolls.
Harry accepted the scrolls, making a mental note to never underestimate
goblins, no matter how pleasant they acted.  He wasn’t sure why Orblok had
apparently planned to withhold this information, but it wasn’t something he’d
soon forget.
Reminding himself to stay calm and let the information wash over him, Harry
opened the scrolls one at a time and scanned over them briefly, allowing
Knowledge to sort through the information more quickly than he would have been
able to process it in the waking world.
“I’m not familiar with the Prince family,” he noted as Knowledge imparted the
information to him succinctly.  Apparently, the Black and Prince families had a
contract almost sixty years old.  The initial intended union had been reneged
upon by the Prince side – no reason given.  The contract still existed, but was
inactive due to lack of suitable participants.
“It is an Ancient and Noble line, as is the Black line.  Like the Potter
family, however, it has been reduced to a single heir.  The reason that the
contract is inactive is because the heir came from a branch of the Prince
family that was disowned.  The heir himself was only recognized as part of the
family in the will of the last Lord.  He has yet to claim his inheritance or
his lordship.  Should he do so, the contract would become active.”
Harry frowned uncertainly and checked with Knowledge, but he didn’t seem to
know this.  “I’m sorry, but my muggle upbringing seems to be impairing me
again.  Are you suggesting that this contract would become active for this
Prince heir and me?”
“That is correct, Heir Potter, on the condition that you assumed the Black
Lordship.”
Harry narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.  “But the Prince heir is male?”
“Yes.  I believe I see what has confused you.  I am not familiar with such
customs in the muggle world, but in wizarding Britain same-sex marriages are
uncommon, but not considered unusual.  Magical surrogates make it possible for
same-sex couples to procreate without introducing outside blood.  It has been a
viable means of procreation for wizards for at least half a dozen centuries.”
Harry took a deep breath and told himself to examine his feelings on the gender
issue in more detail later.  “Okay.  So this means that if I were to accept the
Black lordship, and the Prince heir was to claim his, then this contract would
activate and I would be bound to marry this… man?”
“That is correct.”
Harry turned his focus inward to figure out how binding the contract would be. 
Unfortunately, Knowledge very quickly imparted that it was magically binding. 
The witch who originally reneged on the contract, someone named Eileen Prince,
would have lost most of her magic and been just slightly more than a squib
because of it.  Harry knew that the Black family was dark, but surely Orion
Black couldn’t have been so bad as to sacrifice her magic to stay away from
him.  Could he?
Perhaps she was in love with someone else and considered that love worth the
loss,Logic suggested.
Perhaps,Harry dubiously acknowledged.  He had to admit that he didn’t know
enough about love to even imagine that.  He didn’t have anything against
muggles in general, but he couldn’t imagine giving up his magic.  Harry hadn’t
really even thought about getting married yet, but surely it couldn’t be that
bad to submit to an arranged marriage.  Well, that depended on who the other
side of the marriage was, of course, but…
And then Knowledge passed on the information from the other contract that Harry
hadn’t examined closely enough to even note the names.
His mind came to a screeching halt when that bit hit him.
It wasn’t until the goblin cleared his throat that Harry snapped out of his
shock.  “Sorry,” he said vaguely.  He took a breath and pushed that information
and everything it entailed to the back of his mind with the help of Logic.  He
would devote some time to freaking out about that later.  “Would you, by
chance, have the name of the current heir of the Prince family?”
“That would be Severus Alexander Snape,” Orblok said without needing to check.
“Okay,” Harry nodded, immediately shuffling that information away with the
rest.  “So, what happens if I don’t claim the Black lordship, or if I want to
wait?”
“As per the edict of the family, you, as the stipulated heir, have one month
from the time of notification of eligibility – today – to claim the lordship or
it will be offered to the heir apparent.  In this case, that would be Draconis
Lucius Malfoy.  Should he accept the claim, you would lose all rights to it and
the family.”
“Very well,” Harry nodded blankly.  “And the other contract.  That one will
become active when I turn seventeen?”
“Or when you assume the Potter lordship.  Generally, that would be when you are
seventeen.  However, the introduction of the Black lordship can change that. 
Assuming a lordship automatically grants you the status of adult by magic and
law,” Orblok explained.  “As soon as that is done, you will become eligible for
the Potter lordship.  At that point, the contract will become active.”
“And according to the contract, I will then have thirty days to conclude
negotiations and complete the bonding ceremony,” Harry nodded, using every bit
of his mental discipline to keep himself calm.  “The bride price.  Is a quarter
of a million galleons a common bride price?”
“No,” Orblok said at once.  “Given the financial status of the bride’s family
in this case, a tenth of that would be acceptable, but as little as five
thousand would not be seen an insult.  Anything over fifty thousand would
probably be considered exorbitant.”
“So, it’s not so much a bride price as a bribe,” Harry concluded.
“That would be speculation, but a reasonable one,” Orblok allowed.
Harry clenched his trembling hands as he asked Knowledge to confirm it a third
time, but there was no doubt.  There had been four signatures on that
contract.  Dumbledore.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.  And Ginny.  She knew.  She’d
signed the contract two years ago.  And it was just as binding as the other
contract.  Marry or become a squib.
“Is there any way out of the contract without losing my magic?” Harry asked,
though he couldn’t see any.  “Can it really be that binding without my
consent?”
“It is, Heir Potter.  Your magical guardian signed the contract for you.  By
millennia old pureblood edict, you are bound to the contract.  Your only means
of evading it would be to relinquish your blood right to the Potter lordship. 
If you choose to do so or fail to assume the lordship within one year of being
informed of your eligibility, by stipulation of the last Lord Potter, the
entirety of the estate will go to Albus Dumbledore, or in the case of his death
before assuming it, he has entailed it to the Weasley family.
“Of course,” Orblok added musingly, “If the Black-Prince contract were
activated, the greater status of both families would negate the second
contract.”
“Did Dumbledore or the Weasleys know about the Black-Prince contract when the
Potter-Weasley contract was created?” Harry wondered.
“I do not believe so.  The only one who has viewed the Black-Prince contract in
the last twenty years is Severus Snape when he came to claim his lordship. 
After learning of the contract, he chose not to claim the lordship at the
time.”
Harry nodded.  He could very easily understand Snape turning down his rightful
lordship rather than being forced to marry Sirius.  He was willing to bet,
however, that Snape did not know that Harry had claim to the Black lordship
now.
“So I have to marry Severus Snape or Ginny Weasley or lose both inheritances,”
Harry sighed.  Rock, meet Hard Place.  “I need to think about this,” he
admitted.  “Can I speak with you again tomorrow?”
“Certainly, Heir Potter.  Shall I set the appointment for the same time?”
“Please,” Harry nodded.  He was just getting up to leave when Cunning nudged
him again.  “Is there a reason that you didn’t immediately divulge the inactive
contracts to me when I asked about them?” he paused to inquire.
That disturbing smile that made Orblok look like a dangerous predator returned
in response to the question.  “Headmaster Dumbledore specifically instructed
that you not be informed of the contract until it became active.  As your
magical guardian, it is his right to do so.  As your Account Manager, however,
it is my duty to honestly answer any question directly asked of me.  In this,
your authority subsumed his due to your greater value to Gringotts.”
Harry just nodded.  Not only had Dumbledore signed a marriage contract without
his permission or knowledge, but he’d actively worked to keep that knowledge
from him until he’d have been well and truly trapped by it.  That was good to
know.  “Thank you, Master Orblok.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As he left the bank, Harry firmly tucked all of this world altering information
away deeply in his mind.  If he thought about it now, he’d either start
screaming, crying, or go completely catatonic – none of which would be ideal
while trying not to draw attention to himself in the middle of Diagon Alley.
He stopped in the Leaky Cauldron to visit the loo and take off his robes and
tuck them into his trunk, then let himself back into Muggle London, and walked
to the bus stop.  He could afford a taxi, but he was a little worried about
someone who was looking for him in Muggle London having the forethought to
check into taxis specifically going to and from the area of the Leaky
Cauldron.  It was highly unlikely given how little most of them knew about the
muggle world, but he preferred to not take unnecessary risks.
When he got back to his hostel, he packed all of his old things into his new
trunk.  Though he had some sentimental attachment to his old trunk, it was too
large to fit it into his new trunk, and hauling around the empty trunk wouldn’t
be all that much better than when it had been full.  And there really wasn’t
anything special about it, being the standard, off-the-rack Hogwarts special. 
So, he regretfully left it in a dumpster behind the hostel after prying his
initials off it, then boarded a bus again.
He was a little worried that someone might be onto him staying in hostels, or
they might guess that he would be if they didn’t know that he had a direct line
to his vault.  With that in mind, he went to a hotel – a nice one, though not
the best.  He got a suite under the name Elliot Johnson – randomly selected for
the fact that it wasn’t anything one could trace to him – and closed himself
into the rooms.  
He didn’t bother to unpack or undress before throwing himself across the bed
and finally letting his mind stray to the revelations of the day.  He couldn’t
decide if he should be more heartbroken or furious about Dumbledore’s
betrayal.  The Weasleys’ betrayal.  He desperately wanted to know if Ron or the
twins were aware of it.  Or Hermione, for that matter, though he doubted that
she’d have anything to do with it.  Her innate, muggle-bred sense of what was
right would have strenuously objected to the very concept of an arranged
marriage, even one established with the knowledge and consent of the subjects. 
She’d probably have an aneurism when she found out what had been done to him. 
It would be SPEW all over again.
Harry couldn’t be so sure about Ron or Fred and George.  They were purebloods,
so they probably wouldn’t have anything innately against an arranged marriage. 
And, they were Weasleys.  They might have been convinced by that ridiculously
exorbitant bride price that had probably convinced Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 
Ginny…  Well, she’d had a crush on him since long before she’d even met him. 
It probably hadn’t taken all that much to convince her to go along with it,
unfortunately.  He hoped, at least, that neither the Potter fortune nor name
had anything to do with it.  It didn’t mean that he approved of her going
behind his back to rope him into marriage, but at least it would be based on
emotion rather than greed.
His eyes burned, but he didn’t cry.  Maybe he was too angry to cry.  His mind
kept swinging back around to all the ways he wanted to get even with everyone
involved.  Most of all, he knew that he’d do almost anything to prevent them
from getting away with it.
The real question was…  Did that involve marrying Snape?  The very idea made
him cringe, but at least Snape wasn’t plotting to use him or steal his
inheritance.
He needed more information about exactly what an arranged marriage entailed. 
With that in mind, he finally got off the bed and enlarged his trunk.  He dug
around in his new books until he found the three on pureblood customs and
etiquette that he’d picked up.  He piled them on the bedside table and started
going through them one at a time.  He didn’t try to read them.  He just looked
at each page one at a time the way he’d done with the documents at Gringotts,
allowing Knowledge to absorb the information.
Once he’d gone through all three, he laid down again, and used the exercises
he’d been practicing to put himself to sleep.  It took a little while with his
current stress, but he eventually opened his eyes to his mental landscape.
His advisor Aspects were there waiting for him when he appeared in what he was
using as his self-therapy room at the moment.
“Okay,” he looked at Knowledge first.  “If I were to…” he swallowed and forced
himself to actually say it.  “If I were to marrySnape…  What would that
entail?”
“A minimum of three heirs,” Knowledge replied as he settled into his chair
across from Harry in the circle that they used for these meetings.  “One for
each noble family that you two represent.  Sexual intercourse would not be
required.”
Harry breathed a relieved sigh at that.
“You would be required to keep mutual lodgings, though not bedchambers.  Your
fortunes would be connected, but separate.  Given that the families will be
split between your children when you pass on the lordships, it would be
expected for the family fortunes to remain independent.  As for tradition and
propriety, arranged marriages are common in the wizarding world.  Married
couples who do not even like each other are also relatively common, though most
learn to live amicably over time.  Regardless of your personal feelings, you
would dishonor all of your families if you were openly hostile toward each
other.  Public displays of affection are not in any way necessary, but you must
present a unified front, and at least pretend to get along.  Should anyone
speak ill of your spouse in public, you would be required to speak on his
behalf.  An insult to him is an insult to you and your families.  Infidelity is
not possible.
“Other than that, what goes on behind closed doors is not anyone’s business but
yours.  Whether you are desperately in love or barely manage to make it through
each day without killing each other does not matter.”
“Seems likely to be the latter,” Harry noted grimly.  “What about divorce?  Is
that an option at any point?”
Logic lifted an eyebrow.  “How many pureblood couples have you heard of getting
divorced?”
Harry frowned.  “None,” he admitted after a minute.
“That is because there are none,” Knowledge supplied.  “Divorce does not exist
in the magical world.  You are bound together for the extent of your mutual
lives.  Only as a widower may you ever remarry.  It is possibleto annul a
marriage, but only in very extreme circumstances, which usually result in blood
feuds.”
Harry grimaced, wondering how long it would take before Snape poisoned him. 
This might be harder than he thought.  “Okay, so we’re talking about a lifetime
commitment then.  Granted, with the war – me being me and him being a spy –
there’s a good chance one of us could be single again in a rather short time…”
“Best not to plan on that,” Logic noted.
Harry nodded.  Whether they were married or barely able to breathe the same air
– or both – he wasn’t going to wish Snape dead, not even to reclaim his own
freedom.  If he did go through with this, he would go into it planning for the
long haul.
“What do you guys think about this?” he asked quietly after a minute.
Logic spoke first, “It is your best option.  You don’t want Malfoy getting the
Black fortune, and you don’t want Dumbledore or the Weasleys getting the Potter
fortune.  That means that you have to marry.  Between a man with whom you share
a very strong mutual dislike and a girl who would trap you into marriage for
her own selfish purposes, the choice is not so difficult.  Also, there is the
fact that the Potter-Weasley contract was arranged for you whereas the Black-
Prince contract was created for someone else and merely fell to you.  You must
consider the likelihood that Dumbledore plans to get something from your
marrying Weasley.  Her family gets money, she gets you, but what does
Dumbledore get?  It may be best to avoid finding that answer the hard way.”
Harry nodded.  It was really hard to argue with Logic.
“Snape would be a beneficial marriage,” Ambition noted.  “The Prince family is
Ancient and Noble – therefore powerful and probably wealthy.  He’ll have his
own seat on the Wizengamot that you may sit in his stead should he permit it. 
Furthermore, Snape is respected in circles that you are not.  He is a brilliant
potions master, even if he doesn’t excel at teaching it.  He is also the head
of Slytherin house at Hogwarts, and therefore respected by most Slytherins by
default, both past and present.  That is definitely one area in which you lack
support.”
“Let’s not forget that Snape is a spy,” Cunning put in.  “A marriage to you
would get him killed.  …or set him free,” he smirked slightly.
Harry winced.  Somehow, he’d not yet factored that in.
“I think we should consider the fact that Snape may have been trapped by
Dumbledore as well,” Cunning remarked.  “After today, we’re quite aware of the
lengths to which that man will go to get his way.  Is it not possible that
Snape got trapped into being a spy thanks to that old man’s manipulations?  We
can’t count on it, but it’s possible that Snape will embrace this opportunity
to escape that position.  It can’t be pleasant.  We’re all aware of how
Voldemort treats his minions, and that’s not even factoring in the very slow
and painful death Snape would face should his true loyalty ever be revealed.
“Though, that does assume that he really is a spy for the Light and not the
Dark.”
“Logically speaking,” Logic offered, “he has had many opportunities to deliver
you to Voldemort or to simply kill you.  Were he loyal to the Dark Lord, I
suspect that he’d have found a way to slip you a portkey in a way that didn’t
implicate him at some point since Voldemort returned.  He’s had more than
enough access to you and your possessions.”
Harry nodded.  That was true.  Even Cunning was nodding his agreement.
“And he didn’t have to protect you from Remus in your third year,” Loyalty
chipped in.  “Even though he apparently hates you, and though he had more
reason than usual to loathe you just then, when Remus transformed, he put
himself between you and an uncontrolled werewolf.”
Harry frowned as he remembered that.  That whole night had been so crazy, and
then Snape had helped to try to get Sirius Kissed, and he’d exposed Remus as a
werewolf…  Well, it had been sadly easy to focus on the horrible, vindictive
things that he’d done and forget all about that one moment in which the snarky
dungeon bat had done a remarkable impersonation of a Gryffindor.  To protect
Harry and his friends.
He sighed, but nodded.  “Okay.  I think it’s safe to say that Snape’s on our
side.”  And it did feel good to finally make up his mind about that based on
logical facts.  Even if it did mean that he’d been wrong in suspecting him of
something just about every year he’d attended Hogwarts.  “Any other thoughts
about the idea of marrying the git?”
Loyalty smiled, “I think there’s more to him than we know.”
“We know only one side of him,” Logic concurred.  “And I think it’s safe to say
that it’s his bad side, given the way he feels about us.”
Loyalty nodded.  “He may not be as bad as we think.  He does have cause to hate
Sirius and our father, after all.  And Remus.  No, it’s not fair that he’s
transferred that hatred to us, but it seems unlikely that he’ll be able to
maintain that level of hatred for the rest of our lives.  That would be
exhausting,” he smiled.  “I don’t think that there’s any chance Ron will
understand, particularly as you’re choosing Snape over Ginny, but I’m not sure
how much loyalty we even owe him right now.
“We know that Hermione will object to the concept of an arranged marriage, and
most likely waste half the year searching for a loophole to the contracts. 
It’s unlikely that one exists, but if it does, we’d almost certainly gravely
dishonor our families to pursue it.  She won’t blame us though.  Neville’s a
pureblood.  He probably won’t be comfortable, seeing as we’re talking about
Snape, but he’ll stand by us.  I don’t imagine that Luna will care at all, but
trying to anticipate her reactions to anything is probably foolish. 
Dumbledore, of course, will be furious that you evaded his plot, but I think
that’s a good thing.”
“Snape is intelligent and dangerous,” Protectiveness put in.  “If you marry
him, he will have no choice but to use both those traits to your benefit.”
“And he’s a Slytherin,” Cunning added.  “If we can make it beneficial enough of
an arrangement for him, I doubt he’ll be able to say no.”
“We do need to consider the Dark Mark though,” Logic contributed.  “If Snape
renounces Voldemort, that Mark could become a problem.  Whether an annoyance or
a slow descent into insanity – or even instant death – we don’t know.  Until we
can answer that question, we don’t know if this is in any way feasible.”
“Voldemort can’t kill through the Mark, and I doubt he can drive anyone insane
through it either,” Knowledge put in.
“Why’s that?” Harry wondered.
“Karkarov,” Knowledge shrugged.  “He was tracked down, caught, and tortured to
death over a month after Voldemort’s return.  If he could kill him through the
Mark, or drive him insane, why waste his limited resources tracking him down
and dragging him back?”
“Good point,” Harry nodded, encouraged by that.  “So…  Does this mean that
we’re going to marry Snape?” he grimaced faintly.  The concept still disturbed
him, but not quite as much as it had at the beginning of this conversation.
“It is the only logical choice,” Logic affirmed.
“It might not be so terrible,” Loyalty smiled encouragingly.
“Exponentially better than permanently tying ourselves and our families to
those gold-digging redheaded traitors,” Cunning grinned.
“It will open a lot of interesting doors,” Ambition agreed.
“We are backed into a corner,” Knowledge nodded.
“I don’t trust Dumbledore.  Distancing ourselves from him and his machinations
is only a good thing,” Protectiveness concurred.
Harry sighed heavily.  Holy shit.  They were really going to do this.  “Great. 
Now, I’ve just got to convince Snape to marry me.”
 
***** Knowledge is Powerful *****
===============================================================================
                                        
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 4
                             Knowledge is Powerful
12 July 1996 - Friday
“Greetings, Heir Potter,” Orblok smiled thinly as Harry took his seat in front
of the desk. 
“Hello, Master Orblok,” Harry nodded in return.  “What do I need to do to
accept the Black lordship?”
Orblok gave another one of his scary smiles.  “It is very simple, Heir Potter. 
All you need to do is put on the ring with the knowledge of what it means and
the desire to assume the lordship.”
Harry narrowed his eyes slightly.  “I assume, from what you told me yesterday
and some reading I’ve personally done on the subject since then that there is a
magical component to accepting the lordship and putting on the ring.  What can
I expect?”
“I only know what I’ve heard, having never assumed any wizarding lordship
myself,” the goblin replied with what Harry thought was a silent “duh” at the
end.  “In theory, it will align your magic with the magic of the Black family. 
You will definitely feel something from your magic when that happens.  What,
exactly, you will feel, I could not speculate.  Every time I have heard it
described, it has been done differently.  I’ve heard it called cold, hot,
slick, comforting, painful, and as a simple feeling of power.  Regardless of
the sensation you feel, it should last only moments.”  He looked thoughtful for
a moment, then added, “Considering that you are also undergoing magical
emancipation, you may expect your magic to change even more.  It is somewhat
rare for a lordship to be assumed by a minor, but I have never heard of it
being dangerous.”
Harry winced internally.  He seemed to have a habit of defying convention. 
There really was no telling what might happen.  It could be perfectly ordinary
and hardly of note, or he might level half of Gringotts.  He did, however,
consider that latter possibility highly unlikely and completely unnecessary to
voice.
“After our discussion yesterday, I took the liberty of bringing the Black ring
up from the vaults for your convenience.”  He opened a desk drawer and lifted a
black-lacquered wooden box onto the desktop.  He slid it across to Harry.
He recognized the Black Family crest and motto set into the lid of the box. 
Three ravens, a hand wielding a wand, and a skull set onto a black, white, and
blue shield – verycheerful.  And, of course, Toujours Pur.  Harry would need to
do more research to figure out if it would be appropriate for him to change the
family motto now that they were definitely no longer “Pure” with him at the
head of the family.
Resolute in his decision by now, Harry opened the box without hesitation. 
Inside was a shining platinum ring.  The stone appeared to be onyx with fine
platinum filigree embossed over it in the shape of a crow with a wand in one
talon and a tiny human skull in the other.  Altogether, a very cheerful bunch,
the Blacks.
Harry frowned slightly as he lifted the ring from the box and could literally
feel the magic tingling against his fingers.  He wasn’t sure if that was
because he was the recognized heir or if anyone could feel it, but he wasn’t
too concerned for that at the moment.  Before he could start to second-guess
his very rational decision, he slid the large ring onto his middle right
finger.
As soon as it was in place, he felt the metal tighten around the digit, and
then Orblok’s office was gone and Harry was in the parlor receiving room in his
mind.  Will, Protectiveness, Courage, and Paranoia stood in tight formation
around the back of his chair while Logic, Knowledge, Cunning, Ambition, and
Loyalty were arrayed in front of him.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked cautiously.
He’d barely gotten the words out before another chair appeared right in front
of him with an unfamiliar man seated in it.  He had almost violently blue eyes
– a dark royal blue – and long white hair.  Age had etched itself around his
eyes and mouth, but he didn’t look nearly as old as Dumbledore.  He was dressed
in what seemed to be extremely rich robes, though the style looked somewhat
archaic.
Harry started badly at the unexpected presence.  And then his eyes fell to the
man’s hands where he was twirling a familiar ring between his fingers.
“Hello, Heir Black,” the man said slowly, an odd cadence to his words.
“Are you one of the Black ancestors?” Harry asked carefully, eyeing the ring.
The man dipped his head slightly.  “I was Corvus, the first recognized Lord of
House Black.  I commissioned this ring, and enchanted it with a portion of
myself, as was tradition at the time.”
“Do you speak to all of the potential lords?”
“No,” the man chuckled.  “No, I have not had autonomy such as this since my
death.  Your mind and magicks are incredibly unique, young Heir.”
“Are you going to accept me?” Harry wondered.
The former lord lifted his gaze and his eyes traveled over each of the Aspects
around them.  “I do not like the idea of the Black Family leaving the
bloodline,” he admitted at last.  “But you have a bit of Black blood in you. 
Dorea, I believe.  Your grandmother?”
“Yes,” Knowledge supplied.  “Dorea married Charlus Potter, and bore James
Potter, who sired Harry Potter.”
The spirit smirked.  “Very unique.  Very powerful.  Intelligent.  Driven.  A
bit of Gryffindor,” he said with a faint sneer, “but I see more Slytherin and
Ravenclaw than anything here.”  His eyes settled on those behind Harry and the
approval there grew.  “You are a fighter.  A survivor.  A conqueror.  My family
has been nearly snuffed out of existence for the choices of the last few
Lords.  Always, we have been drawn to power.  In my time, it made us great.  In
recent times, it has nearly destroyed us.  Perhaps, instead of following Power,
it is time to lead with it.
“I find you acceptable, Heir Black, despite your less than pure blood.  Return
honor to the family.  Groom your heir well, and be sure he is prepared before
you pass the ring.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said carefully to the ancient wraith.
Corvus Black just smirked in reply and passed over the mental representation of
the ring.
Harry accepted it with a nod and slid it onto the same finger that he had in
the real world.  As soon as it settled into place, Harry felt a strange
stirring from his core and moved from the reception room to the Core Chamber
with a thought.  As soon as he arrived, he turned and shielded his eyes against
the blinding green light.
The entire room was trembling with what he could only describe as Power.  Harry
started as a black crow burst out of the ring on his finger and squinted
against the light to watch as the crow attacked his core.  He had just a moment
of panic before he realized that it wasn’t attacking his core.  It was
attacking the bindings on his core.  He’d managed to remove two ribbons, but
several more had remained.
The crow ripped at the bindings with his sharp talons and beak, screeching
furiously at them.
Finally, the last was torn away and the crow drove right in throughthe
tattered, threadbare cloth.  The light seemed to dim for a moment and Harry
fought against a wave of dizziness before the cloth just disintegrated.
Blinding light filled the room with a physical force and Harry hit the wall
hard.  He squinted and his eyes slowly began to adjust.  Finally, he blinked
his watery eyes and his jaw dropped in wonder as he marveled at the brilliant
green light undulating with threads of black that didn’t unnerve him.  He
recognized those as the same as the crow.  That was where the Black family
magic was intertwined with his own.
He stared a moment more, and then he blinked and his core vanished, along with
the chamber, and he was in Orblok’s office again.
And Harry got to see what a goblin looked like completely gobsmacked.  Beady
black eyes were bugging out, toothy maw hanging open as he stared at Harry.
Harry looked around the office and frowned uneasily.  It looked like it had
suffered a minor earthquake.  “I apologize,” Harry said sheepishly.  “There
were a few blocks on my magic that seem to have been removed.”
The goblin finally blinked and seemed to recall himself as he closed his jaw
and sat up properly.  “I’ve never heard of a lordship ring causing such a
strong reaction,” he muttered.  “What did it feel like?” he asked intently.
Harry smiled ruefully at the goblin.  “Power,” he admitted.
Orblok nodded, evidently not surprised by that.
Harry looked down at the ring on his finger and ran his thumb lightly over the
face.  It didn’t look quite so ugly anymore.  His ancestor hadn’t seemed that
bad, after all.
“Would you like to claim the Potter lordship today, Lord Black?” Orblok
inquired, apparently recovered from whatever had happened on this side while
Harry’s core was unblocked.
Harry shook his head definitively.  “No.”  He was going to need a lot more than
a month to convince Snape to marry him, and he had no intention of finding
himself married to Ginny before he was able to reason with the surly git.
“Very well, then it is my duty to inform you that you have one year from today
to assume or forfeit the Potter lordship.  The Potter vault will remain sealed
for now.  Is there anything else that you require today, Lord Black?”
“Yes,” Harry said slowly.  “The Black-Prince contract.  If Severus Snape wishes
to claim the Prince lordship, can you be sure that he’s first informed of the
contract?  I want to discuss it with him before he inadvertently activates the
contract, but I won’t be able to do that immediately.”
“That can be done.  I will make a note of it in the Prince file so that it will
be flagged regardless of whom he speaks to about it.”
“Thank you,” Harry sighed.  The last thing he wanted was for Snape to think
Harry had tried to trick him into it.  Harry had some idea of how vindictive
the man was, and he was pretty sure that Snape would die before he married
Harry if he felt like Harry had done what Dumbledore and Ginny tried to do to
Harry.  It would be difficult enough to convince him as it was.  “I think
that’s all then, except that I would like to view the Black Vault.”
“Of course, Lord Black.  Bloodaxe will take you down.”
Harry thanked the goblin again and left the office to find Bloodaxe, the goblin
who had led him back today, waiting right outside.  He informed the goblin of
his desire to go down to the Black Vault, and he was led to the carts.
The Black Vault was very deep.  Number 32.  Harry had to press his ring against
the door to unlock it – Lords, apparently, did not use keys – and he almost
tripped over his feet as he stepped inside what seemed to be a massive cavern
filled with towering shelves sagging under the weight of gold and platinum
bars, trunks full of galleons, chests full of gems, a library of books, and
shelf after shelf of apparently random objects that were most likely enchanted
and more than likely dark artifacts.  At a guess, there were at least a
thousand books and items in this room that would earn him a one-way ticket to
Azkaban.
The books alone in this room might make it worth marrying Snape.  They really
might.
He chuckled quietly to himself as he felt Knowledge’s hearty approval of that
thought, and he ventured into the room absolutely choked with magic.  Magic
that felt both dark and welcoming.  It recognized him as Lord Black.
Four hours later, Harry left the Black Vault with a much fuller trunk.  He
didn’t yet know enough about any of the items or have the means to identify
them, so he’d not touched any of them.  He highly suspected that they were
mostly quite dangerous if handled improperly.  He did find the Black Grimoire
though, and he’d taken a copy of that with him.  He’d also combed through and
appropriated dozens of books on everything from ancient magicks to rituals,
defense to dark arts, both legal and illegal.  He couldn’t help but grin at the
thought of certain people’s faces if they knew what kind of stuff he was
reading.  Granted, Snape might have a stroke at the simple fact that he was
voluntarily reading something educational – during the summer, no less.
And every time he had a thought like that, he was reminded of just how much
work he still had ahead of him if he wanted to keep the Potter fortune out of
Dumbledore’s hands and not end up married to Ginny.
When he left the bank, he started back toward the Cauldron.  He was nearly
there when a shop caught his eye.  It was a bookstore that he’d never been into
before.  Though he had a great deal of reading material between yesterday’s
visit to Flourish and Blotts and today’s raid of the Black Vault, the last four
hours in particular had gotten him salivating for knowledge of all forms. 
Flourish and Blotts had a lot of mainstream stuff and was a good source for
knowledge on the wizarding world that muggleborns didn’t know, and the Black
library was definitely an ideal source of very dark knowledge, most of the
former was very new and most of the latter was very old.  This was potentially
another source that may fill the gap between the two.  After just a moment of
hesitation, he changed course.
It wasn’t until he was almost in front of the shop that he realized he’d
entered Knockturn Alley.  He wasn’t that far in, but he was only two shops down
from Borgin and Burkes that he’d inadvertently visited before second year. 
Again, he hesitated, but he wasn’t Harry Potter today.  He was Lord Black.  He
wasn’t going to be afraid of a bookstore.
Mentally bracing himself and throwing back his shoulders confidently, he
stepped into the store.  It wasn’t nearly as dark or dingy as Borgin and
Burkes, but it wasn’t as neat and open as Flourish and Blotts either.  All in
all, he figured it could be much worse.
Surprisingly, shopping at the Knockturn Alley store turned out to be pretty
much exactly the same as shopping at any store on Diagon.  It made him wonder
how much of Knockturn’s scary reputation wasn’t exaggerated by the adults to
scare them away from it, and their own imaginations.  After all, hadn’t Hagrid
come down here for slug repellant?  If it was all about evil and illegal, the
gentle half-giant, Dumbledore-worshipper never would have put a toe in here.
Some of the prices were a little higher, but many of the books were also
borderline illegal.  Some looked fairly dark whereas others just seemed the
sort of thing that the Ministry might find annoying.  It did turn out to be a
pretty happy medium between the Diagon Alley store and the Black library.
By the time he left that store, his library compartment was in danger of being
filled, and Harry was over a thousand galleons poorer – not that he was the
slightest bit concerned about money anymore.  He was, however, very warmly
invited to return to the store often as they regularly got in new stock, both
newly published and rarer items that didn’t often become available.  Harry just
smiled and promised that he would certainly be back.  And he would, though
probably not this summer as he already had more than enough to read.
So Harry left feeling rather good about himself for having braved Knockturn
Alley and not only come out alive but unscathed.  Considering the day’s haul of
books, he wasn’t even feeling too stressed out about his impending nuptials to
a man who not only hated him, but didn’t yet know that Harry was dead set on
marrying him.
Harry dedicated the next few days to going through many, many books.  Knowledge
seemed to be maturing at a rate of almost a year a day while Harry devoured
more than a dozen books each day, carefully scanning each page and leaving it
to Knowledge to sort it all out.  If he wanted to peruse it later, he could
find the complete books in his mental library, he didn’t doubt.  He also
switched hotels every day, hopping from upscale to low rent and everything in
between, doing his best to be unpredictable.  He was sure that the Order was
looking for him, but he was just as sure that they were looking for a boy with
messy black hair, green eyes, over-large round glasses, and baggy rags for
clothes, probably lugging around a trunk.  He suspected that Snape had been
roped into the search, and he also suspected that the man was likely to be
extremely unhappy with him – well, more so than he usually was – by the time
school resumed.  That ought to lend a greataid to his plans… 
Unfortunately, Harry refused to put himself back beneath Dumbledore’s wrinkled
old thumb any sooner than necessary.  And he wasn’t entirely sure that he could
remain civil if he had to see three particular Weasleys right now.  At least
when he went back to school, he’d only deal with the Weaslette – he decided
that he liked that nickname – and with her being in a different year and all
the distractions at school, it would be much easier to evade her than if he was
stuck at Grimmauld Place or the Burrow.
At least as fulfilling as his new access to so much reading material – and
questionable reading material at that – was the fact that he was now an adult. 
Magically and legally.  Which meant that he could use magic whenever the hell
he felt like it.  He still needed to learn to apparate, but he’d get lessons in
that next term and then he could take his test with the older students in his
year, like Hermione, who’d be seventeen in September. 
Once he’d consumed all of the books, he spent a week practicing what spells he
could safely practice in a muggle hotel.  He also spent the time that he’d
previously been using to work on his core during the night going over the
theory that he’d assimilated, but not actually learned.  Essentially, the
knowledge was in his head and his Knowledge Aspect could relate it all to him,
but his conscious mind couldn’t access it without help.  So he needed to go
through and actually incorporate it all into his conscious mind.  It was
magnitudes easier than it had ever been for him to learn anything before –
likely because he was no longer fighting his Knowledge Aspect – but it still
took time.
===============================================================================
 
