Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9893693.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Ginny_Weasley, Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Luna
      Lovegood, Neville_Longbottom, Other(s), Remus_Lupin, Ron_Weasley, Severus
      Snape, Albus_Dumbledore, Original_Character, Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Language, Sexual_Content, Action/Adventure, Alternate_Universe,
      Angst, Tragedy, Romance
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-04-17 Completed: 2006-10-27 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 147253
****** The Sleeping Dragon Wakes ******
by AncientzDream [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their son
     than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance,
     the Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's
     betrayal can run. Rating is for language and violence - just to be
     safe. Dark!Independent!Political!Powerful!Harry
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
***** And so it begins... *****

         Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR. I make no money.
               ::parseltongue:: Thoughts ~mental conversations~
It is hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head.
- Sally Kempton
 
Hogwarts_School_of_Witchcraft_and_Magic,_End_of_term_fifth_year
"Why does he want to see us and not Harry?" Ron asked, tone weary. "I just want
to go home and sleep for a week, y'know?"
"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed, and stretched a little as her healed
but aching injury pulled from activity.
"Let's just find out what Professor Dumbledore wants so we can go back to the
common room and rest."
"You're right, of course." Ron paused in front of the stone gargoyle and shook
his head. "Did he give you the password?"
"Smarties," Hermione stated and stepped forward once the guardian had leapt
aside. "For once he didn't make us try to figure it out ourselves. I think he
knows we're all tired."
"Wonder what would've given him that bright idea?"
"Ron! Show some respect, at least." She shook her head and tried not to grin
after chastising her friend. She happened to agree with him.
Albus checked the map on his desk and nodded to himself when he saw the two
students he was expecting. If there was one thing he could count on, it was Ron
Weasley's emotional nature and Hermione Granger's love of rules. They would
play right into his hands. Or so he assumed.
"Come in," he called just as they got to the door.
Pushing the door open, Ron let Hermione precede him into the office, his eyes
taking in the swaying, twirling and bobbling oddities that made him wonder
about the older wizard's sanity. The amount of them that were broken made his
eyes widen in surprise.
"Hullo, Professor."
"Hello, my dear boy, and to you as well, Miss Granger. Have a seat. Tea, Lemon
Drop?"
"Umm, no thank you, Professor," Hermione murmured reflexively. "You wanted to
see us?" She glanced around the office with barely concealed curiosity and
horror. "What happened to your office, Sir?" A blush crept up her cheeks when
she realized she had blurted out the question. "Um, sorry..."
"That's quite alright, Miss Granger. It's a bit difficult to miss, don't you
think? I'll explain shortly. Now, I need to impress upon the both of you how
important it is that you absolutely do not owl Mr. Potter over the summer
holidays." Dumbledore held up a hand to still their protests.
"Given the events only a few weeks past, surely you should know that Voldemort
will be after young Harry more viciously than ever before. The owl post is not
always as secure as we would like to believe and if letters or owls are
intercepted or traced, then Harry's position could be compromised. For his
safety, and that of your own families, please heed my request."
"But...that'll leave him all alone with those awful muggles. And right after
losing..." Ron whispered his protest.
"I will do what I can to move him to Headquarters as soon as possible, but as
you can see from the state of my office, Mr. Potter is experiencing even more
control issues with his temper and I feel that some time alone to think and
sort himself out might be just what he needs." Albus sighed softly, twinkle
carefully subdued.
"Please forward my request to your companions, as well. Now, off to your common
rooms to rest before you pack up."
Hermione took one last look around the office as she stood to leave, and
shuddered to think about how terribly angry Harry must have been to wreak so
much havoc. What had Dumbledore said to set him off?
"Of course, Professor." She nodded and led Ron out, her movements a little
reluctant as she lost herself in her musings. "See you September first."
Ron waited until his best friend became more aware of her surroundings before
voicing his question. Something had really gotten her to thinking.
"You don't really think Harry did all that, do you?"
"If something happened to push him over the edge, then yes," the intelligent
witch murmured. "He had just, and I mean just lost his Godfather and had
another battle with Voldemort." Hermione ignored Ron's wince for the most part.

"Poor Harry is so torn up with blaming himself as usual that he might have done
all that. I'd just like to know what the trigger was." She paused at the
portrait of Fortuna Major.
"Victory," she stated and slipped through into the common room with Ron on her
heels. Finding a private spot in a quiet corner, she sat down and cast a
silencing spell so they could continue to talk. "The last thing he needs right
now is to be alone, even if that's what he's telling himself. You know he'll
try to push us away again, to protect us and all that."
"Well, you're the one who called it his 'saving people thing'," Ron observed.
"If we can't owl him, then how are we going to keep from leaving him alone?"
"I'm not really sure yet. I'm working on another way, but it's a little
difficult since none of us are old enough to do magic over the summer."
Hermione sighed. "I'd say the muggle post, but I'm not sure his relatives would
give him the letters..."
Eyes narrowed, Ron sat back to attack the problem like a chess game, which it
was starting to resemble. He blinked and smacked himself on the forehead.
"We are so daft! We should have thought of this way back in second or third
year!"
"What is it!"
"Who stopped Harry from getting his mail, closed the portal to platform 9 ¾ and
set bludgers after him all to keep him from being hurt by You-Know-Who in
second year? Who would do absolutely ANYTHING to help Harry?"
A big grin graced Hermione's face before her look fell.
"But it's not right to use a house elf like that..."
"So we ask him if he's willing to help us. If he says he can't, then we'll try
something else, okay?"
"Okay..."
"Hey, Dobby!"
A soft 'pop' signalled the arrival of one very hyper and easily excitable house
elf. He bounced a little and smiled, large pale green eyes focused on Ron.
"Yes Mr. Wheezy?"
Hermione sniggered and straightened Dobby's hat affectionately. He still took
and wore everything she knitted and left in the common room.
"Hi, Dobby."
"Hellos to yous toos, Miss Grangers." Dobby's grin widened. "How can I be
helping yous?"
"We need your help with Harry. Shhhh! He's okay! Relax," Ron muttered to calm
the suddenly distraught elf. "Professor Dumbledore won't let us owl Harry this
summer and we're worried about him being all alone."
"Could you help us get letters to Harry? We know how much you love him,"
Hermione stated.
"Dobby is happy to be helping yous help Harry Potter. Dobby will help Harry
Potter to the day hims die," he declared vehemently, then stilled as he sensed
the approach of said young wizard and collapsed their silencing spell.
"Harry Potter, sir! Yous did not eat today," Dobby scolded gently. "Dobby is
getting yous some dinner now."
Harry wandered over to see what Ron, Hermione and Dobby were talking about and
smiled at the house elf's immediately protective statement. He almost protested
until he saw the hopeful look on Dobby and Hermione's faces.
"Thank you, Dobby. Why don't you bring something for all three of us, if it's
not too much trouble?"
Dobby simply nodded and vanished with another soft 'pop'.
Ron took in how sad and broken his best friend looked and fought the urge to
hug him like his mom always did when someone was upset.
"You don't need to be alone right now, mate. Being alone when people you love
die is the worst place to be."
"So everyone tells me," Harry mused. "But why shouldn't I be alone? I have the
best friends in the whole world and I did a bloody good job of nearly getting
all of you hurt or killed by falling for a stupid..."
"We went willingly, Harry James Potter! You didn't force us to do anything.
You're not the first person to be fooled by Voldemort and you won't be the
last," Hermione ranted.
"So get it out of your head that everyone that Voldemort kills is your fault!
It's not your fault. And don't even think of pushing us all away to protect us.
You will not be alone this summer."
"Thank you," Harry whispered. "Really, I needed to hear that, but I just got
back from talking to Dumbledore..."
"And he told you no owls, right?" Ron growled. "It's just bloody stupid, mate.
'Mione and me, our families, we were all in danger before we met you, and all
because of who we are. We'll come up with something."
"Yeah, well, he said he'd try to have me out at least for my birthday, but I'm
not gonna hold my breath or anything," Harry commented despondently. "I hate
going to live with those...muggles."
Dobby delivered the requested meals and hung around to watch the Golden Trio
interact until Harry finally ghosted off to bed.
"Yous will be okay, Harry Potter. Dobby will help you," he vowed and a flash of
magic sealed it. He nodded to Ron and Hermione. "Hims is the greatest wizard of
the Age. Dobby will helps you help him."
"Thank you so much, Dobby." Hermione hugged the small creature gently and
wandered off to her own bed.
"You're the best, Dobby. Come see me tomorrow evening, okay? That way he'll get
letters his first day home and he'll know we're serious."
 
Hogwart's_Express
Discounting the rather amusing fracas between a handful of DA members and
Malfoy and his two goons, the ride home on the train was the usual blur of
snacks, conversation and games until it came time to gather their things and
disembark.
All Harry wanted to do was wait until everyone left and ride the train back to
Hogwarts. Maybe then he'd have a good summer. He snorted derisively. Most
likely not, considering the fact that Snape lived at the castle year round.
Despite his reluctance, he took up Hedwig's cage and dragged his trunk from the
train.
Stepping through the gateway between platforms nine and ten, Harry found a
surprise waiting for him on the other side. Scarred and sinister Mad-Eye Moody
stood waiting with his staff in hand. Hot pink hair gave away Tonk's presence
as she urged a pale and greying Remus Lupin up to where he, too, was clearly
visible to Harry. At the very front stood Molly and Arthur in their best
impression of muggle clothing and Fred and George in what appeared to be neon
green dragonhide.
"Ron, Ginny!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children
tightly. "Harry dear - how are you?"
"I'm fine," lied Harry, as he submitted himself to her tight embrace. Over her
shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins' new clothes.
"What are they supposed to be?" he asked, pointing at the jackets.
"Finest dragonhide, little bro'," said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak.
"Business is booming and we have an image to maintain."
"Hello, Harry," murmured Lupin when Mrs Weasley finally let go of Harry and
turned to greet Hermione.
"Professor," said Harry. "I didn't expect . . . why are all of you here?"
"Well," said Lupin with a conspiratorial smile, "we thought we might have a
little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home." He
studied the boy in front of him and was painfully disturbed by the dark
emotions and rage he saw swirling behind his Cub's avada kedavra green eyes.
"I dunno if that's a good idea," said Harry at once. "It's not like anyone pays
attention to what they do to me, anyway and you know how they are about being
bothered by 'Freaks'."
"Oh, I think it's a wonderful idea," growled Moody, who had limped a little
closer. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?" He nodded over his shoulder to
indicate the trio of muggles.
Harry peered over the retired auror's shoulder and growled under his breath
when he caught sight of the Dursleys, who looked equal parts appalled and
terrified by Harry's reception committee. Hanging back to watch the 'show', he
felt a deep hatred well up in his chest and was unaware of just how utterly
frightening his appearance was at that moment.
"Good afternoon," said Mr Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a
halt right in front of him. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."
Remembering how this red-haired freak had almost single-handedly destroyed his
living room a few years prior, Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared
viciously at the gathered wizards. He ignored Petunia's embarrassed and
frightened discomfort and Dudley's attempts at invisibility and drew himself up
stiffly.
"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," said Mr Weasley,
still smiling.
"Yeah," growled Moody. "About how he's treated when he's at your place. About
what that young man has been through over the last couple of years. About how
dangerous it could be for you and yours to push him too far."
Uncle Vernon's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Perhaps the bowler
hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a
kindred spirit, so he addressed himself to Moody.
"I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house!"
"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley. Look at
him, you idiot muggle! Look at that young man and don't even try to tell me he
doesn't scare you," growled Moody.
"It would be in your best interests to leave him alone if you want to have a
nice quiet, normal summer."
"That really isn't the point," interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to
offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her
eyes rather than look at her. "The point is, if we find out you've been
horrible to Harry ..."
"And make no mistake, we'll hear about it," added Lupin pleasantly.
"Yes," said Mr Weasley, "even if you won't let Harry use the felly-tone..."
"Telephone"' hissed Hermione.
"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have
us to answer to after he gets done with you," stated the grizzled ex-auror.
Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even
his fear of this bunch of oddballs.
"Are you threatening me, sir?" he said, so loudly that passers-by actually
turned to stare.
"If it will get your damned attention, then yes, I am, but in actuality, no. If
that boy doesn't live with you during the Summer until he is seventeen years
old, then the wards on your house that protect you, your family and Harry will
fail," said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather hopeful that Uncle Vernon would grasp
this fact quickly.
"And if those wards fail, then the evil bastards who want him dead will come
knocking on your door and they won't leave any of you alive. Do you understand
me, Dursley?"
"Do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated? Who can be intimidated
by that scrap of a freakish boy?" barked Uncle Vernon. He turned to glower at
the afore mentioned teen and went white as a sheet as glowing, icy cold green
eyes glared at him with more hate than he had ever seen directed at anyone in
his life.
"Well . . ." said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly
revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and collided
painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."
He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry, a shudder of discomfort
racking his body when he saw the boy's feral visage. Composing himself, he
resettled his bowler hat.
"So, Potter . . . give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for
three days in a row, we'll send someone along . . ."
Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was
thinking of what the neighbours would say if they caught sight of these people
marching up the garden path.
"Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a
gnarled hand.
"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "Keep in touch."
"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs Weasley
whispered, hugging him again.
"We'll see you as soon as we can, mate," said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's
hand.
"Really soon, Harry," said Hermione earnestly. "We promise."
Harry nodded stiffly, bursts of memories and emotions that made no sense to him
fuelling his chilling demeanour. He couldn't find the words to tell them what
it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled
crookedly, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the
station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley
hurrying along in his wake.
Headmaster's_Office,_Hogwarts_School_of_Witchcraft_and_Wizardry
Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore was not a happy wizard. A
substantial amount of his tracking devices had been permanently damaged and
outright resisted his every effort to repair them. The fact that such a young
wizard's power could defy his own clearly superior and far better trained
magical ability only served to add further fuel his ire.
"Spend your holiday with your family, alone, hungry and isolated and we'll see
if you aren't a bit better mannered when you're 'rescued' a week before school
starts, you little brat."
Pulling out a sheet of parchment, he penned a letter to the Dursleys and
gloated privately to himself over his spark of genius. "Your parents never gave
me this much trouble. I really wonder where you got such a stubborn streak.
Your grandparents, perhaps. James and Lily were such sweet, mouldable
children." A snort from the shelf behind him drew his attention to the worn and
rumpled old Sorting Hat. Arching a bushy grey eyebrow at the magical artefact,
he frowned.
"What are you snorting about, Alistor?"
Disgusted by the arrogance of the school's current headmaster, the Sorting Hat
listened to the man ramble on and filed it all away for future reference. It
was looking more and more like he and the Potter Heir needed to have a heart to
heart discussion.
"What, exactly, do you think to accomplish by abusing the chosen child?"
"I know what I am doing, especially in regards to Mr. Potter. He is our one
weapon against Voldemort and I intend to see him hardened and ready for the
task that awaits him. I have made the mistake of caring too much for him in the
past, and look how he has repaid me. He destroys my belongings..."
"Funny how the main things that broke are devices you set to track his
progress," the Hat interrupted with an amused sound.
"Poor Albus can scarcely tell anything about the boy now." He laughed raucously
when the elderly wizard hissed angrily in his direction.
"These items are but a mere pittance, a pittance I will see taken out of his
hide if I can manage it discretely enough."
"Events have a way of going in the chosen child's favour. Have a care that you
do not under-estimate him as badly as you clearly over-estimate your own
importance in current events."
 
Enroute_to_#4_Privet_Drive_and_The_first_night_Home
The ride home from King's Cross Station was, if possible, more tense and
strained than normal. Harry drifted in between angry, hate-filled lucidity and
a calm, quiet void that reminded him suspiciously of the Imperious curse.
Memories that sickened him warred with love filled recollections of his brief
time with his parents as years old spells fell apart in his mind. A whimper
from the other side of the car drew his attention to Dudley and he took an
inordinate amount of satisfaction from the larger boy's fearful reactions.
"Don't worry ickle Dudderkins. The big bad wizard won't hex you unless you give
me a really good reason," he whispered and returned his attention to vacantly
gazing out the side window. The sheer normality of Little Whinging sickened a
part of him and he wasn't sure why - it had never bothered him this much
before.
Arriving at Number Four Privet Drive, he dragged his things up to the smallest
bedroom and closed the door on the world.
Sitting on his bed later on in the evening of his first night back at number
four Privet Drive, Harry thumbed through his text books and shook his head,
face showing a clear expression of disgust. He could kick himself for not
paying more attention in class, for not working harder on everything in
general. Not only might he have avoided some problems with Voldemort, but he
might also still have Sirius. He really wasn't sure if studying Transfiguration
or Charms any more closely would have made a difference in Cedric's survival,
but he had to consider the possibility. A quiet voice made comment on his train
of thought.
No, being more studious most probably would not have helped Cedric, but
listening to your Slytherin side a bit more might have saved them both.
Harry blinked in surprise. The voice was vaguely familiar and, unfortunately,
made a lot of sense. His 'Slytherin side' as he had always nicknamed it, was
generally less trusting and far more likely to look out for his own best
interests before it took another's needs into account. It was the self-same set
of instincts that had kept him alive so far.
Yeah, my Slytherin side, he mused. So, not only is it my fault for not
listening to 'Mione when she tried to tell me it was a trap...it's my fault for
not listening to myself. Sirius...I'm so sorry...
Oh, get over yourself already. It's no one's fault when another person dies
except those directly involved in the event. You didn't control him anymore
than you could have controlled that insane house elf, Kreacher.
Now Harry was starting to get nervous. Since when did his inner voice answer
him? Since when did it give advice in such a direct manner? Wasn't it Hermione
who had commented that, even in the wizarding world, it was considered very bad
to be hearing voices? He dropped that particular train of thought and made a
concerted effort to get back to his studies. Maybe, just maybe, he could focus
on the books deeply enough to dream of homework instead of everything else that
was likely to plague his nightmares.
A soft 'pop' disturbed him from his reading a few hours later, and to his
surprise, there stood Dobby with a heaping tray of food and what appeared to be
several letters.
"Dobby?"
"Yes, Harry Potter, sir. I haves brought you your favorite dinner and letters
from your family."
Stomach rumbling the instant he smelled good, hot food, Harry stretched and
accepted the proffered tray.
"Thank you, but...why are you here, Dobby? Won't you get into trouble for
leaving Hogwarts or something?"
"I is appreciating yous being worried, Harry Potter, sir, but Dobby is not
bonded to anyone at Hogwarts, so I is going where ever I please." The little
elf smiled. "Your Wheezy and Granger is worried about yous, so they is asking
Dobby to bring you letters and food. Dobby is also taking yous letters to yous
friends. Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter."
Stunned to the point of tears by the display of loyalty and love by all
involved, Harry sniffled quietly and swiped at his face. Taking a deep breath,
he composed himself and gave the elf a brilliantly happy smile.
"So, that's what you three were talking about the other night, huh? This is
brilliant! Thank you, Dobby. If you ever need a place to stay, you are always
welcome with me," he stated, unaware of the implications of his words to the
small elf.
"Do you mind staying for a while, or at least until I read my letters and write
my replies? Or do you need to go soon?"
Speechless, the house elf took a long moment to process what the young wizard
had just said before finally replying. Stuttering a bit, he finally got the
words to come out coherently.
"Dobby...is st-staying until yous replies is ready," he managed. A few minutes
later, he brought up the more personally important subject.
"Is yous meaning it, Harry Potter, sir? Can Dobby stays with you and yous
family?"
Pausing in his eating, Harry replayed what Dobby had just asked and realized
his offer must have had greater significance than originally expected.
"Yes, I did mean it when I said you could stay with me, but what exactly does
that mean to you? I don't want to say the wrong thing, or something."
"If Harry Potter will have him, Dobby is wanting to bond to the Potter family,
to serve you as yous house elf," Dobby explained.
"I thought you liked being free..."
"Dobby is liking being free of my bad Master and is liking working Hogwarts,
but no House elf can be at their best without bonding to a Wizard. Our magic is
strengthened by the bond, so we is better able to help our Masters."
Considering the likelihood that Hermione would kill him the instant she found
out that he had bonded a house elf, then the hopeful - no, eager - look on
Dobby's face, Harry realized he liked the thought of making his friend happy.
After all, Dobby was as much family to him as the rest of his friends.
"I will agree to take you on as my house elf, bonded to the Potter line, so
long as you agree to my conditions."
Dobby nodded quietly, his large eyes nervous.
"Whatever yous is wanting of Dobby, Harry Potter, sir."
"Alright, then. You will not call me Master unless the situation is one that
requires it. You will be paid ten galleons a week, to do with as you please and
you will wear whatever clothes you wish. Once I have a house, I may come up
with a uniform, but I haven't thought too clearly about that." Harry grinned.
"And lastly, my giving you clothes to wear is not a sign of freedom. You and I
must agree to you being freed before it can occur. Do you agree?"
"Oh, yes, Dobby is agreeing, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby bounced around happily
before settling back down near Harry. "Do yous know the bonding spell?"
"No. What do I need to do?"
 
A spike of magic set off detectors at the ministry of magic and in the -
currently empty - office of one Albus Dumbledore. Analysis of the spike by the
Office of Underage Magic concluded that it was a harmless venting of energy
resulting in no noticeable effect and no further action was taken.
 
Dobby shivered as the young wizard's magic reached out and tied itself to him,
the resulting rush of power enough to knock him to his knees. Blinking
euphorically, he giggled and hugged his new Master around the waist. The bond
practically pulsed between them and he was overjoyed by the happy, contented
smile on Harry's face. Taking the chance to get a feel for his Master's magical
signature while he was relaxed and unguarded, Dobby's eyes went even wider than
normal and he stifled a gasp. He waited for the young wizard to open his eyes
before speaking.
"Yous is much more powerful already than my old Master was when you freed me,"
he whispered.
"And soon yous will start to grow up as a wizard, growing into yous full power.
Dobby is making sure yous is eating enough to keep up yous strength."
"What exactly do you mean by 'growing up as a wizard'?" Harry asked, eyes still
aglow with his own giddy reaction to the powerful bonding.
"I don't think I've heard anything about that...unless you mean puberty..."
"Harry Potter is not knowing? This is for yous magic more than yous body. Dobby
will help. Yous needs books to learn as you grow in power," the elf stated
seriously.
"If I send you to Gringotts, can you get money out of my vault?"
"Do you haves yous key?"
"I think Molly Weasley has it. I can write her a note so she'll hand it over,"
Harry mused. "Just in case Dumbledore has it, I'll write a separate letter for
Gringotts so they know to make me a new key or to retrieve the old one." He
sighed.
"But we can do it in the morning. It's too late to bother Molly tonight. I'll
finish eating and read my letters so the replies are ready tomorrow."
Dobby nodded and smiled.
"Just make Dobby a list of books you think yous might be wanting and Dobby will
gets you what else you needs too."
Harry pulled a roll of parchment over next to him along with his quill and ink,
then opened up his letters and started to read. Alternately smiling, laughing
and feeling outright depressed, Harry wondered when he'd ever get off this
rollercoaster ride he called his emotions. Ever since Cedric's death a little
over a year ago, he would wobble between enjoying life and feeling flat out
ready to beg for mercy in the form of a well aimed Avada Kedavra, and Sirius'
death had only made it worse.
Surprised by the letters from Luna, Neville and Remus, he settled in to answer
as best he could. If there was one thing he knew his friends would not allow
him to get away with, it was his usual evasive 'I'm fine', and that knowledge
filled him with a deeper sense of family than he had felt for most of his life.
With his letters folded and addressed to the appropriate recipient, Harry began
a list of book subjects he wanted Dobby to find for him.
 
Please look for books on the following subjects. Thank you.
Occulemency Legilimency Defence Against the Dark Arts
Wizarding Law Wandless Magic Wand Making
And anything you know for certain a young wizard would have learned from his
parents or tutors before going to Hogwarts.
 
Looking over everything one last time, he decided that he might as well go to
bed. It was after midnight already and Dobby would be back in the morning to
take his letters and to bring him his breakfast.
Changing into his sleep pants, he crawled into bed and sighed. It had turned
out to be a far better day than he had hoped and that good feeling carried over
into his hope for the coming months. Sleep dragged him under and he immediately
recognized that he was in a dream.
 
"No, not again," Harry breathed as he once again materialized into a dream of
the events that led up to and immediately followed his Godfather's death.
Standing near the security desk, he was shocked when another version of himself
led his five companions towards the lifts after throwing a concerned and very
suspicious look at the unattended desk. Drawn to follow as if in a Pensive
Memory, the young man observed as an outsider and his blood ran cold.
He watched himself trying in vain to send the youngest pair away to safety, and
his attempts to protect them all...all in vain. Their loyalty and stubbornness
rivalled his own, it would seem.
The plain black door he'd dreamed of for months appeared before them and he
groaned. "No guys..."
"Let's go."
Luna looking around with open mouthed awe...Ginny, Ron and Neville's defiant
loyalty...the round room of doors...and then...
"'This is it!" he cried.
He would never be able to forget the dancing, diamond-sparkling light that
filled the room behind the door that led to the prophecies.
"This way!"
They made their cautious way to row ninety-seven, hearts pumping furiously in
the silence. Sirius was no where to be seen...and then the Death eaters came...
Black shapes emerged out of thin air all around them, blocking their obvious
routes of escape; familiar eyes glinted at them though eye slits in white masks
and a dozen wands were pointing directly at their hearts.
The scene abruptly shifted to the Veil room and Harry moaned softly even as he
was forced to observe the events as they played out before him in stark detail.
He saw the fighting, the way Bellatrix taunted and tortured Neville and
himself, then the arrival of Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley. They had
come in time to be of some help...but in a detached sort of way, he wondered
where Dumbledore was. Why wasn't he down here helping them fight, helping them
protect the prophecy?
"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!" Sirius yelled, dashing to
meet Bellatrix.
"Harry, round up the others and GO!"
"Dubbledore!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transformed by relief,
staring over Harry's shoulder.
"What?"
"DUBBLEDORE!"
Watching himself turn to look where Neville was staring, he saw what held the
other boy's rapt attention. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the
Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious.
He remembered feeling a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of
his body, then the jubilant thought - He came to save us!
Harry shook his head. Something wasn't right about this feeling that flared
when they saw Dumbledore finally coming to the rescue...it felt
too...convenient...Why did he feel an almost worshipful trust when he looked at
Dumbledore at that moment? All he felt now was a deep sense of betrayal that he
couldn't explain any better than the previous sense of unconditional trust.
Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry
saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her.
Why were you laughing, Sirius? Why did you have to taunt her and play her game
instead of finishing it and taunting the corpse...it would have been so much
better for all of us if you had...Then I wouldn't have had to watch the
needless death of the only father figure I've ever known...
The second jet of red light hit Sirius squarely on the chest. The laughter had
not quite died from his face as his eyes widened with shock. It seemed to take
Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards
through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. There was a look of mingled fear
and surprise on Sirius' wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the
ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment
as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.
"Sirius," Harry breathed, chest aching with the pain of seeing this again and
the even more painful knowledge that Sirius' arrogance had contributed somewhat
to his own demise.
As much as he wanted to take full responsibility for the older man's death, he
realized he couldn't. There were many to blame for that fateful event, and if
he were to be honest with himself, Dumbledore had kept him as strictly
imprisoned at Grimmauld Place as any of the guards at Azkaban. That in and of
itself would have contributed to Sirius' rebellion.
He heard a loud noise from behind the dais that signalled Bellatrix's flight
from the veil room and was jerked along after his dream self until they once
again stood in the atrium of the ministry of magic.
"Come out, come out, little Harry!" Bellatrix called in her mocking baby voice.

Harry growled at the scene that was playing out before him. He smirked in a
self-depreciating way when he saw Bellatrix go down under his weak and
ineffective Crucio, his first Unforgivable curse. He knew deep down that he
could do much better, and would very likely do so if he ever faced her again.
"Potter, I'm going to give you one chance!" shouted Bellatrix. "Give me the
prophecy - roll it out towards me now - and I may spare your life!"
"Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!" Harry roared and,
as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead; his scar was on fire again,
and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage. "And
he knows!" crowed Harry, with a laugh mad enough to match Bellatrix's own.
"Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone, too! He's not going to be happy
with you, is he?"
Harry felt no pain from his position as an observer and wondered about it for a
long moment as he focused on his arch-nemesis, who was currently looking down
his wand at Dream-Harry.
Then Dumbledore appeared and the hate the two wizards felt for each other was
almost tangible, a living thing that hissed and screamed between the two
rivals.
Watching the two veteran duellists was a thing of fierce beauty for Harry as
spells of every colour were sent racing back and forth, the blazing pace such
that he could barely follow what they were casting when he actually recognized
the spells. He memorized every wand movement and wandless gesture, every
sizzling trail of spell energy, every insult and scene of destruction.
The moment Voldemort vanished, Harry's point of view shifted to what was going
on inside his own head during his brief possession by Voldemort.
Looking around, he admired the dark serenity of the Chamber he found himself
in. The walls were a deep Slytherin green and the accents were in silver and a
complimentary shade of blue, the sparse furnishing richly made from dark woods
and heavy fabrics. He focused on a mess of discoloured areas on the walls and
floor, then noted some other things that disturbed him in ways he couldn't
rightly explain.
"What are all of these strange patches and chains...what is this mess on the
floor?" He wondered, thoughts becoming more confused and disjointed the closer
he got to the worst concentrations of discolouration. It was at that moment
that he heard a chuckle that focused him on a young looking Tom Riddle and he
froze uncertainly.
::Tom. What's going on?:: he hissed demandingly.
::Given the chance, you really are quite the observant young man, Harry. You
were able to see it all through mostly unclouded eyes and I truly did not
expect you to get it on the first try,:: Voldemort mused and gave Harry a
slight nod of respect.
::These oddly discoloured places on the walls are a representation of spells
that have been cast on your mind, your metaphysical home. These are spells
designed to cover up things someone doesn't want you to know, like a bad paint
job, I suppose. They're designed to keep you from thinking for yourself, acting
on your own desires. They keep you from being who you were born to be.::
::Oh, and what would that be, hmmm, Tom? What do you think I was born to be?::
::I don't have to think, Harry. I know that you were born to be one of the most
powerful wizards our world has ever known. I know it, else I would never have
marked you as my equal. Dumbledore knows it, and that's why he has kept you
from knowing who you are and what you can truly become. Even your little band
of friends can feel it. Why else would they follow you into the unknown with
such blind trust?::
Voldemort shook his head and chuckled quietly.
::Deep down, I think you know it, too. I doubt that your power will be leashed
for much longer. Work hard to break free, my young Serpent. I am so looking
forward to facing you when we are truly on equal footing. Until then, sleep
well...::
Harry felt a jolt as if he had been falling from a great height and his feet
had suddenly hit solid ground, waking him abruptly.
 
***** Dreams, Werewolves and bretrayals, oh my! *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run.
Will contain het/slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================

         Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR. I make no money.
       ~ Parseltongue ~ Thoughts:: mental conversations :: Letters, etc.
July_2nd,_#4_Privet_Drive
Harry felt a jolt as if he had been falling from a great height and his feet
had suddenly hit solid ground, waking him abruptly. Fumbling for his glasses,
he rubbed at his scar reflexively and was pleasantly and warily surprised to
find that it only ached a little instead of burning with pain like he would
have expected from an encounter with Voldemort.
"Half past three...this is ridiculous," he muttered and shuffled over to his
rickety desk to pen a quick note to Hermione about his dream. It was odd enough
to think that Voldemort might have actually given him some useful information.
An attempt to understand the infinite number of reasons why the Dark Lord might
have done so was giving him a headache, so he decided it might be best to
ignore that line of thought until such time as it became an issue. Placing the
letter with the pile he had left on his desk for Dobby to deliver the next
morning, he went back to his bed, thoughts calmer now that he had arranged to
discuss the dream with someone.
"Maybe this time I'll actually get some sleep..."
July_2nd,_The_Burrow
Hermione opened her letters from Harry with a pleased smile. The first was
simply an expression of appreciation for her letter, and a promise to write
more often. She hadn't expected any more than that - it was only the first full
day of vacation, after all. Opening the second letter, she paled a little and
continued reading, a glimmer of excitement growing to fill her gaze as the
thrill of a puzzle fuelled her enthusiasm.
'Mione,
I had the strangest dream last night. I don't think it had anything to do with
a plan or an attack. If it did, I can't figure out how. It was about the
ministry, but I felt like I was watching it in a Pensive. It was strange to be
dragged along, watching myself yet held apart from feeling any of the emotions
that I know I were choking me to death by the time the fighting really got
started. Once it got to where Voldemort possessed me in the atrium, I was in a
room alone with him.
It was such a beautiful place, 'Mione. I would show it to you if I could. The
walls were dark green and blue stone and all of the trim stuff was silver. It
would have been perfect if it weren't for all the discoloured patches on the
walls and windows and the chains on the doors. Only one door was open a little,
and I think that's the one that leads to Voldemort. I really think this room is
in my head.
Voldemort told me that those patches and chains were spells to hide memories
and suppressors on my abilities. The beautiful pool of light in the floor drew
me...I just wanted to sink into it and relax for once, but I couldn't because
too much of it was bricked over. The opening was too small.
 Dobby is going to pick up some books for me, so I'll be looking into the
subject myself, but I would really appreciate your help with this. Could you
talk to the rest of the group about looking into this as well? I am curious if
Voldemort told me the truth, or if this is just another elaborate trick. If he
is telling me the truth, then I'll worry about what that means when it becomes
an issue. I figure, between the six of us, we might dig up some ideas on this,
and maybe even get some ideas for the DA, too.
Send Dobby if you have questions or need me for something. Happy Hunting.
Harry
Reading the letter through twice more, Hermione shook her head and chewed on
her lower lip while she considered her plan of action.
"Oh, Harry, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Making plans for a visit
to Flourish & Botts and possibly even the wizarding library in London, she
contemplated how to convince Mrs. Weasley to allow a trip to Diagon Alley.
"Is the room actually in his head or is it a figment created by Voldemort?
Ron!!"
"What?! I'm right here!"
"Oh, I thought you were upstairs. When do you go to the Healer again?"
Amused by his friend's distracted air and knowing it could only mean she was
working on a problem, Ron grinned tolerantly.
"Tomorrow. Why?"
"Read this. I need you to ask your Mind Healer about the room and stuff so we
can find out if it's normal for wizards to have a room like that in their
heads, or if this is just another slimy trick of Voldemort's."
Scanning through, Ron frowned and re-read it to make sure he had the gist of
it. He shuddered at the mention of the door that led to Voldemort's mind. That
bothered him more than the idea of talking to the Dark Lord.
"Bloody Hell, Hermione! Snake face just won't ease up on Harry, will he."
Sighing his exasperation, he nodded agreeably. "I'm sorry you're missing the
trip to Greece with your Parents, but I'm sure glad they let you spend the
summer here with us. When things like this happen to Harry, you're usually the
one to figure out what's causing it."
Hermione blushed lightly and shrugged as if to say it wasn't anything
important.
"I just told Mom and Dad the truth. I'm 16 and I want to enjoy a summer with my
friends. Telling them about how badly off Harry was, what with losing Sirius
and all, just softened them up about it even more. So, you'll talk to your
Healer for me?"
"Yeah, I'll ask Healer Monroe, make him feel useful for once, I guess. He still
can't figure out what exactly that brain thingy was trying to do." The ginger-
haired boy shivered.
"Is it always the same imagery, or does it change?"
Stroking the scars on one of Ron's forearms, Hermione couldn't help but admire
the scroll and knot work-like patterns the creature's tentacles had left
behind. The shiny pink scars were slowly darkening to a café au lait shade of
brown, and the beauty of their appearance belied the agony that Ron had
suffered while wrapped up in the creatures grip.
"Oh, no...what I see changes often. It's like a chess game and knowing so many
moves ahead, but this isn't chess. These things, they don't perceive things
like we do; they see infinite possibilities branching from every choice. Thank
Merlin what that thing shoved in my head isn't like that, not exactly. It's bad
enough, though. My head still hurts so bad sometimes, when there's too many
options and it's like my head can't hold them all..." Ron shuddered and rubbed
his arms vigorously. "Um, try talking to Bill and Charlie about the room
thingy, maybe Neville, too. His Gran may have told him some old pureblood
traditions or history that Dad wouldn't have shared with us younger kids. Hell,
try Luna. I never know what's going on in her head."
"Thanks, Ron." Hugging her friend fiercely, Hermione smiled and kissed him on
the cheek just to see him blush. "I'll send them a copy with Dobby. Tomorrow
I'll try to get out to Diagon Alley so I can look for any books that might be
helpful. Maybe Bill or Charlie will go with me..."
"Have fun." Ron grinned despite his red ears and pink cheeks. "Better you than
me."
July_2nd,_Meeting_of_the_Werewolf_Tribes,_A_remote_area_in_Ireland,_3rd_day_of
the_Full_Moon
Opening the door to the small cabin he was staying in, Remus looked around the
vicinity immediately outside and growled under his breath. His amber eyes took
in the movements of his fellow werewolves with an air of critical assessment
until they landed on an older, grizzled man dressed in navy blue robes. Smiling
warmly, he straightened his own richly made dark blue robes and strode out to
meet the other man.
"Gregor, how are you this evening?"
"No worse for wear, Remus. You look angry at the world today. What's wrong?"
Pale blue eyes studied the man who walked so proudly at his side and saw a
tiredness that did not stem from the previous night's transformation.
"Dumbledore," Remus growled. He walked at the older werewolf's side, jaw set in
a clear expression of disgust and more than a little sadness. "I received an
owl from him just after dawn."
"Did he have any success with the new legislation?"
"No." Looking down at the Head of the werewolf Council, Remus shook his head.
"Why does he keep sending me out here, Gregor? I tire of the charade I am
forced to play to keep my fellow wizards from fearing me."
"It allows you to have Dumbledore's ear, does it not, Brother? He carries your
suggestions for legislation before the Wizgamot, does he not?" The blue eyed
werewolf sighed. "You are one of the strongest voices on the Council and one of
the most socially connected; it is not well for you to be so disheartened about
our chances." Entering the clearing that had been set aside for the use of the
Council, Gregor gestured for Remus to take a seat across from him, and then
seated himself, steepled fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"Are you truly that disillusioned by recent events?"
Settling himself with an almost regal grace, Remus wrapped his robes around
himself and sighed expansively. His amber eyes searched his elder's while he
formulated a reply. This was not an easy topic for him anymore, not with the
way his Wolf argued with his human side over things he had always taken for
granted.
"Disillusioned," he mused, a growl rumbling in his chest once more. "Albus
keeps sending me out into the wilds in a desperate bid for the support of the
wizarding werewolves. For all his wisdom, he has never actually looked at our
society and realized that we are far more than a few straggling packs and
aimless loners. Like most wizards, it never occurs to him that there may be
other werewolves beyond the paltry numbers the Ministry is aware of - they
ignore our muggle brothers and sisters and that is a major advantage for our
tribes. Once we transform, there is no magic...we are all mostly equal when
there is only teeth and claws and muscle and instinct to define us." He threw a
feral smile at his companion.
"Remus..." Gregor growled quietly, eyes full of laughter. "You're on that soap
box again."
"Bear with me, Gregor. There is a point to my rambling. I promise."
Straightening his robes, Remus shifted to throw one leg over the arm of his
chair in a pose of decadent relaxation.
"Every new restrictive law is met with weak, limp-wristed attempts to improve
our living conditions on the Isle. I have not had the opportunity to review
Albus' voting history, but I know in my gut he is not using his prestige to
gain votes in our favour. If I am correct, then every piece of legislation is
doomed to die on the Wizgamot floor before it even comes to a vote. If I am
correct, then he is playing us for fools." He snarled almost silently, his
inner Wolf demanding justice for what IT knew to be nothing more than lies and
platitudes doled out by a condescending and manipulative old man. Despite his
intense, deeply entrenched desire to believe otherwise, Remus found himself
less and less inclined to trust Dumbledore's word.
"I should bite him some full moon...see how well he manages without
Wolfsbane..."
Eyes wide, shoulders shaking with laughter, Gregor snorted his amusement before
giving it full reign, his belly laughs drawing curious gazes from the other
Council members and their attendant pack members.
"Such violence, brother-wolf. One could easily forget your mild, bookish nature
if you keep making statements like that."
"I'm not so sure that that would be a bad thing anymore..."
Head cocked to one side, curiosity evident in his wolfishly toothy grin, Gregor
gestured for Remus to speak his mind. He was not to be disappointed, though the
arrival of the rest of the Council did delay the gratification of his request.
"Are you encouraging him again, Gregor? I would have thought you'd give up
trying to corrupt him from his oh so trusting ways by now." A small, petite
young woman with dark hair and pale skin wandered into the circle and took a
seat near the two men. "Though I surely never would have expected to hear the
esteemed Remus Lupin speaking ill of the Great Lord of the Light. Threatening
to bite someone with malicious intent, hmm? Why Remus, I'm delighted with your
progress!" She laughed, her delight ringing through the clearing like crystal
bell tones.
"Oh, come now, Sophie," Gregor chastised playfully. "Be polite to your Brother.
You two are the youngest on this Council, and youth makes for strong, often
fickle opinions. You are a perfect example of just how fickle."
Sniggering as the Celtic woman frowned petulantly, Remus settled even more
deeply into his deceptively lazy, boneless sprawl.
"Indeed, Sister. Have you ever made up your mind about anything other than what
to hunt?"
"Why you insolent cub! How dare you!" Sophie huffed, sapphire blue eyes
darkening towards black as her irritation spiked towards anger. "You can be a
real bastard sometimes, Remus."
"Sophie...I apologize." Remus gave the woman a sour look, the expression
belying his laid back appearance. "I shouldn't have taken my pique out on you.
I'm just so...angry about the situation back on the Isle..."
"I suppose I can't blame you for that," Sophie admitted grudgingly. "We have it
so much better here in Ireland. Hell, even Germany is better to our People than
Britain could ever dream of being."
Several others took their seats, completing the Council of twelve elders and
pack leaders. Gregor looked to each in turn before opening the floor for news
and informative reporting.
"Does anyone have anything fresh or new to share?"
"The Shadow Spire Tribe of Romania was approached by emissaries of the Dark
Lord not more than a moon ago," a powerfully built, swarthy brunette muttered,
his voice a deep, raspy growl that seemed to vibrate in the air. "They were
also inquiring about any other packs or individuals that might consider joining
their ranks. Wanted vampires, too, the crazy bastards. We ...respectfully
declined the offer and sent the emissaries to visit with The Count."
"The Count?" Remus inquired, one eyebrow arched.
"Yes. The mountain that rises from the lands of my Tribe is home to a very old
vampire. He's known as the Count, but we Wolves, we know him as Vladislaus."
Filing that tidbit of information away for future reference, Remus nodded his
appreciation for the explanation.
"He must be desperate if he's going as far as Romania..."
"I think we all can agree that the mad man is desperate if he's courting the
vampire clans," Gregor muttered. "Has anyone else been openly approached?" A
few reported individual defections and emissaries, but few were ready to make a
decision and had just as bluntly told the wizards to come back with a better
offer.
"Fine. Now, Remus. Back to our previous discussion. I wish to hear your
thoughts on this dark lord and the situation on The Isle."
Remus nodded, his posture shifting to reflect his disquiet and mounting
aggression in regards to the subject matter.
"Dumbledore has failed us yet again. The most recent legislation for safe
houses and readily available Wolfsbane potion has been denied at the highest
levels of the Wizgamot. The British Ministry is tightening its Registration
Acts and all unregistered lycanthropes are being sent to Azkaban to await
processing. Beyond the political arena, or perhaps in the heart of it, this is
what it all boils down to." Remus looked around the circle of gathered Tribe
Leaders and council Elders, his amber eyes flashing passionately.
"The Dark Lord offers us nothing. He will not suffer us to live once we have
won his war with our blood. We are merely tools to be used and discarded. The
Ministry and Dumbledore are each no better than the other. They see our
usefulness in the battle itself, but not our humanity and our right to be a
part of magical society. We need another option besides these hypocritical old
men or vanishing into the forests and muggle cities."
"What of your Cub, The-Boy-Who-Lived?" Sophie met Remus' gaze intently, dark
blue eyes seeking answers. "What says he?"
"Yes, Remus. What is the Chosen Child's stand on the war and more importantly
so, the rights of the Tribes and our magical brethren?" Gregor eyed his amber
eyed companion expectantly.
"I am often kept from his side, so I cannot say immediately." Remus growled
unhappily. "I will have to spend some time with him to acquaint myself with his
current views. Once I find out exactly what his views are, I will return to
speak my answer for the Council. Hopefully I will be able to do so by the next
Moon. He will be 16 then."
"Celebrate your Cub's Coming of Age. It only happens once per lifetime," Gregor
stated. "Come to us with word of the Chosen Child in two moons time. Now, it is
time for the Gathering," Gregor stated and stood. "We go to our Mother Moon's
calling; we dance to no tune but her own silver song."
"It will be as you say, Gregor." Remus turned his face up to the moon with a
soft whine of longing, amber eyes flaring with an eerie light as the pregnant
sphere rose high enough to bathe them in its cool, silver light.
"Now, brothers and sisters...let us shed these human forms and run to our
Mother." Shrugging out of his robes, he howled joyfully as the call of the moon
coaxed the much larger Silver Wolf from the cage of his slender body.
July_3rd,_St._Mungo's,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
Fidgeting a bit, Ron cleared his throat and eyed Healer Monroe through his
hair. He really didn't feel like talking about his experience in the Department
of Mysteries and the nearly prophetic timeline the brain creature had left in
his head, so he figured he might as well do the Gryffindor thing and just jump
in with what he really wanted to discuss.
"Is it, uh, normal to have a room in your head that has a pool of light in the
floor?" He restrained the urge to grin when the Healer's head came up abruptly,
eyes widening with surprise. Yes! He pumped a mental fist in the air. I got him
with that one. About damn time I managed to surprise him, instead of the other
way around. "A room with doors and passages and stuff?"
"That is fairly normal, actually. It requires a good deal of meditative study
for most people to encounter such an occurrence, but once someone manages to
access their magical core on the conscious level, that is the way it is most
commonly described. What is this metaphorical room like for you?"
"Uh, green, blue and silver walls...what does it mean if the pool is bricked up
or something like that?" Ron shifted nervously as he tried to recall the
details of what Harry had written. It wouldn't do to forget something
important. Hermione would kill him.
"That could very likely represent a block placed on your magic," the Healer
replied, sharp gaze taking in his patient's tell tale signs of nervousness.
"How heavily blocked up is it?"
"Too small to climb in...maybe open enough to put a hand in or something," Ron
replied off the top of his head. Harry's written tone had been so mournful on
that point, so it must have been severely blocked.
"Sweet Merlin," Octavius muttered. The average wizard would scarcely be able to
perform even the most basic of magical exercises if they were that heavily
restricted. This did not sound good and he intended to get to the bottom of it.
He could not tolerate the thought of a child being mistreated though deliberate
mismanagement of magical blocks and other less savoury methods of keeping them
malleable.
"Is there anything else...wrong in the room?"
"Um, yeah. There are discoloured patched on the walls and covering doors and
stuff. And some of the doors have chains holding them shut..."
"Windows and other openings like doors tend to lead to memories and gifts,
magical abilities if you will. To have them blocked in such a way makes me
inclined to think of memory and heritage suppression charms."
"Magical gifts?"
"Many magical families, especially the older ones have special things they are
very good at, talents and abilities that are known to belong to that
bloodline."
"Oh, kind of like how my brother Bill can feel wards and curses really easily
and Charlie has a way with dragons?" Ron grinned his delight over this
discovery. "Maybe even my ability at chess?"
"You are particularly gifted at strategy. It may very well be a Gift," Octavius
agreed. "The same applies to your brothers."
"Things like Parseltongue, too, huh?" Ron's eyes widened when Healer Monroe
grinned at him and sat forward with an intently focused expression.
"Damn my mouth..." He grumbled quietly.
"Yes, Parseltongue is a very rare and selective Blood Trait and only one
bloodline is known to manifest it reliably," Octavius murmured. "Since there
are only two currently known Parseltongues, and I sincerely doubt you are
friends with You-Know-Who, I feel it safe to guess that you must be poking
around for Mr. Potter. I understand if you feel that you cannot tell me what
led you to this discovery, but please attempt to get him some assistance if it
is indeed Mr. Potter that has been wronged in this way."
Ron sighed and searched the man's gaze intently, something inside telling him
the best move would be to trust him.
"I can't go into details without getting his permission, Healer Monroe. I just
can't do that to him, but I'll tell you what I can. Harry's bloody amazing at
getting out of scrapes no one else would stand a chance of surviving, so don't
worry so much." Ron shrugged, ears turning pink at the knowing look on the
healer's face. "Someone told him....he was told the patches and chains were to
hide memories, bind his magic and other things like that."
Octavius nodded solemnly.
"Your friend is an amazing wizard if half of what the Prophet and Quibbler have
to say is even remotely based on fact, and I am not referring to the articles
that question his sanity. Now, that list of restrictions and the way you have
described everything sounds consistent with what I know of this kind of magical
residue. I can't figure why someone would want to obliviate him though. It can
be quite damaging to young minds, especially."
"Another friend of mine was Obliviated when he was really young. Is there
anything you can do to help him?"
"How young?"
"Less than a year and a half when it happened," Ron muttered, just the mention
of Neville's problems enough to upset him.
Aware of only one child the boy could be speaking of, the Healer made a
decision and decided to act on it. If he couldn't help the Potter boy, he would
help the Longbottom's son.
"Please feel free to bring your friend with you to one of your sessions. I will
do everything I can to help him." He let out a slow, deep breath.
"Now, if you wish to locate your magical core and begin developing your own
inner control, try meditation. I am not implying that it is easy to do so, but
the meditation would help you with your current ordeal and access to your core
would greatly improve your magical ability."
"Thank you, Healer Monroe. I guess I'll see you Monday, then." Ron rose to
leave.
"You are quite welcome, Mr. Weasley. Now, you are healing, but I'd like to
continue trying to pin down the exact nature of what the creature has done to
your thought processes. Are you amenable to this?"
"Yes, sir. It would help to understand more of what's going on in there."
"Then I will see you next week. Good day, Mr. Weasley." Octavius smiled a
little as the red head left his office. He might not personally be up to
fighting on the front lines, but he would make the most of this opportunity to
aid the ones who clearly would be in the thick of things.
July_3rd,_The_Burrow
"Memory charms? More than one?" Hermione sounded as appalled as the rest of the
'Ministry Crew' looked and looked like she might want to be ill. "Magical
suppression? That's just...that's...evil! Why would someone do that to Harry?"
"More, well, at least equally important, is WHO did this to Harry." Neville
looked around at his friends. "Who is trying to control Harry and why are they
doing it?"
"What if Harry isn't the only one?" Ginny voiced the question that had been
eating at her since she first saw a copy of Harry's letter. She studied her
friends and sibling intently, brown eyes flashing with anger at the thought of
someone invading their minds and lives in such a way.
"Would we even know if we had been Obliviated? Is there a way for us to know?"
"Well, Healer Monroe said it was okay to bring 'my friend' to my next
appointment," stated Ron as he reached out to lightly thump Neville on the back
of the head.
"Seriously Nev, I didn't tell him who I was talking about and he was still mad
as hell that someone would do that to a child. He wants to help and if he can
fix even part of what that spell did, I would be so happy for you."
Blushing lightly under the attention that Ron's statement had focused on him,
Neville sighed.
"I need to try, I guess. We all need to know if our memories have been
altered."
"Have you written to Harry about all of this yet?" asked Luna, her eyes coming
into sharp focus for a moment before softening into her usual dreamy
appearance. "He's going to blow up spectacularly. I really wish I could be
there to see it..."
"Oh yeah, I really wish I could see him blow his top over this one. It would
have to be brilliant!" Ginny giggled wickedly.
"He'll be 16 soon," mused Luna, her comment seeming to come out of the blue.
"Young Harry is going to Awaken."
"Awaken?" Hermione frowned; she wasn't certain she understood what Luna meant.
"Uh, high powered magical maturity," Ron explained. "It's not something that
happens very often."
"Mr. Harry 'I-Just-Want-To-Be-Normal' Potter is going to LOVE that," Neville
drawled in a remarkably good imitation of Draco Malfoy, causing the others to
laugh uproariously. "Gran told me Professor Dumbledore went through an
Awakening and it's safe to guess that You-Know-Who did as well."
"I guess that's another thing I'll have to look into once I can get someone to
take me to Diagon Alley. I really need to do some research and magic keeps
changing the rules..." Hermione sighed and made a note of the afore mentioned
subject. "You really think Harry is as powerful as someone like Professor
Dumbledore?"
"Hmm, let me think," Neville mused quietly. "He cast a fully corporeal Patronus
that was intense enough to drive off 100 dementors at the age of 13. He's faced
and defeated You-Know Who, or at least survived the encounter with minimal
injury, four or five times now. Yeah, I think he's got the potential to blow
every body's socks off."
July_3rd,_#4_Privet_Drive
"Who's on duty today, Dobby?" Harry was currently looking out his window and no
one was in sight so he figured they had to be wearing an invisibility cloak or
using a disillusionment charm. "Being here is driving me crazy. I need to get
out and stretch my legs."
"It's 'Dungus Dirty Man, Master Harry." Dobby muttered to himself, nose
wrinkled at the thought of having the drunken thief any where near his master.
"Hims wouldn't know if yous was dancing on hims head."
Coughing and laughing at the image his little friend's words generated before
his mind's eye, the green eyed wizard groaned.
"You are too right, Dobby. I'm going to see if anyone is even paying attention
these days and test how far I can get before an Order member tries to bring me
back 'because it isn't safe'."
"Dobby can takes you where you wants to go, Master Harry."
"Not this time. I need to know if I can just up and walk out. I'll be taking
the Knight Bus, so I won't be completely exposed to attack and Diagon alley
should be fairly safe as long as I'm careful."
"Yous just be careful and calls for Dobby if yous needs him."
"I will. I promise." Patting his pocket to assure himself that his wand was
safely in place, Harry retrieved his invisibility cloak and wrapped himself in
its silky folds.
"Merlin, I love having this cloak."
Pulling his wand from his pocket, Harry carefully slipped out of the house and
headed for the park. He was torn between being angry over Albus' choice of
guards and elated that having Mundungus around made this jaunt so much easier
to accomplish. Surely, if he was so bloody important, he would warrant a guard
of at least auror quality. He made it a block from the house before the hair on
the back of his neck stood up, prompting him to stick his wand out to summon
the Knight Bus far sooner than he'd planned. The lurid purple bus appeared with
a BANG and he leapt aboard as soon as the doors sprung open.
"Leaky Cauldron. QUICK!" Harry hissed out his request, eyes widening as he saw
the reflected red light of a stunner coming at him in the glass beside the
driver. Ducking down, he felt the crackle of magic as it passed harmlessly over
his head.
"Keep the change." Thrusting two galleons into Stan's hand, he stayed low and
got to a bed as the bus lurched away.
Surprised to see Harry walking under his invisibility cloak even though Albus
had assured him the distraught boy was likely to leave his house in a grieving
fit of rebellion, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a little slow to react. Seeing the
boy getting onto the Knight Bus, he shot off a stunner and cursed at the teens
reflexes. He trusted Albus to know how to handle The-Boy-Who-Lived and
apparated to Hogwarts to find out where the uncooperative child might have
gone.
Noting the presence of an Order member at the gates, Albus made his way down to
the entry hall to meet the tall black Auror.
"What has occurred, Kingsley? Why have you left your post?"
"He did just what you said he would, Albus. He snuck out using that blasted
cloak and took the Knight Bus. I tried to stun him, but he's quick as a snake
when it comes to dodging spells. I don't know his habits well enough to look
for him. Where would he have gone?"
"He has most likely gone to The Burrow or to Diagon Alley, my boy. Go check the
Burrow's wards. They are set to record the magical signature of everyone who
passes through them, so you won't have to upset Molly with the news that Harry
is out wandering on his own. If he has not gone there, then he will be at the
alley. It is not safe for him to be out in public, Kingsley. Use whatever means
necessary to get him home and make sure he stays there. Voldemort will stop at
nothing to capture or kill him." Albus patted the Auror on the shoulder and
twinkled at him in a grandfatherly way.
"He will thank you for your diligence and devotion to his safety once he has
recovered his senses and taken the time to completely grieve for his Godfather.
Now, go get him, Kingsley. There is no time to waste."
Visibly relieved, Kingsley nodded and headed back to the apparition point just
outside the gates of Hogwarts. He hadn't wanted to be the one to admit to Molly
that they had 'lost' Harry Potter.
Fuming at the gall of the boy, Albus stalked back into the castle, blue eyes
icy as he fought to control his temper.
"How dare he disobey me! He knows it's simply not safe for him to be out on his
own." Planning a bit of behavioural readjustment for when he brought the boy to
Grimmauld Place in early August soothed his ire quite nicely.
"He really is overdue an attitude adjustment anyway. He's not playing his
part."
July_3rd,_Back_at_#4_Privet_Drive
Harry woke up on his lumpy excuse for a bed and frowned. When had he gone to
bed? The last he recalled was reading through some of his old textbooks right
after he had arrived, and it was far too early to be the same day, if he was
judging the sun correctly. A light touch on his arm made him leap away with a
sharply startled 'Eeep!', the sound escaping before he could contain it.
Panting, he looked down at Dobby and frowned.
"Dobby? Why are you here?"
"Oh, Master Harry Potter, sir! Dobby was knowing something was wrong but hims
couldn't get to yous. Then yous walked back in the front door without yous
cloak on. Have you lost yous invisibility cloak, Master Harry?"
"Master?" A deeply comforting bond warmed him when he thought this, and he knew
something was wrong with him. Frowning hard, eyes flaring with an eerie green
light, Harry struggled to remember exactly why it felt right for Dobby to call
him 'master'.
"You're my elf? You didn't want to be free any more?"
"Yes Master Harry. Yous bonded with Dobby yesterday. You is making Dobby the
happiest house elf. Is you not remembering more than yous was not remembering
before?"
"More?" The concept of not remembering things sent a fearful twinge through him
and he broke out in a sweat. "You said I left with my cloak, but I didn't have
it when I came back?" Dobby nodded and he dropped down to check under the loose
floor board. His hands found only his photo album and the marauder's map.
Shifting over to his trunk, he rooted through it with almost frantic energy
until he had to accept the conclusion that his cloak wasn't all that was
missing. He patted his pockets to check for his wand and, when he didn't feel
its reassuring warmth, a burst of rage burned through him with frightening
intensity. His head cleared abruptly.
"Where is my wand? It was in my pocket the last I remember..."
"You was taking it with yous, Master Harry." Dobby moaned and started to wring
his ears as his distress became more than he could tolerate without action of
some kind. "Bad wizards is making Master Harry forget again..."
Letting out a howl of unfettered rage, the young wizard felt something new and
fragile shatter inside his mind. Face wet with tears, features twisted into a
snarl, he remembered the attack as he boarded the Knight Bus, remembered
arriving at the Leaky Cauldron and waving at Tom as he made his way towards the
Alley.
"I walked up to tap the bricks and that's it. Who ever tried to stun me earlier
must have gotten me then. They took my cloak and my wand...I didn't have them
when I walked in the house...Who was near the property when I walked back in?"
"No wizards I could sense, Master Harry." Dobby's ears drooped sadly even as
anger filled his own large eyes. "'Dungus Dirty Man was still sleeping in
yard."
"I will find out who did this and I will get even," Harry growled. "This is
going to stop." He focused on Dobby once more. "Have you had a chance to go to
Gringotts or book shopping yet?"
"Yous needed me, so Dobby came home. Dobby can be going for you now if yous
wants."
"Please do, Dobby. I need to figure out exactly what I'm going to do and how
I'm going to manage it without a wand. Dammit, I need a wand and I can't get
one...Dammit, Dumbledore! I hate you!"
July_4th,_The_Burrow
"Okay, guys, Bill was nice enough to take me to Flourish & Botts and I have a
list of spells that affect or alter memory, behaviour or inherited magical
gifts." Unhappiness shone out starkly from the bushy haired witch's eyes. "I
know I couldn't have found everything, even with Bill finding books for me. I
still can't believe it's this long of a list..."
"You let Bill help you?" squawked Ron, eyes widening at the idea that his
brother might report them to Dumbledore. "Hermione! He's an Order member..."
"I told him I was doing an extra credit report for Advanced Charms and that I
had gotten the idea from Professor Moody's demonstrations last year in Defence
Class. He seemed to think it was a good subject since the Ministry needs
talented Obliviators." She shook her head miserably. "It's just horrible to do
something like that to someone who hasn't done anything wrong..."
"It is the nature of humans to control the world around them, including their
fellow man. Why should this surprise you?" Luna asked, eyes clear and curious.
"Because Hermione still believes that people are better than that." Ginny sat
down beside the saddened witch and hugged her affectionately. "It's okay,
'Mione. Keep thinking that way as long as it doesn't blind you to the facts.
Someone has to be the idealist in our crazy bunch and it might as well be you."
Sniffling a little, Hermione nodded and hugged the younger girl back with a
grateful smile.
"Thanks, Ginny. I really needed a hug after looking through all of those
books." She focused on Luna and grinned a little. "I know it shouldn't surprise
me, Luna...it just...it's the fact that so many of these spells are dark or
verging very close on it and someone has been using them on someone I care
about."
"I'm not sure they're working so hot anymore," Neville mused thoughtfully.
"Remember how angry Harry was last year? How oddly he was acting? C'mon, he
fought off the Imperious cast by an Inner Circle Death Eater. I was impressed
when I thought it was just cast by an Auror, but that made it even more
impressive."
"So you think he's fighting the spells, right?" Ron considered that point, then
nodded his agreement. "If you're right about the spells not working as well, it
could mean that whoever cast them assumed they would hold, too. They may not
have done anything to reinforce them. I mean, spells like this would only last
so long before they will eventually need to be...recharged or something,
right?"
Eyeing Ron like he was an amazing new species, Luna hummed her approval.
"It's possible, Ronald. Unfortunately, I don't think an Obliviate wears off."
"Then we all need to go see Healer Monroe, no doubt about it. I'm just worried
that some of these spells may have been used on us, too," Ron stated.
"As much trouble as we all get into with Harry, I'd be shocked if we hadn't all
been Obliviated at least once," Ginny grumbled under her breath.
***** A very long day... *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run.
Will contain het/slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Disclaimer:The Potterverse belongs to JKR. I make no money.
//Parseltongue//
Thoughts
:: mental conversations ::
Letters, etc
 
July_4th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
"Does Master have any other letters for Dobby?"
"No, I think that's everything for now. You have the book list, right?"
"Dobby is having it, Master Harry."
"Okay. Just get those letters out and get to Gringotts. I'd really like to know
what sort of assets I have to work with in
case I need to drop out of sight." Sighing expressively, the young wizard shook
his head as if to clear it. "And I would
really appreciate you getting those books for me."
"Dobby is getting what you require!" Vanishing with a soft 'pop', the little
elf left his master alone to his thoughts.
Chuckling mirthlessly once Dobby was gone, Harry shook his head again and
looked around the small room he was coming to
recognize as being little better than a prison cell in Azkaban.
"Who doesn't trust whom, eh? Who did you talk into doing your dirty work for
you this time?"
Contemplating Dumbledore's latest offence against him with a growing sense of
disgust, Harry let out a shuddery breath,
thinking hazing slightly as grief rushed up through the cracks in ever more
degraded memory charms and old spell work.
"Why'd you have to die, Sirius? I need your help...and because of me, you're
gone..."
Silent tears made glistening tracks over his cheeks and wracking sobs shook his
slender frame.
 
July_4th,_A_remote_area_in_Ireland
 
"I have several stops to make before I return to London for my Cub's birthday,
so I will take my leave, Gregor. Is there
anything in particular the Council wishes me to seek out?"
"Pursue your curiosity regarding Dumbledore's voting history," the elder
lycanthrope suggested. "And cautiously begin feeling
out any other groups who may support our cause, most especially so if the
Chosen Child offers us a fourth side, an
alternative to what we have already been...offered."
Nodding his understanding, Remus sighed and looked up into the rapidly
darkening storm clouds that were gathering above them.
"They are like this war," he mused unhappily. "Those storm clouds came as if
without warning, yet I know they have been
brewing somewhere for quite some time. The conditions had to be just right for
them to develop this way out of a perfectly
peaceful sky. Fifteen years ago, we all believed our peace was assured, that it
would last forever. Hell, even a scarce few
months ago we still lived under that blissful illusion, but here we are,
preparing to weather another war, this one potentially
worse than the last..."
"Nature, the universe itself, abhors a vacuum, Remus. The Dark One's fall left
a void, a surplus of light and not near enough
Darkness to fill it. So now, Nature is working to restore the balance."
"Somehow that worries me more than the Dark One. Nature's ways are rarely
kind."
"She is a harsh Mother," Gregor agreed, thoughts focused on the coming storm.
 
 
July_4th,_Hogwarts_School_of_Witchcraft_and_Wizardry
 
Raising his gaze from the most current edition of his favorite potions journal,
Severus Snape picked up a snifter of Brandy
and gazed into the amber liquid, a slight smile curving his lips. Inhaling the
warmth of the alcohol's scent, he took a drink and savoured it's rich, smooth
flavour. Sighing contentedly, he relaxed further into his seat.
The past week had been as close to idyllic as he dared to hope for himself.
Those dunderheads that people insisted on calling
children were gone and would not be returning until the beginning of September
and Albus was away from the castle for
Wizengamut meetings and other Ministry duties. He had the place mostly to
himself and he liked it that way. Life was good.
"Hell, even the Dark Lord has left me in peace lately," he mused aloud and took
another drink of his brandy. At that moment,
Murphy decided it was time to enact his Law, and a sharp burning pain startled
the Death Eater turned spy. Dropping the glass
from his hand, Severus clutched at his left forearm and cursed viciously.
Stalking to the cloak closet, he snatched out a
rather distinctive set of robes and checked the inner pocket to make sure his
mask was in its place. Assured of its presence,
he made haste for the Apparition point just outside Hogwart's gates.
 
 
July_4th,_Courtroom_#_1,_Ministry_of_Magic
 
Watching over the Wizengamut Chamber from his place on high, the Chief Warlock
and Supreme Mugwump made careful note of forming alliances and burgeoning
conflicts, twinkling blue eyes missing nothing he considered important. Nodding
and twinkling at the titled gentry around him, lulling them all with his
grandfatherly appearance, he played the political game like the gifted chess
master that he was.
New pieces of legislation were introduced for preliminary review, but he paid
the speakers little mind. He would receive a
copy of the transcript once the session was over and would review it at his
leisure once he returned to Hogwarts that
evening. He perked up when the Potter proxy came forward to propose a bit of
legislation he had suggested and nurtured.
"Greetings, m'lords," the soft spoken wizard began, gaze flicking briefly to
Dumbledore before he resumed his introduction.
"I have new legislation to introduce for consideration. Law 2460, articles one
through six, sections all, relates to the
early emancipation of minor wizards under the ancient laws, or more
specifically it moves to prevent such actions. The
intention behind this law is to protect our children and our future from the
rash actions of irresponsible youth. We were all
young once, m'lords, and we knew everything at the time. Now that we are all
more seasoned, we know that we knew nothing of
what we needed to properly make our way in the world before we were of age."
"What are the age restrictions?" One Lord questioned.
"Seventeen will still be acknowledged as the proper coming of age in our world,
m'lord, but the clauses that allowed for
early emancipation are being circumvented, allowing for proper maturity before
a young Lord or Lady takes on the reins of
family duty."
"Are there to be no exceptions to this ruling?"
"In the very rare instance that an heir of a terminating line of inheritance
has capably completed their O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. with no less than an
Acceptable on all attempted tests is one such exception that the Ministry would
be willing to
acknowledge, Baron Nott."
"Only an Acceptable? Shouldn't we at least expect an Exceeds Expectations from
the best and brightest of our upcoming young
Lords and Ladies?" Albus' tone was full of gentle reproach and it had the
desired effect. Though several members of the
Wizengamut squirmed uncomfortably, the motion was seconded and the law was set
for consideration and would be voted upon
during the August session.
A proper education is important, after all, he noted to himself in a smug tone.
And this covers several bases in
regards to a certain muggle born wizard I know.
 
July_4th,_Unplottable_Location
 
Voldemort contemplated his reflection in the mirror and shook his head with a
sound of disgust.
"This is unacceptable, this state I have reduced myself to."
He looked down at Nagini when she rubbed her coils against his calf with the
sinuous grace only a snake could manage without
undue effort.
//Hello, Nagini, my darling. Have you anything to report?//
//Your servants are restless. They are uncertain of your recent moods, more so
than usual,// the large cobra hissed in reply.
//I am pleased by the return of your mind, nestling. You have been strange
these last few weeks...//
//It's been far too long since my thoughts were this clear,// the Dark Lord
admitted to the only confidante he had. //I lost
myself and I still don't know why it took so long to come back.//
//The other Speaker hurt you,// Nagini hissed angrily. //Let me hurt him back
for you, nestling.//
//No, not yet, my darling,// Voldemort mused. //We are tightly bound, he and I.
As he is, his strength is no match for mine,
but as he grows stronger, I grow stronger. Let my little Serpent enjoy his time
of calm before the storm.//
//If you wish it,// the snake agreed grudgingly and glided over to the hearth.
//But I do not like this bond you have with
the other Speaker. He is not your nest mate or hatchling...he is an egg-
breaker...//
Straightening his dressing robe and belting it more securely, Voldemort walked
over and sat down in his favorite chair by the
fire, hands stroking the warmed scales of is familiar once she had slithered up
to coil on his lap.
//I will kill my little Serpent when the time is right, my darling. Do not
worry yourself about him. He doesn't have what it takes to break up my nest.//
The part of Voldemort that was still very much Tom Riddle, the part that was
drawing him ever closer to sanity, was uneasy
with that statement and remembered the pain of being ripped from his body when
his Avada Kedavra rebounded off of an
insignificant toddler and more recently recalled the terror of seeing the soul
bond that was twined so thickly between
himself and 'his little Serpent'. What if your nest is already broken? he mused
to himself. What if you simply
can't see it yet? The young Serpent is freeing himself from the Old Man's
bondage...when he does, can you predict which way
he will choose to strike?
The Dark Lord shook off the unwanted train of thought and returned to stroking
Nagini in an attempt to calm himself.
//I have not spent as much time with you as I should.//
//You are forgiven for being busy, nestling.// Nagini relaxed into the warmth
of the fire and the pleasure of her Master's
touch for several minutes before speaking again. //What has you so out of sorts
today? It is something else.//
//It is this thing I have turned myself into. I can barely stand to look at
myself. Admittedly, I have little trouble cowing
even the bravest of my Death Eaters with this face, but I would have my true
appearance restored.//
//So command the one who dwells in the cave of bubbling pots. Can he not make
you whole?//
Chuckling a bit over Nagini's fairly accurate description of the potions lab,
Voldemort contemplated the suggestion, and then
smirked.
//It is a possibility and if anyone can brew the potions I require, it would be
Severus Snape.// Lifting his still coiled
familiar, he stood and placed her on the hearth rug with gentle care. //Enjoy
the heat, my darling. I have things to attend
to.//
//Of course, nestling.//
Stalking out, the Dark Lord bellowed for his most faithful follower.
"Wormtail!"
 
 
July_4th,_Gringotts
 
Dobby 'popped' to the steps outside of Gringotts and made his way inside to
find the goblin his Master had requested. Gaining
the attention of an unoccupied teller after a short wait in line, the elf
declared himself.
"I is needing to speak to Griphook. My Master is telling me to ask for hims."
The teller shrugged indifferently, scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment and
dropped it in his out box, where it promptly
vanished. The elf wore no family crest, so it couldn't be that pressing, he
mused.
"Griphook will be up shortly. Please move to the side until he calls for you."
"Dobby is thanking you." Bouncing off to the side as instructed, the elf
settled in to wait.
Griphook made his way up to the lobby in answer to a curt and curiosity
inspiring summons. Entering the lobby, he spotted the
lone house elf his clansman had referred to.
"You requested Griphook?"
"Oh yes, Master Goblin! My master sent me to ask for you. Hims says yous was
kind to him and hims never forgot." Dobby held
out the letter he'd been clutching. "My Master needs yous help..."
"Follow me. I believe my office would be more appropriate." Leading the way
through several twisting corridors, the goblin
finally entered a small office and gestured for the elf to sit while he sat
down behind his desk. Opening he letter, his eyes
widened a little more the further on he read.
 
Griphook,
 
I doubt you remember me, but you made a definite impression on an eleven year
old novice to the wizarding world. Now, five
years later, I fear I am barely more prepared than that novice and I hope you
can help me again.
My house elf needs to be able to handle my business errands for me, as I am
forbidden to leave my relative's home. I do
not have possession of my vault key and do not know who does have it in hand,
as it was taken from me several years ago on
Head Master Dumbledore's order.
Besides acquiring access to my funds, I am also in need of an account
statement, something I have never received. If there
is any correspondence from Gringotts that I should be aware of, please send it
back with my elf so that I may be brought up
to date on what is expected of me in my interactions with your people and the
bank.
Any assistance that you or your fellow goblins can provide is greatly
appreciated.
In your debt,
Harry James Potter
 
Shocked that a wizard remembered him after one meeting, Griphook's face took on
a grim expression, his gaze focused on the name of the wizard in question.
"Please wait here. I must speak to my manager about specific options that may
be available to your Master. There is also
paperwork I need to retrieve. It will allow us to confirm his identity without
requiring his presence at this time..."
 
Nodding his understanding, Dobby wrung his hands nervously none the less. The
look on the goblin's face was not a happy look.
"Dobby is thanking you, Master Griphook."
 
July_4th,_Unplottable_Location
 
Prostrating himself before the Dark Lord, Severus kissed the hem of his
Master's robe and held himself still while clearing
his mind of extraneous thought and strengthening his Occulemency shields. He
hated being alone with Voldemort. It gave the
gifted Legilimens far too much time to focus entirely on the thoughts and
behaviour of his wayward spy into the camp of the
Light.
"How may I serve you, my Lord?"
"Ah, eager as always, I see. That is good, Ssseverusss. Very good." Voldemort
studied the back of the potion master's head
for a long moment before cutting to the chase. "What potions do you know of
that would restore my appearance?"
"Cosmetically or actual full restoration, my Lord?" Thinking quickly, Severus
compiled a list of potions that would meet
both requirements. The list was woefully short and he felt certain that his
master was already aware of them.
"Ever the wily Slytherin, my servant. Full restoration, of course. If I wanted
a cosmetic fix, I would simply use Glamourie
charms and be done with it."
"Of course, my Lord. I know of only a few potions, most notably the Recreo
Primaevus Draught, the Expurgo Corporeus Draught
and the De-Aging Potion. I have most of the components, but I would need to
acquire the rarer ones to ensure freshness and
quality."
Pleased by his potion master's ready response and the unexpected addition of
the de-aging potion, Voldemort nodded his
acceptance.
"Beyond the obvious purpose, why suggest the de-aging potion?"
"Reversing the effects of age in wizards often entails a simple renewal and
revitalization of the flesh, which is in part my
Lord's request. It may not give you a significantly younger appearance, but I
believe it will assist the other potions in
doing their work. Overall, I believe you will be pleased with the results."
"Go then, and do not fail me in this task, Severus."
"It will be as you say, my Lord," Severus murmured and Disapparated away.
 
 
July_4th,_Gringotts
 
"Chieftain Ragnok? Oc Dager Griphook claims urgent news," Shethrock stated.
"Should I send him away?"
"Send him in. I will deal with him if his news is without consequence," Ragnok
stated and sat back to wait for the younger
goblin's arrival.
Bowing deeply to his chieftain, Griphook held himself still until the elder
goblin deigned to acknowledge his presence. A
quiet grunt signalled his reprieve and he straightened.
"The Chosen Child's house elf is in my office, Sheklac. He brought a most
disturbing letter..."
Taking the parchment from Griphook, Ragnok bent his head to read the young
wizard's plea for help. That the wizard was
appealing to the goblins and not his own kind was a point the elder goblin
could not ignore, especially given the boy's
position in their future. Goblin Seers rarely foresaw events relating to other
species, but when they did, all goblins took
them seriously.
"Put together a full statement of Lord Potter's account and gather together the
books written by our last Goblin Friend while the elf gets his master's
signature authenticated. Also, dictate a letter requesting Lord Potter's
presence for a private
reading of the Potter and Black wills. At least he is cunning enough to find
ways around the controls Dumbledore has placed
on him." Ragnok sighed heavily.
"Once the elf returns, give him the statements, books and letter for Lord
Potter and assign a mail pouch to the young Lord so
he can receive his official Gringotts mail without hassle."
"What method of money handling would you prefer I offer, Sheklac?"
"A money pouch keyed to the elf and one keyed to Lord Potter through his
signature authentication parchment."
"I will complete everything to your specifications, Sheklac. Thank you for this
audience." Griphook bowed deeply to the elder
war leader.
"You showed good sense, Oc Dager Griphook. Since you have the young Lord's
trust, I am appointing you as his account manager.
Do not prove me wrong."
"Thank you, Sheklac! I will not fail you!"
Dobby looked up when Griphook returned with a sealed roll of parchment, his
large eyes full of curiosity as he accepted it
from him.
"I am needing to take this to my master?"
"Have your master read through the parchment and sign it in the indicated box
at the bottom. Next to the signature box is an
authentication square. He will need to place three drops of blood within the
square. Return here and I will handle the rest
of Lord Potter's requests."
"Thank you, Mister Griphook! Dobby will be coming back shortly."
 
 
July_4th,_Hogwarts_School_of_Witchcraft_and_Wizardry
 
Apparating back to the location he had left such a short time ago, Severus shed
the Death Eater robes and mask, sighed his
relief and began the walk back up to Hogwarts. If he was in luck, Albus would
still be gone and he'd have time for at least
one stiff shot of Brandy before he had to give his report to the old man.
Luck was with him and he had time to properly savour two full snifters of his
favourite alcohol while contemplating the fact
that he had escaped this meeting without punishment, something he rarely
recalled happening even with visits as short as this
one had been. The detector he had set to let him know when Albus was in the
castle chimed then settled into a pale glow and
he reluctantly rose to go speak to the Head Master.
Settling into his poufy chair, Albus ordered tea from the house elf who
appeared at his call, then stretched with a low groan.
Smiling a little as his back relaxed, he contemplated the irony of having the
Potter proxy offer up the legislation that
would put a stop to the move that he was certain Sirius Black had planned in
his will - the emancipation of one Harry James
Potter.
"Not on my watch," he murmured and poured a cup of tea once it appeared.
A glance at his desk showed Severus to be on his way out of the dungeons,
causing the Head Master to arch an eyebrow
inquisitively.
"Now that's curious. I wonder why the dear boy is willingly crawling out of his
hole during the first week of
the summer."
"He was summoned by You-Know-Who a short while ago," stated head Master Dippet
from his portrait. "The young man wasn't gone
very long for once. Might have been a false alarm."
"Tom doesn't do false alarms," Albus mused quietly. "I am most curious what the
boy has to report this time."
Arriving before the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Head
Master's office, Severus sneered at the great beast.
"Snicker's bars," he growled and rode the revolving stairs up and walked in
before Albus could even finish calling to him.
"Albus," he muttered curtly, nodded a greeting and took his usual seat.
"My word, Severus! What has you in such a foul temper? Would you care for tea?
Lemon drop?"
"Tea would be good. Thank you," Severus murmured and accepted the proffered cup
with full knowledge that it was probably
laced with a calming draught. Right now, he felt like he needed it, so he
ignored it.
"The Dark Lord summoned me alone less than an hour ago and requested the
potions necessary to restore his body to its proper state."
"Do you have any idea what prompted this sudden desire to correct the damage
he's done to himself?"
"He has been strangely quiet since the events last year, when he regained his
body at Little Hangleton," Severus mused.
"Merlin, but it's been harder than ever to understand what he wants and expects
from us! At one meeting he would sound
completely clear headed and rational, then at the next he'll be back to using
the cruciatus for the slightest hint of wrong
doing." The dark wizard sighed expressively.
"You know all of this already. Today was the first summons I have received
since the events at the Ministry, so I can only
guess that he was gravely injured by his encounter with you. He was quite lucid
today, quite rational and let me go with
nothing more than a verbal threat to not fail him."
Nodding to acknowledge that he had heard what the younger man had to say, Albus
tapped his steepled fingers against his chin
and contemplated this latest tidbit of news.
"What potions does he require from you?"
"The Recreo Primaevus Draught, Expurgo Corporeus Draught and the De-Aging
Potion."
"Merlin's Beard," Albus breathed. "Those are old and powerful restoratives.
Will you even be able to complete them? Tom is
no slacker when it comes to potions."
"He would know if I made them improperly and will likely make them himself as
well, just in case I do make an error," Severus
grudgingly admitted. "Other than vanity, I can see no purpose to his request."
"Ah, but vanity is a powerful motivator, Severus. Perhaps there is someone he
wishes to openly pursue? If that were the case,
he would want to look his best. Of course, it is more likely that he has some
other motivation in mind."
Unable to picture the Dark Lord pursuing the favour of some pure blooded witch,
Severus opted to believe in an ulterior motive that neither of them had
considered as of yet.
"I will see what I can find out. As it stands, I have some travelling to do to
obtain all of the necessary ingredients for
the three potions. I must at least give the impression that I am carrying
through with his wishes."
"Actually, it may be in our best interests for you to do so to the best of your
ability, my boy. The Expurgo Corporeus
Draught is very powerful and may well undo some of the darker modifications he
has made to himself and he may have a definite
period of recovery from the whole restoration process. This could very well be
the opening we have been looking for."
Twinkle at full blast, Albus smiled at the surly potion master. "Now, why don't
you go back to enjoying your solitude and
your brandy for a day or so before you head out to go ingredient hunting?"
"I had every intention of doing exactly that, Albus."
 
July_4th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
Dobby popped into his master's bedroom after a quick stop at Hogwarts to
prepare a large lunch for the overly thin teenager.
He took one look at the young wizard and sighed softly. He had clearly cried
himself to sleep over something and the little
elf felt helpless to protect his beloved master from these pains.
"Master Harry, please be waking up. Dobby has lunch for yous and forms from
Gringotts."
Stirring, Harry wiped at his face reflexively and sat up with a groan. Putting
his glasses back on, he breathed in deeply and
sighed.
"That smells great, Dobby. Thanks. I'll eat once I look over the papers. How
did it go?"
"Mister Griphook was very helpful, Master Harry. He gave Dobby a card so all
yous business comes to hims and sent these papers so
the goblins can gets yous key back and let Dobby shop for yous." Handing the
roll of parchment over, the elf waited patiently
for Harry to read through it.
Reading the document through carefully, Harry was grateful for and surprised by
how straightforward and simple the overall
text was. He had honestly expected something only a lawyer could understand.
Taking it over to his desk, he signed the document, then looked around with a
frown.
"I need a sharp knife. This thing requires blood, too." A snap of his
companion's fingers and Harry was looking at his
potions knife. "I always forget I have this thing. Thanks, Dobby."
"Griphook was saying it needs just three drops, Master Harry."
Cutting his finger just enough to draw blood, the young wizard nodded at the
house elf and carefully let three drops of blood
fall into the square at the bottom of the parchment. The parchment suddenly
rolled itself up and the seal mended itself,
causing Harry to yip in surprise.
"Is that normal?"
"Oh yes," Dobby assured him and healed his finger with a small burst of magic.
"Magical parchments can be made to do that.
Dobby will go finish errands. You is to be eating and Dobby will be back with
yous dinner later tonight."
"Yes, Mom," Harry teased gently. "Go on. Don't spend too much. I'll eat. I
promise."
 
July_4th,_The_Burrow
 
"Are you writing to Harry?"
Hermione looked up at Ginny and smiled at the petite red head.
"It's just the beginnings of what we've been finding out about the things in
his letter. I have one ready for when Dobby
comes back around, though. How about you?"
"I wrote a quick note out last night before I went to bed. It's easier to keep
track that way." The younger girl sighed. "I'm
scared, 'Mione...what if we all have been Obliviated or worse? What do we do?
Can we trust Healer Monroe to really help us?"
"Ron seems to feel comfortable with him, so I'm willing to give him something
of a benefit of a doubt." Squeezing her friend's hand comfortingly, Hermione
smiled a little.
"I'm nervous, too. It's scary as hell for me to think that any one of us may
have had our memories or behaviours altered. I
mean, look at what an unskilled Obliviate did to Neville. I don't blame you for
being scared, but we have to know, Ginny. We
have to know if someone has done this to us, and if they have, then we have to
try to fix it."
Ginny nodded and hugged the older witch fiercely before stepping back with a
cheeky grin.
"Now, missy bookworm. Put away that quill and parchment and go put on your
swimsuit. It's a great day and Luna and the boys
are already down at the pond."
Grinning, Hermione complied readily and headed up to the room she shared with
Ginny to change clothes.
 
July_4th,_Gringotts,_Diagon_Alley_and_Knockturn_Alley
 
Griphook took the signed parchment to the appropriate department and retrieved
the account statements, letter and books he
had been ordered to provide. Placing everything into a bottomless, weight
reducing satchel, he returned to his office and met the house elf's open gaze.
"This satchel will hold most of your shopping for Lord Potter. I have already
placed his account statements, some
correspondence and several books that he may find enlightening inside it."
He placed a smaller bag on the desk. "This is a money bag. Tell it the amount
you need and it will fill itself accordingly up
to 100 galleons at a time. Place your hand on the bag so that I can key it to
you. It has already been keyed to Lord Potter."
"Thank you Mister Griphook." Placing his hand on the bag as directed, Dobby
felt a tingle of magic and drew the bag into his
lap. "Is there anything Dobby is needing to tell Master Harry immediately?"
"Just make sure he reads his correspondence before he gets lost in the books
and statements," Griphook requested. "There is
nothing that he has to respond to immediately, however. I am at your master's
disposal, so please come to me if there is
anything I can do to help him."
"Dobby will tell him yous were very kind and helpful, Mister Griphook. I have
much to do for him yet today."
 
Finally done with his master's business at Gringotts, Dobby bounced down Diagon
Alley to Flourish and Bott's for the more
common books on his list, stopped at the Stationary shop to buy more parchment,
ink and quills, then went into Eeylop's Owl
Emporium to purchase owl treats for Hedwig.
Pausing to go over his list of things to do, Dobby nodded to himself and headed
for Knockturn Alley and the shops that he
knew would contain the rarer and more questionable items he would need to
fulfill Harry's requests.
For once, he was glad he had once been the house elf to a bad master - knowing
what his bad master did and had taught his son
meant that Dobby could make sure the great Harry Potter could defend himself
from other bad wizards. Seeing the store front
for Borgin and Burkes, he scuttled in with a suddenly cowed air about him.
"Mister Borgin...master is sending me to pick up hims things. Hims is wanting
them now," he forced out, eyes wide and scared
looking. Wringing his hands, he moaned when the older wizard frowned at him.
"Please, Mister Borgin. If Master doesn't get
his things, master will punish…”
"I thought Malfoy was still in Azkaban," Borgin muttered at the cowering house
elf. "You say he wants the things he ordered?"
"Master is home. Master is wanting what he ordered. Hims is very angry
still...hims will punish..."
"Oh shut your snivelling! Good thing he already paid or I'd have sold the stuff
already as it is." Growling to himself about
whiny elves and over bearing, stuck up nobles, Mr. Borgin snatched up the
shrunken crate labelled with Lucius Malfoy's name and brought it out to the
elf. A stack of books was waiting for him on the counter when he turned to look
at it.
"What's this?"
"More books for the young Master, Mr. Borgin..."
"Oh, very well. That'll be 100 galleons." Taking the money with a greedy glint
in his eye, Mr. Borgin watched the cowering creature place the loose books in a
satchel, then toddle away with the shrunken package. "Crazy beast. Never
understood why he keeps that elf around. It's completely nutters."
Grinning wickedly, Dobby made a few more quick stops in little known and rarely
visited shops, the last of which was a junk
shop where he acquired a solid handful of wands. His master was vulnerable
without a wand, so he was certain to make sure he
found him a wand. Feeling quite good about his shopping trip, especially after
having removed who knows what dark artefacts
from the bad wizard's control, Dobby dropped off the rest of Harry's
correspondence and popped over to Hogwart's to make
dinner before returning to his Master's side.
 
 
July_4th,_Hogwarts_School_of_Witchcraft_and_Wizardry
 
"The brat couldn't possibly stay docile forever, Albus. He's a bloody
teenager!" Severus pointed out with an unhappy sneer.
He'd been having such a lovely evening after the earlier interruption and now
he was stuck entertaining Albus again. He
couldn't wait for morning when he had to leave on his hunt for potions
ingredients. "I can see that he is trouble. Why can't
you see what I see?"
"Harry will be what he was born to be and nothing more, Severus. He knows the
prophecy.” The aged headmaster sighed
expressively, blue eyes hard behind his half moon spectacles. "Despite
everything, he is a weapon of the Light. Everything I
do is done to ensure that does not change. We need him to kill Voldemort."
"I am curious what our plans for the Potter brat are." Severus drawled his
comment, obsidian eyes glittering maliciously.
"That is assuming, of course, that the little fool survives the Summer. I don't
see how you expect him to complete that task,
personally. Are you so certain he is the chosen one of the prophecy?"
Dumbledore chuckled softly, the sound not comforting in the least. Twinkle at
full blast, he tapped his steepled fingers on
his chin and debated on how to answer.
"Amazing what dumb luck will allow you to survive, is it not? I am surprised
that he has survived this long my self, quite
honestly." He frowned. "He is the one. How else could he have survived a
killing curse?" Contemplating the dark wizard in the
seat across from him, Albus smiled a bit. "We will deal with each event as it
comes and concern ourselves with the end of the
war once we get there."
A third, rough and raspy voice cut in to their conversation before Severus
could reply to the Head Master's statements.
"All this talk of your supposed 'greater good' is fine and dandy for you, Head
Master, but it means nothing in the grand
scheme of things."
Eyeing the Sorting Hat warily, Severus felt a growing sense of rightness.
Something was about to shift the balance and it was
going to happen soon.
"Is there a new prophecy?" he inquired cautiously.
"Indeed there is." The battered old hat smiled and nodded, or so it seemed.
"There is something you have not considered about
the old prophecy beyond that fact that it does not in any way state that the
defeater of the Dark Lord must be Light."
Albus' twinkle dimmed considerably. It was true – he had always assumed that
his weapon would be lily white.
"But he's a Potter, from a centuries old line of Light wizards...how could he
be anything but Light?"
"Sirius Black was a Grey wizard from an equally long line of Dark wizards,"
Severus mused, his disdain for the other man
still evident in his tone. "The history of the line does not preclude the
occasional odd man out, as it were and Dark does
not have to mean evil in any case."
"Very good, Severus Snape. Ten points to Slytherin!" The hat beamed as it
complimented the Head of Slytherin. The ancient
artefact then managed to actually look secretive and shifty despite being a
hat.
"I won't allow Harry to go Dark," Albus declared firmly.
"Only young Mr. Potter can make that decision, Albus. Remember my warning and
do not over estimate yourself."
"You said there was a new prophecy, Alistor. What is it?"
"There are numerous new prophecies given on a regular basis. I am sure you are
resourceful enough to find whichever ones may
apply to your own sticky little problems." Alistor promptly settled and went
still, all appearances of life lost.
 
July_4th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
Harry ate his dinner and watched Dobby unload stacks of books out of a
deceptively small satchel. Eyes widening at the sheer
quantity of books, he shook his head in silent bemusement. A metal banded crate
that reeked of dark magic was resized to its
full size and he really started to get nervous.
"Um, Dobby...how much did you spend and where did you get all of this stuff?"
"Dobby was spending very little, Master Harry. Only 210 galleons." Stymied by a
lack of storage space, Dobby frowned. "There is no place for Dobby to be
putting yous library."
"Maybe I need a trunk like Mad-Eye, one of those multi-compartment things,"
Harry mused, then choked when Dobby opened the crate and the seductive feel of
dark magic washed out into the small room. "Maybe I need it now. Dobby! Who's
on duty right
now?"
A quick set of pops and the elf reappeared.
"Missy Tonks is watching, Master Harry."
"I need that trunk now, Dobby. It needs to have more than one compartment and I
need it to be charmed so that people like
Moody and Dumbledore can't see into it. If anyone finds out about this stuff,
I'll be in deep shit."
"Dobby is getting it, Master Harry!"
Groaning to himself, Harry left his dinner and started looking through
everything Dobby had purchased. Finding titles like
'Occulemency: The Fortress of the Mind', 'Moste Potente Potions', 'Rites,
Rituals and Beyond', and many more, he shook his head in quiet amazement. Every
thing he had asked for and then some was here, and that thought drew him to
that tempting
crate of items. Filled with books and items that looked as dark and powerful as
they felt, the young wizard shivered after looking in and decided to let those
alone for now. He would start on all of this tomorrow once he had a clear head
and the security of knowing that his belongings were safe.
 
July_5th,_St._Mungo's_&_The_Ministry_of_Magic
 
Locking up his office, Master Healer Octavius Monroe headed for the Floo room
and tossed some powder into the fireplace.
Making sure he was alone, he drew on a grey, non-descript cloak and stepped
into the fire.
"Ministry of Magic."
Stepping out into the atrium with practiced grace, Octavius approached the
security check point with no intention of
stopping.
Sputtering, the Security Clerk at the Wand Registry Desk started to question
the person who had just walked past him, then
paled and returned to his duties once he recognized the cloak.
"Bloody Unspeakables," he breathed and waited for someone else to come along.
More amused than anything, Octavius took the lift down to the deepest level of
the Ministry, where it opened onto a small
foyer and a black basalt door that was covered in runic symbols. Approaching
the door, he paused when he felt the warning of
the wards.
"Ordo Aeternum," he murmured and stepped through.
"Isn't it a bit late for you to be coming in this evening, Octavius?" teased a
remarkably delicate and harmless looking young woman.
"I need to review some files. This case I'm working is far more complex than
any of us anticipated." Shedding his cloak, the
Healer draped the garment over an empty chair and settled at his desk.
"The Weasley boy? Have you actually found something useful about the Brains?"
"That has actually become secondary to a much more important matter, but yes, I
believe I may have found something about the
Brains. The young man was a gifted strategist prior to the attack, but now he
seems to have a sense of...multiple possibilities on his own personal timeline.
It's remarkable and quite unsettling for young Mr. Weasley."
"And your oh, so pressing issue?" The woman arched one finely arched, dark
eyebrow at him and smirked, sea green eyes
glittering with amusement.
"My current concern involves the Ministry six as a group." Octavius sighed
quietly. "It's a primed powder keg of a cluster
fuck, Mina."
"How so?" Mina frowned, eyes darkening with concern. This was clearly eating at
the Healer and she felt a need to help.
"It is more than vaguely possible that they have all been Obliviated illegally
more than once as a best case scenario and
subjected to behaviour modification spells at the minimal worst."Fuming, the
Healer muttered under his breath for several
long moments before finally regaining his composure. A wickedly nasty smirk
twisted his mouth.
"If I find that it is true, I will be processing the paper work for legal
action."
"Who do you think is responsible? It would have to be someone who had ready
access..." Mina trailed off, eyes widening, then
narrowing with obvious disapproval. "You think..."
"It has to be someone at the school and my expectations are running high, if
you follow my meaning."
"Sweet Merlin, I hope you're wrong. Something like that would be a massive blow
to the morale of the wizarding world."
"Don't worry, Mina. If my suspicions prove to be true, then I will confer with
all of the children first. They will probably
agree to leave it alone until the war is over so long as charges are
pending...no matter how powerful the culprit may be."
"Which files do you need specifically?"
"Potter, Harry James. Weasley, Ronald Billius. Weasley, Ginevra Molly. Granger,
Hermione Jane. Lovegood, Luna Wilhemina.
Longbottom, Neville Frank." Letting out a weary sigh, Octavius shook his head
at the stack of substantial files that appeared
before him.
"This is going to be a long weekend. I hope we have plenty of tea on hand."
 
 
July_5th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
Reading through the account statements Dobby had retrieved for him confused
Harry at first. There was so much information,
so much parchment to go through, that he was quickly getting lost in it. Having
minimal experience with financial matters,
and none at all for an estate of this magnitude, he groaned and started
separating the parchments out by the individual vault numbers before trying to
wade through the numbers yet again.
"Is this right? This can't be right. I have to be reading it wrong or
something..."
Smacking himself on the forehead, he looked at the ceiling and shook his head,
a vague look of disgust on his face before he
straightened and retrieved a few sheets of blank parchment and a ball point
pen.
"Thank you for making me learn to revise properly, 'Mione," he muttered and
went through each vault, scribbling notes as he
went, the parchments soon resembling notes for a math class in a muggle school.
Finally done looking through the six Potter
family vaults and his trust vault, he sighed tiredly, green eyes focused on the
header for each of the main vault statements.
"The Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. No one ever bothered to mention
that little tidbit of information."
Taking a deep breath, he returned his attention to the notes he had taken and
slowly let out a breath he’d been unaware of
holding.
"Bloody hell!" Amazement washed over him as the sheer enormity of eight digits
worth of pure monetary value sank in and made
him giddy. Then the anger creeped up on him with all the subtlety of a well hit
bludger and his eyes flared brightly.
"You said you'd tell me everything, Dumbledore. What part of everything did you
not understand?" he hissed, nearly lapsing
into parseltongue in his angry ranting.
 
 
Translations:
Oc Dager- Goblin for Young Warrior
Sheklac- Goblin for Chieftain
In case anyone is interested, I found a great 'Common to Goblin' translator.
Here's the link. Just take out the spaces.
http : // www . coveworld . net / eberron / goblin _ translator . html
***** The seductive caress of twilight... *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run.
Will contain het/slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Pairing: None currently.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J.K.R.’s characters. Pity, that…
 
// Parseltongue //
Thoughts & Mindspeech
Letters, etc.
 
AN: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I really
appreciate your feedback!
 
“…But seduction isn’t making someone do what they don’t want to do. Seduction
is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already.”
- Waiter Rant
 
 
July_5th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
Calming from his fit of temper, the only human magical resident of # 4 Privet
Drive shot a resentful look at the pile of parchment that now served as much as
a reminder of Dumbledore’s many betrayals as it served to remind him of how
little he knew of his parents. Harry pulled the Gringotts satchel towards him
and reached in to find the correspondence Dobby had mentioned to him the
previous evening. Instead of parchment, his hand encountered a soft cloth bag
that felt like it was full of sticks.
“Eh?”
Pulling out a plain brown pouch, Harry opened it and looked at its contents
with wide eyes. Wands? His mind questioned. How did I get…oh.
“Dobby.”
“Yous is calling, Master Harry?”
“Yeah. Where did the wands come from? Please tell me you didn’t take them from
Ollivanders or some…”
“Oh, no, Master Harry! Dobby finds them in a junk shop and bought them so the
Great Harry Potter would have a wand. It is not being safe, yous wand being
gone.”
Visibly relieved, Harry relaxed a bit and nodded his acceptance.
“I did say I needed a wand,” he murmured quietly. “Thanks Dobby. I just had to
be sure. Um, you didn’t get them from a place like Borgin and Burkes, did you?
That crate has enough dark stuff in it for me to go through…”
“The junk shop is way down off Knockturn Alley, Master. A little man with
slanted eyes and funny accent sold them to me.”
Amused by the idea that Dobby thought the clerk of the shop had a funny accent
given his own eccentric way of speaking, Harry chuckled and nodded.
“Sounds fairly safe then, I guess.”
“Is there anything else Dobby can be doing for yous?”
“N-Yes, there is something.” A slightly vindictive, more than a little angry
glint sparked to life in the young man’s green, green eyes.
“Find my old wand and my invisibility cloak, but do not retrieve them. I don’t
want Dumbledore or whoever Obliviated me to know I remember what happened that
day. I just want to know who has my things and where they’re being kept.”
The elf vanished with a sharp nod of understanding.
 
Alone yet again, Harry cautiously poured the wands out onto his bed and looked
them over for obvious damage. One looked like someone had given it to a baby or
small animal as a chew toy and another had a spiral fracture that ran from the
base to the tip. He winced, but figured he’d give them a careful wave at least,
just to make sure it wasn’t a complete loss.
“Might as well do it the Ollivander way,” he muttered and picked up the chewed
one to give it a wave. The wand felt dead in his hand and he dropped it back in
the bag. The next couple of wands were just as bad and he began to worry that
he would have to send Dobby out to another shop to find some more wands. He had
been very difficult to match at eleven, so why should he have any more luck
now?
“Beautiful,” he whispered, eyes and hands drawn to one wand in particular, it’s
glossy red surface and intricate gold and silver inlay a breath taking sight
only to be rivalled or surpassed by the reaction his magic had when he picked
it up.
“Merlin!” His gasp was punctuated by a shower of red, gold, green and silver
sparks, his arm jerking from the nearly painful, burning surge of magic. “Oh,
that’s bloody perfect,” he whispered and his new wand seemed to agree as his
magic settled into place and waited patiently for him to call it forth.
Wanting to be certain that he had not overlooked an equally good match, Harry
tried the last few wands, but none gave him any more of a reaction than the
calm sense of warmth he had come to associate with his original holly and
phoenix feather wand.
Putting the bag of wands away in his new trunk, he devoted himself to a brief
study of the unusually shaped, red lacquered wand – instead of being round or
even a bit more squared off, it was hexagonal, like a quartz crystal. He
admired the gold and silver inlay for a moment and tucked the wand away from
prying eyes. He had correspondence to tackle.
 
July_5th,_Hogwarts_School_of_Witchcraft_and_Wizardry
 
Focusing in on his master’s original wand, Dobby popped in and felt the item
nearby. He looked at the desk drawer where he knew the item in question sat
before looking up as Albus Dumbledore looked down at him with a frown.
Immediately shifting gears, the elf smiled cheerfully and bounced merrily.
“Would yous be liking some tea and treacle tart, Head Master Dumbleydore?”
Surprised by the mad little elf’s sudden appearance, Albus frowned and studied
the seemingly zoned out creature. He relented when the creature returned to its
normal behaviour and offered him a snack.
“I think that would be delightful, Dobby. That’s exactly what I need.”
Vanishing to fetch the treat for the elderly wizard, Dobby forced himself to
not gnash his teeth around one of the bad wizards who hurt his Master. If it
would help his Master, he could wait to punish Dumbleydore. Delivering the tray
to the Head Master with a happy bounce, he moved on to finding Harry’s
invisibility cloak.
Savouring the sweetness of his tart, Dumbledore looked over at the ornate perch
near his desk and wondered where Fawkes was off to. It was surprising that he
had not returned to at least visit since his Master’s return from the Ministry.
Shrugging it off as unimportant for the time being, he settled in to read the
legislation he would be required to vote on at the next Wizengamot session.
Unnoticed from his position, the charred but recognizable remains of his letter
to the Dursleys lay in the ash basin of his phoenix’s perch.
 
July_5th,_Somewhere_in_Knockturn_Alley
 
Homing in on the invisibility cloak proved to be a bit more of a challenge than
Dobby had originally anticipated. The target location kept changing right about
the time that the little elf would get enough of a fix to be able to pop in.
Finally, after a rather frustrating and stimulating hours long chase, Dobby
managed to pop in behind the individual who was carrying Harry’s cloak.
Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt paused in a dark alcove to survey a section
of Knockturn Alley where he had just been sent to investigate for Death Eater
activity. After having to apparate all over London to do follow-up reports on
the junior aurors under his command, he was truly grateful to actually be
working.
He frowned and looked around, his well trained combat sense telling him he was
being watched. Seeing nothing because he failed to look down, the auror simply
shook the feeling off and went back to the business of looking out for Death
Eaters.
Recognizing the tall, black auror even before he turned around, Dobby vanished.
This was very disturbing news and he was not looking forward to sharing it with
his Master. He hated to see the kind young wizard upset and this was going to
do just that.
 
July_5th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
After managing to fish his mail out of the seemingly bottomless satchel, Harry
moved himself to his desk where he had writing materials available in case he
needed to compose a reply. Opening the first letter, he settled in and began to
read.
 
Mr. Harry James Potter,
Having been recently notified of your inability to receive owl post, we at
Gringotts must inquire as to the last date you were able to receive unimpeded
correspondence so that any pertinent reports or requests can be forwarded to
you via your Gringotts Mail Pouch.
Please reply at your earliest convenience so that I can begin processing your
mail.
Potter Estate Account Manager,
Griphook
 
Contemplating that short but direct letter, the young wizard decided to be just
as direct. Searching his memory, he found no recollections of having received
any mail from Gringotts. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have received any
prior to these letters, so he decided to play it safe in his reply.
 
Mr. Griphook,
Thank you for the offer to update me on any missed Gringotts correspondence.
Unfortunately, as your letters are the first correspondence I have ever
received from the Goblins, I am uncertain where you would need to start.
I assume that my account statement covers the important points, but if there is
more I need to be aware of, please send it to me when it is convenient to do
so.
Still in your debt,
Harry James Potter
 
Harry opened the next letter from Gringotts and had tears running down his face
when he contemplated the fact that the reading of Sirius’ will made it real –
it meant he wasn’t coming back.
…We offer our sincere condolences for the loss of your Godfather and guardian,
Sirius Orion Black…
The goblins wouldn’t allow the will to be read if they weren’t somehow
completely certain that he was beyond reach. He would really have to be dead
for them to send him this letter. Wouldn’t he?
Your presence is requested for a private reading of the Black will within two
weeks after your sixteenth birthday…
Harry slowly composed himself before writing his reply.
 
Mr. Griphook,
I hope that this question doesn’t offend you, but how do you know Sirius is
dead? He fell through the Veil and there was nothing wrong with him. They never
retrieved the body…how do you know he’s really gone?
Putting his quill down, Harry buried his face in his hands and took deep,
calming breaths. He hadn’t realized how much hope he’d placed in the thought
that Sirius might make it back somehow. He escaped from the supposedly
inescapable Azkaban, so why not the Veil? Scrubbing his face free of tears, he
returned to his letter and forced himself to finish it.
 
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I will arrive at Gringotts on Saturday,
August 3rd at 10 in the morning for the private reading of my Godfather’s will.
If a different date and time would be more convenient, then please notify me so
I can make plans for the change.
As I have never had the chance to read my parent’s will, would it be possible
for me to view that as well? I don’t even know if they had one, but I think it
might help me to put some things behind me.
Thank you,
Harry James Potter
 
Addressing both letters to Griphook as his Account Manager, Harry placed his
replies in the mail pouch and flopped down on his bed, fingers toying with his
replacement wand. The slick lacquer felt oddly reassuring as he traced the gold
and silver designs with his fingertips. After much lazy contemplation, he
recognized the stylized bird as a phoenix and soon decided that the serpentine
silver inlay was a Basilisk since he wasn’t sure what type of serpent it was
meant to depict. Clutching the wand to his chest like a lifeline, he let his
thoughts roam.
“What’s everyone else up to today?” he mused aloud. So far, their letters had
been full of the usual teenaged summer fun that he knew existed at the Burrow
and he knew it was meant to reassure him, but in fact, he envied them bitterly.
They had freedom, however limited it might be. They had never been trapped like
this, caged like Dumbledore had done to him for years and Sirius before him.
So, are you going to lie there and feel sorry for yourself, or are you going to
make use of that lovely new wand? The voice he’d come to associate with his
Slytherin side chose that moment to speak up, startling him into an undignified
‘Ahh!’ Boy, are you jumpy.
What the bloody hell?! Who are you?
Your Slytherin side, of course. Had you forgotten me already? The voice
actually sounded hurt.
How could I possibly forget that I hear voices in my head? Was the sarcastic
reply.Is that you, Tom? ‘Mione was right. It is bad to hear voices in your
head. This proves it. He considered the conversation so far and came to the
solid conclusion that he knew the person he was speaking with. Your voice
sounds awfully familiar…
Why would this ‘Tom’ individual take the time to talk to you? Maybe the voice
is familiar because it’s your own voice…
Frowning while he considered that unlikely possibility, Harry reached for the
place in his mind where a metaphysical doorway connected his mind to
Voldemort’s. Locating it, he checked to see if it was open or closed and found
it to be slightly ajar.
That is possible, he admitted. But I’ll just check this pesky door first, if
that’s okay with you, Tom. If I close this, are you going to be trapped over
here with me? He put pressure on the door as if he were going to push it
closed.
Now, my Little Serpent, there is no need to be hasty or rude. I’m not even
hurting you.Voldemort exerted some pressure of his own to keep the door open
for the time being. He hadn’t expected the brat to catch on to his game this
quickly, but that just added to the excitement of the game.
Why do you call me that? Harry hesitated mostly because what Tom said was true
– his scar was tingling a bit, but it definitely did not hurt. And why are you
in my head?
You are a parseltongue and there is so much in you that Salazar would have been
proud to welcome into his House, so you are my Little Serpent. Tom sighed and
tried to think of a suitable reason for being in the boy’s head since he wasn’t
really sure himself. He decided a non-answer might be the safest path to take
for the moment.
Fighting unprepared children is such a boring prospect for someone like me, for
someone like you. No, I much prefer to face off against fully prepared witches
and wizards. They tend to be so much more gratifying in the challenge they
present, don’t you think?
Riiight. Harry snorted gracelessly and wondered where Tom pulled things like
that up from.
Such sarcasm, Little Serpent. Surely you gained far more fulfilment from
duelling my dear Bella to a standstill than you have ever gained from your
juvenile scuffles with the Malfoy heir. Tom felt the jolt of that comment
hitting home and practically purred his satisfaction. Oh, yes, there was hope
for his Little Serpent, after all.
That statement silenced Harry for a long moment. How could he deny the truth of
those damning words when he had, indeed, felt more powerful and full of life
during that duel than at almost any other time of his life. Alright, I concede
your point, Tom. Now, why exactly are you here, talking to me in my head?
Your wand is surely unregistered, my Little Serpent. Now you can study
properly. Please do study, Harry. Learn everything you can and finish
destroying all of those annoying blocks on your magic. I am waiting for you,
Little Serpent. I am so eagerly waiting…
That just sounds sick and obsessed, as usual, Tom! If you’re going to drop in
to talk or ‘encourage’ me to get ready for our future duels, then have
something specific in mind to talk about. If you’re just here to taunt me, then
get out, you crazy bastard.
Harry shoved at the intruder with a sharp burst of power and felt him leave
with a cackle of high pitched, cold laughter that was abruptly cut off when the
door slammed shut between them. He stared at the offending portal, the door
that either of them could open and contemplated trying to block it over or lock
it up.
Though he hated to admit it, Tom had never lied to him or manipulated him in
ways that he wasn’t capable of seeing if he looked for it. Tom manipulated him
into duels, into untenable situations, because that was what a Dark Lord did to
his rival. He sighed and tried to ignore the part of his mind and soul that
looked forward to the day when he would face the older wizard as an equal. That
part of him would never allow the door to be locked.
 
July_5th,_Unplottable_Location
 
Eyes opening as his consciousness was abruptly shoved back into his own mind,
Voldemort winced and rubbed his forehead, mental eye still focused with baleful
intensity on the door that led to the mind of his fiercest rival.
Bold, cheeky and insolent brat. It’s my job to cause headaches, not his, he
muttered to himself even as a ghost of a smile curved his thin lips. He didn’t
say don’t come back. He just said have a purpose when I do return. Know thine
enemy, my little Serpent.
Contemplating the growing strength, and therefore, the growing threat posed by
The Boy Who Bloody Won’t Die, he relaxed into his executive style desk chair
and propped his booted feet up on the desktop.
Did he feel something for the brat besides rivalry and hate? Was that why the
boy had changed from the Potter brat to his little serpent? What did that mean
in the greater scope of his plans? He sighed restlessly and shook his head. He
didn’t know for sure how he felt about the whole situation, but one thing was
certain – if the boy refused to side with him, then his life would be forfeit.
For now, he would focus on seducing the powerful child away from the Light and
on other, more pressing issues like the retrieval of his Inner Circle from
Azkaban.
I’ll give him truth and I’ll give him knowledge and the Light’s own Saviour
will sow more chaos than I could ever hope to do alone. He knows the bitter
stench of betrayal…he has been fed on the meagre fare of lies…Let the seduction
begin.
 
July_5th,_Gringotts_Bank
 
A chime sounded in his small office and Griphook turned his attention to his In
Box. Finding two letters waiting, he picked them up and opened the first.
Reading it, he growled under his breath and planned another visit to Ragnok. It
was a direct violation of several treaty amendments, not to mention the
client’s rights, to deny them their official banking correspondence. Making
notes to him self on his desk organizer, the goblin carefully re-folded the
letter and set it to the side.
 
Sheklac Ragnok,
There are new developments with the Chosen One’s situation and this Oc Dager
feels the need for your wisdom in dealing with the situation. Please let me
know when it is convenient to meet with you.
Potter Estate Account Manager,
Oc Dager Griphook
 
Dropping the short note into his Out Box, where it promptly vanished, Griphook
proceeded on to the next letter. He made note of the date and time the boy
stated he would arrive so he could confirm it if need be, then froze. If he had
thought the issue of misdirected mail was bad, the issue regarding the Potter
will was worse. If the boy had been denied the right to see or even know of the
existence of his parent’s will, then what else was wrong? He would respond to
the boy’s concerns about the proof they had regarding his Godfather’s death at
a later time. A summons to Ragnok’s office appeared and he scurried out,
letters in hand.
 
“What new issues have come up, Griphook?”
Bowing slightly to his chieftain, Griphook gathered his thoughts and responded.
“The Chosen One has received no correspondence from Gringotts, Sheklac. None at
all before the two letters I sent to him via his house elf. Then I find out
through his second letter that he has never seen his parents will. He doesn’t
even know for sure that they have one.” He handed the two short letters to the
goblin chieftain.
“The Potter will was executed shortly after their death, or it should have
been. Begin a full investigation into the matter and alert Mr. Potter of what
we are doing and why. Get to the bottom of this, Griphook. We cannot afford
mistakes of any kind with an account of this magnitude. I am authorizing you to
perform a full audit on the Potter and Dumbledore accounts, and make sure to
closely investigate the Potter will.”
 
July_5th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
Returning to the smallest bedroom at #4 Privet Drive with lunch for his young
master, Dobby conjured a small table and placed the meal before him. He waited,
fidgeting nervously, for the questions he knew were to come.
Still a bit preoccupied after his recent encounter with Tom, Harry frowned at
the elf’s unusual behaviour, tilted his head to one side and tried to figure
out what had him so upset. He quickly gave up.
“What’s wrong, Dobby?”
“Dobby is finding yous old wand and cloak…”
“Well, that’s good news. They haven’t snapped my wand, have they?”
“Oh, no, Master Harry! Yous wand feels whole and is in Dumbleydore’s desk.”
“And my cloak?” The whereabouts of his wand came as absolutely no surprise, and
was barely enough to spark his anger at this point. He had expected it.
“Mister Shacklebolt is having it…”
“Kingsley?” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he thought about the scenario that had led
to his ‘capture’ and return to Privet Drive newly Obliviated and short his wand
and cloak. “A senior auror would be more than capable of taking me down fast
enough that I wouldn’t know who had done it…that does sound about right.” His
lips twisted into an almost feral smirk. “Kingsley and I will have to discuss
this one on one in the near future.”
 
Monday,_July_8th,_St._Mungo’s,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
Beckoning Ron into his office, Healer Monroe returned his gaze to the file that
lay open on his desk. Further movement seen out of the corner of his eye made
him blink and jerk his head up with a startled sound, the sight of five very
intense looking young people facing his desk enough to remind him of how
foolish he had been to let his guard down. Regaining his composure, he thanked
Merlin that they weren’t there out for his blood.
“The Ministry Five, since your leader is missing,” he mused and nodded to
acknowledge them before conjuring sufficient seating for the unexpected
arrivals. “I admit that I was expecting Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, but the
rest of you are a bit of a surprise. What brings you to my office?”
“We need to know if we have spells cast on us,” Ginny stated, brown eyes full
of worry. “There are things we’ve all seen that are important. Have any of us
been Obliviated or worse?”
“All of us need to know,” Ron explained, tone earnest. “Just knowing that
something might be missing…it just doesn’t feel right.”
“We are all that Harry has at the moment,” Luna stated, her gaze unusually
clear and direct. “That will change in the near future, but for now, we’re it.
So, will you help us, or do we leave now and claim this was all a big prank to
get you going?”
Momentarily nonplussed, Octavius studied Luna as intently as she was studying
him. Nodding to himself, he smiled a little and made mental note to read the
young woman’s file again.
“I will do what I can, Miss Lovegood.” He then studied each one of the teens
for a long moment before speaking again. “I will need to perform a revealing
spell before I can do anything else. All it does is let me know if there are
any lingering or long term spell castings on your person. I will be checking
for Obliviation, blocks, compulsions…the whole bag. Do any of you object to
that?”
“That’s a lot to check for. Do you have to do this often?” Hermione was clearly
intrigued by the scope of the spell in question, as well as its implied
necessity.
“It’s fairly standard practice for anyone who has had prolonged contact with
the enemy,” the Mind Healer replied. “That includes all aurors who have been
around the Death Eaters for more than direct duelling and anyone who was
captured, regardless of how long they were missing. In your cases, you spent a
lot of time in contact with Inner Circle Death Eaters, not all of it centred on
duelling. Although I am fairly sure you don’t think they had anything to do
with your issues, that one fact gives me the necessary reasoning that I would
need for my superiors to understand and approve of your treatment alongside Mr.
Weasley.”
Seeing no other questions or concerns for the moment, Octavius cast with a
complex series of wand motions and directed his wand at each one of them before
stabbing it sharply at a stack of parchments on his desk.
“Acclaro obliviosus iugum obligatio oppressos!”
Leaving the parchments undisturbed for the moment, Healer Monroe shrugged
nonchalantly.
“Now we let the spell do its work. This will also give me a decent copy of the
magical signature of the person who cast the spells if there are, indeed any on
you.”
“So, it doesn’t tell you who did it, but if you have a suspect, it will help
you prove it?” Ginny sat forward eagerly.
“Indeed, that is the idea, Miss Weasley. Obviously, we already know the
identity of the idiot who cast the obliviate on Mr. Longbottom, so that is a
moot point. However, if what Mr. Weasley told me of your friend’s dream is true
and that signature is the same for any and all spells, then we have a much more
impressive case.” Octavius sighed.
“I will, however, burst your bubble now in case this turns out to be a worst
case scenario. If the caster was strong enough or knowledgeable enough to
properly cover their tracks, we may not be able to identify them this way.”
“Especially if they’re both of the above,” Neville muttered unhappily. “Thanks
for being up front about it, Healer Monroe.”
“That is the least I can do, Mr. Longbottom. Alright. These seem to have
settled down, so give me a moment to look them over before we discuss them.”
Scanning through the small stack of parchments, Healer Monroe growled softly,
hazel eyes sparking angrily before he was able to recover his composure
completely.
“You found something,” Ron stated quietly. He shifted nervously in the face of
the usually calm healer’s loss of composure. “How bad is it?”
“Well, either Miss Lovegood sloughs spells like water off a duck’s back or none
have been cast on her to date, so either way, that is a good bit of news,”
Octavius pronounced.
“I only recently joined the group and no one takes me seriously, anyway,” Luna
mused in her standard dreamy tone. “But then, they don’t take the Crumple-
horned Snorkack seriously either, so I’m not terribly surprised.”
Hermione grinned knowingly when the healer’s face went blank to cover his
amusement.
“What about the rest of us?”
“Mr. Weasley has a compulsion charm on him that appears to be designed to
prevent him from discussing several events, but that seems to be all.” Flipping
to the next page, Octavius focused on Ginny.
“Miss Weasley has a very strong compulsion focused on a period of time instead
of just a particular event, which makes me very curious as to what was going
on. There is also the residue of a failed obliviation and an aborted bonding
spell of some kind.”
Ginny paled and slumped in her seat a little bit, her brown eyes growing shiny
as tears threatened to fall. Her mouth worked but the words refused to come
out, until a supreme effort that resulted in visible pain allowed her to say
one word.
“Tom…”
Hermione shifted over to kneel before the younger girl and gathered her into a
fierce hug. Rocking her gently, Hermione nodded at the healer to continue.
“Shhhh, Ginny, just cry. It’s okay to cry about it. It must have been awful…”
“I take it this is a serious event that most of you are aware of, yes?”
“It’s about The Chamber of Secrets, I think,” Luna mused quietly. “I wasn’t
involved but it was an awful year for everyone at Hogwarts. Ginny and Harry had
it worse than anyone, though.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for later discussion, perhaps.” Octavius sighed heavily
and looked to the next parchment. Looking it over again in an effort to focus
his own thoughts, he finally looked up and directed his gaze to Neville.
“You also have a mild compulsion charm on you to prevent discussion of at least
a few events beyond the obvious reason I had hoped to see you here. That does,
however appear to be all that was cast on you.”
“Well, that’s good, at least.” Neville reached over to awkwardly pat Ginny on
the shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Ginny. We won’t let you down.”
Ginny just nodded and slowly sat back from Hermione’s sheltering embrace, her
hands rising to swipe the tears from her face. Sniffling quietly, the fiery red
head took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“Well, that was interesting. Who’s next?”
Hermione laughed a little and returned to her seat.
“I’m the last one. Hit me with your best shot, Doc.”
Eyeing the bushy haired witch with a quizzical expression, Healer Monroe
finally gave in and asked since he wasn’t sure what she meant by that
statement.
“Excuse me, Miss Granger? I’m to do what?”
Giggling merrily over the look on the older wizard’s face, Hermione shook her
head and catalogued it for future reference.
“It’s a muggle saying that means ‘say what you need to say’, among other
things.”
“Oh. Alright, then.” Octavius picked up Hermione’s parchment and sighed. “You
have the expected compulsion regarding quite a few events, like Mr. Weasley,
but yours is far stronger than I might have expected. You are also under the
effects of deteriorating loyalty and trust compulsions. I’m not sure what is
causing them to break down, but they are doing so, which makes them that much
easier to remove.”
“Harry is going to blow up his house over this one,” Ginny muttered just loud
enough for everyone present to hear her. “I just wish I could be there to see
the looks on the…those muggles faces when it happens.”
“That or he’ll freeze everyone out. Either way, it would be entertaining as
long as it isn’t us he’s freezing out,” Hermione pointed out. “Can you teach us
the detection spell, or is there a less complex one that will focus on
compulsions and obliviation since that seems to be the biggest problem between
the lot of us?”
“I can teach you the full spell if you like, but it is easier and less costly
on your magic to narrow the types of spells it searches for. The incantation is
simple enough, the short version being Acclaro obliviosus iugum. Ready for the
wand movement?” At Hermione, Ginny and Neville’s nod, he demonstrated and spent
several minutes correcting their execution before smiling his satisfaction.
“That should give you some sense of security and an early warning system of
sorts. Now, how much longer do you think the bunch of you can stay today? The
removal of the compulsion charms could take a while and I’d rather avoid being
interrupted.”
“Hermione is staying with us at the Burrow for the summer and Mum knows we’re
all here, so she should be fine with however long it takes. How about you two?”
Ron directed his question at Neville and Luna.
“I told Gran I was coming up here to visit Mom and Dad and that I would
probably be talking to a Mind Healer, so she expects to see me when I get home
as long as it’s before dark,” Neville replied with a little grin. “No hurry
with me, either.”
“Dad knows where I am and why. Take your time,” Luna pronounced with a quirky
little grin.
Octavius started with Ginny because the charms were the most complex and had
the highest amount of power put into them. Using several interesting looking
crystal devices and a great deal of complex spell work, the next half hour
passed in a blur for the Mind Healer.
Finally, he felt the spells unravelling and attacked them with renewed vigour,
his triumphant cry eliciting a round of laughter from the fascinated and
stressed teens. Slumping in his seat, he threw mock glares at them for their
laughter.
“You should try getting through these spells before you laugh. Merlin’s beard,
whoever cast those spells meant you to never think about these events again,
let alone talk about them to anyone.” He sighed explosively and took a small
sip of a pepper-up potion.
“How do you feel, Miss Weasley?”
“I would very much like to go hide somewhere and cry for a month, but I’ll be
okay until I get home,” Ginny whispered, tears already tracking down her pretty
face despite her brave statement. “Just get these things off of my friends so
we can talk about what we’ve all been through together.”
Octavius nodded solemnly and refocused on the remaining four teens. Centring
himself, he went to work on each compulsion in turn, pausing only to take the
occasional sip of restorative potion. It was important for these young people
to be able to share their experiences with each other and he’d be damned if he
as going to let anything get in the way of that healing process – a healing
that was obviously too long denied already.
“Done with that,” he croaked out after another hour plus of steady spell work.
Clearing his throat, he sighed and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Damn, I need
a drink…”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done, Healer Monroe.” Neville nodded his
acknowledgement.
“You are quite welcome, Mr. Longbottom. Now, on to something that should be
very important to all of you.” Octavius shifted to sit up straight in his chair
despite his exhaustion. “All of you have suffered at least one severe emotional
trauma in recent time and have been given no help in dealing with the problems
that can arise. Have any of you spoken to someone about the events at the
Ministry, besides Ronald of course?”
Seeing only negative answers, he sighed and shook his head.
“All of you could have died and several of you experienced losing Mr. Black
through the Veil, so it is understandable that you have not spoken of it. A
combat situation like what you experienced at the Ministry is one example where
aurors would be required to visit a mind healer.” Healer Monroe smiled. “It may
take several visits for all of you to work through how these events have
affected you and I do need to spend some time working with Neville, as well, so
why don’t we keep this simple.”
“Simple, sir?” Ron asked cautiously.
“Yes,” Octavius replied with a wink. “Simple. All of you should have been sent
to me, anyway, and I recommend group sessions to speed your recovery. As
tightly knit as you are, it might not work any other way.”
“Of course,” Hermione whispered. “Post-traumatic stress…we should have had
counselling like this in first year and second year…”
“Try every year,” Ginny joked half-heartedly. “It will be good to get it out in
the open.”
“Excellent.” Filing away the other references the teens had made for future
sessions, Octavius made a mental note to definitely update some notes in their
files. “When are the best days for the lot of you to come in together?”
“Any days seem to be good right now,” Ron mused. “Can we keep my usual days?
Mondays and Wednesdays?”
“I’ll mark it down on my calendar and see you all again on Wednesday, then.
Please let your erstwhile leader know that I am available to him if he needs a
Mind healer to speak with or if he needs help with problems like your own.”
 
July_8th,_#_4_Privet_Drive
 
“Yous Granger is calling. Dobby will be right back, Master Harry. Is there
anything yous needs while Dobby is out?”
“No, I think I’m okay for now, Dobby. I’ll probably start in on those goblin
books that Griphook sent over in the satchel. Go find out what Hermione wants.”
True to his word, Harry dragged out the first of the large tomes and examined
the heavy leather cover.
“Goblins: From the Outside Looking In by Ambrosius Reginald Evans. I wonder…”
His musings were temporarily cut of as his eyes continued to read through an
inscription just below the author’s name. Recognizing it as a spell just as he
finished reading it to himself, Harry felt a tingle rush across his skin.
Cursing his possible stupidity, he blinked – the inscription was gone. Now he
was wary of the books, but since he didn’t feel ill or hurt, so he decided to
be more careful with the rest of the books and opened the cover.
“So much for Constant Vigilance, eh? Oh well, I won’t find anything out if I
don’t take a chance…”
 
Dobby returned to find his young master deeply engrossed in a large book.
Marvelling at how much faster than usual he seemed to be reading, the little
elf just watched for a few minutes before attempting to get Harry’s attention.
“Master Harry, sir?”
“Hmmm?”
“Dobby has a letter for you from yous Granger and yous friends. It is on the
bed beside you. Dinner will be ready a little later.” The little elf cocked his
head to one side when Harry raised his head to look at him with intensely
focused green eyes. “Is you well, Master Harry?”
“I feel fine, Dobby. Just let me know when you arrive with dinner if I’m still
reading. Thank you for picking up the letter from the gang.” Reluctantly
putting the book on goblin culture aside, Harry picked up the letter from his
friends and began to read.
 
Harry,
It’s Thursday the 4th and I’ve done some research on mind control spells. I am
simply horrified at the sheer number of spells… Luna says its the nature of
humans to control the world around them, including their fellow man and I know
she’s right, but it still upsets me.
I couldn’t have found every single spell of this type, even with Bill finding
books for me. I just don’t want to believe it’s that long of a list. Yes, I
know Bill is an Order member, but please don’t get upset about my asking him
for help. I told him I was doing an extra credit report for Advanced Charms and
that I had gotten the idea from Professor Moody’s demonstrations in fourth year
Defence Class. He didn’t ask any more questions and seemed to think it was a
good subject since the Ministry needs talented Obliviators.
 
Harry chuckled over that. Who would question the idea of Hermione doing extra
credit work, no matter how unusual the subject matter might seem? He didn’t
like that she had involved Bill, but she seemed to have needed his help, so he
supposed it was okay. He’d bring it up once he had the chance to talk to her
face to face.
 
Ron spoke with Healer Monroe about you dream as a hypothetical situation and
found out that it is fairly common for a focused mind, like that found in a
practitioner of Occulemency, to have such a representation of the wizard’s
inner core and mind. It sounds like Voldemort told you the truth and that
worries me more than the other things he’s done. What does he gain by helping
you?
 
I hear you, ‘Mione. It’s scary because Dumbledore should be the one telling me
the truth, but he isn’t. It’s my mortal enemy who tells me the truth. It’s my
enemy who encourages me to do better…He sighed his frustration and shrugged it
off for now. I guess the work I did do on Occulemency did some good after all.
 