19 July 1996 - Monday
Conscious of the fact that trips to Gringotts wouldn’t be easy once school
started, Harry made another trip to his vault.  He stopped at the luggage shop
first and bought an expensive trunk dedicated solely to storing books.  This
one would hold five thousand books, and kept them at the perfect temperature
and humidity as well as surrounding them with stabilizing and cushioning charms
to prevent any damage.  It did, of course, have feather-weight and shrinking
charms built in as well.  Just because he was capable of casting those charms
whenever he felt like it now, that didn’t mean that he wanted to be bothered
with it when he could get both added for an extra ten galleons.
Once he was armed with extra storage, he headed for Gringotts.  There was one
brief moment of panic when Tonks literally almost tripped over him on her way
out.  Luckily, he recovered first and recognized her before she did him. 
Though he’d hated to do it, he’d stuck his nose in the air, huffed, and
impersonated Malfoy again, storming away from her as though he was deeply
affronted by her clumsiness even though he may have been partly at fault.  He
then hit the first open teller and his status as one of their wealthiest
clients had gotten him taken back immediately.
He breathed a sigh of relief once he was ensconced in his vault, and headed
toward the towering shelves of books.  After filling his new trunk, he
estimated that the vault had held close to ten thousand books, because he’d
cleared out about half of it.  He returned the books that he’d taken the first
time and filled the rest of his standard trunk – which he carried everywhere
with him – library with another hundred or so books.  At the rate he was
assimilating books, he figured that he could make it through most of what he’d
just collected in around four months – factoring in general living in addition
to digesting literature.  He’d have to bring back the ones he’d finished and
restock just before school started.  Then he could hopefully make it back over
winter break to get some more.  Though it would take him a very long time to
properly learn all of that, he wanted Knowledge to have it.  He would then
always have it with him when he needed it, and Knowledge would be his own
personal search engine.  He was truly beginning to adore that Aspect.  He may
not comprehend love, but his feelings for Knowledge right now were as close as
he could imagine.
With any luck, Harry figured that he should have been able to memorize the
entire collection of books in the Black Vault by next summer.  And by then, he
should be married and have access to the Potter Vault, which Harry suspected
may well have more books.  He didn’t know if there would be as many and he
highly suspected that they wouldn’t be nearly as dark, but he would have the
Potter Grimoire at the very least, and hopefully a further collection of
valuable old books.
Harry soon found himself falling into a routine.  He would wake up at sunrise
and head out for a jog, as far as he could push himself without having to drag
himself back to his hotel after.  He’d always been a strong runner, having had
Dudley to teach him that skill, but he was a little out of practice. 
Considering how often he found himself fighting for his life, good physical
endurance seemed very important.  When he got back to his room, he’d take a hot
shower and get dressed for the day.  Depending on where he was staying, he’d
either eat what food he’d brought with him, get a breakfast in the hotel, or
order room service.  He vastly preferred the room service, but his desire to
not stay in one place two days in a row meant that he didn’t always get the
nicest hotels.
After breakfast, Harry would spend three hours paging through and assimilating
books from his portable library.  Then it was two hours of practicing what
magic he could safely do.  After that, he’d have lunch, in his room if possible
or at the nearest diner.  After lunch, he’d move to his new hotel, into a room
reserved the night before under a constant cycle of unremarkable names –
Knowledge made sure he didn’t forget which one he was using.  Once he was
settled, he’d spend another three hours paging through books, then if he needed
to run any errands, he would do so or he’d just practice some magic.  Just
before dinner, he’d pick another hotel out of a telephone directory and make a
reservation for the following night.  He’d tried going without reservations in
the beginning, but after the second time he’d been thwarted by a no lack of
available rooms, he’d decided that a reservation one day in advance was safe
enough since he was using fake names anyway.
After dinner either in his room or the nearest restaurant, he’d either practice
more magic or page through more books depending on his mood or sometimes
indulge in an hour of television to recharge his mental batteries.  Finally,
he’d push himself through as many sit-ups and pushups as he could manage, have
a quick shower to rinse off the sweat, then turn in for the night in time to
get a solid eight hours of sleep.
The next eight hours, thanks to the time difference between the conscious and
unconscious worlds, actually ended up being about twenty-four hours.  The order
in which he did things at night mostly depended on his mood, but it included
about six hours organizing the apparently endless memories, and six hours on
building, reinforcing, and tweaking his mental security system.  Then there
were four hours of transferring his assimilated knowledge into his conscious
understanding – which basically ended up a very great deal like studying with
Knowledge as his personal tutor.  Again, it was much faster than he’d ever been
able to learn before, and it seemed to get easier the more organized his mind
became.  The last eight hours were divided between self-therapy, dueling
practice – in which he could only practice spells he’d successfully cast in the
real world because he couldn’t simulate in his mind anything he hadn’t
experienced in real life – and working on designing and constructing his new
and improved mental landscape – mindscape, he now knew it was called.
He very quickly lost himself in his routine.  His lust for knowledge seemed to
increase daily.  A combination of the speed at which he was able to learn, his
understanding that he had certainly not seen the last attempt on his life, the
fact that he was most likely going to end up dueling Voldemort again, and the
simple usefulnessof so very many of the things he was learning was turning him
into a chronic bookworm.  He was assimilating forty or more books every day
now, depending on their length – the charm he’d learned to set the pages to
turning at the proper speed had increased his efficiency considerably – and his
Knowledge Aspect was into adulthood and was actually getting a bit cocky in
direct opposition of his former shyness.
===============================================================================
 
2 August 1996 - Friday
Harry didn’t realize that he’d missed his birthday until he was ambushed by an
owl one day while he was in transit from one hotel to another.  He almost
banished the owl before noticing the Ministry seal on the envelope.  A few
surreptitious detection charms quickly determined that it was free of curses,
hexes, poisons, tracking charms, and portkeys.  He’d made a point to learn all
of those detection spells as soon as Knowledge acquired them.
Once he felt it was safe, he apologized to the irritated owl and accepted the
missive.  He waited until he was checked into his new hotel room to open it. 
As expected, it was his OWL results.  He was less than pleased with his seven
OWLs, and he had to spend a few minutes calming down before he was able to look
at the scores objectively.  As he’d expected, History of Magic and Divination
were both fails.  He hated himself for ever thinking Divination would be an
easy O.  Not only had he failed the OWL, but he was not remotely interested in
any career that actually required that he take the stupid class anyway.  Three
years of being told that he was going to die soon every single class, for
absolutely nothing.
Pushing passed that point, he figured he could retake the History OWL at the
Ministry later along with the NEWT if he wanted to.  With Knowledge available
to supply him with relevant facts whenever he wanted, he knew that he’d ace it
as there was no practical that he needed to practice.  He didn’t give a flying
fuck about Divination.  Astronomy was only an A, which wasn’t surprising given
that the exam had been interrupted.  That one he could also retake later if he
decided that he wanted it.  That was also just memorizing data.
He’d gotten E’s in Care, Charms, Herbology, Transfiguration, and – shockingly –
Potions.  He’d thought that he’d done pretty well on the Potions OWL, but it
was still bizarre to connect an Exceeds Expectations with Potions.  Snape would
probably faint.
No,Logic corrected in his mind.  Snape will assume you cheated or were given
special treatment.
Ah.  So true.  And even an E wouldn’t be enough to get him into the NEWT
potions class.  Well, he supposed he could try a little mild begging.  If that
didn’t work, it would have to be independent study and tutoring at some point
down the line.  Still, he would like to be in the class just for an extra
excuse to get close to the man that he was going to have to somehow win over in
the next… 337 days.  Well, he’d worry about that later.
He had, at least, gotten an O in Defense.  Considering that he’d been teaching
N.E.W.T. students last year, that wasn’t really surprising. 
Well, at least these were only OWLs.  It was the NEWTs that would really matter
toward his future career, and he was positive that he could improve
exponentially in the next two years given his new control over his mindscape
and his unconscious mind.
The problem was Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.  With a little help from
Hermione, he could probably manage Arithmancy on independent study, but Ancient
Runes – from what he’d learned thus far – required practical work that would be
much easier with some proper instruction.  Though he could easily afford
tutors, he hated the idea of waiting until after graduation to get proper
training in the subject.
That’s when Knowledge reminded him that the Ministry held OWL exams in the
summer at the Ministry in the Department of Education.  Homeschooled kids,
retakes, and older people going back for their OWLs took the tests then.  After
a few minutes of consideration, Harry headed back out of his room.  If the
tests hadn’t already been held, he could take them and sign up for the NEWT
classes.  He was sure that he could do well enough on the theory portions to
scrape at least an A, which would be enough to get him into the NEWT classes. 
There weren’t enough students who took those classes for them to be picky.  It
was quite sad actually, given how many careers preferred if not required those
NEWTs.  But then, those were mostly the more specialized careers – equivalent
to doctors, architects, engineers, and computer programmers in the muggle
world.  Only a small percentage of people did those careers, so he supposed it
made sense.  He still thought they should probably both be required third
through fifth year.  Then those without the aptitude or interest could drop
them, but hopefully, everyone would be old enough to make a semi-informed
decision.
He pushed those thoughts from his mind as he hailed a taxi to the area of the
public entrance of the Ministry.
During the ride, Harry turned his mind to reviewing his knowledge of Runes and
Arithmancy.
By the time he got into the telephone box, he was starting to wonder if this
was a mistake.  He was going to have to give his real name.  He was going to
have to check his wand with security.  That meant that his visit would be on
official record and at least one person would know that he’d been here.  Also,
if he stated the reason for his visit, it was very possible that his return –
if he hadn’t already missed the tests – would be expected.
He conferred briefly with his advisor Aspects.  Logic ended up convincing him
with the good point that, if he was caught by Dumbledore at this point, it
wouldn’t be too tragic.  He still had a great many books to go through and they
were on his person.  He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone whose name was
on that contract, but it would be doable.
With a sigh, he typed in M-A-G-I-C on the number pad.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic,” the bland female voice greeted.  “Please
state your name and business.”
“Harry Potter, visiting the Department of Education,” he said clearly.
With a click and a rattle, the little silver badge was expelled from the
telephone.  Harry Potter, Visiting DoE.
Harry smirked slightly at that and pinned it to his robe.
“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present
your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far
end of the Atrium,” the voice advised, and then the box started sinking into
the ground.
He found the Atrium pleasantly busy when he arrived.  Hopefully, it would be
busy enough that he would pass as unnoticed as it was possible to pass when he
was walking around with a badge stating his name.
He moved quickly and was pleased to find that no one was looking much at him
and no one even glanced at the visitor badge.
At the security desk, he found a bored looking middle-aged man going through
the monotonous motions of his job with as little evident thought as possible. 
“Step over here,” he said when Harry stopped at the desk.  Harry quickly moved
the same way he had last summer, and submitted to being scanned with the thin
golden rod that was presumably checking him for dark artifacts or extra wands. 
It didn’t even blip at the trunks in his pockets, so it either didn’t notice
the dark books or couldn’t see through the trunks.  Given the general
incompetence Harry had encountered in this building, he wasn’t ruling anything
out.
“Wand,” the man almost sighed when he was done with the scan.
Harry passed it over and watched while it was scanned by the strange scales. 
To Harry’s absolute delight, the man stuck the slip of paper on the brass
spike, handed back Harry’s wand, and didn’t seem to notice his name at all.
Containing a sigh of relief when he was allowed passed the desk, Harry hurried
to the lifts.  He boarded the first one available along with an auror in
uniform and someone else that probably worked there judging by the lack of
visitor badge.  Neither gave him more than a glance.
Harry exited the lift on the proper floor and followed the signs toward the
Department of Education with the uneasy feeling that his good luck could not
possibly continue.
He stepped through the door with the proper label and very easily found the
large notice advertising that OWL tests would be held on August 5th, NEWT tests
on August 12th.  The sign advised anyone interested in taking the exams to sign
up at the desk.
Harry mentally groaned.  They were going to have his name down.  He didn’t
doubt for an instant that Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Daily Prophet would
know all about this by end of business today.
He stared at the sign for a few minutes, wondering if it was going to be worth
it to do this.  Unfortunately, Logic couldn’t resist pointing out that he
needed to learn these things because they would help him to stay alive.  And
that Voldemort wouldn’t try anything at the Ministry in broad daylight.  And
that Dumbledore was annoying, but very unlikely to literally kill him.
With a disgruntled sigh, he moved over to the desk.
“I’d like to sign up for some OWLs,” he said to the elderly witch seated there.
She gave him a kind smile.  “Which ones, Dearie?”
Harry was uneasily reminded of Mrs. Number 12 on Privet Drive, who was a very
sweet old lady who also happened to be the biggest gossip on a street full of
gossips.  But, he’d already committed to this.  “Um, Arithmancy and Ancient
Runes.”
“First time or retakes?”
“First time.  I took my other OWLs at Hogwarts, but I was doing independent
study on these, so I couldn’t take them at Hogwarts.”  May as well give her
some sort of explanation.  That way, if she did gossip, at least some of the
more outlandish rumors might be nipped in the bud.
She nodded and jotted something down on a parchment in front of her. 
“Arithmancy is scheduled for one p.m. and Ancient Runes will be at three p.m.,
both on Monday.  What’s your name, sonnie?”
“Harry Potter,” he didn’t quite sigh.
Her eyes immediately darted up to his visitor badge, then his forehead, where
his scar was pretty well concealed, then to his face.  “Are you really?” she
blinked.
Harry gave her something between a grimace and a smile.  “Yes, ma’am.”
She frowned at him.  “You don’t fit the pictures I’ve seen, granted that was a
couple years ago…”
He sighed, “Yes, ma’am.  I’m trying to avoid making too much of a scene.”
Her eyes widened in comprehension, then that sweet smile was back.  “Well,
don’t you worry, lad.  I won’t be telling anyone you stopped by.  Least I can
do after all you’ve done for us.”
Harry was moderately surprised, decently skeptical, and rather wishing that
more magical folk thought like that.  Most of them seemed to figure that
everything he’d “done for them” just made him public property.  “I’d appreciate
that,” he admitted, then for good measure, added, “I’d hate to make a scene,
and if You-Know-Who found out when exactly I was going to be here…” he let that
thought hang.
The woman nodded sagely.  “Of course, Mr. Potter,” she said quietly.  “We
wouldn’t want him here again.  Certainly not.  Don’t you worry about a thing. 
I’ll make sure no one sees your name until it’s time to take the tests, okay?”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said politely, hoping that she’d do just that, but not
at all counting on it.  Even if she meant it at the moment, it would take only
one errant comment in the cafeteria to have the news spreading like Fiendfyre.
That evening and the next two days were spent almost exclusively on reviewing
Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. 
===============================================================================
 
5 August 1996 - Monday
On Monday, he slept in a bit to get a few more hours of study.  He ate a small
lunch, his nerves proving a bit too much for him to really stomach very much. 
He wasn’t nervous about the tests, of course.  He’d learned as much as he could
and Knowledge would be there to supply the rest.  Whatever happened, he was
sure that he’d at least pass them both.  And if he didn’t, for any reason, he’d
just have to continue his independent study and probably beg Hermione to tutor
him.
No, what had him nervous was wondering how much of a circus he was going to
face.  Would Dumbledore be there waiting for him?  The media?  Death Eaters? 
Voldemort himself?  He didn’t really think that Voldemort was quite strong
enough after what happened in June for him to risk showing up at the Ministry
during the middle of the day, and it would be stupid to waste his Death Eaters
there, particularly as he must expect Dumbledore to be providing a guard if not
going personally.  It was mostly Paranoia that wouldn’t let him completely
dismiss that concern.
He really didn’t know if he was ready to see Dumbledore yet, not to mention
giving up some of the first freedom he’d ever known in his life to spend the
rest of the summer locked up at Grimmauld or the Burrow.  He’d made his
decision though.  There was nothing left to do now but to face it with dignity.
With that in mind, he changed into his robes in the nearest public loo before
heading for the visitor’s entrance.
And so, he was only slightly disappointed, and not the least surprised when he
spotted Kingsley loitering across the street.  He assumed that Tonks was around
somewhere, too, but she could almost literally be anyone.
He did, however, find it extremely satisfying when he realized that Kingsley
did not seem to have spotted him yet.  Considering that they knew he’d be here
and when, it was immensely satisfying to see that his disguise was so good.
He stepped into the box and typed in the code.  A surreptitious glance toward
Kingsley found the man watching him intently, but it didn’t seem like he was
sure of his identity.  Harry had foregone the colored contacts today
considering the certainty that he would be recognized once he reached the exam
if not before.  He left his hair brown, but there didn’t seem to be any good
reason to give up a valuable part of his disguise.
He was also extremely unsurprised when he exited the telephone box in the
Atrium to find Dumbledore there twinkling at him.
Harry very carefully checked to make sure that Rage was firmly locked up before
approaching the man.
“You’re looking well, Harry,” he greeted, far too amiably.
“A summer away from the Dursleys is apparently good for me,” Harry replied
flatly.  “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I don’t want to be late.”
Dumbledore fell into step at his side as he moved through the atrium, the old
man’s unmistakable presence clearing the way for them.  “We do need to talk,
Harry.”
“I expected as much,” he answered smoothly, keeping his voice as low as
Dumbledore was lest all of the eager listeners get what they so badly wanted –
more gossip.
“You seem to have changed a great deal this summer,” Dumbledore said
thoughtfully.
“It’s necessary,” was Harry’s ambiguous answer.  Two could play at the
mysterious game, after all.
Dumbledore eyed him briefly before nodding sagely. 
The old man’s presence got the security wizard’s attention this time, and of
course he had to figure out who was accompanying the headmaster, which prompted
the gaping and staring that Harry had been so grateful to avoid last time. 
Like his eyes, he hadn’t hidden his scar behind anything more than his hair
today.  Let them think that the presence – or absence – of that annoying
disfiguration was a sure indicator of his identity.
Dumbledore accompanied him all the way to the exam room, and Harry tried not to
let it annoy him too much.  After all, his presence at least guaranteed that
any Death Eaters on staff would restrain themselves from trying anything. 
Harry was learning fast and had become a much more competent dueler with the
influx of so much new knowledge and the ability to practice against his dueling
equal – even if only in his mind – but that didn’t mean that he was eager to
have someone try to kill him again.  After all, as his increasingly healthy
Paranoia loved to point out, even the best dueler or the most suspicious, aware
man in the world wasn’t infallible.  If Mad-Eye Moody managed to get himself
tied up in his own trunk, it would be all too easy for Harry to find himself in
such a situation.  Of course, Harry wouldn’t just be imprisoned.  He’d be taken
to Voldemort and tortured, then executed.
So, Harry tolerated the old man’s presence as well as he was able until he
reached the exam room.  Outside the closed doors, he faced him again.  “Thank
you, headmaster, but I doubt that I’ll need a babysitter inside,” he said
coolly.
Dumbledore sighed sadly in response to the tone, but nodded.  “We’ll talk more
when you’re done, Harry.”
Harry didn’t bother responding before he turned and let himself into the room. 
There were three other kids about his age that he didn’t recognize, two that
looked two to four years post-Hogwarts, and one middle-aged witch inside. 
Harry found a seat in the back so that he’d be able to concentrate without
worrying about anyone cursing him in the back.
The wait was almost ten minutes before the elderly wizard at the desk in the
front looked up from the book that he’d been reading right when the wall clock
indicated that it was “time to begin”.  He set it aside carefully, then picked
up a small roll of parchment and unfurled it.  He then went down the brief list
of names, calling them and waiting until the individual responded in the
affirmative.  There was a slightly protracted pause as the old man leaned a bit
closer to the parchment, then lifted his eyes again.  “Harry Potter.”
“Present,” Harry said no louder than necessary while everyone else twisted
around in their desks to get a look at him.  Harry ignored the attention with
the experience of long practice and the instructor soon passed out their
exams.  They were informed that they had ninety minutes, but should turn in
their parchments sooner if they finished.
As he went through the test, Harry guessed that he was probably at a level of
competency that deserved an A right now after all his recent studying.  Of
course, with Knowledge silently cross referencing any of his questions and
providing any answers that had Harry uncertain, he didn’t doubt that the final
product deserved an O.
After that test was over, Harry had to wait half an hour until the next.  He
adjourned to the nearby lounge that was open to the testers and got himself
some tea, then took a book on Ancient Runes from his pocket and read through it
while he waited.  Knowledge already had this book, so it wasn’t necessary, but
it did prove an excellent means to keep anyone from trying to talk to him. 
Most of the other students awaiting the next exam were likewise doing last-
minute studying, but Tonks was loitering near the door and probably would have
loved to chat.
The next test wasn’t as easy as the last, due to the practical portion at the
end.  Though he knew that he’d get an O on the theory thanks to Knowledge’s
help, he’d be lucky to scrape an A on the practical seeing as how this was the
first time he’d tried it.  He wasn’t worried though.  He was sure that the
overall grade would be enough to get him into the NEWT class.
When the exam at last concluded, Harry exited the room to find Dumbledore again
waiting for him.
“How did you do?” he asked too cheerfully.
“I’m sure I passed,” Harry replied neutrally.
Dumbledore eyed him thoughtfully.  “I hadn’t realized that you had any interest
in Arithmancy or Ancient Runes,” he noted as they started toward the Atrium
again.
“I hadn’t realized how many careers require the subjects,” Harry countered, not
looking at the old man lest he glare at him.
That comment bought a thoughtful silence from the old coot all the way up to
the Atrium.  “I thought we’d go to the Burrow now, Harry.  Molly and Arthur
have invited you to stay the rest of the summer.”
Harry just nodded.  He wasn’t going to commit himself to accepting the
invitation, but he wasn’t going to try to fight Dumbledore on this either.  It
didn’t seem worth it.
When Dumbledore realized that he wasn’t going to say anything, he added, “Do
you have everything that you need or should we go pick up your things?”
“I have everything,” Harry said simply, which got him another assessing look.
Finally, the old man nodded as they stopped before one of the exit floos. 
“After you then, Harry,” he smiled benignly.
Harry forcibly kept his face blank as he threw some powder into the fire and
stepped inside.  “The Burrow,” he called out, and tried to focus carefully to
avoid letting himself be dumped on his rear upon exit.
He still stumbled, and he was sprinkled with soot, but he was considerably more
graceful than the last time he’d traveled this way.  Unfortunately, by the time
he’d caught his balance, he found himself in the crushing embrace of one of his
least favorite people in the entire world.
“Oh, Harry, dear!  We were so worried about you!  How could you just run off
like that!  Don’t you know how dangerous it is?!”
Harry stiffened and forcibly repressed the urge to shove the vile woman away
from him.  She’d always been an overbearing mother type, but knowing that she
would pretend to care for him like one of her own while at the same time
plotting to trap him into a marriage with her daughter against his will turned
his stomach – and their poverty was no excuse.  Before this, he’d have
giventhem a quarter million galleons if they’d asked nicely – no marriage
required.
By the time he’d extricated himself from her grip, he was immediately enveloped
in another – this one with bushy brown hair that tickled his nose.
Though Harry had never been much for casual touch, he did relax some. 
Hermione, at least, he had found no reason to suspect of plotting against him.
“Oh, Harry!  Where on Earth wereyou?  Everyone’s been ever so worried!”
“It’s good to see you, too, Hermione,” he smiled, cutting off her rant.
“Good to see me?” she demanded, pulling back to glare at him, then smack him on
the shoulder.  “That’s all you’ve got to say?  You go and vanish for a month,
then think you can just show up and act like nothing happened?!”
“I promise that I’ll explain later, okay?” he entreated.
She huffed an annoyed sigh, but they were too used to keeping secrets for her
to press the subject now.
“Molly, might Harry and I borrow the kitchen for a few minutes?” Dumbledore
inquired, and by the look on his face and the way his eyes lingered on Harry
and Hermione, he was comforted to at least see Harry acting warm toward his old
friend.
Harry sat down at the kitchen table across from Dumbledore and wondered if the
twins were home.  He wondered how many extendable ears were already snaking
toward them.  There was no such thing as a private conversation in the Burrow
without heavy secrecy warding.  Well, no matter.  He wasn’t planning on telling
Dumbledore any secrets anyway.
Dumbledore bustled about preparing some tea before settling down when they both
had a cup.  “I need for you to explain to me why you left your relatives’ house
this summer,” he said somberly.
“Did you not receive my letter?” Harry asked blandly.
“I did,” Dumbledore nodded slowly.  “You stated that you didn’t feel safe.”
“That’s the truth,” Harry shrugged.
“And why is that?  Harry, my boy, you know that you are safest behind the wards
powered by your aunt’s blood.”
“I disagree,” Harry said simply.  “You said at the end of the year that
Voldemort shed my mother’s blood and that you therefore used that sacrifice to
seal a charm that you placed upon me when Petunia took me in – however
unwillingly.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly as though waiting to see where Harry was going with
this.
Harry took a moment to remind himself to stay calm.  It wouldn’t do to lose his
temper and start ranting about things he shouldn’t know.  “But when Voldemort
created a new body for himself, he used my blood in its creation.  My blood now
flows in his veins.  He and I are now, for all intents and purposes, blood
kin.”
Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Harry
to go on.
Harry sighed.  “‘Even the greatest of sins, if committed by kin, cannot be
revenged in blood of the blood’,” Harry quoted.  “‘Even the magic of the lord
upon the unworthy of his brood may never disengage the bonds of fraternity that
flow within the flesh’.  These are among the most basic rules of blood magic,”
Harry said flatly.  “However powerful that magic is, particularly when imbued
with emotion, blood magic cannot be used against blood kin.  You may be an
expert in love-based magic, but Voldemort is an expert of blood-based magic. 
He knew what he was doing when he used my blood in that ritual.  My mother’s
sacrifice, and your little protection charm has been worth nothing more than a
mild aversion to him since his resurrection.  That’s why our connection became
so much stronger after.  That’s why he was able to possess me in June.  That’s
why I no longer feel safe at Privet Drive.”
Dumbledore’s eyes were a bit on the wide side as he stared at Harry for a long
moment before speaking.  “Harry, my boy,” he said finally.  “Where did you
learn that?”
Harry rolled his eyes.  “Magicks of Blood by Thelna Selwyn.  It’s in the
restricted section.  I read it last year, but I didn’t make the connection
until the beginning of this summer when I was thinking about what you’d told me
about the protection offered by my aunt taking me in.”  Again, he silently
thanked Knowledge for somehow remembering the title of that book on a shelf in
the restricted section.  Another copy existed in the Black library.
“I see…” Dumbledore muttered thoughtfully.  “Well, you’ve certainly done your
homework, Harry.  I will… look into it.  I still don’t approve of your leaving
without notifying me first, but…  Perhaps I can see why you did.”  He was
silent for a moment more before he focused shrewd eyes on Harry again.  “I see
that you’ve been shopping in Diagon Alley at least once,” he looked pointedly
at Harry’s robe.  “Do you understand how dangerous that is, to go there alone
now that Voldemort is gaining power once more?”
Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes again.  “Well, clearly I wasn’t
recognized or you’d have heard about it.”
“True,” Dumbledore conceded.  “I couldn’t help but notice that you changed your
hair.  Is that why?”
“Of course.”
“And your glasses?”
“Muggles have a nifty invention in which tiny lenses are placed directly onto
the surface of the eye to correct vision.  They’re called contact lenses or
contacts for short.”
“I see.  Most ingenious.  And you can see as well with them as with your
glasses?”
“Much better, actually,” Harry huffed.  “My glasses were never the right
prescription.  I never even realized how poor my sight was until I got these.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said sadly.  “Shall I assume that you wish to sign up for
Arithmancy and Ancient Runes next term?  Assuming that you’ve passed your
exams, of course.”
Harry gave a brisk nod, “Yes, sir.”
“Can I ask about the sudden interest?”
Harry shrugged, “I’ve changed my mind about becoming an auror.  If I manage to
kill Voldemort and survive it, I want to be done fighting for my life.”
“What else did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking about enchantment,” Harry shrugged, “Though I haven’t ruled out
a career in healing, either.”
The old man twinkled at that.  “Very well, Harry.  There is only one more thing
to discuss.”
“Yes?”
“Grimmauld Place.  The Order has vacated the premises for the time being.  I
believe that Sirius left most of his possessions to you, but due to his legal
status at the time of his death, the goblins have sealed the will.  What that
means is that only those stated in the will have been informed of it, and then
only as it pertains to them.  Thus far, no one in the Order has reported having
been contacted, which leads me to assume that he probably left it all to you.”
Dumbledore sent him a questioning look.
“Yes, sir.  He did,” Harry replied neutrally after a brief pause.
“Ah,” Dumbledore nodded with something like relief.  “That is fortunate.  May I
assume then that you’ve been to see the goblins?”
“I needed to access my vault,” Harry said, leaving the “obviously” unvoiced.
“The house is yours, then?”
Harry just nodded.
“Well…  Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the
direct line, to the next male with the name of ‘Black’.  Sirius was the very
last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were
childless.  While his will may make it perfectly plain that he wants you to
have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has
been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than
a pureblood.”
Harry frowned as he tried to figure out what spell or enchantment that
Dumbledore might be thinking about.  For all of their pureblood obsession,
there wasn’t anything of that sort in the Grimoire.  Nor, actually, in any book
that he’d assimilated, according to Knowledge.  The fact of the matter was that
“pure” magical blood was more of an urban legend than a fact.  Magic was
magic.  While it was possible to differentiate between certain wizarding lines
and between those or greater or lesser power, magic did not make any
distinction between muggleborn and ten centuries of “pureblood” breeding.
Of course, it was possible that Dumbledore knew something he didn’t, having had
decades more to accumulate knowledge, but Harry suspected that he’d have heard
hints of “pureblood magic” if such a thing existed, particularly as he’d been
delving so deeply into the Black library, which would have coveted such a
thing.
So, the only conclusion Harry could draw was that Dumbledore meant “Black”
blood rather than “pure” blood.  Of course, Harry did have Black blood, thanks
to his paternal grandmother, but Harry was sure that Dumbledore knew that. 
What it came down to was that Draco had more.  Harry wasn’t the slightest bit
concerned for that, however.  The Black Family Ring had accepted him.  He was
now Lord Black.  His magic had acclimated to the Black family magic.  He
couldn’t imagine any way that Grimmauld Place would recognize anyone as its
master over him, even one with more Black blood.
Of course, he hadn’t told Dumbledore about that yet.  He was wearing the ring
on a cord around his neck under his robe now.  As long as he lived or until he
deliberately passed the ring onto his chosen heir, it wouldn’t matter if he was
wearing it or not.  Nothing could take the lordship away from him.
After a moment of hesitation, he decided to continue to keep the lordship to
himself for now.  Once Dumbledore knew about it, he would know that Harry was
legally and magically an adult, which would mean that the Potter lordship was
available to him, of which he would know that the goblins would have informed
him.  And that would mean that Dumbledore would wonder why he hadn’t accepted
the lordship yet, and he may start to wonder about Harry’s awareness of the
contract.  No, it was better to keep his secret as long as possible.  Ideally,
until he was safely married.  To Snape.
He shook that thought and focused back on the conversation at hand.  “Is there
any way to know for sure?” he asked innocently.
“Fortunately,” Dumbledore twinkled.  “There is a simple test.  You see, if you
have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited…”  He flicked his wand
and there was a loud crack.  Kreacher appeared next to the table.  “Kreacher,”
he finished.
“Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher wont!” the house-elf croaked,
stamping his feet and pulling his ears.  “Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix,
oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress,
Kreacher won’t go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won’t, won’t, won’t…”
“As you can see, Harry,” Dumbledore said loudly, over Kreacher’s continued
croaks of “Won’t, won’t, won’t”, “Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to
pass into your ownership.”
Harry stared at the filthy, pathetic creature that was responsible for Sirius’
death – or that had, at least, aided in it.  He knew from his study of
pureblood culture and etiquette that Kreacher’s contribution to his master’s
untimely death had earned him a death sentence.  He also knew, from the Black
Grimoire, that his crime had earned him immolation.  His head wouldn’t be
mounted among those of the faithful.  Of course, if Harry were a traditional
Black, Kreacher wouldn’t just be killed and immolated, but tortured until his
body was ready to fail, and then immolated alive.
It was disturbingly tempting to respect family traditions in this case.
“Give him an order,” Dumbledore suggested when Harry just stared at the
pathetic elf.  “If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey.  If
not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his
rightful mistress.”
Harry didn’t let himself roll his eyes at the man’s assumption that killing the
little beast was out of the question.
“Won’t, won’t, won’t, WON’T!”
“Kreacher, be silent,” Harry snapped irritably.
It looked, for a moment, as though Kreacher was going to choke.  He grabbed his
throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging as he attempted to
ignore the order.  Finally, he threw himself face forward onto the floor and
beat his hands and feet onto the worn wood, giving himself over to a violent,
but entirely silent tantrum.
“Well, that simplifies matters,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.  “It seems that
Sirius knew what he was doing.  You are the rightful owner of Number twelve,
Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher.”
Harry would have liked to just kill the elf, but there were a few problems with
that.  Dumbledore would be horrified.  Hermione would be furious.  And Harry
really could use a house-elf.  If he could make the little blighter behave.
“Kreacher, stand up,” Harry ordered quietly.  “Remain still and do not speak
unless in direct response to a question.”
The elf did as he was told, of course, but he was glaring at Harry furiously. 
Harry took a deep breath and silently asked Knowledge to help him out.  After
receiving an affirmative, he directly repeated the lines the Aspect fed to him.
“Kreacher, you will never again speak to, write to, or in any other way
communicate with anyone except for me unless I give you direct and specific
permission to do so.  That includes allowing yourself to be legilimized or
otherwise forced.  You will carry out all orders given to you in the most
efficient, effective manner possible without contradicting any of your other
orders.  Now and until you are told otherwise, you will go to Grimmauld Place
and you will clean the house properly as befits the Ancient and Most Noble
House of Black.  You will do so as quickly and thoroughly as you are physically
and magically capable of doing.  You…”
The elf vanished with a crack.
Harry rolled his eyes.  “Kreacher!”
The elf appeared again, looking furious and defiant.
“You will never again leave my presence when called for until you have been
dismissed.  You will not disturb any of the contents of the house any more than
is strictly necessary for the purposes of cleaning.  You will not remove any of
the contents of the house from the house without my direct and specific
permission.  Any trash or broken or useless items, you will safely and neatly
collect out of the way and await my approval to dispose of them.  You will
never take actions that you believe could result in someone being harmed or
killed without my direct and specific permission.  If you believe one of my
orders may result in such harm or death, you will inform me of your concerns as
soon as you are able.  If you ever discover a way around my orders that would
allow you to betray me, you will inform me at once.  You are now dismissed to
carry out the duties I’ve given.”
With a malicious sneer, the elf vanished again.
“That was… very efficient, Harry,” Dumbledore said speculatively.  “Though
perhaps it may have been better to send him to Hogwarts where the other elves
could monitor him.”
“He’s already responsible for one death that we know of,” Harry frowned.  “I’m
not going to trust him around all those children.  Besides, it seems
counterproductive to put him in proximity to Draco Malfoy.”
Dumbledore just gave a small, conceding nod.  “Well, he is your elf.  Now, as
the house belongs to you, I must ask your permission that the Order of the
Phoenix continues to utilize it.”
Harry considered that for a moment, and then nodded.  “Yes.  But.  If you want
to renew the Fidelius, I want to be the Secret Keeper, as it is my house. 
Also, I want to spend the rest of the summer there, and I want to leave within
the week.”
Dumbledore frowned in response to that.  “If you wish to be the Secret Keeper,
that is your right, Harry.  Is there a reason that you don’t wish to stay at
the Burrow, though?”
“Several,” Harry nodded.  “First, the Burrow is overcrowded.  There’s no reason
that I need to be here taking up space when I have my own house.  Second,” he
added before the headmaster could say anything against his first point. 
“Grimmauld is much more secure than the Burrow even without the Fidelius.  My
presence here puts everyone else at risk.  Again, it’s unnecessary, even if the
risk is relatively slight.  Third, I would like to keep an eye on Kreacher and
make sure that he doesn’t find a way to destroy the house despite my specific
orders.  And finally, I would like to get some studying done in the remainder
of the summer, and that will be much more easily done at Grimmauld where there
are fewer distractions.”
Dumbledore sighed sadly, “All excellent points, Harry.  I do hope, however,
that you don’t mean to isolate yourself from your friends or to forget that you
must have some enjoyment in your life.  Your studies are important, but no one
can survive on work alone.”
“I am aware of that, sir, and I wouldn’t object to my friends visiting me at
Grimmauld Place, but I’ve been neglecting my studies for far too long.  I have
a lot to learn if I want to have any hope of actually surviving this war, and I
domean to survive.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a sad smile.  “Very well. 
I’ll see about opening Grimmauld Place once more and make preparations to renew
the Fidelius.”
Harry gave a brief nod as he stood.  “Excuse me, sir,” he said quietly, and
left the kitchen before he said something unpleasant.  He ignored the guilty-
looking pile of Weasleys - and Hermione - trying to pretend that they weren’t
hiding extendable ears behind their backs at the bottom of the stairs, and made
his way directly up to Ron’s room. 
 