The bricked up area in the floor is most likely your access to your magical
core, so it’s imperative that you get that unblocked! Windows and other
openings like doors tend to lead to memories and gifts, magical abilities if
you will. To have them blocked with bars and chains and things like that made
the healer think of memory and heritage suppression charms as well obliviation.
I really hope you can get a book on the subject to help you work through
everything.
Healer Monroe also commented on the fact that many magical families, especially
the older ones have special things they are very good at, talents and abilities
that are known to belong to that bloodline and as an example, Parseltongue is a
very rare and selective Blood Trait. Only one bloodline is known to manifest it
reliably and I’ll give you three guesses which line that is, but the first two
guesses don’t count.
 
Yeah, only one bloodline – Slytherin’s. Except, I’m not blood related to
Slytherin, so I must be the exception to yet another so called rule. Harry
groaned and continued reading.
 
Okay that’s all for now. I’ll finish this once we’ve all gone to visit with the
mind Healer. Ron trusts him and I am hoping he can shed some light on a few
subjects.
Okay, it’s Monday the 8th and we’ve all just gotten back from talking with the
healer. I’m only going to put my comments down because the rest want to add
notes, too.
I was under a compulsion to not talk about events that happened in our various
adventures and also had a trust and loyalty charm placed on me. Healer Monroe
isn’t sure why, but those charms were deteriorating for some reason. He removed
them and I can’t express with words how much better it feels to be able to
discuss the things we’ve been through. Oh! He also has us coming back as a
group for trauma and stress counselling. I wish you could be there with us,
Harry. Hey…!
 
Hey mate!
It’s Ron, if you hadn’t guessed. ‘Mione didn’t want to give up the quill, but I
promised to give it back in a while. The spells to keep us quiet are gone and
Healer Monroe has us all coming in to work through the ‘trauma’. I suppose it
can’t hurt.
He said to tell you he’s available if you need to talk to a Mind Healer or if
you need help with those spells that are on you still. Ginny wants the quill,
so I’ll write more later on.
 
Making mental note of the healer’s name, Harry filed the offer away for future
consideration. After everything he’d been through, it probably wouldn’t hurt to
go talk to a healer at some point.
 
It’s so weird, Harry! I couldn’t even think about Tom and the Chamber before
this afternoon…and now it’s all there, fresh and brand new practically. If…when
we see each other next, can we…can we sit down and talk. About the Chamber and
Tom, I mean…No one else can understand what happened like you can. You and I
are the only ones who have lived through something like this…
Try not to blow up about all this, Harry. We’ll get whoever did it, even if it
is Dumbledore, and we’ll do it TOGETHER.
I hope you’re doing okay, as okay as you can be around those people. Write back
soon!
Ginny
 
Stunned, the teenager just sat there and reread that small paragraph a few
times before the words finally began to sink in. As much as he wanted to focus
on the events of the Chamber, it was still difficult and not very clear.
“That’s one I really need to work on,” he muttered to himself. How could I have
not noticed that I didn’t think about those things unless I had no choice?
 
Hi Harry, Neville here. Healer Monroe says he may be able to lessen some of the
effects of Lockhart’s obliviation but he refuses to let me get my hopes up
until he manages some progress , so I think I can live with that.
How are you doing? Keep your spirits up. Luna swears you’ll Awaken this
birthday and that’s a really big deal for us wizards, so I hope it happens. If
you need any information on what to expect from your Maturity, send Dobby and
I’ll lend you a book about it. Later.
 
Neville’s right, Harry. Your aura was turning all sorts of pretty colours by
the time school let out and it was getting brighter every day. You should have
a powerful maturity, so make sure you read up on it and Twisted Claw
Niblumpers, too.
Luna
 
Laughing harder than he’d laughed in weeks, Harry shook his head at Luna’s well
meant warning about a strange creature that only she was aware of. He sighed
and decided to take Neville up on the offered book loan. He had at least one
book on the subject stashed in his new trunk, but Neville’s might have
different information in it. He knew that Luna tended to be an odd girl, but
she saw the world through different eyes. If she said he was going to have his
magical maturity on his birthday, then he’d take her word for it until nothing
happened.
“Good old Luna…”
 
Sweet Merlin, Harry! I didn’t think I was ever going to get my quill back! I
thought a group letter would be practical since we’re all here, but my
goodness…let us know if there is something we can do to help or if you need
anything. I know our reach is limited, but we’ll do what we can. It’s not like
we’re doing anything besides homework and de-gnoming the yard anyway.
Stay healthy and as safe as you can!
Hermione
 
Reading back through the letter again, Harry smiled to himself and felt a
little bad about his resentful thoughts a few days prior. It wasn’t their fault
he was stuck where he was. Debating on how to reply, he vacillated between
short, individual letters and one mass reply. Seeing as they had written him
one big letter, he figured that should work for a reply, too.
 
Hello everyone!
A group letter gets big, long little bits to everyone reply! Thanks for finding
out what you did about the room from my dream. As disturbing as it is to know
that Tom is telling me the truth about things like that, I am still glad to
know about it. Hermione would be the first to tell me that knowledge is power
and knowledge is the only way to survive this war we’re stuck in.
I have managed to clear out a lot of the spells on the walls in the room, but
it was your letter that let me focus on some of the more resistant spells. I
had no idea that I couldn’t talk about second year…I still can’t talk about
several things, but I’m working on getting through the mess. I have my core
opened up about halfway, and I pick away at it every day.
Yes, Ginny, I would like to sit down and talk about what happened with Tom and
all of that. It would probably help both of us a lot and it might help everyone
else understand if they know what happened.
Dobby mentioned that I was going to be growing into my power soon, so I think
Luna may be right about whatever this Awakening is. I have a book on Magical
Maturity, but I will be sending Dobby by to borrow that book, if you don’t
mind, Nev. I’d rather have too much information than not enough. Tell Luna I’ll
keep an eye out for the Twisted Claw Niblumpers, too.
Please send my thanks to Healer Monroe, both for what he is doing for you guys,
and for his offer to help me. Once I get the chance to move around more freely,
I intend to drop in for a chat. It certainly couldn’t hurt anymore than trying
to work through things on my own.
I don’t know what you guys have access to, but it might be helpful to know more
about Fudge and what he’s up to. We all know he’s going to come after me, or
even all of us, so it would be nice to be able to shoot back for once. Also
think about what you might want to learn in the DA. Our luck with DADA teachers
is so wretched that I doubt this year will be much better than last, so we
might as well keep ourselves ready. Thanks again for everything.
Harry
 
Rolling up his reply, Harry tied it closed and set it aside for Dobby to
deliver whenever he return with dinner. Picking up the book on goblin culture
once again, he smiled and began to read. The style was easy to follow and
intensely engaging, making him wonder how the author came to know so much about
the goblins.
“Why couldn’t Binns have used a book like this for the section on goblin
culture? This, I’d have stayed awake for.” Laughing a little, he was soon
engrossed in the tome and lost sense of everything but the subject at hand. One
passage caught his attention and he filed it away in case he ever landed in a
similar situation.
 
…Goblins are fiercely devoted to their mates and it is considered very bad form
for a non-goblin male to address a married female in any way beyond a silent
nod or possibly a slight bow. On one visit to the lower caverns, I was
accompanied by a companion who did not heed my repeated warnings on this
subject. He insisted upon trying to speak to the wife of the elder who was our
guide and after being warned away, made the gravest error in trying to touch
her to get her attention. His carcass is still adorning a pike somewhere in the
common square, of this I am certain…
 
Whistling quietly to himself, Harry shook his head and read on, only to find
himself at the end of the first book. Grinning his triumph, small though it
might be, he set it down on the bed and stretched in the waning light.
Have I been reading that long? Dobby should be here soon…
No sooner had he thought the little elf’s name did Dobby appear with a tray
loaded with his favourite foods and a small pitcher of pumpkin juice.
“Hi, Dobby. I didn’t think I’d read that long. Dinner smells good.”
“Yous is welcome, Master Harry. Was it being a good book?” Dobby asked as he
set the tray up on the small table he used for meals. The young wizard seemed
to be in better spirits today and that observation made the little elf smile.
“Yeah, it was very good. A lot of things the goblins do make more sense now,
and I’m hoping the rest of the books are this easy to read. They were written
by an Evans and I kind of wonder if he might have been some distant relation to
my mum’s family.”
“It is good that they is helping you understand the goblins. Maybe you should
be asking Mister Griphook about this Mister Evans. Maybe hims would know,” the
elf suggested. “You read yous goblin mail today?”
“I read it and put my replies in the mail pouch.”
“Eat yous dinner then, and Dobby will check to see if you has any more goblin
mail.”
Harry started in on his meal with teenage enthusiasm, though he doubted he’d be
able to finish the large meal his elfin friend had prepared for him. He frowned
when Dobby simply opened the mail pouch and pulled out a couple pieces of
folded parchment.
“They send and receive mail just with the pouch? I thought it was just an extra
secure way for you to carry Gringotts mail.”
“This way is being better than owl post and safer, too. No wizard can stops you
from getting important mail this way. See, yous has goblin mail.” Dobby toddled
over and handed Harry the letter, then caught sight of the new roll of
parchment bearing Hermione’s name.
“Would yous like Dobby to deliver this to yous Granger when Dobby leaves for
the evening?”
“That would be great. Looks like I’ll be reading more Gringotts mail today.
It’s been a busy week for it.” Harry laughed a little. “Okay, it’s been a busy
week for me. I’m not used to getting this much mail in a month, let alone a
week.”
“Yous will get used to it, Master Harry.”
 
Pulling the little stand that he used as a nightstand over to him, Harry opened
the first of his latest letters from Gringotts with no small amount of
trepidation. Every time he opened one of these notes, he found out something
else he’d been lied to about or read something he figured he could have done
without knowing.
 
Mr. Harry James Potter,
Due to the information provided by you in your most recent correspondence,
President Ragnok has ordered a full audit of the Potter Will and Estate. In
conjunction with the audit of your accounts, we at Gringotts will also be
auditing the accounts of your magical guardian, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian
Dumbledore.
The purpose of these audits is to ensure the security of your accounts and to
bring to light any further misconduct on the part of your magical guardian that
exceeds the denial to you of your mail and knowledge of your heritage and
financial status.
It is also my duty as the Potter Estate Manager to inform you that Head Master
Dumbledore’s information and access rights in regards to your accounts have
been suspended due to gross breach of conduct as a guardian. Because of the
nature of the infractions and to protect your interests, Head Master Dumbledore
will only be notified of the audit on his accounts unless you, as the wronged
party, deem it appropriate to pursue further due process.
Please forward any questions or concerns you may have on this matter to my
attention so that I may address them immediately.
Potter Estate Account Manager,
Griphook
 
Dumbfounded by the contents of the parchment in front of him, Harry sat and
stared at the letter as if willing it to sink into his mind. Shaking himself
after several minutes of silence, he read the letter again and began to smile.
He had honestly had no idea how much personal benefit he would gain from
approaching the goblins for assistance, and even though he had only just begun
to read about their culture, Harry had a much better comprehension of just how
far the goblins would go to ensure the safety and security of his accounts.
The second letter was more of a note and the subject made his chest tight. He
hadn’t expected a response to his questions about the truth of Sirius’ death –
he had simply needed to vent off the grief and frustration he was feeling at
the time. Apparently Griphook had taken the questions in the serious bent that
all goblins seemed to take on when discussing death or combat.
 
Mr. Potter,
 
Your concerns regarding your Godfather’s will are perfectly understandable and
I have in no way taken offence to your inquiry. This loss is difficult for you
to accept, and is made more so through the lack of physical proof that you
would have had under ‘normal’ circumstances.
All wills written at Gringotts are charmed with a connection to the life
signature of the subject of said document. Until such time as the person dies,
the will cannot be accessed by anyone other than the subject who requisitioned
it. When the connection between the spirit and the physical body is broken, the
will appears to the appropriate Account Manager for execution.
I offer my condolences yet again and hope that this information helps you in
your time of grieving.
Potter Estate Account Manager,
Griphook
 
“So you’re really gone, huh, Padfoot? Really gone…” Shaking his head as if to
clear it, Harry scrubbed at his eyes, but he had no more tears to rub away. The
confirmation that his Godfather was indeed gone was the closure, the
confirmation, that he had been craving. Now he could stop looking out the
window every time he heard a familiar sounding bark or a knock at the door. He
could move on.
“Enough goblin stuff for one day,” he mused. “Let’s find something different
for a change. If I look at any more school books in the next day or so, I think
I’m going to Incendio them, too.”
 
Eyeballing his old school trunk, he opened it and lifted his shrunken trunk out
before fingering the wand he had chosen as his own.
“Might as well give it a shot,” he mused into the air. “What’s the worst they
can do? Expel me? I’m thinking that might not be so bad…” Performing the
appropriate wand movements, Harry quietly called out the incantation to enlarge
the trunk. “Engorgio!”
The trunk returned to its original size so quickly that Harry wasn’t sure what
to think. That spell had always seemed to have an effect that was visible – you
could watch the trunk get bigger. The amount of magic he had felt answering his
quiet call had been many times more than what he was accustomed to as well. As
a point in fact, he couldn’t recall ever feeling his magic before acquiring
this wand.
“That’s some wand,” he whispered and actually looked at the trunk. Grinning in
his usual lopsided manner, he nodded appreciatively. Dobby had picked a trunk
that very closely resembled a school trunk, even down to its scuffed exterior.
He opened it to the first compartment and blinked. This wasn’t a compartment.
This was a small library complete with bookshelves. Shifting to drop in, he was
startled by the appearance of a simple set of stairs.
“Brilliant”
Descending cautiously down the narrow stairs, he immediately focused on the
curiosity inspiring crate that Dobby had filched from Borgin and Burkes.
Forcing himself to ignore it for now, he went to the full bookshelves and
looked through what he had available to study beyond his five years worth of
school books. Until he received his O.W.L. scores, he wouldn’t know what to
expect from the coming year. He pulled ‘Occulemency: Fortress of the Mind’ off
the shelf and crossed the small room to lay it by the stairs.
Taking a deep breath, he then allowed his focus to return to that ever so
tempting crate. Unsure if it was the fact that he knew it contained dark books
and objects or if it was simply something he had been told time and again that
he shouldn’t have, he took a large measure of guilty pleasure in opening the
crate back up and pulling its contents out for inspection.
“The seductive caress of twilight,” the teen whispered, then shivered at the
overly appropriate tone of the statement. He had unloaded and shelved twenty
large, very old looking tomes before he came to five that quite literally took
his breath away.
Covered in what appeared to be a dark green hide of some sort, the large
volumes were decorated with ornate silver trim and locked with what appeared to
be silver serpents. The large, calligraphy S on the front cover gave him the
final hint prior to the disgruntled hissing that issued forth from the serpent
lock.
//Unhand me or I will bite you, fool!// the indignant hissing paused. //Oh, why
bother…can’t understand me anyway…//
//You’re beautiful,// Harry hissed back. //if you truly want me to put you
down, I will.//
//A Speaker! A polite one, too! It has been so long since I was able to speak
to someone other than my brothers.// The silver snake studied Harry with an
unnerving intensity before relenting. //Little Salazar…you look like my Master,
except as he might have as a boy…you wish to read my Master’s journals, yesss?/
/
//I would be honoured to have the chance to read them,// Harry agreed.
//Then I will key the journals to you. To do this I have to bite you.// The
serpent struck without further ado, holding on only long enough to sample the
young wizard’s blood before hissing it’s satisfaction. All five journals glowed
briefly before returning to their original state. The lock clicked open quietly
on the journal that Harry held in his hands.
“Okayyy…” The simple act of being keyed in to the journals reminded Harry of
just how utterly clueless he still was about the magical world. Beyond the
concept of Constant Vigilance, he simply had no idea what was truly safe for
him to do. He had a pretty good grasp on what was dangerous, but even that was
limited. “Oh well, I guess that settles that. I am the proud owner of five of
Salazar Slytherin’s journals.”
Opening the journal to see what sort of information he might find, Harry
frowned at the page full of squiggles that seemed to writhe for a moment before
resolving themselves into something his mind understood as English.
//Parseltongue writing! Brilliant!//
Shaking himself out of his daze, he quickly shelved the journals and closed the
crate. He didn’t know how much longer he had before Mad-Eye arrived and he
didn’t dare allow himself to be seen emerging from the trunk. Grabbing his book
on Occulemency, he climbed out, deposited his wand inside and closed it up.
Muttering the shrinking charm, he replaced the new trunk inside his old one and
glanced over at the time. The guard would change in a half hour, so he had time
to relax before anyone like Mad-Eye was around to snoop on him. He relaxed
visibly when a quick look around the room showed no letters from the Improper
Use of Magic Office.
Dropping onto his bed to read for a while, Harry smiled to himself. This being
able to do magic thing could really grow on me, he decided.
 
Coming on duty as the last sunlight faded from the sky, Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody
did a thorough scan of the Dursley residence, his magical eye focusing on the
Potter boy for a long moment before moving on once he saw that there was no
wand on his person. He didn’t care for Albus’ idea of disarming the boy for the
summer, but he didn’t see much point in arguing. All he ever seemed to do was
read and work on his homework, anyway.
A slightly malicious grin curved his lips and twisted his scarred face.
Wandless or not, maybe he would test the boy out when he was in the garden, see
if he was as quick as Shacklebolt had claimed. That would mean getting himself
moved to the day shift, but it might just be worth it.
“If you’re going to be getting away from aurors, then you’ll be doing it
right,” he whispered. “No more getting caught once I’m done with your skinny
self, humph.”
 
Translations:
Oc Dager - Goblin for Young Warrior
Sheklac - Goblin for Chieftain
Acclaro obliviosus iugum obligatio oppressos - Reveal obliviation, bindings,
bonds and oppression of will
***** Adventures of the mind *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run.
Will contain het/slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Pairing: None currently.
 
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J. K. Rowling's characters. Pity, that...
 
// Parseltongue //
Thoughts & Mindspeech
Letters, etc.
 
AN: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. Your thoughts
and interest are very important to me. Thanks again!
 
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
 
 
July_9th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
"Clear your mind," Harry breathed, the irony of his own words not lost on him
in regards to this exercise. Practicing meditation as directed by his book on
Occulemency, he relaxed and visualized his rudimentary shields before starting
the process of building them up layer by layer.
Dobby watched his master focus more and more on the defences of his mind and
kept his own senses open for the arrival of other wizards who might disturb the
young man.
Drawn deep into a trance when he accessed his magical core and the room that
represented it in his mind, Harry winced at how cluttered and down right messy
his thinking was. No wonder I have trouble remembering things half the time. If
this was a real room, I wouldn't be sure where to look first.
How to do this, he mused, and recalled from the book that the more uniquely
personal the concept for his construct was, the more defensible his mind would
be. Grinning wickedly, he began the laborious process of organizing his
thoughts and memories into categories using a filing and labelling system
comprehensible only to himself, Tom and perhaps a few other rare individuals in
the world. Everything was labelled using parseltongue; nothing would retain an
English designation, including the memories themselves if he had his way about
it.
Seeing the sweat break out on his young master's brow, Dobby moved forward and
conjured a cloth to dry the dampness away.
Alerted to his flagging energy levels by Dobby's gentle touch, Harry opened
weary green eyes and smiled crookedly.
"That's hard work, Dobby. I had no idea how much effort went into serious
Occulemency."
"Is you being okay, Master Harry?"
"Yeah, I'm just tired." The young wizard sighed and stretched until his back
popped loudly in the quiet room. "I have a question, Dobby."
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"I'm only curious, okay, but this is something I've been wondering about. Why
do you call me Master when you don't have to? I'd rather you just called me
Harry."
"Dobby knew yous would be asking about that eventually," the little elf
whispered, eyes sad and full of the anticipation of punishment. "Around other
wizards who is not needing to be knowing, Dobby is not calling you Master
because it would be giving up Master's secrets. Dobby is most settled calling
yous Master, Harry Potter, sir. Is being...unsettling not to."
"Oh...well, then we'll leave well enough alone, I guess," Harry mused aloud. He
hadn't realized it might make Dobby uncomfortable to call him by his first name
alone. "I'm used to it and I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable. Thank you
for explaining." He smiled at the eccentric little elf.
"Oh, the Great Harry Potter is the kindest master!" The elf hugged Harry around
the waist, and then bounced away. "Yous is hungry. Dobby will return."
Shaking his head over the elf's antics, Harry considered what to study now. He
wanted to continue with the Goblin books, but hadn't confirmed if they were
safe.
"No time like the present," he stated and penned a quick note to Griphook.
Rereading it to make sure it covered everything, he folded it closed and
addressed it to his account manager. Placing it in the mail pouch, he looked
over at his desk and blanched when he saw Hedwig's empty cage.
I've barely paid her any mind over this last week...I owe her some serious
time, he thought to himself and relaxed when he recalled that he had spent some
time with her the last time she returned from a night of hunting. It wasn't
like he had a lot of mail for her to deliver. One quick note to the Order every
three days was barely enough of a task to be called exercise for the snowy owl.
"It'll get better soon," he whispered into the air. "It has to."
 
July_9th,_Gringotts
Griphook pulled the latest letter from the Potter Heir out of his In Box and
wondered what fresh bit of chaos it would unleash. He opened it with a true
sense of anticipation.
 
Mister Griphook,
The books you sent me are very interesting and informative. I have finished the
first one and have a question regarding something I discovered on the cover.
 
The goblin licked his thin lips and read on. There were only a few things the
young wizard could be referring to, and he hoped his thoughts on the matter
were correct.
 
Below the author's name was a line of Latin that I didn't realize was a spell
until I was compelled to finish reading it. Were you aware of this unexpected
feature? If so, I would really appreciate knowing what it did to me and what I
can expect before I read on through the rest of the books.
Intrigued but wary,
Harry James Potter
 
Griphook sagged in his seat for a long moment, and then began to grin his
delight as he reread the short note and let the words sink in. He sent a quick
note to Ragnok letting him know what had transpired along with a promise to
update him as soon as he knew more and then replied to Harry's query.
 
Mr. Harry James Potter,
Please allow me to offer my sincerest apologies. I did not mention the spells
because they can only be viewed by a blood descendent of the late Lord Evans
and our information did not indicate a connection between yourself and the
wizarding Evans line. Congratulations on locating a confirmed relation.
The spell on the first volume is to increase your reading speed to match that
of your current retention level; as your ability to retain knowledge increases,
so too will your reading speed. The second spell is designed to enhance your
retention, the third to enhance comprehension, the fourth to enhance your
ability to recall information and the fifth is designed to enhance your mental
focus.
The sixth book is a bit more than the other five. If your are just a descendent
of Lord Evans, that volume will have no special spells or information beyond
the magic it can teach you. If you are the heir to Lord Evans' title, there
should be a letter at the beginning of the book. As there as yet to be an
accepted Heir, I do not know of its contents.
If, after reading through the series of books in their proper order, you do
discover the letter, please notify me as soon as reasonably possible. I can
then arrange for any additional will readings that may apply to your situation.
Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns you may have.
Potter Estate Account Manager,
Griphook
 
Amazed yet again by everything that seemed to happen to the Chosen, he sent the
letter off to Harry's mail pouch and settled in to eagerly wait for whatever
his next revelation would bring.
 
If most wizards found the sight of a happily grinning Goblin to be a frightful
sight, then the unmitigated glee on Chieftain Ragnok's face would have inspired
nothing short of pure terror. He read Griphook's latest news again and chuckled
wickedly.
"Finally, we have a descendent of Lord Evans. It has been far too long."
Putting the note aside for safe keeping, Ragnok picked up his quill and wrote a
short reply to the young Potter Estate manager.
 
Oc Dager Griphook,
As is the norm of late, you are the bearer of interesting news. Keep up the
good work. In regards to the Evans' issue, compile all information that we have
readily available on the Potter and Evans inheritances. Be prepared to present
this information to the Chosen when he arrives for his private will readings.
Sheklac Ragnok
 
 
July_9th,_The_Burrow
Sitting outside, back to her favourite oak tree and her head on Hermione's
shoulder, Ginny smiled tremulously. They were all gathered together again to
talk about the events of the last four or five years and, in the bright light
of day, it seemed so very surreal to think of what she - and they - had been
through.
"Lucius Malfoy is the one who slipped Tom's diary into my school books, you
know."
"Oh, no! How did he manage to do that with every one around?" Hermione asked;
she hugged Ginny reassuringly, her eyes widening as she considered the
possibilities.
"He slipped it inside one of my books, transfiguration I think. I didn't even
notice it until we got home, and I'd always wanted to keep a journal...so I
kept it and started to write in it at school..."
"He dropped it in your stuff around the time that he picked that fight with
Dad, I bet," Ron commented. "I can still see the look on that big prat's face
in my head, that moment right around the time Dad punched the bloody Death
Eater right on the nose...I was so proud of him for that."
Ginny nodded silent agreement and continued on with her retelling - if she
could just get it out, maybe it wouldn't feel so heavy and dark inside of her.
"My first year started off hard, anyway. I was the youngest and I felt so
alone. The crush I had on Harry didn't help matters any, especially since he
was too clueless to even notice me at the time." She sighed expressively. "So,
I started to talk to Tom more and more and he was so understanding and sweet to
me." Ginny blushed lightly.
"He listened to everything I had to say, no matter how silly, and I had never
had someone do that for me before...I poured more and more of myself into
writing to him, and then things started to happen..."
"The roosters, the petrified students, the messages on the walls," Hermione
whispered. "You must have been scared half to death; having him inside your
mind like that...did you know...were you aware of what was happening when he
was making you do things?"
"Sometimes I could see everything, sometimes I thought I was sleep walking. I'd
get ready for bed and pick up the diary to write, then I'd wake up and be
outside behind Hagrid's hut with blood on my hands or down in Moaning Myrtle's
bathroom," Ginny murmured. "Towards the end, I saw more and more and I tried to
tell someone but He wouldn't let me. By the time Harry woke me in the Chamber,
I...I almost didn't care anymore. Tom made me do such awful things..."
Her body shook as the tears made their way out and carried her pain, her fear
and her frustration out with them. Sucking in great gulps of air, a wounded
sound accompanied every wracking sob until she was simply too exhausted to cry
any more. Slowly becoming aware of the hands rubbing soothing circles on her
back and of the sniffling of the others around her, she opened her eyes and
tried to smile for them.
"We're here for you, Ginny," Neville assured the distraught girl, his face
tracked with tears of his own. "You're not alone, no matter how much you may
feel that way some times. We stick together."
"Thanks, Nev...all of you..." Ginny sat back up and scrubbed at her face before
returning to her original position with her head on Hermione's shoulder. "So,
what were you guys supposed to not talk about?"
"The troll in the girl's bathroom, the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of
Secrets, Norbert, Buckbeak," Ron rattled off with a wry grin. "We've gotten
into and out of so much trouble and we've done so many things together, it's no
wonder we're such good friends."
"Hermione hit me with Petrificus totalus to keep me from trying to stop them
from going after the Stone," Neville related with a light blush. "I think that
was the first brave thing I ever did...um, anyway, the other thing was Harry's
Patronus. I don't know why that would be something to keep quiet about, but
there you go."
"That sure was some Patronus, though," Ron agreed with a gleeful grin and
thought back to the Quidditch match where Harry used it against Malfoy and his
goons when they were dressed as Dementors. "It was brilliant! I think Malfoy
pissed himself when he saw that bloody big Stag come charging down at him."
"You have no idea," Hermione muttered, then flushed when all eyes focused on
her with intense curiosity. "Um, Ron was in the Hospital Wing for that part of
our adventures in third year. Harry and I used a time turner to go back in time
a few hours and rescue Buckbeak and Sirius. I was there watching when Harry
sent his Patronus across the lake to save the earlier us. I've never...there
were so many Dementors I couldn't count them all and he drove them all away..."
She shivered at the memory of cold numbness and a weakness she hoped to never
feel again. "It was terrible and beautiful all at the same time."
Neville squeaked, eye wide as he goggled at Hermione. He barely registered the
hand that was now rubbing his back.
Luna smiled dreamily and kept up her soothing action.
"A corporeal patronus requires a truly joyful memory, one full of Light.
Imagine what he must have been thinking of at the time."
"I'll have to ask him sometime," Hermione stated once she'd recovered her
wavering composure. "It seems like most of us were made to keep quiet about the
same things. That just bugs me even more. I mean, most of what we were made to
keep quiet about doesn't seem to be that terribly important. Some of it was, of
course, but..."
"Well, strategically, it makes the most sense of anything we've encountered so
far," Ron muttered, brown eyes focused internally while he thought it out. "We,
as a group, knew the largest portion of the facts about quite a few very
sensitive events, so if whoever didn't want the stories to get out was to shut
us up, the stories would die. Rumours starve to death without fodder. I don't
get why they didn't just Obliviate us, though. Then this couldn't happen."
"Maybe there was a future use for the memories," Luna offered. "Or the memories
were too intricate to Obliviate. There is a limit to what that spell is capable
of doing, at least it seems so from what I have seen in Hermione's notes."
Hermione just nodded her agreement on that point and frowned as something else
that had been said rose up again now that she'd had time to process the
conversation so far.
"There is that," she agreed. "Whoever did this to us would have been hurt in
some way if the public gained knowledge of the events that have been going on
at Hogwarts and the danger that the students have been in on a regular basis."
Hermione focused on Ginny and tilted her head to one side, her expression full
of curiosity and more than a little concern.
"Ginny? Did something happen between you and Harry? You stopped acting so cute
and funny around Harry after your first year and with everything that happened,
I would've expected your crush to get worse. He should have been even more
important to you, what with him being your 'Knight in Shining Armour' and all."
"I know you can calm him down when none of us can get through to him, and you
definitely seem to understand him better than just about anyone else does,"
Luna mused quietly. "Do you still have a crush on him?"
"Hey, now! That’s personal." Ron protested and squeezed Ginny's foot gently to
let her know he was there to support her.
"It's okay, Ron. We're all friends." Ginny smiled a little more strongly, then
remembered the question and shivered a little. "Of course I understand him
better than the rest of you. We've both shared Tom's thoughts, we've both been
touched by Him, but no, Merlin no, I definitely do not have a crush on Harry
any more."
"Do you mind if I ask why?" Hugging the younger girl, Hermione ventured her
question cautiously.
"Tom," Ginny whispered and tears slipped down her face again, but this time she
didn't break down completely. Drawing in a ragged breath, she rubbed her cheek
against the older Witch's shoulder and answered quietly.
"The resemblance between them is...it's frightening. Tom was taller at sixteen
than Harry was the last time I saw him, but otherwise, they could have been
mistaken for brothers, they look that similar." She licked her lips delicately.
"When I look into Harry's eyes, Tom is right there looking back at me. I don't
want to see it, but even when I couldn't seem to remember what had happened,
something held me back from him. It's something real, a distance that I can
always feel between us."
"Do you think Harry is like Vol...Vold...You Know Who?" Neville stammered out.
"Harry wouldn't hurt people like that."
"Yeah, no way would he lose it like that," Ron stated firmly.
Ginny giggled madly for several long moments, brown eyes full of amusement,
fear and regret.
"Someone will take the Dark Lord's place eventually. That's how it works, guys.
Pay more attention in History of Magic and you'll see what I mean. Light and
Dark are always opposing each other..." She started to giggle again and then
lapsed back into tears as Hermione rocked her and crooned gently. Her reactions
were earning her some very concerned looks, and she was oblivious to it all.
"Voldemort's bond left its mark on your mind, just like he did with Harry."
Luna scooted closer to add her soothing touch to Hermione's. "You see the
darkness more clearly than we do, Ginny. It is okay to see It. It spent almost
a year looking into you, so you're bound to look back after a while. Just
remember that you're not the only one who has lived through these things. The
ones who love you are out here with you now, in the Light."
"It's so beautiful, y'know?" Ginny relaxed bit by bit. "It's not so harsh and
full of sharp edges the way the light is."
"Stay with us. We don't want to lose you, Gin-Gin." Ron captured his sister's
hand and squeezed to get her to look at him. "We don't want you to get lost in
it. You're the only sister I have..."
"You're so sweet, Ronniekins. Don't worry. I'm not going to float away." Ginny
sighed again and sat up, hands scrubbing at her face.
"Gin...please don't take this the wrong way," Ron began, and hugged Ginny
tightly before drawing back to meet her gaze. He wasn't sure where the words
were coming from, but it felt like something that needed to be said, so he
opened his mouth and let it tumble out. "But...I doubt that Bellatrix Lestrange
started out her first couple years at Hogwarts planning to be the most feared
witch alive. I love you way too much to lose you like that, Sis."
Shocked that Ron of all people would say something like that to her, Ginny just
stared at her brother with her mouth open and tears welling in her eyes. His
words stung sharply and served to focus her attention on what was happening
inside of her own mind more than any of the sympathy had managed to do so far.
She nodded jerkily and burrowed into the safety of his embrace.
"I love you too, Ron. No matter what, please don't let me be like her..."
 
July_9th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Opening up his school trunk and pulling the new one out, Harry muttered
'Engorgio' under his breath. He'd figured out quite by accident that the trunk
was magically triggered to shrink and enlarge on its own with the use of
programmed words, a fact that he could appreciate a lot more now that he spent
so much time wandless.
Descending into his library once he'd opened it, Harry pulled the second Goblin
book off the shelf and grabbed an old spell book to take up along with it. That
way he could swap back and forth between the two without the risk of exposing
his new trunk during an unneeded trip to the Library.
Spying the crate he'd been forced to abandon the last time Mad-Eye had come on
duty, Harry set his books on the stairs and crossed the small room to
investigate anything that might remain in the crate. If he was thinking
correctly, there had been a few items still left in the bottom.
Looking in, he arched an eyebrow inquisitively, and then cursed Mundungus
Fletcher in whatever languages he could think of at the time.
"Bloody thief!" he growled and eyed the glass bottle that appeared to be
stoppered with a carved opal. He recognized that particular item from Grimmauld
Place and, though he was curious about the red liquid it contained, he wasn't
curious enough to open it. "I knew you were stealing from Sirius!"
Moving the glass bottle to the bookshelf that contained the darkest of his
books, Harry then reached in and drew out a locket that hung from a simple but
solid chain. He caught his breath when he really looked at it. It was one of
the things he'd seen when he was helping with the cleaning at Grimmauld Place
and he hadn't recognized it at the time, but after seeing Slytherin's journals,
he knew exactly what it was that he held.
"Slytherin's locket," he whispered reverently. That joined the bottle on its
shelf and he returned to inspect the last remaining pair of items. "Knives?" he
wondered aloud and cautiously touched one of the sheaths. When nothing
happened, he picked them up and admired the beautiful but functional looking
set of blades. Placing them on the shelf below the locket, he smiled to
himself. Maybe I'll find someone who can teach me to use them.
A slight pulse of magic drew Harry's attention away from his contemplation of
the knives that lay on the shelf before him. Retrieving the books he'd chosen,
he climbed out of the trunk and closed everything back up. Laying the books on
his bed, he checked to see if the magic had come from the mail pouch. He
vaguely recalled feeling a similar pulse when he placed a letter inside, so his
curiosity was peaked. Opening the pouch, he found the reply from Griphook.
"That was fast." Reading through the letter, he began to grin, his eyes
brightening with excitement. "Enhancements like that I can definitely deal
with. Brilliant!" He shook his head over the congratulatory comment from
Griphook. All it did was add to the hundreds of questions he already had,
though he did have to admit that part of his excitement came from discovering
part of his history.
Settling on his bed, he dropped the other spell book on the bed beside him and
dragged the second Goblin book into his lap.
 
July_10th,_St._Mungo's,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I hope yesterday wasn't too rough on you
emotionally," Healer Monroe commented as the Ministry crew filtered in and took
their seats. "Breaking the kind of emotional blocks that we encountered can be
very stressful in the days and weeks immediately following the treatment."
"We all talked quite a lot, yesterday," Hermione replied. "It was hard to deal
with some of what we remembered, but it felt good all the same. The biggest
thing, the most painful, is the sense of betrayal. Someone we trusted did this
to us..." She sniffled a little, eyes made shiny by unshed tears.
"We cried a lot yesterday, or at least I did, anyway. I expected to though.
They cried with me for part of it, but most of the time I think they were
crying for me." Ginny frowned and shook her head. "The strangest thing was the
last two nights. I didn't have any bad dreams about dark places and being
cold...about dying. Now that I have the memories back the way they're supposed
to be, I don't feel afraid the same way I did just a few days ago. It used to
be all I could do to go into the dungeons without jumping at shadows. Does that
make any sense at all?" Tears welled up and she swiped at them reflexively.
"I'm tired of crying about this!"
"You have a full years worth of frustration and fear to vent out and the coping
process itself is several years overdue, so yes, it makes perfect sense,"
Octavius murmured soothingly. "The urge, the need, to cry will lessen with time
and support, a thing you all have an abundance of. Your friendship has survived
these traumas. Now, it will help you heal from them."
"Thank Merlin for that," Ginny whispered. "How do you normally help people
through events like this?"
"I use a modified form of Occulemency that allows me to share the memory with
you much like it would be if we used a Pensive, except that I can also see it
through your experience. That way I can better help you deal with what has
happened and move on without denying the existence of the trauma."
"That which doesn't kill us only makes us stronger, right, Doc?" Hermione
grinned a little. "That sounds like an interesting way to approach therapy. It
must cut down on recovery time."
"Amazingly so," Octavius agreed. "We can also quickly eliminate spell related
problems and back lash symptoms. The benefits are too numerous to name."
"Well, let's get started then," Luna declared. "Who's first?"
Ginny laughed genuinely at her friend's antics.
"You, since you're in such a hurry."
Luna just grinned back at Ginny and shrugged.
"That's fine with me. What do I need to do, Healer Monroe?"
"Just relax. We're going to focus on the events that led you to the Ministry
and on through the fight there in the Department of Mysteries..."
Luna gasped softly when Healer Monroe appeared beside her in her memory of the
group's arrival to the atrium at the Ministry.
"Just so you know this isn't where everything began, Healer Monroe. It began at
Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the details of what truly led us here are known only
to Harry. All I know is he was led to believe his Godfather was being held
prisoner in the Hall of Prophecy by Voldemort."
Octavius nodded his understanding. He had been fairly certain that there had to
be critical events leading up to what had happened at the Ministry, but Ron had
been incredibly reticent about discussing it, and he hadn't yet developed
enough of a rapport with the young man to feel comfortable about pushing the
issue.
"Thank you, Miss Lovegood. I appreciate the information. Do you wish to go
further back and review those memories as well?"
"No, I don't need to. I enjoyed riding the Thestral and I wasn't the one who
had a rough time of it at Hogwarts. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny might need to
discuss it more than I." Luna smiled. "Shall we? The Department of Mysteries
was really quite fascinating."
Healer Monroe backed out of the young woman's mind once he'd seen her point of
view on the events that had led to their group being in his office. She was
remarkably unfazed by the combat and everything else that had gone on around
her, a fact that made him shake his head in quiet amazement.
"Well, Miss Lovegood, how are you feeling?"
"I feel great, Healer Monroe. It was really quite nice to be able to show
someone what happened. Talking about it is okay, but it lacks the complete
expression of actually sharing a memory. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome, my dear." Octavius smiled and looked to the other four.
"Anyone else up to taking a look through now? Once I finish with whoever is
next, we'll break for lunch, my treat. When we get back, we can work with the
rest of you. How does that sound?"
 
Mind reeling from everything he had learned that day, Octavius watched five
young people leave his office with a great deal more youthful exuberance to
their steps than they had come in with. He shook his head. This session had
only touched on the events specifically related to the fight at the Department
of Mysteries and he was left feeling slightly in awe of the cohesive teamwork
and loyalty that bound these young men and women together. He, personally, was
exhausted and emotionally wrung out from walking them through their various
personal battles.
Its kind of a pity that none of them got to see Potter duelling Lestrange, he
mused. Ah well, perhaps it's just as well that they didn't. They were in enough
danger without being exposed to her. I have enough work to do getting them back
on a level keel as it is.
Gathering his things, he made his way to the fireplace and flooed to the
Ministry. He had several files to update thanks to today's fruitful session.
 
July_10th,_Unplottable_Location
 
Voldemort studied his followers as they arrived one by one and considered which
ones to elevate to leadership positions for the attacks he had planned. So far,
at least these existing elite had managed to not fall to a handful of school
children. He smirked maliciously. The very thought of how twelve of his Inner
Circle had fallen to his little serpent and followers inspired in him a deep
need to prove his rival incapable of standing against him.
"My loyal followersss," he murmured sibilantly. "In the next few weeks we will
be preparing for our assault on Azkaban prison. It is time to bring your
brothers back to the fold. I'm sure they have learned their lesson for failing
me by now." His gaze moved from one Death Eater to the next as he measured
their ability and decided their fate. "Prepare yourselves. Hone your skills.
There will be Aurors to dispatch and I will be calling the last of the
Dementors into my service."
Aware of his need to swell his ranks and of the rather vexing fact that doing
so would require the use of his Inner Circle to train and prepare the newest
recruits, Tom mused on what to offer the wraiths when he stepped forward to
call the full force of the Dementor ranks to his Battle Standard.
"Once the Auror threat has been eliminated, I will call the Dementors and have
the entirety of the prison released and brought to stand before me. Those too
weak to be of use and those who refuse to join me will be food for the
Dementors and the worms. All others will be marked and trained for the coming
raids and battles."
Studying each Death Eater again, his red eyes noted which ones continued to
stand still, silent and resolute under his penetrating stare and which ones
gave away their weakness by squirming and shifting where they stood.
"Step up your recruiting of like minded wizards and witches and remember to
capture any muggle borns you can during raids. They will be most useful during
the initiations and the revel that will follow our triumphant return from
Azkaban! Now leave me! I have much to plan. Bellatrix, Wormtail. Remain."
The room emptied far more rapidly than it had filled and he snorted quietly
over such a blatant sign of their fear. He watched Bellatrix and Wormtail;
their reverent bows make him smile a little, though it still looked like a
smirk on his thin lipped mouth.
Ever eager to serve her master, and even more eager to make up for her loss of
face at the Ministry, Bellatrix raised her face to gaze at Voldemort with madly
glittering eyes.
"How may I serve you, My Lord?"
"I want to know every rumour and scrap of information you two can find out
about the number of Aurors in place at Azkaban, their shift change schedule,
and any other defences that may have been put in place. Find out if there will
be any prisoner transfers before the end of the month. This attack will happen
in two weeks or less barring any significant transfers that may make it prudent
to hold our strike. Report back to me in one week unless you find significant
information. I need not remind you of the penalties for failure."
"It will be as you command, My Lord," Bellatrix declared and bowed again before
Apparating away.
"Y-yes, my Lord," Wormtail stuttered out, his eyes nearly as mad as
Bellatrix's. He apparated away with a 'crack', leaving Voldemort to contemplate
his next moves in solitude.
 
Retiring to his private study, Voldemort settled in his chair and propped his
booted feet up on the desk as was his habit of late. He knew that the offering
of any too infirm to join his ranks and of those who refused him would serve as
a valid token to the Dementors, but it would in no way be enough to sway them
to his side. To pull them away from their easy feeding grounds he would have to
offer something far more valuable than what they already had.
So I promise them something that will cause me no pain and will instead sow
fear and chaos amongst the rest of those weak minded fools who oppose me, he
mused. The promise of free feeding rights on any witch, wizard or muggle they
can catch except those that I have marked as my own should present them with
the needed incentive to abandon the stale offerings of Azkaban. Those few that
are mine and Harry Potter will be left untouched. My little serpent is just
that - he is mine to deal with as I see fit.
He chuckled to himself, the sound chilling in its malicious tone. When I am
done, Azkaban will stand empty and wizarding Britain will tremble in fear at
the very thought of what I will do next.
 
July_11th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Awakening with the sun as he seemed to be inclined to do lately, Harry decided
to change up his reading for a few hours. He was intrigued by what might lay
waiting in Salazar's journals and settled in to read once he had retrieved the
first one.
Fascinated by the insights into the personality of Salazar and the snapshots of
his interactions with the three other founders of Hogwarts, Harry shook his
head in quiet amazement.
How could anyone think this man was evil? He wondered. It's obvious that he was
more than willing to learn what ever magic came his way, but he sounds like a
very careful and cautious person. Godric sounds more like the type to go out
and get into trouble. Harry laughed when he considered the House he had been
placed in. The Hat would have placed him in Salazar's house, but his own rash
tendencies had blinded to anything except his prejudices against Slytherin. It
really would have been nice to know Salazar...any of them, really. He seemed to
truly admire Helga and Rowena and the way he interacted with Godric sounds a
lot like me and Ron...
He encountered his first section of spells after about an hour of reading. Eyes
wide, he read and re-read the notes for the spells that Slytherin had been
crafting on his own. Some of the spells were very advanced healing magic, but
Harry could already think of several uses for them in combat. Then he reached
Salazar's notes on the subject and blanched. Apparently my thoughts weren't
very original after all...at least I know I can use the healing spells for
harm. Just forget to limit the affects...ouch.
The young wizard shuddered and closed the journal after placing a scrap of
parchment inside to mark his place. He'd had enough of that for now. Laying the
large book beside him, he stretched and glanced at the clock.
"Nine? There's no way I was reading for three hours!" His surprised revere was
broken by the unwelcome sound of his uncle bellowing his name. He groaned, then
got up and trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What do you want,
Vernon?"
"Boy! It's about time you showed your face around here! Get this kitchen clean,
then I have a list of chores waiting for you and I expect them to all be done
today if you plan on eating," Vernon declared pompously, his chest puffed up in
what he thought was an imposing manner.
"I see it didn't take you very long to forget my friend's warning." Harry
glared at Vernon and didn't back down when the large man's face started to go
purple. "I won't be doing any of the chores you assign, Vernon. I will tend the
flower beds and the yard because I enjoy doing so and I need to get outside a
little bit every day. Get Dudley to do the rest of the work. It might actually
do him some good."
"You ungrateful little freak!" Vernon raised one beefy fist and made as if to
move towards Harry.
"Now, Vernon," Harry murmured, wand out and pointed unwaveringly at his Uncle's
chest. "Have you forgotten what they told you about my presence here being for
your safety as much as it is for mine? How about the part where if I leave, the
big bad Dark Lord will come after you to get at me? The wards will fall if I
don't consider this place of yours home and then He will come for you." He
smiled coldly. "Here's the best one yet, though. Do you remember the part where
they warned you that it's dangerous to push me?"
"You can't do magic over the summer. They'll expel you from that freak school
of yours, and then where will you be? You'll be no where with nothing just like
your lazy slut of a mother and that lay about, good for nothing freak she
called a husband!" Vernon declared his opinion in a tone of malicious triumph.
"So put your silly stick away and do as you're told, Boy!"
"Do not call me Boy and don't you ever speak about my parents again, you
worthless excuse for a muggle," Harry growled, eyes bright with anger and
power. He was so dangerously angry he shook with it and the urge, the desire to
do harm was so thick in his chest he swore he would choke on it if he didn't do
something, anything...The dishes in the sink shattered, making Petunia scream
through her raised hands and startling Vernon into yelling out in fear.
Startled by the noise as much as the sudden burst of accidental magic, Harry's
thoughts cleared enough for him to repair the dishes and cast the spell that
would make the dishes clean and put themselves away.
"There," he sneered. "The kitchen is clean and there will be no owls telling me
I've been expelled. Do you understand me, Vernon?"
Watching with open horror as the dishes washed, dried and put them selves away,
Petunia sagged in her seat, face pale.
"No...they said you weren't allowed..." Her voice quavered even more when she
met Harry's fierce gaze.
"They were wrong. Have a good day, 'family'."
Harry stormed out of the kitchen and into the back yard, his magic still
lashing around inside of him as if trying to force its way out. Standing in the
middle of the expanse of perfect green grass, he forced himself to breathe in
and out like he did when he was trying to work on his Occulemency.
Latching onto that concept, he focused even further and felt his magic finally
begin to settle down. Shaking himself forcefully to rid himself of the tingling
sensation of violence that still lay over his skin like a fine sheen of sweat,
he went into the shed and retrieved the tools and water hose he would need to
work in the front yard.
 
Tonks watched Harry stalk into the front yard with an armload of tools and
hose. Curious what he was going to do with everything, she cautiously moved
closer so she could observe without giving herself away.
Satisfied with the placement of the hose he had just finished attaching to the
water spigot, Harry stripped off his shirt and dropped down beside the first
flower bed. Pulling weeds and loosening soil around the various flowers and
shrubs, he gave himself up to the rhythm of his movements. Continuing to work
on his Occulemency while he worked, he soon felt a pleasant calm that brought a
smile to his face. Maybe this is how it's supposed to feel when you work on it
all of the time like they told me I needed to do. I just wish they'd told me
how to do this and why it was so bloody important.
His calm faded during his contemplation of his supposed Occulemency lessons, so
he forcefully redirected his attention outside of himself to get his mind off
of it. He liked feeling calm and relatively happy and he wasn't going to let
anything ruin what he was feeling right now. A soft humming reached his ears
and he paused in what he was doing, his ears straining until he recognized the
gentle sound as a female voice. Returning to his weeding, he began tossing
weeds and dirt filled root clumps in the direction of the sound. He heard a
slight impact first, and then a soft, feminine sounding voice cursed.
"Sorry about that. Didn't see you there," he quipped teasingly and continued to
weed the bed and toss the refuse at his minder. More whispered curses followed
until he was grinning and on the verge of full out laughter. "Why don't you
just give in and talk to me? If you do, I'll stop pitching weeds and dirt at
you."
Tonks groaned to herself and laughed a little. She had to admit to being
curious how he had known she was there. Giving in, she greeted him properly.
"Wotcher, Harry. Can you stop bombarding me now? I promise I'll stick around
and talk for a little while."
"Hi, Tonks. How long are you on duty?"
"Just a little while longer, then I have to go to work. At least it looks like
they've been feeding you this summer. Are the muggles treating you better than
they usually do?" Tonks took the opportunity to observe the young man when he
rose and moved to another flower bed. Surprised at how much muscle he carried
on his light frame for someone who had always appeared to be pathetically
skinny, she blurted out a comment before she could stop it. Blushing heatedly,
hands over her mouth, she had never been more grateful for an invisibility
cloak than she was at that very moment.
"Bloody hell, Harry, you look great! What'd you do to get a body like that?"
Startled into a blush of his own, Harry looked down at himself, then over where
he'd last heard Tonks squeak in mortified embarrassment. The compliment
impacted then and he grinned crookedly.
"Quidditch," he replied matter of factly. "That helps a lot and doing yard work
like this all summer doesn't hurt any thing. Why? You sound like you saw
something you liked, Tonks." He couldn't stop the grin. People talked to each
other like this all of the time in the common room and, all of a sudden, he
understood the banter for the teasing and flirting that it was.
"Oh, hush, you," Tonks grumbled, but her tone didn't carry much bite. He did
look good and she had seen something she liked, so maybe she could turn the
tables on him. She certainly hadn't expected him to flirt with her.
"What's not to like? I have a front row seat to the most eligible hottie in the
wizarding world and he's showing off his half naked body for me." He blushed
bright red and she pumped a mental fist in the air.
"Uh, sure, Tonks. You're just saying that to tease me. I'm just a skinny
teenager." Harry shook his head at the clumsy Auror and considered whether he
could trust her with what he needed to ask. He had too many questions to go on
just asking the Goblins. They didn't know everything that people like Tonks or
Remus might know about his parents and his situation. He decided it was at
least worth a try.
"Can I ask you something serious, Tonks? Serious as in never tell anyone we
talked about it?"
"What's wrong, Harry? Is it the muggles?" Tonks went on alert instantly. His
mood shift had been so sudden that she almost hadn't been able to follow it on
his face.
"Swear that what I ask you won't go any further than you and I."
"You're deadly serious..." Tonks took a deep breath and let it out while she
considered what to do. If she said yes, and gave her oath, it would be binding.
If she said no, he'd probably never trust her again. "Look, do me one favour
and let me ask you something before I give you my oath, okay?"
"That depends on what it is, but you can go ahead and ask."
Tonks opened her invisibility cloak just enough so that Harry could see her
face.
"Is keeping this from everyone going to get me in trouble with work or the
Order?"
Meeting the Metamorphmagus' currently lavender gaze, Harry studied her intently
before answering her inquiry.
"It won't get you in trouble at work. As a matter of fact, you may be glad you
know if things go badly. On the other hand, it might get you in trouble with a
few people in the Order if they found out we talked about these things, but
they'd have to find out first."
Letting out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, Tonks nodded and
licked her lips.
"Alright then, Harry. I, Nymphadora Tonks, do swear on my magic that I will
share nothing of what is spoken between myself and Harry James Potter with
anyone living or dead until he gives me permission to do so." A soft flare of
magic surrounded the pair and then faded from view after a moment.
"Thank you," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry I had to ask you to do that, but..."
"I'm okay with it, Harry. Now, what's bothering you so badly that you can't go
to Dumbledore about it?" Tonks fell back on her butt in shock when the younger
wizard's eyes flared with power and anger after the mention of Dumbledore's
name. "What did he do to you for you to be that angry...?"
"He has lied to me since I can remember and he kept me from knowing anything
about my family. He has let me get into more dangerous situations than anyone
my age should have ever seen and he has done nothing to prepare me for what I
have to do," Harry growled out. "The Dursleys starved me and kept me locked in
the cupboard under the stairs for the first eleven years of my life. Did you
know that? Dumbledore did. My Hogwarts letter was addressed to me in my bloody
cupboard."
Horrified, Tonks sat there and stared at the angry young man for several
minutes before her brain kicked back into gear and began making sense of what
he had said.
"But, how could he let that happen? He..."
"He did the same and worse to Sirius, y'know. Sirius was innocent and
Dumbledore never fought for him to have a trial. Sirius told me a lot of things
like the fact that Dumbledore knew that Peter Pettigrew was my parent's secret
keeper and he still let Sirius spend thirteen years in Azkaban for something he
didn't do." Harry barked out a harsh laugh. "Then he locked him up again once
he escaped, shut him up in Grimmauld Place where he'd be 'safe'. I'm beginning
to wonder about a lot of things, Tonks. Maybe you can see why?"
The Auror nodded her head in agreement. She could easily see why the saviour of
the wizarding world was losing faith in the man everyone considered the
greatest wizard alive. Her protective instincts kicked in and she shook herself
out of her numb daze.
"I'll see what I can find out without raising too many flags and eyebrows,
okay? I loved Sirius like a brother. He was my best friend when I was younger,
before...before they sent him away. I'll do what I can for you, Harry."
"That's all I can ask, Tonks. Sirius was family to me, too, so it's a very
personal thing that his name be cleared. If you need to contact me, don't send
an owl or try to do it too often here. I don't know if anyone else comes on
duty between shifts. I'll find a way for you to get information to me, and I'll
see what I can do about communicating with you without drawing too much
attention."
"Will you tell me more of what's bothering you? I know this isn't all of it."
"Eventually, yes, I'll tell you what I can. I just had to know that there was
someone else I could trust...there's only so much us kids can do."
"I don't know about that, Harry. You 'kids' sure rocked everyone's world not
too long ago. I think you guys can do a heck of a lot more than any of you
think. Don't let that whole age thing get to you. I'm only twenty two, y'know,
and that's not a whole heck of a lot older than you are now."
"I'll keep that in mind, Tonks. You just keep in mind that Dumbledore uses
Legilimency all of the time, so stay on your toes around him. You do use
Occulemency, right?"
"I knew he was a Legilimens, and don't worry, part of our Auror training is to
master Occulemency and Legilimency. I'll keep my shields up tight whenever I'm
around him or any of the other Order members. Hey, how do you know about
Occulemency?"
"Thanks, Tonks. I've been working on it for a while now." Harry smiled his
usual crooked smile. "Well, I guess I better get back to work on the flower
beds before somebody wonders what I'm up to. Wander off a bit or I might
accidentally get you with the water hose."
"I was meaning to ask how you knew I was here to begin with, mister."
"I heard you humming."
"No way! I wasn't being that loud!" Tonks looked offended that he had caught
her on something so small.
"I heard you...it was really low, but I could tell it was close, so I threw
something at the sound and there you were."
"You're a sneaky little scamp! Alright, let me get out of range before you
start in with your bleeding water hose so the neighbours don't see the water
doing something really strange in the middle of the yard." Tonks moved away,
laughing the whole time about how it might look if someone did see the water
running off of nothing like a fountain made of air.
 
Returning to his self-appointed tasks, Harry whistled quietly to himself. That
had gone well, given that he hadn't planned to say anything to anyone that
belonged to the Order. Soon enough, he'd find out if her oath was enough to
keep their discussion under wraps.
 
July_12th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Apparating into a secluded place a few blocks from #4 Privet Drive, Moody
walked the short distance, both eyes taking in everything there was to see. His
invisibility cloak kept the muggles from seeing him, but there were ways to see
through one and he couldn't afford to be followed. Arriving at the property, he
spoke a quiet greeting to Kingsley once he spotted the younger Auror under his
own invisibility cloak.
"Anything to report?" he asked in his usual gruff manner.
"No, not a bloody thing, which is good for us," Kingsley replied. "Potter was
outside working in the back yard for an hour or so after I got here and I had
to stay further away from him than I prefer to when he's outside, but I suppose
it wasn't that big of a deal."
"Why'd you have to keep your distance?"
"He kept throwing weeds and dirt clods all over the place and I didn't want to
give myself away by getting hit. The water hose was the worst to avoid, though.
Damn kid went after the yard like he had gone crazy for a while."
"Yeah, that's what Tonks told me he did yesterday, too. She thought it was
pretty funny, though. Well, you've had a long night. Go on home, Kingsley. I've
got the helm."
"Thanks, Moody." A soft 'crack' of sound, and the senior auror was gone.
Moody shook his head and turned to take a close look at the house. He didn't
know why Kingsley still had a chip on his shoulder when it came to Harry
Potter, but he'd be willing to bet it had to do with Kingsley losing him a week
or so back. Growling under his breath, he made mental note to have a talk with
the senior Auror about it if it continued to affect his work in regards to the
younger wizard.
According to what Kingsley and Albus had told him, the boy should be wandless,
a fact that he thought was completely stupid and outright dangerous. Those two
must be touched in the head to leave any wizard wandless in times like these.
If the Death Eaters did attack, there’d be no way one of us could hold them off
until help arrived. With Potter unarmed, the odds aren't about to improve. I
may have to see about accidentally slipping him a spare.
 
Dobby sensed the arrival of another wizard and checked to see who it was. He
quickly shook Harry awake, his large eyes wide with urgency.
"Master Harry, Dobby must be leaving...peg-legged wizard is here to be guarding
you! Dobby is coming back later when hims is gone." He gave his half awake
master just a moment to acknowledge his words, and then he was gone.
"Dammit, I had things I was going to do this morning," Harry grumbled under his
breath and looked at the clock, which read nine o' clock. "Guess I'll get up
now." He wasn't looking forward to going downstairs for something to eat, but
there would be nothing else until Dobby was able to return, so he would at
least need to grab a snack. Lately, it seemed like he was eating three times
what he used to. It must be something to do with this whole wizard maturity
thing, he mused. I'll send 'Mione and the crew a letter and ask about it later.
Rolling out of bed, he pulled some clothes out of his trunk and made his way to
the loo.
 
Seeing no sign of a wand on the young wizard, Moody turned his attention to the
rest of the household and observed their actions and reactions. He found it odd
that the woman flinched when Harry's door opened and closed, but wrote it off
as her being a jumpy old broad when nothing occurred to justify her reactions.
The Potter boy came downstairs and he really began to wonder what had been
going on in the house. Petunia shrank back from him like he was going to hit
her even though the young man did nothing but go to the ice box and pull out
some fruit and the fixings for a sandwich. The younger Dursley was even worse -
he fled the house as soon as Harry showed his face, hands covering his wide bum
protectively as he scuttled out the door like a frightened cow.
Harry hadn't even looked at the two muggles as far as he could tell, so why
were they so spooked? As far as he could tell, Harry was oblivious to his
effect on his relatives, so Moody decided to have a little talk with Vernon
Dursley. Something just wasn't right with those muggles.
 
Carrying his sandwich and apples upstairs to his room, Harry contemplated what
he was going to do during Moody's shift. Then he remembered the nice wand
shaped stick he'd brought in from the yard yesterday and grinned. He might not
be able to cast the spells right now, but he could at least perfect the words
and wand movements. Satisfied with his plan, he put the apples on his desk and
settled in his chair to eat the sandwich before beginning the day's study plan.
 
Moody's attention was drawn back to Harry's room when he caught a low level
flash of magic out of the corner of his magical eye's range of vision. Focusing
on it immediately, he frowned and then started chuckling under his breath. If
the look on the boy's face was any indicator, he hadn't expected anything to
happen when he tried to cast that spell. Watching more intently, he realized
Harry was using a prop because the magic wasn't coming from the wand - it was
coming from the young wizard's hand.
Well, bugger me! He's figured out how to teach himself wandless magic! Grinning
wickedly, he nodded his approval. You just keep at it, boy. That'll save your
life one day...maybe sooner than you think.
 
Starting with his first year Charms text, Harry picked up his 'wand' and moved
it in the appropriate swish and flick motion while saying 'Wingardium Leviosa'
under his breath. Nothing happened, but he felt his magic surge down his arm
and disperse harmlessly from his hand before it could do anything focused.
Curious if he could actually get it to work, he focused on one of his apples
and repeated the spell with a great deal more concentration. The apple rose a
few inches and thumped back down onto the desk when his surprise broke the
spell.
Stunned, Harry stared at the apple and then began to grin like an idiot. Yes!
I'll show them I don't need a wand! Working himself relentlessly for hours,
Harry was oblivious to the sweat running down his face and his exhaustion until
he tried to cast a simple charm and his vision greyed out. Swaying on his feet,
muscles shaking, he looked at the clock through bleary eyes and froze in yet
another moment of shock that day. He'd been working on wandless magic for over
five hours. Sleep, gotta get some rest...Dobby'll wake me...
 
Watching to make sure the boy got to his bed without hurting himself, Moody
smiled a little and made mental note to not underestimate Potter like so many
of the other adults seemed to do. If a fifteen year old boy could show the
initiative and drive to work five hours straight on wandless magic before he
had to stop or pass out, then he deserved more than a little respect in Moody's
book. Merlin's balls, I can't do that much wandless magic and I know what I'm
doing, he mused and kept watch over the house and the sleeping wizard it
sheltered.
 
 
Dobby returned to the house after checking to see if Moody was still around for
the tenth time that day. Popping into his master's room, he cocked his head to
one side and watched him sleep while observing his magic. Seeing no signs of
flux or irregularity, he nodded his approval and conjured a small table so he
could put down the meal tray he'd brought before trying to wake Harry.
Stepping in, he gently shook Harry's shoulder and called his name.
"Master Harry is needing to wake up now. Dobby is back and is having yous
dinner."
Harry groaned softly and tried to ignore the little elf. He was so exhausted
that he wanted to do nothing more than sleep for the next week.
"Master Harry, yous must be eating. Yous is very hungry." Dobby shook him
again, this time a little more insistently.
"Okay, Dobby, I'm awake...Merlin, I'm so tired." His stomach growled
threateningly and he laughed a little. "I guess I'm hungry, too. Smells really
good." He sat up and immediately dug into the food the little elf had put on
the table for him. "Thanks Dobby."
"Yous is being welcome, Master Harry. Did yous eat anything at all today while
Dobby was having to be gone?" the elf asked, his concern evident.
"I had a sandwich and I was going to eat a couple apples, but I got distracted
working on wandless magic. I was so tired I almost passed out...once I got to
the bed, I think I did pass out." Harry sighed. "Is my appetite increasing
because I'm getting closer to my magical maturity?"
"Yous magic is getting yous body ready for its growing up. Yous body will grow
up with yous magic, so yous need much more food than usual. Master Harry must
promise Dobby that he will eat more when Dobby cannot be here to feed hims,"
the elf pleaded quietly and wrung his hands nervously. "The more magic yous
uses, the more foods yous is needing."
"Is that why I was so tired? I used too much magic and didn't eat on top of
it?" Dobby just nodded and Harry sighed again. "I'll be more careful. I
promise." He smiled a little and went back to eating when Dobby relaxed
visibly. "Anything going on at Hogwarts?"
"Dumbleydore is still trying to fix some of his things that Master Harry broke
weeks and weeks ago. Hims gets very angry when they fall apart again." Dobby
smiled gleefully. "Sometimes Dobby helps."
Harry arched an eyebrow when his house elf's smile took on a particularly
malicious aspect right after that statement. Biting his lip, he snorted, eyes
bright with amusement.
"Oh, I'm sure you help him all the time." He sniggered and kept eating.
 
Feeling much better for having taken a nap and eaten a full meal, Harry pulled
out a few sheets of parchment, his quill and ink pot. He had a few things to
pass on to his friends and he figured he might as well get the letter written
while he was thinking about it.
 
Hello everyone,
How are you all doing since your last visit with the Healer? Have you made any
more progress? Let me know. I worry about all of you.
Things are the same here - the Dursley's leave me alone and I leave them alone.
I did some yard work and talked with Tonks. I think she's on our side. Dont
worry about her too much, guys. I have her Witch's oath that she won't discuss
anything we talked about with anyone living or dead unless I give her
permission.
She wasn't aware of any of the stuff that has been going on with me and she got
really upset when I told her what was going on with Sirius before that night.
Merlin, that still hurts like a bludger to the gut...I miss him, guys. I hate
this. Anyway...she said she'll find out what she can and send information once
we think of a way to do it without giving away that Dobby is helping us. If you
want to owl her, go ahead, but I can't or Dumbledore will know something is up.
We need all the options and advantages we can get and I'd appreciate your ideas
on how to handle this.
I have a question for who ever knows the answer. Is it normal to be eating a
LOT more when you're getting close to your magical maturity? I can't hardly get
enough to eat in the last few days. Dobby has been happy running around keeping
food in front of me and he says it's normal, but still...I'd appreciate any
information you guys might have.
Oh! I started teaching myself wandless magic today! It's bloody exhausting, but
it's manageable. Try doing spells with a stick that looks like a wand and focus
like you do when you do the spells normally. Let me know if any of you have any
luck, okay? Brilliant!
Harry
 
Rolling up the parchment, Harry tied it with a piece of string and wrote
Hermione's name on the outside. Dobby picked it up before he had a chance to
ask and was gone to deliver it. Chuckling to himself, he settled in to work on
his Occulemency some more and discovered that his progress from earlier in the
day had stuck with him. Slipping into a calm, quiet state of light meditation,
he observed his shields and began adding to them again before going deeper into
his own core and working on the actual organization of his thoughts and
memories.
A badly deteriorated area of one wall drew his attention and he frowned. That
wasn't there yesterday, he mused and moved closer to inspect it. It had the
appearance of an arch or doorway that had been bricked over, and then covered
with plaster to hide even that. Attacking the failing stucco and brickwork,
Harry soon had room to stick his hands in so he could pull larger chunks of the
wall down. As the opening expanded, he saw that it was just a deep alcove, but
it was definitely not empty.
A large, old and ornate looking trunk sat in the space and he worked even
harder to get to it. Many of his memories, like those of the Chamber of
Secrets, had been locked away in trunks like this one but none of them were as
big as this trunk.
Clearing the last of the obstructing brickwork away and banishing it, Harry
turned his attention to the trunk itself. Stepping into the alcove, he reached
out and the trunk's lid popped open slightly at the touch of his hand. Throwing
the lid back like he'd done with all the rest, he was hit with an unexpectedly
large rush of memories and found himself being shaken awake by his irate house
elf for the second time in one day. He had the grace to blush and look
embarrassed when Dobby gave him a pointed look that said he had done something
very Gryffindorish again.
"Uh, hi, Dobby. I wasn't doing magic this time. I found another trunk full of
memories and it turned out to have a lot more in it than I was expecting. My
head really hurts...I think I'm just going to go get a couple aspirin and lay
back down until my head stops hurting."
"Dobby will go gets yous a pain potion from Hogwarts. No more messing with
memories or anything else magical today unless Dobby is here. Master promises?"
The elf searched Harry's gaze with his own and seemed satisfied with his young
Master's promise. "Dobby will be back soon. Yous be resting now."
"I promise," Harry stated. If it would get him one of Madame Pomphrey's pain
potions, he was willing to promise just about anything right about now. Once
his head stopped hurting so badly, he might consider trying to figure out what
he had just done to himself. Having Dobby there to keep watch sounded like a
really good idea, too. "I can be such an idiot sometimes," he muttered and
tried to relax until Dobby returned.
 
July_13th,_Ministry_of_Magic
 
"Please be seated so we may begin! Welcome to the 18th session of the 844th
year of the British Wizengamot. This session is now open for business," Albus
Dumbledore declared through use of the sonorous charm. Cancelling the spell, he
rapped the table in front of him with a ceremonial gavel and smiled benignly at
the representatives. "Before we move on to accept motions which will decide the
new articles of legislation we will be voting upon today, does anyone have any
new business to bring to the floor?"
Several members brought forward new legislation for review and a brief amount
of time was spent introducing the concepts of the new laws. In barely more than
an hour, the floor was cleared, opening the way for motions that would start
the voting on legislation from the previous session.
Watching the nobles around him, Albus smiled to himself and opened the floor to
motions when the time came. The Potter proxy nodded to him when a motion was
made regarding the bill he had introduced at the last session.
"I wish to make an amending motion regarding Law 2460, articles one through
six, sections all, relating to the early emancipation of minor wizards," Baron
Nott declared.
"Speak you amending motion, Baron Nott," Albus urged.
"I move for the exception requirement of a minimum of an Acceptable on all
applicable O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s that was suggested to be made a minimum of
Exceeds Expectations on all test scores be amended to read that an average of
all applicable test scores on the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s must equal no less than
an Exceeds Expectations." Nott looked over the crowded room and nodded to a
few.
"I understand and readily accept the need for a solid education before taking
over the mantle of a family, but everyone excels in some fields and struggles
in others. Averaging the scores takes that fact into account and gives a fair
chance to all of our young Lords and Ladies." He bowed to the Wizengamot elders
and returned to his seat.
A general murmur of agreement followed Nott's statements, and another Lord
stood.
"I move to make the amendment a permanent part of the exceptions clause for Law
2460."
"I second that motion," another chimed in.
"The amendment is acknowledged and the appropriate changes will be made to the
text of the legislation should it be passed into law." Albus fumed a little -
such an amendment could very well work in Harry's favour, but he doubted the
boy's average would be an Exceeds Expectations, so he kept his pique to
himself.
"I move that Law 2460 be brought up for vote before the noble members of the
standing Wizengamot," Baron Nott declared and was seconded by Narcissa Malfoy,
who was acting as proxy for her currently incarcerated husband.
"Law 2460, articles one through six, sections all, relating to the early
emancipation of minor wizards will be voted upon now. Gentle wizards, please
cast your votes of yea or nay or indicate your intention to abstain." Albus
cast his own vote - for, of course - and sat back to observe the different
cliques. Many individuals voted immediately, while others deliberated amongst
themselves for several minutes before reluctantly voting one way or the other.
Finally, all of the votes were tallied and Albus rapped his gavel to regain the
attention of the members.
"Thank you for your attention to this matter, Noble members. Law 2460 has been
passed by a majority vote of 78 for, 20 against and 2 abstains. What is the
next motion?"
Voting on the subsequent laws and amendments as they came, Albus nodded to
those he knew had voted for him on certain issues including the newest
restrictions on magical creatures. Seeing no further motions, Albus stood,
drawing all eyes to him. He smiled, twinkle on full blast.
"Are there any further motions, Noble members?" Seeing none, he nodded. "Is
there anything further that anyone wishes to introduce at this time?" Again,
there were no takers. "As all business has been concluded, I declare this 18th
session of the 884th year of the British Wizengamot to be closed. Enjoy the
rest of your weekend, my friends."
Pleased with how events had turned out despite the potential setback that
Nott's amendment represented, Albus left the courtroom with a genuine smile on
his face. Let's see the boy's damnable luck get him around this obstacle, he
thought with a private chortle. Only an old line Pureblood could manoeuvre
around the clauses in this new law and that is something he most certainly is
not. Sorry, Sirius, old boy. You have been out smarted once again. Whistling
quietly, he headed for the Minister's office. He didn't like to let the man
operate on his own for too terribly long without exerting his influence on him.
 
"Hello, Percy. How are you faring in your position with the Minister?" Albus
asked the aspiring young politician. He didn't bother to inform the boy that he
would never make it past his current position as a clerk. He lacked the drive
and creativity to be anything else and his close connection to the political
failure of Barty Crouch, Sr. was a further black smudge on his hopes for
advancement.
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore. Things are going quite well, thank you for
asking. I hope your affairs are going well, also." Percy stood a little
straighter under Albus' gaze, the familiarity of the old man's grandfatherly
smile soothing his worries and concerns just as it was intended to do.
"Everything is going well, indeed," Albus stated. "Is the Minister busy? I'd
like to speak with him if he has a few minutes to spare."
"I'll see if he's busy, Professor. I'll be right back out." Excusing himself
politely, Percy slipped into the Minister's office and nodded a greeting. "Sir?
Professor Dumbledore is here to see you. Do you have a few minutes to meet with
him?"
Torn between telling the manipulative old wizard to go to hell and dancing for
joy to have him show up without being asked for help, Cornelius Fudge groaned
under his breath. Invariably, a visit from Albus was nearly as bad as one from
Lucius Malfoy. They both wanted him to do something with very little payback in
return, but at least Albus had never threatened his life or the lives of his
wife and children.
In the case of Lucius and the Dark Lord, he should probably be glad that their
lives were the only price they had promised to extract if he failed. They could
have demanded he take the Mark once he had taken enough money and overlooked
enough evidence, but so far, they hadn't. Well, Lucius is safely locked away
for the time being. Maybe Albus can orchestrate some events to keep my
chestnuts out of the fire the Daily Prophet seems bent on roasting them over.
He's good for that kind of manoeuvring, at the very least.
"Send him in, Weatherby. I always have time for Albus."
Percy nodded and slipped out the door again. Holding it open for Albus, he
smiled winningly.
"The Minister will see you now, Professor."
"Thank you, Percy. Hello, Cornelius, how have you been doing? Sherbet lemon?"
Relaxing into the calm, trusting feeling he always associated with Albus'
presence, Cornelius smiled his best front page smile.
"Well enough considering the mess you created for me by proving that You Know
Who is back," Cornelius grumbled half heartedly. "If I hadn't seen Him with my
own eyes..."
"But you did see Him, Cornelius, and seeing necessitates belief," Albus replied
with a benevolent smile. "The papers have not been kind to you on the subject
from what I have seen. What are you doing in the way of damage control?"
"You must be joking, Albus. Damage control?" The Minister looked at the elderly
wizard like he had lost what little mind he had left and snorted his disgust.
"Is there any such thing as 'damage control' in a situation like this?"
"There is always the possibility of damage control; no matter how bad the
situation may seem at the time, nearly everything can be mended well enough to
save a career. Admitting to your error and siding with Mr. Potter on this
particular issue might go a long way towards regaining you some public
goodwill. I will speak to Harry about writing a letter to the paper regarding
your shared goals or something of the sort. By aligning your name with his good
press image, you stand to gain more than you might possibly lose in admitting
your error."
Fudge considered Albus' suggestion and couldn't really find any fault with it
despite his reluctance to recant his previous statements about the boy saviour.
"I will consider your advice, Albus. I'm sure you're correct as usual."
"It certainly couldn't hurt," the Headmaster stated and smiled encouragingly.
If Cornelius followed through on his advice, it would be Albus who saw a boost
in public opinion for being right all along and for his unwavering support of
the Boy Who Lived. It often paid to be the beleaguered voice of reason.
Satisfied with how his meeting had gone, Albus bid Cornelius good day and moved
on to his next stop.
 
July_13th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Feeling considerably more cautious about what he opened or handled in his own
mind after his experiences of the evening before, Harry settled in to meditate
while Dobby puttered around the room cleaning things that couldn't possibly be
in need of cleaning.
Focusing in on the organization of his memories, he began humming quietly to
himself and relaxed into the calm of a light trance. Calling all unsorted
memories to the area immediately around his mental self, he sat down on the
floor in his Core and started sorting what appeared to be photographs. Smiling
over a snapshot of himself and Hedwig, he focused on it completely and the
'photo' became animated as the memory played itself out. Seeing that particular
moment of himself at play with his first true best friend made his smile
broaden considerably.
"Hedwig," he whispered happily and carefully placed the memory in the
appropriate trunk. He picked up another and shook his head. "Dudley," he
grumbled and tossed that memory into another trunk with a great deal less care
than the first. He spent a while doing this until his rhythm was interrupted by
a memory that he couldn't place - it appeared to be much older than his own
memories and the scene it contained meant nothing to him.
"Hmm, I wonder where this came from," he mused quietly. Studying the memory,
his frown deepened. He was fairly certain he had never set foot in an
orphanage, yet here was this memory of living in just such a place. Why do I
have this memory? It isn't mine. Is it?
Noting the difference in appearance, he Called together the similar memories
and started a pile at his side. Once he thought about it, he made a connection.
These must have come out of that chest I opened yesterday, but who do they
belong to? This is more than a little weird.
Tossing memories back into the chest at a fairly rapid pace, he paused when one
captured his attention. The immediate focus was on several larger, clearly
older boys who wore varying expressions of meanness and laughter. The sight was
so familiar from his own experiences with Dudley that he had to know what this
other child had experienced. Focusing in on it, he immersed himself in the
memory.
 
The smaller of the two older boys stepped in shoving him back against the wall
hard enough to bump his head. Blinking to clear his eyes when they watered, he
snarled at the gathered bullies and their small audience.
"Leave me alone!" he demanded, voice still high and sharp for his age.
"What's little Tommy-boy going to do about it, huh?" the largest retorted
meanly. "We've got you all alone today, freak. Mrs. Williamson is too drunk to
help you this time."
"Tommy-boy! Tommy-boy!" a couple other boys chanted in the background, their
excitement clearly evident. "Tommy-boy!"
"Don't call me that! I'll hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt before!"
"Awww, what's a little private school squirt like you gonna do to me?" The
older boy stepped in to deal his own blow and let out a high pitched cry of
pain when a foot connected between his legs hard enough to drop him to the
ground. The others froze, stunned that someone had hurt their leader.
"I told you I'd hurt you," Tom stated coldly and proceeded to viciously kick
the other boy while he lay helpless on the ground. Whimpers and garbled pleas
made it to his ears and he sneered, his awareness of the remaining onlookers
deepening the pleasure he felt in this victory. "You want me to stop? Oh, no, I
don't think so. You said it yourself. Mrs. Williamson is too drunk to help
anyone today."
 
Panting heavily, Harry wrenched himself out of the memory and found himself
back in his own room under the watchful gaze of a very concerned house elf.
Pulse racing and face flushed from the excitement, pleasure and satisfaction
that he had felt while he relived Tom's memory of hurting the older bully, he
swallowed convulsively.
Fighting down the surge of nausea that followed his realization that he had
enjoyed being able to hurt someone who had caused him so much difficulty so
many times before, he wrestled with his own fears and concerns about the state
of his sanity. He knew this wasn't his memory, but he could so easily replace
the other boy with Dudley or Piers and then his satisfaction would be complete.
Shaking, he swallowed convulsively and wondered just how much like Tom he
really was.
"Oh Merlin, no...oh no...This can't be happening now..."
 
 
Translations:
Oc Dager - Goblin for Young Warrior
Sheklac - Goblin for Chieftain
Mon Grand Mauvais Loup - My big bad wolf
Vétéran Loup - Old Wolf
Doux Émerillon - Sweet Merlin
Magique Agence du Maintien de L'ordre - Magical Law Enforcement Agency
Le Service du Magique être - Department of Magical Creatures
Le Service du Magique Transportation - Department of Magical Transportation
***** Life is a game of Chess *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run.
Will contain het/slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Pairing:_None_currently.
 
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J. K. Rowling's characters. Pity, that...
 
// Parseltongue //
Thoughts & Mindspeech
Letters, etc.
 
AN: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. Your thoughts
and interest are very important to me. Thanks again!
 
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
 
 
July_13th,_Ministry_of_Magic
 
Strolling into the reception area for the Director of the Department of Magical
Law Enforcement, Albus Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and
waited at the desk for the young woman to notice him.
"Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore! What can I do for you today?"
Smiling at Amelia's assistant, twinkle at its grandfatherly best, Albus nodded
in reply to her greeting.
"Hello, my dear. I'm here to see Director Bones. Is she available?"
"I'll check for you."
"Excellent." Taking the time to reinforce his Occulemency shields as was his
wont before any meeting, he moved over to the side and conjured his favourite
poufy chair rather than sit in one of the ones that was available. "Take your
time, my dear. There's no hurry."
 
Amelia looked up from scanning an anonymous note for hexes, tracking charms and
portkeys when she heard a quiet knock on her doorjamb.
"Yes, Angela?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore is here to see you, Madame Bones. Do you have time for a
meeting?"
Sighing to herself, Amelia smiled and nodded even though she wanted nothing
more than to find out what was in the note she held. It looked as if it would
have to wait for a little while longer.
"I have a little time before my meeting with the Senior Aurors. Please send the
Headmaster in." She frowned. "Angela?"
"Yes, Madame Bones?"
"Do you happen to recall who dropped this note off? Has anyone in particular
been into the office today?"
"A lot of Aurors have been in and out as usual, ma'am. I don't recall seeing
anyone different or unexpected other than the Headmaster."
Amelia nodded and forced her contemplative look to mould itself into a slight
smile.
"Alright, then. Go ahead and send my meeting back to me, Angela."
 
"Director Bones will see you now, Headmaster. It was good to see you again."
"It was a pleasure to see you again, as well, Ms. McKinnon. Have a pleasant
day."
Wandering back to Amelia's office, Albus walked in with a cheerful smile.
"Hello, Amelia, how are you today?"
"I'm well, Headmaster Dumbledore. What brings you down to the DMLE?"
"I just finished dismissing the Wizengamot session and thought it might be nice
to visit with a few friends while I was here at the Ministry." Keeping his
twinkle going despite her less than enthusiastic reception, Albus sought an
opening to bring her in under his influence.
"Has the Minister allowed for increased Auror recruiting yet? Now that
Voldemort's return in as acknowledged fact, I'd think he would understand your
need and the need of the people."
"I am currently negotiating with Minister Fudge on that very issue, Headmaster.
You needn't go out of your way to speak to him."
"I would be happy to speak to him for you on the off chance that my advice
might be heard more clearly. Merlin knows we need every wand focused on defence
that we can get these days."
"I don't think that will be necessary, Headmaster, but thank you for the offer.
I have everything well in hand." Amelia wondered what the manipulative old man
was up to. Between the vague sense of unease she always felt in his presence
and the information she remembered from her time under Alastor Moody's tutelage
at the Auror Academy, she didn't need to be reminded that Albus Dumbledore was
a man to be cautious of both on the battle field and in the political forum.
"Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with me, Headmaster? I have my
Senior Aurors coming in for a meeting now."
"No, I do believe that will be all, Amelia. Have a good meeting and let me know
if I can be of any assistance. There are many who would answer my call, after
all." Smiling congenially after issuing his vaguely combined threat and offer
of information, Albus stood and left the stubborn witch's presence.
Why won't she relax her stance? It shouldn't require any effort at all to at
least ensure that she would relax enough to use my first name, but the damnable
woman has always resisted my wiles in a most stubborn manner. Albus grumbled to
himself and wondered if Kingsley Shacklebolt might not make a more malleable
Director for the DMLE.
Perhaps she is as accomplished an Occulemens as Severus has intimated. If so, I
will have to work a little harder to break through her defences the next time
we speak. If everything is to go according to plan, I must have the cooperation
of the DMLE in the coming months.
Albus continued his wonderings and kept on his way to find out what information
Arthur Weasley had managed to cull from his fellow low level ministry
employees.
Cornelius is in a position that wields considerable more power and prestige
than any other official, yet he is the most malleable of the upper level
politicians. Perhaps Amelia thinks she is immune to the ups and downs of
politics in her position as Director of the DMLE. Maybe it's time to make her
reconsider her thoughts on the matter. I will have her cooperation or I will
replace her with someone who will give me what I want.
 
 
Motioning her Aurors in, Amelia waited while they conjured seating and settled
before opening with an unexpected inquiry.
"Who knows anything about Dumbledore's real involvement in this war against You
Know Who?"
Surprised and a little nervous when faced with such a direct query regarding
Dumbledore's involvement in the war effort, Kingsley twitched almost
unnoticeably and spoke up to laude the elderly wizard's character.
"Albus is a great symbol for the Light, Director. He leads by example. After
all, he did kill the last Dark Lord."
"Actually, Kingsley, technically, Mr. Potter managed that feat. You Know Who
may be back now, but in my book, anything that spends over a decade without a
body to call its own is a spirit of some kind and can only be classified as
dead. Unfortunately for us, You Know Who didn't have the decency to lie down
and stay that way." Amelia smiled a little.
"So, what else do we know of the Headmaster's actual role, intended or
otherwise, in this war?"
Conversation bantered back and forth for several minutes with no real
information changing hands, by which point Amelia had heard and seen enough.
"Alright, on to our next important consideration. Are we seeing an increase in
Death Eater activities, or is everything holding steady? Should we expect and
plan for an attack on Azkaban in the near future? Does anyone have any ideas
about what You Know Who might actually be up to?"
"With a large number of his Inner Circle in Azkaban, we have to assume that You
Know Who will make an attempt on the prison before moving forward with any
major recruitment campaigns. He'll need his most experienced people to train
the newbies that are being brought into the fold," Auror Robards commented.
"It's just a matter of time and we all know it. The signs of more focused
raiding activity are increasing day by day. We had three small raids just last
night alone, and yes, the Dark Mark was present over the homes. There were
signs of fighting, but no bodies. They seem to be taking prisoners right now,
and I'd rather I didn't have a good idea of why, but those of us who were
around for the last war are thinking it's for a Revel or a group of
Initiations. I don't want to think about it too hard, but we don't have much
choice."
"Does anyone else have anything to offer?" Amelia asked and let out a
frustrated sigh when everyone else seemed to bow to Robards' logic - they had
very little useful intelligence information at this point and most of what they
did have came from past experience, not current events. "Very well, then. I
want you to get your people out there and try to find out what these damn Death
Eaters are up to! I refuse to force our people sit on their hands and wait for
things to get as bad as they did during the last war before we do something
about it!"
Studying each of her Senior Aurors in turn, she made no attempt to soften her
regard or her tone.
"I want this problem curbed as much as we are able with our current manpower.
I'm working on getting you more aurors. Yes, I know that many trainees take
time to get into their groove, but if I can set each of our existing aurors
with a new trainee, that will double our force and greatly improve our chances
of getting through this war with minimal casualties. Get out there and get to
work, people!"
 
Sitting back in her chair as her office cleared, Amelia shook her head and
wondered what she was getting herself into. She had started out her day by cold
shouldering Albus Dumbledore - a potentially fatal political move - and
finished it off so far by all but promising something she couldn't follow
through on unless she could intimidate Fudge enough to make him give her the
okay to start hiring and training new Aurors immediately.
"Dammit!" She snapped at the air and let out a breath abruptly, the sudden
exhalation moving the note she had been trying to find the time to read for
over an hour now. Focused by the subtle movement, she had the note in her hands
and opened before she could second guess herself about it again.
 
Director Bones,
Due to a Magical Oath I swore to the source of part of this information, I am
not at liberty to reveal myself at this time. Should I receive permission to
freely discuss what I know, I will gladly come to you and share everything I
have learned so far.
The first item of business I feel I must bring to your attention is a splinter
group in the fight against You Know Who called The Order of the Phoenix. They
mean well, and I am currently still a member of this group, but my belief in
their goals and effectiveness is waning rapidly. The following individuals are
know to me as members and are also in the Ministry's employ.
 
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore - Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot and
Founder of the Order
Alastor Moody - Retired Senior Auror
Arthur Weasley - Department of Muggle Artefacts
Kingsley Shacklebolt - Senior Auror
Nymphadora Tonks - Auror
 
There are many, many other members, but these are the ones that I knew would
interest you the most. Please understand that we all joined the Order thinking
we were standing with the greatest force against You Know Who. I have recently
learned that my trust may have been unfounded and I think that you could
discover many interesting things about Headmaster Dumbledore if you just take a
closer look at his extra-curricular activities.
 
Loyal to the Light
 
Shocked, Amelia read the letter several more times before fully appreciating
what this anonymous individual had just offered her. Two of her current Aurors
and one of the most respected, albeit eccentric, retired Aurors appeared to be
under Dumbledore's thumb unless it was one of them had delivered the
information to her. Planning to meet individually with each person on this
short list with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, she smiled genuinely for the
first time in weeks. The news wasn't specifically good, but it also wasn't all
that bad; on the contrary, this could easily work to her advantage in the near
future.
 
 
July_14th,_The_Burrow
 
"I've been thinking about a few things for a little while now, guys. Maybe you
can help me finish working it out," Ron commented once he was settled under
Ginny's oak tree with his sister and Hermione.
Hermione nodded encouragingly. "Just tell us what's on your mind, and we'll go
from there."
Ron looked to Ginny, then back to Hermione and nodded resolutely. Gathering his
thoughts, he sighed and stared off into the distance. He abruptly focused on
Hermione.
"This may mean nothing or everything, but here goes. Um, when we went after the
Philosopher's Stone, we started out as a group. I got knocked out at the chess
set. Did you make it all the way to the end with Harry?"
"No, there was only enough flame freezing potion for one of us to get through
the fire trap on the door that led forward. Harry went on alone and I used the
potion that let me go back so I could get help for you and alert the other
Professors to the situation."
"So only one person could have gone forward, no matter what?"
"Yes, Ron. Only one." Hermione sat forward, curiosity shining brightly in her
eyes. "Where are you going with this?"
"Bear with me and let me finish before you ask a lot of questions, okay. There
are a lot more pieces to put into place first. I think you'll see the big
picture a lot faster this way than you would if I just told you what I'm
seeing," the red head stated.
"Now we move on to year two and the Chamber of Secrets. I doubt we ever
would've figured out what the monster was without your help, y'know, Hermione."
He smiled when his friend blushed at the praise. "You were petrified and
couldn't go with us that time. A cave in kept me and Lockhart from advancing on
into the Chamber with Harry. Yet again, he faces the monster alone."
Frowning, Ginny began to get an inkling of where her brother might be headed
with his thoughts, but she remained quiet. She wanted to hear what else he had
to say. He was much more thoughtful since his experience in the Brain Room at
the Ministry, and this was but one example of how much time he spent thinking
things out now.
"Go on."
"Third year was a bit of a fluke, I think. We were actually able to be with him
through everything."
"He had to face the Dementors alone," Hermione whispered. "I could barely think
with all of them so close...I could barely watch, let alone actually try to
help him...that was all Harry." She flushed with embarrassment.
"Okay, so year three wasn't entirely a fluke," Ron muttered and sat back to
rethink his idea with the new information Hermione had provided. "Year four,
the tournament, he was alone for every task when it came down to it. This past
year, he was at least alone with Bellatrix and You Know Who for a little while.
We'll have to talk to him to find out exactly what happened."
"Did you ever wonder why Professor Snape showed up at the Shrieking Shack when
he did?" Hermione arched an eyebrow at Ron and nodded. "I see where you're
going with this, Ron. He didn't have to be alone all those other times. Someone
made sure he was alone. The same someone who knows almost everything that goes
on at Hogwarts, maybe?"
"You prove yet again why everyone says that you are the smartest witch of your
age," Ron complimented with a grin. "Just when Harry is about to find out
something important, Snape shows up and tries to mess everything up. I don't
think anyone counted on the three of us attacking a teacher..." He growled
under his breath and shook his head.
"What I don't understand is why. We had Wormtail, so clearing Sirius' name
would have been a snap. Harry could've gone to live with Snuffles and Remus and
he'd have been happy. He'd have been stronger than ever. Why keep him away from
the people who care about him the most? Hell, Mum would take him in before you
could finish saying the words to ask if it was okay for him to move in at the
Burrow. Why leave him with those muggles?"
"Chess." Ginny looked at both of them with wide, sad eyes. "Think about it like
moves for a game of chess. Sirius' love and support or the love and support
he'd have gotten living here, would have changed Harry from a pawn to a King."
Horrified by the implications of that statement, the other two teens just
stared at her and tried to process that sinister thought.
 
 
July_15th,_St._Mungo's,_Office_of_Master_Mind_healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
"I've never been more frightened in my life," Neville stated, gaze on the wall
behind Healer Monroe. The experience of living his memories again with the
Healer present had put many things into perspective and he finally felt
comfortable talking about some of the things that had happened.
"It amazes me how bloody stubborn and stupid Harry can be sometimes. I don't
know what would have happened if he had done as Hermione and I asked and left
the prophecy on the shelf, but it's a moot point now, I guess."
"Yeah, that was one of his less inspired moments," Ginny commented with a
giggle.
"Oh, leave off it," Ron grumbled. "Harry doesn't think strategically. He acts
on instinct...impulse...whatever you want to call it. Yeah, it might have been
a bad decision. It might also be the only decision that could have led to all
of us being here, alive and whole."
"Uh, that sounds an awful lot like divination talking there, Ron. I thought you
didn't buy into that sort of stuff," Hermione ventured cautiously.
"Ronald has gained much from his experience with the brains," Luna mused
dreamily. "Unfortunately, it was at great personal cost. He isn't speaking from
the point of view of a Seer, Hermione. He is speaking as a Master of strategy
who sees the moves he will make further ahead than the rest of us can really
comprehend."
Slowly settling back in his seat, Healer Monroe did his best to remain
unobtrusive; listening carefully to everything the teens had to say, he kept
mental notes for later review. Perhaps Ron would open up about his attack now
that he was in a different environment.
As a group, the young people refocused on Neville and sat forward eagerly.
Ginny patted the nervous young mans knee and smiled encouragingly.
"What else is on your mind, Nev?"
"We relied on each other and we took care of each other just like we were
supposed to do. When we thought we had lost part of the group, all we could
think about was making sure we got everyone out," Neville murmured. "It felt
good to be part of something even though I really messed up a couple of times.
I still can't believe I disarmed Harry the same time I did it to the Death
Eater. I was horrified..."
"We all botched things up at different times that night, Nev. The important
thing is what we're doing now - we're here, alive and talking about it." Ginny
declared her thoughts proudly, brown eyes full of fire. "The only other thing
that matters is that we learn from it and don't make the same mistakes next
time. You all know there will be a next time."
"I know," Neville agreed. "Believe me, I do understand that now. It really
helped to see the memories from a different perspective. I think I'll get a
Pensive eventually." He sighed.
"The biggest thing that sticks out for me is how I feel now when I remember the
point when Dumbledore and the others showed up. At the time, I felt like we had
been saved by this great and wonderful man...now, all I can do is wonder why it
took them so long to get to us and why Dumbledore didn't do more to help."
"I think we're all starting to wonder about that," Ron mused quietly. He looked
at his sister and his friends and fidgeted uncomfortably. He couldn't seem to
block out the memory of that night right now. It felt like it was clawing its
way to the surface no matter how hard he tried to bury it deeper in the back of
his head.
"I remember the first time we saw the brains at the Department of Mysteries,"
Ron muttered, gaze distant as he lost himself in the memories of that
unforgettably horrifying night. He could see them as clearly now as he did that
night.
In the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid,
big enough for all of them to swim in; a number of pearly-white objects were
drifting around lazily in it... Glimmering eerily, they drifted in and out of
sight in the depths of the green liquid, looking something like slimy
cauliflowers...
"Aquavirius Maggots, Luna called them...said something about the Ministry
breeding the things..." Ron shuddered visibly. "They are breeding them, those
brain things. You were right about that part, Luna."
Healer Monroe forced himself to be still and remain in the background as Ron
finally began to speak of his own trauma. Relaxing bit by bit, he nodded
encouragingly when Hermione caught his gaze and smiled tremulously. They didn't
need him right now and that fact didn't bother him at all. This was the most
effective method of healing for this closely knit group of friends.
"They were awful to see," Hermione agreed quietly and hugged herself, the
fingers of one hand absently rubbing at the place on her chest where the scar
Dolohov had given her began. "We were all so badly hurt by then...by the time
you got hurt. What exactly happened?"
"One of the Death Eaters hit him with a powerful Confundus charm," Ginny
replied. "Between being hurt and Confunded, well, he was already half out of
his mind. Then he accioed that thing..."
"Parts of it, I remember perfectly," Ron commented, his tone flat and lifeless.
"I don't think I've ever felt so much pain in my life. Once it latched onto me,
all I could do was scream and try to tear it off of my chest." Ignorant of the
tears that were running down his face, Ron panted softly and lost himself in
the memory of having his mind invaded by the Brain creature for the first time
since it had happened.
A brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish; for a moment it seemed
to hang suspended in midair, then it soared towards him, and what looked like
ribbons of moving images flew from it, unravelling like rolls of film...the
moment they made contact with his skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves
around his arms like ropes, thin ribbons spinning around his chest now; he
tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight against him like an
octopus's body. Pain exploded through his mind as the creature's awareness
impacted his own and the sheer volume of possibilities that stretched out
before him was too much to comprehend.
"It was dying by the time I caught it...being out of whatever stuff they live
in for more than a second or two is more than they can take...it pushed
its...thoughts into me...made me see like they see...so many possibilities
going on and on into infinite nothingness..."
The infinite spread of possibilities shrank suddenly as the creature died and
all he could see were his own possibilities...the results of his own choices
and actions...
Ron whimpered softly, the flow of alien thought still an uncomfortable,
unwelcome pressure in his mind. Arms held him tightly against a warm, sweet
smelling body and he gave in to the raw pain the memories awoke in him.
 
Unwilling to disturb Ron's cathartic tears, Healer Monroe gestured Neville over
so as not to interrupt the others in their support of the red head's healing.
Speaking quietly, he explained his summons.
"Would you like to see what I can repair from the Obliviate or would you prefer
to wait until next visit? I know this has been an eventful and emotionally
overwrought day already."
Neville considered the option carefully and frowned. He wasn't sure what would
be dredged up if the Mind Healer was able to repair even part of the damage
done to him by the old Obliviate spell, but he figured he was already dealing
with a lot of old issues - what was one more? With that in mind, he sighed
expressively.
"Let's go ahead and see what you can do today. At this point, I'm a fan of
getting things done."
Octavius just smiled and nodded his approval of the young man's attitude.
"Excellent. Just relax and let me work, Mr. Longbottom. This may feel a little
strange, but do not hesitate to tell me if you feel discomfort or anything
beyond an ache or tugging sensation. Do you understand?"
"Yes, perfectly."
"Then let's begin." Healer Monroe entered the young wizard's mind through the
unique brand of Occulemency used by Mind Healers and homed in on the damage and
residue left behind by an uncalled for Obliviate spell. Carefully unravelling
threads of the spell's fabric, he exposed memories and areas of mental process
that were critical keys to fully controlling magical ability. Shaking after
nearly an hour of intensely focused work, Octavius slowly pulled his
consciousness out of Neville's mind and steadied the boy.
"I have managed to unravel part of it, and more of it may release with careful
work, but I am tiring and I won't chance a mistake. Take the next few days to
get used to what this session has done and let me know when you're ready to
continue." He squeezed the younger wizard's shoulder companionably and chuckled
when he realized the other four teens were watching them with open fascination.
"How are all of you feeling?"
"It gets easier every day," Hermione responded.
"And every one of these sessions makes us better at handling everything," Ron
murmured. "Thanks, Healer Monroe."
"You are all welcome. I am just glad to be able to help."
 
July_15th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
"Dursley, what the bloody hell has been going on in this house?" Moody focused
both eyes on the shaken but angry muggle. "You people act as if Potter has done
something to scare you out of your wits."
"He had his wand out doing freakish things with it," Vernon declared. Seeing a
possible opportunity to get the little bastard in trouble with the rest of the
freaks, he pressed on. "I thought you bloody people were supposed to expel him
for that! He threatened to harm my wife and me when we kindly asked him to do
chores..."
Moody snorted at that. He didn't doubt that Potter might have threatened the
big fat muggle, but he didn't think the boy would follow through on it.
"Has a wand, you say? And he performed magic without receiving any owls?"
"That's what I said. Can't you hear or something?" Vernon backed off a step at
a nasty glare from the old and grizzled auror.
"Interesting," Moody muttered with a smirk, then turned to bellow at the
ceiling. "Potter, come down here now!"
Harry froze when he heard Moody yell for him from the living room. Did he see
my wand? Did Vernon tell him? Damn it to hell! He trotted downstairs, pushing
his glasses up as he went.
"Yeah, Moody? What's up?"
"Let me see your wand, Potter." Moody held out his hand and gestured
demandingly.
Harry bowed up a little, his tone sharpened by the anger he still felt over the
theft of his original wand.
"I don't have my wand. It was taken from me."
"Dursley here tells me you have a wand. Don't play games with me, Potter. I'm
not going to take it away from you. Bloody fool thing to take your wand to
begin with," Moody growled, magical eye spinning as he looked for any sign of a
wand besides his own. Finding none, he arched an eyebrow at Harry. "Well? Go
get it, lad. I don't have all day."
Glaring daggers at Vernon, Harry nodded and reluctantly went back upstairs to
his room. Opening his trunks, he ignored the call of his new wand and selected
one of the other wands that felt close to his old phoenix wand in compatibility
to carry down. Closing everything back up, he returned to the retired auror's
side with the same visible reluctance in his stride.
"You won't take this one away from me, too?"
"No, Potter, you have my word I won't leave you without a wand. Now hand the
bloody thing over." Taking the wand, Moody cast Priori Incantatem and arched an
eyebrow when the last spell cast registered as the cruciatus. Eyeing Harry
curiously, he muttered a couple more spells that caused the wand to glow blue,
then a reddish orange before returning to normal. He handed it back.
"I don't know how you got that or where you got it from and I definitely don't
know you have it," he declared with a mischievous smirk. "But, if someone were
to press you about how you got another wand, you got it from me. Understand?"
"Yes, thank you." Harry relaxed visibly and nodded his understanding. "What did
you do to it that you didn't do?"
"Sharp lad," Moody approved. "I erased the priori record and removed the
Ministry tracking charms, so be the responsible lad that I know you are,
Potter. Don't make me regret doing this."
"You won't regret it." Harry grinned crookedly.
"Keep working on your wandless casting all the same," Moody stated gruffly and
tipped his bowler hat to Harry, then walked out to continue his shift on guard
duty.
"I told you I wouldn't get in trouble for using magic," Harry stated, then spun
on his heel and returned to his room, leaving a fuming and furious Vernon
behind. The fact that he now had two mostly untraceable wands was not lost on
him and he grinned as he tucked the wand he'd shown to Moody in his back
pocket.
 
 
July_15th,_Gringotts
 
Deep below the lobby of the Goblin run bank of Wizarding London, two letters
vanished from a desk in a vault that was clearly the property of an old and
wealthy family. The letters reappeared in Griphook's In Box and he immediately
snatched them up, only to pause when he realized they were not from Harry.
Looking at them a little more closely, his eyes widened with surprise. Hurrying
to the owl roost to mail the letters, he went to the first two of the larger
owls and attached each letter to its own imposing Eagle owl. The Goblin stepped
back and the owls took flight.
Watching the owls disappear into the distance, Griphook smiled a toothy smile
of gleeful anticipation. The events those two letters might set into motion
would interact with everything that was going on around young Harry Potter and
the potential for chaos was greater than anything the tribes had seen in almost
a century.
 
 
July_16th,_French_Ministry_of_Magic
 
A tall, well dressed man with greying light brown hair strode purposefully
through the halls of the French Ministry of Magic. Eyes followed his progress
and many smiled as they recognized his familiar presence. Stepping onto one of
the lifts, his soft, hoarse sounding voice requested the Le Service du Magique
être and he disappeared when it shuddered into motion.
Stepping out of the lift, Remus walked up to the receptionist's desk and smiled
warmly, his amber eyes filling with a mischievous light when the young woman
looked him over and blushed.
"I'm here to see Madame Laroche."
Taking in the very well dressed, handsome wizard who stood before her, the
younger witch smiled back in what she hoped was a charming manner. Picking up a
small square of enchanted paper, she arched an eyebrow at him.
"Your name, Monsieur?"
"Remus Lupin."
Jotting down the message that she had a visitor and the man's name, she tapped
the paper with her wand, causing it to fold itself and vanish.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Lupin. I'll let you know when Madame Laroche is
available to meet with you."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle." Remus seated himself and smoothed his lightweight,
elegant blue robes. Aware of the receptionist's gaze, he smiled to himself and
picked up a copy of the Paris magical newspaper. Sirius would have already
gotten her name, address and a date for this evening, he mused wistfully. He
always was a sly, smooth dog when it came to women. Sighing unhappily, he
forced himself to focus on the paper. One article caught his eye and suddenly
his attention was no longer forced.
 
UNPROVOKED ATTACKS BAFFLE AURORS
 
In recent days, there have been several unexplained killings in Le Magique
Centre Commercial. All of the victims have been half blood or muggle born
witches and wizards who were travelling alone or had, perhaps, been lured away
from their companions. None of the victims appear to be connected to each other
in any other way, and this reporter is most concerned about what the Aurors and
our Magique Agence du Maintien de L'ordre are doing to find the culprits of
these crimes.
All Wizards and Witches are strongly encouraged to travel in groups and to
never go out without your wand. This precaution is especially important to
those of half blood or muggle born descent. Please be prepared to defend
yourselves and report any suspicious activities that you see while going about
your daily business.
More on Pg. 05
 
On a desk further back in the department, a note appeared out of thin air next
to a slender, finely boned hand. Margaux Laroche arched an eyebrow at the
unexpected note and tapped it with her wand to open it. Upon reading its
contents, she smiled her delight.
"Remus! It's about time you got back!," she declared and scrawled a quick
response to the receptionist.
 
Pursing her lips in a brief moue of disappointment, the receptionist discarded
Margaux's reply and called to Remus quietly to get his attention.
"Madame Laroche will see you now, Monsieur Lupin. She said you would be able to
find the location of her office without mishap, but if you wish it, I could
walk you back..."
"That won't be necessary, my dear, but I do appreciate your offer," Remus
replied and rose gracefully, mind spinning with the thoughts one small
newspaper article had spawned. "I am here on a very regular basis."
"Well, if you're certain, then have a good meeting."
 
Wandering through a veritable maze of cubicles and offices, Remus followed his
friend's scent until he found her in her newest office - a perfect spot in the
corner with a large window. Having paused to speak to several other people he
knew well, the news of her promotion was merely confirmed by the sight of her
current locale.
"Hello, Madame Assistant Director Margaux Laroche."
"Remus! It's been months since you stopped in! How are you doing, hmm, you old
Loup?" Smoothing the tall werewolf's dark blue robes, Margaux urged him to have
a seat. "Bring me up to date on what kept you away for so long."
"I was in Ireland for a Council Meeting and I recently stopped through the
Russian and German Ministries," Remus replied, tone hardening as he thought
about what he had learned. "I've either seen signs or have heard reliable
accounts of Death Eater activity as far east as Romania and it's almost all
about recruitment. From the looks of your own newspaper, however, it's about
sowing fear and dissent as well."
"I read that article, the one about the deaths in the shopping district,"
Margaux murmured. "The Aurors are still trying to confirm the exact cause of
death. They believe it might have been the death curse, but there is some
question. The Beauvais twins wanted me to ask you to go see them once you
showed your face again, so I can only assume they have need of your knowledge
of this Dark Lord and his minions."
"I was planning on paying them a visit anyway," Remus murmured. "What have you
heard about the situation in Britain?"
"I try to keep up with what is going on, but lately I just don't know what to
think, Remus. These new laws for unregistered werewolves and magical creatures
in general are poorly thought out and the very fact that they were voted into
active enforcement worries me even more." She sighed unhappily.
"I and my fellow department heads are expecting a possible secondary revolt on
top of the already unstable environment caused by You Know Who and we wouldn't
be surprised by a major influx of immigrants from most walks of the magical
community of the British Isles. They may not all come to us here in France, but
they will certainly be fleeing to the continent. Our laws are less restrictive
and there are more opportunities for them to prosper."
"I know what you mean. If I didn't have reason to go back, I would stay here in
Paris," Remus admitted reluctantly, then snorted gracelessly. "Albus Dumbledore
made a lot of promises, but none of them have come through and I have begun to
seriously doubt his integrity. Most of the Werewolf Tribes have agreed to not
join forces with Voldemort, but some are going to because they see it as an
opportunity for revenge on the Ministry."
"Albus Dumbledore has not been fighting these laws? Are you certain of that?"
Margaux couldn't hide her shock at the idea that Albus Dumbledore would shirk
his duty so blatantly.
"I haven't had a chance to view his voting history, but I plan to do so as soon
as I return to London. I know he could have done more if he had tried to stop
some of the laws, and so far I see no evidence of him trying to stop them."
"Oh, that is not good, Remus...that is not good at all. Please be careful,
Vétéran Loup. Everything I am hearing points to open war soon...a war like you
experienced those years ago. We are all very wary of this Dark Lord. If he is
victorious on British soil, he may turn his gaze to the continent and no one
here wants that. Doux Émerillon, non. Do me a favour and survive this one, too,
okay."
Smiling fondly at the older witch, Remus nodded solemnly. Standing, he hugged
her firmly and sighed into her hair. Part of him wanted to stay here where
people accepted him so easily, but the rest of him knew he had to return to
London - he had a duty to fulfil to his people and to his Cub.
"I will do my best, Mon ami."
 
After talking for a while longer and catching up on all that his friend had
been up to for the past few months, Remus left Margaux's office in the
Department of Magical Creatures (Le Service du Magique être) and headed for The
Department of Magical Transportation (Le Service du Magique Transportation). He
spotted the person he wanted to talk to the moment he stepped into the
reception area.
"Bonjour, Océane! How are you, Mon Ami?" Remus greeted the elegantly
distinguished woman with a fierce hug and a kiss on each cheek. "How do you
like it over here in the Monitoring office?"
"It is very new and quite fascinating," Océane replied with an affectionate
smile. "Come, join me for a café in my office and we will catch up on what Môn
Grand Mauvais Loup has been up to. You look like you have at least been eating
properly of late," she commented motheringly. "I am worried about you, Remus.
Things are becoming quite untenable on the Isles."
"I know it's bad, but I have to go back. My Cub is there."
"You always speak of this Cub, Remus. Get him out of there, too! Bring him to
Paris with you. Surely he would have a better life here than he has in London
right now."
"You Know Who is after him, Océane. Harry would never let me take him away and
endanger more people." Remus stated. "That much I know for certain."
"Why would You Know Who be after a child? He is but a boy, non?"
"He'll be sixteen soon," Remus replied. "That's a long ways from being a mere
boy when you're Harry Potter."
"Oh! I did not know that he was the one you spoke of! Did he truly survive the
Death curse like the stories say he did?"
"Yes, he did."
"That poor, dear child. Well, at least he has a good man like you to look after
him." Océane sighed and shook her head despairingly. "Did Margaux tell you that
the Beauvais twins have been asking after you?"
"Yeah, she told me. It must be serious if they have you passing on the message,
too."
"I have been working with them on a project in the Magique Agence du Maintien
de L'ordre. We do not just monitor Portkey and apparition travellers. We are
tracking them and mapping where they come from and go to."
Intrigued by the possible applications for that kind of information, Remus sat
forward eagerly.
"What have you been able to find out so far?"
"We have had a busy time so far this month," the older witch mused. "It has
mostly been unregistered portkeys that are tripping the monitoring spells we
have in place. The people know to not make them, but does that stop them? Non,
of course not." She frowned a little and shook her head. "The twins will be
able to show you where the majority of the offenders are coming from, but I
want to say it is from your area."
"Do you track apparition as strictly?"
"We only bother with border crossings that do not go to an acknowledged check
point. Those are the only ones who may get up to something without our
knowledge." Pulling a small stack of reports out of her bottom desk drawer, she
quietly murmured the spell to make copies and then handed the copies to Remus.
Meeting his gaze, she smiled a sly little smile. "You know people who can use
the Intel properly. Please use it to end this war as quickly as possible."
"I will. Thank you..."
 
 
An uneasy feeling of impending disaster settled into Remus' stomach after his
visit with Océane. Ever the fastidious ruleminder, the motherly witch had bent
a few rules for him in the past, but this time she had done something bordering
on illegal by giving him the files he now carried shrunken in his pocket. The
rest of her information had been just as disturbing as that one action.
 
Walking faster than usual, he pushed aside the pressing need to return home and
made his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This visit might
turn into a true trial if the twins had serious information for him.
 
"Senior Aurors Beauvais? You have a visitor," a younger Auror announced after
knocking quietly on their doorjamb. "He says his name is Remus Lupin."
"Send him back, then! We've got a lot to discuss with the old man," stated Remi
Beauvais, the elder and darkest of the fraternal twins.
Etienne snorted gracelessly at his sibling and brushed his own blonde hair out
of his face, ice blue eyes meeting Remi's darkest, sapphire blue.
"Old man? How do you figure that? He's four years our junior." He looked over
his shoulder at the Junior Auror. "Well, Facete? Go fetch our guest already!"
"Oh, sorry, sirs!" The Auror vanished on his errand.
 
"I see you two are still terrorizing the newer Aurors," Remus teased. "How have
you two been? Did you ever find a couple birds that were willing to put up with
the pair of you?"
"Like that's going to ever happen," Remi grumbled. "Besides, it isn't like
we've had time to worry about it much, old friend. The climate is so hot in
your neck of the woods that we’re feeling the heat here."
"Madam Molyneux's reporting on illegal Portkey and out of bounds apparition has
kept us more than a bit on edge as well," Etienne added. "Too much of the
activity originates on or near the Isles to leave us feeling secure. We know in
our guts that at least a good portion of it is linked to this Dark Lord, but we
have no direct proof to take to our superiors."
"They move fast." Remi took over. "They're in and out in no more than a few
hours, and it's usually much less time than that; we don't have the manpower to
respond to every ping." He grinned wickedly. "So, we asked Margaux and Océane
to send you over once you crawled back out from under whatever rock you've been
hiding under. Come with us. We have something really special to show you."
"Okay...lead on," Remus murmured and followed the light and dark twins further
into the DMLE offices. "I hope you two aren't going to get into trouble over
showing me this stuff."
"It is no trouble for us," the blonde Auror stated. "We will just say you are a
consultant from Britain like we do every time we bring you back here to talk
shop."
"Besides, it's your second time fighting in a war against this same Dark Lord.
I think that qualifies you as a consultant," the brunette Auror observed. "Here
we are. Visitors first," he declared and urged the werewolf forward into the
room with a playful shove.
"Hey, now!" Remus protested, then froze and stared around the room. Two walls
were covered by large maps, and the third wall to his right held four smaller
maps. He could see the constant changes going on within the borders of each map
and the sight fascinated him. Moving towards the one directly in front of him,
he frowned as dark red, green, blue and black dots appeared and then faded to a
shadowed circle containing tiny coordinates.
"What is this? Are these portkey and apparition coordinates?"
"Very good, Mon ami! Yes, that is exactly what you are looking at. Red is
Portkey, blue is apparition and black is unknown." Grinning broadly at the look
of disbelief on Remus' face, Etienne patted the werewolf on the shoulder and
ignored his glare. "Seriously, Remus. Black really does mean unknown."
"How else would someone travel magically if not by Portkey or apparition?"
Remus mused to himself more than anything, amber eyes bright with the fires of
curiosity and determination. "What are these green dots that leave no
coordinates behind?"
Remi chortled at that question, and grinned at his sulking twin with mischief
in his eyes.
"That one took us ages to figure out and we all felt a bit like idiots once we
finally did get it nailed down. What creature is mostly ignored unless
something doesn't get done, that also needs to travel without giving away the
secret of its comings and goings?"
Watching the intermittent green activity and the way it tended to cluster in
small, tight locations on the map, Remus frowned and considered the clue his
friend had given him. So it doesn't give away secrets, Remus mused and grinned
wolfishly as comprehension filled his amber eyes.
"House Elves."
"Damn, you're quick! Great," Etienne complimented. "And that leaves us with the
unknown forms of magical travel. Some of them leave coordinates and some of
them don't. There are a few types and Margaux has been a great help with the
set up of this mapping system. It shows current activity in the region. One of
the smaller maps is a tally for incoming apparition, one for incoming Portkey,
one each for outgoing of the same nature. The other wall size map is the full
historical tracking of travel since we started this project six months ago."
"Are you tracking your 'visitors' by their own magical signature or by the
signature of the portkey? Can you tell if they used a different Portkey to
return or if the one they had was created as a round trip?"
"Damn, Remus. You're on a roll today, aren't you, Loup?" Remi laughed good
naturedly. "We track apparition by the magical signature, so we know if the
same person leaves a distance away from their original arrival point. We track
the actual Portkey itself since that is where the coordinates are stored. We
can tell if a Portkey was roundtrip by the way the coordinates read on the
map."
"That's good information to have, at least," Remus mused quietly and drifted
over to the historical tracking map.
"Great Britain," he murmured and the map shifted to show only the requested
country. "Brilliant!" Studying it intently, he continued to close the view down
until he was looking at each map quadrant individually.
Remi nudged Etienne and grinned wickedly. He arched an eyebrow when his brother
shrugged and returned the grin.
"I knew he would be able to figure something out if we let him loose on this
thing."
"Of course he will; this is personal for him," Etienne murmured. "This bastard
killed his best friends." He sighed softly. "It is not fair that he should have
to go through this same nightmare again. At least we only have to worry about
it in a serious way if the Brits drop the ball."
"Don't be so sure of that, Mes Amis," Remus commented and pulled up two
sections of the British map in particular, followed by the quadrants
surrounding the perimeter of Paris' magical district. "There is a high degree
of activity coming in and out of the London area and a heavy concentration
coming into and out of Little Hangleton. From what little I have learned from
my contacts during my travels, Little Hangleton is where You Know Who was
reborn a little over a year ago. This may be the proof you need that he is
already a problem for you. Little Hangleton is mostly Muggle, I believe. Who
else would be using it as a magical base camp?"
"So we do have pinpointed Death Eater activity here in Paris," Etienne growled.
"Thanks, Remus. Maybe now we can start heavier patrols on those areas."
"It does pinpoint the fact that there is activity, but it doesn't show if
they're coming and going individually or as groups, or if one Death Eater comes
in and portkeys out with a group of recruits...are you able to track that
information through these spells you've got set up?"
"You're brilliant, Remus! We'll talk to Margaux and find out if we can get that
kind of information out of the spell residue." Etienne kissed Remus soundly on
both cheeks and beamed at him before laughing at the gobsmacked look on the
younger man's face. "You Brits are so uptight! Live a little, Remus. Remi and
I, we'll take you out and show you how the French party so we know you'll go
home smiling."
Remi added his own quiet laughter to the mix and patted Remus on the shoulder.
"Don't mind my mad man of a brother. I promise we won't keep you out past your
bedtime."
"Prats. I can drink you both under the table and you know it," Remus grumbled
good naturedly.
"Yes, but we'll make sure you have fun while you're doing it," Etienne
clarified. "So, any more observations on our wonderful tracking system?"
"Um, yes, actually. Once you brought up house elves, I started thinking of
other groups that might use alternative forms of magical travel." Remus
grinned. "Being a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor does have a few uses.
In this case, check with the vampires if there are any willing to talk to you.
They use a form of magic tied to the blood in their own bodies, I believe. It's
different from normal blood magic, so their travel spells may be one of your
unknowns."
"Wonderful. Any other ideas?"
"Not immediately, but I'll owl you if anything comes to me while I'm away. This
system is simply amazing, you two. Where did you get the idea? I've never seen
anything like it."
"Sure you have," Remi stated. "You got us started when you told us how to make
a map like the one you and your friends made in school. We just took the idea
to our Research department and this is the end result."
"So all of those questions you kept owling me with weren't for personal
mischief at all? You were picking my brain to build a security system?" Remus
couldn't resist he pleased grin that felt like it would split his face.
"Oh, we got into our fair share of personal mischief with the information you
gave us, but most of it did go into this project," Etienne admitted
reluctantly. "Are you proud of us?" he asked jokingly.
"Oh, Merlin, yes. This is brilliant!" The werewolf just shook his head. "So,
where are we going on this night on the town?"
 
 
July_17th,_St._Mungo's,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
"I, uh, don't exactly know how to ask this." Ginny sighed expressively.
"Just say what's on your mind, Miss Weasley. There is no wrong way to phrase
something." Healer Monroe grinned and qualified his statement. "Not while
you're in this office, at least."
Smiling at his comment, Ginny nodded and smacked Hermione on the back of the
head even as the older witch coughed to keep from laughing out loud.
"That helps a lot, actually, thanks. Hush, Hermione," she teased. "Um, why
isn't all of this bothering me more? Everything I went through with Tom, it was
just awful. He used me to hurt my friends...people I care about."
Considering what he knew from having shared memories with all five teens during
their last several sessions, Healer Monroe gathered his thoughts before
answering.
"To a degree, this answer may apply to all of you, but if you have specific
questions, please ask," he began. "The memories were always present, but
unavailable to your conscious mind, for the last several years. I believe your
subconscious has been dealing with the trauma in subtle, quiet ways for the
most part. Your nightmares were definitely not subtle, Ginny, but they were a
lot more subtle than reliving everything the way we have been for the last week
or so."
Healer Monroe looked each of the five teens in the eye and nodded
encouragingly.
"I bet your nightmares and dreams make a lot more sense now than they used to."
"I used to have the weirdest dreams," Neville murmured. "Now I know I was
dreaming about the night the Lestranges attacked my parents. Things are
clearer." He frowned pensively. "I'd like to see if there is any more of the
Obliviate that you can remove, Healer Monroe. It really seems to be helping my
memory, if nothing else."
"I will do everything I can, Mr. Longbottom. Once we finish this discussion, I
will give it another try if that suits everyone?" Receiving no negative
responses, he nodded. "How about the rest of you? Miss Granger? Mr. Weasley?
Miss Lovegood?"
"I just want to know how the Death Eaters were able to get into the Department
of Mysteries and how we got in so easily," Hermione declared. "That has been
bothering me since we walked into the atrium that night. Where was the security
checkpoint guard? Where were the Aurors?"
"I have posted an inquiry into that very matter, Miss Granger. Our...the
security of the Ministry must have been compromised from within. No other
explanation makes any sense without completely defying logic." Healer Monroe
hoped his almost mistake was overlooked by the inquisitive teens - there was no
way he was going to get out of explaining what he had been about to say if
Hermione pushed it.
"I'm just trying to get used to having this weird roadmap in my head," Ron
murmured. "I never really understood consequences...cause and effect...before
that Brain latched onto me. It's...it's so difficult to explain, but I have to
explain it now because it will do more harm than good if I don't...you'll think
I don't trust any of you when I do. I trust you all with my life, so I have to
trust you with my thoughts, or part of them at least."
"We just want you to heal, Ron," Neville stated. "That's all any of us wants
right now - to heal and be whole for the first time in longer than I care to
think about."
"This other way of thinking is mostly blended in with my own now," Ron mused
and nodded to acknowledge Neville's statement. "I see so many more moves ahead
than I used to and it's a little scary to know even the slightest bit of what
might happen if you do something major. It isn't always right up front. Most of
the time, I can ignore it, but when a major event is coming up, my head hurts
from all of the options, sometimes. Does that make any sense at all?"
"Given how Chess teaches you to think, yes, it does make a bit of sense,"
Hermione commented. "One thing it means is our chances of beating you at the
game are shot worse than before." She laughed quietly and then sobered. "It
sounds like a gift that could very easily be seen as a curse. I bet you can't
decide which it is sometimes."
"Most of the time, you mean," Ron quipped half heartedly.
 
 
July_17th,_Romanian_Longhorn_Dragon_Reservation
 
"It's about bloody time you were here for a visit," Charlie declared and smiled
warmly at the potions master. "What have you been up to so far this summer
besides rejoicing in the lack of children under your care?"
"I've been gathering potions ingredients for several delicate projects,"
Severus replied with a slight grimace. "I knew I would need a horn from one of
your great beasts, so I made this my last stop."
"Ah, now the ulterior motive is brought to light," Charlie drawled in a direct
imitation of his snarky companion. "I see how it is. So, how long can you stay?
You look tired."
"I have a day or two at the most before I must return to my home and begin
work," Severus replied, his lips twitching up into a brief smile over Charlie's
antics. "There is also a meeting of the Order in less than a week and I'd like
to be rested before having to deal with those imbeciles as well."
"Now, Severus, they're not all imbeciles," the Dragon Keeper pointed out with a
grin. "If they were, they'd already be out of your hair courtesy of a Death
Eater raid."
Nodding his grudging acceptance of his friend's observation, the Head of
Slytherin grinned a little more.
"Don't you get enough danger here? Are you considering doing missions for the
Order, too?"
Laughing outright at that, Charlie stopped walking and shook his head at the
slightly older wizard.
"This danger I understand. I can predict what most of my dragons will do in any
given situation. Now you, you go toe to toe with a far more dangerous breed,
one I couldn't even begin to predict if I tried. How can you stand that kind of
constant uncertainty?"
"I suppose that, like you, I know my dragons very well. They are both powerful
and experienced, wily and temperamental. One day I may miscalculate a reaction
and get stepped on or eaten, but until then, my expertise is desperately
needed."
Silenced by that matter of fact explanation, Charlie sighed his exasperation
and let the subject drop. It wouldn't serve any purpose to start a fight and
the stubborn man wasn't going to stop spying because of something he said to
him, anyway.
"What all did you have to collect for this 'delicate' project?"
"Fluxweed, fresh Re'em blood, a rare type of Black Hellebore and a horn from a
Romanian Long Horn Dragon," Severus replied with a satisfied smile. "I arrived
here late last night after leaving the eastern coast of America. I believe it
was North Carolina, but I could be mistaken." Severus mused about his travels
for a moment before shrugging. "Lovely place, really. Fluxweed grows wild
there, and given the fact that I needed it picked during the dark moon, I chose
to collect it personally. The cost to order it would have been outrageous."
"I thought Fluxweed needed to be collected at the Full moon, not the dark
moon," Charlie observed. "I know you need it for Polyjuice potion."
"For temporary transformation potions, you are correct in thinking it would
need to be collected during the full moon," Severus replied, his tone full of
pride for his friend's memory of potions ingredients. "However, I needed this
Fluxweed to have a quality of permanence, thus the requirement that it be
gathered at the dark of the moon."
Smiling under Severus' approving gaze, Charlie nodded his understanding.
"I didn't know that, but I'll remember in case it ever comes up again. I guess
you went to get it yourself because you didn't want to chance that a black
market supplier would send you the wrong kind just because they didn't feel
like collecting it properly," he ventured.
"Exactly correct." Taking in the sight of several new dragon enclosures,
Severus arched an eyebrow. "How many new dragons have you added since I was
here last?"
"Well, we got Norbert, a Norwegian Ridgeback, from Hagrid a few years ago and
this is his new pen. He's grown immensely since we got him as a hatchling.
We've also gotten a dozen more dragons including a mated pair of Chinese
Fireballs and a mature Hungarian Horntail bull."
"You have been busy, I see. That explains the newer burn scars," the Head of
Slytherin mused. "Busy indeed. And you have the cheek to tease me about my
dragons." He shook his head, obsidian eyes full of amusement.
"Right, right. So? Where else did you go gallivanting off to?"
Recounting his trip to Greece for the Hellebore and his visit to mainland China
for the Re'em blood, the spy fell into a far more relaxed and animated mode of
interaction with his younger friend. Eyes bright with the passion he felt for
his craft, he laughed at one point in his tale.
"An old acquaintance of mine lives in China and he owled me a while back about
a business venture he was taking a chance on. Apparently most countries have
Re'em blood and parts on their restricted lists, making it quite difficult for
potions makers and masters to obtain the ingredients they need to make a lot of
the rarer potions. He sells directly to those he is acquainted with
irregardless of what country you live in."
"And this is funny because...?" Charlie arched an eyebrow at Severus, his
confusion clearly evident on his face.
"He invited me to stay for a day or two and I accepted. He spent every waking
moment sending one or the other of his daughters my way with the intent that
they should make me feel welcome..." Ears darkening under Charlie's now
laughing gaze, Severus grumbled before continuing his story. He smirked. "I
didn't have the heart to tell him that there was nothing appealing to me about
a pair of 16 year old, barely pubescent girl children, let alone the fact that
I have never found a woman to be attractive...If I had told him, he might have
sent his son." He shuddered visibly. "Thank Merlin he didn't catch on."
Charlie blinked at his friend for several long moments. He had often wondered
if the snarky wizard was gay since he never seemed to show any interest in
women, but he hadn't been curious enough to ask outright. With that question
answered, the sight of the snarky Potions Master with such a disgusted
expression on his face cracked him up yet again.
"What was wrong with his son?" he finally managed to ask.
"Nothing that I could see beyond the fact that he was a fourteen year old
prepubescent boy-child. Do you see the trend here, Charlie? The very thought of
someone sending a child the age of my students to my bed..." Severus shuddered
again. "Thank you, but no. I much prefer the company of adults."
"Poor Severus Snape, almost got married off to some little girl or boy in
China. What would the world come to if you did tie the knot?" the red head
shook his head and chuckled at Severus' sour look.
"I would be permanently scarred by the shock if anyone were to actually take
notice of the event," Severus drawled caustically and decided it was high time
he changed the subject. "Have you seen signs of any Death Eater activity? I
know this area is home to several werewolf packs of note and the Dark Lord has
been hoping to recruit as many werewolves as possible."
"There hasn't been much, really. The Shadow Spires told us to go ahead and send
any suspicious people their way," Charlie mused. "We did have a small group of
six or eight wizards come through. It was a month or so back, I think. They
were asking about the Shadow Spires, so we directed them on down to the village
and they vanished."
"Hmm, funny thing, that. Do you think the werewolves killed them?"
"Not directly, no. The Pack Leader said they'd send the really persistent sorts
like Death Eaters up the Spire to see the Count, the local vampire elder."
Charlie shrugged gaelically. "The wolf packs and the vampires don't bother us
Dragon Keepers, so I don't worry too much about anyone fool enough to climb
that mountain looking for trouble."
Severus just arched one eyebrow expressively and nodded. He could all too
easily appreciate the value of his friend's unexpected point of view.
"So, what else have you been doing out here in the wilds of Romania?"
 