***** Friends and Enemies *****
===============================================================================
                                        
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 5
                              Friends and Enemies
8 August 1996 - Thursday
The next few days at the Burrow were tense.  Harry was slightly cold toward
pretty much everyone except Hermione.  He tried not to be because he didn’t
want to give himself away, but he just couldn’t help it.  He felt betrayed by
at least three of the Weasleys, and he had no idea if any of the others had
been aware of the situation or not.  Hermione was the only one that he was
basically certain hadn’t known anything about it.  Luckily, given what had
happened with Sirius in June and his disappearing act this summer, as well as
his general moodiness all last year, everyone seemed pretty content to assume
that Harry was just grieving and temperamental and leave it at that.
He turned down all offers to play Quidditch and spent as much time as he could
manage locked away in Ron’s room working on assimilating books and practicing
magic.  It still wasn’t nearly as much as he’d been doing when he was staying
on his own, but at least he was getting something done.  And if Dumbledore
didn’t get him out of here within a week, he was going to leave on his own, and
when he got to Grimmauld Place, he was going to lock it down and the Order
could go fuck themselves.
Not that he was spiteful or anything.  Not at all.  And he didn’t care what
Logic had to say about denial.
The book lists for the coming year arrived at the Burrow on Wednesday, and the
family planned a trip to Diagon Alley on Thursday.  They floo’d to the Alley
that morning. 
“Harry!”
Harry spun around just in time to nearly be crushed as Hagrid hugged him. 
“What are you doing here, Hagrid?” Harry asked, trying to imbue some pleasure
into the voice.  He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Hagrid.  The man may
have been his first friend, but given that he was slavishly devoted to
Dumbledore, Harry just couldn’t quite bring himself to trust the half-giant.
“Security, innit?” Hagrid grinned.  “It’s just like ol’ times, eh Harry?  See,
the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do,” he
said proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. 
Harry’s eye twitched as he fought to avoid rolling them.  It was disgusting
that the Ministry just listened to Dumbledore like that.  And why did he think
that a single half-giant was good for security?  Did he not think that anything
much was going to happen?  Sure, Hagrid was tough, being freakishly strong and
naturally resistant to most magic, but he was also nota trained wizard. 
Legally, he wasn’t supposed to be doing magic at all.  Not to mention that the
man stood out like a flashing neon sign to anyone wondering exactly where Harry
Potter was.
Harry managed to smile and nod and join the others in entering the Alley.  He
grimaced as they all came to a stop and took in the setting that was even
gloomier than when Harry had last been here.  Ministry posters were pasted
everywhere, giving security advice that would barely give a single Death Eater
pause – the more inept Death Eaters, that is.  New stands had sprung up
everywhere, the nearest one advertising amulets that protected against “dark”
creatures.
Harry clenched his jaw and fought the urge to sneer at the sign.  Doubtless
reading so many dark books was affecting him, but he was coming to see with
increasing clarity that “dark” did not equal “evil”.
“One for your little girl, madam?” a seedy-looking little wizard with a
rattling armful of silver pedants on chains called to Mrs. Weasley as they
passed, leering at Ginny.  “Protect her pretty neck?”
Harry carefully did not smirk at the way Ginny bristled at being called a
“little girl”.  Instead, he stepped forward even while Mr. Weasley was turning
a glare on the wizard.  “Can I see one?” he wondered.
“Of course, Laddie, of course!” the wizard crooned, quickly separating one
out.  “Just two sickles now.  Guaranteed protection against werewolves,
dementors, and inferi.”
“Harry, that’s all rubbish!” Mrs. Weasley chastised.
Harry ignored her and brushed his magic over the pendant.  He was able to make
out a mild cheering charm and something else that he didn’t know specifically,
but the way the magic moved and interwove felt to him like some kind of
relaxant.  So the pendants weren’t actually made to protect against anything,
but to lull the wearer into a false sense of security.  Harry was notably
unsurprised.  He leaned forward as he handed it back and whispered to the
repulsive little man, “How long do you think you can sell this trash before one
of these creatures you’re vilifying decides to rip out your throat?  I do hope
a cheering charm proves as effective as you claim.”
The man was pasty white as Harry drew away with a sheepish smile for Mrs.
Weasley.  “You’re probably right,” he shrugged.
“If I were on duty…” Mr. Weasley glared at the man who seemed like he wasn’t
even hearing him.
“Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear.  We’re in a hurry,” Mrs. Weasley
chastised.  “Now, I think we’d better do Madam Malkin’s first.  Hermione wants
new dress robes and Ron’s showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and
you need new ones, too, Harry.  You’ve grown so much.”
That’ll happen when you actually get to eat,Harry didn’t let himself voice.
“Molly, it doesn’t make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin’s,” Mr.
Weasley pointed out.  “Why don’t those three go with Hagrid, and we can go to
Flourish and Blotts and get everyone’s schoolbooks?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to
finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack.  “Hagrid,
do you think…?”
“Don’ fret, they’ll be fine with me, Molly,” Hagrid said soothingly, waving an
airy hand the size of a dustbin lid.  Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely
convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts
with her husband while Ginny joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione with Hagrid toward
Madam Malkin’s.
Hagrid elected to wait outside the shop while the rest of them went inside,
seeing as his excessive size coupled with the four of them would take up most
of the shop.  They’d barely gotten in the door when they heard a familiar voice
issuing from behind a rack of dress robes.
“…not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother.  I am perfectly capable of
doing my shopping alone.”
There was a clucking noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of Madam
Malkin, the owner, said, “Now, dear, your mother’s quite right.  None of us is
supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore.  It’s nothing to do with
being a child…”
“Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!”
As expected, Draco appeared from behind the rack wearing a handsome set of dark
green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the
sleeves.  He strode to the mirror and examined himself for a few seconds before
he noticed them in the reflection.  His eyes narrowed.
“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a mudblood just walked in,” he
sneered in their direction through the reflection.
“I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!” Madam Malkin snapped
as she scurried out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a
wand.  “And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop either!” she added hastily as a
glance toward the door showed Ron standing with his wand out and pointed at
Malfoy.
“Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school,” Malfoy sneered.
“That’s quite enough!” Malkin said sharply, looking over her shoulder for
support.  “Madam.  Please…”
Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack.  “Put that away,”
she said coldly to Ron.  “If you ever touch my son again, I shall ensure that
it is the last thing you ever do.”
“I think that’s enough,” Harry interceded coolly, stepping forward to touch
Ron’s wrist and gently ease his wand arm down.  He turned back to the angry
matriarch then and took a non-threatening step forward.  “Lady Malfoy.  I don’t
believe we’ve officially met.  I’m Harry Potter.”  He lifted one hand in offer.
She stared at it for a moment, then at him as though trying to define him.
“Don’t touch her, Potter!” Malfoy snapped, spinning around to level him with a
glare, his hand going to his wand, but not drawing it.
“Hush, Draco,” Narcissa said after a moment, shrewd eyes studying Harry.  “It’s
a pleasure to finally meet you, Heir Potter,” she said at last, lifting her
hand to place it in his.  Harry’s addressing her as Lady Malfoy while offering
the introduction had invoked pureblood custom.  As there was no official feud
between their families, it would dishonor her to ignore him or slight him at
the moment.
Harry gripped her hand gently and bent over it to just brush his lips across
her knuckles without lowering his eyes.  “The pleasure is mine, Lady Malfoy,”
he said as he straightened again.
Draco seemed to have realized what Harry was doing by now and he didn’t
appreciate it at all by the way he was glaring pure murder at him.
Ron, just as clearly, seemed to have no idea what was going on.  “Harry, what’s
wrong with you!?  They’re Death Eaters!” he burst out, his wand rising slightly
again.
Harry grimaced faintly, though the way he was standing, only the Malfoys would
see it – and they both did by their calculating expressions.
“Really, you shouldn’t accuse...” Madam Malkin gasped, one hand clutching at
her heart.  “Dangerous thing to say…  Wands away, please!”
“She’s right, Ron,” Harry said with a glance over his shoulder.  “There’s no
need for accusations,” he gave Narcissa a smile as he said that, but his eyes
were serious as he looked at her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t speak as Harry went on.
“Lady Malfoy, I apologize for my companion’s behavior.  Would you allow me to
pay for Draco’s robes by way of apology?”
She studied him a moment while Draco just gaped at him.  His jaw had slipped
open at the sound of Harry saying his name.  Finally, she dipped her head in
consent.  “That is kind of you, Heir Potter.”  She then turned back to Draco to
see about how his robes were coming, and ushered him back to the mirror while
Harry turned to his friends, who were also gaping at him.
“What the hell was that?” Ron demanded too loudly.
“Tact,” Harry growled in return, keeping his own voice low enough that it
wouldn’t carry.  “Try it sometime.”
“But…!”
“Ron, we’re not going to duel anyone in the middle of Diagon Alley, and they’re
certainly not dumb enough to attack us, so what the hell is the point in making
ourselves look ridiculous?”
“But…  You’re going to buy his robes?!” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Harry snapped.  “Because I am better than Malfoy and I disagree with
shouting malicious slurs in public!”
“But they areDeath Eaters!”
Harry clenched his jaw and prayed for patience.  “Ron, just go get your robes,”
he ordered coldly.
Ron gaped at him a moment longer, then turned it into a glare and stormed
toward the racks.  Ginny gave him a bewildered look before following.  Hermione
stayed.
“Seriously, what was that about?” she whispered.
“Pureblood etiquette,” Harry explained quietly.  “I may not be pureblood, but I
am Heir to a powerful family.  What I said to Narcissa invoked custom.  It
would have shamed her to not respond in kind.  It’s…  I’ve got a book you can
read.  It’s rather complicated.”
She nodded in response to the book offer.  “But why did you do it?” she
wondered.
“Like I said,” Harry sighed, “there’s no point in antagonizing them.  And… 
You’ve really got to read the book.  Can you just go get your robes and I’ll
explain later?”
“You keep saying that, but you haven’t explained anything yet,” she complained.
“I’ll explain when we go to my house, okay?” he entreated.
She hit him with a look that clearly said “you’d better”, but she did finally
go to find her robes.
Harry suppressed a grimace and went to get fitted for his own robes.
The atmosphere in the robe shop was tense while Harry’s group and the Malfoys
coexisted in mutual silence.
“It was pleasant meeting you, Heir Potter,” Narcissa said when they were ready
to leave.
“You as well, Lady Malfoy,” Harry smiled pleasantly enough as he bent over her
hand again.  “Heir Malfoy,” he nodded to Draco when he’d straightened, “I’ll
see you at school.”
Draco’s jaw was visibly clenched as he seemed to be strenuously forcing himself
to act as his breeding commanded.  “Heir Potter,” he said stiffly through
clenched teeth.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for controlling that situation,” Madam Malkin sighed as
she worked on Harry’s robes after the Malfoys had left.  “Some kids these
days…” she shook her head in exasperation.
“I was happy to help, Madam,” he assured her.
“You know young Malfoy requested five extra robes after you offered to pay for
him,” she muttered warningly.
Harry just chuckled.  He wasn’t surprised in the slightest.  “That’s fine,
madam.  Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t consider the offense worth more.”
“He did,” she smiled conspiratorially.  “His mother wouldn’t let him get more
than five extra.”
Harry grinned at that, but sobered quickly as the clothier continued to work. 
Narcissa wasn’t Marked, but Harry could feel the black magic radiating off
Draco’s Mark from across the room.  That automatic sense of magic seemed to
have come when Harry’s core was unbound, not that that surprised him given the
way his magic had improved.  He may not be fond of the prat, but he wouldn’t
wish being a slave to Voldemort on anyone.  And he highly suspected that Draco
didn’t really have the stomach to be a Death Eater.  He wondered how long he’d
survive.
They did eventually get out of the robe shop.  Ron had apparently decided that
he wasn’t talking to Harry and was only glaring in the opposite direction. 
Ginny didn’t seem to know what to make of the situation.  Hermione looked
exasperated by Ron’s behavior.  Harry had overheard her a few times in the
store trying to reason with him that there really hadn’t been any sense in
starting a fight and that he could have gotten expelled for it if he’d actually
cast any spells.  Ron clearly hadn’t wanted to listen.
They met up with everyone else at Flourish and Blotts, and from the bookstore,
they made their way to the newly established Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.  Harry
was thoroughly impressed by the shop that somehow managed to defy the
gloominess of the rest of the alley with sheer cheek.
Shortly after they got inside, Fred and George pulled Harry into the back for a
tour.
“We’ve just developed this more serious line,” said Fred.  “Funny how it
happened…”
“You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry,
can’t even do a decent shield charm,” said George.  “‘Course, they didn’t have
you teaching them, Harry.”
“That’s right…  Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know,
challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the
jinx just bounces off.  But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its
support staff!  And we’re still getting massive orders!”
Harry shook his head.  Sadly, he could believe that.
“So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves…”
“…I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for
minor to moderate hexes or jinxes…”
“And then we thought we’d get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark
Arts, because it’s such a money spinner,” George continued enthusiastically. 
“That is cool.  Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we’re importing it from Peru. 
Handy if you want to make a quick escape.”
“And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look,” said Fred,
pointing at a number of weird-looking black horn-like objects that were indeed
attempting to scurry out of sight.  “You just drop one surreptitiously and
it’ll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion
if you need one.”
“Handy,” Harry smiled.
“Here,” said George, catching a couple and throwing them to Harry.
“Thanks,” Harry grinned, stuffing them in a pocket.  He eyed them briefly, but
he couldn’t believe that these two would have been involved with the contract. 
And it they were…  Well, it was probably worth the risk to find out.  “Hey
guys…”
A young witch with short blond hair poked her head around the curtain.  She was
wearing magenta staff robes.  “There’s a customer out here looking for a joke
cauldron, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,” she said.
“Right you are, Verity, I’m coming,” George nodded before turning back to
Harry.  “As you can see, we’re a bit busy right now, Harry, but what did you
need?” he inquired.
Harry sighed.  This wasn’t exactly a conversation that could be had quickly. 
“Look, I need to talk to you guys about something important.  Something
absolutely top secret.  I should be settling in at headquarters in a few days,
and I’ll be there the rest of the summer.  Do you think you two could stop by
to talk?”
Both Weasleys became very serious in response.  “‘Course we can, Harry.”
“Send us an owl when you get there and we’ll stop by, yeah?”
“That’d be great guys.  Thanks,” Harry smiled.  “But when I say top secret, I
mean it.  Don’t even mention to anyone that I want to talk to you, okay?”
The redheads exchanged grim looks, but they both nodded.  “Will do, Harry.”
“All right,” George said briskly.  “We’ve got to get out there, but, Harry, you
help yourself to anything you want, all right?  No charge.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he could see that they weren’t going to
budge.  Instead, he smiled.  “I just may take advantage of that.”
“Do,” Fred said forcefully.  “We owe you, Harry.”
Harry followed them back into the main showroom and stopped in his tracks when
he found Ginny perusing the love potions.  He silently but firmly instructed
Knowledge to never let him eat or drink anything without checking it for
potions first.  While Fred talked to Ginny, Harry pulled George aside.  “Do
you, by any chance, sell antidotes for love potions?  Or even better,
immunizations?”
George grinned at him, “Blimey, Harry.  You sound worried.”
“I am,” Harry grimaced, glancing at Ginny again.
George followed his gaze and lifted an eyebrow curiously.  “We don’t have any
preventative for love potions, but that’s a brilliant idea, Harry.  If we get
that worked out, we’ll send you a crate.”
“Or two,” Harry nodded.  “And if you need any extra capital to fund research
and development on that one, you let me know.”
George eyed him a bit strangely for a moment, but then he nodded.  “Will do,
Harry.”
When Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were distracted by Pigmy Puffs, Harry noticed Draco
moving passed the window outside, looking mightily suspicious throwing glances
over his shoulder as he was.
Harry glanced back at Mrs. Weasley, who was apparently extremely distracted by
the balls of fluff.
“Wonder what he’s up to,” Hermione frowned warily.  Ron was sulking elsewhere,
still refusing to look at Harry.
“I don’t know,” Harry noted, but silently added that Malfoy seemed to have the
right idea.  Harry could use a little detour as well.  “I’m going to go find
out.  Cover for me,” he said, already pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his
pocket.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione fretted.  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…”
“Don’t worry,” Harry soothed.  “I promise not to do anything stupid.  I’ll just
be a few minutes, really.”
Before she could complain again, he slipped on his cloak and ghosted out the
door.
Once he was well away from Wheezes, he took off the cloak and used a color-
changing charm he’d taught himself specifically for his contacts which
prevented him from having to change them to enjoy the benefits of changing his
eyes color.  He then flipped up the hood of his regular cloak and strolled into
Knockturn Alley, which didn’t seem nearly as intimidating as it used to between
his growing confidence in his ability to defend himself and his previous
successful shopping trip there.
He caught a glimpse of Malfoy at Borgin and Burkes as he moved passed, but he
wasn’t too interested in what he was doing there.  Oh, it might have been nice
to know, but gawking was one thing that one did not do in Knockturn unless one
wanted to draw a lot of negative attention.  That was blindingly obvious to
anyone paying attention.  He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for today,
but he knew that he didn’t have very much time if he didn’t want his
disappearance to be noted.
A shop with a picture of a basilisk on the sign caught his attention.  The sign
over the door read, “Pure Silver”, which Harry thought, combined with the
picture, was most likely an allusion to pureblood and Slytherin House.
He slipped inside a dimly lit shop that reminded him slightly of Borgin and
Burkes for the fact that it seemed to carry a wide variety of merchandise.  He
automatically gravitated toward the bookshelves in the back.
On the very top shelf in the corner, almost hidden by shadow, he noticed a
small collection of black leather-bound books.  He squinted at the words on the
spine.  They read only Volume 1 through Volume 13.  It wasn’t very interesting
by itself, but there was something about the manner of the letters that
intrigued him.  He reached for it and let his magic brush over the books before
touching, but he didn’t feel anything aggressive, so he lifted the first one
and looked at the silver letters embossed on the front in that same strange
script.
The Rise and Fall of Serpents: Volume 1, was the title.
Harry quickly tore his eyes away to look over his shoulder when he felt someone
approaching behind him.
“Can I help you to find anything, sir?” a stooped old man inquired before his
eyes fell to the book Harry held.  “That’s written in parselscript,” the man
said proudly before ruefully adding, “Not that anyone can read it,” under his
breath, likely not intending to be heard.  “Quite rare,” he said more clearly. 
“A thousand galleons for the lot.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, already knowing that he was going to buy it if it cost
him five times that much.  He hadn’t even known that there was such a thing as
parselscript, but he’d be damned if he didn’t find out what these were about. 
“Rare, they may be, but they’re still books that can’t be read.  I’ll give you
five hundred.”
The man’s eyes widened slightly as he apparently hadn’t expected that Harry
would buy them at all.  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded, “Well
enough, good sir.  Well enough.  Right this way,” he nodded toward the front
desk.
Harry drew his wand and levitated the pile of books over to the desk in front
of him.  He really loved being able to do magic with impunity.  He retrieved
his expanded coin purse from his pocket and poured into the bowl on the scale
until it read 500, then tucked it away and shrunk the books to slip them into
his pocket.
“Nice doing business with you, sir,” the old man grinned once he had the
money.  “Come back any time.  I get new stock in often.”
Harry just gave him a nod and strode out of the shop.  With any luck, he’d make
it back before he was missed.  Of course, because his luck couldn’t be good
without being bad, Harry literally bumped into Malfoy coming out of Borgin and
Burkes.  The blonde’s eyes widened comically when he realized who he’d run
into, and then they narrowed suspiciously.
“Spying on me, then, Potter?” he snarled unpleasantly.
Harry just lifted an amused eyebrow in response.  “Hardly, Malfoy,” he smirked
in return, already beginning to move again, though he remained on high alert
for an attack in the back.  He didn’t really think Malfoy would try it, even in
Knockturn, being that he ought to know by now that he couldn’t take Harry in a
duel, but Harry wasn’t dumb enough to get arrogant about it and make
assumptions.
His guess proved accurate however, when, rather than attacking, Malfoy was
suddenly pacing at his side.  “What are you doing here then, Potter?” he
demanded.
“Shopping,” Harry replied blandly.
“In Knockturn Alley,” he said doubtfully, his voice pitched low to avoid
drawing attention.  Even Malfoy didn’t want to draw undue attention here.  Not
when he was alone.
“I believe that’s what I said,” Harry said mildly.
Malfoy sneered at him.  “What’s with you, Potter?  Acting like a pureblood with
my mother?  Wandering around Knockturn Alley?  Careful, your loyal subjects
might start to wonder about you.”
“We’ve all got to grow up sometime, Malfoy,” Harry said grimly as they
reentered the brighter Diagon Alley.
Malfoy didn’t quite seem to know how to respond to that, but whatever he might
have said was lost when a sharp, “Draco!” was heard from up ahead.
They both looked up to find Narcissa hurrying toward them, though her step
faltered slightly when her eyes met Harry’s.
He quickly drew his wand and surreptitiously canceled the color charm on his
contacts, which neither Malfoy missed.
“Draco,” Harry said quietly before Narcissa reached them.  “I know what the
Dark Lord is like.  If you ever need help, I’ll do what I can.”
Malfoy froze in his tracks and Harry paused to turn and face him.
“What?” Malfoy gasped, his face giving a new definition to the word “pale”.
“You heard me,” Harry said seriously.  “It’s not a joke.  You don’t have to
choose between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord.  There’s another choice.”
“Draco, where did you wander off to?” Narcissa asked pleasantly as she joined
them, though her eyes were assessing them both shrewdly, with emphasis on
Draco’s pale face.  “Heir Potter.  I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon.”
“Oh, Draco and I just bumped into each other,” Harry smiled pleasantly.  “I
really must be going now.  Draco, keep it in mind, hm?”  With a polite nod, he
excused himself and hurried back to Wheezes, where he eased inside, happy to
find that no one had noticed his entrance and the general lack of panic
suggested that he hadn’t been missed.
“So what was Malfoy up to?” Hermione whispered intently.
“Shopping in Knockturn, looked like,” Harry shrugged.
She frowned deeply.  “You didn’t see what he bought?”
Harry shook his head, “No, but he was at Borgin and Burkes, which is basically
a dark junk shop, so it could have been almost anything.”
===============================================================================
 
Harry hid out in Ron’s room with his books when they got back to the Burrow. 
The first thing he did was assimilate all of the parselscript books.  The
script itself was fascinating.  It wasn’tEnglish, just as he wasn’t speaking
English when he spoke the language.  It was simply so natural to him that it
felt like his first language, which was why he’d confused it with English when
he was young.  If he wasn’t paying attention, he could still do so now.
When he went to sleep that night, he made his way directly to the library and
sat at a table where the books were already assembled.  Knowledge took a seat
across from him. 
“The books are an account of the rise and fall of the naga,” Knowledge said
without needing any prompting.  “They were a manner of creature with origins
predating the written word.  As centaurs are a cross between man and horse,
naga were a cross between man and snake.  There were many tribes throughout
history, usually relatively small in size.  Depending on the specific race,
they lived in deserts, swamps, jungles, tundra, and even the sea.  These books
specifically, were written by a naga named Freeshis, which of course is
parseltongue that roughly translates to Warm Breath of Morning.
“Freeshis was among the last of the naga, his tribe the last that stood.  He
was young when his parents and several of his siblings were killed, and he knew
that the end of their kind was coming.  So, he devoted his life to scouring the
world for everything he could find on the history of the naga.  What he found,
he compiled into these thirteen volumes, enchanted with the most powerful
spells known to his people with the hope that they would survive the ages to
come – to preserve them through memory and to warn others of their mistakes. 
This is the full set of them, but he does mention the existence of a series of
journals that detailed his life and trials while he watched his race dwindle. 
Evidently, he passed these books and his journals down to his descendants, tied
to his blood to keep the enchantments on them strong as long as a single living
person bore the smallest trace of his blood.  Since the enchantments are
obviously still in effect, it is safe to say some of his line yet lives.”
“Didn’t you say that the naga died out, though?” Harry frowned curiously.
Knowledge nodded.  “The naga did.  Yes.  That does not mean that all of their
blood died out.  It was, apparently, possible for the naga to breed with
magical humans, though their serpentine traits did not carry dominantly.  Their
more human offspring did, however, carry some specific naga traits.  First, was
their instinctive understanding of the snake tongue.”  He stopped then and
lifted an eyebrow meaningfully.
Harry spent a few moments working to lift his jaw.  Maybe it shouldn’t have
surprised him so much, but…  Well, he knew that most of the pureblood lines had
creature blood somewhere in there.  Mostly it was werewolves, veela, vampires,
sirens, kelpies, and the occasional ogre and giant.  There was just one
problem.  “I’m the first Potter to be a parselmouth, Dumbledore said so.  How
come the trait just appeared in me?  I thought it was the demon that made me a
parselmouth.  Or was Dumbledore just lying to me?” he wouldn’t put it passed
the old bastard.
“I don’t have enough information to form a guess about the last,” Knowledge
shrugged.  “It is possible that he was simply mistaken, seeing as he couldn’t
possibly know what we’ve learned through these books.  As to why you’re the
first Potter to bear the trait…  Well, that’s rather simple, actually.  You
see, there’s more than just the language that was passed from the naga to their
children.  Most relevant at the moment is coloring.  Each race of naga had very
distinctive coloring, usually directly related to the terrain in which they
thrived.  This coloring was passed onto their more human offspring.  The first
generations often had complete naga coloring – skin, hair, and eyes.  As the
naga blood grew more diluted, the skin color was lost first, and then the hair
color.  The eyes, however, seemed to linger throughout the generations.”
“I have my mother’s eyes,” Harry whispered in dawning understanding.
“You do,” Knowledge smirked in reply.  “Every magical human since the
introduction of naga blood would have borne the same striking color.  Our
mother was not born of muggles, but a very long line of squibs.  As the first
magical in the family in untold generations, she picked up the eye color.  And
I am willing to bet, were you ever able to get Petunia to talk about it, that
she could confirm that neither of her parents had bright green eyes, nor her
grandparents on whichever side the squibs were.”
“So I’m descended from the now-extinct naga,” Harry said numbly.  “On my
mother’sside.”  He’d never before even thought to imagine that he’d inherited
anything magical from his mother’s side – for obvious reasons.  “Wait, doesn’t
that mean that she would have been a parselmouth as well?”
Knowledge nodded matter-of-factly.  “Without doubt.  However, she was said to
have been a very clever witch.  It’s highly likely that she discovered early on
that parselmouths bore a very poor reputation and simply chose to conceal her
gift.  In fact, I’d wager that parselmouths are considerably more common than
anyone realizes.  Most simply know to keep it secret.”
Harry grimaced, wishing that he’d figured that out before second year.  If he
hadn’t been working so hard to suppress any and all desire to learn, he
probably would have had the forethought to learn enough about the wizarding
world to figure that out by then.  Hermione had known it, after all.  Probably
all he’d have had to do is read Hogwarts: A History, as it was most likely
discussed in relation to Salazar Slytherin.
Harry ended up spending half of that night doing nothing but reading the
parselscript books.  Freeshis had, of course, known human languages, being as
well-traveled as he was by the time he inked the books.  He’d deliberately
written them in the snake script so that humans wouldn’t be able to read it. 
Magical humans were something that Freeshis hated with a frighteningly
pathological obsession similar to Voldemort’s feelings for muggles.  Not that
Harry blamed the naga in the slightest.
The basic gist of the books was that the naga had never much been involved in
the wizarding world.  They’d kept mostly to themselves for millennia.  Then,
the “rise” of their people came in the form of a magical plague that had swept
through Africa.  It didn’t affect muggles, but it was killing off magical
humans in droves somewhere around five thousand years ago.  A naga healer had
decided to help, and through parselmagic healing spells, the plague was cured. 
Naga were heralded as saviors, and the first large-scale comingling of humans
and naga began.  Within a few generations, there were mixed villages, and the
naga were revered for their healing abilities – that was actually the origin of
the caduceus. 
For millennia, they thrived, and the magical humans came to respect them for
more than their healing abilities.  Naga enchanters and warders became highly
sought-after for the unique magicks they were able to work.  For a time, they
were seen almost as Gods.
That lasted until somewhere around five hundred B.C. when a dark lord named
Kamir’Vizahn decided that hewanted to be the one worshipped instead.  He led a
crusade to purge the naga from the wizarding world, decrying them as demons. 
And, as history is written by the victors, within a few generations, the
magical humans had forgotten that Kamir had been a dark lord, and instead
continued to worship his memory as a prophet.  The naga were vilified as
incarnations of evil, which is where the superstition about parselmouths being
dark apparently started.
Despite their best efforts, the naga tribes were too divided and were unable to
quell the human uprising.  It spread like locust through the areas less
familiar with the species and it was soon a “fact” that naga were creatures of
evil.  And so they began to hunt the naga all across the world.
By the first century A.D. the naga were all but extinct.  Freeshis procreated
with a quarter naga in hopes that his descendants may survive while his species
died.  Clearly, that had been successful.  He’d apparently used some kind of
rituals to increase the odds of his kin lasting the ages, but he didn’t go into
exactly what those rituals were.  That information was evidently in his
journals.
Obviously, the books were written well before Salazar Slytherin was born, but
Harry could only guess that, after pretty much all the naga were gone, the
fervor about them had waned since he knew that Slytherin had been fairly
respected at one point and a known parselmouth.
===============================================================================
 