July17th,_Ministry_of_Magic
Seated before a Pensive, Octavius Monroe methodically selected memories and
drew them from his mind before placing the silvery strands in the magical bowl.
An enchanted quill was poised in midair above a stack of parchment awaiting his
command.
"Begin, he murmured and immersed himself in the memories he had recently shared
with five young people during their counselling sessions. Recording is
observations memory by memory, he notated some comments as being for the
hospital's record only and some that would only be added to the files kept by
the Unspeakables.
How did Rookwood manage to hang on for so long in the Unspeakables wearing that
bastard's mark on his arm? We do random checks for that kind of thing...that's
one more thing for me to look in to.
Making note to double check current procedures, he continued with his viewing
while the quill at his side scratched out his notes rapidly. Exiting the
Pensive over three hours later, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes,
hands rising to scrub at his face. Since beginning his sessions with the five
teens that had followed Harry Potter into the Department of Mysteries, he had
learned more about them than he would have normally expected to. What surprised
him was how little they all seemed to say about The Boy Who Lived.
"What's the matter, Octavius? I haven't seen you burning this much midnight oil
in years," Mina teased gently. "I'm going to run out of tea at the rate you're
going." She cocked her head to one side and arched one fine, delicately arched
brow. "It's those children again, isn't it."
Amused by the lack of question in the woman's last comment, Octavius chuckled
and started to deny that there was a problem, but he knew her better than that;
Mina would persist until he left in a huff or he broke down and told her what
the problem was.
"N-Alright, yes, this whole situation smells bad and it's driving me crazy that
all I seem to be able to do with this case is sit back and gather evidence for
the eventuality that we actually get to nail someone for what they did to these
teens." Octavius groaned and shook his head.
"There's a lot missing and Potter seems to be the key, but they don't talk
about him beyond the occasional mention that he was the one who did this or
that. Ronald Weasley passed on the information that Mr. Potter would come in
once he was able, but I have no idea what that will be or why he can't just
show up whenever he wants to."
"Now, Octavius, you will find out what you are supposed to know in due time,"
Mina stated, effectively derailing his rant. "Mr. Potter will show up when he
is ready to do so and not a single moment sooner."
"I know you're right, but the longer this drags out, the greater the chance
that they'll all be Obliviated before I can manage to help them!"
Smiling affectionately, Mina shook her head at the Mind Healer's fervour. As an
Unspeakable and as a Mind Healer, he had always been dedicated and passionate
about his work, but this case, this unique situation, had inspired him far
beyond his usual involvement.
"You don't really believe that will happen or you would have been pushing
harder. Relax, Octavius. Let this mystery unravel itself for just a little
while longer."
Sighing heavily, Octavius nodded; she was correct and he knew it, but that
didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
 
 
July_17th,_Hôtel_Luxembourg,_Paris,_France
Waking slowly, Remus frowned at the annoyingly insistent tapping sound that
grated on his nerves and aggravated his mild hangover. Who would be knocking
now? He wondered. It was a great party. I'd be half dead if I wasn't a
werewolf...I KNOW those two insane Aurors are out like rocks. He'd gone out
with a few French Ministry employees the previous night to properly celebrate
his return home. Oh, how he loved visiting France...The tapping became - if
possible - even more insistent and he finally realized what was making the
infernal racket.
"Ruddy owl," he growled and padded over to the window to let the huge black
bird into his room and took the letter it offered with an imperious thrust of
its leg. Remus shook his head and growled softly, his amber eyes flaring with a
primal spark of pleasure when the imposing owl hopped back a bit and flared up
defensively. The Wolf huffed its amusement.
"Thanks. Sorry to keep you waiting."
If it were possible for an owl to snort, then this one did. It also screeched
at him in a tone that made the slightly hung over werewolf moan softly and look
around for something to feed the thing. Gaze lighting on his dinner plate from
the night before, he offered it a chunk of steak and a tea cup of water.
"Water?" Remus sighed his relief when the meat vanished like magic and, after a
little bit of the water, the large, dangerous looking bird flew out the window
from whence it came.
"Thank bloody Merlin. Damnable owls!"
Shaking his head, Remus was finally able to focus on the letter the owl had
just delivered. The Potter Seal was facing him from the back of the letter;
just seeing that familiar seal pressed into wax - such a simple yet formal
sight - and knowing that it had been done so many years ago broke his heart all
over again. Flipping it over, he recognized her handwriting and drew in a
shuddery breath. He obeyed the powerful compulsion to open the letter and her
scent rushed up in an almost overwhelming wave.
"Lily..." he whispered, tears already tracking down his face as that one word
declared the pain of his loss to an empty room. Unable to stand any longer, he
sank down onto the side of the bed and started to read.
 
Dearest Remus,
If you are reading this, then the worst has come to pass and James and I are
dead. I am so sorry, Remus. If it could have happened any other way, then I
would have had it be so. It is time for you to remember your vows, brother of
my heart. Please forgive me for the pain I have caused you and for what I had
to do to protect my son.
 
Finishing the first paragraph unleashed the magic inside the letter and Remus'
head felt like it had exploded. Whimpering his pain, he slid from the bed to
lie bonelessly on the floor as memories bombarded his mind and the darkness of
oblivion rushed up to meet him.
 
Remus groaned softly and reluctantly opened his eyes to mere slits so he could
look around his hotel room. The brightness told him it was still fairly early
in the day, but hours after he had originally awakened and the hard surface
beneath him let him know he had fallen to the floor at some point. The light
stabbed at his eyes and he blinked rapidly, this pain a minor consideration
compared to the gaping wounds he felt in his mind and heart.
 
"My Cub," he whispered brokenly and slowly turned his head, only to flinch when
his gaze fell on the letter that lay open beside him. It served as a blunt and
unforgiving reminder of how he had been used by Dumbledore for over a decade,
but worse still, it reminded him of the vow he had been kept from fulfilling.
Freed of layer upon layer of trust and loyalty compulsions, he felt equal parts
lighter and heavier as his Wolf's rage flared in tandem with his own intense
need to avenge the wrongs done to himself and his pack. Throwing his head back,
he howled mournfully as grief washed away the rage for the time being.
Returning to his more rational, human senses after an unknown period of time,
the werewolf finally took note of his surroundings and the letter that lay at
his side. Picking it up with shaking hands, he shifted around into a more
comfortable position.
"All your leashes are gone now, you manipulative old bastard." He snarled
silently and focused on the graceful handwriting of the long dead woman he had
called Sister.
 
What we feared must have come to pass. Dumbledore convinced Sirius that he was
too obvious a choice for Secret Keeper and honestly, he was, but Peter shy,
meek Peter...he betrayed us. I often wondered if Albus didn't manoeuvre him
into place like all the rest of his 'pawns'. Very little would surprise me now.
You are my son's Guardian Wolf, bound first by your intense devotion to his
safety and then by the blood you shed to ensure that safety. He's your Cub now,
Remus. Go to him and keep him as safe as you can without smothering him. Make
sure he has a good life. Merlin knows his life couldn't have been easy if Albus
got involved.
I don't know who else will still be alive by the time my boy turns sixteen, but
seek out whoever of us has carried on. Find whoever is left and live.
Love always,
Your Sister,
Lily Marie Evans Potter
 
Shaking with grief once more, Remus cast several more privacy charms before
collapsing into a foetal ball on the floor. Breathing in the scent that still
lingered on Lily's letter, the once distant sense of loss lay open and bloody -
all but two of his pack were dead and he finally gave way to it as wracking
sobs shook his lean body.
 
July_18th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Moody observed Harry for the first part of his shift until the young wizard
left the house for the back yard. He decided that now might be a good time to
test out the boy's reflexes while he was busy doing something that would keep
his mind occupied. He moved around the house to the back yard once the boy was
situated and focused on his gardening.
 
Escaping to the back yard for some much needed sunshine and fresh air, Harry
stripped off his over sized T-shirt and fetched the garden tools out of the
shed. Losing himself in the simple pleasures of working his hands into the cool
soil, pulling weeds and planting flowers, he smiled to himself.
 
Observing the young wizard for some time, the retired auror nodded his
approval. It would seem that their warning to the Dursleys had born some fruit,
at least. The boy had put on some weight and visible muscle just in the last
few weeks and still seemed to move with the loose grace so typical of young
athletes. Slowly stalking the young wizard, Mad-Eye moved closer, wand at the
ready and a stupefy on his lips just waiting to be uttered.
Busily planting several packs of new flowers, hands nearly black from the damp
soil, Harry raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. He inhaled deeply
and smelled the freshly turned earth, the water...and magic that was not his
own.
Not questioning how he knew this, he simply let the subtle rustle of a cloak
tell him where his target was standing before instinct had his arm drawn back.
A sharp motion later and he heard the trowel 'thunk' into the wooden fence and
the quiet cursing of a voice he knew only too well. A glance up showed the
still vibrating garden tool to be quite solidly stuck in the fence.
"Hello, Moody. So sorry, thought you might have been a Death Eater."
"What's the meaning of all this ruckus out here, Boy? You better not have any
of those freakish friends of yours out here with you!" Vernon blustered, face
purple.
Harry looked over his shoulder at the much larger man and smiled coldly.
"If I do, you'll do nothing," Harry stated calmly. "Or do I need to remind you
of why you'll do as I say and go back inside the house?"
Vernon paled noticeably and shook his head, eyes darting as he retreated back
into the house without another word.
"Thank Merlin," the teen growled. "I'm glad you dodged that, by the way. That
would have hurt if it had hit you, but it's like I always hear you say -
Constant Vigilance and all that mess." Harry walked over and wrenched the
trowel loose from the fence board. "Were you here to do something besides hex
me?"
"You're quick as a bloody snake, just like Kingsley said," Mad-Eye muttered;
the flare of something not very nice in the boy's eyes did not go unnoticed.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I just knew you were there," he answered honestly enough. He wasn't quite sure
of the mechanics of how he had known right this moment himself. "I'm used to
people attacking me. After a while, you can feel when someone is nearby, you
can feel the intent to attack."
"I can't argue with that, boy, but who's been attacking you often enough to
develop the kind of combat sense you have?"
"Dudley and his gang, Tom and his gang, Draco and his gang, my Aunt and Uncle
at times, other students, Dementors, teachers...Need I go on?"
"Nooo, I think that about does it," Mad-Eye stated. "What did you do to the big
fat muggle to make him shake in his shoes like that?"
Green eyes full of amusement, Harry stared at the space where the invisible
auror was most likely standing and sneered in a frighteningly good imitation of
Severus Snape.
"I haven't done anything to the Dursleys, Mad-Eye."
The only thing about that statement that bothered the retired auror was the
dangling, unspoken 'yet'.
"See to it that you keep it that way, eh, Potter?"
"Sure, Mad-Eye."
 
July_18th,_Romanian_Longhorn_Dragon_Preserve
 
Settling in to enjoy dinner with Charlie Weasley and the rest of the dragon
handlers, Severus smirked at the younger man who had just made a jab about his
resemblance to a large bat.
"My resemblance to a large, overgrown bat not withstanding, I certainly never
have any trouble keeping my students in line, so it must have some benefit."
Chuckling merrily, Charlie shook his head at the snarky potions professor.
Though sarcastic, caustic and often outright vicious, then man was intensely
loyal and Charlie never doubted his ability to count on him in a pinch.
"Too true, though their terror of you might have something to do with it. Don't
you think scaring little Firsties half to death is a bit in the way of
overkill?" He nudged the older wizard playfully and sobered.
"You're brewing something important. It has to be, what with everything you've
collected."
"It is very important," Severus murmured for Charlie's ears only. "So much so
that getting it wrong could mean my death and getting it right could give us a
window of opportunity against the Dark Lord."
Charlie whistled softly, brown eyes worried.
"Nothing much riding on your shoulders, is there?" he sighed explosively.
"Nothing much at all..."
Severus' reply was interrupted by the arrival of a large Gringotts owl. His
eyes followed the bird as it swooped in and landed on the table in front of him
and offered its leg. He quickly untied the letter and went perfectly still when
he saw the crest that was pressed into the sealing wax. Making no protest when
the bird ate from his plate and drank from his goblet, he struggled to breathe
through the indescribably powerful urge to tear the letter open and read it.
"Severus? What's wrong?" Charlie didn't like the ghostly paleness this unopened
letter had reduced the older man to. "Isn't that the Potter Crest?"
Severus jerked back to alertness at the sound of Charlie's question, his black
eyes a bit wild.
"Yes, it's the Potter Crest," he whispered. "I have to go...to my
room...I'll...I need to be alone..."
Following Severus out of the common room with his gaze, Charlie vowed to go
check on him in an hour or two.
"That can't have been good news."
 
Locking his door behind him, Severus cast the first privacy charm he could
think of before sitting down on the bed that was the Spartan room's main
feature. Seeing how badly his hands were shaking, he took several deep breaths
and slowly calmed himself to the point where he could open the letter with
steady hands.
 
Severus,
If you are reading this, then James and I are dead and I can honestly assure
you that you had no hand in the betrayal that took our lives. The bonds that we
all shared would not allow it. It is time for you to remember the vows you
spoke and sealed in blood, brother of my soul. Please forgive me for any pain I
may have caused you to endure and for what I had to do to protect my son.
 
Darkness swallowed Severus' consciousness the moment he read the word 'son'.
The magic that had obscured his memories of a ritual performed almost fifteen
years prior was undone by the charm that Lily Potter wove into the very
parchment of her letter and with her charm came a number of spells that had
been laid on top of it over the years. Swept clean by the power of blood magic,
his mind began the process of emotional assimilation.
 
Severus woke to the painful racket of someone pounding on his door and calling
out to him with audible concern. Recognizing Charlie's voice and knowing the
persistent Dragon handler would not leave until he knew Severus was unharmed,
he unlocked the door with a gesture and slowly sat up, head cradled in both
hands.
"Please DO be quiet, Charlie. A herd of mad Hippogriffs has just trampled
through my skull," he half hissed, half whispered.
"I heard you scream, Severus. What happened?" Charlie conjured a simple chair
and sat down, gaze on the obviously miserable Potions Master. "It was a bad
letter?"
"No, it isn't that it was a bad letter," Severus murmured quietly. "It simply
reminded me of old vows and a duty I swore myself to fifteen years ago."
Swallowing nervously, Charlie ventured a cautious question.
"Is it for You Know Who?"
"No, it's not about the Dark Lord, not directly and it's definitely not for
him." Severus scrubbed his face with both hands and met the unflinching gaze of
one of his few friends.
"Lily Potter asked something of me those many years ago and I will do
everything in my power to see it through."
"I thought you were on bad terms with the Potters."
"Don't believe everything you have been taught or told about that time,
Charlie. Lily was like a sister to me. Now, I intend to rail at the gods for a
while, so if you would be so kind as to leave me to it, I would be very
grateful."
Charlie nodded with a small grin. That sounded more like the Severus Snape that
he had known for years.
"Alright, I'll leave you to it, but if you need to talk, you know where I am,
old friend. Do try not to hurt yourself, okay."
"I'm already hurt enough," Severus whispered, all the memories of how he had
treated Harry so hatefully for the last five years tearing at him. Snarling
soundlessly, he cast several more spells so he could throw his tantrum in
peace, then let loose with a string of self-depreciating curses.
 
Calmer now, for the moment at least, the Potions Master sat back down on his
bed and picked up Lily's letter.
 
What we feared the most must have come to pass - we made Peter our Secret
Keeper and he betrayed us. Whether he did so as a salve to his own weakness or
at the outside urging of a manipulative old man, well, I'm sure I know the
truth in death.
You are Harry's Left Hand, his Mentor, bound first by the love I know you feel
for him no matter how often you scoffed about it and then by the blood you shed
to protect him. Go to him, Severus. Help him learn how to survive in the world
our follies have created. Help him learn to live. If Albus was involved in his
life...his life has most surely been very harsh.
Seek out those of our number that remain. You'll need all the help you can get.
After all, he is MY son.
 
Love always,
Your Sister,
Lily Marie Evans Potter
 
Collapsing onto the yielding surface of his narrow bed, Severus clutched the
letter to his chest and cried out his loss, his grief and his pain. His anger
would return later - for now, there was only the memory of the friends, the
family, he had lost.
 
 
Translations:
Oc Dager - Goblin for Young Warrior
Sheklac - Goblin for Chieftain
Mon Grand Mauvais Loup - My big bad wolf
Vétéran Loup - Old Wolf
Doux Émerillon - Sweet Merlin
Magique Agence du Maintien de L'ordre - Magical Law Enforcement Agency
Le Service du Magique être - Department of Magical Creatures
Le Service du Magique Transportation - Department of Magical Transportation
***** Seeking Truth and Freedom *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run. May
contain het and/or slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Pairing:None currently.
Disclaimer:I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J. K. Rowling’s characters. Pity, that…
 
// Parseltongue //
Thoughts & Mindspeech
Letters, etc.
 
AN: This story is taking on a life of its own in my head and I am currently
working on Chapters 8-10 simultaneously. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you
think. Thanks again to all who read and for all of your reviews!
 
“…I know your anger, I know your dreams
I've been everything you want to be…”
- Living Colour, ‘Cult of Personality’
 
July_19th,_The_Lovegood_Residence
 
Humming quietly to herself, Luna watched her father work at his printing press
and smiled her contentment. This was always the most peaceful time for her, a
time when she could fully focus on the world around her.
“Have you heard anything on the Niblumper Migration or the Crumple-horn
Snorkack lately, hmm, Daddy?”
“Nothing recently, Sweetheart. Have you heard anything?” Oddment Lovegood
turned his focus to his daughter and sighed quietly. She was growing up to be
so much like her mother and that scared him and reassured him at the same time.
His Luna was a very special young lady.
“I haven’t heard anything good like that, no,” Luna replied. “It’s nice to have
friends for once, though. This has been a really good summer.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with a couple of the Weasley’s right?”
“Ronald and Ginevra.” Smiling secretively, she nodded. “Hermione and Neville
have been very nice companions as well. Hopefully Harry will be able to escape
his awful relatives soon so he can come visit us.”
“How are things going with that Healer? You seem to be enjoying your visits
with him. Is he a handsome young man?” Oddment grinned over his own wit and
then laughed outright when his daughter threw him a disapproving glare. “Ah, so
he is, eh? No wonder you girls…”
“He’s your age, at least, Daddy. Don’t be silly.” Luna shook her head at her
father and grinned over his antics. “I didn’t really need a lot of help from
Healer Monroe, not like the others. He does have a fascinating mind, however,
so it’s no surprise that he’s an Unspeakable.”
Coughing, Oddment stared at his daughter while his mind raced to catch up and
process what Luna had just said.
“He’s an Unspeakable…why?”
“We were in the Department of Mysteries, Daddy. It only makes sense that they’d
have an Unspeakable work with us. They wouldn’t want everyone else to know what
we know.”
“Do your friends know about his affiliations?”
“Not yet, but Hermione will figure it out soon enough. She’s very smart.”
“So I hear…” Shaking his head, Oddment grinned a little and sighed again. “Are
his intentions focused on your best interests or is he mostly on a fact finding
mission?”
“He’s very concerned about what happens to all of us,” Luna replied matter of
factly. “I think he’s more upset about some of the things that have happened to
us than any of us are. Don’t worry yourself about Healer Monroe, Daddy. He
won’t betray our confidences and he’ll help us when he’s able.”
“Good. So, do you want to do any travelling this summer?”
“I think I’ll pass on travelling this summer. Harry will be back with us soon,
and that’s when things are going to get really exciting. You may even have some
really fun things to print for the paper here very soon.”
“Oh, like what?” Oddment asked eagerly. He loved strange and unusual stories.
“Werewolf Tribes and a strange new snake species,” Luna breathed, her tone
flat. “A pedestal has been shattered, never to be rebuilt…”
“Sweetheart? Luna? Can you hear me?” Oddment avoided touching his daughter
until her eyes actually focused on him and brightened with a smile that faded
almost immediately to a small frown.
“Did I go away again, Daddy?”
“Only for a moment, Sweetheart. You talked about werewolves and a new species
of snake…and a broken pedestal. Do you have any idea what it means?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure to find out,” Luna mused quietly. “Can I bring my
friends over if we need to be away from anyone who might be too nosy about what
we’re doing?”
“Of course you can. The back room here at the shop is warded if that’s what you
need.”
“Thanks so much, Daddy!” Luna hugged her father fiercely and bounced back with
a grin. “This summer is going to be the best ever. I promise.”
 
July_19th,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Harry glanced over at his Occulemency book and shook his head wearily, one hand
dragging through his already unruly black locks and mussing them further. He
had to beat this problem, this…fear he had developed. He had to, or his mental
defences would never be strong enough. Thinking back on his last attempt at
organizing his mind, the young wizard shuddered.
 
– Flashback –
Sinking into a deep trance, Harry looked around his Core and groaned. The mess
was worse than ever thanks to his panicked flight of a few days prior.
“Time for some house cleaning,” he muttered under his breath and reached for a
memory so he could toss it into the appropriate trunk. As soon as he touched
it, he knew he was in trouble, but was yanked into the memory so quickly that
he couldn’t escape it the way he had before.
Back in the memory as Tom, facing off against the bullies, he shook his head in
denial.
“No, not this again…” he breathed, the sound more reminiscent of a whimper than
words. He kicked and beat the oldest bully until there was blood coming out of
his mouth and he had long since lost consciousness. Then his own mind betrayed
him by superimposing images of Dudley and Piers over the bloody mass at his
feet and finally the memory released its hold on his mind.
– End Flashback –
 
Panting, face in his hands, Harry groaned deep in his chest and shivered
continuously. Bombarded by feelings of pleasure, triumph, pride, power and
revulsion and struggling with the internal conflict evoked by remembering that
scene again, Harry slowly calmed him self and realized he had absolutely no
choice but to get his mind in order. He could afford no weaknesses and this was
a critical weakness that Albus and Tom would readily exploit if he gave them
the opportunity.
“Besides,” he mused to the empty room. “I may be able to use some of those
memories to my advantage.”
Comforted by that very Slytherin piece of logic and sitting up straighter than
he had in days, Harry descended back into jumbled mess of his own mind and
started a much needed clean up.
 
Hours later, feeling immeasurably better for having faced his fears regarding
Tom’s memories, Harry sat and ate the meal that Dobby had delivered for him. He
frowned pensively as his thoughts wandered to issues that he hadn’t really
considered before now.
Does it bother me that I want to hurt Dudley and Piers the way Tom hurt his
attacker? I wouldn’t really enjoy that. Would I? Did I enjoy causing them pain
or was I just reacting to Tom’s memory? Am I so certain that I couldn’t
possibly want to do that on my own?
Considering the myriad of compulsion charms and hereditary suppressors that he
had been operating under, Harry felt a reasonable need to doubt and question
the validity of the person everyone assumed him to be. Had any of his previous
reactions been genuine or were they all programmed? Was Harry Potter as the
wizarding world knew him nothing more than a clever illusion created and
directed by a manipulative old puppet master?
Guess I’ll have to find out when I’m around everyone again. I don’t feel any
differently about my friends; at least I don’t think I do. I miss them all so
much. Harry sighed. This was all so confusing and he wasn’t very happy about
the dark path his thoughts were taking him down. This could be partially caused
by being a teenager…and the influence of Tom’s memories couldn’t be making it
any easier.
He sighed again and frowned even more deeply, green eyes as dark as his current
thoughts felt. Harry growled under his breath and looked around his small,
begrudgingly offered room, its Spartan space deepening his feelings of anger
and discontent. His expression abruptly relaxed from its fierce frown into a
look of contemplative curiosity. Who am I? Who is Harry Potter? That is
something I am going to have to find out very soon.
Grumbling to himself once more, he settled into finish his meal under the ever
watchful gaze of his house elf. Letting his questions settle to the back of his
mind where they could simmer for now, Harry smiled a little and relaxed
visibly. He had too much to do before he would be able to walk out of this
muggle hovel, so he would consider these concerns a little each day until he
had them whittled away to nothing.
 
July_19th,_Romanian_Longhorn_Dragon_Preserve
 
“How are you feeling, Severus?” Charlie felt a sense of Deja-vu as he conjured
a simple chair and sat down facing his friend, who had his head in his hands –
again. “Headache?”
“If only it were so simple as to be a headache,” Severus muttered wistfully.
“No, this is the worst case of heartache…I need you to promise me you’ll tell
no one of the letter I received. There are others beside myself who would be in
danger if you were to tell the wrong person…”
“Harry?” Charlie figured that was a safe first guess and from the look his
snarky companion was giving him, he had guessed correctly. “I’ll do one better,
okay? I, Charlie Weasley, swear on my magic to reveal nothing of the letter
that Severus Snape received from the Potters unless he personally tells me I
can speak of it.”
Stunned by the unexpected show of trust and loyalty, Severus nodded his
appreciation and took a deep breath before speaking again.
“From you, a promise would have sufficed, but thank you for that. It means more
than you could possibly know. Yes, Harry has a key part in all of this mess.”
“I expected as much since you got a letter from the Potters. Will you tell me
what this is really all about eventually?”
“Hopefully I will be able to tell you sooner than later. Be careful, Charlie.
Be very careful who you trust, no matter how much you have always been told to
trust them.”
“I…I’ll keep that in mind.” This intense, focused and driven Severus was not
the same man he was accustomed to seeing. The danger level was much higher with
his friend right now and Charlie was inclined to taking his warnings seriously.
“You have to leave tomorrow, don’t you?”
“I’ll be leaving by late morning, absolutely before noon tomorrow,” the potions
master confirmed with a sigh. “It might be a good idea for you to return to
your family, Charlie. I’m afraid that this war is going to get ugly very soon.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Severus. Be careful yourself.”
 
July_20th,_The_Longbottom_Estate
 
Augusta Longbottom stood at the back window of her parlour and observed the
graceful confidence that was her grandson Neville. Amazed, she watched him,
fascinated by the way he used his hands and magic to pot, re-pot and prune
numerous delicate or dangerous varietals while summoning what he needed over
his shoulder without so much as a glance. He knew where everything was and that
assurance made his work look artistic to the much older woman.
“What has happened to my meek little Neville? Where has he gone?” she wondered,
eyes tearing up briefly when, for the first time, she realized he was growing
up. “You’re more like you father every day…” She contemplated when the changes
had truly begun and realized that she might have to attribute the majority to
the Mind Healer the teens were seeing. If this is definite evidence of that
man’s skill in healing, then I’ll be making a substantial donation to his
department. Nodding her head sharply as if to confirm her convictions, she sank
into the chair at her side and continued to watch her grandson.
 
Humming to himself, Neville moved with the practiced ease of someone who knew
his craft intimately well. Handling his plants like the precious possessions
they were, he smiled and used his other precious possession to summon another
small bag of specialized plant food. This new wand made him feel strong, the
way everyone had been telling him the right wand should make him feel and he
was grateful for the experience.
Moving from plant to plant, he laughed quietly and remembered the way his
relatives had reacted to his new found – at the time – love of Herbology. Every
Holiday that required a gift saw him with some new, strange, interesting or
outright dangerous type of plant, resulting in the greenhouse he stood in now.
He might not have a large amount of each plant, but his available variety
nearly eclipsed Hogwarts’ greenhouses.
Deftly avoiding the bite of a Snapping Dragon when it darted in towards his
hand, Neville directed the watering can over to soak the plant’s dry soil.
Smiling as the cooling moisture relaxed the aggressive flower, Neville shook
his head. I’ll have to speak to Gran about this. The groundskeepers are
neglecting my greenhouse. That thought made him frown fiercely and, seeing that
he was done for the day, he strode out and closed the door securely behind him.
 
Arching one slender eyebrow at Neville’s serious, almost angry expression,
Augusta left her observatory post and called for tea and lunch to be brought
in. Settling comfortably in her favourite wingback, she picked up her book. The
absolute last thing she wanted was for Neville to feel nervous in his personal
sanctuary and he might if he became aware of her observation.
 
Striding into his Grandmother’s parlour with a great deal more confidence than
he had evidenced the previous summer, Neville sat down across from her and
sighed explosively.
“Whatever is the matter, Neville? You look fit to be tied,” Augusta observed.
“The grounds keepers have been neglecting my greenhouse. Do you know why? Most
of my plants are very delicate…”
Snorting quietly, Augusta shook her head at Neville and put her book down on
the end table.
“They go in and do the absolute minimum because your plants try to eat them,
darling. You are aware that there is a rather large Devil’s Snare growing all
over one wall, correct?”
“Of course I’m aware of it, Gran. I’ve been tracking its growth for nearly four
years now, and that isn’t the point. If they knew what they were doing…”
Startled by Neville’s almost sarcastic response and his staunch position
regarding the subject at hand, Augusta took a long look at the young man who
was seated across from her before replying.
“They aren’t trained to handle the kinds of plants you have in your green
house, Neville. They are merely grounds keepers who deal with the
beautification of this estate, not Magical Herbalists, so if you want to see
better care for your ‘delicate’ plants, you will have to provide it yourself.”
Neville sighed more quietly this time and shook his head. It wasn’t like he
didn’t have enough on his plate right now…The greenhouse is worth it. I’ll
handle it on the weekends, he mused.
“Alright, Gran, I guess you’re right. I’m probably expecting too much from
them. I’ll arrange to come home one day a weekend so I can tend to the
greenhouse myself.”
“Good. Now that we have that issue settled, what else have you been doing with
your time? You’re spending a lot of time at St. Mungo’s these days. Is it all
with your parents or are you still keeping faith in that Mind Healer you were
seeing?”
“Healer Monroe has managed to do more for me than any of the Healers I’ve been
to in the past. We’ve managed to break down over half of the old Obliviate
spell left over from when I was a toddler and my magic is improving daily for
the effort.” Neville smiled happily and transfigured his grandmother’s book
into a goblet and back again. “I couldn’t manage that transfiguration at the
end of the school year but I can do it now.”
“So, he really is helping you, then. I was afraid to hope in case it was
another futile attempt…” Augusta took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“You’ve grown up so much, Neville…you’re more and more like your father
everyday…he was useless at Herbology, but you’re showing his knack for Defence.
I don’t want you to end up like your father…”
Startled by his grandmother’s sudden melancholy descent into tears, Neville
moved on impulse and knelt in front of her, his arms pulling her into a
fiercely protective hug; murmuring to her, he sought to soothe her distress.
“I won’t end up like Mum and Dad. I may not have enough power to take Bellatrix
and Rodolphus Lestrange out, but together, my friends and I will make sure they
don’t have much chance to repeat the event with anyone else.”
Slowly composing her self, Augusta hugged Neville then sat back and smoothed
her clothes in what he had come to recognize as a nervous gesture.
“Why do you and your friends even have to face them? This is a war for adults,
Neville…not for children…”
“We aren’t children and we haven’t been for a while now. We are the ones who
will fight in this war. Do you see the adults doing much about You Know
Who…about V-Voldemort? They haven’t even faced Him as far as I know. Harry is
going to fight and I’ll fight beside him.”
“But why, Neville? You’re still so very young…Potter is a volatile and
unpredictable young man…why would you risk your life to follow him into this
war?”
“Because Harry has always believed in me; even when everyone else, including
you, thought I was little better than a Squib, he encouraged me and worked with
me until I could perform the Patronus charm and everything else I had to do to
pass my Defence tests. I may not always agree with his decisions, but my
support is the least I can give to repay his friendship and loyalty.”
Neville fixed his grandmother with a firm stare and smiled a little to ease the
seemingly harsh tone of his words.
“It was you who taught me the meaning of family honour, Gran. It was you who
taught me that those members of the Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom that
are able to fight have always sworn their wands to the leadership of the Lord
of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter. Harry will be that Lord, Gran. In a
lot of ways, he already is.”
Eyes bright with unshed tears and a pride so large it made her chest hurt,
Augusta Longbottom nodded her acceptance of Neville’s declaration. When the
time came, the Longbottoms would go to war with the Potters as they had done
since the time of Gryffindor himself.
“Semper Fidelis ab Verum,” Augusta whispered with heartfelt emotion.
 
July_20th,_Paris,_France
 
Wandering through the streets of Muggle Paris, Remus Lupin walked with his head
down and his shoulders hunched against a chill that only he could feel. Focused
inwardly, he sorted through his memories and emotions and more than once was
forced to wipe his face dry of tears as long buried grief rose up and
threatened to overwhelm him.
He had no difficulty recognizing the memories that were uncovered by Lily’s
blood-based Obliviate, but found him self becoming increasingly disturbed by
the number of memories that didn’t match up with how he was certain things had
actually happened. The realization that his mind had been tampered with after
the death of his friends succeeded in burning away some of his self-pity and
grief; the Wolf was angry, so he was angry and he knew who was to blame.
Focused by that certainty, he looked closer and did not like the remains of
what had caged his mind. He recognized one of the spells in particular and
turned back towards the magical district; cursing under his breath the whole
time, Remus hated knowing that he had to play nice and docile for the Order of
the Phoenix meeting or all would be lost. There would be no freeing his Cub
from his muggle relatives if Albus realized that Remus was no longer his tame
Wolf to call.
Sirius…James…Lily…I’ll take care of Harry with everything I have to give, he
vowed, gaze on the stars. Rest peaceful knowing he’ll be safe now…as safe as
he’ll let me keep him… Remus laughed roughly. He somehow doubted that Harry
would be eager to be protected, but it was his job, and he would see it through
to the best of his ability.
Steeling himself for the most difficult trial to come – leaving Dumbledore
alive for the time being – he headed back towards the French Ministry and the
distractions offered by the Beauvais twins’ tracking project. Once morning
came, he’d decide when to head back to Grimmauld Place.
Hopefully Severus received a letter as well. Between the two of us, I don’t
know if Albus will actually survive the meeting…The more I think about it, the
more I like the idea of biting him and leaving him to learn how to survive when
no one will acknowledge they owe him a favour because he’s a werewolf…
 
July_20th,_#12_Grimmauld_Place
 
Letting himself in at #12 Grimmauld Place like he owned the house, Albus took a
few moments to center him self before reaching out with his magic to find the
most densely warded parts of the home. He was counting on the home at least
having a minor ritual room that he could use to seclude Harry for his Maturity.
After reviewing several of his monitoring devices, he was now firmly convinced
that the boy had moved on to wandless casting. The bursts of magic his device
had recorded – though relatively low in overall power – were too regular in
strength and frequency of occurrence to be random.
He’s breaking free and I cannot afford to lose my advantage, he muttered to
himself and headed for the most intensely warded part of the house. Moving into
the basement, he swore he could smell the Dark Magic in the very air around
him; then he paused in front of a door sized slab of the purest black marble he
had ever seen. Casting a lumos, he looked closer and saw the silver inclusions
in the stone as well as the runes that were carved into the surface.
“Ritual room,” he mused and started reading the inscription to find out how
restrictive its access requirements were going to be. Prove your worth by blood
as Black as this stone. Only those of the line Toujours pur may pass into the
mysteries beyond.
Cursing to himself, Albus wrote off the ritual room. It did him no good to
isolate the boy if he himself could not get to him to renew the block on
Harry’s core and the myriad of spells he had him under. He would have
Nymphadora Tonks open the room at a later date just to find out what useful
items might be hidden inside assuming, of course, that she was purely enough a
Black to pull it off.
He moved on to the next most heavily warded room and discovered it to be the
Library. Snorting derisively, the old wizard shook his head. Well, I do suppose
that it would be adequate torture for the young man to lock him in the library
for his maturity. It would be far easier for me to keep him here, but no…it
will have to be Hogwarts when the time comes. Then I can rebind his core and
reinforce my directives without concern for interference.
Looking around the room, he nodded his satisfaction and decided that it would
be a good idea to fetch the boy away from his muggle relatives on the twenty-
fifth of the month in case his maturity decided to begin early. As it stood, he
assumed that Harry would be more than eager to get away from Privet Drive.
After my letter, oh yes, he’ll be so grateful to get away from the Dursleys.
I’ll have Alastor or Nymphadora fetch him for me on the twenty-fifth, then.
I’ll move him to Hogwarts the day preceding his birthday.
Pleased with his machinations, Albus Dumbledore smiled and apparated back to
his home to consider what move he would need to make next.
 
July_20th,_The_Burrow
 
“Did you guys notice anything unusual or out of place about the way healer
Monroe answered our questions about how the Death Eaters got into the
Department of Mysteries?” Hermione looked at Ron and Ginny, then on to Neville
and Luna. She noted the blonde’s secretive smile and wondered if it meant
anything. Forget about it, she told herself. Luna smiles like that all the
time.
“Uh, no, can’t say as I did. Sorry, ‘Mione.” Ron shrugged and smiled
apologetically. “What’s bugging you about it?”
“I was off in my own little world at the time…sorry, Hermione.” Neville looked
sheepish and looked down when she grinned at him.
“What did you notice?” Luna’s smile deepened. She was always so proud of
Hermione when she figured things out with minimal clues or assistance.
“It was the way he changed what he was saying in mid-sentence,” Hermione mused.
“We asked how the Death Eaters got into the Department of Mysteries and he got
this look in his eyes, like he was personally offended by their presence down
there…and he said ‘our…the ministry’s security’ when I’m sure he meant to say
‘our security must have been compromised from within’.”
“You think Healer Monroe is an Unspeakable?” Neville blinked and then sat back
with a curious look on his face while he thought it out.
“Why would he help us if he was an Unspeakable?” Ginny asked.
“Healer Monroe cares for his patients,” Luna mused airily. “He is a truly
gifted Mind Healer and he would do more to help us if he could, but this is not
his fight. Not right now.”
“But?” Hermione prompted. “I’m right, aren’t I? He is an Unspeakable. How long
have you known, Luna?”
“I didn’t know or even suspect until he first joined me in my mind,” Luna
replied. “Once our minds touched, I knew both his fear for our safety and his
own place as an Unspeakable.”
“So, does this change anything?” Neville looked around the group with a serious
look on his face. “I for one am going to go back as long as I’m making progress
with the removal of the Obliviate. I don’t think there is anyone else I would
trust to do what he’s doing in my mind.”
“It’s not like he could just come out and tell us he was an Unspeakable and it
makes sense considering where we ran into trouble.” Ron laughed a little. “I’m
going back. How about you ladies?”
Three heads, one blonde, one red and one brown all nodded in agreement.
“We’re finishing what we started.”
 
July_21st_,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Looking up inquisitively when a soft sound alerted him to the arrival of his
house elf, Harry smiled when he saw the heaped tray of steaming food Dobby had
bought for his dinner. Setting his book aside, he accepted the offering.
“This smells great, Dobby. Thanks. Can you stay and talk for a little while?”
“Of course, Master Harry, Dobby is happy to be staying. Yous needs to be eating
though. Dobby will clean while you do.”
Chuckling quietly and wondering how he would have survived this summer after
losing Sirius if it hadn’t been for Dobby and his friends, Harry dutifully
began to eat and watch his little friend scurry around tidying up the little
room.
“I’m sorry there isn’t much for you to do, Dobby. Once I have a home of my own,
it won’t be so bad.”
Dobby beamed happily and bounced over to sit on the floor near his favourite
wizard.
“Dobby finds much to do at Hogwarts for now, Master Harry.” The elf studied his
master more closely for several long moments, his large eyes widening further
over what he saw. “Yous is growing stronger. Dobby feels the way yous magic is
changing. Soon Master will have magical changes that everyone can see.”
“Is that normal?” Harry asked this cautiously, face full of worry that this
might be one more freakish thing about him.
Dobby nodded vigorously, eyes happy.
“Oh yes, Master Harry. All witches and wizards grows up magically,” he
reassured the young wizard. “Some are stronger than others, but all have it.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I’ll drag that book out that you found for me. I’d kind
of like to know what to expect.”
“Dobby is getting it for you while you finish yous dinner.”
“You’re the best Dobby.”
 
July_21st_,_#12_Grimmauld_Place
 
Restless and perfectly, miserably certain of the cause, Severus kept himself
firmly ensconced in his shadowed corner and observed the rest of the Order
members. No one would deliberately interact with him anyway, and he was
perfectly happy to keep it that way. Albus moved to stand and he barely
suppressed a bored sigh. The meeting hadn’t even begun and he couldn’t wait to
get out of the room and away from the manipulative old man that had ruined so
many lives.
Unnoticed thanks mostly to his quietly submissive façade, Remus echoed Severus’
observation of the gathered Witches and Wizards and automatically classified
them as threat or prey depending on how the Wolf responded to them. Focusing on
a fellow predator, he was surprised by the spy’s unusually agitated behaviour.
Why so nervous, Severus? I haven’t seen you like this in so many years…is this
about Harry, perhaps? The alpha werewolf willed the former Death Eater to look
at him, to meet his gaze.
Aware of an intensely focused stare, Severus looked around lazily and met
Remus’ bright amber gaze. The pure strength of will the other usually kept so
well hidden hit him like a freight train and his eyes widened briefly, a look
of uncertainty crossing his usually stoic features before they settled back
into his preferred mask. Folding his robes around himself, he shivered
imperceptibly and tried to hide himself further in his corner. He was painfully
nervous about how Harry would receive his news and apologies once he had the
chance to speak to him and wanted only to be able to focus on something,
anything else until this damn meeting was over. Jerking his gaze from the
werewolf’s, he cursed under his breath.
Startled by the mixture of fear, self loathing and sick nervousness that filled
the Slytherin’s obsidian eyes, Remus blinked and sat back to consider a way to
ease the coming confrontation. Harry was likely to be angry and resentful when
faced with the snarky Potions Master and he wasn’t sure if there was any way to
make this transition easier for Severus and his Cub.
 
Looking at his gathered flock with a benevolent smile, Albus rapped on the
table with his knuckles.
“Let’s get started, everyone. Severus, do you have any news for us? Voldemort
has been especially quiet since the events at the Ministry.”
Taking a moment to regain his composure, robes held protectively close to cover
for his nervous lack of attention, Severus groaned to himself. Shifting
reluctantly out of his shadowed corner so the other Order members could see his
face, he sneered at those who flinched when Albus had said ‘Voldemort’.
“I was called once a few weeks ago. The Dark Lord ordered me to brew several
restorative potions for him and I have been gathering the necessary
ingredients, many of which are rare and quite illegal.” He smirked maliciously.
“I will have to deliver the potions to him soon, so the next two weeks are
going to be busy ones in my potions lab.”
“Two weeks?” Mad-Eye asked his tone openly sceptical. “What the bloody hell are
you brewing?”
“Recreo Primaevus and Expurgo Corporeus.” Severus smiled nastily. “You do know
what those are, don’t you, Moody.”
“Merlin’s Balls, Albus…” Moody sputtered.
“Yes, these potions should work to restore a proper human face and body to
Voldemort, but the Expurgo may well undo many of the dark ritual effects, thus
weakening him. Alert us when you have delivered the potions, Severus. Then we
can plan an attack.” Albus smiled beatifically.
“It is also my belief that Voldemort was injured by his failed attempt to
possess Harry. Our young Mr. Potter is always full of surprises,” he stated
pompously. “Remus, what can you tell us of your fellow werewolves?”
“There is little to tell, Albus,” Remus commented quietly. “The newest laws
that have been passed by the Wizengamot are certainly not geared to promote
good will between any of the magical creatures and Wizarding kind. The general
consensus is to avoid the conflict entirely, but some will side with Voldemort
simply for the perceived chance at revenge.”
Moody watched Remus intently, natural eye widening a little when he saw just
how dangerously angry the werewolf was about the topic at hand. It didn’t
surprise him all that much that no one else seemed to notice – no one ever
noticed Remus, himself included up to that moment.
“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Albus looked around the room with his
twinkling blue eyes and smiled encouragingly. The rest of the meeting offered
up little in the way of useful information and Albus called an end to it less
than an hour after it had begun.
“Very well, everyone. As we have nothing further to discuss, we shall adjourn.
Thank you all for your time and your strength in these dark times.”
 
Approaching Severus just outside the doorway of the kitchen once Remus had
wandered out, most likely on his way to his bedroom, Albus smiled encouragingly
at the younger wizard and cast a security charm around them.
“That didn’t look like a pleasant exchange you had with Remus prior to the
start of the meeting, Severus, my boy. I hope there isn’t any more of a problem
between yourself and Remus than there usually is. You do have to work together,
you know.” Albus’ curiosity and self-preservative instincts had kicked in
strongly when he saw the two enemies staring each other down during the moments
just prior to the start of the meeting.
“I know, and I do try to be civil, Albus.” Severus grumbled unhappily and let
his own unsettled emotions guide him. “Nothing either of us can think to say
will ever make up for what almost happened between us and you know it.” He
sighed tiredly. “I think the damnable wolf was simply warning me off of his
‘Cub’, or some other animal idiocy.” Severus sneered with his usual malicious
venom.
“It’s just more of his typical werewolf ‘growl and posture’ routine and I’ve
become quite accustomed to ignoring it. Why you insist on keeping him around, I
will never understand…”
“One does what one must to achieve a goal, my boy,” Albus admitted, gaze
shuttered and nearly devoid of its usual merry twinkle. “We are at war and
these children seem bent upon fighting it behind our backs. The very least I
can do is make sure they are capable of fighting at his side…”
“His?”
“Come now, Severus, don’t play games with me. Harry is the rallying point for
the young people in this war and he is training them himself. They did very
well in their little club last year, don’t you think.” Albus smiled, his
twinkle returning with a fierceness that the Potions Master had rarely ever
seen.
“You’ve seen the fierce fighter he can be when he puts his mind to it, my boy.”
“How can you think that brat..?” Outwardly, Severus looked scandalized and as
put out as he usually might, but inside he felt ill. He had trusted this man
for most of his life and now, oh how the mighty have fallen.
“If Potter is your idea of a war leader, then we might as well all lie down and
die! That incompetent little brat couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag
unless someone gave him detailed instructions!”
“Severus,” the elderly wizard chided, tone edged with ice. “You know better
than that.”
The potions master sighed in exasperation and shook his head, obsidian eyes
full of fire.
“The boy has proven little to me. I have seen no definitive proof. You,
however, have faith in his strengths, and it appears that will have to be
enough for now.”
Seemingly satisfied with the hateful man’s response, Albus nodded and patted
Severus on the shoulder with a grandfatherly smile and a nearly blinding
twinkle.
“Remind yourself to keep thinking that way, my boy, and everything will turn
out just fine.” He cancelled the security charm and nodded to Severus before
heading out the door.
 
Mad-Eye shook his head once Albus and the others were gone; limping to the
foyer, he called out the werewolf’s name to stop him before he could finish his
retreat upstairs to his room.
“Lupin. A word please.”
Turning reluctantly from his perusal of a certain Slytherin and thoughts of how
to get him upstairs so they could speak freely, Remus shot one last look at a
certain lurking Slytherin then headed back down the stairs so he could speak
with the retired auror. He felt the privacy spell go up and growled his
irritation. For one, he wished that Albus and Moody weren’t so damned paranoid.
It would have been much easier if he and Severus could have each eavesdropped
on the others conversations tonight.
“What can I do for you, Moody?”
“You can go check on Potter for me,” Mad-Eye stated gruffly. “He’s certainly
proved to me that he knows the meaning of ‘Constant Vigilance’.”
“What happened, Moody?” Remus asked his voice full of a deadly intent. He
advanced on the retired Auror and held back the urge to growl audibly. “What
did you do to my Cub?”
“I just meant to test him every so often, to stun him at the worst,” Mad-Eye
explained his expression reminiscent of someone who had just eaten a
particularly sour lemon.
“Potter knew I was there, Lupin. I was under an invisibility cloak and he still
nearly impaled me with one of his bloody muggle garden tools! He threw it at me
hard enough to stick it in the fence like a bloody throwing knife!”
Snickering behind his hand, Remus’ shoulders shook with the first real laughter
he’d expressed since Sirius’ death.
“So, you mean to tell me that my fifteen year old Cub got one over on you, the
great ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody? You must be joking…”
“That boy has reflexes like yours must’ve been at that age, Lupin. He’s quick
as a bloody viper once he decides to strike and just as dangerous. Go talk to
him. He’ll listen to you.” Moody shrugged to loosen his shoulders. Lupin wasn’t
acting like the usual lap dog that he appeared to be and he had just been
forced to upgraded him from ‘only dangerous a few days a month’ to ‘dangerous
all the time, with some days being worse than others’.
“Those muggles are terrified of him and it isn’t on account of us warning them
off. He’s doing wandless magic every day. I’ve seen him.”
“Really now. A little wandless magic isn’t something to be surprised about. He
did perform a Corporeal Patronus at thirteen,” Remus pointed out. “You
think…what exactly are you implying, Moody?”
“I’m just saying the boy has abnormally high reflexes…inhumanly high, and I
know what good seeker reflexes look like so spare me that drivel. He could hurt
someone if he wasn’t so damn careful.” The retired Auror met the werewolf’s
amber gaze and fought down the urge to react defensively towards the predator
he saw looking out at him. “He pushes himself every day, Lupin…every day that I
have been there early, he’s worked himself for no less than five hours a day on
wandless magic. Eats like a bloody horse, too.”
Now Moody had Remus’ complete attention; between mention of the prolonged use
of wandless magic and the heavily increased appetite, he was certain that Harry
was already in the early stages of his Maturity.
“How much is he eating, anyway? Are you telling me the Dursleys are feeding
him?”
“He’s always eating something. It’s a constant thing – when he isn’t casting,
he’s eating, and yes, they are definitely feeding him. He’s gained muscle and
some body weight in the last few weeks alone.”
Remus doubted that the muscle and growth had anything to do with food, but he
would humour the old Auror for now. He nodded, his expression thoughtful even
as he jumped for joy inside. The first signs of awakening were often physical,
so this was a very good bit of news, even if it did mean that Harry’s body had
been gearing up for his maturity a full month or more prior to the actual
event.
“I’ll go talk to him, Moody, but I’m not sure what good it will do…”
Taking into account all of his observations of the last hour and a half, Moody
came to an unlikely – in his mind – conclusion and decided to throw out the
bait and see which one of the two men took it. He hadn’t, however, expected to
get two sharks with one hook. Dropping the privacy charm, he glanced over at
Severus, then back to Remus.
“You’re a good man, Lupin. So, when will you two be taking Potter from the
muggle house?” Moody arched an eyebrow and resisted the very real urge to back
away when Remus drew himself up to his full height and let the final remnants
of that deceptive façade vanish completely. In place of the worn and broken
down werewolf stood a powerful and vital young man, the grey in his hair
serving only to add interest instead of age.
Severus forced himself to relax as Remus turned all dominant werewolf on Moody.
This was a side of Remus he hadn’t seen in close to fifteen years and it served
as a further reminder of everything he had pledged to Harry all those years
ago. He growled under his breath and shook his head at the retired Auror before
commenting.
“Don’t worry about it, Moody. Potter will be safe and so will those…muggles he
lives with.”
“I don’t go back on shift for two days,” Moody commented, his nonchalant tone
obviously forced as he looked from Severus to Remus and back. Both men were
formidable duellers and the werewolf was especially dangerous when he allowed
the gloves to come off and the retired Auror had no desire to test the odds of
his winning a fight against their combined ability. “Make sure you can fool
Albus’ tracking devices until then.” With that last comment, he was gone.
“What exactly did he want?” Severus asked once they were alone in the foyer. “I
was only able to catch your side since you were facing me and I could lip read
what you were saying.”
“He’s very concerned about Harry,” Remus replied. “Apparently he tried to sneak
up on the Cub and nearly got himself impaled by a thrown garden tool…while he
was invisible.” He chuckled wickedly. “Moody compared Harry’s reflexes to mine
and a striking viper.”
“Sweet Merlin,” Severus breathed. He felt the renewed intensity of Remus’ gaze
again and looked up at him with a curious expression.
“I presume you were staring at me for a particular reason, Mooney?”
“I see you received a special delivery as well.” Remus grinned at the
momentarily confused Head of Slytherin. “You wouldn’t have called me Mooney
otherwise.”
“Indeed,” Severus drawled and shook his head, a sneer curling his lip
reflexively. “We have to get Harry out of that muggle…hell.”
“His birthday is only a little over a week away, so I agree that we don’t have
long.” Remus shifted nervously, as if responding to some deeper worry. “If…even
if that ritual only did exactly what Lily intended, his magical coming of age
could be…bloody hell, I don’t know…”
“I don’t know how much damage it would do to a muggle home, either,” Severus
muttered darkly. “I’m not weak by any stretch, but neither am I in the truly
exceptional range and my maturity tore my room and part of the hall in a warded
home to hell and back.” He sighed.
“Given how badly treated Harry has been treated by his so called relatives, he
may not feel a desire to even attempt to shield them from harm. We’ll have to
discuss it further once we have a chance to get to him. This close, we should
already be able to get some sense of what to expect.” Sneering at Molly Weasley
when she eyed the pair of them inquisitively, he returned his attention to
Remus.
“My Manor is securely warded and has an even more heavily warded ritual room
that should suit our purposes well.”
Remus sighed heavily, the slump of his shoulders and sudden aging of his
appearance far more telling of his mood than any words could ever be.
“We need to go talk to Harry.” He straightened, looking noticeably younger and
stronger as his gaze filled with an unstoppable resolve. “What did Albus want
when he pulled you aside a little bit ago?”
“He was inquiring as to the nature of our disagreement. Apparently he noticed
our little staring match before the meeting.” Severus replied and recalled the
conversation in detail even as his skin grew chilled. “Harry is going to hate
me, Remus…I just know it. I’ve been awful to him…”
 
July_21st_,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
Apparating in several blocks from their destination, both men transfigured
their clothing into muggle attire. Remus glanced over at his companion and
blinked in open surprise.
“You know muggle clothing that well?”
“I am quite fond of denim and T-shirts, Mooney. Don’t look so surprised,”
Severus taunted playfully in an attempt to distract himself from the coming
confrontation. “Now, which of these dreadful houses is the correct one?”
Sighing, Remus led the way, mind still marvelling over the idea and image of
Severus Snape in black jeans and a black T-shirt.
“You just seem too…conservative for muggle clothing.”
“Conservative?” Severus snorted gracelessly. “Don’t judge the book by the
cover, Wolf.”
“Of course,” Remus mused, amber eyes full of amusement. “And you wear black
leather under your teaching robes, right?”
“Silk, actually. It’s not as warm as leather.” Severus smirked when Remus
nearly tripped. “Problem, Mooney?”
“No, no problem at all,” the werewolf replied. “Who ever you finally settle
down with is going to have a hell of a time once they catch you.”
“What are you going on about?”
“Well, you will settle down, eventually, right?”
“I can’t say as I’ve thought about it. I’m not likely to survive the war. Why
would I think about it?” Severus stopped and glared at Remus. He wasn’t sure if
this was a normal curiosity for his companion of old or not, but the topic of
discussion was making him quite nervous and he didn’t need anything else making
him feel jumpier than he already did. “What brought on this strange
conversation?”
“I don’t know. It just…came up, I guess. Sorry.” Remus shrugged and continued
on toward #4 Privet Drive. “It’s just…Well, you smell lonely almost all of the
time, so I figured you must think about the future an awful lot.”
Walking once more, Severus caught up to the werewolf easily and avoided
answering by throwing it back at him.
“Do you think about it?”
“Every time I’m around Tonks I can’t help but think about it,” Remus said with
a self depreciating smile. “I always seem to want what I can’t have, though, so
I try not to.”
Severus let the conversation lapse into silence because he didn’t know what to
say to that declaration and he certainly wasn’t about to admit just how heavily
his own loneliness weighed on him.
 
Hearing a solid knock on the front door, Harry discreetly checked to see who it
was. He grinned when he saw Remus turn to look and wave at him. Bounding
downstairs, he actually beat his Uncle Vernon to the door and had it open
before the much larger man could get there to stop him.
“Remus!” Suddenly he paused, eyes narrowing suspiciously when he caught sight
of the other man who stood with him. “Tell me something only you and I would
know, Remus. Then you can tell me why the bloody hell you brought Snape.”
“I taught you the Patronus charm your third year,” Remus mused, then brightened
in an attempt to ignore Harry’s hostile tone and scent. “Pronglet or Prongs,
Jr…those were Sirius’ nicknames for you.”
Nodding his satisfaction with Remus’ immediate answer, Harry smiled a greeting
to the werewolf and then focused on Severus with his previous intensity.
“Now…”
“Boy! What is the meaning of this?!” Vernon blustered, only to freeze when the
teen in question turned to glare over his shoulder, green eyes filled with a
very visible threat. “Just be quick about it!” he declared and beat a hasty
retreat.
“James Potter saved my life when Sirius Black tried to set Remus on me in his
werewolf form,” Severus replied quietly. “You looked at one of my childhood
memories in my Pensive when I left our last session because Albus called me
away.”
“C’mon in,” Harry stated abruptly and led the way up to his room, his hardened
green gaze drawn back to Severus repeatedly once they were safely in his room.
“It’s not that I mind company, but what’s up, Remus? Why the hell did you bring
him here with you?” Ignoring the potions master’s flinch for now, he focused on
finding out what was going on and he was just about to the point where he would
be willing to beat it out of the two men if he had to.
“I brought Severus with me because we both have a lot we need to talk to you
about,” Remus began and ignored the teen’s narrowed eyes when he used the spy’s
given name with such easy familiarity. “Many things are not what they appear.
You know that from your own experiences, Cub…”
“I know from my own experiences that he,” Harry snarled and glared at the
Slytherin in question. “Is a nasty, cruel bastard who doesn’t deserve the
privilege of teaching anyone, let alone impressionable young children. My worst
memories of Hogwarts come almost exclusively from my contact with this one man
and those damn excuses for mind rape that Dumbledore called Occulemency
lessons.”
Severus flinched visibly, as if the words had landed a physical blow, and the
pain they caused was increased for them having been true. Fighting for
composure even though his first instinct was to just go ahead and break down,
he turned his head away from Harry and tried to get his breathing back under
control.
Seeing the way his companion was hunched in on himself, something he had never
before witnessed from his companion, Remus jumped in before Harry could rip
into Severus and pursue his attack with renewed venom.
“He was under compulsions, Harry!” Remus snapped out, amber eyes full of his
own pain. “He wasn’t himself then…no more so than I have been my complete self
for the last 14 years…now sit down and listen for a few minutes, dammit!”
“Why should I believe that Dumbledore’s man would need to be under compulsions
to break me into little pieces that would be easier for the old man to use?
That’s all they did to me the entire time I was at Hogwarts! They did their
damndest to break me and they fucking failed! Maybe now I’ll finally get to
return the favour.”
“I deserve that,” Severus whispered in a voice roughened by emotion. “I deserve
that and more for hurting you when I swore to protect you...” Hugging himself
protectively, he shook his head. “Albus turned my love for a child into the
worst kind of jealous hate I have ever experienced…no matter how much I tried
to help, it always came out wrong…”
Words would never have impacted on Harry, not when it came to Severus Snape.
The man was a Slytherin through and through and that meant that he could say
whatever needed to be said and he would never give his enemy a shred of
information that could be used against him. What stopped Harry in his tracks
was the sight of tears tracking down the older man’s face. Gobsmacked, he sat
down on his bed and just stared for the longest time as Severus seemed to curl
into himself and let the tears fall unheeded from his openly broken eyes.
Mouth working soundlessly, Harry’s anger rapidly drained away to a more
rational level. Thought returned and he blinked out of his almost trance like
observation of the other man.
“Tell me what happened and I’ll decide what to believe when you’re done,” he
whispered, gaze focused entirely on Severus for now.
“About a week ago we both received letters from Lily,” Severus began
tentatively. “Personally, I’ve been assimilating the memories her reversal
charm released and getting my temper back under control…”
“I spent several days torn between raging about Albus and grieving for my
dearest friends all over again,” Remus interjected when Severus seemed unable
to continue. “A little over a month before your first birthday, Albus brought
your mother a book on blood rituals and showed her the one he thought she
should use to protect you. Lily went over the ritual on her own, and through
her own knowledge and a lot of research, decided that it was not what it
appeared to be. That ritual would have used the three of you as sacrifices
designed to kill Voldemort when he attacked you.”
Remus drew in a deep breath to compose him self, then forged on ahead. There
was no simple way to explain everything, not with someone as angry and
resentful as Harry seemed to be. “The night of your first birthday, your mother
enlisted my self, Sirius, and Severus to help her and James with a blood ritual
to help protect you from Voldemort’s impending attack. Once we had completed
the ritual, Lily performed a blood based memory charm that I’m sure few would
know how to reverse. She used it to hide what we had done from Albus and
Voldemort so that none of us could be forced to give up the information.”
“I don’t know what other charms had been cast on my self or Remus, but up until
the time when her letter caused the removal of her work and everything that had
been layered on top of it, I truly believed I hated you and the Marauders,”
Severus murmured. “With the charms gone, I find myself uncertain of how to
approach you…All I can do is start with an apology because I am more sorry for
how I treated you than I will ever be able to express or atone for… I would
never have hurt you of my own free will…” He trailed off, clearly still in a
state of emotional turmoil despite his Slytherin mask.
“Severus carried you around the house like you were his baby,” Remus whispered
loud enough for both to hear. “Lily had to come get you from him half the time.
Hell, she had to put her foot down and keep you to herself when Severus and
Sirius were in the house at the same time. They nearly came to blows a few
times over who would get to hold you and when…they even started a few duels
over it as I recall…” He grinned at the blushing spy. “We didn’t all get along
spiffing all the time, Harry…but we did respect each other, Severus and the
Marauders, that is. Sometimes the five of us were quite cruel. Sometimes we
were just having fun…”
“Sirius’ so called prank involving Mooney was the bone of contention that
nearly split the Marauders up and nearly made me hate them for true.” Severus
sighed. “We came here, Harry, because this house may not stand up to your
maturity. It’s going to be strong. I can feel that now, from just sitting here
in the room with you and its still ten days away.”
Meeting the younger man’s Avada Kedavra green gaze cautiously, as if their
focus might kill him just as easily as the spell could, he relaxed a little and
continued. “I have a Manor with strong wards and an even more strongly warded
ritual room.” He sat forward. “Let us take you to Snape Manor. You can study
all you want there and neither Albus nor the Dark Lord will be able to find
you. It’s under Fidelius and I am my own secret keeper. Please allow me the
chance to make up for our past and to show you how important you are to me.”
“So, you and Remus will be there with me, right?”
“Someone has to teach you how to duel and bring your potions skills up to
measure,” Severus grumbled. “Of course we’ll be there with you, brat.”
“Ah, there’s the Professor Snape I’m used to. You were starting to worry me for
a minute or three.” Harry smiled a little despite the anger flashing in the
depths of his eyes like a fire that had not been banked very well. “That
manipulative old bastard has taken more of my life from me than he can ever
give back,” he growled.
“I have a lot to think about before I can even begin to stop being insanely
angry about a lot of the things that have been done to me and the people I care
about, but I am willing to give you the chance to prove your claims…both of
you. As for potions, well, I may very well surprise you when it comes to that.
It helps to have the Ingredient Interactions table memorized.”
“You didn’t?” Severus frowned. “Why ever not?”
“Muggle raised,” Harry stated in reply. “And by these muggles no less.
Remember?
“Oh…yes, well, we’ll see if memorizing the chart has helped your skills any. It
seems that your upbringing was a fact that I kept forgetting…” Severus agreed
grudgingly then shook his head. “We need a window of time where Albus won’t be
alerted that you’re missing.”
“So my magical signature needs to still be here even though I won’t be anywhere
in the area?”
“Yes, exactly. What are you thinking, Cub?” Remus arched an eyebrow at the look
in the teen’s eyes. “Moody doesn’t come back for two more days and he told us
that Albus definitely does have magical devices that would alert him if you
were gone.”
Harry grinned at the nickname and then chuckled when Dobby chose that moment to
appear.
Dobby popped in abruptly and squeaked when he saw Remus and Severus. Handing
Harry a book he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Malfoy library, he shifted nervously.
“Would yous be wanting dessert and tea for three, Harry Potter, sir?”
“That sounds perfect, Dobby. Oh, thanks for the book. Is this the one Neville
said I could borrow?”
“Oh, no, Harry Potter, sir. My old Master’s library is full of such books. This
one is being much better than the one Dobby was finding before. Dobby
borrowed.” The elf vanished after finishing his explanation.
“He stole a book from Lucius Malfoy for me…” Laughter bubbled up and Harry let
it out briefly, then remembered he wasn’t alone and sobered abruptly. “Um,
sorry…”
“You bonded…oh, Merlin help us…”Severus shook his head, eyes widening when he
caught sight of the book’s title. “Magical Inheritance by Bloodline? What are
you expecting to have happen to you?”
“Dobby and Luna both insist I’m about to go through a magical awakening or
maturity or something. I started reading the one he got for me before, but
apparently he decided it wasn’t good enough, thus his little bit of larceny.”
Harry grinned crookedly. “I don’t personally know what to expect, but as crazy
as I’ve been feeling and what with the way I’ve been eating…”
“Yous favorite tarts,” Dobby stated and set a plate full of tarts in front of
Harry before depositing a smaller helping in front of the two adults that was
clearly meant to be shared between them. “Is there being anything else Dobby
can do for you, Harry Potter, sir?”
“Yes, there is. I have a question, Dobby.”
“Yes, Harry Potter, sir?”
“You did magic and made it register as if it was my own a few years ago,
right?”
“Only to protect the great Harry Potter…” Dobby looked suitably remorseful on
the outside, but his eyes held no regret.
“What if I needed you to pretend to be me, or my magical signature, at
least…could you do that?”
“For a short while, yes…how long is yous needing me to do it?” Dobby bounced as
the idea of an adventure excited him.
“It will only be for a day or two. I’ll need you to get the things I’ve left
behind once Moody goes to tell someone that I am missing. Then come to me at
Snape Manor.”
“Dobby is happy to be doing this for the Great Harry Potter, sir.”
“Thank you, Dobby.” Harry grinned.
“Yes, thank you very much,” Remus added.
“Mr. Mooney is welcome.” Dobby then turned a stern gaze on Harry, startling the
pair of older wizards. “Yous needs to be eating as much as yous can. Yous
magical growing up needs all the energy it can get now.”
“I will eat all I can, Dobby. These look great.”
Dobby smiled and nodded.
“Yous eat and Dobby will be coming back later.” He vanished once again.
“That was truly strange,” Severus whispered. “I had no idea a house elf could
be that…assertive…”
“Dobby helps me a lot, and from what he told me, the wizard makes the house elf
into what ever it is they need them to be.” Harry shrugged nonchalantly and
started in on his plate of tarts. “I needed a Slytherin house elf and I got
one.”
"If what you say is true,” Severus drawled. “Then I now know why he acts like
such a bloody Gryffindor most of the time...are you quite certain he’s
Slytherin?"
 
July_22nd,_Snape_Manor
 
“Remus?” Harry looked over at Severus as well.
“Yes, Cub?”
“How exactly were you planning on keeping everyone from thinking that Tom has
kidnapped me or killed me once they realize I’ve vanished? I haven’t told
anyone except the crew that I’ve changed locations, so…”
“How and when did you tell this ‘crew’ that you had moved?” Severus glared at
Harry with a stony expression on his face.
“Dumbledore told me I couldn’t use Owl post this summer because of the
‘security risks’, so the Ministry crew and I have been writing all month and
Dobby carries the letters. I wrote a quick note and sent one of your house
elves last night since Dobby is a little busy right now.” Harry grinned as both
men processed the fact that he had conveniently found a way around Albus and
even them, apparently.
“You’ve been using a house elf as a mail carrier all summer?” Remus started
laughing and couldn’t seem to stop. “Oh, that’s brilliant!”
“Yes, well, just be careful what you tell your friends, Harry. They aren’t
trained in Occulemency yet, “Severus grumbled with a small grin. “That was a
very Slytherin thing to do, by the way. Bravo.”
“They will be trained in Occulemency soon enough,” Harry stated confidently. “I
sent Hermione my book on the subject and she’ll have the others learning it,
too. I seem to recall that the Mind Healer tasked Neville and Ron with learning
it as part of their therapy, as well, so you might be surprised.”
“The Mind Healer told them to learn Occulemency?” Severus asked in a
disbelieving tone. “Who the bloody hell is their Mind Healer?”
“I believe Hermione told me his full name and title is Master Mind Healer
Octavius Monroe. Does that name mean anything to either of you?”
“The name doesn’t, but if he’s good enough to be a Master, then he’s good…How
much has he gone into with the rest of the group?” Remus sat forward eagerly.
“Everything including the Chamber of Secrets, as far as I know,” Harry replied.
“So, it shouldn’t be that hard to get everyone set up with basic shielding. How
are we explaining my disappearing act?”
“Remus made a parchment like that damn map of his. What were you having it tell
people, Mooney?”
“Albus is under the impression that you and I will be travelling extensively,
so I have some arrangements to make to carry out the ruse for now. We will have
a trip to take towards the end of August, if you’re willing, Cub. How does
Ireland sound?”
“I’ve never been anywhere but London and the area around Hogwarts, so Ireland
sounds great. Why are we going to Ireland?”
“The Werewolf Council and some of the Tribes want to meet with you and find out
what your views are on the war, werewolf rights and the rights of other magical
creatures,” Remus explained.
“Ah. Okay…then I will need information on new and existing law so I know where
I stand on them…I don’t mind meeting with them, but, uh…when is the most
important question. I’d rather not be around a bunch of grumpy werewolves too
close to the full moon. I know how you get, Mooney.” Harry grinned weakly.
“It will be the week before the full moon, but you won’t be alone, Cub, and you
won’t be there with the Tribes the night of the moon.”
“That I can live with,” Harry agreed. “So, you’re going to Gringotts, right?
Between Ragnok and Griphook, they should be able to handle anything you want
done. I owe Griphook a letter anyway.”
“Ragnok himself would be willing to help you?” Remus sounded stunned and looked
like he might fall down if he weren’t already seated.
“More than likely, yes. I suppose I could go with you, but I’d rather not be
seen coming or going from the bank and give away the fact that I have been
actively talking to someone at Gringotts. Dumbledore seems determined to keep
me in the dark and I’m determined that he keep thinking I still am. I’ll write
a letter of introduction for you so that Griphook will talk to you. He’s the
Potter Estate Manager.” Harry smiled and giggled for a moment before assuming a
look of gleeful mischief.
“I don’t much care what gets sent to whom, but I do have one request.” Harry’s
smile turned into a malicious grin. “I want an adult sized Tinker Bell costume
complete with ‘magic wand’ sent to Dumbledore from Disney…I only saw bits of
Peter Pan on the telly, and I think it would be a fitting gag gift…”
“What is a Tinker Bell?” Severus inquired, dark eyes full of amusement and
curiosity.
“A cute little female fairy that wears this short little yellow shimmering
costume and has a wand with a star on top of it. The costume will probably be
all glittery and gauzy and so very…girlie.” Harry started to laugh at the idea
of Albus Dumbledore dressed as Tinker Bell and was soon on the floor, curled
into a ball howling with laughter.
“Hmm, well…I’ll get that letter from him once he calms down and then head
straight to Gringotts. I want to have this handled before Moody goes on shift
again so I can vanish effectively.”
 
July_22nd_,_The_Burrow
 
“Why are you so fascinated by these Muggle gadgets, Dad? I just don’t
understand them,” Ron murmured from his seat on a stool near his father’s
workbench.
Chuckling, Arthur shrugged and smiled at his youngest son.
“I want to understand what makes them work,” he explained. “For me, they’re a
bit like the kinds of magic that don’t make sense no matter how hard I study.
It’s a complicated puzzle that I enjoy exploring.”
Nodding his understanding, Ron returned the smile with a grin of his own.
“I understand what you mean when you put it that way. Chess is that way for
me…it’s this huge puzzle just begging to be solved.” Sobering, he sighed and
turned his gaze to his father’s. “I know why you asked me to come out here with
you today. I’m glad you made me go to Healer Monroe. I know I fought it like
crazy at first, but he’s been really helpful. I feel a lot better about things
that used to bother me.”
“I had hoped you’d come around about it,” Arthur murmured with a light blush.
“And I was hoping we could talk about it some. Thank you for convincing your
sister and Hermione to go with you. They were both more affected by what
happened than I think they were able to admit.”
“We all were,” Ron admitted freely.
“The three of you seem to be a lot happier, healthier, even.”
“I think we are, Dad. We’re all helping each other.”
“Good. Now, how about you bring your mind for puzzles over here and see if you
can help me figure out this ‘Switch’ thingy that Mr. Granger gave me when they
dropped Hermione off.”
Laughing under his breath, Ron joined his father at the workbench and settled
in to study the infinitely complex seeming artefact of Muggle technology.
 
July_23rd,_Snape_Manor
 
Remus leaned against the door frame of Harry’s room and watched him read
studiously for several long minutes, the sheer normalcy of the moment soothing
his Wolf and reassuring him that things with the war and their unusual little
family just might turn out okay after all. Then he noticed the ornate oldness
of the tome his Cub was reading and wondered what Harry had gotten him self
into this time.
“Harry? What in the world are you reading?”
“Hey Remus!” Dropping the book beside him, Harry jumped up and hugged the older
wizard. “How are you doing?”
“I’m hanging in there, Cub,” Remus replied and returned the surprisingly strong
hug. “You’ve gotten stronger. I guess Dobby really did take good care of you.”
“He stuffed me with three solid meals a day plus snacks. I’m actually not skin
and bones for once. See?” Harry lifted his shirt to show off a wiry, muscular
torso with no ribs to be counted. “No ribs.”
Poking Harry in said ribs playfully, Remus grinned his relief over his cubs
improved health.
“That’s wonderful, Harry. Now, tell me about these books you supposedly have.”
“No supposedly about it,” Harry stated. “I just don’t have them out readily
available.” He shrugged.
“Dobby went shopping for me. I asked for whatever a young Noble would have
learned before attending Hogwarts plus anything he could find on Parseltongue,
Occulemency and a few other subjects.”
“Dobby was a Malfoy house elf before he became yours,” Severus drawled. “Did
you not take that into consideration?”
“I really didn’t think about it that way, Severus. I knew he was bound to a
wealthy household and he would be aware of what I needed to know. Once I saw
all the Dark Arts books, I asked him about it.”
“Dark Arts, Harry? You know it’s illegal to have…” Remus protested.
Harry just looked at the werewolf and shook his head.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Mooney…Yes, I know very well how many years in
Azkaban my collection is worth. I have a book or two on Wizarding law, as well.
Dobby knows I will have to face Dark wizards in the coming months and he had a
valid concern. How can I defend myself against what I don’t know? The Malfoys
are but a taste of what I will have to deal with and I have to be able to duel
on their level at least defensively.”
“Let me see your collection so I can determine what books are too dark for you
to study,” Severus stated. “Some things simply won’t be safe…”
“No. You will not go through my collection and arbitrarily decide what I do and
do not need to know,” Harry countered. “Dumbledore did that to me my whole life
and I will not allow it to happen again. I will allow you to view my collection
and, if you treat me like an adult instead of a child, I will take your
comments under advisement, but that is all.”
Startled by Harry’s stiff resistance to his demand, Severus stared at the
younger wizard like he’d finally done something interesting.
“You’re telling me no?”
“That’s correct, Severus. I will gladly accept your comments and your
assistance, but I will not exchange one overly controlling individual for
another.”
“How about a compromise,” Remus suggested calmly when it became evident that
Harry was not going to budge. “Promise me you will be careful and that you will
not study any of the Dark Arts books without myself or Severus present in case
something goes wrong with a practice session.”
“Practice session?” Harry asked innocently, but his crooked grin gave him away.
“We know you’re not just going to study theory, Cub. What have you already
gotten into?”
“Parseltongue magic, which you two couldn’t fix, anyway.”
“Where did you find Parsel magic?” Severus asked quietly.
“Dobby hoodwinked Mr. Borgin into thinking he was still Lucius’ elf and got him
to hand over a crate of things that he had requested. It had around twenty
books in it, five of Salazar Slytherin’s personal journals, a set of knives
that I think may have been Salazar’s, the Slytherin locket from Grimmauld place
and a glass vial full of I don’t know what that was also from Grimmauld. I’m
going to be having a talk with Mundungus Fletcher about that some time…him and
Kingsley. My list of people to have private discussions with seems to be
growing.” Harry sighed. “Anyway, I’m learning the parsel magic out of one of
Salazar’s journals.”
“What else have you learned from these journals?” Severus inquired.
“The one on potions is where I finally got what I’d been missing in potions
class. I didn’t know about the interactions table and he explained why it was
so important and had his own in the journal. His is the one I memorized. The
man must have been incredible to talk to!”
“Harry, Salazar was dark…” Remus protested.
“So is Severus. What’s your point? Dark doesn’t mean evil and Salazar wasn’t
evil. Quite dark, yes, but not a Dark Lord by any stretch of the imagination.
Half of what we’re taught in history might not even be true! I have some books
on Goblin culture and everything that Griphook sent me. The Goblins are a
fascinating people, fascinating and very proud. Professor Binns only ever
covers the Goblin wars and I’m beginning to wonder how much of what he teaches
is accurate.”
“A Goblin gave you books on their culture and everything, as you so eloquently
put it, and you have no idea how rare or important that honour is?” Severus
just shook his head in quiet amazement.
“How was I supposed to know it was a big deal?” Harry asked pointedly. “I was
raised by muggles and no one really ever bothers to tell me anything. I have to
find it out by myself. Of course I didn’t know. I probably should have ‘known’
that going to the Goblins for help was a ‘bad idea’, but you know what, I think
that move saved my hide.”
Remus gaped at Harry as his Cub wound down from his tirade. The pure,
frustrated anger that fuelled the rant let him know this really had been a long
term, ongoing problem.
“Okay, point taken. Now, how about Severus and I agree to stop assuming you are
aware of information and to do our best to include you in decision making.”
“I agree to stop assuming you were taught things and to try to include you in
decisions,” Severus stated. He studied Harry intently, obsidian eyes full of
fierce curiosity. “Who are you and what happened to the Harry Potter I taught
at Hogwarts?”
“I’m not really sure that person ever existed, to be honest with you,” Harry
stated sadly. “I was under behavioural compulsions, memory charms, heritage
suppressions and a whole slew of other spells. I have most of them cleared out
now and my core is opened up most of the way. I wouldn’t have known about any
of it if Tom hadn’t damaged the spells when he possessed me at the Ministry,
then pointed it out to me in a dream a few weeks ago.”
“You’ve done all of that on your own?” Severus leaned forward. “May I see?”
Harry eyed the dark eyed wizard warily. His experiences with him and
Legilimency had not been pleasant and he wasn’t entirely certain he trusted him
on this particular issue despite some of their resolved hostilities.
“I will show you the room and nothing else.”
“Fair enough. I just want to see how far along you are on cleaning everything
out. I may be able to help with some things.”
“Okay…but don’t go trying to open any of the trunks or doors. They have
parseltongue Trips on them.”
“Trips?”
“Yeah, trips. It’s a really versatile hallucinatory spell I found in one of
Salazar’s journals. I’d rather not use you as my first test subject, if you
don’t mind.”
“Thank you for the warning.” Severus met the younger man’s gaze. “Ready?”
“Of course.”
“Legilimens!” Severus expected to get the usual response of seeing whatever he
wanted despite what Harry had said. Now he knew the boy had been practicing
heavily. He ‘tapped’ on the shields that stood before him and they parted
smoothly; He blanched at the slithering things that occupied the space between
the inner and outer walls as he was drawn through by a force that held him
firmly in place. Then he was inside a large chamber with Harry.
“This is quite impressive, Harry. You did this just in the last few weeks?”
“In the last month or so, yes,” Harry agreed. “As you can see, I have most
everything cleared out and organized. Welcome to my Chamber of Secrets.”
“Is this how it looks down there?”
“A little bit, yes. How did you like my shields?” Harry had felt the older
man’s surprise and discomfort when faced with his defences, so he was curious
how he would respond. What he wasn’t saying told him he had managed to impress
the wily spy despite the man’s reticence to say so.
“I am curious where you derived your concept and will need to test you out
periodically in different situations to make sure they will hold up, but you
are doing well.” Shaking his head a little, Severus looked around until his
gaze fell on a trunk that was distinctively different from all the rest.
“What’s in that one? All of the others look about like I expect your school
trunk would.”
“That is where I keep all of the memories I don’t want to deal with right now,”
Harry stated, only to groan when Severus focused on him with a keen intensity.
“They’re not my memories, Severus. They’re Tom’s from his first fifty years or
so. That’s why they’re in their own trunk.”
Backing down once Harry had answered his question, Severus still couldn’t seem
to mask his concern.
“Why don’t you just get rid of them, Harry? I can show you how to do it. Having
those lying around is incredibly dangerous for you.”
“No, I’m not going to get rid of them.”
“Why not? Are you going to say no to everything I suggest in trying to help
you?”
“I’m sorry if it seems that way right now, but there is too much for me to
learn from those memories and honestly, I prefer having them with me.” Harry
shrugged when Severus fumed some more. “How am I supposed to be his equal if I
only know fifth year spells? Those memories even us out in the department of
knowledge, which leaves me lacking only in experience. I can gain experience a
lot faster than I can gain knowledge.”
“I suppose, but I would feel better if you simply purged the memories.”
“And I have noted your concern. Thank you. Was there anything else you wanted
to check?” When the potions master shook his head, Harry placed Severus back
outside his shields and blinked at the startled man. “What?”
“Where did you learn to do that?” Slightly disoriented from the sudden shift of
perspective, Severus let himself drop down to sit on the couch.
“Um, what?”
“Where did you learn to bring someone into your mind and push them back out
again like you just did?”
“I pulled you in because I didn’t want you snooping around, and once you were
done looking around, I just wanted you back on the outside. Why? Isn’t that how
it’s supposed to be done?”
Remus laughed quietly at the look on the Potions Master’s face.
“I think that, however unorthodox your methods, you did it right in the long
run.”
 
July_23rd,_The_Burrow
 
“Hermione? Can I ask you something and get an honest answer? No holding back?”
Ginny chewed on her lower lip and watched the older girl with eyes full of
uncertainty and nervous energy.
Concerned as much by the younger girl’s uncertainty as the tone of her
question, Hermione nodded and sat down on her bed so she could hold onto her
friend’s cold and trembling hands.
“You know I will always answer you as honestly as I am able. What’s bothering
you, Gin?”
“Am I going crazy, Hermione? Do you think I’m going to turn out like Bellatrix
Lestrange someday?”
Stunned and thrown off balance by the unexpected questions, Hermione’s first
instinct was to vehemently deny the possibility, but she managed to bite back
the words. Forcing her self to honestly consider what she truly thought of
Ginny’s recent behaviour, she blinked back tears.
“Oh, Gin…as long as you’re worried about whether or not you’re going crazy,
you’re not quite there yet,” the bushy haired witch whispered and let the tears
fall because Ginny had asked her for honesty and she wasn’t about to deny her
what she needed to know. “I have been worried about you lately. We all have
been. Tom hurt you so deeply and none of the rest of us has ever been used or
hurt any where close to the same way.”
“So, I’m not crazy yet?” Ginny laughed a little and sniffled at the same time.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m certain you’re not crazy yet,” Hermione stated emphatically. “We may all
be nutters by the time this war is over though, and that’s no joke.” She sighed
and rubbed Ginny’s hands to warm them up a little. “As for your turning out
like Bellatrix? Well, you’re not evil, Gin. Yes, darkness touched you and left
its mark, but I’ll never believe you to be evil like that woman without
evidence I can’t repudiate no matter how hard I try.”
“Thank you, Hermione…I just…what Ron said made me see how I was thinking about
a lot of things,” Ginny explained. “And this isn’t something new, either…it’s
just clearer now…”
“What have you been thinking about?” Hermione gently encouraged the younger
girl to continue speaking. The look in her eyes said she needed to get this
information off her chest before she did lose it.
“If I tell you, then you will think I’m crazy or something…”
“No, I won’t, Ginny. Just tell me. You clearly need to tell someone or you
wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ginny squeezed Hermione’s hands, then pulled
away; this discussion needed distance, not comfort.
“I’d do anything for Harry. You know that, don’t you?” she whispered, her
bright brown gaze locked on Hermione’s darker brown. “He saved my father’s life
and that is a debt I can never repay, but even more difficult still is that he
saved my life, my magic and my very soul…how can you repay that debt to someone
when you cannot even properly articulate its worth?” She spoke the next part
very clearly so the other girl could make no mistake in her meaning. “I will
defend his life, name and reputation to the death. My wand is his to call
whether he knows it or not.”
The words themselves made perfect sense to Hermione; she could even comprehend
a little bit of why the girl would feel the way she did. She, after all, owed
her own set of debts to a certain black haired, green eyed wizard. What
disturbed her was the near fanatic gleam in the depths of Ginny’s eyes – that
look only faintly echoed the mad loyalty of Bellatrix Lestrange, but it was
enough to make the bushy haired witch swallow carefully. Now she understood why
Ron had felt compelled to speak to her as he had and why Ginny so fervently
feared madness. The seeds had already been planted and the soil was fertile.
“You’re not crazy, Ginny.” She declared just as strongly as before. “But you
have to think before you act, alright? You can’t just go around hexing everyone
who talks bad about Harry. You’d be hexing half of the wizarding world!”
Ginny giggled, then laughed outright and that fanatical gleam faded away. She
grinned at Hermione and shifted over to hug her firmly.
“That wouldn’t be good at all, would it, now…”
 
Molly Weasley knew her youngest children were having difficulties, but for once
she had no idea how to approach the subject. Ron’s scarred arms and haunted
eyes rendered her speechless as quickly as Ginny’s own newly pain filled gaze
or Hermione’s quiet sadness. She didn’t know all of the details about what had
happened to her babies, including Hermione and Harry, but she did have one
solace. She had seen them helping each other and ever since they all started
going to the mind healer, they seemed better than they had before.
What concerned her most was that Ginny seemed to be okay before she went to the
Healer…it was only after the first visit that she became so haunted. The healer
was supposed to help her get better, not make her worse than she was before.
The ‘children’ in question came trooping downstairs before she had to call them
and she smiled. They all looked better today, but Ginny especially seemed
brighter, less weighed down.
“How are all of you feeling? You’ve had a hard time of it lately.”
Sitting down at the table between his Dad and Hermione, Ron grinned even as his
stomach growled demandingly.
“I’m doing a lot better, Mum. Healer Monroe has been a great help, but the
biggest help has been everyone else. I wouldn’t have gone if you and Dad hadn’t
pushed the issue.” Ron blushed scarlet when Molly hugged him fiercely and
kissed his forehead. “AH! Mum! Gerroff!”
Laughing, Hermione shook her fork at Ron and sobered into her best Professor
McGonagall impersonation.
“You have worried your mother sick, Ronald Weasley! Don’t you dare give her any
trouble, young man.”
“You sound pretty well back to normal yourself, there, Hermione,” Arthur said
and nearly choked on his tea when he tried to drink and laugh at the same time.
Coughing a bit, he finally cleared his throat and shook his head. “You have
been keeping in touch with your parents, haven’t you? This isn’t something to
keep from them…”
“I am feeling very much back to normal,” Hermione agreed. “And Ron is right.
Healer Monroe encourages us at every visit to seek the help that only our
friends and family can give. If Psychiatrists, muggle Mind healers, were able
to help people the way it’s done in the wizarding world, a lot of bad things
wouldn’t happen as often.”
“I didn’t know what the muggles called their mind healers,” Molly mused. “But
I’m glad they have them. I can’t imagine what it would be like we didn’t have
Mind Healers…that doesn’t bear much thought.”
“I completely agree,” Hermione commented. “As for post, I’ve sent my parents a
few letters through the muggle post so they wouldn’t have to explain the owls.”
“Ah. I sometimes forget your parents are muggles, Hermione. They are very good
people.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Weasley.” Hermione beamed at the older man.
“And how about you, Ginny? You look happier today,” Molly observed and held her
breath expectantly.
Thinking back to her earlier conversation with Hermione, the youngest Weasley
smiled genuinely.
“I am feeling a lot better, Mum. It may take a while, but I’m getting there.
Time heals a lot of things when you give it the chance to do its work.”
“You’re sure, dear? You seemed so much more distraught after you started going
to the Healer…” Molly trailed off, her uncertainty visible to all.
“There were things I needed to deal with and couldn’t because they were hidden
away. Now that I can see the problems, I am dealing with them. Don’t worry,
Mum. I really do feel better than I have in a long time. Once I’ve finished
working things out, I’ll sit down with you and explain everything, okay?” Ginny
smiled winningly and her mother relaxed.
“I’ll hold you to it, Ginevra Weasley.” Molly’s tone left no room for argument.
 
July_23rd,_#4_Privet_Drive
 
As paranoid as ever, Alastor Moody arrived at the Dursley home and discovered
that Mundungus Fletcher had left early yet again. Cursing the con artist for
being the worthless bum he was, he scanned the yard – front and back – and then
focused on the house.
 
Sensing the arrival of another wizard, Dobby cautiously peeked out and vanished
when he saw Moody. Waiting far enough away to go unnoticed, the elf waited for
the retired Auror to leave so he could retrieve his Master’s belongings and
finally return to his side.
 
Seeing that Harry’s school trunk and owl cage were still present and noting the
absence of the Dursleys, Harry and the car, Moody decided to wait for the
muggles to return before reporting to Albus. As it stood, something felt off,
but he couldn’t quite seem to place what it was.
The Dursley’s returned a few hours later and a quick glance showed that there
was no sign of Harry. Moody apparated to the park just in case the boy had gone
there, but a quick search showed no sign of him.
“Neat trick, but how did you do it?” he wondered and vanished with a soft
‘crack’. Reappearing near Grimmauld Place, he stormed into the house and headed
for the fireplace. “Incendio!”
 
Assured that Moody was gone, Dobby popped into Harry’s old room and gathered up
everything of his Master’s. He dropped what looked to be a blank piece of
parchment on the bed just before he vanished, leaving no trace of the young
wizard who had once occupied the small room.
 
Throwing a handful of floo powder into the fire, Moody stuck his head in the
fire and called out his destination.
“Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts!”
A shrill alarm greeted him and he hit his head on the upper edge of the
fireplace in his haste to get away from the almost painful screeching. Rubbing
the back of his head ruefully, he growled.
“Obviously not there.” Adding more floo powder, he called out another
destination. “Dumbledore Manor! Albus! You had better be here, you barmy old
coot! Albus Dumbledore!”
Resisting the urge to laugh only because Alastor sounded so upset, Albus
stepped into view.
“Whatever is the problem, Alastor?”
“Potter’s missing! He and his relatives were gone when I arrived, but the
muggles came home without Potter. The boy’s things were still there, so I don’t
know where he’s gotten off to and there’s some infernal alarm screeching like a
banshee in your office.”
“Return to the Dursley home. I will check my office and join you there
shortly.” Albus immediately apparated to his office and silenced the offending
alarm. A quick scan of the device showed that Harry had been gone for a little
over four hours.
“Damn the boy! Why does he insist on making things more complicated than they
need to be?”
 
Alastor froze when he returned to #4 Privet Drive and did a quick scan of the
house. Harry’s belongings were now gone. No trace of the boy remained.
“What the bloody hell?! They had to have been watching to know I was gone, but
if they were close enough to know I was gone then I would have seen them…” At a
loss on explaining how Severus and Remus had managed to pull off this prank,
the retired Auror just shook his head and settled into wait on Albus.
 
“He left a little over four hours ago, Alastor. How long ago did you arrive?”
“A little over four hours ago, but he was gone when I arrived, as was Fletcher,
the lazy bum. I hope whatever scheme he was counting on paid off real well this
time because it had damn well better have been worth it!”
Alastor growled under his breath and slowly calmed himself. “Now Potter’s
things are gone and I don’t understand it, Albus! That trunk and Owl cage were
here when I left to find you…”
Albus nodded, twinkle diminished considerably by his old friend’s news.
“Let us go speak with the Muggles, then.” Striding up to the door, the tall,
white haired wizard opened the door with a wave of his hand.
“Vernon and Petunia Dursley! Where is Harry Potter?”
“In his bloody room where he always is, you old freak!” Vernon cowered back
from the combined anger of two wizards and shook his head. “He hasn’t left his
room!”
“He’s not in his room, Dursley. Where is he?” Moody demanded. “Did you let
someone come in and take him?”
“No one’s been here but us,” Petunia declared tremulously. “No one but us. The
boy has barely been coming out to eat other than when he did the yard work. How
were we to know he was gone? Good riddance, I say!”
“Why didn’t you do as I instructed in the letter I sent you?” Albus seethed
inside and that seething became a full boil when both muggles gave him back
blank, uncomprehending stares.
“What letter?” Vernon asked. “We didn’t get any letters from you people this
summer.”
“No letters at all,” Petunia agreed defiantly.
Curious about the cold fury he could see in his old friend’s eyes, Moody fell
back into observation mode and decided to simply follow the older wizard’s lead
for now.
“We should probably check the boy’s room, Albus.”
Nodding tersely, Albus spun on his heel and led the way upstairs. The door
swung open easily and they were greeted by the sight of nothing but a
spotlessly clean room.
“There’s a piece of parchment on the bed,” Moody commented. “Looks magical to
me.”
Checking the paper for curses and the portkey spell and finding none, Albus
picked up the paper, which immediately began to fill with writing as if someone
were using an invisible quill. Albus sighed his exasperation when he recognized
the irreverent style.
 
Messrs. Mooney and Prongs Jr. present their compliments to Messrs. Mad-Eye and
Dumbledore and respectfully request that they keep their overly long beaks out
of other people’s business.
Mr. Prongs Jr. has stated a desire to take a vacation and to make the most of
this unprecedented opportunity to see the world. Mr. Mooney is in complete
agreement and thinks a long trip is a brilliant idea.
Mr. Mooney promises to have Mr. Prongs Jr. back – with his school supplies – in
time to ride the Hogwart’s Express on September 1st. Until then, Messrs. Mooney
and Prongs Jr. will be enjoying themselves and promise to send postcards.
P.S. Mr. Prongs Jr. would appreciate it if Mr. Dumbledore would forward his
O.W.L. scores and other correspondence to him through Ms. Hedwig. Ms. Hedwig is
the only owl likely to be able to reach Mr. Prongs Jr. before September 1st.
 
Fuming, Albus folded the offending parchment and stuffed it in his pocket.
“There is no need to remain here, Alastor. Remus has taken Harry. Start the
search for Harry and Remus immediately.” Albus frowned. “Find Fletcher, too,
just in case his negligence has allowed this disaster to occur.”
“Of course, Albus.” Moody apparated away.
Standing alone in the smallest bedroom at #4 Privet Drive, Albus Dumbledore
looked around and saw the possibility of all of his carefully laid plans
falling apart around him.
 
July_24th_,_Snape_Manor
 
“Something’s eating at you, Harry. What is it?” Severus was only too aware of
the teen’s increasingly moodier turn as they approached his birthday and hoped
this issue – whatever it happened to be – wouldn’t test his tenuous emotional
control too harshly.
“I didn’t really understand what hate was before all of this crap with
Dumbledore and my family and everything came out.” That quiet statement
forcefully drew both men’s undivided attention to Harry. “I would say ‘I hate
that…’ with no concept of what HATE was.” Harry sighed almost silently. “Now, I
am truly starting to understand.”
“What brought you to this conclusion?” came the cautious inquiry from Severus.
This was going to be a disturbing discussion and he wasn’t sure he was up to
it, but at least he wasn’t alone in dealing with it. Remus was there, too, and
he looked about as happy as Severus felt.
“Something happened when Tom possessed me. His presence in my mind hurt so
badly…but then it faded all of a sudden and the bond between us lit up like an
over-powered Lumos spell. He acted really nervous then, and I shoved him out,
not that he fought me on it. A little while after everything at the Ministry,
once I was home from school, Tom came to me in a dream and showed me what
happened at the Ministry like I was in a Pensive…a lot of things started to
make more sense and we finally met up in the Chamber in my mind again, like we
did when he possessed me.” Harry paused to gather his thoughts.
“He showed me all of he spells that had been cast on me and told me to break
free of them…I’ve been working on that all month.”
“Can you see the bond now?” Remus asked gently.
“If I focus and go to my core, where we were when he possessed me and where I
go when I dream, it shows up as a door…a door that opens both ways.”
“What about all of this brought you to the realization of hate?”
“Dumbledore. He put compulsions on my friends so they couldn’t talk about all
the dangerous things we got into at school. He put loyalty and trust
compulsions on Hermione. He caged my magic so tightly and severely that I’m
surprised I could breathe, let alone cast any spells. He lied to me about who
my relatives were and kept me from being with people who would have loved me.
He allowed me to be abused and starved for almost 15 years. And it was all for
the greater good.” Harry put the last two words in air quotes and snorted
derisively.
“Whose greater good did he do these things for? Yours? His? Mine? Tom’s? The
rest of the Wizarding World that’s too cowed to stick their necks out and fight
for what they believe in? Did anyone benefit from those manipulations except
Albus fucking Dumbledore?”
 
July_24th,_St._Mungo’s,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
Relaxing back in his chair once he had his office all to himself again, Healer
Monroe raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his head in a pose of
complete relaxation while a pleased yet wistful smile curved his lips.
“They won’t need me for much longer,” he mused quietly. “Ginny might need to
come back every so often, but the others…they’ll be fine on their own unless
something else happens to bring them back to me.”
He chewed on his lower lip and sighed, mind drifting to Neville. As far as he
could tell, there wouldn’t be anything else he could do to that old Obliviate
without potentially doing more harm than good. Immensely pleased with the
progress that Neville had already made since they had begun, he shook his head.
The teen was more confident, more focused and his magic was noticeably stronger
since they had begun to work on the spell removal. His memory retention and
recall had improved exponentially, and that seemed to be the greatest source of
pride for the young man short of his magical improvements.
“That was definitely a good bit of work,” he commented to himself with a
pleased grin, which deepened when his thoughts turned to Luna. Now there is one
unique young lady. So much of what bothered the rest of the group just rolled
off of her back, like she knows more than the rest of us, or perhaps like she
is far older than her years. I will definitely remember her for years to come.
His original patient out of the five came to mind and his smile held. Ron had
finally made a breakthrough and was no longer fighting the healing process. He
would need a few more sessions at most, and then he should be fine to stop
unless he felt a need to come in.
And then there was Hermione. Miss Granger is a very challenging young woman, he
mused. Her intelligence and her will power make her a difficult subject to work
on. I’m surprised that the compulsions held as long as they did on her. More
likely than not, the suggestions worked because she already trusted authority
figures, and will do so until their actions become illogical in her
perceptions. Hopefully this incident has not damaged her ability to trust.
His smile finally faded as his thoughts returned to Ginny. He had wondered
about the intensely organized nature of her mind and her strong grasp of
Occulemency, especially when she claimed to have never studied the subject, but
more information on her experiences with Tom Riddle’s diary had explained that.
The only logical conclusion he could come up with was that, in the process of
the possession, Riddle had forced her thought processes to echo his own style,
including the use of Occulemency to hide his presence. Sadly, this had now
become her ‘natural’ way of processing thoughts and information, and she had no
desire to change it.
She has a frightening potential for violence and a wavering grasp of reality
that seems to be stabilized by the support of Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. The
whole group seems to be aware of her fragile state and they are doing
everything they can for her.
“Hopefully I’ll be able to get her stabilized before school starts up again. I
need to speak to Mr. Potter soon. He seems to play a key role in stabilizing
her more radical tendencies…”
 
July_24th_,_Unplottable_Location
 
Crimson eyes followed the spells being sent back and forth as Bellatrix ran two
groups through the basic scenario that they should encounter when they attacked
Azkaban. Half of each group was pretending to be Aurors while the other half
played their true roles and fought to incapacitate as many as possible without
unnecessary kills.
Voldemort smirked. There was no mercy in his intentions for the raid that would
occur on the next night. No, on the contrary, his intentions were quite cruel
and he revelled in thoughts of how the Ministry and the Wizarding populace
would react to his surgical strike.
Throwing in some stinging hexes of his own while Bella worked to drive the
Death Eaters through this critical training in group tactics, he nodded
appreciatively. None of his followers had been inept duellers, but this wasn’t
duelling – this was full out war – and the tactics required were very
different.
 
Fighting their way across what appeared to be a sparsely wooded area that
offered little in the way of cover, the advancing Death Eaters signalled to
each other silently and continued their forward assault as the sounds of
resistance faded. Stinging hexes struck powerfully from the side and behind and
gonged off of the shields being maintained by several apparently passive
members of the unit. Splitting their shields to offer more support to the
quadrants that were under attack, they reacted instinctively to the newest
threat and continued on to the end of the scenario without loses for the first
time after a week of intensive training.
The sound of quiet clapping drew everyone up short. Turning to face the
unexpected sound, the Death Eaters went to one knee before their Lord when he
stepped out of his shadowed corner. Bellatrix knelt nearest him and barely
suppressed the urge to tremble. If he wasn’t pleased with her efforts and the
progress of his followers, then…she chose not to think of what her fate might
be.
“You have improved greatly my Death Eaters,” Voldemort uttered in praise. “Work
hard this night, for the next time you fight together will be very real.” He
smiled this time. “Continue and do not be surprised if I throw a hex or two
myself.”
 
“Attackers, you will now be the defending Aurors! The rest of you get out here.
We have a lot left to work on and I for one do not plan to fail,” Bellatrix
snarled as the he lower ranked Death Eaters scrambled into their new positions.
Sparing a glance at her clearly amused Lord, Bellatrix suppressed a shiver. No,
she definitely could not afford to fail him again.
 
 
Bored with watching the training that had been going on for many an hour,
Voldemort retreated to his study and got comfortable behind his desk. Carefully
opening the link between himself and Harry, he slipped into the younger
wizard’s mind and froze involuntarily. There, sitting on the floor next to a
fully opened pool of shimmering power was the Boy Who Bloody Wouldn’t Die, and
he was currently looking at Tom with an expression of open amusement.
“Hello, Harry. Working on your Occulemency, I see.” Knowing that it was inane
to state the obvious didn’t make it any easier to cover his surprise at getting
caught walking in the door, as it were.
Drawn by the unplanned motion, Harry’s eyes focused on the door between his
mind and Tom’s as it slowly opened. He fought to not laugh as The Dark Lord
carefully slipped inside and froze with the most comical look of surprise on
his face when he realized his attempt at being sneaky had backfired.
“Yes, I was working on my Occulemency,” he replied with a snigger. “Was there a
particular reason why you were sneaking in?”
“Ah, well…I was bored,” Voldemort admitted with a slight wince. “There isn’t
anyone to talk to that won’t tell me exactly what they think I want to hear.”
“I suppose I can understand that,” Harry mused pensively, thoughts briefly
returning to the tirade of a few hours prior that had led him back to
practicing his Occulemency so he could calm down enough to be civil. Wondering
at the decided lack of hate he was feeling towards the murderer of his parents,
he studied him quizzically. He killed my parents purely for being in his way,
for defying his will. His followers and their spawn have made my life as
miserable as possible and Tom has tried to kill me on several occasions, but I
still don’t hate him. I don’t like him and I definitely don’t trust him, but…
Harry sighed audibly.
“Sit down, Tom. What did you want to talk about this time? My training?”
Amused by the resignation in the teen’s voice, Voldemort sat on the floor
across from his rival and shrugged.
“I can tell you’ve been studying, a fact that pleases me greatly. From the
looks of things, you’ve really got a gift for curse breaking, as well,”
Voldemort mused.
“Curse breaking? All I did was unravel the spells that didn’t belong…that or I
just hammered through them.” The green eyed wizard unconsciously echoed
Voldemort’s shrug. “That’s what you intended when you showed them to me in the
first place, right?”
“I intended for you to, perhaps, weaken the spells a bit so it would be easier
for your magical maturity to scour them all away,” Voldemort clarified. “It was
something I mistakenly thought would be an exercise in futility for you…in any
case, what you did is what curse breakers do, Harry. They unravel or destroy
wards and spells, and you, my Little Serpent, appear to be quite gifted at the
skill.”
Contemplating the relaxed teenager sitting only a few feet away from him,
Voldemort unconsciously twinned his companion’s earlier thoughts as he
privately wondered at the boy’s lack of fear and other negative emotions in
relation to his presence. He should be able to taste a low undercurrent of
nervousness or fear at the very least and none of it was there.
“I don’t see fear in your eyes anymore, Little One…no hate and no fear. Why is
that? You are meant to fear me for what I am and to hate me for what I have
done to you.”
“I was actually wondering about that myself, and I can’t say that I like you
and I know better than to trust you,” Harry stated bluntly. “Yes, you killed my
parents, but Peter and a few others have earned my revenge for their betrayals.
You’ve made my life a living hell, but you aren’t the only influence to ensure
that my life would turn out the way it has. So far, I haven’t caught you in a
lie and that is far more than I can say for Dumbledore and many others. That
alone offers you at least a small measure of respect in my book.” Harry smiled
crookedly. “No, I don’t really hate you and I don’t fear you. I understand you
far too well for that, Tom.”
“Do you hate Dumbledore?” Voldemort asked the question and resisted the urge to
flinch away from the fifteen year old wizard as eyes the colour of the death
curse flared maliciously and the pool between them roiled with sudden violence.
No, his hate is definitely not for me…I wonder if ‘good’ old Albus has even an
inkling…
“I don’t know for sure, not yet,” the boy mused as if unaware of his own
reactions to the subject. “I’m still finding out about everything he’s done.
I’m sure you’ll know when I figure it out.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, my Little Serpent.” Contemplating the youth
seated across from him, Voldemort decided to see how far down the path he could
lead the powerful novice without resorting to the lies and subterfuge that
Dumbledore seemed to prefer. “If I send you some of the books that I collected
before I formally began my first reign, will you at least look through them?”
Eyes wide, all previous thoughts of Dumbledore swept away by his surprise,
Harry tilted his head to one side and made a questioning noise. He finally
found his voice.
“You really were serious about my being fully prepared to face you…”
Looking quite offended, Voldemort sat up straighter.
“Of course I was serious, you little brat! Why else would I say it?”
“Oh, I don’t know…to distract me from something that you didn’t want me to
notice at the time, or maybe to confuse me,” Harry theorized. “I couldn’t
assume that you meant anything else by it.”
Grumbling under his breath, Voldemort had to accept the boy’s logic. Though he
was serious about Harry meeting him on equal footing, he had intended to
confuse and distract him at the time.
“Fair enough, but my offer is genuine. You have always been a challenging
opponent, but when next we battle, I intend for it to be a true challenge for
both of us.”
“A true challenge,” the younger wizard breathed his green eyes full of
excitement and anticipation over those three words. “Alright. I’ll look through
the books you send me once my House Elf checks them for curses. Would you
prefer to send one of your elves or that I send mine to pick the books up from
you?”
“Send your elf. I have no desire to lose any of mine to your strange ideas
about House elf freedom,” Voldemort stated. “I’ll have a few books ready to get
you started in a day or two. I have to find them all.”
“Fine. I’ll send my elf to you on Friday, if that’s alright.”
Voldemort nodded and rose to move towards the door. Upon reaching it, he paused
and turned back to meet Harry’s gaze.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“For how long?” Harry met Voldemort’s gaze unflinchingly. At this point, any
reprieve would be acceptable so long as he understood the terms.
“Until Dumbledore is no longer a thorn in our collective side. At that point we
will have to re-evaluate our…relationship. Do you agree?”
“What about your Death Eaters?”
“Why, my Little Serpent, who else are you supposed to practice on? I promise to
not send them after you deliberately, however. Do you agree?
“I agree. Do you?”
“I agree.” Magic flared between the two powerful wizards and Voldemort was gone
by the time it had faded, the door firmly closed behind him.
“A truce of sorts until Dumbledore is no longer a problem…” Harry couldn’t
resist a full out burst of laughter as the potential implications of their pact
sank in.
 
Back in his own body, feet still propped up on his desk, Voldemort smiled to
him self.
“That’s one less thing to worry about right now. Tomorrow, I take Azkaban.”
 
Translations:
Semper Fidelis ab Verum - Always steadfast and true (The Longbottom family
credo)
***** Let the bodies hit the floor *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run. May
contain het and/or slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Pairing: None currently.
 
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J. K. Rowling’s characters. Pity, that…
 
// Parseltongue //
 
Thoughts & Mindspeech
 
Letters, etc.
 
AN: Sorry for the wait, but this chapter just kept growing and growing and
growing. (Grin) Chapter 09 is on the way, but please be patient. Thanks for
reading and reviewing! I appreciate all of the feedback I receive. Enjoy the
chapter!
 
Trivia Note: Prisoner of Azkaban has two different spellings of Remus’
nickname. Most of the time it is spelled ‘Moony’, but there are two instances
on the Marauder’s Map itself where it is spelled ‘Moony’, thus my usage last
chapter. LOL. I just had to find one of the two places where it was spelled
differently by J.K.R. herself.
 
Warning!!!: This chapter contains scenes that may be offensive to some readers,
in other words, there’s a Dark Revel (rape/non-con, torture, and blood). The
scene will be marked at its beginning and ending for those who wish to skip it.
 
All translations are available at the end of the chapter.
 
“…Skin against skin blood and bone
You're all by yourself but you're not alone
You wanted in now you're here
Driven by hate consumed by fear
Let the bodies hit the floor…”
- Drowning Pool “Bodies”
 
July_25th_,_Azkaban_Prison
 
Concealed by the inky darkness of storm shrouded skies, six groups of ten Death
Eaters moved forward on silenced feet down the rocky, sparsely wooded slope
that led up to Azkaban’s only means of access – the docks. Communicating with
silent gestures, they split, three groups moving forward with almost brazen
openness while the other three cast the disillusionment charm on themselves and
vanished into the woods like living shadows.
 
Standing alone further up the slope, the Dark Lord Voldemort was a shape made
of a deeper darkness that seemed to shine starkly in the gloom. His crimson
gaze brightened with satisfaction as the first of his Death Eaters clashed with
the Aurors who were stationed to guard the quay. He could almost taste the
confusion and fear laced relief of the defenders when the spells they faced
remained ever so purposefully below the level of the Unforgivables.
“No beautiful green death to spur your adrenaline tonight, my dear Aurors,” he
whispered into the quickening wind. “No help and no mercy for any of you on
this night,” he mused and held back his laughter for now. When the time was
right, he would show himself and destroy what remaining hope they had left.
 
Using Reductos and Stupefies to herd the Aurors into a tighter and tighter
formation, Bellatrix led the assault with joy in her heart and a crazed laugh
bubbling up from between her lips. Gesturing to signal that it was time to
tighten the noose she surveyed the result and nodded her satisfaction before
raising a tightly closed fist into the air. Spells lit up the night with
magical fire that served as fuel for the discordant symphony of shields gonging
an almost musical warning tone before they shattered like glass under the
hammer that was the Death Eater’s assault.
Stalking into view when the Auror’s defences began to buckle under the pressure
of insurmountable odds, Voldemort let his own high pitched laughter loose and
aimed his wand at the soon to be vanquished wizards.
 
Senior Auror and Order member Hestia Jones would never have denied her surprise
when the unit of twenty Aurors she was commanding was suddenly descended upon
by several small but incredibly well organized units of what appeared to be new
Death Eaters. They had to be new. Everyone knew that no seasoned Death Eater
would ever hold back from using the Unforgivables on a whim. Would they?
Forcefully drawing herself out of her reverie, she fought fiercely and gave as
much encouragement to her men as she could. It was only twenty or thirty new
recruits versus her twenty battle trained Aurors and she was confident in their
ability. She realized with a sick lurch in her stomach that her group had only
seen half of the attacking force when the spells began to rain down on them
from behind and the circle of enemies tightened around them, leaving no route
open for escape.
“Rear defence!” she shouted out. Night became like day as dozens of spells
bounced off of their shields before a rapid gonging signalled the shattered
collapse of nearly everything they had between them and certain death. She and
her men quickly discovered that that disheartening sound wasn’t nearly as
devastating as the sight of Lord Voldemort himself firing spells into their
midst. The last thing Hestia Jones saw before the darkness took her was cold,
red eyes.
 
“Bind them all! Bella, take two of your teams with you and begin suppressing
any resistance on the Island. I will be across to join you with our ‘guests’ in
short order,” Voldemort ordered with a gleeful smirk that instantly faded into
cold calculation as twenty Death Eaters rushed away on her heels to do his
biding.
“Wormtail! Take your group across once the boats return and mop up any
resistance that remains and capture those who may be trying to escape at the
docks.”
Wormtail bowed nearly to the ground and scurried off with his group of ten. His
Master’s power was a glorious thing to behold tonight and he had no desire to
be punished when the Dark Lord was riding such an emotional high.
Gesturing for the remainder of his followers to fall into step behind him,
Voldemort led the way down to the docks with an entourage of thirty Death
Eaters and twenty unconscious and bound Aurors floating in tow behind them.
 
Met with a slightly more motivated and considerably better protected resistance
at Azkaban’s outer gates, Bellatrix gestured for the others to continue with
their assigned duties while she worked to target the better hidden Aurors with
strategically aimed Crucios. Standing in clear view, trusting the shield men to
protect her, she snarled and laughed madly at the Aurors.
“You can’t fight if you’re screaming!” Catching sight of one who had grown too
bold for his own good, she cast with her renowned skill and accuracy and a
scream pierced the night, a scream that suddenly came closer and then ended
with a sickening thud and crunch. The unexpected loss seemed to stun the aurors
into a momentary stillness that the Death Eaters did not honour.
Wormtail directed his men forward and the unexpected addition of reinforcements
signalled the end for the confused and disorganized Aurors. In less than twenty
minutes all told, the Island of Azkaban had fallen to Lord Voldemort’s forces.
 
Watching as his followers forced twenty-five unconscious Aurors into a kneeling
position and left them on the stone walkway so tightly bound they could barely
breathe, Voldemort stalked forward with predatory grace and smiled cruelly.
“You have done very well so far my faithful Death Eaters, but the night is not
over. Do not let your guard down until our coup is complete,” he commanded in a
tone that allowed no room for doubt or argument. “Enervate!” he commanded with
a sweeping gesture of his hand, crimson gaze coming to light on Hestia Jones as
the group of prisoners jerked awake under the force of his spell.
“You I remember from the last war.” He smirked in the face of her defiant glare
and sketched a mocking bow. “As defiant as always, I see, but this will be your
last night of such wilful striving. Watch and come to know the power you should
have chosen to follow!”
Turning away from the struggling Aurors, Voldemort faced the gates of Azkaban
and released his control over his aura of power while sending a surge of magic
into the Citadel to call forth the Dementors.
 
Fighting to control her fear of the mad man before her, Hestia shrank back from
him and whimpered when the Dark Lord’s unrestrained power beat at her mind and
body in an almost physical attack. Tears of defeat ran unheeded down her face.
“Can’t be real…can’t be true…”
 
Voldemort stood tall under the rush of bone deep chill that swept out from the
approaching Dementors and filled the quay with despair, making his Death Eaters
and the prisoners cringe away with equal alacrity. The wind stirred back to its
previous ferocity, increasing the chill and whipping his cloak around him as if
it, like the Dementors, was a thing born of the shadows.
The largest of the Dementors glided forward and seemed to assess the proud and
defiant wizard that stood before it.
“For what purpose do you summon us, Dark One?” The ‘nails being dragged across
a chalkboard’ quality of the creature’s voice sent those who were able cringing
even further away from the tableau between Voldemort and the Hive Master. The
prisoners just hunched further into their bonds and prayed to be ignored.
“Join me,” Voldemort declared boldly. “Join me and your brethren.”
“Why should we aid you? You already claim dominion over one of our Hives. You
cannot possibly believe that you, a mere wizard, can provide for more than what
you already command.” The disdain in the creature’s voice was a tangible thing
that seemed to want to reach out and strike Voldemort for his arrogance.
“I have much to offer,” Voldemort countered.
“Here, we feed at will and my Hive is safe. What more security than that can
your mortal power possibly offer us?”
“Yes, it is true that you do have security here,” Voldemort agreed. “But I
offer you a much greater opportunity, Hive Master. How long has it been since
your Hive was allowed to breed? How long since you have been free to feed on
more than the emotions of your prey? Join me and there will be only the mildest
of restrictions on your feeding habits.” He paused and could taste the
Dementor’s eagerness on his tongue like a fine wine. “I offer you the right to
breed. I offer you free feeding on all but those I have marked as mine. The
only other individual I ask you to spare is my enemy, Harry Potter.”
“Freedom to breed and freedom to feed on all but those you laid claim to
through your Mark and your rival, The Chosen?” The Hive Leader seemed to
consider that for but a moment before gliding forward with deadly speed, its
skeletal hands holding Voldemort’s face firmly in their grasp before the Dark
Lord could react or even think to back away. “I must taste of your truth before
I can make such a decision for my Hive.”
Hearing the Dementor speak in such a gentle tone put Voldemort off balance.
Whatever is it talking about? He had time to wonder that one thing before his
Death Eater’s cries of outrage and horror came to his ears as if from a great
distance. He could only stare, fascinated and enraptured, into the onrushing
face of death as the creature’s hood obscured his view of everything else. A
cold, bitterly painful sensation invaded his entire being and the most feared
Dark Lord in centuries did something he had sworn he would never do – he
surrendered to the inevitability of death. His body jerked sharply and went
utterly still in the Hive Master’s grip.
 
The truth of the Dark Lord’s intentions towards the Dementors flavoured every
particle of his essence and the Hive stirred eagerly around their leader. They
all agreed with him unanimously on this issue – release the Dark One to his
life so that they might live freely under his Dominion. Bowing to the
collective desires of his Hive, the Hive Master moved back from Voldemort’s
face and released his soul back into its shell of flesh and blood.
Jerking sharply yet again and gasping to suck in as much air as possible,
Voldemort let the Dementor steady him while he recovered what he could of his
shattered composure. That was NOT what he had expected from his meeting with
the Dementors.
“Your soul speaks of your intentions, Dark One. We will join you,” the Hive
Master stated and caressed Voldemort’s face with both hands before gliding away
a few feet. “What would you have us do?”
Feeling stronger than ever before and equally as weak as a newborn babe,
Voldemort drew in a deep breath before replying. He would deal with this
lingering weakness later…later or never if he could avoid looking too closely
at it. Standing tall once more, he organized his scattered thoughts.
“Bring me all of the prisoners within Azkaban’s walls. I will offer my Mark or
death to those strong enough to serve me. Those who choose death or who are too
weak to be of use to our cause are yours to do with as you please.”
“What of your prisoners, Dark One?”
“I am going to offer them the same option. Those who refuse me will also be
yours.” Voldemort turned his crimson gaze to the huddled Aurors once the
Dementors had drifted away to carry out his requests. “You see? I am not
without some small amount of mercy and forgiveness and I am going to triumph.
Join me.”
“That’s it? Join you just like that?” One of the older Aurors laughed, but the
sound was choked with fear and resignation. “You’re a monster and no one with a
scrap of loyalty to the Light would join you!”
Hestia shook her head in silent denial, the words of her fellow Auror sparking
her hope back to life. Deep in her heart, in the freshness of her loyalty to
Dumbledore, she believed that the Order was on the way to save them from this
fate and that certainty blazed in her eyes.
“Albus Dumbledore will stop you. A company of Aurors and members of the Order
of the Phoenix will be here before you can get away with this!” she declared,
back straightening with the strength of her belief. “Albus will send you
running with your tail between your legs!”
“Such fervent belief in your Minister and the dogma of a manipulative and
deceitful old man,” Voldemort teased mockingly – he was clearly in no hurry to
depart the site of his conquest. “Your great Albus Dumbledore is the one who
helped make me the wizard I am today. He will not be here in time to save any
of you.”
Turning, Voldemort acknowledge his disgraced inner circle; crimson eyes filled
with disdain as he observed their weakened magic and visibly ruined
appearances. He stepped closer to speak for their ears only.
“You are my Inner Circle, the best of my Death Eaters and yet you fell to the
meagre strength of a handful of school children and a few Order members.
Lucius, as leader of this group, you have much to atone for, but make no
mistake. All of you will be punished for this failure, but this is neither the
time nor the place for such things.” He stepped back and spoke for all to hear.
“Rejoin your brothers and sisters, my loyal Death Eaters. I welcome you home to
my ranks.”
He watched the eleven haggard men slowly make their way to the Haven of the
gathered Death Eaters before turning his attention to the sixty or so released
prisoners who sprawled, knelt or stood before him. His gaze roamed over them
all before he spoke.
“I give you all a choice,” he stated and noted which ones responded with a more
focused gaze. “I give you the choice of freedom through my Mark and the
satisfaction of fighting on the winning side or Death. Either way, you will be
free of this place. If you wish to join me, then go to my Death Eaters and they
will shelter you. Those who choose death need do nothing more than wait for it
to come upon you.”
Half of the men who stood or knelt before him sketched some sort of bow and
made their way to the dark solidarity of Voldemort’s followers. Smiling his
pleasure, Voldemort gave the Aurors one last chance to defect.
“One last chance at life, my dear Aurors. Turn from me now, and death is your
only option.” Hiding his surprise when three of the younger Aurors threw
themselves forward against their bonds and swore to follow him, he smirked.
“You will be made to prove you intentions in the very near future. For now, go
to your new brothers and sisters,” he stated and freed them with a seemingly
careless gesture. He held no illusions that he would have to kill them once it
came to the initiation ceremony, but that was days in the future. Their proven
loyalty would serve to cement his hold on the others nearly as well as their
deaths should they choose to betray him. Shaking his head over the tired
defiance of the remaining Aurors, he sighed and the sound was full of the deep
disappointment that only a parent can convey when their child has made a
particularly foolish choice.
“So be it. Those prisoners who have not joined my ranks are yours, Hive Master.
Enjoy this feast with my respectful compliments.”
Watching as the Aurors screamed and fought to escape the Dementors, Voldemort
licked his lips and savoured the pure rush of fear and the shocking level of
Hunger that filled the air as the Dementors descended on the strongest of the
prisoners first before turning on the less satisfying fare that was the souls
of the broken ones. Purring his pleasure, he turned away from the spectacle
only when one of his newer Elite called out that there was an incoming force
approaching using the boats from the opposite quay.
“Hive Master.”
“Yes, Dark One.”
“Cover our escape from these interlopers and then join me at my Manor.”
“As you command, Dark One.” The Hive Master moved forward and was followed by a
shadowy wave of more than fifty Dementors. “We are truly free to feast?”
“You are welcome to do so as long as it does not violate the terms of our
pact,” Voldemort stated and hissed a complex sounding string of spells in
Parsel before stabbing his wand upward towards the apex of Azkaban’s defensive
wards, the wave of magic causing the portkey wards to shatter in a brief but
beautiful display of light. “Teach them about fear.”
“As you say, Dark One.” The Dementors surged forward eagerly and Voldemort
gestured for his Death Eaters to portkey away. He paused to get a good look at
the horror on the Order member’s faces when they saw the Dementors crossing the
dark waters toward them and froze in terror of their situation. Dumbledore cast
the first Patronus and the others shook themselves free of whatever memories
the Dementors called up before they finally started firing off one Patronus
after another. Looking directly towards Dumbledore, Voldemort aimed his wand
upward once more and shouted out one word before portkeying home.
“Morsmordre!”
 
July_25th,_Snape_Manor
 
Sitting up with a sharp gasp, a green eyed teenager shuddered against a bitter
chill that his blankets and a warming charm did nothing to allay. The oft
ignored presence at the back of his consciousness returned as quickly as it had
vanished and he sagged with the relief that only normalcy can inspire. Then he
realized what had caused him to awaken so violently and the relief was tinged
by confusion and regret.
“Tom was gone,” he mused and couldn’t decide if he liked that idea or not.
“He’s never been gone before…” Shaking away the uneasy thoughts that followed
on the tails of that internal revelation, Harry sighed and rubbed his arms
briskly to banish the last of the gooseflesh.
“Tempus.”
 
Elsewhere in the house, Severus Snape woke with a sharp curse and rubbed his
painfully throbbing forearm, dark eyes full of confusion as they stared into
space. That wasn’t a summoning, he mused. That felt like before, almost fifteen
years ago. The dull ache that was his constant reminder of his pledge returned
less than a minute after the pain that had awakened him so rudely and he
frowned into the darkness. What madness is the Dark Lord playing at now?
 
“One in the bloody morning.” Grumbling under his breath about inconsiderate
Dark Lords, Harry lay back down and focused on the door that led to Tom’s mind.
Knocking lightly in a vague show of courtesy, he opened the door and stepped
through into a richly appointed study full of old, dark wood furniture and
bookshelves full of equally antique looking tomes.
“Huh. That’s not exactly what I was expecting,” he muttered and reached out for
a sense of how occupied his rival was at the current time. Shaking his head at
Tom’s curtly delivered ‘busy, talk later’, Harry pulled over a piece of
parchment and a quill so he could leave a note before returning to his own mind
and the sleep that was pulling at his consciousness.
 
July_25th,_#_12_Grimmauld_Place
 
Looking around the large kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Albus Dumbledore felt very
old for the first time that he could recall. He saw fear and defeat in the eyes
of those who had just returned from the rout at Azkaban and saw worse things
from those that accompanied him back to the prison an hour or two after their
very narrow escape. If Voldemort hadn’t destroyed the anti-portkey wards, they
might very well have all been Kissed before they could reach the opposite quay.
“Are we waiting on any others tonight, Alastor?”
“No, Albus, this is all that could make it.” Alastor Moody leaned against the
wall in Snape’s usual spot and watched everything with his magical eye. “Might
as well get started.”
“Indeed, I might as well.” Albus sighed and gathered his thoughts. “There was a
raid on Azkaban tonight and Voldemort must have planned very well because,
loath as I am to admit it, he scored a nearly flawless coup. Of the thirty
aurors stationed to guard the prison, all but three are accounted for. We
believe that the remaining three may have been taken prisoner for any
information they might have. He now has the entirety of his Inner Circle at his
disposal and he left the Island with twenty seven inmates in tow. They are
presumed to be new recruits. All of the remaining prisoners and the aurors were
subjected to the Kiss and left for dead outside Azkaban’s gates…so I must sadly
assume that the rest of the Dementors have joined Voldemort…”
“How many are dead, Albus? Did we lose anyone we know?” Molly interjected, face
wet with tears.
“Some of you may have known any number of the aurors, but I do not have their
names at this time. We did lose one of our own number tonight. Hestia Jones was
among the Aurors that were Kissed.” Rubbing at his eyes as much from exhaustion
as grief, Albus shook his head. “Voldemort looked directly at me as we were
attacked by the Dementors and only then did he cast the Mark and leave. We must
find Harry. He is the key to victory and the brightest target for Voldemort to
fixate on.”
“Old Voldy will recruit a lot more heavily now,” Moody stated. “He has his most
experienced people back in the fold to get the newbies up to speed and, with
his methods of motivation, I doubt it will take very long at all to get them
where he wants them to be, so get your heads out of your arses, people! Yes, we
took a terrible blow tonight, but he won’t wait for us to mourn. This is
already worse than the majority of his attacks during the last War and he’s
just getting warmed up.”
“What can we do?” Arthur asked. “Very few of us are seasoned fighters…we have
very few Aurors and trained personnel. How are we going to win this if we can’t
keep him from winning his objectives without any loses on his part?”
“We do need to improve our skills,” Albus admitted grudgingly. “But we must not
stoop to the level of the Death Eaters. The moment we begin to kill as they do
is the moment when all is lost. There are other ways to win that do not require
the degree of force that Voldemort insists on using…”
“You go right ahead and keep thinking that way, Albus, old friend. I’ll be
going about the business of killing me some Death Eaters so they can’t get back
up and kill other people who didn’t deserve to die,” Moody stated bluntly.
“They can’t enervate their comrades if they’ve been hit with the Avada
Kedavra.”
“I won’t have such talk going on, Alastor,” Albus chided over the whispers
Moody’s words had stirred up. “We simply have to try harder to keep them from
doing more harm.”
More general murmuring rose up, some of it agreeing with Albus, some of it
agreeing with Moody, and the meeting degenerated from there into a speculative
discussion on the war and the future.
 
July_25th_,_Unplottable_Location
 
Mood high, magic charged by the euphoric rush of a nearly flawless victory,
Voldemort strode through the makeshift infirmary his Death Eaters had set up
for the Inner Circle members and newest recruits alike. Nodding to those who
were awake and aware, he continued his rounds until he felt the arrival of his
loyal healers. Turning on his heel, he returned to the front of the ward and
stood waiting for these, the most secretive of his Death Eaters. Of his entire
amassed forces, his Healer’s identities were the most jealously protected.
Seeing Voldemort, the small group of Healers bowed respectfully to the Dark
Lord.
“Are any critically injured, my Lord?” asked the eldest of the half dozen men
and women.
“Not that I have been able to perceive, Master Healer. Please check everyone
over and report to me on how soon everyone will be physically able to
participate in the Initiations and the Revel that will follow,” Voldemort
requested. “If you and your fellow healers deem them healthy enough, I would
like to hold the events on the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth.”
“As long as no one is in critical condition, I see no reason why they wouldn’t
be ready to participate by the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth, my Lord. I will
report to you as soon as we have assessed the condition of all of our patients.
How many are we tending to?”
“Eleven of my Inner Circle and thirty new recruits.” Voldemort smiled a little.
He was most pleased by the outcome of the night’s events.
The healer’s eyes widened before his pleasure showed even behind the bronze
mask he was wearing.
“A true coup, my Lord! We should be able to give you our report in no more than
two hours.” The Master Healer stepped forward a little and bowed his head again
before speaking in a whisper. “I have heard rumours that you were kissed by the
Hive Leader, but he released your soul. If it pleases my lord, I would like to
make sure you have suffered no ill effects…”
“I’ll be in my study. Attend me there once you have finished with your duties
to your Brothers and Sisters.”
“It will be as you command, my Lord.” All six healers bowed again and bustled
off to do their work.
 