9 August 1996 - Friday
Friday morning after breakfast, Mrs. Weasley announced that they would all be
moving to Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer.  Harry blanked his face
at hearing the news lest they see the annoyed sneer trying to form.  He was
virtually certain that it was because of his demand to stay at Grimmauld that
the entire family was relocating.  He’d told Dumbledore that his friends could
visit and that the Order could use the house.  Clearly, he should have been
much more specific.  Honestly, it was like trying to deal with Kreacher.
Harry didn’t object though.  To do so now would only draw undue suspicion to
his motives that he really did not need to deal with.
They were all told to pack up and be ready to leave right after lunch.  Harry
wandered outside instead.  He was already packed since he’d not broken his
habit of keeping his possessions in his trunk and his trunk in his pocket.  He
didn’t want to risk losing any of it – particularly his books, which were
probably worth a fortune by themselves – and he didn’t want to leave anything
out for anyone to snoop through anyway.
He wandered down to the nearby swimming hole and found a comfortable seat
against a tree, then closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and worked on one
of the new meditation exercises Knowledge had suggested.  It had been in some
of the older books from the Black vault, and there had been mentions of it in
the grimoire as well.
Apparently, in times before wands – which only became popular around the time
of the Founders – when any magical focus was cumbersome and rudimentary,
magical humans had learned to do wandless magic through meditation.  The trick
was to learn to draw out the magic from your core without the assistance of a
focus.  In addition to casting spells, your magic could be used this way to
monitor or explore your surroundings, identify and examine wards, and sense
incoming spells among other things.  Harry’s now mature, unbound magic was
already performing a rudimentary form of the basic passive magicks just because
it was so powerful that the standard magical radiation given off by all magical
creatures was considerably more potent.  In essence, everyone’s magic did
that.  It was just so weak that they didn’t notice it much without training. 
Harry was willing to bet that Dumbledore and Voldemort, at least, had
experienced the same thing.  And they’d almost certainly both trained the skill
by now.  The fact that Dumbledore had never asked Harry if he could do this or
offered to train him despite apparently believing him Voldemort’s equal highly
suggested that he knew about Harry’s magical blocks, and if he hadn’t
engineered them, he’d clearly not tried to remove them or even seen fit to
inform Harry about them.
It really seemed like the more Harry learned, the more of Dumbledore’s crimes
came to light.
Harry first meditated on putting himself into the trance-like state somewhere
between sleeping and awake.  Once he accomplished that, he should be able to
see and control his mindscape just as he could when he was asleep, but also
retain awareness of the waking world around him.  With enough practice it was –
theoretically – possible to slip in and out of his mindscape without anyone
being able to even tell that anything had happened.  True masters were supposed
to be able to hold a conversation while fully cognizant within their
mindscapes.  Harry had no doubt that he was still a great deal of practice away
from achieving that.
At the moment, he needed to reach his magical core without going completely
into his mindscape.  From there, he could start learning to reach his core in
the waking world.  Only when he could do that relatively easily would he be
able to start trying to cast wandless spells.  If he ever wanted to use it
effectively in a duel, for example, he’d need to be able to access the magic
very quickly and without having to stop and think about it.  He had to train
himself to pull on that magic instead of counting on his wand to do it for him.
Harry had no plans to give up using his wand, but he’d been rendered helpless
in absence of his wand before, and he really didn’t care for the feeling. 
In the couple hours that he spent there before lunch, he made what he hoped
could be categorized as “progress”, but it wasn’t really significant enough for
him to be certain.  Mostly, he just felt like he was reaching a higher level of
waking calm in his mind than he’d managed before.  It was slightly frustrating
that it was going so slowly, but at least the meditation was relaxing.  By the
time he headed in for lunch, he’d managed to banish most of his stress brought
on by the announcement that he was going to have a lot of uninvited guests
while he settled into his new home.  That calm was tested when he walked into
the chaos of the Burrow and remembered that he would be bringing that with him
– including at least three people that he’d have liked nothing more than hex
into oblivion.
After lunch was finished, there was about half an hour of chaos as everyone
rushed around to grab last minute things they’d forgotten.  Finally, they all
gathered around a length of rope.  Luckily, the portkey was set to a password
rather than a time-limit, or they’d have almost certainly missed it.  The fact
that the password was Butterscotch Balls made it clear who they had to thank
for the transportation.
They landed on the street in front of Grimmauld Place where Dumbledore was
waiting for them.
“Ah, there you are,” he twinkled merrily.  “The Fidelius is prepared, Harry. 
If you’ll just step over here, I’ll complete the charm, and then, of course,
you’ll have to remind us all of where we are.”
Harry nodded and stepped forward.  Knowledge, happily, was aware of the charm
and able to confirm that Dumbledore cast it correctly without modifications or
qualifications, which was comforting, at least.  When it was done, Dumbledore
blinked and looked around before focusing on Harry again. 
“Ah, Harry, my boy.  I believe you have something to tell me?”
Harry fought the urge to leave the lot of them standing on the sidewalk with no
knowledge of his house.  “Perhaps you can raise a silencing ward around us,
sir?” he asked instead.  It would hardly be productive, after all, if anyone
spying on what had been until moments ago known to be the House of Black could
hear him give the Secret.
“Ah.  An excellent idea,” Dumbledore twinkled while Harry tried to imagine what
Mad-Eye would say if he was there.  No doubt something less than flattering
about Dumbledore’s lack of vigilance.
Harry waited until the spell was cast – he could feel that it surrounded their
group but went no further – and then spoke for all of them to hear.  He’d find
other ways to keep out the unwanted Weasleys after he was safely married.  He
could always adjust the wards to block them specifically – which he knew from
studying the family grimoire.  “The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black is
located at Twelve Grimmauld Place.”
He watched as they all gained the knowledge of and ability to see the house,
then led the way to the front door.  As soon as he touched the handle, he felt
his magic stir through the ring and interact with the wards and the door
clicked open.
The candles and lamps all flared to life as he stepped inside and Harry froze
on the threshold, his eyes wide with shock.
“Well, it seems that Kreacher was unable to find a way around your orders, my
boy,” Dumbledore said cheerfully from behind him.
Harry could only nod as he stepped inside a room that bore virtually no
resemblance to the house he’d seen last summer.  It gleamed and sparkled, the
floors shone, the wallpaper was at least six shades lighter, and actually an
attractive greenish gray once all the grime was gone, and the air even smelled
fresh and clean.  The magic of the house wrapped around him in welcome.
“Well, this is much better,” Mrs. Weasley sighed happily from behind him.  “All
right, you kids,” she whispered, “go and put your things in your rooms.  The
same that you used last year, I think.”
Harry headed up first, and walked right passed the room he’d used last summer.
“Where you going, mate?” Ron stopped him as he approached the next staircase.
“This is my house now,” Harry shrugged, “I’ll be staying in the master suite.” 
He’d be damned if he was going to endure the lack of space and privacy inherent
to sharing a room with someone that he didn’t trust when he was in his own
house.  Sirius had never claimed the master suite, but that was because of his
issues with his parents – not to mention that he probably hadn’t wanted to
clean the large room, and hadn’t been able to get Kreacher to do it.  Or, more
accurately, hadn’t forced Kreacher to do it for whatever reason.
Ron huffed sulkily and slammed the door behind him.
Harry just shook his head and continued up to the master suite, which was
comprised of a sitting room, bedroom, walk-in wardrobe, and bathroom.  Also, he
was pleased to find, there was a connecting door between the sitting room and
the adjacent study.  A look around and he was sure that he’d have to evaluate
most of the stuff in the room before it would be safe to touch it, but at least
he had his own office.
He was just coming out of the bedroom after examining it when Hermione stormed
into the room.
“We’re at your house,” she pointedly reminded.
Harry smiled and moved to close the doors, then drew his wand and threw up the
strongest privacy wards that he’d learned – which were really strong.  He also
reached out to the house wards so that he’d know if anyone approached the door
or tried to tamper with it.
“Harry!” Hermione gasped when he turned to face her again.  “What did you do? 
You’re going to be expelled!”
“Relax, Hermione,” Harry chastised as he moved to sit near the fireplace and
casually lit it.  “I’m allowed to do magic whenever I want to now.”
“How?” she demanded as she plopped herself down in a facing chair.
In answer, Harry reached into his robe and pulled out the Black family ring. 
She grimaced when she got a look at it.  “This is the Black family ring, worn
by Lord Black.  Sirius willed it to me.”
She gaped at him for a moment.  “And that means that you can do magic?” she
finally asked.
He nodded, “The stipulations on assuming lordship vary by family and can be set
by a lord before he passes.  These stipulations often include a minimum age at
which an heir can ascend.  Eleven is the youngest allowed, but most demand at
least fourteen or fifteen.  The Black Family in particular has no restriction
on that, and Sirius didn’t name one, probably since I was old enough by his
reckoning.  It’s not possible for a minor to be the Lord of a Noble House.  The
process of accepting the lordship enacts magical maturity.  The moment that I
put on this ring, I was magically emancipated.  My magical core matured.  I can
now use magic without restriction, and I’ll be able to get my apparation
license as soon as I’ve learned how to do it.”
She was quiet for a long moment and Harry could practically see her referencing
everything that she knew to figure out if she’d heard of that or anything that
might contradict it.  Finally, she focused on him again.  “When did this
happen?” she asked shrewdly.
“I accepted the Lordship on the twelfth of July.”
She frowned at him, then shook her head slowly.  “Why didn’t you tell anyone
sooner?  Why did you leave the Dursleys?  What’s with all these secrets?  Why
are you so different since the end of the year?” she asked rapidly.
Harry sighed and settled back further in his chair.  “I assume that you heard
what I told Dumbledore…”
“Professor Dumbledore,” she automatically inserted.
He ignored the interruption, “…about the blood wards on Privet Drive being
useless.”
She nodded.
“That’s all true.”
“How did you learn so much about blood magic?  And don’t tell me that you were
sneaking away to the restricted section, Harry, because I’ve spent too much
time with you to believe that you were disappearing that often without my
knowing.  And while we’re on that, how did you learn enough Arithmancy and
Ancient Runes to take the tests?”
Harry smiled.  “Okay, I’m just going to start at the beginning, but you have to
swear to me that you won’t tell anyone about this.”
“Of course,” she said immediately, frowning at the fact that he’d even had to
mention it.
He sighed, “I mean anyone, Hermione.  That includes Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs.
Weasley, and even Ron.”
Her eyes widened and she looked a bit nervous.  “Harry, are you sure that you
should be keeping things from Professor Dumbledore?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.  “Yes, I am very sure, and I think that you
will be as well by the time I’m done explaining.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
Harry took a deep breath.  “Okay, so you remember what I told you about the
prophecy, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I think I’ve discovered that power that Voldemort isn’t supposed to know
about.  And it’s notlove.”
She leaned forward further in her chair.  “What is it?”
“About a week into the summer, I tried – reallytried – to clear my mind before
I went to sleep.  I was… still really grieving, and the Dursleys were being…
difficult.  I wasn’t in a good place.  Anyway, I actually managed to clear my
mind, and when I fell asleep…  I found myself in my mindscape.  I seem to have
an extremely evolved, instinctive grasp of occlumency.”
Her jaw dropped.  “But how…?  How could you not have…  I mean, when Professor
Snape was teaching you last year…”
Harry nodded, “Yeah, I know.  I was…” he sighed heavily.  “I never really
wanted to learn it, Hermione.  I was convinced that my connection to Voldemort
was the only thing that I could do to help the Order, so I wasn’t trying.  Oh,
I put in some token effort.  I didn’t truly admit to myself that I didn’t want
it to work, but I know now that that’s what happened.  I was subconsciously
preventing myself from succeeding.  It wasn’t until this summer when I was at
an emotional rock-bottom and utterly desperate for any relief from the pain and
exhaustion that I finally wantedit to work.”  He shook his head, “I was an
idiot, and it cost Sirius his life.”
“Oh, Harry…” she started to protest.
Harry held up a hand to forestall her.  “I know that I’m not the only one at
blame here.  Sirius shouldn’t have gone after me.  Really, going into the
Ministry considering that he was to be Kissed on sight?  I don’t blame him for
risking himself to try to save me, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t partly
his fault.  It was Kreacher’s fault for lying to me.  It was my fault for not
learning occlumency and for not thinking it through.  Mostly though, it was
Dumbledore’s fault.  He confessed to me at the end of last year that he
suspected Voldemort would try to lure me to the Department of Mysteries with a
false vision.  He knew exactly what Voldemort was going to do.  If he’d shared
his suspicion, I’d have been much more cautious.”
He shook that line of thought.  “Anyway, this has nothing to do with who was at
fault for what happened last year.  The point is that I finally wantedto calm
my mind, and it worked.  My mind was chaotic, damaged, and virtually
unprotected against Voldemort or anyone else.  That’s what I discovered that
night.  The way that I was able to access my mind though…”  He shook his head. 
“Hermione, the level of innate control that I have is almost unheard of.  Not
only can I protect and organize my mind from my mindscape, but I can access my
unconscious mind and my memories with perfect recall.
“Thatis how I learned Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Blood magic in a month. 
I’ve learned a lot more, too, including pureblood customs and etiquette.  I
have, essentially, a photographic memory, but it’s even more than that.  It’s
like I have a computer search engine in my brain capable of accessing and
cross-referencing everything I have ever learned in seconds – even things that
I hadn’t realized I’d learned.  That, I believe, is my prophesized ‘power’.”
Hermione blinked at him in shock for a long moment before visibly shaking
herself.  “I don’t understand why you don’t want Professor Dumbledore to know
about that, Harry.  It…  This could be reallyimportant!”
Harry shook his head, “Hermione, I haven’t even told you the half of it.  I…” 
He took a deep breath.  “I learned something else when I went to Gringotts.” 
Harry ignored the irrational urge to look over his shoulder and make sure they
were alone.  He could feel through the wards that there was no one else in the
rooms with them and his privacy warding was preventing anyone from
eavesdropping.  “Dumbledore,” he ground out in such a way that she didn’t even
correct his neglect of the man’s title, “as my magical guardian, signed a
marriage contract for me.”
She gasped with all the horror that he’d expected.  “What?!”
“It goes into effect the moment that I accept the Potter lordship, from which
time, I have one month to magically bond myself – until death– to Ginny.”
It took Hermione almost a minute to regain the ability to speak, but it was
clear that she’d just been building up to the proper level of outrage.  “How
can he do that?!  You don’t actually have to go through with it, do you?  I
mean, there must be some kind of clause…  Surely, he couldn’t do this without
your consent!”
“Unfortunately, he can.  As my magical guardian, until my magical majority, he
had the right to sign any magical contract in my name.  It is binding,
unfortunately, and should I try to back out, I will be the next thing to a
squib.”
She looked like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or break something as
she surged out of her chair and began to pace the sitting room.  “Why would he
do that to you and Ginny?” she finally demanded.
Harry sighed, “Just to me, Hermione.  Ginny’s signature was on the contract.”
There were tears in her eyes once she’d comprehended that.  “What?” she
breathed in horror.  “Ginny wouldn’t…  Would she?”
“She did,” Harry shrugged.  “You can’t forge a signature on a magically binding
contract – I looked that up.  It won’t take if you’re under any kind of mind-
controlling effect, either.  Of course, her consent wasn’t actually needed
since she’s a minor and both of her parents signed…”
“They did?” Hermione sighed as she sank back into her chair.
“Yes.  It’s traditional in some families for the minor children to sign the
marriage contract to document their agreement to the union but obviously
Dumbledore didn’t feel that was necessary with me.  Even worse, he instructed
my account manager at Gringotts to withhold revealing the existence of the
contract until after I’d assumed the Potter lordship.  If I hadn’t asked him
directly, which forced him to choose between upholding the wishes of my
guardian and keeping with Gringotts policy of honestly answering any direction
question for a client, I wouldn’t have known.”
“There has to be something that we can do,” Hermione insisted.  “The entire
institution of arranged marriages is not only archaic, but unethical, when the
participants don’t even get a choice…” she muttered to herself.
“I’ve looked into it pretty thoroughly, Hermione,” Harry sighed.  “There is no
way out of the contract unless I refuse to accept the lordship. 
Unfortunately,” he added before she could get any ideas, “my father had a lot
of faith in Dumbledore.  He stipulated before his death that if I was unwilling
or unable to accept the Potter lordship within one year of being notified that
I was eligible, the entire thing goes to Dumbledore, probably a precaution in
case I ended up like Neville’s parents.
“And…”  Harry sighed.  “I assume that you know what a bride price is.”
She nodded, “Similar to a dowry, it is a price paid by the groom’s family to
the bride’s family.”
Harry nodded grimly.  “Apparently, anything between five thousand and twenty-
five thousand galleons would be considered an acceptable bride price for me to
marry Ginny.  The price stipulated on the contract is a quarter of a million
galleons.”
Hermione’s eyes widened as she processed the implications, and she actually
looked a little sick.  “They’re doing this to you for money?”
“Apparently,” Harry said tiredly.  “So, the only choices that Dumbledore left
me is to marry Ginny, refuse the lordship to him, or keep the estate, but lose
my magic.  Considering his faith in the prophecy, I can’t imagine that he
thought there was any chance I’d choose the last option – which there isn’t.
“There is, however, one other option that I don’t think Dumbledore foresaw.”
“What?” she asked hopefully.
Harry sighed.  He knew that she wasn’t going to be greatly receptive to this
idea.  “He didn’t know that Sirius would name me his heir.  Even if he did give
me everything he owned, it’s quite unorthodox – particularly for a family like
the Blacks – to name an heir that isn’t of the Black family.  In fact, he might
even believe that it’s impossible.  The family magic could have rejected me no
matter what Sirius did, and given that I’m a halfblood…
“And Dumbledore didn’t know that there was an inactive marriage contract for
the Lord of House Black.  It was originally written for Sirius’ father, Orion,
but the woman who was supposed to marry him refused, gave up her magic, and
apparently married a muggle.  The Lord of House Prince, before his death,
recognized the woman’s halfblood son as his heir – as it was that or the family
would have died since he was the last of the line.  That son never accepted the
lordship of his house after learning of the contract with the Black family,
which had by then passed to Sirius.
“The point is that that contract is still there.  If the heir of House Prince
were to accept the Lordship, the Black-Prince contract would override the
Potter-Weasley contract.  So I’d still have to get married, but at least it
would be on my own terms and to a person who hasn’ttried to trap me into it.”
“Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” Hermione said dazedly. 
“You’re telling me that your plan to avoid marrying Ginny is to marry some
random… man.  You’re not even gay.  …Are you?”
Harry frowned at the question.  Somehow, his sexuality and the gender of his
potential spouses hadn’t even crossed his mind in his considerations.  It had
startled him when he’d first been told, but then he’d dismissed it.  After a
moment, he shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.  There are magical means of
producing a child regardless of the gender of your spouse, and… sex is in no
way necessary to the marriage or reproduction.”
“Okay, but…  Harry, you’re talking about getting married.  Do you really not
care if you’re in any way attracted to your spouse?”
“I can’t see how it matters,” he admitted curiously.
“Harry!  How can it notmatter?!  You’re talking about marriage!  And
magicalmarriage.  That’s for life, I hope you know!”
“Of course, I know, Hermione,” he attempted to placate her.  Really, this
wasn’t the point he’d imagined her getting upset about.  “But I’m talking about
an arranged marriage.  It doesn’t have anything to do with attraction.”
She stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language – one that she
didn’t know – and then shook her head slowly.  “Harry…”  She stopped,
apparently trying to figure out how to continue.  “You realize that you’re
giving up on…  On dating.  On falling in love?”
Harry sighed at the mention of that dreaded word.  “I don’t care about love,
Hermione.”
She looked purely scandalized.
He ran a hand roughly through his hair and tried to figure out how to explain
this.  “Look, I don’t think I was ever meant to fall in love.  It’s just… not
me.”
“Harry, how can you say that?!  Everyone is meant to fall in love!”
“Can we just agree to disagree on this point?” he asked hopefully.
“Not when you’re talking about entering into a magically binding marriage that
will last you the rest of your life!  Harry, someday you’re going to feel
differently, and then it’ll be too late.”
Harry shook his head sharply, “Hermione, you are missing the point here.  I
don’t haveany other choice.  I’m not choosingto enter into an arranged
marriage.  I’m only choosing the lesser of two evils.  I can either marry the
man that has just happened to be connected to me and this contract, or I can
marry the woman who would trap me into marriage against my will.  Those are my
only feasible options.”
Hermione visibly deflated.  “Do you even know who this man is?” she asked
dejectedly.
“Oh, you know my luck, Hermione,” he smiled grimly.  “It’s Snape.”
She gasped and then fell into a coughing fit.
Harry smirked mirthlessly while she recovered.
“Professor Snape?” she finally managed, her eyes about as round as they would
go.
Harry nodded.
“Harry that’s…  How can you…?  No.  No, Ginny would be better!”
Harry lifted an eyebrow at her, “Aren’t you the one always talking about how
Snape’s not that bad?”
“As a teacher,” she asserted forcefully.  “As a person!  Yes.  As a husband?! 
For you?!  Harry, he hatesyou!”
Harry nodded his agreement.  “Yeah.  And I’ve got about eleven months to
convince him to marry me.”
Hermione stared at him a moment, then buried her head between her knees, her
face in her hands and just kind of moaned for a minute or two.  “You can’t
possibly be serious,” she finally sat back to say.
“I’m completely serious,” Harry assured her.
***** Confessions and Proposals *****
===============================================================================
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 6
                           Confessions and Proposals
10 August 1996 - Saturday
Harry appeared in his comfortable sitting room and stood with a stretch.  He
knew what he wanted to do tonight, but he’d barely turned in that direction
when he started badly at suddenly finding himself face-to-face with Corvus
Black again.
“Ah… what are you doing here?” he asked uneasily.
The elder man just smirked at him.  “This is your mind, young Lord.  Should not
you know that?”
Harry nodded vaguely and had just thought to ask Knowledge when he appeared
next to them.  The Aspect was now a dignified thirty-ish.  He was dressed in
fine black robes that somehow just looked scholarly.  His hair was waist-
length, tied back neatly.  The somewhat disturbing part was that he was
starting to exude an air that Harry could only classify as… dark.  Quite
likely, he needed to work on including more “Light” knowledge to offset all the
Dark tomes he’d been absorbing.
That particular Aspect had grown considerably more than any other in the last
month, but maybe that wasn’t surprising with the way Harry had been greedily
drinking in all the knowledge he could lay hands on.
Harry just pointed at Corvus and lifted his eyebrows at Knowledge
questioningly.
“You have bonded with the magic of House Black,” Knowledge responded simply. 
“And with the family ring.  Something in how your mind and magic function
allowed this piece of the ancient Lord Black to enter your mind when you first
put on the ring.  It is reasonable to extrapolate that, so long as you remain
Lord Black, the connection that grants him entrance and autonomy within your
mindscape will remain as well.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.  “Okay…  What is he, exactly?”
“According to what is recorded in the grimoire, the original lord rings were
enchanted with a ritual that tied the lord’s memories into the ring with his
magic.”
Harry shuddered slightly at the uncomfortable parallel to another memory bound
within an object.  “Can he affect me in any way?”
“Beyond what he has already done in harmonizing your magic with that of the
Black family, no.  He holds no more power here.”
“You’re certain?”
Knowledge’s eyes unfocused for a few seconds while Harry knew he’d be double
and triple checking his information against everything else that he knew. 
“Yes,” he said at last.
Harry sighed with relief.
“It should be possible to bind his memory within the ring or at least imprison
him within a portion of your mindscape if you wish, but the only power he has
here is to converse with you.  Anything more, you would have to grant him.”
Harry nodded.
“If you care at all for my opinion, I’d just as soon not be imprisoned,” Corvus
smirked with a hint of underlying concern.  “I can offer you the wisdom I
gained throughout a long life and help you to understand and control the Black
family magic and wards around our properties.”
“Fair enough,” Harry allowed after a moment.  If the memory became annoying, he
could always imprison him later, and he really might be useful.  “Do you know
anything about removing obliviates?”
Corvus blinked in surprise.  “I’m afraid not.  I don’t believe that spell
existed when I was alive.”
Ah, well.  It had been worth a try.  Corvus and Knowledge joined him as he
started toward the deep archives.
“Obliviate comes from the Charms school of spells,” Knowledge explained while
they walked.  “Though it is also categorized within the Mind Arts.  With
elements of both legilimency and occlumency, obliviate delves within an
unprotected or under-protected mind to seek out a single memory or group of
memories.”  Harry had made a point to research this spell after discovering
that it had been done to him.  It was part of the reason he’d waited so long to
try this.  That and the fact that he was a little nervous to learn the truth.
“It then causes the memories to be forgotten,” Knowledge continued, “burying
them so deep within a mind that some believe they are entirely destroyed or
removed from the mind.  Of course, it’s not actually possible to remove or
destroy memories in any mind connected to a magical core, but they can be
virtually impossible to locate or rediscover.  If it is poorly done, it may
remove pieces of memories that were not intended, sometimes removing so many as
to leave the mind incapable of functioning productively.  It can also create
unrooted memory traps that will leave an individual with permanent, chronic
forgetfulness.
“If it is done with skill, but not finesse, it can remove the unwanted
memories, while leaving an obvious gap that results in the subject feeling as
though he’s forgetting something, or even being aware of the fact that he was
obliviated if he knows enough to suspect the tampering.  Finally, there are the
truly gifted, who can lock away memories with such a delicate touch that only a
master Occlumens has any hope of discovering the loss, and even then it is
highly unlikely that the memories can be recovered.  Unfortunately, we’re
dealing with the last,” he concluded as they came to a stop before the
unremarkable wall beyond which his memories lay.
“Don’t get too close,” Knowledge advised Corvus.  “This wall is a memory trap. 
It is the means with which obliviated memories are contained.  Any memory that
touches the trap will be pulled inside and none can get back out.  That is why
obliviated memories are so difficult to recover.  Within the mind, memories are
the most powerful substance.  This manner of construction ensures that memory
cannot be used to free memory.”
“Ingenious,” Corvus admired, though he did stand well back from the wall.  “I
assume that we don’t know who is responsible for this?”
“I have an idea,” Harry frowned at the wall.  “I only know three Legilimens
powerful enough to have done this.  Honestly, it could have been any of them,
but I’m reallyhoping that it wasn’t the man I’m planning to marry.  That…
wouldn’t be a good way to start.”
Corvus’ brow rose, “You’re already engaged?  He’s from a suitable family, I
hope.”
Harry smirked slightly at his ancestor, “Of course.  It’s the product of an old
contract between the Black and Prince families.”
“Prince?” Corvus smiled.  “I don’t know how well the family is doing now, but
in my day, they were one of the oldest and most powerful families in existence,
dating all the way back to the World Monarchy when the family ruled the entire
magical world.  When the monarchy was dissolved, the last crown prince named
himself Lord Prince.  Though they no longer ruled, they remained the wealthiest
and most influential family in my time, which was about a thousand years
later.”
Harry’s brow rose at the sudden influx of new information.  He was already glad
that he’d allowed his ancestor to stay.  “Freeshis mentioned a World Monarchy,
but only vaguely.  I don’t think he ever imagined that that might not be common
knowledge.  Well, that and he hated all magical humans with a pathological
intensity.”
“Freeshis?” Corvus wondered.  “That sounds like parseltongue.”
Harry nodded, “He was a naga.  He wrote a thirteen-volume collection of books
about the history and demise of his people.”
Corvus’ eyes widened, “Are you a parselmouth, then?”
Harry nodded, wondering what that would mean to Corvus, who had probably been
alive shortly after Freeshis.
A slow, satisfied smirk curled the old man’s lips.  “Young Lord, I’d have
accepted you into House Black on that alone had I known.  And you’re marrying a
Prince…  Is he highly placed in the family?”
“He’s the last of the family, actually,” Harry admitted.  “He is heir
currently, but he’ll be Lord if I can get him to agree to marry me.”
Corvus chuckled quietly, looking extremely pleased.  “And your soon-to-be
affianced is one of three individuals you believe capable of binding your
memories in this way?”
Harry nodded grimly as he looked at the wall again.
“He is powerful, then,” Corvus concluded with satisfaction.
Harry sighed, “I guess.  I still hope that he wasn’t responsible for this.  I’m
not… entirely sure what I’d do if he was.  I have tomarry him, but…  Well, I
dislike him now.  If I find out that he obliviated me, I will most likely hate
him in truth.”
“Then let us waste no more time in discerning the answer,” Knowledge suggested.
Harry nodded briskly and willed the rest of his advisors to join him.  “Okay. 
So…  How do I do this?” he prompted.
“This wall was constructed with magic,” Knowledge began.  “You must destroy it
with magic.  Hopefully, you are more powerful than the caster, as that will
make it considerably easier.”
Harry grimaced, “I kind of hope it wasn’t Voldemort, then,” though it would be
a lot easier on his mind if it was.  The problem was that he was having a hard
time imagining why Voldemort would have done that.  The man had always been
quite candid with him when they’d… met.  It was hard to imagine anything the
man would have wanted to make Harry forget – unless he’d discovered some
weakness…  But Voldemort generally never planned on Harry surviving their
encounters, so he wasn’t sure why he’d take such a precaution.
“Even if it was Voldemort,” Logic offered, “you should be able to manage it as
you can continue to feed power into it whereas he cannot affect it anymore.”
“You need to draw on your magic,” Knowledge continued.  “Draw deeply before
touching the wall.  Funnel it into the memory trap and you should be able to
feel the gaps within the spell’s construction.  Depending on how powerful the
caster was, you may be able to identify the gaps immediately or it may take
more time – more power.  If the caster was significantly more powerful than
you, you won’t be able to find them at all.  Of course, if you truly are
Voldemort’s equal, then it is exceedingly unlikely that there is anyone alive
that is significantly more powerful than you.”
Corvus perked up again.  “Who’s this Voldemort fellow, then?”
Harry frowned at him.  “You don’t know?”
“Well, no, lad.  I’ve been dead for the last two thousand years.”
“But when we talked last time, you said that your family’s been nearly
destroyed by following…” he struggled to remember the exact wording.
“I believe his exact words were, ‘My family has been nearly snuffed out of
existence for the choices of the last few Lords.  Always, we have been drawn to
power.  In my time, it made us great.  In recent times, it has nearly destroyed
us.  Perhaps, instead of following Power, it is time to lead with it’,”
Knowledge supplied.
“Ah,” Corvus nodded, “Of course.  I was referring to what I have gleaned
through the family magic.  I can feel each and every member of the family and
his or her health.  I can feel when family magic is bound to outside magic
through marriage or other magical means.  I do not know names or specific
circumstances.  That is outside the parameters of the magic that made me.  Only
by connecting to yourparticular magic have I become more.”
Harry nodded slowly.  “I see.  Well, Voldemort is the current dark lord.  He
killed my parents and tried to kill me when I was a baby, but my mum used a
sacrificial blood ritual and gave her life to protect me, so when Voldemort
cast the Killing Curse on me, it destroyed his body.  I…  Well, Knowledge can
probably give you the whole story later.  Cliff-notes version, there’s a
prophecy that says I have to kill Voldemort or he has to kill me and that we’re
equals.  He’s generally considered the most dangerous dark lord in at least two
hundred years.”
“And you’re his equal.  I’m quite impressed.”
Harry shrugged somewhat uncomfortably.  “Yeah, well a lot of the last two
generations of your family have followed Voldemort.  Some of them still do. 
Which reminds me, I still need to disown Bellatrix.”
Corvus’ eyes sharpened.  “Considering how small the family is, you shouldn’t
disown anyone without a very good reason, young Lord.”
“She killed the last Lord of House Black,” Harry said flatly.
“Oh.  Well, in that case, purge her from the family at your earliest
opportunity, and kill her yourself if possible,” he immediately endorsed.
Harry smiled faintly and looked at the wall again.  “Okay, so feed my magic
into the trap, find the holes, then what?”
“Fill the gaps with your magic,” Knowledge advised.  “Fill them completely, and
then fill them some more.  Your goal is the put so much pressure on the wall
that it simply implodes upon itself.”
“Is it going to hurt?” Harry wondered, remembering what it had felt like trying
to unravel those ribbons.  He was more than willing to deal with pain to remove
this, but he wanted to be prepared.
“No,” Knowledge replied immediately.  “None of the information on this
indicates that it should be painful for you.  It is said to feel like a great
deal of pressure followed by a rapid release that may leave you dizzy and
momentarily disoriented while the memories rush back.  The time that that lasts
will vary somewhat based upon how many memories were lost inside.  Depending on
how much magic you have to draw, you will likely feel exhilaration and some
amount of euphoria as well.”
Harry nodded slowly and mentally prepared himself for all of that and more.  He
did tend to have unusual and often extreme reactions, after all.  He took a
deep breath and prepared himself.  “Any last minute advice?” he wondered.
“Don’t stop once you’ve started,” Logic suggested.  “There’s no way to know the
result if you leave the job half done.  You may, inadvertently strengthen the
trap.”
Harry nodded.  “Good point.”  With another bracing breath, he faced the wall
and let his eyes fall closed, reaching into his core without sending his mind
there entirely.  It was still almost blindingly brilliant as it had been right
after becoming Lord Black.  It was primarily green in color – the same hue as
his eyes, which he now wondered if that was related to his distant naga blood –
with streaks of black running through it where he had bonded with the magic of
the Black family.
He reached into the center of that luminescence and pulled on the indefinite
power that he discovered there.  The glow intensified steadily until it was
like staring at the sun.  His entire body felt so warm – almost feverish – his
every nerve charged and alive.  He felt like he could do anything – like
nothing could ever challenge him, harm him.
It took a considerable application of will to force himself to recall what he
was supposed to be doing, and he managed to open his eyes to that dark dungeon
wall that did not belong in his mind.  Gritting his teeth as he felt Rage
stirring in response to what someone had done, he drew even more deeply upon
his magic and the dim corridor was suddenly bathed in green light.  He lifted
his hands and found them coated in brilliant verdant flames that licked
harmlessly along his skin and clothes.  He slammed his hands against the wall
and the flames seemed to attack it, leaping off his hands to splash along the
stone, running swiftly out in all directions until the entirety of the trap was
drenched in them.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to feel the tiny imperfections in the wall,
the miniscule voids within the sturdy construct.  He began to push his magic
into those voids and watched as the green flame began to sink right into the
stone, the holes too small to see with the naked eye. He drew more power and
continued to push at the wall.  The feverish, jittery feeling intensified with
the more magic that he drew, but he gritted his teeth and kept going.  Whether
this was the work of Voldemort or Dumbledore or Snape, Harry refused to believe
that he didn’t have enough power to overcome it.  This was his mind.  Hewas
master here and no one else.  He couldn’t stop now.  He was virtually certain
that if he were to do that, his magic would remain within the voids, making the
trap stronger than ever and quite possibly making it impossible for him to
remove.
After what may have been moments or eons, when Harry felt certain that the
pressure would crush him utterly, he suddenly felt every knot shatter
simultaneously and his mind was violently shoved into the blackness of true
unconsciousness for the first time since he’d discovered his mindscape.
===============================================================================
 