Relaxing behind his desk, booted feet propped on its surface, Voldemort waited
on the Healers to make their report and found the note Harry had left behind on
his mental ‘desk’. Smirking at the very succinct statement, he sighed.
“Soon, we’ll talk soon,” he whispered into the empty room and was dozing
lightly when the Master Healer knocked on his door.
Letting himself into the study when his Lord called, the Healer frowned behind
his mask. He could hear and see how tired the powerful wizard was and that was
unacceptable in his mind.
“Forgive me my boldness, M’lord, but I hope the gain far exceeded the cost of
your interaction with the Dementors.”
Unfazed by the healer’s concern, Voldemort just shrugged and sat up properly
under the man’s measuring gaze.
“The gain was great, Master Healer; both of the local Dementor Hives have now
rallied to my battle standard and I gained a substantial number of useful new
followers. What is your assessment of my Inner Circle and the new recruits?”
“All but the three Aurors are suffering from malnutrition and sleep
deprivation,” the Healer began with a sour look. “They are all being given the
option to speak with our Mind Healer and the physical damage can be cured with
potions and rest.” He sat at a gesture from the Dark Lord. “Why bring the
Aurors, m’lord? I had the Mind Healer check them over passively and at least
one of them is gambling on his chances of escaping…”
“I knew I would have to kill at least one of the Aurors by the time the
Initiations are over, so that comes as no surprise to me. Of the thirty
newcomers, I expect to lose at least ten when they are faced with the reality
of taking my Mark. Those that do submit to my rule will be nothing more than
fodder, a shield, for those who have already proven their loyalty and worth.”
Relaxing visibly, the Healer nodded his agreement with Voldemort’s assessment
of the recruit situation.
“That is what I had hoped you were intending,” he admitted and then shifted
topics. “I would feel a lot better if all of your inner circle spoke with a
Mind Healer at least once, m’lord. They were all under very heavy Dementor
exposure for nearly a month…”
“For the new recruits and lesser Death Eaters, do what you feel is needed, but
if my Inner Circle refuses you, let it drop. I will only command it if I see a
reason to do so.”
Not entirely pleased with the ‘compromise’ Voldemort had delivered, the Healer
nodded and resigned himself to it none the less. He would get no where by
trying to argue with a stone wall.
“How do you feel, M’lord? May I run a health scan on your person?”
“Run your scan. I don’t feel any side effects beyond being tired.” Passively
allowing the magic of the Healer’s scan to work past his reflexive defences,
Voldemort smirked a little when the Healer still had to push more magic into
the spell to make it work properly. “What are you expecting to find?”
“I’m checking to make sure the stability of your magical core is undisturbed as
well as checking for physical damage,” the Healer mused and flickered his gaze
back and forth as he ‘read’ the results of the scan. “Your core is stable and
strong.”
Clearly relieved, he studied the rest of the information and prepared to offer
his diagnosis.
“The Kiss appears to have depleted your physical resources far more deeply than
your magical, which I would not have anticipated, but that does explain the
tiredness. Please eat a small, high protein meal before you go to sleep,
M’lord. That should be enough with a good night’s rest to replenish your
physical reserves.”
“So otherwise, I am well.”
“Yes, m’lord. I will leave you to eat and rest and will report again later
today.”
“I will see you then, Master Healer.” Voldemort waited until the man was gone,
then magically locked his door and cast a parseltongue privacy spell. Returning
to his core, he crossed the ‘study’ and went directly into Harry’s mind. “Wake
up, my little Serpent.”
Aware of Tom the moment he appeared in his mind, Harry frowned and paused with
his fork halfway to his mouth. Putting it down with a sigh, he turned his focus
inward so he could find out what the older wizard had been up to and what else
he might want to talk about.
 
Dobby watched his young master’s eyes go distant as he descended into the Zen-
like state the house elf had come to associate with deeper Occlumency work.
“Yous is being safe, Master Harry,” he whispered nervously and set himself to
guard the teen.
 
“Tom…you’re tired. You could have gotten some sleep before coming to talk to
me,” Harry chastised gently.
“I’ll have all day to sleep once we’re done talking,” Voldemort replied. “What
was on your mind?”
“What happened to you early this morning? I felt you…go away.” Harry pushed his
uneasiness away again and focused on his visitor.
“You felt that?” Pushed off balance by that knowledge and the resurfacing
memory of the event that had caused Harry’s inquiry, Voldemort made a more
active effort to push away the enveloping numbness that he had been trying to
simply ignore by focusing extraneous issues like his own physical needs and the
readiness of his followers. “The fireplace and chairs are new. When did you
change it?”
“Seeing your study reminded me that there’s no need to always sit on the
floor.” Harry eyed the older wizard and gestured to offer him a seat. He
actually looked like he needed it. “Now, tell me what the bloody hell
happened.”
“I was Kissed by a Dementor.” Saying it just seemed to make it all worse.
Hearing an unsteady undertone to the Dark Lord’s tone that he had never
expected to hear, Harry frowned and sat down across from him. Studying Tom
intently, he decided to continue with the rather blunt and direct tact he’d
started on. The older wizard seemed to be fighting against something, but he
couldn’t tell for certain what it was.
“So your thing is to survive being Kissed like I survived the Killing Curse?”
“Not exactly, no…” Voldemort shifted restlessly. Just talking about what the
Hive Master had done to him was bringing back that foreign urge to just give up
the fight and part of him was grateful for the younger wizard’s unrelenting
attack on the subject while the rest of him wanted to curse him to make him
shut up about it so he could enjoy the peace of surrender. “It let me go…”
“I can’t imagine how that felt, but it must have been awful. Why aren’t you
pitching a fit about it? I certainly wouldn’t be this quiet,” Harry observed.
Laughing shakily, crimson eyes wild with a dozen conflicting emotions,
Voldemort stood abruptly and began to pace. Movements unusually jerky,
breathing sharp, he growled under his breath. Words tumbled out of his mouth
and he couldn’t seem to find the will to stop the flow any more than he could
stop the small shudders that wracked his tall, lean frame.
“I let it kill me…it moved so fast and I didn’t even understand what it was
doing when it said it had to taste my truth until all of a sudden I could
breathe again…” Shaking his head as if to deny the reality of what he had
experienced, Voldemort rubbed goose fleshed arms and paced even more
frantically.
“It was so easy to just give in, to surrender and not have to fight any
more…I’d never felt that before…It felt so warm, so right…”
“You’ll never stop fighting, Tom.” If there was one thing Harry felt certain
of, it was this wizard’s indomitable will power. The only way he would stop
fighting is if there was nothing left of him to fight with. “It’s not in your
nature to surrender. That’s another trait we share.”
“You sound so sure…” Voldemort’s voice had gone soft with uncertainty and the
looming wave of shock he was losing the battle against.
“The Dementor didn’t intend to take your soul permanently or you would have
felt the threat.” Voldemort offered little or no response to his statement and
Harry reacted on an instinctive level that he didn’t quite understand.
Flashing, angry green eyes met crimson and sought to convey his certainty
through force of will alone. He snarled silently in an uncharacteristically
open show of aggression. “Don’t you dare give up now, Tom Riddle. Don’t you
dare give up before we’ve played this out to the bitter end!”
Staggered by the angry command in Harry’s voice and by the push of powerful
magic against his own, Voldemort shook himself free of the shock like state the
Dementor’s kiss had left him with. Staring back into blazing eyes the colour of
his favourite curse, he nodded with his usual assertiveness and drew himself up
tall once more.
Now that the haze was gone, the things he had been feeling revolted him, but he
found that he could not push the memories from his mind completely. It was
almost as if the Hive Master had slipped through every mental defence he had
like a hot knife through butter and the mental compulsion it had used was a
lingering thing that had required the resistance of himself and Harry to break
free of it.
“Insolent brat,” Voldemort snapped irritably.
“Bloody bastard,” Harry retorted. “Feel better now?”
“I…yes, I do.” Voldemort sighed explosively. “You are always a breath of fresh
air, but today I think you decided to be a hurricane, my little serpent. You
are no more allowed to give up than I am. Things have not even begun to get
interesting between us.”
“We’ll have plenty of time for fights and duels, Tom. I’m looking forward to
it, but I have to go now. Dobby is trying to get my attention for some reason.”
“Go then and read about my coup,” Voldemort directed. “It should be in the
Prophet by now.”
 
July_25th,_Snape_Manor
 
“I most likely will,” Harry said aloud as the other wizard vanished and he woke
from his trance to the concerned gazes of Dobby, Remus and Severus.
“You most likely will what?” Severus drawled with a sharper edge to his tone.
“Read about Tom’s coup in the Daily Prophet. Is it here, yet?” Harry looked
down at his plate and frowned. It had been nearly empty when he started his
conversation with Tom and now it was full again. A glance at an unrepentant
Dobby answered his question before he could even voice it. “I think he took
Azkaban. Dementors are most common there, as I recall.”
“Exactly how often are you holding what appear to be polite and civil
conversations with The Dark Lord?” Severus’ hands shook from the urge to
throttle the younger wizard into some semblance of common sense when it came to
dangerous people and things. “Are you going to invite him over for tea now!?”
Remus coughed and stared at Severus like he’d lost his mind until Harry replied
and the look broadened to include him in the werewolf’s assessment of his
pack’s sanity.
“I talk with him occasionally, but the polite and civil part only developed
since the possession at the Ministry,” Harry replied and dug into his fresh
plate of breakfast. “Tea might not be a good idea. He’s not exactly a socially
well adjusted person.” He looked over at Remus. “Flies, Moony. Did we get the
Prophet this morning?”
“Huh? Oh, right…” Closing his mouth and opening the tightly rolled newspaper,
Remus paled abruptly and shook his head. “Merlin help us…he scored a coup
alright…”
Pulling the newspaper from the werewolf’s unresisting hands, Harry focused on
the front page as Severus stepped around the table to read over his shoulder.
 
AZKABAN FALLS TO HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED!!!!!
 
In a shocking attack all too reminiscent of His last rise to power, He Who Must
Not Be Named stormed Azkaban Prison with an overwhelming force of Death Eaters
just after Midnight last night.
Details are sketchy, but it is confirmed that dozens were left for dead on the
boat docks, all the victims of the Dementor’s Kiss. Rumours have it that He Who
Must Not Be Named led the attack personally and Aurors in the force that
responded to the alarms insist that it was the Monster himself who cast the
Dark Mark over the bodies of the fallen, further denigrating their brave
sacrifice.
All but three of the defending Aurors have been accounted for and thirty-eight
inmates are currently considered missing as well. It is believed that all of
that number has been taken prisoner by He Who Must Not Be Named and we fear
that his intentions do not bode well for their survival.
Be prepared to defend yourselves and never leave your home without your wand
ready and available for use! Avoid travelling alone! These are dark times and
the monsters are growing ever bolder! We will faithfully provide more
information as it becomes available to us.
More on the missing Aurors page 02
More on practical defence page 06
 
“So that’s what happened,” Harry mused to himself. “I see they’re still
refusing to acknowledge the ‘Who’s Who of Death Eaters’ list we gave them at
the Ministry.”
“What are you talking about?” Severus shook himself and sat back down across
from Remus. “What do you know about this attack, Harry?”
“I know that something very odd woke me around one this morning and I now know
that Tom was Kissed by a Dementor and then released at that time.” Harry put
the paper down and sighed unhappily. “Tom didn’t tell me everything and I doubt
he will.”
“The Dark Lord was Kissed? So that’s what I felt…” Severus rubbed his forearm
and echoed Harry’s tired sigh, his obsidian gaze searching the younger man’s
eyes. “It’s useless to ask you to stop talking to Him isn’t it.” His tone held
only absolute certainty that he was correct in his assumption.
“He comes to me a lot more often than I go to him, so yes, it’s pretty useless
unless you can get him to stop initiating conversations,” Harry stated in
between bites of eggs, bangers and toast. “So far the majority of our talks
have been centred around the importance of my studies, anyway.”
Remus choked on his tea and sat there coughing for several long moments; his
amber eyes stayed focused on his Cub’s face while he tried to wrap his mind
around the concept of Voldemort encouraging Harry to be more studious. He
finally managed to croak out an incredulous statement.
“Your studies?! Bloody hell…”
“Yeah, I know how you feel. It sounds really weird to say that Voldemort wants
me to study so that our final duel will be more challenging, but that’s what he
seems to want,” Harry admitted. “You okay over there, Moony?”
“I’m way too old and not nearly old enough for this,” Remus whispered and
beseeched Harry with his eyes. “Would you mind keeping us at least a little up
to date on what you talk about with him? If we can stop just one raid…”
“I’ll tell you if I find anything out, but I don’t see the meetings and
everything unless I want to anymore, so I’m not nearly as good of an early
warning system as I was in fifth year. Even if it is after the fact, I’ll still
tell you, though. Who knows. That might still save a life or two.”
Severus shook his head and slumped back in his chair, expression full of
conflicting thoughts. “You can’t do anything the easy way, can you, Harry? Not
a bloody damn thing…”
 
July_26th,_Snape_Manor
 
“Remus?”
“Yes, Cub?”
“Did anyone ever wonder why I was so small and thin?” Emerald green eyes
studied the greying werewolf with a deadly serious intensity.
“Of course we did, Harry. I did, Sirius did and I’m sure Severus did, though he
wouldn’t have asked given the compulsion he was under,” Remus whispered, amber
eyes dark with pain. “Albus assured Sirius and me that you were just small for
your age…like Lily before she hit her maturity.” He grimaced and shook his
head. “When I persisted and pointed out that Lily wasn’t that small, he sent me
out on a lot of missions, especially after I was outed during your third year.”
“Did you go on the missions?”
“No. Padfoot…we were hunting Wormtail to clear Siri’s name.” Remus swiped at
his face angrily, as if the tears offended him. “Albus always did his best to
keep us from you. Hedwig is the only owl that ever seemed to make it to us and
back to you.”
“Would you like to know what my childhood was like, what that manipulative old
bastard made me live through for the greater fucking good?” Harry stared at
Remus, gaze boring into him with an almost physical intensity. “The Dursley’s
starved me, y’know. They locked me in the cupboard under the stairs until my
Hogwarts letter came. It was addressed to me in the cupboard under the bloody
STAIRS!” Drawing in a deep breath, then slowly letting it out, Harry fought to
calm down when things started rattling all around them.
“Dumbledore knew and he never did anything about it. No matter what I told him
about the way I was treated, he forced me to go back there and live with those
muggles because of my Mother’s blood, her sister, Aunt Petunia.”
“But…” Remus paled noticeably. Could this get any worse? Was Albus really that
manipulative? Oh, don’t ask that…you know it’s true…
“Your mother…Lily was adopted. Petunia isn’t a blood relative…”
“Adopted…my mother was ADOPTED!!??” The glass in the windows all along the wall
behind them shattered in a spectacular spray of glass as the young wizard’s
temper spiked, his eyes taking on a solid Avada Kedavra coloured glow of power.
Harry hissed threateningly low in his throat. “Who were her parents? Did
Dumbledore know about this, too?”
Remus jerked back from the fountain of sparkling glass fragments and stared at
the windows as the house’s restorative spells struggled to overcome the
destructive nature of Harry’s power so that they could fix the windows. “I
don’t know if Albus knew, but her birth certificate should be in the family
vault, so we can check to see who her birth parents were,” Remus whispered and
swallowed carefully before continuing. “We’ll find out, Cub. I promise.” He
quietly cast several Reparos on the windows and was thankful that the extra
magic seemed to overcome the inertia, as the broken glass seemed to be the only
damage to the home.
Seeing Remus casting charms to fix what he had broken snapped Harry out of his
bitter anger and focused him on the room. Seeing the slowly mending glass, he
relaxed and watched in awe as it suddenly seemed to leap back into the casings.
“Wow…did I break all of those..? I’m sorry…hearing that just made me too angry
to think…”
“That’s okay, Cub, but is it usually so difficult to fix what you break in a
temper?”
“It’s been worse for Dumbledore. There are things of his that he still hasn’t
fixed.” Harry laughed a little and that broke the last of his hard edged anger.
He was still angry, but it wasn’t the dangerous emotion it had been only
moments before. “Of course that could be because Dobby helps them stay broken…”
“Dobby helps…oh, sweet Merlin, that’s what he meant when he told me he had been
helping Albus…” Remus groaned, then started to laugh and was joined by his Cub
in a moment of shared merriment at the expense of another.
 
Considerably calmer after he had vented off a large quantity of excess magic
through the shattering of a bunch of windows, Harry let his thoughts carry him
into happier discussions. He would have plenty of time to stew over this newest
revelation about Dumbledore’s duplicity when his magic wasn’t quite so tetchy…
“What all did you arrange with Gringotts for our wild Marauder’s vacation,
Moony? I meant to ask a few days ago, but I’ve been a little distracted.”
Relieved to see that his Cub was willing to ease up and let their previous
discussion go for now, Remus relaxed and smiled tentatively. Prior to Harry’s
display of intense, emotion driven accidental magic, he had been considering
the possibility of talking with him about Padfoot…that didn’t seem like such a
bright idea at the moment.
“I arranged for Albus, the ministry crew as you have so aptly dubbed them,
Amelia Bones and a few others to receive postcards and gifts from you or us,
depending on your relationship with the recipient. I wanted to make sure that
Amelia knew you were out of your own free will so we wouldn’t have Aurors
waiting on us at Kings Crossing. Not everything that Albus receives will be
insulting to keep him from becoming too suspicious about your malleability and
I made sure that Arthur would get at least one really neat muggle gadget.
Griphook promised to send you a full list of what they will receive so you can
react appropriately.”
“That sounds good to me. Griphook is the best for getting things done. You seem
to have gotten on with him alright.”
Grinning at the memory of his first meeting with the current Potter Estate
manager, Remus nodded and slouched back in his seat as his amber eyes
brightened with amusement.
“He pinned me with the most ruthless stare I’ve ever seen on a goblin and read
your letter with one eye on me the entire time. Bloody hell, Cub, I didn’t know
goblins could do the ‘protective mother hen’ thing better than Molly Weasley…”
Blinking at the imagery those words created in his mind, Harry slid sideways on
the sofa and groaned after several long minutes of laughing.
“Damn you, that hurts, but I needed a good laugh like that. What else
happened?”
“Like you don’t already know,” Remus teased with just a touch of irritation
when he saw the mischievous look in his Cub’s eyes. “Your goblin informed me
that, as yourgodfathers, Severus and I should come directly to him for any
business that relates to your accounts. You could have told us, Cub…hell…”
“You both have done so much for me and I know you care about me. That also
seemed like the easiest way to explain our relationship to the goblins for
now.” Harry arched an eyebrow at the werewolf as if to challenge him to
disagree.
Remus almost rose to the bait and protested, but he could see Harry’s point and
he just didn’t feel up to arguing when his Cub had that stubborn set to his
jaw.
“I suppose so, though it still would have been nice to hear it from you
beforehand…”
“It just came to me while I was writing the letter, Moony…I didn’t think beyond
that. I’m sorry…” The younger wizard sighed and then grinned crookedly. “I do
need you two to think about something for me. The rest of the Ministry crew has
been seeing a Mind Healer and I think I need to go to at least one of the
sessions. Besides the obvious mess I have going on in my head, I need to know
if I can really trust him with my friends…I’d like you two to go with me.”
A relief like none other filled Remus when Harry made that one request. If his
Cub was willing to see this Mind Healer on his own, then maybe some of these
pressing emotional issues could be dealt with before they caused an explosion
that neither he nor Severus could control.
“I’ll talk to Severus about it. When do they meet with the Healer?”
“Every Monday and Wednesday.”
“We’ll get you there, Harry. I’ll let you know for sure in the next day or so.”
 
July28th,_Snape_Manor
 
“Severus tells me that you have a ‘trunk’ full of Tom Riddle’s old memories
floating around up there in your head,” Remus commented quietly. “Is that
true?”
“It’s not floating around loose like your statement implies, but yes, I do have
what seems to be most of his memories from before he tried to kill me. Why?”
Harry marked his place and closed the book on goblin language that he was
currently re-reading. Giving his attention to his mentors, he arched an eyebrow
in a very good imitation of Severus.
“We’re just worried, Harry.” Severus paced in a vain attempt to hide his
discomfort over the subject matter and paused only long enough to meet Harry’s
gaze so he could properly convey his concern. “So much of what he knew then was
incredibly dangerous for anyone to know, himself included. Look where it got
him.”
Harry sighed expressively and muttered under his breath in Gobblely.
“What was that, Harry? I do believe I just heard you speak goblin.” Remus had
just enough of a grasp on the goblin language to know it when he heard it and
that had most definitely not been Latin or Parseltongue.
“When did you learn Gobblely?”
Gesturing to the large tome he still held in his lap, Harry grinned crookedly.
“I told you I had the goblin books written by my ancestor. This one is strictly
devoted to the language. I’m re-reading it to make sure everything stuck in my
head.”
“Really? Say whatever you said again, please. It’s been a while, but I might
understand what it was if you didn’t mumble,” Severus stated and earned himself
a green glare. “Well?”
“Fine,” Harry growled and sounded very goblin-like. The irritation that was
fuelling his tone made his eyes flash a brighter green as he spoke in the
growling, rough language of the goblins. “Ar huur mel shuuraur dunn
alkuugal’dekhec dac akukaan A muul. Gharthaan mel ac ogech rharar duun.” He
gave both men a tooth filled smile that would have made Griphook proud. “Did
you catch that?”
“Brat,” Severus grumbled, his eyes widening as his mind translated part of what
he had heard. “I caught the ‘evil bastard’ part. What else did you say? Please?
I’m curious…”
“I said that it got him closer to immortality than anyone else I know. Made him
an evil bastard, too,” the younger wizard translated with a sigh, his pique
gone as fast as it had come into being. “Although, honestly, the Dark magic
didn’t have to make him that way entirely on its own; it had help. He was
already so…darkat such a young age. The one memory I accidentally
viewed…Merlin.” Harry shuddered, but not entirely from revulsion.
“You don’t have to talk about it if it was that awful, Cub.” Remus carefully
brushed Harry’s unruly fringe back so he could see his eyes. What he saw drew
him up short and it was Severus who replied to his unspoken question.
“Parts of it were awful, but part of it was also very much to your liking,
wasn’t it.” Severus knew the truth of it without receiving an answer. He could
see it in Harry’s eyes.
“It scared me half to death at first,” Harry breathed, eyes going distant as he
allowed himself to remember yet again. “I got sucked into one of his memories
and it felt like I was him. This bully and a bunch of his hangers on were after
him and they made a point of telling the ‘freak’ that the house mother was too
drunk to be able to help him that time.”
Harry’s tone and expression shifted subtly and his eyes filled with a deep
satisfaction. “We kicked the bully when he rushed in on us…we kicked him until
he stopped moving and couldn’t beg us for mercy any more…blood was coming out
of his mouth…” Harry smirked maliciously, then froze and blinked as if coming
out of a dream. A dark red flush crept up his neck and he swallowed
convulsively. “My mind replaced the bully in Tom’s memory with Dudley and
Piers…believe me when I tell you that I know exactly how dangerous these
memories are for me.”
“Will you please let me show you how to get rid of them now?” Severus tried to
keep the fear and unease out of his voice and failed miserably. That smirk…it
was an expression he was all too painfully familiar with. “Please, Harry…”
The green eyed teen shook his head and slowly recovered his composure after
having shown both men what was, in his opinion, far more than they needed to
know about the turmoil he was sorting out in his head. Seeing Severus so upset
and worried for his safety made him forgive the older man a little bit more,
though. Severus really did care and he was trying so very hard to make amends
for his previous mistreatment.
“Getting rid of the memories isn’t going to help me,” Harry whispered. “There
is simply too much pure knowledge in there that could save my life. Once I’ve
settled down after my Maturity, I’m going to take another look through whatever
is in the trunk and I’d like to have you two and Dobby there when I do it so I
have someone to help me through the rough spots. I was stupid and unprepared to
deal with the first one…”
“We’ll do everything we can for you, Cub. You know that,” Remus stated and
squeezed Severus’ shoulder comfortingly. “How are you really feeling now that
you’re away from the Dursleys?”
“Much better,” Harry stated emphatically and smiled with far more happiness
than either man had seen from him in all the years they had known him. “Now
that I’m getting past the fact that they were just one more lie to keep me in
line, I feel a lot better knowing they’re not my blood relatives. I never could
understand how my mother came from the same family as Petunia. Mom was so
beautiful…”
“And Petunia looks like she’s related more closely to a horse than a human
being,” Remus quipped with a wolfish grin. “Yes, I do understand.”
“You’re not the only one,” Severus muttered with a mild shudder.
“So, enough of all that depressing stuff,” Harry declared with a crooked grin.
“Would either or both of you like to borrow my goblin books as I finish them?
I’m done with the first four and they’re quite informative. I’ll be another day
or two on this one, but after that you can dig into it, too.”
“Only a day or two? How far along are you in that one?” Eyeing the large tome
that Harry held in his lap, Severus whistled softly when the younger wizard
opened the book to a point around a third through it. “I will be impressed if
you finish that in a week and I believe Miss Granger may pass out when she
finds out how much studying you’ve been doing.”
“The books all have a minor enhancement spell on the cover that can only be
read by an Evans descendent. They increase things like reading speed and
comprehension, or so Griphook tells me.” Harry grinned and shrugged. “As for
‘Mione, she already knows about my Library. I had to promise to pass some of
the books along to her just to keep her from threatening bodily harm.”
“That sounds like Hermione.” Remus arched an eyebrow at Severus when his
schoolmate smirked at him and shook his head. “What?”
“Hermione?” Severus drawled, black eyes full of amusement.
“I’m not her teacher anymore, you old bat,” the last of the Marauders declared
with a smirk. “I get to be on a first name basis with all of the pretty girls.”
Remus blushed abruptly and darted a glance at Harry before stammering out a
retraction on his statement. “Um…I didn’t mean that the way it came out…oh,
bloody hell, don’t look at me like that, Harry…you look just like your mother
when she was going to get someone good…”
“I actually think you were channelling Sirius there for a minute,” Harry
commented with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Moony. We’ll keep your lust for
Hermione a secret. Won’t we, Severus?”
Sputtering, caught between laughter at the look on Remus’ face and indignation
over the whole conversation, the Slytherin settled for simply staring at Harry
with obvious confusion. He finally found his voice after several long minutes
of trying to figure out how serious the teen was being. “Do not even consider
putting me in the middle of your prankster shenanigans, Mr. Potter,” he finally
managed, ears as red as Remus’ face.
“I don’t…you wouldn’t tell her that…Cub…”
Sniggering, Harry just shook his head and sighed.
“You do know what a joke is, right?”
 
July_29th,_Unplottable_Location
 
Anticipation building to a fever pitch, Voldemort strode down into the dungeons
and paused briefly at the door to each cell, his crimson gaze measuring the
merits and value of each captive.
“Such a sweet blend of power,” he mused, voice nearly lapsing into the
sibilance of parseltongue as he observed the small group of relatively pretty
young women that resided in one of the last cells. “So perfectly frightened…”
Laughing to himself, he moved on to peek into the last few cells and completed
his ‘inventory inspection’ in even higher spirits than when he had entered the
lower levels of his Manor.
 
Lounging with regal grace on a chaise that was located in a private study that
he was sharing with the rest of his fellow Inner Circle members, Lucius sighed
and struggled to contain his anxiety. He both loved and craved the power boost
offered by the Revels, but the looming threat of his Lord’s displeasure had all
but spoiled the excitement for him.
“Oh, for fucks sake, Lucius!” Bellatrix growled at the silver haired wizard
with a look of complete disdain that lost some of its bite because of her
obvious understanding of his mood. “Just offer yourself at his feet tonight and
get it over with. If he doesn’t ignore you completely, then he’ll make you
scream for a mercy you know he’ll never offer and you’ll feel better about
having failed Him because he finally punished you...”
“The voice of experience,” Lucius drawled and smirked at the only female to
ever be powerful and dangerous enough to make her way to the top of the Death
Eater ranks. “Wormtail told us all about your screams for mercy.” He taunted
and then snorted with all of the pure blood pride he could find within himself
at that moment. “I know better than to believe his drivel. You never scream for
mercy, Bellatrix. You scream for more.”
“Now who is the voice of experience,” Rodolphus asked with a chuckle that
threatened to turn into full blown laughter when Lucius turned a haughty, cold
sneer in his direction.
Bellatrix shrugged to let Lucius know she didn’t care that he knew this about
her before fixing her chuckling husband and brother-in-law with a cold, vicious
stare of her own.
“Laugh, and after the Revel, when we all go to him to be punished for our
failure at the Ministry, I will savour your screams the most. You do not truly
feel your failure as we do, or you would welcome it with far more eagerness.”
Sobering, Rodolphus glared back at his wife, but it lacked the wintry bite of
her gaze.
“I accept any punishment my Lord sees fit to administer, but I do not lust
after the pain like you two do. You’re both practically whores for the pain he
gives out.”
Rabastan stared at his brother in silent disbelief before Macnair and Dolohov’s
laughter cut through his daze.
“What are you going on about? I remember how you used to be, Brother…the pot
shouldn’t speak ill of the kettle, you know,” the younger Lestrange brother
chided Rodolphus.
“You have clearly spent too much time in Azkaban, Rodolphus. You have lost part
of your memory,” Antonin Dolohov stated. “I recall there not being one of us
who didn’t feel at least some amount of yearning for the next Crucio.”
Seeing nothing but mute agreement from Macnair, Mulciber and Avery, Rodolphus
growled and stormed out of the room in a roil of angry energy.
“Well, I’d say that went well, all things considered,” Vincent Crabbe, Sr.
mused and chuckled wryly. “Perhaps you should take Bellatrix’s advice, Lucius.
The Dark Lord has been in very high spirits since the raid. Laying yourself at
his feet might very well see you punished tonight, but at least then it will be
done and your will be able to think past it to what needs to be done next.”
“I may well do that. It is the waiting for the blow to fall that drives me to
the edge of insanity.” Lucius eyed Rabastan curiously when he grinned. “You
disagree?”
“No, I fully agree. My reasoning may be different than your own, but I can
understand the motivation.” Sighing, Rabastan stood and stretched. “I’ll go
fetch my brother before he does something rash, like ruining our Lord’s good
temper before we even have a chance to enjoy the Revel.”
“You’re a good man, Rab,” Macnair stated. “Good luck on that.”
 
Bellatrix shook her head, dark blue eyes focused on the silver fox that was
lounged so gracefully across from her.
“How do you do it, Lucius? How do you manage to keep your wife happy when you
are so thoroughly bound to His will?”
“I would assume in a manner similar to how you manage to keep your husband
happy while being equally bound to our Lord’s will,” Lucius stated. “Why should
I have difficulty handling both?”
Vincent threw his hands up in the air and went to find a book or something to
occupy his attention while the pair bantered back and forth. This could go on
all evening.
“I’m not sure I even want to know how she keeps Rodolphus happy,” he declared.
“Our Lord doesn’t put the same demands on me or Gregory that he does on you
two. It’s easier to live a happy life at home when that is the case, I
suppose.”
“I’m sure it is,” Bellatrix mused wistfully and then gave voice to a wild
laugh. “I married who I was forced to marry, and I feel absolutely no need to
make him happy at home, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“It’s easier for men when it comes to an arranged marriage, I suppose. Narcissa
was chosen for me by my Father, so I married her,” Lucius admitted with a
gaelic shrug. “She gave me my son and heir, and that is really all I ever
expected of her.”
“Ah, the truth will out.” Bellatrix grinned wickedly. “How long has your
marriage bed lain cold? Since the conception of your son was confirmed? That
wouldn’t surprise me one bit. My sister is a cold and practical bitch, but
damned if I don’t love her all the same.” She cackled when Lucius’ face closed
down into an unreadable mask.
“Crazy bitch,” Lucius stated in a cold and emotionless voice. “Why would you
even care to know?”
“We are alike, Lucius, more alike than I ever knew. Our bodies may be married
to another but our hearts and souls belong only to Him.” Bellatrix glared at
the Malfoy patriarch. “Don’t even try to deny it.”
 
July_29th,_St._Mungo’s,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
“Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”
Conversation stopped and six pairs of eyes focused on the three cloaked and
hooded figures that currently stood blocking the doorway to the Mind Healer’s
office. Hermione frowned and then recognition drove the suspicion from her
eyes.
“Harry?!” She stood and practically leapt at the young man when she saw bright
green eyes through the shadows of the hood. Knocking his hood back in her zeal,
she basked in the deep sense of security she felt when his arms enfolded her in
a strong hug. “I missed you,” she whispered into his neck.
“I missed you, too, ‘Mione.” Harry enjoyed the closeness of their hug for a
long moment, then squeezed her gently and slowly let go. Smiling, he smoothed
away her tears and turned to catch Ginny when she did, indeed, leap at him with
a happy outcry. Laughing, he held the younger girl while she squeezed him
fiercely.
“Breathe…need to breathe, Gin…”
“Oh, Harry, you look so healthy!” Ginny declared and eased her grip, brown eyes
widening with surprise when she saw how much better he did look.
“Hi, Harry.” Luna smiled knowingly and relaxed into a hug that was interrupted
by Ron’s vigorous smack to his best mate’s back. She giggled. “Careful, Ronald.
He might return the favour.”
Ignoring Luna’s comment, Ron grinned at Harry.
“Harry, mate! It’s good to see you.” Ron beamed and gave the shorter teen a one
armed hug.
“It’s good to see you, too, Ron. How are you doing, Neville? You look like
you’re feeling better about things.” Harry smiled a greeting to the boy who
could have had his life and was suddenly not so upset by the way things had
turned out. He couldn’t wish his life on quiet, gentle Neville no matter how
often he might rail against what fate had done to him.
“I’m doing a lot better, Harry. The quiet one behind the desk is Healer Monroe,
by the way.” The up and coming Herbalist grinned when Hermione blushed over
their bad manners. “Who’d you bring? Bodyguards?”
“Privacy spell,” Harry requested seemingly out of the blue and waited until
Severus’ spell had settled over the room before he relaxed completely and
turned his full attention to Octavius. “Mind Healer Octavius Monroe, it’s a
pleasure to finally meet you after everything this rowdy crew has told me about
you.” Harry offered his hand in greeting. “My two shadows are Remus Lupin and
Severus Snape.” He shook the healer’s hand and grinned crookedly. “I’m Harry
Potter.”
“It truly is an honour, Mr. Potter. I was hoping you would be able to join us.”
Surprised by the teens grip, the Mind Healer blinked. “Please, have a seat
everyone. Will you be joining us as well, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Snape?”
“Why’s Professor Snape here with you, Harry?” Ron sounded resentful and the
look on his face confirmed it. “Hey, Professor Lupin.”
“You guys weren’t the only ones who had your minds tampered with,” Harry
commented, tone slightly chiding. “I have a feeling it was far more extensively
done for Remus and Severus.”
“Are you absolutely certain of this, Mr. Potter?” The young wizard now had his
undivided attention.
“Completely.” Harry smiled appreciatively when Remus conjured chairs for the
three of them. Settling in the comfortable seat, he focused most of his
attention on Octavius. “You were very intently focused while I was saying hello
to my friends. Did you observe anything useful?”
“Healer Monroe does that to us all the time,” Ginny commented. “He lets us talk
and tells us things we need to work on just from seeing how we act.”
“The most obvious thing that I was able to see is that you love your friends
dearly, Mr. Potter. I believe you would do almost anything, including
endangering yourself, to protect them. They have told me this about you, but
today I saw it in your eyes. I’m not sure what condition I would be in right
now if you had decided I was a threat to their well being.”
Surprised by the man’s very astute assessment of his intentions, Harry decided
he really needed to work on a ‘slytherin mask’ to keep other people from doing
the same. “Either you’re very observant or I’m easy to read,” Harry commented.
“I don’t think many people catch on to my expressions with that degree of
accuracy in such a short space of time.”
“I’m trained to read people, Mr. Potter and I can assure you that you are in no
way easy to read based solely on visual cues.” The younger man relaxed some and
Octavius let out the breath that he had been holding. He hadn’t felt so much
power contained in one individual in many years and it was nerve wracking to
think that the wielder of that power was a not-quite sixteen year old boy who
was about to go into his magical maturity.
“Moony, Professor Snape, this is a surprise.” Ginny grinned and whispered at
the older men in a conspiratorial tone so she wouldn’t interrupt the
conversation between Harry and the Mind Healer. “Especially since the Order is
out looking for Remus and Harry…”
“Ah, yes, that…” Remus chuckled. “We had to distract them somehow.”
“Indeed,” Severus drawled. “It is good to see all of you, as well, but if you
tell any of your little friends that I said that, I will deny it to my grave.”
He smirked. “Now, pay attention to Mr. Potter. He’s the attention seeking brat,
remember?”
“Sure I am.” Harry stuck his nose in the air and imitated Gilderoy Lockhart’s
tone of voice almost perfectly. “Who else would they pay attention to now that
I’m here?”
Octavius coughed and then started laughing. He hated Lockhart with a passion
and seeing this personable young man poking fun at him was too rich for words.
“Oh, bravo! If you were a blonde, I’d have been worried.”
Hermione waited until the general laughter spawned by that comment had died
down before speaking up again, her dark brown eyes full of concern for her best
friend.
“How are you really, Harry?” She met his gaze and silently demanded an honest
answer. He was ‘just caught the snitch from under Draco’s nose while the
slytherin prince watched’ happy and she couldn’t think of a reason for his mood
to be this high.
“Really?” Harry smiled warmly. “I’m feeling great right now and most of the
time I’m doing pretty well. It’s been rocky off and on for the last few weeks.
How about you guys?”
“Great, not a scripted ‘I’m fine’? Wow,” Neville teased. “I think we’re all
doing pretty close to great ourselves.”
“What he said,” Ron seconded.
“What’s your opinion, Healer Monroe?” Harry asked, tone inquisitive and
guileless.
Octavius arched an eyebrow at The Boy Who Lived and chuckled.
“There’s no need to play the ‘Gryffindor Golden Boy’, Mr. Potter. Yes, your
friends have told me of your reputation at school. In my expert opinion, they
are healing quickly. I am pleased to say that they will not be needing me for
very much longer.”
“That’s good news. So, can you tell me if I am still under any unwelcome
spells? I know that Ron explained the manifestation of my core to you.”
“Direct and to the point. Yes, I can check for all sorts of spells including
Obliviation, suppression and many more, but I need your permission to cast the
spell on you.”
“You have my permission,” Harry murmured and forced himself to relax when the
Mind Healer drew his wand.
Rising up out of his seat so that no one – namely Remus and Severus – could
mistake his intentions, Octavius cast the complex revealing spell and directed
his wand at the ever present stack of parchment on his desk.
“If I recall what Mr. Weasley told me, this could take a few minutes. Miss
Granger seems to be itching to ask you something.” The Healer grinned at the
exuberant young witch.
“What’s up ‘Mione? You look fit to burst,” Harry teased gently.
“Please don’t take this wrong because I am so glad to see you happy, but it
just keeps nagging at me and won’t let go. Why are you so…irrepressibly happy?
Even at the best of times, this just isn’t like you.” Hermione bit her lower
lip and tilted her head to one side as if to gauge his reaction.
“You really are the smartest witch of our age,” Harry complimented. “I haven’t
checked directly in case he’s up to something I don’t want to know about, but
when Tom is especially happy, it elevates my mood a good deal as well.”
“Does it affect your ability to get angry or upset?” Octavius asked in a
carefully neutral tone. He hadn’t realized the bond was this tight.
“Not really, no,” Harry mused. “My moods have always changed quickly and easily
and I haven’t noticed a change in that recently other than the fact that I have
a hell of a lot more to be pissed off about.” He turned and pinned the small
group of teens with his gaze. “Have you been practicing your Occlumency?”
“Yes, Slave Driver, we have,” Ginny replied tartly. “Some of us had doctor’s
orders, y’know.”
“Some but not all of you. I knew Hermione would dive into it the moment she got
the book I had been using, but I wasn’t sure if you were all studying,” Harry
commented.
“Of course we’re all studying,” Hermione replied in a tone that said she had
been pushing the issue with her usual fanatic devotion to learning. “Ginny and
I practice at night before we go to sleep and we all work on it when we can.”
“Only when you can?” Harry frowned.
“We study as a group as often as we can, you ninny!” Ginny laughed.
“Oh…” Harry shrugged and blushed a little. “Sorry.”
Delighted by the interactions between the six teens, Octavius shared a knowing
look with the other two adults before checking to see if the spell had run its
course.
“Let’s see what we have here…” Unable to hide his deepening frown, Octavius
looked through the small stack of parchment and was torn between horror and a
rapidly growing respect for Harry. “There is the residue of a recently failed
Obliviation. Were you aware of it?”
“I know who did it and when it occurred,” Harry replied and sank into a sudden,
almost unnatural stillness. “I will eventually discuss the event privately with
that person.”
“Ah, well, alright...” The Mind Healer swallowed carefully before continuing.
The young man’s shifting demeanour was keeping him off balance and it wasn’t a
sensation he was accustomed to feeling around a patient. “There are also the
ghost impressions of behavioural modification, heritage suppression, another
Obliviation that failed and there’s…” He looked up, only to find himself
captured by a pair of Avada Kedavra green eyes that resembled a snake’s with
their expression of cool indifference.
“There is a fully active soul bond that both of us are aware of,” Harry
murmured.
“Is this the curse bond that was intimated by your friends?”
“Yes, it is. What’s bothering you about it?” Harry sat up out of his slouched
posture and leaned forward, demeanour shifting again to a much more commanding
presence. “Tell me.”
Shocked by the power that laced those two words, Octavius relented to the
spoken and unspoken commands in Harry’s voice and told him everything instead
of the condensed version he had planned on using.
“Curse bonds are rare in the extreme and are notoriously known for being
unhealthy, damaging connections that can be quite painful for both parties…If I
had absolutely no background information on your case, I would have assumed you
had a twin.”
“You’re not going to assume I’m in love?” Harry asked bitterly. “Isn’t that
what most people assume about soul bonds? Most of what ‘Mione could find tended
to lean in that direction.”
“In most cases, a soul bond is indicative of intense emotion between two
individuals, most commonly love, but I meant exactly what I said originally,”
Octavius stated. “Twin bonds look different than a purely emotional bond. The
sharing is usually a great deal more intense and can include everything that
the pair does while not together physically.” He looked over the last parchment
more closely and then refocused on Harry. “Did something happen recently that
caused the bond to change?”
“He possessed me,” Harry replied in a very flat tone. “It stopped hurting right
after that. That threw me for a loop for a while since I hadn’t really been
aware of how much pain I’d been feeling since I was a toddler until it suddenly
disappeared.”
“And he pointed out the spells that bound you soon after that event, correct?”
“Yes. Why is that significant?”
“It’s possible that it was merely a defensive reaction. Weakness for one
weakens both in theory,” the Mind Healer replied. “He may also have
felt…stifled due to all of the bindings you were under. You couldn’t feel it
clearly enough to act because you had lived with it for years, so he took
action before it could become a mutual problem.”
“Fred and George have a really intense twin bond,” Ron interjected. “Mind Speak
and everything. You don’t talk to snake face, y’know, in your head like they
do…do you, mate?”
Harry smiled a secretive little smile and kept his mouth firmly shut.
“Why won’t you answer me?” Ron demanded.
“Because you really won’t like the answer and I don’t feel like fighting with
anyone today,” Harry replied matter of factly. “Just the idea of it is enough
to scare you, so why make it worse?”
“Oh, Harry…” Hermione knew him well enough to hear what he hadn’t said and to
understand that the answer to Ron’s question was yes. “You look rested. No bad
dreams?”
“No visions and no really bad nightmares.” The green eyed teen grinned
crookedly. “I’m a lot happier away from the Dursleys and Moony and Severus have
helped me through a lot already.”
“Speaking of…Mr. Lupin, Mr. Snape…Would you object to my casting the same
revealing spell on you gentlemen that I cast on Mr. Potter? If there are any
remaining spells, I may be able to help with the removal as well as any issues
that are bothering you due to the…intrusive nature of this person’s spell
casting. Assuming it is the same person, of course.” Octavius smiled a little.
“I would very much like to be able to work with the three of you like I have
had the pleasure of doing with Mr. Potter’s friends.”
“We are fairly certain that all of the casting was done by the same individual
and yes, it would probably be a good idea to have you do that, but I would
rather do it at another time.” Severus shrugged. “It’s nothing personal, but no
one really knows where Harry is right now, and I’d like to keep it that way…”
“You’re right, Severus. Harry?” Remus nudged the happily chatting teen. “I hate
to do this to you, but…”
“We need to go? I figured we wouldn’t be able to stay more than an hour or so.”
Harry hugged all three girls firmly and exchanged back slaps or one armed hugs
with Ron and Neville. “I’ll arrange for you guys to visit once my maturity is
over.” He turned to Octavius and grinned crookedly. “It was great meeting you.
Next time I’m here I’d like for you to take a look at a few things with me…I
hope it’ll help…”
“I’ll do everything I can, Mr. Potter. You three be careful and I will see you
again as soon as you are able.” The three men pulled up their hoods and slipped
out of his office as quietly as they had arrived. “Well, if that wasn’t
interesting, I don’t know what is…”
Hermione laughed a little and shook her head.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she promised.
 
July_29th,_Snape_Manor
 
Ducking under a severely overpowered wandless reducto before sidestepping a
stupefy that barely had enough ‘juice’ to make it to him, the Slytherin Head of
House snarled and stowed his wand in its wrist sheath with a graceful flick of
his wrist. He couldn’t tell if Harry was aware of his fluctuating power, but by
damn, he’d make sure he noticed before it got him hurt.
“What is your problem today, Potter?” Severus growled at the younger wizard.
“One spell will be strong enough to demolish a building and the next five are
barely strong enough to warrant my attention let alone a shield charm. If you
aren’t going to make an effort to concentrate, then I am not going to waste my
time!”
Narrowing his green eyes irritably, Harry snarled back and raised his wand to
cast. Before the words could even leave his mouth, his hand jerked and he let
out a sharp cry of pain as the smell of overly hot enamel and not quite burned
skin hit the noses of his mentors. More like tormentors,he growled silently and
immediately retracted the angry thought.
“Fucking hell! Ow, that hurt!” Shaking his hand, Harry glared down at the
slender red wand as if had deliberately done him harm. “The ruddy thing jerked
around in my hand and went red hot…it’s not damaged, is it?” The anger vanished
and concern flooded his voice as he realized that he might have forced himself
into finding another wand when he had just begun to truly enjoy how this one
felt. “I don’t want to have to get another wand…this one likes me and I like
it, too…”
“Cross that bridge when you get to it,” Remus urged and cast a mild healing
spell on his Cub’s hand. “It didn’t burn you too badly, but I’d say you need to
give the wand a rest for a while. It is a beauty and it would be a pity to
damage it beyond repair. Why don’t we work on your wandless magic instead?”
“Why did it jerk and get hot like that?” Harry looked from Remus to Severus and
back again, eyes full of a thousand questions. “What’s happening now?”
“Your magic is fluctuating badly,” Severus explained in a tone that was the
direct opposite of the one he had used only minutes prior. “I thought as much
but I wanted to be sure and provoking you seemed like the easiest way to test
out my theory.” He had the grace to look apologetic. “I did not anticipate such
a violent magical surge or I would have taken a different tact…”
“In other words, you decided to take a note from your potions classes and opted
to ‘motivate’ me to do better by telling me how awful I was doing?”
“That is not how I intended it…on the contrary,” Severus murmured with a barely
noticeable flinch; that comment had scored a direct hit whether he wanted to
admit it or not. “I wanted you to be aware of the fluctuations on a more
conscious level…but I chose a less than friendly way to point out the
problem...”
“Snarky bastard,” Harry grumbled and shoved the older man playfully. When he
staggered a little bit to one side, the teenager froze in surprised silence. “I
know I didn’t push that hard. Are you okay, Severus?”
“You pushed a lot harder than I think you realize and yes, I am quite alright,”
Severus replied with a small smile of his own. “I just wasn’t prepared for a
‘playful shove’ like Moony here used to do when he was younger…I suggest that
we stop all practical exercises related to magic and hand to hand training
until after your body has settled down from your Maturity. We can still study
potions and whatever theory you like, if that is acceptable to both of you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine with that.” Harry shook his head and picked up his wand with a
dejected sounding sigh. “Just when I was getting into the groove of really
duelling, too…”
“Cub…” Remus caught a mischievous look from Harry and burst out laughing. “Imp.
Stop playing the ham and try to be somewhat serious for a moment. How are you
feeling about all these changes that you’re going through? It’s been going on
for nearly a month now and I’m concerned that you’re not handling everything as
well as you appear to be doing.”
“I am handling everything as well as I can with what little information I have
on my…situation. The book that Dobby snatched from Malfoy’s library explained
about all kinds of blood heritages that might have led someone like Dumbledore
to use suppression charms on unsuspecting people…it went into great detail
about how some wizarding families have Elven, Veela, Vampire, Demon and even
Dragon bloodlines in their history and what the typical expression of traits
might be…This would all be a lot more helpful if I knew my own lineage.”
“What part of your lineage are you questioning, Harry?” Severus arched an
eyebrow at the younger wizard and smiled a little.
“All of it,” Harry stated bluntly. “I don’t know anything about my parent’s
bloodlines and it’s looking like Mom was a pureblood of the Evans wizarding
line, not the Muggle line. I don’t know what that means for me in terms of
inheritance or anything else. Sure, I’ve read up on the legal aspects but that
doesn’t explain anything about the magical aspect of it.” He eyed both men and
echoed Severus’ arched eyebrow.
“I understand that Mom did something…that you all did something to protect me,
but I still don’t know what that was.”
“Look, Cub, we can pull out the Pensive and show you the ritual and try to
explain everything in depth now if you like. Personally, I’d rather not find
out what would happen to all three of us if something caused an emotionally
driven bout of accidental magic while we were in the spell the Pensive uses…”
Remus trailed off and shook himself before conjuring seating for the three of
them. “We can give you the basic overview for now, though, if that’s all right
with you?”
Deciding that Remus might have a very painfully valid point, Harry nodded and
let that point go. As much as he wanted to know everything, now might not be
the best time.
“That’s fine. I wouldn’t want to find out what would happen in that situation
either. You promise to tell me everything once I’ve settled down after my
maturity, though, right?”
“Absolutely, Cub. You have a right to know, but your magic is so volatile right
now…” Remus sighed.
“I understand, Moony.” Harry grinned weakly and gestured for them to continue.
Severus caught Remus’ eye and waited until they were all settled before
speaking up.
“Your parents received a ritual from Albus shortly after they were told about
the prophecy. Lily researched it and did not like what she found, so she found
a ritual that she believed would protect all of us, and you above all.
Unfortunately, even then, things that involved you rarely went according to
plan…”
“We set out to perform the ritual that Lily chose and wound up doing something
else entirely,” Remus stated as calmly as he could, amber eyes bright with the
memory of how powerful the ‘guiding’ entity had felt as it moved through them
and bound them to a fate that he was still occasionally uncertain of.
“Something interfered with the ritual and changed it…you’ll understand when you
see our memories of it in the Pensive.”
“What sort of something?” Harry sat forward eagerly.
“Hecate,” Severus replied with a smirk. “Not being the sort to worship the old
gods and goddesses, I’m not sure how much I agree with that assessment. Lily
believed it, however, and I wasn’t about to argue with her…” He grinned at
Remus and the two shared a nostalgic moment.
“In other words, I inherited my temper and stubbornness honestly?” Harry
grinned wickedly. He tended to soak up every tiny bit of information he could
get on his parents and this was even better than usual because he had a slow
but steady flow of nostalgic interactions to watch and memories to squirrel
away.
“That’s one way of putting it. So, this ritual bound your parents, Sirius,
Severus and myself to you in such a way that…well, to me it translated out to
‘pack’, and I guess for the rest of us it equalled out to family.” Remus smiled
warmly.
“So, could I have inherited traits from the Black, Snape, Evans, Lupin and
Potter lines?”
“That is possible, but we don’t know for sure. James had quick reflexes but
nothing like yours, so it is looking like you may have gotten heightened
reflexes, speed and possibly strength from me. You could think of it as having
the benefits of being a werewolf without the curse, I suppose.” Remus shrugged
and ruffled Harry’s hair playfully.
“Add Prince to your list,” Severus commented. “She was the last child of the
Prince line, minor though it was. I don’t know if there were any gifts or
anything to be inherited, but it can’t hurt to consider the possibility.”
“Okay…what about Sirius? Some of the other Gryffs are always joking about how
this supposedly pureblood family or another needs to look a little closer at
their woodpile for creature blood.” Harry tilted his head to one side and
grinned wickedly.
“I’m convinced that the Malfoy’s are part Veela. I mean, look at them. White
blonde hair like Fleur and the Veela that were at the World Cup, silver to
grey-blue eyes…there has to be Veela in there somewhere. According to the book,
male descendents mostly act as carriers for the Veela bloodlines, but it
glossed over what the not so mostly part was. I’m guessing it’s possible that,
if Draco lives long enough to have a daughter, she could manifest like a pure-
blooded Veela.”
“Assuming you are correct, that is possible,” Severus mused. “I can’t fault
your logic. It is something many of us wondered about for years and Lucius is
very careful to steer the conversation away to other things when someone is
bold enough to ask outright.”
“What did you find out about the other non-human bloodlines?” Remus could
contain his curiosity no longer. Harry had been rather possessive of that
particular book and he wanted to know what the hell was in it! “Tell me since
you won’t let me borrow it…”
“Well, vampire descendents tend to have an affinity for necromancy and the
dead, or so the book says. They also tend to be harder to turn into a vampire
for some reason,” the green eyed teen mused. “There isn’t much beyond
supposition on the old blood Elves. It’s mostly a debate on whether or not they
were real or are just a myth. The demon stuff is pretty scary, actually. It
starts out tamely enough with the children of Incubi and Succubi and keeps
getting worse and worse…” He shuddered and rubbed his arms. “I stopped when I
read about the case where the spawn of a Balrog ate its way out of the Mother
and proceeded to destroy the house…that was pretty gruesome.”
Severus blinked and shook his head. What sort of books had Lucius been hiding
from him for all of these years?
“And your elf managed to take this book from the Malfoy library? Something like
this would be very well hidden normally. I don’t see the Ministry liking the
subject matter…”
“That’s where he said he got it. You were there when he dropped it in my lap.”
Harry frowned and tried to remember what the book had said about dragons.
“Dobby…”
Popping in, the elf grinned at the two older wizards and sat the book in
question on Harry’s lap.
“Here is yous book, Master Harry. It is helping yous?”
“It has helped, yes. Once I know what kind of inheritances to look out for, it
will help even more. Thanks Dobby.”
“Yous is being welcome. Dobby will bring tea and snacks soon.”
Bemused by the his elf’s intense awareness of his needs, Harry just sat and
stared at the book for a long moment before picking it up and flipping back to
the section on Dragons.
“Ah, here it is,” he murmured and began to read from the page he had settled
upon. “Dragons of old, better known as Greater Dragons, were extremely powerful
and intelligent beings that took a great deal of satisfaction out of their
interactions with other species, not the least of which was human wizards and
witches. Greater Dragons were believed to be capable of such intricate feats of
shape shifting that they could pass themselves off as human.”
“That is simply the most terrifying thought I have contemplated in a very long
time,” Severus mused, shuddered visibly and gestured for one very amused
teenager to keep reading.
“Dirty old man,” Harry quipped cheerfully and ignored Severus’ flustered blush
for the page in front of him. He’d let Remus tease the potions master about it
later on. “Where was I? Oh, yeah…children born of these matings tended towards
a much more fey and wild-spirited bent, but it was only with long term dilution
of the blood that the discovery of many distinct traits became possible. These
traits include species specific elemental affinities, immunities against
various poisons and environmental threats like extreme heat or cold, a natural
affinity with flight, partial racial memory and the inherited ability to speak
with lesser and Greater serpents.”
“Oh Merlin…I really want to read that book…c’mon, Cub…don’t be so mean…” Remus
actually uttered a very wolfish sounding whine and Severus grinned at the
werewolf, a fact that did not go unnoticed by said wizard. “Alright, I won’t
tease you if you don’t tease me.”
“Deal,” Severus agreed happily. “So you could be a many, many times removed
descendent of some species of Dragon. Lucky you.”
“Uh huh. Sure. You just keep thinking those happy thoughts,” Harry grumbled.
“I’m not part dragon or anything like that. Besides, it says that Dragon, Old
Elven and Demon children usually don’t manifest signs until they’re between the
ages of seventeen and twenty-five and even that depends on finding out which
species is hiding out in your lineage.”
“That is something that we will find out for sure once we can get you to
Gringotts. They have a potion that is very accurate for determining lines of
inheritance.” Severus sounded very much like he would consider murdering
someone to get a hold of either a sample of the potion or the recipe so he
could figure out how it works. “The goblins may have some other useful
information for you as well.”
“Well, that’s good to know, but it doesn’t help me right now,” Harry
complained.
“Actually, Cub, its better that you don’t know what your full lineage is.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, for starters, you’re less likely to be upset if something doesn’t show
up,” Remus reasoned. “And you won’t be as likely to make more of something that
isn’t anything important…”
Subsiding abruptly, Harry sighed. He couldn’t argue with that despite the major
part of him that wanted to do exactly that.
“Yeah, you’re right, but it’s going to drive me a little crazy now that I know
there may be more there than anticipated. Who would blame me? I pretty much
have one mom and four dads magically speaking…”
“Great Merlin, save me,” Severus whispered. “And to think, I didn’t even get to
properly enjoy the experience that led to your being…”
“Dirty old man…” Harry stuck his tongue out at Severus.
“Insufferable brat.”
“Immature sods, the both of you,” Remus stated. “Don’t you have potions to work
on or something like that, Severus?”
“I do and I believe I am expecting Harry to join me after his third lunch.”
Severus nodded to Harry and smirked at the not so thrilled look on the younger
man’s face. “I want to make sure he really has learned something from Salazar.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be down as soon as Dobby thinks I’ve had enough to keep me
going for an hour or so. You know he’ll pop in an hour after I get down there
to feed me again, so don’t get mad at him, okay.”
“I am expecting exactly that,” Severus replied. “I will see you in the lab.”
 
Watching the graceful and very well practiced way that Severus moved while he
worked on his potions, Harry sighed and walked into the lab with Salazar’s
potions journal cradled against his chest like the treasure that it was.
“Severus?”
“Come on in, Harry. I will be done with this potion very shortly and then we
can begin.”
“That’s a pain relieving potion, isn’t it?” Harry wandered closer and peered
into the cauldron. “It’s a non-drowsy one, too. I’ve taken enough of both that
I should know by now.”
“Very good eye,” Severus complimented. “The colour difference is fairly subtle
and most people don’t pay that much attention to what they’re taking to know
the difference.”
“I’m in pain more often than I care to think about and I’m a tad bit too
paranoid to not pay attention to what I’m being given.”
“I don’t blame you.” Severus kept darting glances at the large tome in Harry’s
arms. “Is that really one of Salazar’s journals or are you just having me on?”
“Oh, it was his alright. I was hoping that we could try out a few of his
potions today if the ingredients are available.” Harry had one in particular
that he needed Severus’ help on and this was the perfect way to get that help
without a lot of fuss.
Taking his potion off of the flame and casting a stasis charm on it, Severus
stretched and gave his entire attention to Harry.
“That sounds like an excellent idea. Which potions did you have in mind?” He
accepted a stack of parchment from his apprentice for the day and blinked at
the page that was covered in a small, neat handwriting that was completely
unlike Harry’s usual scrawl. “You wrote this?”
“I can be quite neat, but I found out that messy handwriting annoyed you, so I
took advantage of the opportunity.” The teen grinned wickedly at his speechless
companion. “It worked quite well as a method of venting my frustration over
your attitude towards me.”
The pure passive aggressive nature of Harry’s retaliation was such a Slytherin
thing to do that Severus wasn’t sure how to respond. He studies the green eyed
teen briefly, shook his head and went back to reading through the parchments
with a growing sense of awe as it sank in exactly what Harry had given him.
“These are Salazar’s research notes…”
“Yes, they are. Keep reading and you’ll see why I want to work on that
particular potion. It’s not the only one I translated out for you, by the way.”
Still grinning, Harry relaxed and waited for the potions master to finish
skimming through.
“The handwriting thing was a very Slytherin thing to do, by the way,” Severus
mused. “I never would have had any idea that you did it deliberately if you
hadn’t told me.”
“Yeah, well, the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin as a first choice. It said I
would have been great in there.”
“Why did you end up in Gryffindor if Slytherin was its first choice?”
“I told the Hat ‘not Slytherin, not Slytherin’ and it let me go to my friends
in Gryffindor. Draco made a very bad first impression on me and everyone kept
telling me that only Dark wizards go to Slytherin. I know better now, but at
eleven, I was still very impressionable and Hagrid and Ron’s opinions coloured
my own a lot.”
“I’m impressed you got the damn thing to do what you asked,” Severus mused.
“This is a form of the Wolfsbane potion…a much more complicated form of it.”
“I think it was for a friend of Salazar’s names Argus, a lycanthrope of some
kind,” Harry interjected. “Argus isn’t mentioned all that frequently, but
enough for me to the idea that he was definitely a close friend, and not merely
an acquaintance and I don’t think he was a werewolf.”
“Werewolves are the only kind of lycanthrope there is,” Severus protested.
“I don’t think so. According to the Ministry, yes, they’re the only ones, but
Sal used the parseltongue word //Suasurusha// which basically means ‘Great Cat’
when he referred to Argus. He never once used //Surbasra//, or ‘Man Wolf’.
There may not be any others now, but this was a thousand years ago, so who
knows…”
“This potion might not work for Remus then…”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it? The Chamomile and Echinacea would help aid in
calming and healing if you only work that in to your formula…”
“We’ll try it, Harry, but not a word to Remus until we have a stable potion. I
refuse to get his hopes up about a better option until we have one to offer.”
Severus fixed the teen with a stern glare and was met with a similar gaze in
reply.
“Yes, Severus, I know that. I’m not insensitive, y’know.”
“I’m sorry. I know you aren’t insensitive or stupid enough to do something that
would hurt Remus like that.” Severus sighed. “I just can’t bear the thought of
telling him about what you found and then having it not work…”
“We’ll try and hope for the best.” Harry sighed. “So, what should we make until
you’re ready to give that one a trial run?”
 