Freak screamed when Uncle brought the belt down on his back.  Uncle had spanked
him before, but Freak had never made Uncle this mad.  He didn’t like this.  He
didn’t like it at all.  It felt like that belt was going to cut him right in
half.
The pain continued and Freak was sure that he was going to die.  He panicked,
and then there was a loud crash and the belt didn’t come again.
Dudley and Aunt were screaming now and Freak slowly turned around to find Uncle
wasinside the wall.  There was a big hole and Uncle was inside it.  He looked
like he was sleeping.
Knowing that he always got in trouble when Dudley broke something, Freak was
sure that he was going to be inhugetrouble now that Uncle broke the wall.  He
raced to his cupboard and closed himself inside, making himself as small as
possible under the lowest stairs.
He heard the family leave, eventually, and he fell asleep.  When he woke again,
it was to the sounds of them returning.
Freak became very confused when he heard them talking like nothing had
happened.  Uncle went through the wall and then they decided to go to the
cinema?
After a while, he heard them all cluster in the kitchen and he very cautiously
peeked out of his cupboard.  He gasped in shock when he found that the wall was
all fixed like nothing had happened and the room was clean and neat as always.
“Harry, my boy…”
Freak flinched away from the voice behind him and spun around to find himself
looking at who he could only assume was Father Christmas.  He was too skinny
and he wasn’t wearing red, but surely only Father Christmas had a beard like
that.  Freak wondered what he was doing here when it was still warm outside.
Then Father Christmas pointed a stick at his chest, wiggled it around, and said
a few words that Freak didn’t understand.
Freak whimpered when he felt the cold, tight feeling close around his chest. 
Was Father Christmas going to hurt him, too?  Uncle and Aunt always said that
he was too bad to get presents, but was he so bad that Father Christmas had
come all the way here to punish him when it wasn’t even Christmastime?
“I’m sorry, my boy,” Father Christmas frowned, “but this really is for the
best.”
Then he pointed the stick at Freak’s face and said, “Obliviate.”
===============================================================================
Harry smiled when Dudley started whimpering and crying again.  Dudley was such
a baby.  Harry was only making him feel what Harry had felt when Dudley pushed
him down a half-flight of stairs at school last week.  It was just scratches
and bruises.  He hadn’t even broken anything.
Harry had figured out a couple weeks ago that if he really wanted to – if he
thought about it just right – he could make people see and hear and feel things
that weren’t real.  When Uncle had taken his belt to Harry, he’d made Uncle
feel the same thing he did every time the belt came down – he’d stopped very
quickly, then.  When Aunt screamed at him for not finishing his chores when
she’d given him more than he could do, he’d made her see the dirty clothes come
alive and chase her around the house.  And when Dudley tried to hurt him, Harry
made Dudley feel some of the pain Dudley had made him feel.  He’d made him feel
like he broke his hand the first time but Dudley had screamed so loud that he
didn’t try that again.  Now he just made him feel smaller hurts and nowhe was
the one who got to laugh whenDudley cried.
“Harry!”
He spun around in shock at the unexpected voice in the house and his eyes
widened as he found himself looking at a very tall man in an ugly dress with a
white beard all the way down to his belt.
Disappointment curdled in bright blue eyes as the man looked between him and
Dudley.
“Who are you?” Harry asked warily.  He’d never seen such a man in his life, not
even on the telly!
“You remind me so much of Tom,” the strange man said sorrowfully.  Then he
pulled out a stick and pointed it at Harry, who stumbled backward in alarm.
“Don’t be afraid, child,” the man chided.  “I wouldn’t harm you.”
That’s what he said, but when he whispered some strange words and wiggled his
stick, Harryfelt like he’d been harmed.  His chest felt tight and cold, like he
couldn’t quite breathe right anymore.  Then he pointed the stick at Harry’s
face and said, “Obliviate.”
===============================================================================
Harry ran as fast as he’d ever run in his life.  Luckily Dudley had given him
all that practice, because the bobbies were even faster than Dudley.  He cut
sharply around a corner into a dirty old alley and as soon as he’d hunkered
down behind the rubbish bin, he teleported.
He appeared back on his roof where he’d decided that he was going to live. 
There was a small cupboard up here – it was bigger than the cupboard under the
stairs – and he thought it would be a perfect home.
It had been two days since Harry had discovered that he could teleport.  He’d
been running from Dudley then, and he’dreally wanted to get away, and the next
thing he knew, he was on the roof of his school.  The Dursleys had not been
happy when they’d heard that he’d been found up there.  They’d locked him in
his cupboard and promised that he’d not be getting out for a long time.  That’s
when he’d decided to run away.  Er, well, teleport away.
He pulled from his pocket now the sandwich that had nearly got him arrested. 
It wasn’t that big and it was kind of smooshed after being stuffed in his
pocket, but he was sure it would taste good just the same.  He was proud of
himself for being able to feed himself better than the Dursleys did.
He was just reaching for the door to his new cupboard home when someone stepped
out from behind it.  He flinched back and prepared to flee as he observed that
the man was the strangest-looking fellow that he had ever seen.  He was wearing
a pink and yellow dress and a pointy hat and his beard could have been tucked
into his trousers if he’d been wearing any.
The man pointed a stick and him and Harry turned to run.  He’d barely made it
two steps whensomethinghit him and his body got really stiff and he couldn’t
move.  He crashed hard into the gravel on the roof.  A tiny whimper was all
that managed to escape as he felt his body float up and turn over in midair.
The strange man was frowning at him.  He looked angry.  Harry’s heart was
pounding like it was trying to run away even though the rest of him was frozen
stiff.  He wanted to cry and scream and beg the man not to hurt him but he
couldn’t do any of that.  He could only wait to see what the man would do to
him.
He said some words that Harry couldn’t understand and Harry whimpered again as
he felt an icy fist squeeze his heart until it thought for sure it would stop. 
A dull, cold ache seemed to fill him up and his eyelids drooped with
exhaustion.  Only sheer terror kept him awake to see the man point the stick at
his face and say, “Obliviate.”
===============================================================================
“Kill him, you fool!”
Not wanting to die and not knowing what else to do, Harry launched himself at
Quirrell, hoping that his touch would keep hurting the professor and keep the
man from killing him like Voldemort said.
The next few minutes were a blur of fear and pain and screaming that he thought
was coming from all three of them.
Then he found himself looking down at the still body of his professor.  His
neck and face was all red and the skin on his neck was kind of falling apart. 
It looked a bit like a well-cooked pork roast.  Even worse, it smelled kind of
like that, too.
Quirrell was dead, Harry realized.  He’d killed him.  God, hekilledhim.
He started badly at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and looked up
just in time to see Snape charge into the room, wand drawn.  The man’s dark
eyes settled on Harry and then on Quirrell and they grew very wide.
Harry stumbled in his haste to get off the body of his professor and back
away.  “I didn’t…  I-I’m sorry.  He was gonna kill me.  I didn’t mean to…”  He
felt tears sting his eyes and hated himself for being weak right now,
especially in front of Snape.
Then there were more footsteps and Dumbledore was charging into the room.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry tried again, mentally cursing himself when he felt the
tears trickle down his cheeks.  “He just…”
Dumbledore sighed.  “Don’t worry, Harry.  I promise that you won’t remember
this tomorrow.”
“Albus!” Snape said sharply when Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry’s face.
“He is too young to handle this, Severus,” Dumbledore frowned at the professor.
“He needs to learn to deal with it, not be forced to forget it!” Snape argued.
“I’m afraid that’s not your decision,” Dumbledore said with finality before
looking at Harry again and saying, “Obliviate.”
===============================================================================
 
14 August 1996 - Wednesday
Harry spent the days following the release of his obliviated memories testing
out what he remembered of the instinctive magic he’d learned when he was
little.  Apparating came back with amazing ease.  He kept his tests confined to
his locked suite because he didn’t want to risk being discovered, but with what
he now remembered about it, he doubted that he’d have trouble going anywhere
that he knew.
The illusion magic was more frustrating.  He couldn’t test it by himself.  It
worked by entering thoughts and concepts into the minds of others.  The
“others” part was a requirement.  He supposed it wouldn’t work on anyone who
knew occlumency.  Knowledge believed that it was likely easier to use on
muggles than it would be on magical people or creatures as their magic would
try to instinctively fight his illusions, even if they weren’t consciously
aware of their existence.  The more powerfully magical a person was, the more
difficult it would be to work the illusions on them.  If his target knew
occlumency, it would be many times more difficult and may not even work at all
if they were good enough.  Needless to say, he had no plans to use this on
Voldemort, Dumbledore, or Snape.
It was on Wednesday that Harry was reminded of his conversation with the
twins.  He hadn’t actually forgotten it, but he had been trying to put it off
as long as possible.  He was no longer sure that it had been very smart of him
to decide to broach the topic.  He desperately wanted to believe that the twins
were on his side.  He’d given them a thousand galleons to start their shop,
after all.  He didn’t know what he’d do if he found out that they’d accepted
that knowing that their parents had signed that contract.
Not that it was worse than Ron, if he knew, but Harry was trying not to think
about that too much, either.  Not until he could know for sure.
His desire to pretend he’d said nothing at all to the twins was thwarted when
Dumbledore drew him aside after breakfast one day and had the audacity to
instructhim to write down the Secret concealing his house and give it to
Dumbledore so that he could bring in the twins and some other Order members.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he’d said flatly, “but doesn’t it rather defeat the purpose
of me being the Secret Keeper if I give you carte blanche to tell it to anyone
and everyone you want?  What if the paper gets lost or stolen?”
Dumbledore had frowned at him as though Harry had just proved an incredible
disappointment and wounded the old man grievously.  “Harry, my boy, surely you
trust me to be discreet and cautious…”
“I’mthe Secret Keeper,” Harry had interrupted firmly.  “If you want to bring in
some other people, have them come to the neighborhood and I’ll tell them the
Secret in person like I did with you and the Weasleys.”
Dumbledore hadn’t look thrilled with the idea, but he hadn’t pressed Harry on
it either.  “And you will allow in everyone in the Order?”
“Unless I feel like I have a good reason to do otherwise,” Harry had
prevaricated.  There wasn’t any way he was giving that kind of blanket promise,
then or ever.  For all he knew, Dumbledore had inducted Pettigrew as a spy or a
Malfoy or something crazy like that.
Again, Dumbledore had looked less than pleased, but he’d accepted the answer. 
“Very well, then.  I will invite some of them by for lunch, so be sure you are
available to greet them at that time.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry had nodded obediently – he’d had to give the man something
after being so difficult, after all.
Dumbledore had finally given him a twinkly smile and swept away to do whatever
it was he did with his days when he wasn’t loitering at Grimmauld Place.
Just before lunch, Dumbledore had returned, as promised, and escorted Harry out
to a nearby park – a rundown old place in sore need of maintenance – and there
they had met Fred and George Weasley, Bill Weasley, Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody,
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, and
Severus Snape.  Being faced with Snape for the first time since resigning
himself to marrying the man, Harry found himself with the curious quandary of
feeling not quite sure if he wanted to avoid looking at him at all costs, or
study him keenly and try to imagine what marrying him would be like.  Either
way, he was certain that Snape noticed and brushed it off as more of his
general, unpleasant arrogant stupidity or whatever.
Dumbledore had looked at Harry sharply when Harry looked at Snape, as though he
feared Harry would deny the man access out of spite or something.  Harry
pretended not to notice that the way he was pretending that he didn’t hate
Dumbledore for everything he’d done to him in his life, and, once Dumbledore
silenced the area, gave everyone the Secret. 
Snape had looked almost surprised that Harry hadn’t tried to exclude him.
It made Harry want to sigh and warily wonder what they would be like a year
from now – or five, assuming they both lived that long.  He was almost positive
that they’d learn to live with each other, if not necessarily likeit.  Snape
could hold a grudge a long time, after all, but not 24-7, surely.
Hopefully.
It was immediately after lunch that the twins cornered him coming out of the
bathroom.  Warily, Harry led them to his suite.  Hermione had gone to the
drawing room with Ron and Harry was grateful for it.  Ron never let Harry alone
with Hermione for very long.  Harry honestly wasn’t sure if his friend –
hopefully, his friend – was more worried about being left out or if he was
jealous.  He was really obvious about his liking Hermione this summer.  He
hadto be obvious if Harry had noticed it, because he didn’t usually pay much
attention to that sort of thing.
Once the three of them were closed in his sitting room, he stretched his magic
to the wards of the house as Corvus had been teaching him, and silently secured
his rooms.  The Black Wards made even Paranoia at his worst seem tame.  When he
brought up the wards, he was protected from all manner of eavesdropping.  He
was aware of all living things within the wards.  The rooms were nearly
impenetrable by means magical or mundane.  He could even use them to spy on
things happening elsewhere in the house, going so far as to listen and watch
everything that happened, or just being alerted to general things, like if
someone was hurt or fornicating.  He’d temporarily disabled that last bit,
because he really just didn’t want to know.
He faced the twins warily as they studied him with uncharacteristic solemnity. 
“Er…  Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but would you guys be willing to
take a wand oath that you won’t share what we talk about in here today?”
The identical pair shared a brief look at that, but Harry was absurdly grateful
when they didn’t hesitate to draw their wands and make the oath.  He wasn’t
worried about Hermione telling anyone because she was Hermione.  The only time
she’d ever betrayed him had been about his Firebolt and she’d harped on about
it foreverbefore she’d gone to McGonagall.  Harry knew better than to ignore
that now, so he was sure he’d have plenty of warning if she started thinking
she had to tell someone for his own good.  He really didn’t think that she
would, anyway.  She’d grown up a lot since third year and didn’t place so much
faith in the adults – especially since she’d learned what three of the most
trusted ones had done to him.
The twins were different.  It was their familythat this was about.  Harry
didn’t have much positive first-hand experience with family, but he did
understand, in the abstract, that Family Came First.  It was a chance he
couldn’t take here.  Not with everything that was on the line.
And so, oaths in place that would bind their secrecy with their own magic,
Harry sat them down and explained that he’d gone to Gringotts because of
Sirius’ will.  Then, rather than trying to convince them, he just showed them a
copy of the Potter-Weasley contract.
They both looked it over for a long time, their faces deathly grave.
“We didn’t know about this,” Fred said at last, and Harry tried not to sag in
relief.
“They wouldn’t have told us,” George concurred.
“Rebels, we are,” Fred said with a brief, feral smile.
“We’d have teased you about it if we thought you knew,” George nodded.
“And told you had we known you didn’t,” Fred added.
“What are you going to do about it?” George posed, and they both looked so
serious now that Harry wondered if they were afraid he was going to try to kill
Ginny to get out of it or something mad like that.
In answer, Harry pulled the cord around his neck from under his shirt and
displayed the Black Ring.  “Sirius made me his heir.  I’m Lord Black now.  The
title came with another marriage contract that will override the Weasley one if
I let it.”
The twins looked at each other warily.  “A Black marriage contract?  Don’t they
always marry families like the Malfoys?” Fred asked.
“The Averys?” George put in.
“And the Macmillans?” Fred finished.
“You’re not going to marry Malfoy, are you?” George teased, though he did look
somewhat worried.
Harry rolled his eyes, relieved by their renewed teasing.  “Of course not,”
though he couldn’t be absolutely certain that he wouldn’t have allowed it even
if that had been the case.  If he could survive Snape, he could surely survive
Malfoy.  It’s the elder Malfoys that would have been the problem in the
regard.  Instead of explaining, he showed them the second contract.
“Lord Prince?” Fred said curiously.  “I’ve never heard of him.”
“Is he Light?” George asked hopefully.
“Not as such,” Harry admitted, because he understood Dark Magic well enough now
to recognize that Snape’s magic was attuned to it.  He also knew enough to
realize that it didn’t make him “evil”.
“He’s not a Death Eater, is he?” Fred pressed.
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking.  He hadn’t
really been meaning to tell them about Snape.  That his future husband existed,
yes, but not his identity.  He wasn’t sure if they wouldn’t make leading jokes
that people like Dumbledore and Snape could unravel.  Unfortunately, he also
hadn’t prepared himself to lie to them, so he wasn’t quick enough in denying
the accusation.
“Blimey,” George muttered uneasily when Harry hesitated.
Harry sighed.  Well, he may as well tell them now, before they jumped to really
bad conclusions, thinking he was marrying Rabastan Lestrange or something.
“Snape,” he said finally, his voice lowered despite knowing that no one else
could hear them if they shouted.
There was a moment of stunned silence and then uproarious laughter as both the
twins cracked up, falling all over each other in their mirth.
It lasted almost a minute before they seemed to realize that he wasn’t
laughing, with them.
“Well, you’re not serious, right, mate?” Fred asked incredulously.
Harry sighed, “Severus Snape’s mum was Eileen Prince.  She was disowned for
marrying a muggle, but when Severus ended up being the last viable heir for the
family, Lord Prince left everything to Snape in his will, including the
Lordship.  Just after he graduated Hogwarts, Snape found out that he’d be
betrothed to Sirius if he accepted the lordship, so he never did.  Now Sirius
has passed the contract on to me and I mean to make Snape accept it.”
The silence lasted longer this time.  The twins spent the time either sharing
looks or staring at Harry.
“I…  No judgement, mate, but is Snape really better than Ginny?” Fred asked
cautiously.
Harry frowned heavily at his lap for a long moment before meeting their eyes
again and making an attempt at explaining his reasoning.  “Ginny, your parents,
and Dumbledore, they would force me into this.  Your parents, presumably, for
the money, Ginny because she must still think she’s in love with me, and who
knows what Dumbledore’s getting, but they all made the choice to force me to do
this.  I can’t live the rest of my life knowing that my wife… that she would do
something like that to me.  I can’t.  Snape, he…  Well, he’s unpleasant, and he
doesn’t much like me, but he had nothing to do with the contract.  It was made
before he was even born.”
“Yeah…” George agreed.
“But he hates you,” Fred pointed out.
“And you hate him,” George concurred.
Harry shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter for an arranged marriage, honestly. 
There’s a lot we can offer each other – politically and with the war.  And when
it’s all over – if we’re both still alive – I think we can learn to live with
each other.  We’d be just… two people making the best of the situation.  If I
married Ginny, it would alwaysbe her fault, and I can’t live like that.”
The twins looked at each other again.
“If you’re sure,” Fred said at last.
“Like reallysure, mate, because it’s Snape,” George stressed.
“Then you know that we’re behind you.”
“No matter what.”
Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  “Thank you, guys,” he swallowed hard
and told his eyes to stop stinging because he was notgoing to cry over this in
front of the twins.  “You don’t know what that means to me…”
“We have an idea,” George said gently, briefly reaching out to touch Harry’s
arm.
“What about Ron?” Fred asked suddenly, his eyes hardening. 
“He didn’t know, did he?” George added.
Harry grimaced and shook his head, “I don’t know.  I…  I guess I’ve been too
afraid to ask him.”  Because he could have.  He could have made him take an
oath like this and asked him straight out.
Fred and George exchanged another look, this one full of determination.  “We’ll
find out for you, Harry,” they said together.
“And don’t worry.  We’ll be discreet,” Fred assured.
“He probably won’t even remember the conversation if he doesn’t answer the
right way,” George said viciously.
“Ah…” Harry frowned, “Do you two even know how to cast an obliviate…?” because
after reading so much about the spell, he knew exactly how dangerous it could
be in unexperienced hands.
“Nah,” George dismissed.
“Obliviate’s for amateurs,” Fred grinned devilishly.
“There’s a potion…”
“Pair of potions,” Fred corrected.
“Right you are, George,” George agreed, “A pair of potions.”
“That we discovered by accident fifth year.”
“It’s why we failed so many OWLs,” Fred added wryly.
“Take one potion and it lasts twenty-four hours,” George explained.
“Doesn’t really do anything,” Fred admitted.
“Nope.  Doesn’t.  But if the second potion is administered before those twenty-
four hours are up,” George grinned.
Fred matched his grin eerily, “Why, you forget everything that happened in
between.”
“We forgot a lot of studying that year,” George admitted with faux sadness.
“Allegedly,” Fred added judiciously.  “We made plans to study, but we can’t
prove that we ever did,” he sighed.
“Right you are, brother mine,” George abetted.
“We do need to brew the potion,” Fred said more seriously.
“We’ll bring it by in a few days,” George confirmed.
===============================================================================
 
18 August 1996 - Sunday
Harry took a deep breath as the Order meeting began letting out.  Then he took
another.  Then he forced himself to stop before he hyperventilated.  It was all
well and good to rationalize the need for this.  It was something else entirely
to actually proposeto Severus freaking Snape.
“Professor Snape,” Harry said, quickly stepping forward when the man came out
of the kitchen, clearly intent on beating a hasty path to the front door.
The professor stopped, then slowly turned to pin Harry with a malevolent
glare.  “Mr. Potter,” he sneered.
“Could I speak with you for a few minutes, sir?  Privately?”
Snape’s brow drew down, black eyes scrutinizing Harry to within an inch of his
life as he searched for the motive that could possibly inspire Harry Potter to
actually request time in his presence.
“On my honor that I mean you no ill will,” Harry added in response to the
hesitation.  He’d mostly expected that that would be needed.  Despite never
having pulled a single prank in five years, Snape doubtlessly expected that
that would be Harry’s intention.
As Harry had hoped, the formal line sparked enough curiosity to get Snape to
comply.  Once they were closed into the parlor alone together, Harry silently
lifted the house wards around the room.
“What do you want, Potter?” Snape snarled when Harry didn’t immediately speak.
Harry resisted the urge to take another bracing breath and reached into his
pocket to withdraw – slowly, so Snape wouldn’t get twitchy – a lacquered ebony
box.  “This is for you,” he said neutrally, holding it out in offering.
Snape stared at it for a long moment as though he fully expected the thing to
animate and bite him.  Finally, his curiosity seemed to win out again and he
cautiously reached for it.  Harry felt the man’s passive magic brush against
his hands, certainly checking for hostile magic.  At last, he snatched up the
box and tipped it open.
Snape tensed when he saw the contents, his body going completely rigid.  Harry
knew what he was seeing.  A platinum ring nestled into a black velvet cushion. 
After a long moment, black eyes snapped back up to meet Harry’s, looking
somewhere between stunned and furious.  “Mr. Potter,” he bit out, “do you have
any idea the significance of this?”
In answer, Harry solemnly recited, “Severus Alexander Snape, I, Lord Harrison
James Potter-Black humbly request your hand in marriage.”  And he didn’t even
stumble over the words.
Snape’s jaw actually fell open slightly before he mastered himself and turned
the Death Glare up full bore.  “Potter, only you would be deranged enough to
find humor in this absurd jest.”
“I do not jest, sir,” Harry said gravely, taking a small step back when Snape
attempted to thrust the ring box at him.
Snape’s eyes narrowed then.  “‘Lord Black’,” he hissed under his breath. 
“You’ve seen the contract.”
“Yes,” Harry admitted, keeping himself utterly grave so that there wouldn’t be
the slightest chance that Snape could think he was anything less than sincere.
“If you’d actually bothered to read it, Potter, you would know that it is not
compulsory unless Iaccept my lordship as well, and I promise you that the
Prince family does not have nearly enough wealth to tempt me into marriage with
you,” he growled furiously.
“I understand that, sir,” Harry nodded.  “There are, however, benefits beyond
wealth to be had from such a union.  The Black library, for example, is
legendary, containing books that are priceless and some very likely unique.”
“Are you attempting to bribe me into marrying you, Potter?”  Snape couldn’t
seem to decide if he should be more astonished or enraged.
“I prefer the term ‘persuade’,” Harry said with dignity.  One thing that he had
known going into this was that he absolutely could notlose his temper in
negotiations with Snape or he may as well hand the Potter estate to Dumbledore
right now.
“Why?” Snape said after a moment, apparently foregoing rage and astonishment in
favor of suspicion.  Harry would kind of love to see Snape’s Paranoia Aspect. 
It had to be impressive.
“When I assumed the Black lordship, I discovered this,” Harry said quietly,
offering the copy of the Potter-Weasley contract.
With a suspicious glare, Snape unrolled the parchment, his face blank as his
eyes scanned rapidly over the contents.  After a long moment, he rolled it back
up and offered it back.  Harry accepted it wordlessly and tucked it into a
pocket.
Snape was silent for at least a minute before he pinned Harry with his dark
gaze again.  “You would choose me over Miss Weasley,” he said suspiciously, not
quite making it a question.  Harry did notice, however, that Snape seemed to be
taking him more seriously now.
“I refuse to marry someone who would force it upon me,” Harry said with quiet
gravity.  “I refuse to be anyone’s puppet.”
Snape continued to stare for a long while before finally giving a slow nod.  “I
assume,” he said with a great deal of precision, “that your display of
etiquette indicates that you’ve properly researched the full ramifications of
your proposal – or had Miss Granger do so.”  Again, it wasn’t quite a question,
but his pause suggested that he was waiting for an answer.
“I have,” Harry answered simply, forcibly preventing himself from reacting to
the clear insinuation to his lacking intelligence or ability to research.  That
sort of thing was easier to ignore now that he no longer suspected that it was
true.
Snape stared at him a moment longer, as though waiting for him to crack.  When
Harry just continued to meet his stare calmly, Snape nodded, almost
reluctantly.  “I accept.”
It took Harry a few moments to comprehend the meaning of those two words.  “Wh…
ah… you do?” he responded in surprise.
Snape lifted one eyebrow challengingly, “Hoping that I would decline, Potter?”
“No!” Harry assured at once.  “No.  I just… thought you would,” he muttered,
then quickly pulled himself back on task.  “Due to the circumstances
surrounding the Potter-Weasley contract and its signatories I would like to
complete the contract as soon as possible.  Before school resumes if you’re
willing.”
Snape looked very nearly amused as he listened, but answered formally after
just a momentary pause.  “That is acceptable.  Shall I conclude that we will be
keeping this entirely confidential until the contract is complete?”
“My only confidant is Hermione,” Harry admitted.  “Fred and George know, too,
but they’ve sworn a magical oath.  No one else.  We obviously can’t trust
Dumbledore.”
Snape hummed lowly, “I shall make arrangements with Gringotts tomorrow, then.”
“And I will make an appointment for a marriage service at the Ministry on the
thirtieth, if you’ve no objection.”
Snape seemed to consider that giving a slight nod, “The news will undoubtedly
surface in the prophet within hours.”
“I’ll make the appointment late enough to ensure a late edition of the Prophet
isn’t possible.”
“Then it will come out on the thirty-first.”
“I’ll move my things to your quarters at Hogwarts after breakfast, then.”
Snape grimaced slightly, but acquiesced with another small, sharp nod.
“Should I assume that you’re not concerned about repercussions from Volde- the
Dark Lord?” Harry inquired, hastily side-stepping the use of Voldemort’s name
when Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the first syllable. 
“Don’t worry, Potter,” Snape sneered, “I have no intention to make you a
widower so soon.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but he wasn’t about to press the man.  Not when
he’d inexplicably decided to make Harry’s life enormously easier by agreeing to
marry him so readily.  Once they were permanently bound to each other, then
he’d worry about questioning his reasoning.  Up until the vows were spoken, he
could still back out…  Well, up until the Prince lordship was claimed, he could
still back out.  Harry was fairly certain that Snape wouldn’t change his mind
and make himself a squib, but it was probably best not to push his luck.  Snape
did hate him quite a bit, after all.  And he must know an awful lot of poisons…
Anyway, Snape wasn’t suicidal.  He wouldn’t be agreeing if he didn’t think that
he had things in hand.  Ignoring Snape’s tone, Harry nodded.  “Fair enough,” he
conceded. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
“I think, Potter, that we have spent more than enough time together for today,”
Snape drawled.
Harry swallowed the snide comment on the tip of his tongue with some effort.
They’d better get used to being in each other’s company soon, because they’d be
sharing a living space for the rest of their lives. He pushed those thoughts
away quickly. He’d made his decision for many very good reasons. There was no
point in questioning it now, particularly right after Snape had accepted. “Then
I’ll see you on the thirtieth. We’ll meet here, and go to the Gringotts
together."
Snape gave a single sharp nod and headed for the door.
***** The Bonds of Matrimony *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
===============================================================================
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 7
                            The Bonds of Matrimony
===============================================================================
                                        
18 August 1996 - Sunday
Severus filled his glass from the fire whiskey bottle and carefully placed a
vial of Sober-Up potion next to the bottle before picking up the glass. Being
inebriated was not merely dangerous in his position. It was nigh on suicidal.
That’s why he only drank alone, and within arm’s reach of a sobering potion.
Not drinking in the first place may have been more prudent, but his sanity
sometimes demanded it.
That was never more true than now. It had been many years since Severus had
given any thought at all to the concept of marriage. Indeed, since Lily’s
wedding had crushed the last of his childish dreams he’d given no more thought
to the institution at all. When he discovered that claiming his inheritance
would tie him irretrievably to Sirius Black, he’d given up any thoughts about
that as well.
Now, he was to be Lord Severus Prince. He’d not hesitate to drop his father’s
muggle surname. Of course, it would come with a price. A high price. In eleven
days, he would become Lord Severus Potter-Black Prince, husband of Lord Harry
Prince Potter-Black.
Severus took a heavy swig of fire whiskey reveling in the burn as it slid down
his throat. Potter… He’d never believed he’d see the day that the brat actually
grew up. He probably still hadn’t, but he seemed to be heading in that
direction. It was the reason he’d accepted the proposal. Had the boy had the
audacity to propose to him like some muggle he’d have laughed in his face. But
he hadn’t. He’d done it as a proper pureblood. The boy had not only researched
the pureblood customs, but apparently intended to uphold them.
The Potter-Weasley marriage contract had been the true determining factor,
however. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the accompanying look
in Potter’s eyes had been the deciding factor. The boy’s ire had been well and
truly raised. Oh, Albus had miscalculated this time. His sacrificial lamb had
grown claws, and he was learning to use them.
For Severus, personally, the marriage had far more benefits than drawbacks.
Yes, he’d have to put up with Potter as a permanent fixture in his life. That,
in itself, was highly disconcerting. In recompense, however, he finally got to
claim his birthright, Potter was offering free reign of the Black library, and
he got the “great" Harry Potter as his permanent champion in the political
arena. Dumbledore would find it hard to do him any real harm politically when
he was married to Harry Potter.
And he was free of Voldemort. He pushed back the left sleeve of his robe. The
Dark Mark was gray now, surrounded by a ring of suppression runes keeping it
disconnected from his former master. Severus was no fool. He’d been well on his
way to discovering the means of neutralizing the Mark by the time he defected.
Even when he’d considered himself loyal to the Dark Lord, he’d been intent on
having a way out. He’d refined it over the years, while the Dark Lord was
weakened too greatly to notice his mucking about with the magic. He’d changed
nothing before, of course, but he’d been prepared to do so on a moment’s notice
should his loyalty ever come into question.
When Potter had proposed, when he’d realized the boy was actually serious, he
hadn’t been able to help but appreciate all the ways in which the marriage
would make his life exponentially better. Oh, he still loathed the boy, but
certainly not badly enough to turn down such an opportunity. He smiled
sadistically at the memory of the boy’s face when he’d accepted. He wondered
how much of a speech the boy had had planned. As though Severus couldn’t see
the benefits for himself. As though he was such a fool as to decline the
proposal of the wizarding world’s Most Eligible Bachelor – or he would have
been had anyone realized he was legally an adult – no matter how badly he hated
him.
He did have to wonder, however, how long it might take the boy to come to his
senses and realize that the Weasley chit would’ve been infinitely easier to
live with.
===============================================================================
19 August 1996 - Monday
Harry sighed as he set yet another book onto the pile of those he’d
assimilated.  He still had literally thousands of books in his library trunk
from the Black Vault to sort through but he’d taken a break from those in order
to figure out exactly what all the books in the Master Study were about.  Thus
far, he’d determined that they were a pretty good mix of legal, political, and
historical references, financial ledgers, and various journals kept by Orion
Black before his death.  He was learning a ton of interesting facts, according
to Knowledge.  Unfortunately, Orion had never been Lord of the Black family and
therefore had information personal to him and his immediate family only.  Harry
was going to have to make a trip to Castle Black if he wanted more information
about the family as a whole as kept by Arcturus Black, who’d died in ’92,
according to Corvus.  Despite not being sentient before Harry, there was a
surprising amount of information Corvus had gathered just from the state of the
lordship ring as it changed hands throughout the millennia since he’d created
it.
Regardless, Knowledge had urged him to take in everything in the study.  It was
kept there to be within easy reach of the master of the study, which meant that
it would most likely be handy for Harry to have it stuck in his head and
therefore always within easy reach.
Harry had just picked up the next book to begin scanning through it when there
was a light knock on the door.  A touch on the wards allowed him to see through
the door like it was a window, though it wouldn’t have changed at all from the
other side.  He smiled a little at seeing Hermione, but it faded quickly when
he considered the probable course of the following discussion.
With a sigh, he disengaged the wards on the door and called out a quick, “Come
in!”
As soon as Hermione had stepped inside and closed the door, Harry returned all
the wards.  The house was full of people, including Weasleys and an ever-
shifting contingent of random Order members – he’d passed the secret to another
group of them yesterday, prior to the Order meeting – and Harry trusted not one
of them aside from the young woman who’d just joined him in his study.
Whatever Hermione had meant to say stalled as she got a look at the state of
the room.  Half of the bookshelves had been emptied, the contents presently
piled all over the desk and a long table next to it, which Harry had
transfigured for the purpose.  His present organizational system probably was
not obvious at first glance, he mentally acknowledged.  Or second glance,
honestly.  Well, it really wouldn’t make sense to anyone except him.  The piles
were made up of books he was either planning to assimilate or those that had
already been assimilated but he’d yet to return to their shelves.  Of course,
there wasn’t any real pattern to where each of these piles had accumulated,
meaning that he’d be lost himself if not for Knowledge providing him with a
perfect mental map of where he’d placed everything over the last couple of
hours that he’d been at this.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked after a long moment to take in the state
of the room.
Harry flashed her an irreverent grin, “Learning!  Well, memorizing, actually.”
With a slightly irritated frown, Hermione tugged a chair over near him and
plopped herself into it.  “Explain,” she insisted.
“Remember when I said that my mind worked like a computer to recall and compare
everything that I know?”  She gave a vague nod, glancing around at the piles of
books as she clearly began to follow him.  “Well, that works for everything
I’ve seen or heard or otherwise experienced.  I don’t have to actually read the
books.  I can just glance at the page and the information is permanently logged
in my brain, even if I consciously have no idea of anything that it said.”
She blinked a few times and looked vaguely disturbed.
“It’s okay to be jealous,” Harry ventured after a long moment of silence.
Her frown turned into a mild glare.
“At least you’re not engaged to Snape, right?”  Anything to make her stop
looking at him like that.
It worked.  She was instantly distracted.  “Engaged?  Wait, does that mean that
you asked him?”
“Last night after the Order meeting let out,” Harry nodded.
“And he said yes?!” she very nearly screeched.
Harry was glad that he’d restored the silencing wards after she’d come in. 
They did not need to be drawing any attention to this particular conversation. 
“He did,” Harry nodded with a curious frown.
“Why?”
Were Harry as insecure as he’d been at the beginning of the summer, he’d
doubtlessly have taken oblique offense at her tone of deepest shock.  Luckily,
he now had his Aspects with whom he could talk these things out and he felt
fairly confident that he understood what she was thinking.  “What’s that
supposed to mean?” he asked with mock offense.  “I’m one heck of a catch, I’ll
have you know!”
“Of course you are,” she automatically placated, “you know that’s not what I
meant.  Professor Snape hates you.  A lot.  Why would he…?”
“You’re thinking like a muggle, Hermione,” Harry pointed out with mild
chastisement.  “Admittedly, I kind of was, too.  Snape…  Severus,” must get
used to calling him that as it would be highly improper to refer to his husband
by his surname – even his betrothed, really.  Particularly because Snape
wouldn’t even be his name anymore, “is a wizard, and he thinks like one.”
Hermione looked mildly insulted, so Harry hurried to explain, “Arranged
marriages are really common among purebloods and some halfbloods, too.  When
you think of a marriage, you immediately think about love, right?  Or at least
affection.  That’s what I mean when I say you’re thinking like a muggle.  For a
wizard, marriage is more like a business transaction.  Maybe the most important
one you’ll make in your life, of course, but still a business deal.  So when I
proposed to Sn-everus, he cared less about his personal opinion of me as a
person and more about what he could gain from the marriage.  Not to sound vain,
but, frankly, that’s a lot. 
“Between the Potter and Black lordships – one of which I’ve claimed and the
other of which I’ll claim just before I’m married – and the whole Boy-Who-Lived
thing, I bring a ton of wealth and prestige to any family that I marry into. 
On top of that, Snape is able to claim his own rightful lordship and all the
wealth and prestige that comes with that if he consents to marry me.  I’m not
certain, but I suspect he’s also quite happy to use the marriage as an excuse
to stop spying on Voldemort.”
Hermione’s eyes widened at that, “But we need a spy!”
“And it’s his choice!” he snapped at her.  Honestly, the girl needed to learn
to think about the things that came out of her mouth. 
She wilted under his glare.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”  She rubbed a hand
roughly over her forehead.  “I’m just…  I’m scared,” she admitted, her eyes
slightly wide.  “I’m scared that you’re making a terrible mistake in marrying
him.  I’m afraid of this war and that we’re going to die, or worse that we’ll
live and they’ll win and then…” she shuddered.
Harry sighed and leaned forward to grip her hand in comfort.  It was the most
he could manage.  He didn’t think she’d be helped that much if he tried and
failed to hug her properly.  “I’m scared, too,” he admitted after a moment.
She gave him a skeptical look.  “Really?  Because of everything I’ve seen of
you this summer, fear isn’t part of it.”
He shrugged, “I’m handling things better now, I guess.  I really am terrified,”
he admitted quietly.  He wasn’t honestly all that worried about himself.  He
knew that he could handle pain and he wasn’t afraid to die.  The thought of
losing more people that he loved…  That was a thought that had had him wake
screaming more than once before his mindscape had taken away normal dreams. 
“I’m just doing the best I can, Hermione,” he sighed.  “I truly believe Snape,”
he paused irritably and started again, “I truly believe Severusis my best
choice, and I won’t change my mind.”
Hermione moved forward quickly to wrap her arms around him and Harry awkwardly
tried to return it.  He knew that she meant well, but hugs always seemed to
make him more uncomfortable rather than less.
===============================================================================
20 August 1996 - Tuesday
The twins arrived at Grimmauld Place in time for lunch and Harry felt his
stomach lurch as he watched Fred distract Ron while George tipped a clear
potion into his tea.  Ron brushed off their badgering and Harry tried not to
stare as he drank down the potioned tea without so much as a twitch.
Harry, certain that he couldn’t handle watching the questioning that was
coming, retreated to his suite and worked on his meditation.  It was a task
that allowed him to clear all worries from his mind and submerse himself in his
magic and it never failed to bring him a superior sense of calm and
relaxation.  Just exactly what he needed when he was stressed out about Ron. 
He worked on meditating and drawing out his magic every evening before bed, but
a bit of extra practice wouldn’t hurt.
Thanks to the meditation, the time passed almost without notice until he was
drawn fully back to the waking world by the sound of a knock on his door.  A
touch to the wards showed him Fred and George waiting outside his door with
very grim faces.
Stomach clenching in dread, Harry called for them to enter and moved himself
from the cushion on the floor on which he’d been meditating to a chair where
they could sit together.  He immediately lifted the wards once the door was
closed behind the twins.  “Bad news?” he assumed.
“Yes and no,” George admitted.
“Good news,” Fred offered, “is that he didn’t know.”
“Bad news,” George added, interrupting Harry’s relieved sigh, “is that he
didn’t seem to understand why we found it a bad thing.”
Harry cupped a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“Thought it would be great if you married Ginny,” Fred went on.
“Didn’t seem to understand why you may not want to do that.”
“Got mad when we insinuated you didn’t want to marry Ginny.”
“Prat even said you were being ungrateful after all we’ve done for you,” George
looked particularly infuriated by that bit.  “Like youowe anything to usafter
all you’ve done, what with saving Ginny’s life.”
“Saving Dad’s life.”
“Financing our shop.”
“Putting up with Ron’s stupidity all these years,” Fred smirked a little.
“Thanks, guys,” Harry managed after a minute.  “I needed to know.”
“Don’t let him get you down, mate,” George said cheerfully.  “You’ve still got
us.”
“Too right,” Fred concurred.  “And you’ll be married soon, so there’s that to
look forward to.”
Harry chuckled against his will, “He said yes, you know?  Wedding’s scheduled
for the thirtieth.  I used the names Black and Prince, so I doubt anyone will
realize either Severus or me are involved until we actually get there.”
Fred laughed malevolently, “Oh, to be a fly on the wall when the ritualist
realizes who he’s marrying…”
“Won’t be half as interesting as breakfast the next morning when the Daily
Prophet arrives,” Harry rolled his eyes.
Fred and George shared a look full of sharp grins before focusing on Harry
again and chorusing, “We’ll be there!”
===============================================================================
30 August 1996 - Friday
“Lord Black,” Orblok greeted in a way that passed for cheerful among goblins. 
“What can Gringotts do for you today?”
“Hello, Orblok,” Harry nodded as he sat down in front of the desk.  He still
wasn’t used to being called “Lord” anything, but he didn’t let that show.  He
was about to become a lord twice over, after all.  Best get used to it.  “I’m
here to claim the Potter lordship, today.”
“Very well,” the goblin nodded, easily finding the lordship ring in a desk
drawer.
Harry lifted an eyebrow at that and the goblin merely smiled one of his
frightening smiles.  “Is there a reason that you had that at hand?” Harry
decided to ask considering that the goblin would only feel obliged to tell him
anything if directly asked.
“When I heard that the Ministry had scheduled a Black/Prince marriage, I
suspected you may soon be claiming the Potter lordship,” the goblin admitted.
Harry nodded his understanding and reached for the ring box.
The Crest on the front was his family crest.  It struck him as deeply wrong
that this was the first time he remembered seeing it.  It was a massive tree in
the background, three birds in flight in the foreground, and the tree itself
seemed to be sprouting from a massive pot.  He ran his fingers lightly over the
symbol before opening the box to find a platinum ring.  The tree on the ring
was made of tiny diamonds in the reddish brown color of the Potter family. 
Actually, the diamonds were almost like dust with how small they were, but the
effect was stunning.  The tiny birds were chips of what he thought might be
obsidian.  He rather suspected that only magic made it possible to craft such a
ring as this.
He slid the ring onto the ring finger of his right hand and was somehow
unsurprised when he suddenly found himself in the parlor receiving room of his
mindscape.  His aspects were arranged as they’d been when he’d met Corvus, with
Will, Protectiveness, Courage, and Paranoia surrounding his chair and
Knowledge, Logic, Cunning, Ambition, and Loyalty in a looser formation around
the visitor chair.  They appeared at about the same time as an unknown figure
materialized in the second chair.  The man bore him no resemblance that he
could see, but that wasn’t terribly surprising given how old the Potter family
actually was.  He had dark brown hair that hung straight to his waist,
intelligent pale brown eyes, and a handsome face.  He blinked a few times as he
examined Harry and the Aspects and took in the well-appointed study that was
the receiving room in Harry’s mind.
“So you are the Heir Potter,” the man observed with an accent that strongly
reminded Harry of Corvus.
“I am,” Harry said firmly. 
The ancient Potter eyed Harry intently before studying each of the Aspects just
as carefully.  “You have a fascinating mind,” he decided.
“And you have poor manners,” Harry couldn’t help but quip.  “You’ve not
introduced yourself,” he explained to the raised eyebrows his assertion
received.
Though he looked slightly annoyed, he responded, “Alucard Potter, first lord of
House Potter, young man.  As our name suggests, our family had humble origins. 
My grandfather wasa potter.  A crafter of ceramics and good at what he did.  My
father carried on the tradition, honing the magic used in the creation of his
goods to make them the best in the land.  Iturned the craft into a thriving
business.  I trained apprentices in our craft.  I opened additional shops.  I
spread our name and built our fortune.  Iearned our family a lordship.  My
concern is whether you will expand on the greatness of our family or destroy it
as your father likely would have had he not died young.”
Harry felt a stir of irritation at hearing his father bad-mouthed, but crushed
it just as quickly.  From what he’d seen in Severus’ pensieve last year, his
father more than likely deserved that.  “I am already Lord of House Black,”
Harry replied solemnly, “I am to be married, this very day, to the Lord of
House Prince.  I am one of the most powerful wizards alive.  I have a unique
and very beneficial grasp on my mindscape.  And most importantly,” he glared at
his surly ancestor, “I am the last living Potter.  Reject me and you may kill
our family.”
Alucard smirked a little for the first time.  “You may be worth something
yet.”  He offered the Potter ring on his open palm.
With a respectful nod, Harry accepted the ring and slid it onto his finger. 
Upon feeling his core stirring, he moved to his core room to see what was
happening.  It made sense that it had been a substantial shift when he became
Lord Black because it had to remove the blocks and force his magical maturity. 
He wondered what would happen this time.
He shielded his eyes against the blinding light, then squinted to watch the
Avada green streaked with black begin to take on a new color.  It was a
reddish-brown – the color of clay – that slid into the light of his magical
core and a wave of dizziness swept through him as his magic surged.
When his eyes cleared, he was back in Orblok’s office, the goblin staring at
him with interest.
“Power,” Harry admitted, answering the unspoken question.
The goblin smirked a little.  “Was there anything else that you required today,
Lord Potter-Black?”
“Yes.  I’ll need to take a trip to the Potter and Black family vaults.”
“Very well,” Orblok quickly summoned another goblin, “Riptooth will escort you
down to the vaults.”
“Thank you,” Harry said before following Riptooth back out and down to the
carts that took them down to the vaults.  He made quick work of going through
each vault for an appropriate wedding ring.  The selection of male rings was
smaller than female, but he didn’t find it too difficult to find ones that
seemed appropriate for Severus.  Both were platinum as he just couldn’t imagine
Severus voluntarily wearing gold.  The Potter ring was engraved with the tree
behind a sizeable yellow diamond.  The Black ring bore an engraved raven with
wings down in flight encircling a black diamond.  Harry tucked both into a
pocket and headed back to the lobby to meet his affianced so that they could
travel to the Ministry together.
Riptooth led him straight to the floo room where Severus was waiting, looking
as grim and unapproachable as always.
“You took your time, Potter,” Severus growled at him in an undertone.
“I had to visit two vaults, Severus,” Harry pointed out with a slight emphasis
on the man’s given name that caused his jaw to clench, though he didn’t
comment.  “Shall we?” he gestured toward the wall lined with floos.
“After you,” the older man all but growled at him.
Barely feigned civility over thinly veiled hostility.  Harry got the uneasy
feeling that this was an accurate preview of his future.
Harry was quite pleased with himself when he managed to avoid falling over in
the atrium of the Ministry when he came through.  He did stumble, but at least
he didn’t land on his face.
Severus stepped out after him as though he was born in a fucking floo and
dispelled the ash residue from Harry’s robes with an irritable flick of his
wand.
“Thank you,” Harry smiled coolly as he fell into step next to his soon-to-be-
husband.  He had to move fast to avoid falling behind, but he made the effort. 
The last thing he wanted was to trail after the man like a recalcitrant child. 
He managed to ignore all the stares with his years of practice, and no one
dared approach with Severus looking like he’d have loved to verbally (or
physically) flay someone alive.
“Do you have an appointment?” the wide-eyed witch managed to ask as they
approached the reception desk in the Department of Magical Bonds.
“Lord Potter-Black and Lord Prince,” Harry answered while Severus watched him
with an expression that managed to not look hostile, but perhaps pensive.
“Of course,” the witch muttered as she dragged her eyes away from the pair of
them to consult her book.  She paled several shades as she must have seen just
what kind of bond they were here for.  She swallowed twice before she managed
to speak again.  “Of course, my Lords.  It’s the third door down the hall. 
Ritualist Lancing is waiting for… you.”
Harry rather doubted anyone was expecting themspecifically, but he just gave
her a polite smile and led the way down the corridor, pretending not to notice
that Severus was very unexpectedly letting him lead.  He could only assume that
the man was curious as to what he would do.
The room they entered was far from a wedding chapel.  Unlike in the muggle
world, magical marriage bonds were not a spectator event.  It was usually
followed by a celebration involving friends and family, but the event itself
was about the couple involved and the trained professional performing the
ritual.  It was about the magic of the individuals being permanently joined. 
It was rather private and the ritualist took an oath similar to a barrister
involving the secrecy of those involved in the rituals he performs.
Harry had owl ordered a book about how the ritual actually worked and learned
it all just a few days ago – well, he’d assimilated it, then learned it while
he was sleeping.  He was glad that he had as he’d hate to be fumbling around
expecting a muggle exchange of vows.  That wouldn’t be a very good way to show
his new husband that he wasn’t an ignorant child… er… anymore.
The room they entered wasn’t overly large.  There were no chairs or tables. 
Just a circular room with rows of runes carved into the walls.  In the center
of the room was a runic circle, carved into the floor and inlaid with gold and
silver – not werewolf friendly, obviously, but as they weren’t legally allowed
to marry in Britain, that didn’t really matter.
The ritualist was a man in his late middle years, dressed in a black and gold
ceremonial robe.  He glanced up at them with a smile as they entered, which
froze on his face as he identified Harry.  After a heartbeat, his eyes shot to
Severus and widened even further.  Two breaths and he pulled himself together
with impressive aplomb.  “Good afternoon, my lords,” he greeted respectfully. 
“You are here for a marriage bond, correct?” he asked, the epitome of
professionalism.  Harry didn’t blame the man for needing to double-check.
“Obviously,” Severus growled out irritably, apparently no longer able to keep
his peace.
Harry just flashed the ritualist a bright smile and ignored his intended’s
obviously sour mood, “That’s right,” he confirmed.
“Very good, sirs,” the man nodded amicably.  “Do you have the rings?”
Severus produced a royal blue lacquered box embossed with the Prince crest – a
crown surrounded by seven seven-point stars with an intricate sunburst in the
background – and Harry provided a similar pair of boxes, though his were black
and reddish brown respectively.
The ritualist accepted the boxes with a small bow and gestured to a door worked
into the back wall seamlessly enough that Harry hadn’t noticed it before, “If
you will proceed through that door, you can change into the ceremonial robes. 
Please ensure that you retain nothingexcept the robes on your body along with
your lordship rings.  No undergarments, no other jewelry, and no glasses,” he
added the last with an apologetic look to Harry.  “Just come back in here when
you’re ready.”
Severus brushed passed him into the room and Harry followed at a more sedate
pace, closing the door behind him.  He was displeased to find that there was no
sort of screen or curtain or any kind of privacy to be had, but he didn’t
suppose it mattered that much.  Turning away from the older man, Harry began
methodically stripping off his robes, doing his best to ignore the fact that
Severus was doing the same behind him.  When he was wearing nothing but the
pair of lordship rings, he gathered the white robe that was so thin as to be
very nearlysheer and fought off a blush as it settled against his skin.  He
definitely didn’t feel decent to be seen by anyone in this, though he supposed
he should be grateful that the ritual was no longer done sky clad.
He turned around when he was ready and he must have been terribly nervous
because his first thought was that Severus looked shockingly good in white. 
You wouldn’t think it with a complexion like his, but there was something
strangely otherworldly about the man at the moment.  He shook the thought
almost immediately.  Doubtlessly it was just the shock of seeing the man in the
exact opposite of his signature color.  Then again, the lack of his glasses did
soften the harsh features considerably.  Yes, that was probably it.
Desperately hoping that he’d managed to control his blush, he followed Severus,
who’d barely glanced at him before returning to the ritual room.
“Please be seated in the center of the circle,” the ritualist instructed once
they were both in the room.  “Fold your legs in front of you and move close
enough that your knees touch.”
Fighting the urge to blush once more, Harry did as instructed.  He fought the
urge to flinch away from the contact as their knees came together lightly.  He
had a difficult time even touching his friends.  Touching Severus was another
level of discomfort altogether.
“Very good,” the ritualist said in an even, almost hypnotic tone as he moved
fluidly around the room, lighting candles with a touch of his wand and
extinguishing others, so the lighting in the room began to dim and take on a
vaguely reddish cast.  “Now join your hands to those of your intended and allow
them to rest comfortably between you.”
Harry had known this was coming, but he hadn’t quite realized how difficult it
would be.  He felt at once uneasy and embarrassed by the unaccustomed physical
contact as Severus’ warm hands lightly gripped Harry’s and came to rest of
their knees.  Sitting this close, Harry could see Severus’ face fairly clearly
while the rest of the room was a colorful blur and it made the situation seem
even more intimate despite the ritualist moving around them.
He tried to focus anywhere else, but looking at their joined hands didn’t help,
and looking at Severus’ body was the opposite of helpful as the robe actually
wasslightly see-through and he could make out the patches of black hair
beneath.  He finally settled on letting his eyes roam the blurs above Severus’
head.
“Relax and open yourself to your magic,” the hypnotic voice encouraged and
Harry happily took the excuse to distance himself from his unease.  He was
getting good at reaching his magical core while conscious and so it took barely
more than a thought to bring his magic to the surface.  He felt Severus’ magic
tingling against his skin at every point of contact only an instant later and
felt a small shudder fall down his spine.  Merlin, he’d never felt anything
like that before.
“Good,” the voice continued.  “Very good.  Feel your magic fill you.  Feel the
magic of your bondmate.  Embrace your magic.”  He then went on in Latin, though
his tone remained smooth and even, allowing Harry to continue focusing on the
magic rather than the words he didn’t know.
As the ritualist spoke the ritual chant, Harry felt his magic continue to rise
and fill the room around him without his conscious decision to do so.  A small
part of him was alarmed at the sensation, but the magic of the ritual kept him
calm.  Not only his magic was filling the room, though.  It was impossible to
miss the foreign magic rising up with his own.  His hands tightened
convulsively at the same time as Severus’ grip became almost painful.
Their magic came together aggressively, burning and thrashing justthis side of
painful.  It was thrilling and unnerving and not altogether unpleasant.  The
battle seemed endless as their magic sought a middle ground that just didn’t
seem to exist.  Harry started to wonder if the ritual would fail entirely and
the whole gambit would be for naught, but then his magic seemed to tire of the
game and it surged out of him as powerfully as it had done when he’d removed
the obliviates and Severus’ magic very quickly settled down.  It wasn’t cowed
so much as overwhelmed into grudging acceptance.
Harry abruptly found himself in the room with his core whilst simultaneously
conscious of the ritual room.  He stared in wonder as his core was changed by
yet another magical bond, this one to another person rather than family magic
through his lordship rings.  The royal blue of the Prince magic seemed to be
shaded by Severus himself.  Unlike the lordship bonds, this bond did not change
his own magic, but rather settled itself in next to it.  A band of shaded blue
slithered around his core and settled in with a feeling strangely akin to an
embrace despite the fact that it didn’t make him uncomfortable.  Where the
bindings on his magic had covered and suppressed his magic, this bond fused
with his core and sank into it, and Harry fully understood why this ritual was
permanent.
He could only stare in awe at what had just happened.  This was nothing like
aligning his magic to the family magic and power of his lordships.  This was
making Severus a part of himself.  It was astonishinglyintimate.  Nothing he’d
read about it had conveyed the depth of just what this ritual didto a couple. 
His mindscape was unique as far as he knew.  Perhaps people just didn’t realize
what it did on a real level. 
“Now the rings,” the ritualist’s voice reached him and he looked up to find the
Black and Potter ring boxes held open to him.  He removed the Potter ring first
and slipped it onto Severus’ left ring finger, which was offered with a frown. 
The Black ring went on next, nestled right up against the Potter ring and
obviously far too large for the finger if he hoped to bend it properly.  As
he’d expected, it wasn’t a problem.  The ritualist merely tapped it with his
wand and the two rings fused together into one properly sized ring.  It now
sported the Potter tree in the background with the raven over it, wings still
encircling the black diamond.  The yellow diamond seemed to have split into two
smaller stones that now flanked the raven.  An interesting and not unattractive
ring.
The Prince ring was next presented and Severus slid it onto Harry’s finger. 
The ring was platinum as well, with the crown in the center inlaid in gold and
the seven stars each made of a stunning white diamond.
“Now kiss to complete the bond,” the ritualist instructed when the rings were
in place and their hands joined once more.  Harry found that he didn’t even
feel uncomfortable about it as he’d expected while researching the ritual. 
With the magic of the ritual flowing through him and the realization of how
deeply he’d just bound himself, Harry thought nothing of leaning forward along
with Severus to seal their lips together between them.  He felt his magic flare
in a way that he could only categorize as triumphant as it surged forward
through their connected lips to claim what now belonged to him.  Severus’ magic
clearly had the same idea as it rushed into him and the part of Harry that was
in his mindscape watched as fine blue tendrils of magic snaked their way into
his core as though they belonged there.
Now, he supposed, they really did.
As their lips broke apart, Harry’s mind returned fully to his surroundings and
he sagged forward, overwhelmed by the new sensations he experienced as his
magic drew back into his core.  He was magically bound to Severus now.  Their
very magical cores were connected and attuned to each other and he didn’t quite
know how to process the unexpected new intimacy he felt toward a man he’d
always strongly disliked.
Large hands settled on his arms, steadying him and the unease he’d felt at the
physical contact before was completely gone.  The fact alone was slightly
unsettling, but the hands were gone again before he could figure out how to
feel about it.
“You may notice a slight fluctuation in your magic over the next three to four
days,” the ritualist was saying as Harry slowly straightened and pushed himself
to his feet.  “That’s completely normal.  In some cases, you may detect strong
emotions or significant distress from your spouse.  That is uncommon, but not
anything that should concern you.”
What the ritualist did not say was that the phenomenon was much more common
when powerful magical cores were involved, particularly if both partners were
powerful.  There was a very good chance that he and Severus would experience
that, and he couldn’t even guess how his unique mindscape might affect that.
“Should you experience shared dreams or uncontrollable telepathy that you find
unpleasant, please return and we will attempt to moderate the bond.  Free of
charge, of course,” he smiled.
Severus just stared flatly at the man for a moment before turning and sweeping
his way into the back room to change.
“Thank you,” Harry smiled politely at the man.
“You’re welcome, Lord Prince Potter-Black,” the ritualist said with a genuine
smile.  “Congratulations on your marriage.”
Harry couldn’t help chuckling slightly in amusement at the way the man didn’t
seem to know if he should be congratulating Harry or wishing him luck.  He gave
a nod of thanks and moved into the back room after his new husband, aware that
the man wasn’t exceptionally patient.
He made a point of not looking at the other man as he stepped into the room and
stripped off his ritual robe to change back into the robes he’d worn today.
They returned to the atrium without exchanging a single word.  When they
stopped at the floos, Severus finally spoke.  “I will come by to collect you
tomorrow morning at ten,” he said with subdued distaste.
“I’ll be ready,” Harry assured, quite certain that he would be morethan ready
to leave by that point.  He was, however, glad that school would be starting
the next day so they’d both have something else to draw their attention.
                                        
Chapter End Notes
     No, Alucard Potter was NOT a vampire or related to Dracula. I just
     liked the name, and wizards have unusual names, so it seemed to fit.
***** Wedded Bliss *****
Chapter Summary
     The LONG awaited next installment on this fic. The Weasleys' and
     Dumbledore's reactions to Harry and Severus' marriage and Harry moves
     to Hogwarts.
Chapter Notes
     The first half of this has been written for nearly a year. The second
     half I wrote last night. I had a hell of a time with Dumbledore's
     reaction.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 8
                                 Wedded Bliss
31 August 1996 - Saturday
Harry woke early that morning and ate his breakfast in the privacy of his
suite, as had become his habit.  He took his time in the shower and dressed in
a nice set of everyday robes.  There was precious little packing to do as he’d
not lost the habit of keeping the vast majority of his possessions packed in
his expandable trunk and the trunk itself in his pocket at all times next to
his library.  He felt more secure in his heavily warded house, but he was still
nervous about going about without his things.  What if, for some reason, he had
to leave in a hurry and maybe couldn’t come back?  Like if Voldemort managed to
attack and take down the wards.  It would almost literally kill him if he not
only lost the collection of priceless tomes in his possession, but Voldemort
gained them.
Despite the fact that he’d have loved to hide out in his heavily warded suite
until Severus arrived to escort him to Hogwarts, he figured it would be better
to just get the initial confrontation over with.  Well, there was also the fact
that he was somewhat looking forward to the look on certain Weasley faces when
they realized that he would not be bringing the Potter name or fortune into
their traitorous little family.
He made his way down to the library as he usually did in the mornings.  He was
entirely too distracted to actually read anything, but he was perfectly capable
of turning pages and glancing at them to let Knowledge add it to his library,
so that’s what he did while he waited for the shouting to start.  It was nearly
nine-thirty, which was usually about the time they got the prophet here. 
He heard the first raised voices echo from the direction of the kitchen and
smiled against the lip of his teacup before returning it to its saucer on the
table so that he could properly turn the pages of his book.  The voices rose
further for perhaps two minutes before the sudden rise in volume signified that
they were leaving the kitchen.  Harry almost wished he could have seen their
initial reactions to the revelation in the Prophet, but he realized it would
have been a little too obvious if he’d been loitering in the kitchen for the
first time since coming to Grimmauld this summer.
He was sure he hadn’t missed too much though.  No one was going to believe that
he’d actually married Severus without getting confirmation from him.
As expected, Molly stormed into the library, leading the pack with the paper
clutched in her hand and brandished like a weapon.  Behind her followed her
youngest four children.  Ginny was looking very pale and somewhat frightened. 
Ron looked annoyed.  The twins looked like this was the most entertainment
they’d had in months.  Behind the redheads came a frowning Hermione, her brown
eyes focused heavily on the Weasley matriarch.  Next was Remus.  The werewolf
was looking rather bewildered.  Last was Arthur, his shoulders slumped and
hands stuffed in his pockets.  He met Harry’s eyes with what the young man
cautiously deemed shame.
Harry closed the book he was holding and slipped it into an expanded pocket. 
Knowledge had lectured him the last time he’d assimilated half a book and not
finished it, pointing out that they may someday wish to have access to the rest
of it and it may no longer be available.  Harry capitulated as much to avoid
future lectures as because the Aspect had a good point.  He rose from his seat
as he doubted any of the newcomers planned on sitting and he’d rather meet them
– the elders, especially – on more even terms.
“Harry, tell me that this isn’t true!” Molly demanded, her eyes burning with
anger and maybe a touch of fear.
“May I?” Harry inquired calmly.  Though he had an idea of what the headline
might say, he wasn’t about to answer one way or the other until he was sure of
what he was saying.
Molly handed it over without so much as blinking, which was slightly unnerving.
Harry turned the paper over and pressed out some of the wrinkles as he read the
headline.
Harry Potter Marries Potions Professor
Harry’s lips twitched slightly at the headline.  That was certainly eye-
catching, he had to admit.  He glanced at the rest of the article, even flipped
through to the page on which it was continued.  Knowledge was absorbing it all,
he knew, and would give him the highlights if pertinent.
“Mate, tell her it’s mental,” Ron urged.
Before Harry could respond, Molly lunged and caught Harry’s left hand, twisting
it almost painfully to examine the Prince wedding band sparkling there in all
its glory.
“Explain this, young man!” she demanded.
“My wedding ring, madam,” he replied coldly, wrenching his hand free despite
the pain it caused.  Any tolerance he’d had for this woman touching him had
gone the moment he’d seen that marriage contract.
“It can’t be true,” the woman had gone very pale and looked absolutely
horrified.
“Of course, it’s true,” he couldn’t help but sneer.  “We were bonded
yesterday.  All things considered, we’ve chosen to forego the traditional
gathering of well-wishers – at least for now.”
“You didn’t really marry the greasy git, Harry,” Ron looked as horrified as his
mother and somewhat nauseous.
Harry turned a hard look on his now former best friend. “Have care how you
speak of my husband in my presence, Ron.”
The redhead looked like he’d been slapped before his face started to turn red. 
“Why would you marry that bastard?!” he demanded.
“You can’t have!” Molly finally rallied enough to insist.  “The bonding can’t
have took, Harry,” she seemed almost like she was trying to explain a difficult
concept to a young child now.  “Severus must be lying to you.”
“You’ve insulted my husband and my intelligence quite enough, madam,” he
frowned at her.  “The ceremony was performed in the ministry, which you would
know had you bothered to read the article,” Knowledge assured him that it was
mentioned.  “The bonding ‘took’ just fine,” he repressed a shudder at the mere
insinuation that that powerful bond of their very magic wasn’t real.  Despite
not being a great fan of the man’s personality, Harry was very much attached to
that new bond.  He needed to research more into magical bonds, but he suspected
the very nature of the bond brought about the somewhat alarmingly warm and
proprietary feelings he was discovering for it.
“It can’t have taken!” Molly snapped, becoming visibly more upset, “because
you’re already betrothed!”
Ginny looked like she was trying to disappear into the chair she’d fallen into
shortly after arriving.
“To Ginny,” he sneered at the woman who’d nearly trapped him.  “I’m aware of
your treachery, madam,” he said coldly.
“Treachery?!” Molly gasped as though it was the most heinous falsehood she’d
ever heard.  “We welcomed you into our family!”
“No,” Harry corrected harshly.  “You tried to trapme into your family.  For
that, I will neverforgive you.  Luckily, Sirius made me his heir.  In becoming
Lord Black, I was able to access an old marriage contract between the Black and
Prince families.  Severus assumed the Prince Lordship and we were married under
the older, more powerful contract, making the one you and Dumbledore compiled
null and void.”
“You can’t have…” Molly trailed off and lowered herself unsteadily into a
chair, her eyes wide and glazed.
“I have,” Harry said firmly.
“Don’t you talk to my mum that way!” Ron snapped angrily.  “Is my sister not
good enough for you?  Huh?”
“Shut up, Ron!”
Harry turned with everyone else to gaze curiously at Ginny, who was glaring at
her brother.  Quickly realizing that she was the focus of the room, she turned
wide brown eyes on Harry, her face pinched in what looked like genuine regret.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, but the room was virtually silent, so she was
easily heard.  “I was barely twelve when they made up the contract, I…  I
didn’t think it through.  Mum said we’d be happy…”
“You would have been happy!” Molly had apparently recovered as she lurched out
of her chair, her eyes burning.
“Oh, give it a rest, woman!”  This time it was Remus who came to the rescue and
Harry found himself no less surprised by the harsh reprimand than he’d been by
Ginny’s defense.  Remus was usually the peace keeper.  He just didn’t get
confrontational.  “You’ve lost,” he all but growled at her, his eyes lightening
a shade from his usual amber toward wolf-gold.
Heartened to know that he apparently had more people on his side than he’d
dared to hope, Harry spoke over what Molly was attempting to snap at his former
professor.  “Molly, you and your husband are no longer welcome in my house. 
Gather your things and leave immediately.  You may return for Order meetings as
necessary, but you will not arrive early, nor linger late.  Ron, that goes for
you as well.”  He’d been planning to include Ginny in that, but now…  He turned
speculative eyes on her.
She gave him a sickly smile, “I don’t deserve any better treatment,” she said
bitterly.  “I am sorry though.”
She showed herself out of the room before he could decide how to respond to
that.  He wasn’t sure if he was ready to forgive her for her part in the
marriage contract, but he suspected that someday he might if she continued to
behave like she deserved it.
Molly had, by this point, drawn herself up into a righteous fury, “Fine, Harry,
if that’s what you want, we’ll leave,” she practically hissed at him.  “I know
that you’re too young to understand, but we were only trying to do what was
best for you.  If you won’t let us help you, then I don’t know what we can
do.”  She stormed out of the room looking somewhere between furious and
tearful.  Harry wasn’t greatly shocked by her reaction.  She’d always hid
behind the claim that she was only doing what was best for him and everyone
else that she tried to manipulate or strong-arm into doing what she wanted them
to do.  She may have even convinced herself of it.
Arthur just shook his head and slunk out of the room after his wife, shoulders
slumped and head down.
It was only the warning of his increasingly refined passive magic that allowed
Harry to throw himself back before Ron’s fist connected with his face.  He’d
felt the sudden, aggressive spike in his former best friend’s magic as he moved
with the intention to harm him.
Before Harry could even contemplate his response – be it magical, physical, or
verbal – Fred and George had Ron restrained and quickly shoved him out the
door.
“You’ve got packing to do, Ronnikins!” Fred said, the mockery of a jovial tone
thinly veiling cold anger.
“Yeah,” George collaborated, “before we decide to pack youin your trunk, too.” 
He then cheerfully slammed the door in his little brother’s face.
Silence filled the room for a long moment now that all those not supporting
Harry were gone.
“Albus and Molly set up a marriage contract against your will?” Remus finally
asked.  He looked a bit like he’d just taken a blow to the gut.
“And without my knowledge,” Harry confirmed.  “I found out when I went to
Gringotts to hear Sirius’ will.”
“Did you really marry Severus?” Remus questioned after a moment.
Harry nodded once, sharply.  “I did.”
Remus sighed sadly, “I’m so sorry, cub.”
Harry shook his head, dismissing the apology.  “The marriage is beneficial to
us both.  There’s nothing to regret.”
“Except the chance to meet someone else and fall in love,” Remus pointed out
grimly.
Harry waved a hand, brushing away the topic.  “I imagine, with time, we’ll grow
content with each other.”  He honestly didn’t believe even Severus was capable
of hating him forever when they were stuck together for life.  Hating a memory
was easy.  Hating a constant fixture in your life that wasn’t going out of his
way to reciprocate the animosity was not so easy.
Remus didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.
“What was the bonding ritual like?” Hermione burst out with, blushing when all
eyes turned to her.  Harry had gone to bed immediately after getting home from
the ritual, his magic feeling a bit ruffled.  Hermione had probably been dying
to ask that question since he’d failed to talk to her then.
He smiled a little at her curiosity.  Of course, she’d had the longest to get
used to the idea of him marrying Severus.  “It was… intense,” he admitted to
her.  She’d read the books, so she knew the mechanics of it.
“James described it as more intimate than sex,” Remus recalled, studying Harry
curiously, but with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
Harry felt his face heat with a slight blush and tried to will it away.  “I
really wouldn’t know,” he admitted uncomfortably, “but it was… intimate.  The
bond literally makes you a part of each other for the rest of your lives. 
It’s… difficult to describe.”
Before he could be questioned further, there was a perfunctory knock on the
door followed by it opening to reveal his new husband, whose black eyes flitted
around the faces in the room briefly before settling on Harry with an
expression that was dangerously close to polite.  “Are you ready, Harry?” he
asked in a tone that sounded polite on the surface, though Harry highly
suspected it had been nearly painful for him to make it so.
He couldn’t help but smile at the effort his husband was putting in to appear
passably amiable – at least in company.  “Yes,” he assured him.
He glanced around to find Remus staring at Severus with something between
befuddlement and fury.  Harry decided to nip that in the bud before it could
become something dangerous.  “Well, we’d best be going then.  You four, of
course, are welcome here whenever you wish and for as long as you wish.”
“Harry, what about the headmaster?” Remus pressed before Harry could make his
exit.
“Oh, I don’t imagine he’ll be greatly pleased by this turn of events,” Harry
admitted, surprised to hear a muffled snort that he tentatively labeled
amusement from Severus.  “There’s not much that he can actually do against the
combined Potter, Black, and Prince Houses, especially considering the recent
upswing in my popularity with the public since the existence of the prophecy
was leaked.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t try,” Severus warned ominously. 
“I don’t doubt,” Harry agreed, “but he won’t find us an easy target.”
Severus eyed him with an inscrutable expression, but Harry paid it little
mind.  Considering how poorly Severus had always thought of him, it was very
possible he was just marveling over the fact that Harry wasn’t quite what he’d
always expected.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the door.
Severus gave a sharp nod and stepped into the hallway.  Harry endured a brief
hug from Hermione and reminded her that he’d see her the following day at the
Welcoming Feast, then made good his escape after a promise to write to the
others whom he would not be seeing at Hogwarts.
Severus said nothing as he led the way back to the floo in the formal receiving
room, which was rarely used and thusly unoccupied the vast majority of the
time.  “You’ve been added to the ward, so the floo will admit you,” Severus
said briefly before clearly speaking his floo address, Severus Snape’s
Quarters, Hogwarts, and stepping into the flames.
Harry followed immediately after, stumbling out into a sitting room that
reminded him of the Slytherin common room.  It was spacious with high ceilings
and windows looking out into the Black Lake.  The room was decorated mostly in
dark, neutral shades with lighter tapestries and window hangings to keep it
from feeling too dark.  There were hints of green and silver here and there and
the occasional serpent motif, but it wasn’t as overwhelmingly Slytherin as
Harry had expected.  There were lots of bookshelves, all overflowing with
books.  That was more expected.
“I plan to go to the Ministry to change the floo address later today,” Severus’
voice drew his attention back to his husband.  “Do you have a preference as to
the new address?”
“No,” Harry quickly dismissed.  “I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.”
Severus gave a small dip of his head in agreement.  “My bedroom is through that
door,” he pointed toward the back wall of the room.  “The next is your
bedroom.  There is a shared bathroom between them.  Through that door is a
small kitchen,” he indicated the wall to the left from the floo through which
they’d entered.  “I rarely use it, but if you need any ingredients, the house-
elves will be happy to provide them.  Through there,” he indicated the sole
door on the opposite wall from the kitchen, “is my private laboratory.  If the
door is closed, it means I am working on something delicate and do not wish to
be disturbed unless it is extremely urgent.  I will leave it open a crack if a
disruption would not prove disastrous to whatever I am brewing.”  He looked at
Harry intently as he spoke of his brewing.  It was clear that he had little
hope Harry would actually be able to abide by these simple rules.
Harry just nodded, not the least surprised by the man’s lack of faith in him. 
He’d expected such treatment going into this marriage.  Severus would just have
to learn the hard way that Harry had grown up.
“That door,” he indicated the last door in the room, the only one on the wall
with the fireplace, “opens into the dungeons.  I can show you the way to the
ground floor later if you wish.  At the moment, I suspect we shall be receiving
a visitor momentarily.”
Harry grimaced in acknowledgement of that.  If he thought Molly Weasley was
bad, he imagined Dumbledore would be a hundred times worse.  Of course, he
wasn’t likely to wear his true emotions openly like Molly.  Dumbledore would
probably be brassed off, but he wouldn’t come down here just to scold them or
ask them questions.  He’d be working on his next manipulation already.  Harry
had no idea just what Dumbledore’s end-game was and that bothered him more than
a little, but there wasn’t anything that he could do about that for now.  He
could only watch and wait. 
Having Severus on his side could only help.
“I’ll just get settled in then,” said Harry, and he turned to explore his new
room.  He didn’t think he was ready to actually unpack his trunks, but he
supposed he could hang his school uniforms in his wardrobe and maybe a few
changes of everyday clothes.  His school uniforms were likely to skew the
balance of power further in his marriage, and he didn’t think Severus needed
any more reasons to treat him like a child, so he imagined he’d be changing
robes right after classes most of the time.
The room was nice.  It wasn’t overly large, but neither was it crowded.  There
was a full size bed, a wardrobe, two bookshelves taller than him, and a desk. 
The latter was near the interior door, which he assumed led to a bathroom that
he didn’t feel the need to explore at the moment.  It was decorated in a
combination of warm and cool browns accented with earthy greens.  Harry smiled
a little.  He liked it very much.
===============================================================================
Severus stared speculatively after his young husband as he disappeared into the
new bedroom.  Yesterday had been one surprise after another.  He’d seen when
Potter – Harry– had proposed that the young man had learned some pureblood
traditions and had even grown up some, but he hadn’t realized the extent of
it.  Had he not known better yesterday, he’d have believed Harry a born and
bred pureblood.  He’d exuded confidence and conviction despite the rather…
unusual circumstances.
The most significant surprise, however, had been the bonding itself.  Feeling
Harry’s magic had been… alarming.  Despite the prophecy, he never could have
guessed the boy was hiding that kind of magical power behind his mediocre
performance in lessons.  His new husband was every bit as powerful as the Dark
Lord, and that wasn’t even the most surprising part.  No, that distinction went
to the fact that the boy’s magic was Dark.  Darker than Severus’ own magic.
Severus choked back yet another hysterical laugh – this had been happening to
him since the bonding.  Harry Potter, beacon of Light and symbol of hope to
those who opposed the Dark.  And he was Dark himself.  Astonishingly so.
Virtually everyone was born with a neutral magical core.  Magic didn’t start
out Light or Dark.  That distinction came with time and experience.  In
Britain, most magicals leaned toward the Light because Hogwarts only taught
neutral and light magic and therefore automatically lent such an affinity to
its pupils by the time of their graduation.  The exception, of course, were
most of the Dark pureblood families that routinely practiced Dark magic at home
with their children.  The only way a child could be born with a core already
leaning toward the Light or Dark was if a ritual had been used in their
conception or during their gestation and it was strongly aligned.  Even then,
it could often change as the child grew.  It wasn’t until magical majority that
magical alignment became set and much more difficult to influence.
Ambient magic could also affect the aligning of a magical core if a child was
constantly exposed to it growing up.  Perhaps that was how Harry had ended up
Dark.  He did grow up surrounded by blood wards, after all.  Or perhaps it was
caused by getting hit by a Killing Curse as a baby. 
Severus sighed.  It was impossible to know really.  And realistically it didn’t
mean all that much.  The alignment of one’s magical core didn’t affect their
actions or beliefs – it certainly didn’t determine if they were “good” or
“evil”.  Harry would find it easier to manipulate Dark Magic spells, rituals,
potions, and wards.  Necromancy, blood magic, mind magics, and other Darkly
aligned schools of magic would come more naturally.  The opposite would be true
of Light magics.  He could still cast them – as his command of the Patronus
Charm proved – but they would be more of a challenge and somewhat more
magically draining to control.
Despite that reality, the political ramifications if – or perhaps when – it
eventually got out that Harry Potter was Dark would be enormous.  He supposed
he’d have to bring it up with the boy at some point because he was virtually
certain that Harry didn’t know.  However much he’d learned this summer, it
wasn’t easy to come upon information about how magical cores actually worked. 
Not in Britain, at least.  The Light held most of the political power at the
moment and Voldemort’s war made it all too easy for them to push their
pathology further every year.
Regardless of alignment, there was still the sheer power his young husband
possessed.  Severus was a very powerful wizard, but an order of magnitude
beneath Dumbledore and Voldemort.  Harry wasn’t.  He was on their level, maybe
more powerful than Dumbledore.  Very possibly as powerful as Voldemort and that
was both terrifying and oddly thrilling.  To think that he was permanently
bound to such a powerful wizard was… heady.  Even accounting for the fact that
said wizard was a foolish Gryffindor.  Harry was still very young.  If he
continued as he’d begun this summer, he could grow into a very impressive
wizard.  A wizard Severus would be proud to call his husband, even.
“Lord Prince,” he was brought out of his ruminations by the voice of the
portrait guarding his door.  Lord Ribald Slytherin – or his portrait, rather –
had taken enthusiastically to Severus’ new name and title, and would now call
him nothing else.  “The headmaster to see you.”
Severus grimaced distastefully at the expected announcement.  Dealing with
Albus was rarely pleasant, but it was certain to be considerably less so than
normal today.  A glance over his shoulder proved that Harry had heard the
announcement, because he stepped back into the sitting room and closed his
bedroom door behind him.  He was standing tall and his face was grim, but he
looked altogether much more impressive than his slight age should have allowed.
Or perhaps Severus was merely incapable of seeing that bumbling idiot he’d
taught the last five years after feeling the sheer depth of his magic. 
Thoughts for another time.  He made certain that his face was clear of emotion
before waving a hand to release the wards on the door with a light brush of his
magic.  A glance at Harry showed the young man looking curious, but neither
said anything as the door swung open to reveal a very grave-faced Albus
Dumbledore.
“Severus,” the old man nodded, appearing sad and displeased as he gently closed
the door behind him and turned eyes on the youngest of them, “Harry, my boy,”
he sighed with pure disappointment.  “How did this come about?”
Harry lifted a supremely unimpressed eyebrow at the old man and Severus
suppressed an amused smirk.  “A question I would like answered as well,
Headmaster,” Harry said coolly.  “How did you find yourself drawing up a
contract to trap me into a marriage against my will?  It was after my second
year, yes?  I’d just saved Ginny’s life and defeated Riddle for the second
time.”  He paused a moment, then added incredulously, “And somewhere in there
you decided it would be a good idea to choose my spouse for me?  How didthat
happen?”
Albus sighed a somewhat put-upon sigh, “Harry, my boy, why don’t we sit down,”
he gestured toward the sofa and armchair near the fire.
“I’m quite certain I’d prefer to stand,” Harry didn’t miss a beat.
“Very well,” Albus capitulated like an annoyed, but tolerant grandfather.  “I
understand that you’re upset, Harry.  You’re still very young and I know that
you weren’t raised in the wizarding world, so an arranged marriage must shock
you, but I assure you, I only meant to protect you.  I saw in your second year
just how powerful you were becoming, Harry, and how fickle the public was to
your fame.”
Harry’s brow rose with exaggerated patient interest, but Severus could
literally feel his growing anger, which was an odd and somewhat uncomfortable
revelation.  It was their marriage bond, he supposed.  He’d expecting something
like this immediately upon realizing just how powerful his husband actually
was.  Given a little time without interruption, he’d be able to control the
link to avoid feeling it unless he wanted to, but at the moment, it was still
new and untamed.
“When you came of age – when you took your lordship – the public would have
given you no moment’s peace in their efforts to secure their House an alliance
through marriage with your own.  I felt it was necessary to bind you to a House
that you could trust.  The Weasleys adore you and would have been a strong
support for you as you moved into adulthood.  I only wanted what was best for
you.”
Harry nodded and he actually looked like he was seeing the merit in what the
headmaster was saying.  Severus may have believed it had he not keenly felt the
tightly controlled fury burning away through the newborn link between them.  “I
can see that,” Harry allowed.  “I suppose that’s why you set the bride price at
a quarter of a million galleons.”
“Harry, the Weasleys barely make it through each year, and they are too proud
to accept a gift of money.  Do you truly mean to tell me that you’d not give
them money if you could?  That you wouldn’t offer them all the appreciation
that you could manage for the way they’ve cared for you since you’ve come into
the wizarding world.”
Harry smiled a little despite the well of rage still burning strong, “No,
you’re right.  I’d have given them many times that much if they’d just asked.”
“But they never would,” Albus pointed out kindly.  “I saw an opportunity to
help them, and I took it, secure in the knowledge that you would never deny
them such a paltry assistance as that.”
“And you were protecting me when you instructed the goblins not to tell me
about the marriage contract until I’d accepted the Potter lordship?” Harry
asked curiously.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Harry.  I knew that you wouldn’t
understand.  Marriage in the wizarding world is so different from the muggle
world.  I wanted to ensure that I had the opportunity to explain to you exactly
what it meant and why I did it,” Albus explained reasonably.
Harry smiled a little wider at that and nodded again.  “Yeah, I guess it does
make sense when you put it like that,” but it was clear to Severus that Harry
was anything but meaning the words he was saying.  “Of course, that doesn’t
change the fact that you made a decision that would affect the rest of my life
without consulting me.  I understand that you thought you had valid reasons,
but why not explain things to me, and then discuss the possibility of an
arranged marriage?”
“My boy, perhaps that is what I should have done, but I wasn’t sure you were
old enough to even be reasonable about the situation, much less make a prudent
decision,” Albus reasoned.
“So, better to ask forgiveness than permission, huh?” Harry asked with a little
bite leaking into his tone and eyes.
“Harry, can you really say that this situation is preferable?” Albus
petitioned.  “Instead of marrying a lovely, bright young witch your own age,
you’ve chosen to tie yourself to a man twice your age with a long-standing
animosity toward your family.  Severus is a good man,” the old man said with an
acknowledging nod to Severus, who just lifted an eyebrow at the old goat, “but
you and he have never gotten along.  Can you truly tell me that this will make
you happy?  I know that you wanted to feel like you were making the choice in
this, Harry, but this is exactly why I didn’t tell you.  You are not
emotionally mature enough to make decisions of this importance.”
Harry smiled broadly now, but it was all teeth.  His eyes were as cold as his
tone when he spoke.  “Not three months ago, you were apologizing and even
voluntarily taking the blame for your contribution to my godfather’s death. 
You also apologized for leaving me to grow up in a home devoid of affection
despite the fact that you clearly think you did the right thing there.  Then,
you apologized for not telling me sooner about the prophecy.
“Have you noticed the theme here, headmaster?  Because I have.  You make a
decision that directly affects the course of my life.  Then, later, you realize
that you were wrong and you’ve harmed me more than helped, or at least nearly
as much as you’ve helped.  You then apologize, as though that will right the
wrong,” he chuckled a little bit at that, and it wasn’t anything like amused. 
“And then you lieto me.  I distinctly recall you telling me that you’d stop
keeping things from me, headmaster.  But that, in itself, was a lie.  Even as
you said it, you were still withholding the marriage contract.”
“I said that I wouldn’t keep from you things that involved Voldemort, Harry,”
Albus corrected firmly.
Harry’s lip curled in a small sneer, but he didn’t contradict that explicitly. 
“The number of mistakesyou’ve made in your attempts to do what’s best for me
have lost you any right to continue making choices ‘for my own good’,
headmaster,” Harry snapped.  “It’s clear to me that you’re not doing what is
best for me even if that has been your intention all along.”
Severus could almost hear the “which I highly doubt” attached to that sentence,
but that may have been because he was feeling the younger man’s emotions.
“I am now a Lord twice over and married to one as well,” here, he gave a nod
toward Severus, “I am an adult in all the ways that matter, and I will tolerate
your meddling in my life no longer.  If you wish to speak to me as an adult, I
may consider your advice, but you will not attempt to make decisions for me.  I
am the husband of one of your professors and a student in this school, that is
the extent of our relationship.”
Albus looked supremely saddened and disappointed at this point.  “I can see
that I’ve lost your trust, Harry, and for that I am truly sorry.  I have only
ever tried to do what I thought was best for you.  I know that I haven’t always
succeeded in that, and it grieves me deeply to know that I’ve hurt you.  I will
do what I can to earn back your trust, my boy.  For now, I’ll leave you to get
settled with your husband.  I truly hope that you won’t come to regret your
decision.”
With that parting shot, he dipped his head to them both and let himself out.
There was a moment of silence after the door was closed and then Harry drew in
a very deep breath and his eyes fell closed.  He held it for a moment, and then
very slowly released it and the rigid tension in his body seemed to bleed away
with the expelled breath.
Severus raised an eyebrow when he felt all that bottled fury that had been held
in check just drain away.  Perhaps that explained the drastic change in the boy
this summer.  If he’d learned meditation well enough to control his emotions,
it could have had a large impact on the teen that had possessed such a volatile
temper last year.
===============================================================================
“Well, that was bracing,” Harry sighed as his eyes opened once more.  Rage was
fully back under control now, though Harry knew he’d need to spend probably his
entire self-therapy session tonight going over all the crap Dumbledore had been
spewing.  A ready fucking answer for everything.
Severus lifted a sardonic eyebrow in response and his face remained stony, but
Harry noticed that he could feel the same amusement and intrigue that he’d been
getting from their newly-developing bond all through that lovely meeting.  He
couldn’t help but wonder what his new husband was finding so amusing about this
whole situation.
“Come,” the older man instructed perfunctorily before starting for the door to
the rest of the castle.
“Why?” Harry asked blandly.  He was pretty sure that he knew as Severus had
mentioned showing him the way up to the ground floor, but he didn’t appreciate
the assumption that he would follow commands, and he knew that if he didn’t put
a stop to that immediately, it would set a very bad precedent for their entire
marriage.  He felt a sharp spike of annoyance through the bond as Severus came
to a stop in front of the door, but it was tightly reined.
“I was going to show you how to get to the rest of the castle,” Severus bit out
harshly.  “Unless you’d prefer to fumble about on your own and doubtlessly
become lost in the labyrinth of tunnels down here?”  He managed to make that
sound like an actual offer.
Harry huffed a small laugh against his will.  He was emotionally wrung out
between Dumbledore and the Weasleys this morning, and he didn’t quite have the
ambition to fight with his bonded.  Not without a good reason, at least.  “Of
course,” he said graciously.  “Lead on.”
Severus’ annoyance grew stronger, by which Harry assumed the man was taking
Harry’s laugh for mocking, but he wasn’t going to try to correct him.  No
amount of talking on Harry’s part was going to convince Severus that he wasn’t
anything like his dad.  Only time would prove that, so Harry didn’t bother
wasting his breath.
Severus gave him a filthy look, but said nothing further as he led the way out
of the room and down the corridors.  He was right, they were labyrinthine, but
it not overly complicated to remember the right way out.  Or, they wouldn’t
have been even had Harry not had Knowledge building a mental map as they
walked.  They passed the Slytherin common room entrance, which Harry remembered
from second year.  It was just a blank stretch of wall, though there was a
sconce directly across from it that was slightly different than the rest in the
corridor.  Instead of being comprised on just three serpentine candle holders,
there were a further three wrought iron snakes curving around them.  It wasn’t
so different as to draw the unwary eye, but easy enough to note if you were
looking for it.
Impressively done.
Severus moved passed it without comment, not surprisingly, and they soon
ascended to the entrance hall.  “Can you remember that?” Severus asked, once
again feigning politeness despite the fact there were no obvious witnesses.
“Yes,” Harry assured.  “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Severus looked dubious, but didn’t contradict the assertion.  “If you will be
so kind as to accompany me back to our suite, I will key you into the door
wards,” he said with overdone patience.
“I would be delighted,” Harry smiled a little wider than necessary.
The walk didn’t take long, as Severus kept to his usual brisk pace that had
Harry struggling to keep up with his shorter stride.  When they got back to
their rooms, Severus introduced Harry to Lord Slytherin.
“Slytherin?” Harry asked curiously.
“Lord Ribald Slytherin,” the portrait said haughtily.  “Eldest son of Salazar
Slytherin, professor here for twenty-three years.  You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t
you?”  He said Gryffindor like it was a dirty word.
Harry smiled at him and used Parseltongue to reply, “Slytherin was the Hat’s
first choice for me.”
“And you chose Gryffindor?” the portrait demanded incredulously.  “A descendant
of the Great House of Slytherin voluntarily put himself among the self-
righteous fools?”
“I was eleven and taught nothing prior to that!”Harry snapped in return.  Damn,
he really was too emotionally frayed to be dealing with this shit.  He really
wasn’t going to even bother addressing the fact that he wasn’t technically a
descendent, but merely connected to one and a deep and disturbing level. 
Slytherin lifted an imperious eyebrow and switched back to English, “Well, then
I hope you’ve corrected that oversight.”
“It’s a work in progress,” Harry admitted.
Slytherin nodded.  “Very well, then,” he allowed.  “Your password, Lord Potter-
Black?”
Harry gave it a moment of thought before offering a parseltongue word that
didn’t really translate, but basically meant “home”.  Literally, it would be
something more like, “Nest with mate” or something of the sort.
He glanced at Severus as the portrait inclined its head approvingly before
swinging open.  The older man’s emotions were tightly controlled enough that
Harry wasn’t feeling enough to really define through the link, but his
expression was vaguely curious.  When Harry looked at him, the look went away
and the man swept passed him into their rooms and directly into the lab.  The
door was closed all but the smallest crack and Harry took that to mean he
wanted some time alone.
Harry wasn’t about to argue as he slipped into his bedroom and closed the door
behind him before sprawling across his bed.  Not even noon and the day had
already been too long.
With a weary sigh, he sat up and toed off his shoes, then moved to the middle
of the bed and folded his legs in front of him.  He closed his eyes and slowed
his breathing, sending himself into the meditative trance that would let him
fully access his mindscape despite being awake.
It took less than a minute now, to get where he wanted to be.  A minor effort
of will took him from the library where he’d been last to the new addition to
his mindscape.  His connection to Severus.
He took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky sigh as he took in the link. 
It was both beautiful and terrifying.  It hovered in the air in front of him,
large enough that he could easily step through it if he chose.  It looked like
nothing so much as the muggle cinematic approximation of a wormhole floating
there.  It was cylindrical in shape, the edges made up of a combination of
swirling mists in the colors of his and Severus’ magic wound together.  In the
center, was what looked like a tunnel into darkness.  Vague shapes moved on the
other side, but nothing that Harry could make out, by which he assumed Severus
had already tightened off the connection from his end.
With a nod to himself, Harry conjured a thick fog to hang about at the entrance
of the connection on his side.  It wouldn’t really block Severus if the man
decided to snoop, but it would prevent passive transference and it would let
Harry know immediately if Severus did invite himself in.  That would do for
now.  He then moved himself to the receiving room in his mind and went about
building another anteroom. 
With how much practice he’d had at building in his mind at this point, it took
barely an hour for Harry to construct a very sturdy room with an iron-bound
door separating it from the receiving room and the rest of Harry’s mind.  From
there, it was just an effort of will to move the location of the link to this
room.  He wasn’t actually manipulating the link in doing that, but just
rearranging where he perceived it to be so that it lined up with the
protections he was building.  Of course, nothing in his mind had an actual
physical location.  It was all just in the way his mind was organized to access
things, so moving them around was just a matter of concentration on his part. 
The trick was to ensure that it was impossible to do on anyone else’s part.
When the link was where he wanted it, he carefully constructed a door made of a
wrought iron frame and many small squares of glass filling them in.  The idea
was that the window would block most of the noise from Severus’ mind – assuming
the man ever let anything through – but wouldn’t keep out everything that Harry
may wish to be aware of, like if Severus was in real trouble.  The door could
be opened in the rather rare circumstance that he ever wished to speak directly
to Severus this way or even invite him in.  There was also a pull-down blind
that would further obscure the link.  Harry pulled that down now, then
carefully covered the door and the entire anteroom in a ward built of a memory
of watching and listening intently as Remus taught him the Patronus Charm.  The
memory was laced heavily through with his magic and would let him know
instantly if Severus so much as mentally breathed on the glass of the door.
That done, Harry stepped out of the anteroom, closed the iron-bound door, and
flipped down a heavy locking bar.  Severus would notbe entering his mind again
without permission.
Chapter End Notes
     So, apparently, I'm really bad at bashing Ginny. I'd really meant to
     in this story, but I like Ginny. I don't like her as Harry's
     significant other, but she makes a great fag hag. I just couldn't
     stand turning her into a gold digging shrew. Sorry, if you were
     hoping for that.
     Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this long overdue chapter. I make no
     promises for future updates, but I will say that the plot for the
     rest of the story is starting to come together.
***** Cursed Curses *****
Chapter Summary
     Sixth Year begins!
                      The Power of a Well-Organized Mind
                                   Chapter 9
                                 Cursed Curses
1 September 1996
 
Severus took his seat at the head table in the Great Hall, ignoring the staring
from the other professors.  Thus far, he’d managed to avoid their imbecilic
opinions on his personal life, but he was certain it couldn’t last much
longer.  As though he cared what they thought about the fact that he’d married
a sixteen-year-old student.  It’s not as though there was anything lecherous to
the union, but it wouldn’t be any of their business even if there was.
When Albus took his seat, Severus made a point of ignoring him just as
studiously even though the old man seemed to want to catch his eye.  He hadn’t
been overly surprised when the headmaster had asked Severus to join him in his
office for a game of chess the previous evening.  Of course, the game played on
the board was not half so important as the verbal one taking place.  Albus was
concerned that Harry was being influenced by the Dark Lord through their
connection.  Severus found that highly unlikely.
Yes, it was true that Harry had changed a lot over the last few months, but
Severus didn’t see any similarity between the boy and the Dark Lord.  Their
personalities were nothing alike and their temperaments definitely had no
similarity.  If Harry was being influenced, Severus would have expected him to
be more short-tempered and irrational.  Actually, the boy had borne more
resemblance to the Dark Lord last year than this one.
No, he didn’t think it was likely, but he would keep an eye on the boy.  He
wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss anything concerning the Dark Lord without
absolute proof, and he’d already demonstrated his ability to get into the boy’s
head.  To possess him, even.
“Severus,” Filius greeted cheerfully as he took his seat at Severus side.
“Filius,” Severus nodded in return, vainly hoping that the man would turn the
rest of his conversational intent upon Pomona on his other side.
“I hear congratulations are in order!” he exclaimed, disappointing, but not
surprising Severus.  “May magic bless your bond, my friend.”
“My thanks,” Severus had to nod a reply because that was a polite and
traditional well-wish.
“Yes, it was quite a surprise,” Filius went on.  “I wasn’t sure whether to
believe it at all when I read the paper, but I can see from that ring on your
finger that the Prophet wasn’t in error this time.”
Blessedly, Pomona picked that moment to address Filius with a question about
some of his students and Severus was able to tune out them both.
Thus far, Harry truly wasn’t turning out to be anything like he’d expected –
feared, really.  He’d been very quiet, kept mostly to his bedroom, and never
started any fights.  Polite was probably not quite the right word, but perhaps
nonconfrontational would not be inaccurate.  He’d also been generally more
mature.  He didn’t glare at Severus, but neither did he cower from him.  He
didn’t defer to him in any way, which had been annoying at first, but was
actually something of a relief.  Severus dealt with enough bratty students in
his life without being married to one.  He just hoped the boy didn’t take too
cavalier an approach to his behavior in Severus’ classes.
It was strange having someone in his personal space, but not quite as
intolerable as he’d imagined.  Though Harry didn’t spend much time in the
common area, he didn’t give the impression that he was hiding from Severus so
much as just seeking privacy.  When they did come across each other, Harry
didn’t act like a startled sheep.  He usually just nodded or murmured a polite
greeting before going about whatever he’d been doing.
It was an arrangement that Severus could easily see becoming rather comfortable
with a little time.  That was honestly more than he’d expected of this
marriage.
Almost involuntarily, Severus’ eyes found Harry as he entered the Great Hall
with his little friends – none of which were apparently Weasleys, he noted. 
There was a lot of staring and pointing and whispering behind hands going on as
Harry moved toward his seat.  Severus found himself mildly impressed by the
fact that Harry barely seemed to notice the attention.  A lifetime of practice
at the center of attention, he supposed, rather uncharitably.
===============================================================================
Harry had been in the great hall all of two minutes and he was already losing
patience with the student body as a whole.  Neville and Luna had been the only
ones to wish him well in his marriage.  Everyone else just stared and pointed
and whispered to each other as though he couldn’t either hear or easily imagine
exactly what they were saying about him.
He did his best to ignore them until his Gryffindor year mates evidently
decided that it wouldn’t be impolite to interrogate him.
“Hey, Harry, did you really marry the greasy git?” Dean pressed immediately,
oblivious to the way the purebloods around him widened their eyes and leaned
back a little as they looked between him and Harry.  Insulting someone’s spouse
was a very serious social gaffe in the wizarding world. 
Harry looked up at the boy very gravely and spoke, his voice loud in the sudden
hush that had fallen around them among those who’d heard Dean’s comment. 
“Dean, you would do yourself a large favor to study a bit of wizarding
etiquette.  I am Lord of two houses.  My husband is Lord of another.  To insult
him in my hearing is to insult me.”
“He’s right,” Hermione interrupted before Dean could put his foot in it any
further.  “If he feels the insult is great enough, he can demand a duel.  More
commonly, as you’re underage and muggleborn, he could demand penance from your
family.  If it was refused, it could create a permanent rift between you and
your families.”
“What?!” Dean exclaimed incredulously, looking at the students around them and
finding no one saying otherwise.  “Why haven’t I ever heard of any of this
before?!” he demanded.  “And what do you mean I’munderage.  We’re all
underage.”
“Probably because you don’t run across very many married people in school,” she
shrugged, “And Harry is Lord of House Potter and House Black.  It’s impossible
to be Lord of a House and be a minor.  The process of assuming Lordship induces
magical and legal majority.  So Harry is an adult now, regardless of his age.”
Dean was quiet a moment before sheepishly muttering, “Sorry, Harry.”
Harry dipped his head acceptingly.  He’d been expecting this.  It was bloody
ridiculous that Hogwarts didn’t offer any kind of wizarding culture class for
muggleborns.  Not everyone had Hermione’s drive to learn everything about
everything and Hogwarts never even let on that these things were important. 
“Just don’t talk poorly about my husband where I can hear you,” he advised,
letting his eyes touch on each of his yearmates to include them in the
warning.  He knew it wouldn’t be easy for them.  They routinely mocked and
bitched about the man.  Not that Harry could blame them as he’d done the same
for years.  He absolutely refused to dishonor himself or his marriage by
letting it pass unchecked now.  It wasn’t about Severus even, but about the
fact that they were part of a team now.
Thankfully, the tension was diffused when McGonagall entered with a trail of
first years following her like timid ducklings.  Harry didn’t pay a lot of
attention to the sorting, merely clapping each time the Hat shouted out
Gryffindor.  Thankfully, it wasn’t overly long before the food was served,
because Harry was hungry.  He was used to eating large, regular meals now.
Mostly to stave off stupid questions, Harry engaged Hermione in a discussion
about Arithmancy and spellcrafting in particular that soon had her so
distracted that he had to remind her to eat from time to time.
Harry did his best to ignore Ron through all this.  The boy was sitting several
places down on the other side of Seamus and glaring at Harry in between
inhaling his food.  It did sting to see, but Harry was really less surprised
than he might have been.  Ron had done the same thing in fourth year, after
all.  Then it had been jealousy.  Now, Harry supposed, it was probably pride. 
Harry had “rejected” his sister, after all.  And kicked his family out of his
house.  And the fact Harry had married Severus, whom Ron hated.
He forced himself to push any regret from his mind.  This was Ron’s fault, not
his.  Ron was the one who always seemed to care more about his own feelings
than his friendship with Harry.  He couldn’t afford to put up with a fair-
weather friend anymore, and he shouldn’t have to.
He repeated that thought to himself each time he accidentally caught Ron’s
glare.
When the meal ended, Dumbledore rose and gave his usual announcements,
welcoming everyone and warning them about the Forbidden Forest and Filch’s
rules and restrictions.  Anything from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was apparently
banned, which made Harry smile a little.  He reallydoubted that anyone would be
abiding by that rule.
“And now, we have a new teacher this year,” Dumbledore went on, drawing all
eyes to the unknown face at the table.  “Professor Horace Slughorn be taking
over the teaching of Potions this year.”
Murmurs of surprise rose across the hall at that and Harry turned his eyes to
his husband, his brow furrowing curiously.  He couldn’t help but feel that
Severus could have given him a heads up about this.  Honestly, how did it look
that he was obviously surprised by this?  When Severus’ eyes met his, Harry
lifted an exasperated eyebrow.  He thought the corner of Severus’ mouth may
have turned up in response, but he couldn’t be certain because the expression
was gone momentarily.
"Professor Prince will be serving as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this
year," Dumbledore explained.
It quickly became apparent that Harry's altercation with Dean would not be the
last he encountered with regard to the Gryffindors and his husband as they
quickly forgot themselves in the excitement of the announcement.  As
speculation about how the curse would get rid of their most hated teacher
circulated, Harry slapped his open hand down hard on the table.  A hush quickly
spread through them as they turned wary eyes on Harry.  He shared a glare among
them and they quickly turned their attention back to the head table where
Dumbledore dismissed them for the evening.
“Harry!  Are you okay?” Hermione asked as she hurried to catch him up as he
started quickly out of the Great Hall.
“Fine,” he assured her with a not entirely sincere smile.  “Look, I’m pretty
tired.  I think I’m just going to head down for the night.  I’ll see you at
breakfast, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she sighed and Harry hurried for the dungeons before she could change
her mind.
===============================================================================
 
Harry stood in the room with his magical core, staring pensively at the multi-
hued orb of his magic, streaked through with the magic of his Houses and
wrapped in the warm embrace of Severus’ magic.  He was sure that he could just
bask in that connection for hours without growing bored.  It was the strangest,
most wonderful thing he’d ever experienced.
Despite his rather rocky history with his husband, that bond inspired powerful
feelings of possessiveness and pride that he couldn’t fully understand, much
less explain.  Severus was his.  That’s what that bond said to him.  Severus
belonged to him and no one else could have him.  Not Voldemort.  Not
Dumbledore.  Not anyone else.
Which, perhaps, is why he’d been quietly freaking out ever since learning that
Severus was the new DADA teacher.  Seriously, what the fuck was Dumbledore
thinking?  The position was cursed.  Everyone with two braincells to rub
together knew that.  No one had been able to hold the position two years in a
row for the last fifty years.  That was so far beyond coincidence that it was
ridiculous.
Umbridge was kidnapped by centaurs.  Crouch was Kissed.  Remus was exposed for
a werewolf – an exposure that would haunt him for the rest of his life. 
Lockhart’s mind was permanently destroyed by an out-of-control Obliviate. 
Quirrell was killed.
Three of the last five defense teachers dead or as good as.  One who would deal
with the consequences for the rest of his life.  The other who would hopefully
never fully recover from the trauma.
And Severus just fucking volunteered himself for number six?
The fact that Harry was, at least in part, responsible for four of those five
situations, he didn’t know if it was good or bad.  It could be good because
Harry might be able to influence the situation with Severus to not be as bad. 
Or it could be really bad because Harry could end up partly responsible for
whatever happened to him.
Fucking hell.  He really hated this.
With a weary sigh, Harry turned his attention away from the bond in his core
and moved to his library.  Knowledge looked up from the shelf he was perusing
when Harry arrived.
“I need to figure out how I’m connected to Voldemort,” Harry said at once.  His
marriage bond had given him the idea.  That bond in his magical core is what
enabled the marriage bond.
So what the fuck was enabling his bond with Voldemort?
It had to be in his magic, he was sure of it.  It was the only thing that made
sense.  It was way too similar to the marriage bond.  The bond was obvious when
he looked at his core, though.  Before he’d assumed his lordships, his magic
had been one solid, unrelieved mass.  So, it stood to reason, that his
connection to Voldemort was indistinguishable from his magic.  He needed a way
to find it.
Knowledge narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and turned to examine the shelves
speculatively.  Then he nodded to himself and crossed the room to select a
large tome from one of the shelves.  Harry met him at a study table and they
sat down across from each other.
“Soul magic,” Knowledge began, opening the book in front of Harry.  “The oldest
school of magic – arguably the first form of magic known to the human race. 
The first witches and wizards are said to have harnessed soul magic to give
themselves and all of their offspring the gift of magic in their souls.  I have
yet to see any proof of this legend, but I have seen it referenced from at
least five unique sources, so it is widespread.
“Some of the oldest books you’ve assimilated regard Soul Magic as divine and
those who mastered the art as clerics of Magick Herself.  Modern day Britain,
however, has come to see it as the Darkest of magicks.  I do not know how it is
currently viewed elsewhere.  As you may imagine, Soul Magic is any magic
dealing directly with the soul of any sapient being, though it is also
sometimes defined as only that dealing with the human soul.
“What you are looking for is a spell capable of reading your own soul on a deep
level.  Something that will be able to identify every minute facet it.”
“I thought I was trying to read my magical core,” Harry interjected.  “I know
that’s contained within my soul, but…”
 “The magical core is not merely contained within the soul as I previously
believed with only the fragments of information I gleaned from some of
Voldemort’s old memories.  The magical core    is    the soul of the witch or
wizard.  Or, more accurately, it is a witch or wizard’s soul that is the
magical core.  It is what differentiates us from the muggles.  Their souls are
made of magic – as are all souls – but they cannot hold any.  Of a magus, the
soul is a well of magic.     Think of it like a sponge.  The most powerful
magical cores are    extremely    porous and highly    absorbent   .  They have
a very high saturation point and are capable of holding an incredible amount of
magic.  Others are dense and hardened and can contain only a miniscule trickle,
those, of course, being squibs.  Muggle souls are solid, causing magic to wash
off them without making any purchase whatsoever, which is why they cannot use
magical objects and most potions have no effect on them."   
Harry shifted uncomfortably.  The information was fascinating, but
disconcerting.  It was bad enough to think Voldemort was connected to his
magic.  To think he was connected to his very soul was…
Well, disturbing was the mildest term that came to mind.
This meant that the marriage bond was rooted right in his and Severus’ souls. 
No wonder it was so intimate and life-altering.
It also meant…  “Doesn’t that mean that the blocks Dumbledore put on my magic
were Soul Magic?”
“Magical blocks are technically soul magic,” Knowledge nodded.  “They are only
legal in two instances.  The first is in containing prisoners.  They’re not
usually necessary because of the magic dampening runes on all the cells in
Azkaban, but before the prison was built they were used routinely for
criminals.  They are still used occasionally in extreme circumstances.  If
Voldemort were arrested, for instance, magical blocks would doubtless be
determined necessary.  The second instance is for protecting children that come
into their magic prematurely.  The blocks protect the child and those around
him or her until the child is old enough to learn proper control.  It is only
legal with the consent of the child’s parents or guardians.”
“So Dumbledore was within his rights to place those blocks.”
“Yes,” Knowledge agreed, “but it is not legal to leave those blocks in place
once the child is enrolled in a magical school without the approval of a
licensed healer indicating that it is necessary.”
Harry shook his head, more sad and bewildered than actually angry, “Why would
he leave them in place?  Why would he handicap me like that, especially as I
seemed to end up fighting for my life every single year?  Why would he not give
me some kind of tutoring at any point to prepare me?  Does he wantme to die?”
“That, I can’t answer,” Knowledge said quietly.
Harry sighed and shook off the melancholic thoughts.  “So, I need a spell to
analyze my… soul.  To look for signs of Voldemort hiding inside it,” he
reasoned.
“Correct,” Knowledge asserted.  “Unfortunately, I have not come across any such
spell in any of the books you’ve assimilated, nor any indication that such a
thing exists.  I suggest you devote as much time as you can manage to
assimilating every book related to soul magic that you can manage.  In
addition, spend a portion of your nights studying the books you’ve
assimilated.  I’ll direct you to those most relevant.  We’ll either find the
spell you’re looking for, or you’ll learn enough about soul magic to create
your own spell for the purpose.”
Harry’s eyes widened.  “You really think I could create a spell?”  Despite
studying Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, spellcraft wasn’t something he’d ever
considered actually doing.  Sure, the theory was interesting, but it was also
really advanced stuff.
“You will need to study more advanced Arithmancy and Runes, but you should be
able to manage it within a month or so with the help of myself and the others.”
Harry swallowed and nodded, leaning back in his chair and wondering why it was
suddenly hitting him so hard, just how far he’d come since the end of last
year.  He honestly didn’t think Sirius would be proud of him given that he’d
married Severus, but this wasn’t about making Sirius proud.  It was about
making him the last of Harry’s loved ones to die because Harry fucked up.
With that in mind, he took a bracing breath and resolutely turned his attention
to the book in front of him.  He could do this because it was important. 
Finding out how he was connected to Voldemort could be important.  Admittedly,
it might not be important, too, but he thought the odds were in his favor. 
After all, Voldemort had used their connection to trick Harry into going to the
Ministry.  Maybe Harry could do something like that too if he had a better
understanding of the bond, what exactly it was, and how it worked.
===============================================================================
2 September 1996
Harry took a moment to glare irritably at the pile of his school books before
he started stuffing them all into his expanded shoulder bag.  He was missing
three of his class books.  It was his own fault, really.  He’d been so focused
on the wedding and assimilating the books in the Grimmauld Place study and then
the ones from his library trunk, he hadn’t gotten around to going through his
school books until last night.  He’d meant to assimilate them all last night
prior to starting classes so that he’d have the reference at hand and be better
prepared.  That was when he’d found the missing books.  He’d foolishly allowed
Mrs. Weasley to pick up his books for him while he’d gotten new robes.  She’d
obviously assumed he wouldn’t be attending NEWT potions and had just as
obviously overlooked the fact that he was taking NEWT Runes and Arithmancy. 
When he’d realized the oversight last night, he’d written a letter to Flourish
and Blotts and sent it off with Hedwig straight away, but it would still take
probably two days to actually get the books.  In the meantime, he’d have to
explain to his professors why he wasn’t prepared.  At least Severus wasn’t
teaching potions this year.  Harry could just imagine how thrilled he’d be to
see his new young husband show up to his class unprepared.  Harry could almost
hear the vicious rants about how he thought he was better than everyone else
and didn’t have to bother being prepared.
At least those rants would happen in the privacy of their rooms – or even
better, the privacy of Severus’ head – now that they were married.
With a sigh, he dismissed the extraneous fretting and headed up to breakfast. 
He hadn’t seen Severus this morning, though he’d heard the shower running
between their rooms when he’d first woken and thus assumed the man had headed
out earlier than Harry.
In the Great Hall, Harry found a seat next to Neville across from Hermione, the
latter of whom was reading her Ancient Runes book in one hand while she ate
with the other.  No doubt getting some last-minute revision in before their
first class. 
In his attempts to avoid looking at Ron, who was sitting a bit further down the
table, glaring at him again, Harry found his eyes falling on Ginny, who was
seated among her yearmates with her head propped on her fist, elbow settled on
the table next to her plate as she picked despondently at her food.  She looked
thoroughly depressed and Harry felt a pang of guilt that he told himself was
mostly ridiculous.  Her situation was hardly his fault.
Still, perhaps he should tell her that he didn’t really blame her.  Not since
it was obvious that she regretted the action she’d taken when she was barely
twelve years old and at her parents’ direction.  If she was still harboring the
same delusions as her mum, he’d definitely be holding it against her, but it
was clear that she wished she’d never signed that marriage contract.  He
supposed that he should probably tell her that he didn’t hate her.
With another sigh, he silently asked Knowledge to put that on his to-do list. 
There was no time to talk to her now before class, and even if there was, the
Great Hall certainly wasn’t the place to do it.
Professor McGonagall distracted him as she came through handing out
timetables.  Neville, apparently, hadn’t scored highly enough to take
Transfigurations at NEWT level, but would be able to take Charms.  Hermione, of
course, was taking everything she could fit on her timetable without a time
turner.  When she came to Harry, he was pleased to hear that he’d be able to
take potions.  When he’d learned that Severus wasn’t teaching it this year,
he’d hoped that his E would be good enough, but he hadn’t been sure.
As McGonagall moved on to the next student, Harry looked over his timetable
thoughtfully.  Classes were lighter this year than in the past.  Most of them
would only be attended once or twice a week, but they were all double periods
and he didn’t doubt there would be more than enough homework to keep them
occupied during their free periods.  He had an edge there thanks to his
mindscape and Knowledge, but that was good.  He’d need all his extra time to
figure out the spell he needed and once he understood how his bond with
Voldemort worked, hopefully he could figure out what he could do about it.
Then there was always actually killing the bastard to contend with.  Harry was
making plans for after the war because he meant to survive it.  And if he was
going to survive it, he was going to need to learn everything humanly possible
– magically possible, really – to prepare himself.  He was going to need to
come up with a plan and a really good one.  He no longer trusted Dumbledore and
he’d be damned if he continued to count on that man to keep him alive. 
Especially now that the old man had revealed the prophecy and the fact that
Harry was expected to be the one to kill the Dark Lord when he hadn’t done
anything to prepare him for it.
It was far too much like Dumbledore wasn’t planning on Harry living through
it.  Or maybe he was just delusional enough to think Love would miraculously
overcome him with some superpower and Voldemort would just keel over dead.
Harry still didn’t feel like he really understood what love even was and he
honestly didn’t know if he was capable of properly feeling it.  Maybe his
connection with Voldemort had broken something inside him.
Forcibly shoving those horrible thoughts from his mind, Harry glanced at the
time and started in surprise, realizing that the Great Hall was already
beginning to empty.  He quickly nudged Hermione’s foot with his under the
table, “We’ll be late,” he pointed out, already getting up and shouldering his
bag.
With a gasp, Hermione checked her watch, then set about stuffing her book in
her bag.
Harry frowned at the amount of food still on her plate and made a mental note
to remind her to eat a few more times come lunch.  He knew that he was hardly
one to be scolding anyone on their eating habits, but Hermione had pushed him
to eat enough times that he felt he owed her both the encouragement, and the
irritation of dealing with a pushy friend.
With a small, secret smile, Harry followed Hermione out of the Great Hall and
up to the Ancient Runes classroom on the fifth floor.  They were nearly to the
classroom when Hermione finally seemed to realize he was following her.
“Oh, Harry!  I completely forgot that you were in Ancient Runes, too, this
year.  It’s going to be so great now we can finally talk about it and study
together, and I’ll help you with your homework.  I know you’re behind on this,
even if you did pass your OWL, which is really quite impressive.”
Harry smiled indulgently as she rambled while they took seats, not
surprisingly, front and center.  Despite being among the last into the room,
those seats remained conspicuously vacant.  Harry wondered if no one else was
brave enough to sit there or if these kids had just been taking this class with
Hermione long enough to know she’d want the seat.
As soon as he and Hermione were sitting, Professor Babbling breezed into the
room from the door connecting her office.  She smiled at everyone like she was
reuniting with old friends, and launched immediately into a lecture.  Everyone
else had their books open, clearly having expected this, and Harry nudged
Hermione and silently asked to share. 
She frowned, one part fond exasperation, one part confusion, and pushed her
book to the middle of their shared table, barely pausing in her scribbling
notes as she listened to the lecture and followed along in the book.
Harry didn’t bother taking notes, knowing that Knowledge was cataloging
everything, but he did try to pay attention and follow as well as he could.  He
was getting much better with his working knowledge of the subject, but Runes
had been only one small piece of his studying in his mindscape these last two
months, and he was three years behind.  Knowledge was ready to answer any
questions he may silently ask, but the delay it took to gather the information
was irritating.  He was going to need to know all of this and more if he
planned on trying his hand at spellcrafting this year.
By the time the class was over, Harry’s brain felt tenderized.  He groaned as
he followed Hermione out of the room and gave a moment to self-pity to
wondering why he’d done this to himself, taking the extra classes.
Then, of course, Logic reasserted itself and all the very good reasons, ranging
from surviving Voldemort to getting a job he actually liked made themselves
known.
“Why didn’t you have your book?” Hermione inquired as they left the classroom.
“Mrs. Weasley,” he couldn’t say the name without sneering, “bought our books
this year, remember?  She didn’t get me Arithmancy or Potions, either.  I
didn’t even think to check them before last night,” and he was irritated
himself for not thinking of it.  Sixteen or not, he was legally an adult now,
which meant it was no one’s responsibility but his own to make sure he was
prepared.  “I sent out an owl order last night, but it’ll take a few days.”
“Oh, dear!  I didn’t even think of that!” Hermione exclaimed, clearly even more
stressed about it than he was.
“Luckily Severus isn’t teaching potions this year,” Harry agreed with a wry
smile.
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again with a blush.
“Were you going to scold me for being so familiar with a professor?” he
couldn’t help but smirk at her.
She scowled in return, and primly replied, “Well, it’ll take a little getting
used to for all of us.  I am very curious to see how Defense goes, though.”
“Well, we’re about to find out,” Harry said with a fatalistic sigh as they
approached the Defense classroom.  He honestly wasn’t sure how this was going
to go.  So far, Severus had done remarkably well treating him properly in
public, but they hadn’t really had all that much time to practice, and their
track record in the classroom was hardly glowing.
The classroom was sparsely populated when they entered, Severus not yet in
attendance.  Hermione, of course, chose the most front and center seats and
Harry didn’t try to argue with her on it as he’d have done previously.  It
would hardly send the message of an amiable marriage if he was hiding in the
back of the room, after all.
The class itself went rather well.  Severus was clearly passionate about it. 
He didn’t sugar coat it, though Harry kind of hoped he was a little more gentle
with the younger students.  Somehow, he rather doubted it considering the
extremely graphic posters on the walls displaying the result of various
horrifying ways to die via Dark Magic.  Hopefully the younger kids wouldn’t be
too traumatized.
When they split up to practice silent casting, Harry and Hermione faced off,
both managing the offensive and defensive sides silently after a few minutes. 
Harry got it first, which wasn’t unusual in Defense, though he honestly didn’t
know if he’d have been able to manage silent casting very well prior to getting
his mindscape figured out.  It seemed to be primarily a matter of concentration
and manipulation of your magic, both of which he now excelled at.  The same
could not have been said for him last year.  His mind had been a mess and he’d
had no real clue how to control his magic at all beyond just practicing a spell
repeatedly until he managed it and then he kept doing it like that.  Now, he
could feel the ebb and flow of the magic within his body as well as that
surrounding him in the castle and his fellow students.  Now, he could
concentrate on the spell he wanted to cast, the effect he wanted to achieve,
and direct a measure of his magic to travel from his magical core, down his
arm, and into his wand, where the focus took up the majority of the work in
forming and propelling the magic into the spell.
Neville, not surprisingly, managed absolutely nothing at all.  Concentrating
was hard enough without being terrified of your teacher.  And, of course,
Severus couldn’t give the kid a break.  He supposed talking to his husband
about it would be pointless, so instead he made a mental note to pull Neville
aside for some pointers when he got the chance.  Once Neville got the hang of
it, Harry was sure he’d be able to reproduce it, even in Severus’ presence.
Severus even managed to avoid provoking Harry.  Mostly, he ignored him,
really.  Harry saw the man watching he and Hermione cast some, but he gave no
indication that their success was impressive.  Still, it was more than Harry
had hoped for.
No, the problem with the class was that mentally comparing Severus’ teaching
methods against all the other Defense professors he’d had in the subject was a
stark reminder of the fact that none of those teachers had come out of this job
unscathed.  The longer he remained in the class, in fact, the more irritated he
became.  By the time the class finally ended, Harry was sick of going around in
circles in his head and more than ready to demand some answers.  He shooed
Hermione out the door without an explanation and waited until the last student
was gone before closing the door and hitting it with a locking and silencing
charm.
When he turned around again, Severus was facing him from across the room, and
clearly ready for something he wouldn’t like.
“Why did you accept this position?” Harry demanded, a little more… well,
demandingly than he’d planned.
Severus sneered in return, “That’s hardly your business-“
“I’m your husband.  It’s my business and you know it,” Harry interrupted
firmly.  “Especially considering that the job is cursed.  Are you out of your
bloody mind?!”
“Twenty points from-!”
“Oh, don’t you dare!” Harry interrupted again.  “I’m not speaking to you as
your student right now, and you’re not going to bring House points into our
marriage!”
Severus seemed to see the merit in that because he actually shut his mouth and
took a bracing breath.  When he spoke again, his tone was measured, if still
irritated.  “I accepted this position before you proposed – well before we were
bonded.  I fail to see why it matters to you.  Should the curse prove fatal to
me, you will, as my husband and lacking heirs, inherit the entire Prince Estate
and titles.”
Harry’s chest felt uncomfortably tight at the idea of Severus dying and an
inarticulate noise of incredulous anger slipped out before he could pull
himself together enough to furiously demand, “Are you bloody mental?!  You
think I give a shit about your estate or titles?”
“Are you suggesting you are actually concerned for my wellbeing?” Severus
looked honestly shocked at the mere idea.
“Of course, I’m concerned, you bloody git!” Harry snapped.  “You don’t-!”  He
cut himself off, his mind flying, trying to make sense of the fact that Severus
honestly thought Harry wouldn’t mourn him if he died.  Whatever he thought of
the man himself, he was already extremely attached to that bond.  It was really
making him a little crazy just thinking about it being gone.  Permanently and
irretrievably.  Did Severus not feel it, or was his occlumency just so advanced
that he was able to ignore a bond in his fucking soul?
“You are not allowed to die; you understand me?” Harry growled, jabbing his
finger at the older man.  “I plan to live through this war, and I don’t plan to
do it as a widower!”  With that, he stormed out of the room, startling the
gaggle of third years waiting in the corridor.  Severus’ next class, no doubt. 
Well, that exit ought to do wonders for the rumor mill.
===============================================================================
Severus moved back into his office as his next class began to cautiously enter
the room.  Stunned would be a vast underestimation of his current mood.  Part
of him wanted to accuse Harry of being dramatic and an idealistic fool for what
he’d said, but a bigger part of him knew that Harry hadn’t been lying or
exaggerating his feelings.  The room had practically trembled with the younger
man’s distressed magic when Severus had suggested that Harry had no reason to
care if Severus died.
He’d been absolutely certain that Harry felt no more warmly toward him than he
did toward Harry, but what had just happened suggested that he’d been
mistaken.  Harry had seemed genuinely frightened of Severus getting killed. 
Genuinely distressed at the possibility.
Honestly, when Harry had deigned to linger after the other pupils, especially
when he’d locked and silenced the door, Severus had been bracing himself for a
rant about treating his friends better or something similarly inane.  An
expression of concern for Severus’ wellbeing was not at all expected.  He truly
wasn’t sure what to make of it.  He would actually be worried that Harry had
been harboring some form of crush on him before their wedding were it not for
the fact that they’d shared emotions for about an hour before Severus had
closed down the link from their bond and he’d felt absolutely nothing to
suggest any such feelings existed.
And yet…
He huffed quietly and shook his head.  Perhaps Harry was more old-fashioned
about the concept of marriage than he’d realized.  Perhaps the young man had
simply reacted more strongly to the bond between them.  Harry was an orphan,
after all, and last year’s occlumency lessons suggested that his home life
hadn’t been ideal.  Perhaps he’d latched onto this marriage as the basis of a
family he’d never had.
The thought of the younger man being so committed to their marriage wasn’t as
disturbing as Severus may have expected.
 
 
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