Later that same evening…
 
“Moony, Severus? Can I talk to you two? It’s important.” Harry fidgeted
nervously in the doorway until they gestured for him to join them in front of
the fire. Conjuring a chair without much thought, he sank down into it and
frowned at the cheerfully crackling fire. Oblivious to the curious looks they
shot at each other, he sighed loudly.
“Come on in and have a seat, Harry. You look like something is bothering you,”
Severus observed, one eyebrow rising sharply over the teen’s nearly perfect
wandless and wordless conjuration. He glanced at Remus before refocusing
entirely on Harry for now.
“It will probably be easier to just spit it out, Cub. We can discuss it once we
know what the problem is, okay?” Remus didn’t like the uncertainty that was
radiating off the younger wizard. It was almost as if he expected to be hit for
what he had to say. “It will be okay no matter what this is about.”
“You can say that when you don’t know what’s bothering me,” Harry stated
forlornly, green eyes dark. “The first important thing is there’s going to be a
Revel tonight. That’s why my mood was so high earlier…Tom was projecting and
now that I’ve had time to think about it…” He shuddered almost violently. “All
I got was a quick ‘busy, can’t talk, Revel tonight’ and a ‘don’t choose tonight
to be curious’ warning almost as an afterthought…I guess Tom doesn’t know that
I’ve seen more than one Revel already…part of me still gets sick thinking about
it, but the rest of me wonders if I’ll miss out on the power surge if I’m not
watching…”
Severus paled noticeably upon hearing the teenager’s wistful, uncertain tone
regarding the subject. He stared at Harry with very mixed emotions of his own
while waiting for his brain to have a chance to kick back into gear. This kind
of internal conflict could go either way and it was up to himself and Remus to
keep the balance tipped towards feeling sick instead of curious enough to
investigate. No pressure there, he groused privately.
“How many Revels have you seen?” Remus didn’t like how upset Severus and Harry
were becoming and couldn’t think of a way to easily diffuse the situation
either.
“I’ve seen several,” Harry murmured quietly. “Last year…they’re excessively
brutal, pretty much nothing but an insane display of sadism and lust, but the
power…the power rush is wonderful…” The teen shivered a little, an action that
was echoed unconsciously by Severus. Harry looked right at the older man and
they shared a moment of nearly perfect understanding.
“You know how good it feels, Severus. Tom may not have realized that our bond
was that open even then, but I’m pretty sure I got nearly as much of a rush off
of it as he did…certainly more than the Death Eaters…”
“We had two Revels last year,” the potions master whispered. “You…were there
for both of them?” He looked like he might throw up.
“I saw what happened, what you and everyone there did.” Harry rubbed his arms
nervously. “I’m not saying I agree with any of Tom’s methods, but once that
high hits…I can’t be sure that I wouldn’t have been as bad as anyone there at
that point…”
Remus studied both of their faces and swallowed convulsively. He definitely did
not like the idea of this Revel happening so close to Harry’s maturity,
especially if it involved a power transfer of any kind. Something of that
nature could trigger an early awakening.
“I can’t think of anything that could possibly feel good enough to make you
lose control of your morals like that…”
“Never say never until you’ve been there,” Severus replied, pale face still a
little green around the edges. “I can’t even deny my actions.” He nodded in
Harry’s direction. “He has seen me at my absolute worst.”
“I’ve seen Tom and nearly every Death Eater at their worst,” Harry mused. “It
still disturbs me, but I’ve seen so much of it that I guess I’ve developed
emotional calluses or something.”
“Emotional calluses? Sweet Merlin, I hope not,” Remus replied. “I can see that
happening, but I kind of hope they’re not as thick as they were before you went
in and tore so many layers out.”
“Yeah, well, if it’s all the same to you guys, I think I’d rather be alone
until after the Revel is over, but I know I shouldn’t be…I don’t know if I’ll
get a power surge since we’re both more consciously aware of our bond, but I’d
rather not find out by destroying something accidentally…” Harry sighed and
shook his head. He really didn’t feel like talking about the Revel anymore.
Talking about it made it more real and he needed it to go back to the realm of
distant memory.
“Let’s drop that for now, shall we…there’s something else I’d like to talk to
you two about. It’s something I’ve been thinking about quite a bit lately and
I’d like to hear what you think about it.”
Hearing that tired, almost overly intense tone, both men groaned under their
breath. Remus focused on the painfully nervous younger wizard and braced
himself for their second difficult conversation of the night. At this point, he
wasn’t sure there was any way to make everything less difficult given what had
passed for an upbringing in his Cub’s formative years.
“What’s on your mind, Cub?”
“Who exactlyisHarry Potter?” The teenager tilted his head to one side and
arched an eyebrow inquisitively, his green eyes begging for and demanding
answers in equal measure. He stood abruptly and began to pace with restless
energy.
“Is Harry Potter the boy that everyone knew prior to the possession, the bold
and brash, accommodating and naive Gryffindor Golden Boy? Is he this darker
person I feel myself becoming? Are a lot of the things I’m worried about being
brought on by my maturity and the sheer hell of being a teenager? I flat out
don’t know who I am anymore and it scares the hell out of me!”
“I wish I could offer better advice, but honestly, I find myself with very
similar questions.” Severus kept his tone as even and calm as he could to –
hopefully – help keep the teen from becoming any more agitated than he already
was. “I was only in my early twenties when Albus decided to start thinking for
me…it’s been almost fifteen years since I was freely myself and I am still
trying to figure it all out.”
Severus grinned wryly at Harry and shrugged unhappily. “I don’t have a looming
magical maturity and the hormones of a sixteen year old boy to deal with, thank
Merlin, but I do understand at least part of what you’re going through.”
“Exactly,” Remus agreed. “I think you wouldn’t be dealing with this sensation
of split selves if Albus had just left you alone, but that was clearly too much
to ask for. As it is, your constant proximity to Tom was bound to make you a
bit darker, and the enforced behaviours have are making you doubt everything
you thought you were…this is, sadly enough, something that we can help you work
through, but only you have the answers to your questions about your self.”
Deflating abruptly, Harry dropped back down into his chair and gave voice to a
pained sounding groan.
“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say…”
 
Warning!!! The following scene contains potentially offensive imagery.
 
July_29th,_Unplottable_Location
 
Lounged on his throne with a loose limbed, lazy grace that belied his eagerness
for the night’s festivities, Voldemort seemed all the more intimidating for his
cold, unfazed exterior.
“Wormtail,” he commanded quietly.
“Yes, Master,” Peter murmured and offered up his left arm the moment the Dark
Lord’s hand began to reach down to him. Excruciating pain erupted throughout
his body and he fought to swallow all but the smallest of whimpers; the pain
ended as abruptly as it had begun and the sound of apparition filled the large
audience chamber.
 
Rising to his feet, Voldemort spread his arms in a magnanimous greeting and
waited until all of his gathered followers were kneeling at his feet before
speaking.
“Welcome my loyal Death Eaters! Tonight we are rejoined by my complete Inner
Circle and we welcome another twenty initiates to our ranks. Remember your own
beginnings during this ceremony, for there is a Revel to follow!”
 
The large double doors at the back of the room swung open and banged against
the walls with a resounding sound that reverberated through the room
dramatically and there, framed in the large opening, stood two columns of six
finely robed, silver masked Death Eaters. Between the Inner Circle members were
three columns of initiates in their simple robes and plain white masks.
Marching forward in a swirl of robes, the twelve fanned out to stand to the
sides of Voldemort’s throne like the spread wings of a gigantic bird of prey
and the twenty initiates filed forward to present themselves in three rows
before the Dark Lord. As if responding to some silent cue, they all went to
their knees before him and waited with bowed heads.
Pleased by the precision and overall assurance of the initiate’s actions,
Voldemort stood to loom over them, his crimson gaze studying the kneeling ones
like a dark god deciding if he would accept or decline an offering he had found
left on the altar of his temple.
“Before I welcome you into my service, you must understand that the Dark Mark
is a magical oath that will bind you to serve me and my cause of ridding the
Wizarding world of those who are unworthy of the magic they wield, those whose
impure blood has led our society to the despicable level it is now at.”
Voldemort paused, crimson gaze bright and chillingly cold as it passed over the
ranks of kneeling Death Eaters and Initiates. “Back out now and your release
into death will be quick. Betray me once the Mark is done and I will leave you
begging for a mercy that is painfully slow to answer.”
The majority of the soon-to-be Death Eaters shifted nervously, but a scarce few
remained resolute and Voldemort was pleased. These few might prove to be the
replacements he needed for those Inner Circle members who had grown weak and
unreliable.
“You will now prove your willingness to follow my orders and your ability to do
what must be done to cleanse our world.” Looking on as each man came forward
and proved that they were willing and did indeed have what it would take,
Voldemort smiled privately as the screams of pain and pleas for mercy washed
over him like the most perfect of musical notes that dropped into sudden
silence with the confidently spoken Avada Kedavra of one of the Aurors who had
chosen to join him.
Several of the initiates had demonstrated a creative cruelty that proved
exactly why they had found themselves locked away in Azkaban and he noted those
who took true pleasure in their ‘work’ while automatically assigning them to
raiding parties in the back of his mind. Making other plans for those who had
shown more restraint, he smirked and rose to loom over them yet again.
“You have proven yourselves to be quite capable, but now is the time to prove
your worth. Come forward to accept my Mark without flinch or cry, my newest
Death Eaters. Come forward to be welcomed.”
Gesturing for the newly Marked Death Eaters to join the rank and file of his
lesser followers, Voldemort stalked down from his raised dais and came to a
stop on the centremost rune of an intricately carved ritual circle.
Excitement stirred through the ranks of the more seasoned Death Eaters and the
Inner Circle shifted with eager anticipation. Their excitement quickly spread
to even the newest of the recruits when thirteen naked wizards and witches
walked into the room, their faces blank with the tell tale effects of the
Imperious curse.
Looking into the vacant eyes of each sacrifice as they moved to circle him,
Voldemort smirked maliciously and let his aura flare to life around him in a
visible display of power that deepened his hold on the thirteen and dropped
them to their knees the moment he wished it to happen.
Drawing a slender silver blade from somewhere in his robes, he sliced his palm
and moved with serpentine grace from sacrifice to sacrifice as he marked them
on their brow and chest with his blood. Returning to his place in the center of
the circle, he gestured sharply at the floor to splatter his blood on the rune
at his feet and the circle flared to life with a rush of power that drew gasps
from the surrounding Death Eaters.
All thirteen victims stiffened visibly when the circle closed around them and
Voldemort released his hold on their minds. Beginning the first part of the
ritual, he savoured their struggles and braced himself for the surge of power.
“Vox illae vitualamen est vehementer captus, reus ut meus vox quod per mihi
illis quisnam es fidelis volo! Ego excito vestri vox quod edo is!”
The rune Eihwaz formed on the foreheads of his victims, marking them as his,
and Voldemort spread his arms wide as he cried out the last syllables and the
men and women circling him arched violently and screamed and shrieked as their
magic was forcibly ripped from their cores and devoured by the creature that
stood in the center of the maelstrom.
Holding the lion’s share of the power close, Voldemort rode the energizing,
euphoric rush and threw the rest out through the Mark into his followers who
cried out their ecstasy and writhed in a haze of lust and seemingly god-like
power. Basking in the pleasure he and his followers were feeling the Dark Lord
felt every doubt and misgiving fade under the burning need to feel this
sensation again and again. Splattering more of his own blood on the central
rune, Voldemort began the second chant that would bind the souls of his
sacrifices to the ritual room’s power nodes.
“Ego redimio cruor quod phasmatis of meus vitualamen ut is locus of vox pro
totus vicis! Per meus cruor ut vestri ego excito vestri phasmatis!”
Every carefully enunciated word carved four runes deeper and deeper into the
chests of the thirteen sacrificial lambs until their blood flowed in a torrent
over the floor, soaking Voldemort’s feet as they bled out violently. Feeling
their impending deaths, the crimson eyes wizard drew a complex rune in the air
and cackled madly when the power levels reached a breathtaking crescendo as the
thirteen died simultaneously, leaving him surrounded by the glowing silvery
mist that was all that remained of the men and women who had shuffled into the
room under his Imperious.
“Is solemnitas of vox suscipio per is, meus vitualamen viscus quod patientia!”
The blood on the floor absorbed rapidly into the stone and the thirteen
swirling forms circled Voldemort once before darting off to be absorbed into
the major node runes that supported the ritual room’s power. Sparing barely a
glance for the now desiccated husks that surrounded him, panting softly as the
dark sensuality of the ritual he had just performed wormed its way past his
usual cold reserve, Voldemort repeated the final phrase of the ritual and
soaked up the ecstatic cries of his followers.
“Is solemnitas of vox suscipio per is, meus vitualamen viscus quod patientia!”
 
Voldemort returned to his throne and settled in to watch as the initial group
of previously invisible prisoners came into view with a wave of his hand and
his Death Eaters descended upon them like wolves. The first screams pierced the
relative quiet of the large room and sent a shudder of arousal through his
body, causing him to hiss his pleasure.
Observing Voldemort for a few minutes, Lucius was relieved to note that his
Lord’s mood still appeared to be very high. Separating himself from the pack,
Lucius crawled forward on his hands and knees to lay himself at the Dark Lord’s
feet with the memory of the first time he had given himself up so completely
playing through his mind. After nearly fifteen years of utter and complete
freedom, he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to give him self up to that level
of servitude again but if the Dark Lord chose to master him fully there would
be no fighting what he himself had offered the domineering man.
“Master…”
Voldemort tasted the utter submission that flavoured Lucius’ scent before he
was even aware of the noble’s presence at his feet. Looking away from the rape
and torture he had been so thoroughly engrossed in watching, he groaned his
pleasure at seeing Lucius offering himself so freely at his feet. It had been
many years since Lucius had done this and he had almost forgotten how much he
loved to debauch and demean the proud and haughty Malfoy patriarch.
“Do you think to throw yourself at my feet now to avoid the punishment you have
properly earned, Lucius?”
“No, Master…please…I can’t bear it any longer…please…” At a loss for words,
uncertain of how to ask for what his body and psyche had been craving for
fifteen years, Lucius nearly wept from his frustration. “I Need…”
“You need to be broken and remade into whatever I desire you to be, my Silver
Fox? You need to be used by someone who knows how to make you feel alive?”
Voldemort shifted restlessly as his own desire surged accordingly. “You want me
to hurt you, don’t you, Luciussss.”
“Yes, my Master,” Lucius moaned and pressed his body up against Voldemort’s
legs like a large cat, his silver eyes luminous in the dimly lit room. “All of
that and more…it’s been so long since I felt anything real…”
“Then pleasure me, my pet, and remind me why male Veela descendents are such a
jealously coveted breed,” Voldemort commanded and shifted to make room for
Lucius between his knees. The beautiful man pulled his robe open and Voldemort
threw his head back and groaned deep in his chest before mastering his own
responses and letting his fractured attention shift focus between the pleasures
offered by the blonde that was working his length with such slavish devotion
and the writhing mass of animalistic debauchery that was taking place in front
of him.
“Such a hot mouth…that’s a good pet,” he groaned and rocked with the rhythm of
the blonde’s movements. Lowering one hand, he fisted it in the hair at the
tender nape of his favourite catamite’s neck and tightened his grip until the
blonde whimpered from the pain of his punishing hold.
Ears filled with the screams and grunting groans of the Revel taking place at
his back and the lower, hissed sounds of his master’s pleasure, Lucius Malfoy
lost himself in the consuming, instinct driven Need that had led him to this
very position when he was barely sixteen years old. He whimpered at the painful
grip his Master had taken on the hair at his nape, and that was all the warning
he received before the searing burn of a playfully whispered ‘crucio’ lit his
nerves on fire with a pain that threatened to overwhelm the pleasure of having
his master use him again.
He screamed around the flesh that filled his mouth because he knew to do
anything else would mean his death if he was lucky and far worse if not. That
same hardness that he had been so eagerly fellating now forced itself deeper,
thrusting into him with bruising force and his renewed pleasure twisted itself
up into knots around the agony until he couldn’t tell where one sensation ended
and the other began.
Part of him struggled to reject the punishing abuse he was being made to
endure, but the less human majority welcomed it with an undeniable eagerness
that drowned out his weakening protests. Overwhelmed by the long denied call of
his blood and the seductively pulsing power of the Revel, he surrendered to his
Lord’s possession of his body.
Keenly aware of the exact moment when Lucius’ human side stopped struggling
against the Veela, Voldemort pressed his advantage and used his mouth even more
brutally, the hands that clawed at his hips and thighs adding the spice of pain
that he needed to push his own pleasure over the edge into release. Riding the
waves of pleasure, part of his mind searched for any resistance on the part of
the younger male and assured him of his complete submission even as he felt the
blonde spasm and shudder in his grip, then go pliant and cat-like in the
afterglow of his orgasm.
“That’s my pet,” he hissed playfully and urged him onto his lap, crimson gaze
roaming over the bloody and ruined bodies of the first round of victims while
he prepared to stake his own claim on one who had once belonged solely to him.
This time, he would make certain that nothing and no one could shake his
control of the slowly writhing, wanton creature he held on his lap.
Losing himself in the pleasures offered by Lucius’ surrender to him, Voldemort
caught only the briefest glimpses of the debauchery and depravity that was
going on around him. Gaze focusing aimlessly, he let those snapshots of cruelty
feed his own pleasure as the energies of pain, sex and death continued to fuel
the power of the ritual that was this Dark Revel.
He blinked and focused on Wormtail as the small man caught a young, barely
pubescent girl by the throat with his silver hand and proceeded to beat her
until she hung limply in his grip and cried piteously for him to let her go.
Throwing the weeping girl-child to the floor, he laughed and bared the evidence
of his obvious excitement.
Seeing her attacker in such a state, knowing what he intended to do after
having seen the same done to her own mother, the girl tried to scramble away
and Wormtail fell upon her like the rat he was. Biting and clawing at delicate
pale skin, he forced her legs apart and thrust himself into her, every movement
of his body punctuated by shrill screams of pain and terror.
The eager body impaled on Voldemort’s lap jerked his attention away from his
current voyeuristic fascination with a particularly skilful movement that left
him gasping for more. He hissed at the blonde and renewed his own attack on
fine, pale flesh.
Distracted from his use of Lucius’ body once more, this time by a new kind of
scream, Voldemort focused on one of the younger Aurors. The man had a sharply
glittering blade in each hand and was taking his victim apart in a manner
eerily reminiscent of the stories he’d heard of a ‘Jack the Ripper’…the sight
of so much blood and suffering excited him further and he focused on his lover
with renewed vigour until the early hours of the morning left the Death Eaters
with no more victims to torment.
Lassitude set in and the room slowly emptied as the revellers drifted away to
find a place to sleep off the drunken state they now found themselves in.
 
End of naughtiness…
 
July_30th,_The_Burrow,_Neville’s_Birthday_Part_I
 
Molly Weasley bustled around the kitchen at the Burrow and shuttled heavily
laden dishes to the table and the farthest parts of the counter in what
appeared to be a mad rush to complete a last minute meal, but were in reality
just her usual method of cooking when she knew there was going to be a party.
“Ronald! George! Fred! Get the tables set up so the girls can set out the
silverware and everything else that needs to go out!”
The stairs rumbled under the assault of three stampeding young men and Molly
groaned under her breath even as she smiled happily at her boys. They tore
outside through the partially open door and the plump woman winced when it
banged sharply against the outer wall and slammed shut as a result of their
exuberance.
“Were we ever like that, Arthur, dear? I honestly don’t think we were…but if
not, where did they get it from?” She laughed at her husband’s overly innocent
expression and in him could see an older echo of her fun loving boys. “Alright,
alright, they come by it rightly, but for Merlin’s sake, do they have to take
it out on the house?”
Joining Molly in a good laugh, Arthur shook his head and sighed happily. With
everything that had gone so badly over the last week or so, it felt good to
have something worth smiling and laughing over.
“How about I go out and supervise so the tables get set up with a minimum of
battles,” he offered and rose to go to his wife’s side. “Don’t worry, Love.
We’ll get to do this for Harry soon. You’ll see. Remus wouldn’t let any harm
come to Harry and you know it.”
“But it’s my job to worry, Arthur. That poor boy has never known a mother’s
love except what little I’m allowed to give him. I will worry until I get to
hug the stuffing out of him myself.” Molly swiped at her face to catch the
tears in case the children came in unexpectedly. “Go try to keep them out of
trouble, dear. Neville and Augusta will be here soon and I’d like things to be
in some sort of order by then.”
“As my lady commands,” Arthur teased and vanished out the door in a much more
sedate manner than his sons had used.
 
“Neville! Happy Birthday!” Ginny leapt at the laughing boy much like she had
done Harry the day before and hugged him fiercely when he did exactly what she
expected and caught her in his arms. Letting go once he started laughing even
more, she smiled at Augusta and held out her hand. “Welcome to the Burrow, Mrs.
Longbottom. Mom’s just finishing up the food, but I can show you inside to a
comfortable place to sit while we all get everything set up.”
“I know the way, Ginevra. Make sure my grandson stays out of trouble and I’ll
go find your parents.” Augusta smiled a little and shook her head as she
wandered towards the house. When had all of these children grown up into these
young adults?
“Molly, Arthur?”
“Augusta? I’m in the kitchen,” Molly called back. “Arthur’s outside keeping the
twins in line. Have a seat and tell me how you’ve been doing.” Setting a cup of
tea in front of the older witch, Molly smiled and sat down with a cup of her
own. “Your Neville seems to be doing so much better…”
“I must admit that I had my reservations about this Mind Healer Monroe, but he
has done more for Neville than the dozen healers before him,” Augusta admitted
reluctantly and sighed when she sipped at her tea. “He is so much like Frank
was at this age and that terrifies me, Molly. I am so afraid I am going to lose
him to this war like I lost Frank to the last one…”
It was Molly’s turn to drink some tea and sigh unhappily. This was a subject
that weighed on her heart like a constant spectre and she felt helpless to do
anything about it.
“We all lost dear ones to the last war,” she murmured, voice tight. “My Ronald
and Ginny have already been hurt by this one and they will be amongst those
that fight…all of my babies will try to fight in this war…I can feel it and I
don’t know how to stop it, or if I should even try…”
Hearing someone else voice her own fears and concerns put Augusta a little more
at ease – it was easier to deal with when you didn’t have to face it alone.
“Neville tells me that the Potter boy will be the one to lead the way in the
war and that he will follow in the footsteps of other Longbottoms before him to
rally to Lord Potter’s battle standard…I can’t fault him and I certainly can’t
stop him…” She sighed explosively. “Your family has no such obligation to the
Potter line. What makes you so certain that they will rally to him?”
Molly stared at the older woman disbelievingly for several moments before she
was able to find her voice.
“You obviously haven’t met Harry if you have to ask that, Augusta. He inspires
loyalty – people who know him in passing would follow him into this war. Those
of us who know him well and love him would do almost anything for him.”
Surprised to hear this from Molly despite her grandson’s loyalty, Augusta shook
her head and sighed.
“No, I have not made his acquaintance, and I will reserve judgement on his
character until I have the opportunity to do so.”
“That’s fair enough, I suppose, but don’t let the children hear you talk like
that.” Molly giggled a little and waved the older woman back into her seat.
“They’ll give you an earful, is all. Well, I’d best get this food out onto the
tables before those teenagers perish from hunger.”
 
“Happy Birthday, Neville,” Luna murmured and hugged the blushing teen with a
great deal more decorum than Ginny had displayed. “You look like you’re in a
good mood today.”
“Of course I am.” Neville grinned and hugged Hermione before Ron could smack
him on the back and jar him to his toes. “I don’t have to sit through a
supposed party of old relatives who just want to gossip amongst themselves.” He
shuddered and laughed. “I’d much rather be here with you guys so we can gossip
about the adults and plan a party for Harry later on.”
“Much later on today, definitely,” Hermione agreed. “This is your birthday
party and we want you to enjoy it.”
“There will probably be Quidditch later if you want to play,” Ron interjected.
“Charlie and Bill are coming in later this afternoon and they said you can’t
leave until they get here because they have presents.”
“They do?” Neville blinked. “Wow. Okay. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to get
home or anything. Here comes your Mom with food…that sounds really good right
now. I didn’t eat this morning since I wanted to be able to eat here…”
“Happy Birthday, Neville!” Molly set the dish she was carrying on the table and
pulled the teenager into a fierce hug. “I am so glad we were able to throw a
party for you, dear boy. You lot look hungry, so dig in. There’s plenty for
lunch now and dinner later on today, too.” Molly bustled away to bring out the
next wave of dishes.
“What time is it, anyway?” Luna swayed slightly and shook her head as if to
clear it. Someone gently lowered her into a chair and her head fell back, eyes
distant and unfocused. “It’s time…”
 
 
July_30th,_Snape_Manor
 
Waking after a night of confused and confusing dreams, Harry discovered the
letter at the beginning of the sixth Goblin book and felt something inside him
self shatter with a vague sense of rightness that made him smile even as the
sense of anticipation that dogged his thoughts deepened further. Sending off a
quick note to Griphook as he seemed to recall the goblin had wanted him to do
if he found the letter, he made his way to the dining room, only to discover
that his appetite had died a sudden and unexpected death.
Of course, he’d been feeling strange for days now, so he didn’t feel quite
right blaming the letter or the book for his new set of strange symptoms.
Everyone was as solicitous as ever and, by Noon, he could barely keep his eyes
open. Letting his feet carry him forward automatically when a small hand
grabbed onto his own, he lost all awareness of the outside world as soon as the
door to the Ritual room sealed itself behind him.
Suddenly, everything focused into a crystalline clarity and he found himself
standing at the edge of the pool of light he had come to know as his magical
core.
“So beautiful,” he whispered and smiled when he saw that it was no longer
obstructed in any way. Giving in to a powerful instinct, he stepped out from
the edge and let himself drop into the pool and sink into its depths. Floating
buoyantly, he curled into a ball and fell into a deep sleep surrounded by the
liquid warmth of his magic.
 
TRANSLATIONS
 
Vox illae vitualamen est vehementer captus, reus ut meus vox quod per mihi
illis quisnam es fidelis volo! Ego excito vestri vox quod edo is! - Translates
to: The power of this sacrifice is forcefully taken, bound to my power and
through me to those who are loyal to me! I call forth your power and devour it!
Ego redimio cruor quod phasmatis of meus vitualamen ut is locus of vox pro
totus vicis! Per meus cruor ut vestri ego excito vestri phasmatis! - Translates
to: I bind the blood and spirit of my sacrifice to this place of power for all
time! With my blood to yours I call forth your spirits!
Is solemnitas of vox suscipio per is, meus vitualamen viscus quod patientia! -
Translates to: This festival of power begins with this, my offering of flesh
and suffering!
Suasurusha- ‘Great Cat’ in Parseltongue
Surbasra- ‘Man Wolf’ in Parseltongue
 
AN: I am going to be working on a story that one of my favourite authors,
Shadowface, began and had to discontinue. Shadowface has given me permission to
run with it, and I plan to do exactly that, so keep an eye out for Harry Potter
and The Warlock's Calling: Reloaded.
***** Discoveries *****

Author's notes: WIP/AU Lily and James went to greater lengths to protect their
son than even Dumbledore knew and, as Harry grows into his inheritance, the
Wizarding world will find out just how deep one old man's betrayal can run. May
contain het and/or slash in later chapters. Rating is to be safe. Dark/
Independent/Powerful!Harry
===============================================================================
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J. K. Rowling’s characters. I definitely take no credit for Monty
Python. Pity, that…
 
// Parseltongue //
 
Thoughts & Mindspeech
 
Letters, etc.
 
AN: Another chapter that seemed to grow and grow…but here it is! Enjoy, and as
always, thank you to everyone who reads and reviews. I love hearing what you
think about the story.
 
“…Tearing it back unveiling me.
Taking a step back so I can breathe.
Hear the silence about to break.
Fear resistance when I'm awake…”
- Godsmack “Awake”
 
July_30th,_The_Burrow,_Noon,_Neville’s_Birthday_Part_II
 
“What time is it, anyway?” Luna swayed slightly and shook her head as if to
clear it. Someone gently lowered her into a chair and her head fell back, eyes
distant and unfocused. “It’s time…”
“It’s time for lunch,” Ron declared in his usual oblivious way. Hermione’s
sharp smack to the back of his head made him yelp and focus away from food onto
the issue at hand. He frowned down at the dazed blonde.
“What’s wrong with Luna?”
“I don’t know…” Hermione trailed off as Luna’s shifted abruptly in her chair.
Sitting up, posture rigid and straight backed, Luna’s eyes took on a whitish
cast and then she spoke in a voice that was both rough and wispy all at the
same time.
 
“…The Sleeping Dragon Wakes…He shall rise like the sun to light and scorch the
land…Two brothers shall shine…one in twilight, one in night…the stars shall
avert their gaze and alter the course of fate…”
“Death has laid hold of the Serpent and been denied…His legions will swoop down
and devour all for he who desires the world…”
“Three shall perish to set the course of twilight’s rise…A Wolf shall act as
standard bearer…A Raven shall be the sinister hand…”
“Two shall shine…Two shall be consumed by the Flame…One shall emerge, healed
and whole… The Sleeping Dragon Wakes…”
 
Rummaging in her pockets, Hermione pulled out a ball point pen and sighed
gratefully. Rapidly scribbling the girl’s words onto a napkin, she kept an eye
out for anyone who might have noticed their strange behaviour. Relaxing only
once Luna blinked awake, Hermione reread the eccentric girl’s prophecy and
swallowed convulsively.
“Did I go away again?” Luna whispered and saw by the looks on their faces that
she had, indeed, ‘gone away’ again. “Oh dear. What did I say this time?”
Handing over the napkin, Hermione poured a glass of lemonade for Luna and set
it before the still slightly dazed girl.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were a Seeress?”
“I’m not as far as I know. I just go away sometimes and I say strange things
when I do.” Luna accepted the napkin from the older girl and read it with a
frown of confusion. “This isn’t like what I usually say,” she mused and handed
the napkin back to Hermione. “It’s usually much more disjointed, more like
random things about crumbling pedestals that can’t be fixed and a strange, new
species of serpent. If those things mean anything, I still haven’t figured them
out.”
“Does anyone ever keep track of what you say whenever these episodes happen?”
Ginny took her friend’s hands and wrapped them around the cool glass of
lemonade and urged her to drink some of it. “Because that sure sounded like a
prophecy to me.” The ginger haired girl shivered and rubbed her arms
reflexively. “A not so very nice prophecy…”
“I know what you mean,” Hermione whispered and shook her self free of the mood
inspired by Luna’s words. People were going to notice their subdued behaviour
pretty soon and her practical nature took over. “But there’s nothing we can do
about it right now, and we have a birthday to celebrate, so let’s have fun and
worry about what this might mean later.”
Pleading with her eyes for her friends to follow her lead, Hermione smiled and
also poured Neville a glass of lemonade. “Here you go, Nev.”
Content to drop the subject for now since she wasn’t sure this bunch of
statements meant any more than anything else she had said when she went away,
Luna offered only one comment before settling in to enjoy her glass of cold
lemonade.
“Talk to my father. I’m pretty sure he writes down what I say when I go away.”
Nodding her understanding, Ginny threw herself into helping Hermione play
hostess for their table by getting plates and silverware arranged while her
bushy haired friend continued to pour drinks.
“Does that mean we can have lunch now?” Ron asked his usually expected question
with a mischievous grin and let Hermione smack him even as the others cracked
up into laughter over the predictable display.
 
July_30th,_Snape_Manor,_Noon
 
A rush of power alerted Dobby to his young Master’s imminent magical maturity
and he hurried to his side as quickly as he could without using magic. With his
own in flux because his master’s was, he didn’t dare attempt anything until the
change was over. Trotting up to Harry, the little elf gently guided the barely
coherent wizard to the Ritual Room and made sure he was comfortable before
rushing upstairs to find either Remus or Severus. Skidding to a stop beside the
potions master, the elf tugged on Severus’ sleeve and bounced more
hyperactively than usual.
“Master Harry is sleeping in the Ritual Room now. Hims is growing into hims
power. Dobby was thinking yous was needing to know,” he declared in a babbling
rush and immediately rushed away to the kitchens and his own safe and snug bed.
Barely making it to his own bed before he collapsed into an unconscious sprawl
that one might call sleep, Dobby did the only thing he could to weather the
tidal ebb and flow of his Master’s surging magic – he let it do anything it
wanted as old, deeply ingrained instincts warned him that any resistance could
cause him pain and harm.
 
July_30th,_Unplottable_Location,_Noon
 
Waking in the early afternoon following the Revel, Voldemort frowned. Why am I
awake already? He quested around himself and found nothing out of the ordinary.
Looking inward, he frowned and then paled noticeably. The bond between himself
and Harry was alive and pulsing with the burgeoning power of the teen’s magical
maturity. Working quickly, almost frantically, to brace that damnable door as
closed as it ever stayed, the Dark Lord cursed to and at him self. If this kind
of power surge was bleeding off pressure through the bond to him, then he had
to have bled off an incredible amount of power to Harry during the night. What
an irony that would be, he growled. Dark Lord slain by the after effects of his
own dark ritual as bonded’s maturity spikes out of control…I can just see the
headlines now, he thought in a dryly sarcastic tone.
Sequestering himself in his bedroom so he could focus without interruption,
Voldemort locked the room down with every privacy spell and locking charm he
could think of and then devoted his entire attention to keeping the
metaphysical door in his mind shut once he realized that the power levels had
only begun to build. It didn’t look like the assault on his defences was going
to stop any time immediately and he had no way of knowing how long it would
last so he stretched out and got as comfortable as was possible given the cause
of his enforced lay in.
 
July_30th,_The_Longbottom_Estate,_8:00_P.M.
 
“Good night, Gran. I’m going to bed. I don’t feel very well,” Neville murmured
and waved listlessly before ghosting away to his room and the very inviting bed
that was waiting for him.
Augusta frowned and watched her grandson trudge up the stairs, her thoughts
turning to what his maturity would be like and if he would even have one that
was noticeable. Prior to his progress with the mind healer, she hadn’t thought
he would experience anything, but she still remained locked in the mindset that
he was still nearly a squib and assumed that nothing much of note would happen.
“You’ll feel better in the morning, Neville.”
 
Tossing and turning from the moment he laid down, unable to find a position
that was comfortable enough for him to fall asleep, Neville groaned and finally
threw off his comforter when the fabric’s weight left him feeling pinned down
and trapped. He could feel his magic beginning to ebb and flow more noticeably
and it alternately ached and itched deep inside his body, then right on the
surface of his skin. He felt like his body was being stretched to its limits by
some great beast that was trying to fit inside him, but he wasn’t shaped right
for whatever it was trying to do to him and it appeared to be quite determined
to force the fit. Clawing at his arms and chest as the burning, itching surges
of energy grew stronger and more painful and forced themselves through scarred
and unused magical conduits, he finally lost the battle on his control and
started to scream with the onset of the peak of his magical maturity.
 
Feeling no need for concern, Augusta stayed up for a little while before
retiring to her own rooms in the opposite wing of the manor home. A scarce few
hours later she was abruptly awakened her grandson’s piercing, pain filled
screams and what sounded like the explosive destruction of half of the wing
where his rooms were located. Running as fast as she could, the elderly witch
beheld a scene that was, in her mind, straight out of hell.
 
Walls were splintered and the floor and ceiling were heavily scorched around
the suspended form of Neville Longbottom, but the teen was completely oblivious
to trivial details like the condition of his ancestral home. Certain that his
magic was going to physically tear him limb from limb, he thrashed violently
and screamed with every pulse of magic that shot out from his core with all of
the searing, focused intensity of a laser; pain far worse than the Cruciatus
ripped through his very essence and drove him towards the brink of madness
again and again, and soon all he wanted to do was die. Forging new paths where
none could be found so that it could flow unimpeded through its host’s body and
mind, Neville’s magic finally completed its work and settled into his core
where it belonged before allowing him the oblivion of unconsciousness.
 
Horrified by what her grandson’s magic had done to her house and by the agony
she had heard in his voice, Augusta looked on in stunned, shocked silence when
her grandson’s movements abruptly stilled and the screams faded to low whimpers
as his body came to rest on the floor where his bed had been prior to his
maturity. Dropping down unceremoniously to the floor, she sat in the ruins of
the hall outside what had once been Neville’s bedroom and sobbed, her gaze
never leaving his still form. At that point, she was almost certain that his
maturity was going to kill him and couldn’t think of what to do through the
shock that had enveloped her mind.
“I can’t lose my Neville…please don’t take both of my boys from me…”
 
July_31st,_Snape_Manor
 
After having spent the main day of the full moon with an unusually active and
chipper werewolf, Severus was almost relieved to be making his way down to his
potions lab. Since Remus should be unavailable for conversation or
companionship for the latter hours of the current day and on through the
entirety of the next, he let his mind focus on completing the potions the Dark
Lord required of him.
Working through the night as an unknown source of energy kept him going without
lapse, he managed to get all three potions to a safe stopping place. That
unexpected source of energy trickled off and suddenly seemed to vanish around
dawn and he just barely managed to place stasis charms on the cauldrons before
stumbling into the sitting room just off from his personal lab. Collapsing onto
the first couch he came to, he instantly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
 
Uncertain why he felt so good for a day when he should be recovering from one
transformation and had yet another to endure with the coming moonrise, Remus
enjoyed the chance to actually be good company to someone during a full moon
and was just as happy to wander through the manor once Severus vanished down
into the dungeons to wile away the hours in his potions lab.
Settling in the library for most of his time, he delighted in having access to
so many old and, in many cases, rare books on a wide variety of personally
intriguing topics. Finding little information that might explain his sudden
reprieve from the pain and debilitating effects of his curse and afraid to hope
that it could be more than a fluke, Remus put the issue from his mind and vowed
to enjoy it as a one time gift. The house elves kept him supplied with food and
drinks and for the first time he felt little in the way of dread about the
coming of the moon.
Retiring to his own dungeon room knowing he must spend his next two nights
there, Remus still gave in to the call of the moon with a joyful howl that came
from the depths of his essence. For the first time in longer than he could
remember, for the first time since the Marauders had run the moons together, he
did not feel imprisoned by the room he stayed in to protect others. He felt the
change begin and was shocked to feel almost no pain, and what little he did
feel served as an affirmation that he was free and alive as the wolf burst free
from the cage of his human form. Shaking himself vigorously, the massive golden
wolf threw back its head and howled again simply for the sheer pleasure of
doing so.
 
July_31st,_Ritual_Room,_Snape_Manor
 
Flashes of dreams filled Harry’s consciousness and he revelled in the depth of
emotion they brought to him. Uncaring of the source or their meanings for now,
he let them wash over his consciousness and fill him up with the joy and
comfort their images left behind.
Soaring, swooping and diving over an impossibly green forest and he laughed his
delight when his passage caused flocks of colourful birds to explode into
motion in his wake and disturbed other, unknown animals into noisy protest if
he came too close to the trees. Unfamiliar structures appeared beneath him even
as he flew higher to enjoy the pure freedom that was flight…
Snuggling in close to the soft feathery warmth and comfort of one he knew would
protect him from harm, he sighed contentedly when longer feathers closed around
him to shield him from the brightness so he could sleep on undisturbed. A
lilting, beautiful song lulled him back into unconsciousness faster than any
lullaby…
Harry caught a brief glimpse of deep, dark places that reeked of even darker
magics and that brief moment of awareness stirred up a deep, driving hunger in
the depths of his being before he was pulled away by the joy of meeting a
Speaker and the satisfaction of not being alone. He could feel the deeply
instinctual bond of friendship that was meant to form between serpent and
Speaker and was lulled away again, this time by the comforting support of the
coils of some great snake…
The red rush of the Hunt and the all encompassing security of the Pack flowed
through him and he let his own joyful howl sound out in answer to the singing
power that filled his blood and made his body seem too small for everything it
made him feel. He felt the Call of Mother Moon and twisted and sought to be
free of whatever was binding him to this frail form with all of the restless
desire the beast inside him felt in response to Her Call until the cooling calm
of the great serpent’s coils returned…
Focusing on the gentle, grounding support of those powerful coils, he opened
his eyes and gasped. Reaching out to stroke the shimmering scales of the Black
Basilisk that held him, Harry smiled his delight over its beauty.
//Why are you here?// he hissed curiously.
//I am part of your magic, part of your very blood and bones. I will always be
with you, young Speaker.// The Basilisk nuzzled the young wizard and settled
even more protectively around him. //We are one and the same.//
More reassured by that last statement than he could put into words, the young
wizard purred his contentment and snuggled further into the Basilisk’s coils.
//I’m glad,// he hissed in reply and yawned while stroking smooth, cool scales.
Every touch lulled him deeper towards sleep and he struggled against it weakly.
//Sleep young Speaker. You have much growing yet to do...//
The urge to sleep washed over Harry yet again and he didn’t fight it this time.
He could feel his magic working to remake his body and had no desire to be
fully conscious, experiencing what was likely a very painful process. Sometime
later, still content to lie cradled in the Basilisk’s coils, he felt a presence
that called him back to awareness with the gentle touch of sun-warmed feathers.
His eyes widened when he saw a phoenix that looked very much like his last
recollection of Fawkes perched on the coil nearest to him.
“Fawkes? Is that really you?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, fledgling. Thanks to the workings of your magic,
my tears have become a permanent part of your blood, so in some ways I, too,
will always be with you right alongside the Basilisk. I have never before
encountered this kind of synthesis between such diametrically opposed magical
species, so I cannot even begin to try and tell you how it will affect you in
the end.”
“That’s okay, Fawkes. It doesn’t feel bad. It feels really good; actually…it
feels right…”
“I am glad to know this, fledgling. The only advice I can offer is this – when
you are in dire need, your blood will answer your call for aid.”
“Do you know what will happen?”
“Regrettably, I do not, but whatever does happen will be only that which you
and your magic are capable of supporting.”
With that final enigmatic statement, the phoenix vanished in a flash of flames
and oblivion claimed the young wizard before he could even begin to formulate a
question.
 
July_31st,_Unplottable_Location
 
Immensely grateful for that small thread of attention he always kept focused on
the bond he shared with Harry now that he was faced with a true need for it,
Voldemort wondered if either of them was going to survive the day with their
minds and magic fully intact. Bracing against a steadily rising surge of power
that seemed to go on forever, he finally felt it level out after an uncertain
number of hours.
The metaphysical creaks and groans coming from the door between their minds did
nothing to help his confidence, though he was glad for the slow spill over of
power, as his own reserves would certainly have begun to flag after such a long
term, concerted siege. Where did this come from, my little serpent? What opened
this great well of power in you? Glad for the chance to merely maintain his
bracing stance instead of having to work so actively to keep the door closed,
Voldemort contemplated whether or not any of the cause for this strange
maturity was his ‘fault’ or if this was simply another aspect of things never
going according to expectation with the always infuriating Boy Who Bloody Well
Refused To Be Normal.
After what seemed like an eternity the assault abruptly eased, then ceased
completely as the power levels on the opposite side of the bond smoothed out to
a more normal seeming level even though Voldemort knew that wasn’t possible.
Startled by the sudden lack of ‘pressure’, his curiosity was cut short when his
body collapsed into an exhausted sleep the moment his instincts said it was
safe to do so. Tossing and turning through strange dreams of a shimmering black
basilisk and the most brilliantly coloured red and gold phoenix he had ever
seen, Voldemort marvelled at the beauty and strangeness of these magical beings
and wondered where they could have come from.
 
July_31st,_The_Longbottom_Estate
 
Neville groaned and tried to remember who had beaten him so viciously and what
he had done to cause it to happen. Surely he’d remember pissing someone off
this badly…then he did remember and wished he hadn’t.
“Oh, Merlin, be careful what you wish for,” he groaned. “Why did it have to
hurt so bloody badly..?”
“Neville?!” Augusta choked back a cry of joy. My boy’s alive! “Can I get you
anything? A pain potion? Some water?”
“Why was it so awful, Gran…it wasn’t supposed to be like that…”
“I don’t know why it was so terrible for you, Neville.” Augusta choked back a
new wave of tears and forced herself to step up and take responsibility for the
situation. She could have her grand crying jag once the dust had settled. “It
should have been something you could have slept through, even without
everything that has happened to you.”
“What time is it?” Neville felt a nearly frantic need to know what had
happened…had this done him more harm than good? Had it damaged his magic
further? Forcing himself to stop thinking so negatively until there was a
reason for it, he waited for the time.
“I – Tempus.” Augusta sighed. “It’s just nine in the morning. Let’s get you to
someplace more comfortable so you can rest some more.”
“Why didn’t you move me before?” Neville frowned in open confusion.
“I can’t carry you and I was afraid that using magic on you might hurt you even
more. I couldn’t bear that thought…not after what you had already been
through…”
“Oh, okay…In that case, I’m glad you didn’t move me.” Neville sighed
explosively and slowly levered himself up off of the floor with a deep groan of
pain. “I really need that pain potion and I need to see Healer Monroe once I
get cleaned up and into some decent clothes.”
“You should rest…”
“I need to know what happened, Gran. Healer Monroe knows what my mind and magic
looked like before all this happened, so he can look for any damage and obvious
changes.” Neville finished pushing himself up to a standing position and swayed
dangerously on his feet. Now that he was awake and moving, he felt even more
like he had been ripped apart and put back together rather roughly. “He didn’t
expect something like this to happen or he would have warned me.”
Augusta nodded abruptly and climbed to her feet with her own groan as stiff
joints protested her night spent on the floor. If there was any damage to his
core or his magic, the sooner they found out, the better it would be for her
Neville.
“Use the closest bathroom while I go fire call Healer Monroe. It may not be
safe for you to use the floo, so I’ll ask him to come here. I’ll send Cissy to
you with some clothes or have her transfigure some if she has to and I’ll have
her bring the potion and some tea up while you get yourself somewhat together.”
Watching her grandson slowly stagger his way down the hall, Augusta sighed and
shook her head in bemused amazement over seeing him even capable of walking
after what he had gone through. “Cissy.”
“Cissy is hearing you, Mistress. The potion is in the wash room and tea is
being in the nook. Is Mistress needing Cissy to look after the Young Master?”
“Please look after him…I’m afraid he might fall and hurt himself after what
he’s been through.”
“Young Master had a bad growing up. Cissy will keep him safe.” The elf
vanished, leaving Augusta alone in the ruined hall.
“Good. Now, on to the next important thing…” Heading for the nearest fireplace
after taking one last, awestruck look at the destruction around her, Augusta
recovered her stiff composure. Who would have thought there was such potential
locked away in my sweet Neville? The quiet voice of her conscience reminded her
that someone had noticed and encouraged his potential or his loyalty to certain
friends would not be so deep.
Throwing a handful of floo powder into the fire, Augusta called out her
destination and stuck her head in the flames.
“St. Mungo’s, Mind Healer’s wing!”
“Thank you for calling the Offices of the Mind Healer’s Wing. How may I help
you?”
“I need to speak to Master Mind Healer Monroe. It’s urgent! He is my grandson,
Neville Longbottom’s mind healer…”
The receptionist nodded and vanished from sight. The next thing Augusta knew,
she was looking into the concerned face of an older but vital looking Healer.
“We haven’t met, but I’m Master Mind Healer Monroe. How can I help you, Mrs.
Longbottom? What’s wrong with Neville?”
“He went through his maturity last night and it was incredibly violent…Neville
wanted you to check him over and I’m afraid to use any magic on or near him
until I know he isn’t badly injured…”
“You did the right thing, Mrs. Longbottom. Let me get my bag and I’ll come
through. This is most unexpected.”
 
Following Augusta upstairs after arriving via the floo, Octavius turned his
head to look down the opposite way the older woman was trying to lead him when
he felt a strong magical residue. Patting her hand gently, he sighed.
“His room was down that hall?”
“Yes...how…?”
“I can feel the magic. Do you mind if I take a quick look? It might give me a
few clues as to what went on with young Neville.” Receiving an abrupt nod from
his patient’s guardian, the Mind Healer made his way down to what must have
once been the teenager’s bedroom and stopped with a hiss of surprised shock.
Taking in the total destruction of the one room and the peripheral damage to
the adjoining rooms and the hall, Octavius avoided going any further as he
didn’t trust the structural stability of the floor at the moment.
“Was it the blast that alerted you to there being a problem?” he asked once he
had rejoined the elderly witch. “I can’t imagine he gave you much warning or
you’d have surely had him move down to your ritual room or some other warded
room…”
“But he didn’t show any signs, Healer Monroe…he said he didn’t feel well and
went to bed,” Augusta whispered. “All very much to be expected…”
“Then I will have a look at him and see what happened to cause such a sudden
change as opposed to the expected quiet maturity,” Octavius assured her.
“Please take me to him, Mrs. Longbottom. I am most concerned about your
grandson’s well being.”
 
Neville looked up when the door opened and sagged with relief when he saw the
mind healer. The pain he was feeling had been eased by the potion and a hot
shower, but he still felt like he had been burned from the inside out.
“Healer Monroe…it still hurts so bad…what happened to me?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out, Neville,” Octavius murmured reassuringly
and pulled up a chair close to the shivering teen. Framing his face with both
hands, the mind healer inspected his patient’s skin colour and the
responsiveness of his gaze before frowning. “You are showing some symptoms that
are indicative of Cruciatus exposure. Can you describe for me what happened or
would you prefer I have a look for myself?”
“Take a look,” Neville whispered tiredly. “I’m not even clear on half of what
happened once the pain got to be too much…” He winced at even remembering what
had happened and was soothed by the quiet voice of the mind healer.
“Shhh, Neville…just relax and let me take a look so you don’t have to try to
explain,” Octavius urged and slipped into the boy’s mind when he gave him eye
contact. Resisting the urge to itch at his own skin while he watched and
observed everything Neville had gone through, the older wizard shook his head
in silent denial. What he was seeing shouldn’t have happened and shouldn’t have
even been possible. Backing out of the memory, he took a look at Neville’s mind
in general and his magical pathways more specifically and was equal parts
elated and horrified at what he was seeing. He returned to his own mind and
sighed heavily while organizing his thoughts.
“Well, Mr. Longbottom, I can honestly tell you that you’ll live and be all the
better for having survived this particularly nasty event,” he quipped, earning
himself a weak grin from Neville and an almost offended glare from Augusta.
“Your magical pathways were never as fully developed as they should have been,
given the damage done to you at such a young age, but we had made a great deal
of progress in repairing some of those damaged areas. Apparently your magic
decided that we had the right idea and decided to forge all of the pathways you
should have started developing in early childhood.”
“I take it from your expression that this wasn’t supposed to happen,” Neville
observed ruefully. “Just how not normal was this? Did I just pull a Harry?”
Blinking as he took a moment to follow the reference, Octavius finally grinned
a little and shook his head.
“I have never heard of a case where someone gained this level of pathway
development during their maturity, Neville. I will be honest with you in that I
am quite surprised and very relieved that you survived the process…yes, I’d say
in this instance you pulled a ‘Harry’.” Returning to his more direct and stern
healer approach, he met Neville’s gaze so there could be no mistaking how
serious he was about what he was about to say.
“You must do no magic until I tell you it is safe, Mr. Longbottom. None at all.
No magical travel, no having magic performed on you, no practicing spells,
nothing of the sort.”
“Is it the pain the potion didn’t help? Is that those new pathways that are
making me feel like I’ve been burned inside…?”
“That is the very cause. Those pathways need to heal completely or you will
damage them. I will return on the fifth for a check up unless you experience
any problems or have any questions before that and hopefully I will be able to
declare you well enough to start flexing the new extent of your magic by then.
Is there anything in particular you would like me to tell your friends so they
do not worry so much about you when you aren’t present?”
Neville groaned and scrubbed his face with both hands. Ha hadn’t even thought
about the likelihood of the group being worried about his absence.
“Oh, man…I didn’t even think about that…just tell them I pulled a Harry and had
one hell of a maturity that I’ll explain once I can get back together with
them…tell them I’m fine.” He grinned wickedly before smothering a yawn.
“I’ll tell them, though I’m certain that last comment will mean more to them
than it does to me.” Smiling warmly, Octavius smoothed the boy’s hair and shook
his head fondly.
“I will leave you a Cruciatus relief potion to ease the pain from the muscle
spasms and pain your maturity caused you. It should be a great deal more
effective than just a pain potion. Now, you need to go rest, young man. Sleep
until you wake normally and sleep again if you feel tired no matter how silly
you may feel for sleeping the better part of a day or two. Eat as much as
you’re hungry for. Your body and magic know what they need and you’ll heal
faster if you do what they tell you to do.”
“Thanks, Healer Monroe,” Neville mumbled and yawned blearily as if the mere
mention of sleep had stripped him of any remaining energy reserves. Stumbling
to the bed, he burrowed under the comforter and was almost instantly out like a
light.
Watching Healer Monroe interact with her grandson on such a deeply personal
level that only true trust could allow made Augusta smile a wistful little
smile and made her feel that much more comfortable with his presence. Listening
to his explanations and admonitions with no small amount of surprise and, in
some cases, indignation, she shook her head at the easy way he handled a
teenage boy.
“You must be a wonderful father, Mind Healer Monroe…”
Smiling sadly, Octavius shrugged and gestured for Augusta to take Neville’s
seat.
“I appreciate the compliment and I suppose I would have been. I loved…I never
got the opportunity to see my daughter grow up past the age of three, nor my
son be born thanks to Voldemort and his lackeys in the first war. My wife and
children were killed in a raid.”
“Oh, sweet Merlin, I’m so sorry, Healer Monroe…I didn’t even think…”
“You couldn’t know and it has been nearly twenty years now…your grandson is a
fighter, you know. He’s going to bounce back from this and be stronger than you
ever imagined.”
“So he won’t be a squib?” Augusta asked hopefully.
“A squib?!” Octavius eyed the elderly witch curiously and wondered where she
had gotten the idea that Neville would be a squib. “Neville never was a squib
and he most certainly isn’t one now. I just need you to make sure he does no
magic until I clear him as fully healed. He’s going to sleep a lot for the next
few days and he will likely eat like a young horse to help restore his energy
reserves, so he may be too occupied at first to think about it, but once those
new pathways stop hurting so badly, he’s going to be itching to see what he can
do and he needs to be reminded that he can’t do so just yet.”
Nodding her understanding, Augusta relaxed visibly.
“So…how strong is he going to be once he’s properly healed? Do you have any
idea at this point?”
“It’s difficult to tell, but we’ll be able to do some basic testing once he’s
able to cast again. We can set something up when I return on the fifth for his
check up if that is acceptable to you?”
“That is quite acceptable, Mind Healer. Thank you for taking the time out of
your busy schedule to make a house call.” Augusta smiled a little and sighed.
“It was no trouble, but I am going to take my leave, as I am bound to have four
very antsy teens waiting outside my door wondering why Neville and I are late.”
 
July_31st,_St._Mungo’s,_Office_of_Master_Mind_Healer_Octavius_Monroe
 
Fidgeting with nervous energy, Ginny resisted – barely - the urge to bang her
fists on Healer Monroe’s door in case he was really in there and this was just
a test to see how well they responded to a frustrating situation.
“Where’s Neville? His Gran never lets him be late,” Ginny observed. “Come to
think of it, Healer Monroe has never not been here waiting on us, either…”
“I…” Hermione began and was glad to be cut off by the soothing voice of their
Mind Healer.
“I apologize for keeping you all waiting without any kind of note, but I was
called away rather unexpectedly,” Octavius declared from behind the small group
of teens. “I had to make a house call.”
“Do you know if Neville is okay? He’s not here and he didn’t say he wouldn’t be
at his party yesterday…” Hermione trailed off when Octavius smiled warmly and
gestured to unlock his office door.
“He won’t be here today and may not be able to make it on the fifth,” Octavius
replied as they filed in and seated themselves in front of his desk. “I just
returned from visiting him at his home because his maturity was very hard on
him.” He grinned a little. “He told me to tell you he ‘pulled a Harry’ and that
he is fine.”
“Pulled a Harry?! How? What happened? Did he get hurt?!” Ginny blurted out in a
worried rush, an emotion that was echoed by the startled looks on the other
three teen’s faces.
“He won’t be permitted to use magic for at least a week, and he is tired and
achy, but otherwise healthy,” Octavius replied reassuringly. “He stated a wish
to explain on his own once he was able to get back together with all of you.”
“He’ll be okay, though, right?” Luna smiled tentatively as her mind returned to
the words she’d spoken at his party. “I…”
“He’ll be fine,” Ron said with a snigger and a rueful shake of his head. “We’ve
corrupted nice quiet Neville…he’s cracking jokes even when he’s feeling bad.
You know he was just yanking our chains with that, right?”
“I know, but…” Ginny sighed expressively and grinned at her brother. “You’re
right. Nev will tell us all about his ‘adventure’ when we see him again and
it’s looking like we’ll see him and Harry at about the same time.”
“Speaking of Harry, have you heard anything from Moony or Professor Snape?”
Hermione tilted her head to one side and arched an eyebrow inquisitively.
“I haven’t heard anything, but young Mr. Potter’s maturity wasn’t due to even
start until today…”
“It started yesterday and I bet there will be plenty to tell,” Luna stated with
a secretive little smile.
“Yesterday?” Octavius studied the almost smug blonde and wondered how she could
know when someone’s maturity began, but let that curiosity go for the concern
of two irregular maturities from such a small group. Of course, he reminded
himself. Not one of these young people fits the average mould, so maybe it
isn’t so irregular after all. “I hope I will be able to check up on him like I
did Neville.”
“I’m sure Harry will be here Monday right alongside Neville,” Ron declared.
“There hasn’t been anything that could keep him down yet.”
“What he said,” Hermione agreed with a much happier grin. “They’ll both be okay
and we’ll see them in a few days…”
 
August_1st,_Snape_Manor
8:00 A.M.
Awakened by bright sunlight, the potions master growled and threw an arm over
his face to block out the offending light. Unsuccessful in his attempt, he
rolled away from the light and landed unceremoniously on the floor with a
muffled thump and a sharp curse.
Still cursing, Severus looked around like a startled cat that had just taken an
unexpected tumble and relaxed only once he was certain that no one had
witnessed his embarrassing and graceless moment. Rising from the floor, he
stretched and realized he felt remarkably good for having just slept several
hours on a monstrously uncomfortable old Victorian sofa.
Exiting the sitting room, he barely set foot in the hall before the loud bellow
of Remus yelling for him startled him into motion. Running down the hall to
check on what he fears is a heavily injured werewolf that shouldn’t have been
awake for several more hours at the earliest, Severus used to doorjamb to
direct him into the room. Skidding to a halt he stopped and could do nothing
more than gape at his much younger and healthier looking companion.
“What…you…look younger…” Allowing himself to be drawn over to the mirror by the
werewolf, Severus blinked dumbly at his own changed visage. Raising a hand, he
touched his hair to confirm that it was, indeed, about six inches longer than
it had been hen he went to sleep. Really looking at himself and Remus, he
smirked and shook his head. “As nice as it is to not look ten years older than
I should, whatever did this could have been considerate enough to straighten my
nose or some such…”
Remus laughed at that petulant statement, earning himself a sharp glare that
only made him laugh harder. Calming enough to comment, the werewolf grinned
unrepentantly.
“I’m happy to not have so much grey in my hair that I look like an old man and
all you can whine about is that you don’t look prettier?!”
Drawing himself up indignantly, Severus crossed his arms over his chest in an
openly defensive posture and shook his head.
“That isn’t what I said, Moony…I simply…”
“Wanted your nose straightened?” Remus’ grin grew in proportion with Severus’
glare until the snarky man finally gave in and shook his head in defeat.
“I have no illusions about how people see me, Moony. Looking younger is better,
but all that makes me is a younger ‘greasy git’.” Seeing the amused sympathy in
his companions amber eyes forced a sharp laugh out of him. “Oh, stop it, you
mangy hound! It didn’t make you any prettier either, so stop looking so damn
superior about the whole situation.”
“You wound me, Severus! How could you be so cruel as to say I’m not pretty?!”
Ruining his attempt at pulling the spy’s leg by laughing halfway though his
protests, Remus finally sobered up enough to pat his friend on the shoulder. “I
think there’s a bit of an after effect of giddiness…we should check on Harry.
If this was caused in any way by his maturity, then I’m almost afraid to find
out what it did to him.”
“Don’t forget to check on that damnable house elf, as well, if that is your
concern,” Severus pointed out. “As amusing as it is to watch a power drunk elf,
this could have done more than leave him giddy and nearly useless.”
 
12:00 P.M.
Waking slowly, senses questing and finding only the silence of the ritual room
and the blinding static of its overly charged walls, the newly matured wizard
actually opened his eyes and gasped when he focused on the smooth ceiling above
him. He could have sworn it had been covered with intricate carvings when
Severus had shown it to him and Remus shortly after their arrival. Rolling to
one side, he saw that the walls and floor were in a similar state of smooth
barrenness that he just knew was a sign of destruction, not a normal state.
Shaking his head as he decided to deal with it later, Harry levered himself up
off of the Ritual Room floor and stretched with serpentine flexibility. Taking
one last look around before leaving the safety of the room’s confines, he
trailed a hand over the smooth, pitch black stone and hoped that he could see
it restored to its original glory. Oblivious to his nudity, he slowly made his
way up to the main floor and into the dining room.
“Severus? Remus?”
Startled by his Cub’s sudden appearance and by the change in his scent and
looks, Remus just sat and blinked at the young man.
“Cub?”
Spurred into motion by Remus’ half disbelieving inquiry, Severus stood and
crossed the room to the young man’s side while unbuttoning his outer robe.
“Harry? Great Merlin!” The Potions Master swung his robe off of his own
shoulders and around Harry’s. Urging him to slip it on properly while he did up
the buttons down the front, the potions master shook his head in stunned
amazement.
“You’re so much taller…” Guiding Harry to a chair, he urged him to sit. “Do you
need a pain potion or anything?”
“Something that won’t make me sleepy would be great,” the newly Awakened
sorcerer replied and grinned when a full meal appeared in front of him.
“How long was I out? I’m afraid your ritual room is trashed…”
“Just a sip should do it,” Severus informed him and handed him the potion vial.
“You were unconscious for a solid forty-eight hours, I believe. Given how the
wards lit up right after you went into the room, I am unsurprised that the room
is in a bad way.”
Glancing out the window, Harry paused with his fork half way to his mouth,
green eyes intensely focused on the vibrantly glowing, tangible wards.
“Wow, I’ve never seen wards that glowed like that. How long do you figure
they’ll stay that way?”
“A few days at most. Eat up. You must be hungry. We can talk about everything
that’s changed and happened once you’re done.” Returning to his seat across
from where the teen was now sitting, he nudged the werewolf out of his
surprised silence.
“Merlin’s bones, Cub…I knew your maturity had affected us and expected that you
would change some, but…how do you feel? Really?” Remus sat forward, amber gaze
memorizing the startling changes that his cub had undergone.
“How do I feel?” Harry mused quietly, green eyes focused with fascinated
intensity on the glowing, swirling wards. “I feel a little achy, but since I’m
a good bit taller, I guess that’s to be expected…I feel alive, unbound…I had no
idea what it would feel like to actually fall into my magic and let it have
free reign…” He trailed off into a goofy grin as that memory surfaced and he
relived the moment he took a leap of faith and stepped off into the pool that
led to his actual core.
Startled by the heat shimmer like aura that sprang into life around Harry when
he drifted off with that odd little smile, Severus tilted his head to one side
and cautiously reached across the table to touch the ethereal representation of
the youth’s power. Shuddering, he drew back and part of the aura reached out to
follow until he was completely back in his seat. Looking up he met the very
amused green gaze of the teenager that sat across from him.
“What caused your aura to show?” Severus asked quietly as if he had never
reached out to feel that burning rush of power.
“I was remembering the moment my maturity began, when I dropped into my core to
sleep,” Harry replied and held up a hand with a curious expression on his face.
“This seems a bit subtle to be the aura that goes with how my magic feels but I
can live with it until something triggers the real thing,” he mused quietly.
“How do you trigger it?”
“It could be a mood trigger like anger or you might just have to pump more
power into it,” Severus replied. “I have only managed a visible aura a few
times during my life and I have to be in a really bad place emotionally and
magically for it to happen…”
“Mine is most likely to show up at council meetings,” Remus commented. “It
tends to pop up when I’m really riled up and trying to get a point across.
Funny thing that since it sure as hell makes you look a lot more powerful and
impressive.” He laughed and brushed his fingers over Harry’s aura just as
Severus had done a few minutes before. Shuddering just as visibly, he watched
as the power also followed him back to his seat.
“That shimmer is almost more unnerving than a full colour aura…”
Frowning, Harry realized one important thing and sat back so he could see both
men.
“Okay…how do I turn it off? This isn’t the sort of thing they teach you at
Hogwarts.”
“It’s a matter of will power that eventually becomes almost instinctual. Focus
on making your power not visible and it should fade away.” Remus watched as his
cub closed his eyes and focused on his magic and his core. After several long
minutes of silence, the teen’s aura flared briefly into full colour before
vanishing completely. “It looks like green and black flames down to the flare
ups of other colours…it was faint, but it was definitely there.”
“That is going to take some practice,” Harry observed with a tired sounding
groan. “Turning it on seems to be almost overly easy, but drawing it back in is
really hard to do. I guess that means I know one thing for sure I’ll be working
on before school starts back up.”
“We will also have to determine if you can still use that red wand or if you
will need to see Ollivander for a new one,” Severus offered. “It may take the
better part of the next month to gain a true semblance of control over your new
level of power.”
“Rest today, though,” Remus stated firmly upon seeing the way his cub’s
attention was drifting. “Get your focus back on the real world and then we’ll
worry about some duelling and all of the fun things we need to do to figure out
what some of your new limits might be.”
“I can live with that,” Harry murmured and realized he had finished his
breakfast at some point when he hadn’t been paying attention. “I think I’m
going to go take a bath and actually get dressed…Dobby?”
The still power drunk elf scurried out of the kitchen and skidded to a halt at
his master’s side.
“Yous called Dobby, Master Harry? What can I be doing for yous?” The little elf
bounced with excess energy and spoke so quickly it was a wonder that Harry
could even understand him.
“I’m going to need some clothes transfigured from the ones I have so they will
fit me now. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Dobby can be doing this for yous, Master Harry. Yous clothes will be ready
when yous bath is done!” The elf scurried away again.
“How long does that sort of thing usually last?” Head tilted almost sideways,
Harry watched one of the other elves watching Dobby with cautious amusement.
“The others don’t seem too surprised…”
“Of course not. When my power levels are boosted by the Revels, my elves are
slightly drunk from it as well. I’m sure Dobby will come down off of his high
about the time the wards start to fade back down to normal,” Severus observed
in a matter of fact tone. “Go enjoy your bath and if he can’t manage the magic
safely right now, I’ll have one of my elves transfigure the clothes for you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Rising carefully because his body still ached and
his balance wasn’t completely adjusted to his new height, the young wizard
slowly made his way upstairs. Once in his room, he shrugged out of Severus’
robe and laid it carefully on his bed before wandering into the bathroom for a
nice long, hot soak.
 
2:00 P.M.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Harry whispered and stared at the new person
who was looking back at him from the mirror. Had it really only been two days
since he’d looked into this very same mirror and seen a slender, bespectacled,
and shorter than average teenage boy? Now he was over six feet tall if looking
down a little bit to meet Remus and Severus’ gaze was any indication. His
shoulders had broadened and his entire body had filled out with wiry muscle
that he had a feeling would continue to look deceptively slender under robes.
The appearance people tended to expect from him wasn’t completely lost as an
advantage. His hair was one of the things that really shocked him. Gone was the
fly-away sable mop he was used to and in its place was a fall of almost
straight, glossy black hair that ended about half way down his back and
reflected back occasional flashes of vibrant colour...
“No more glasses, either,” he murmured with no small amount of satisfaction and
a slightly smug grin. Dressing meticulously in the clothing that he assumed
Dobby had left out for him, he returned to the dining room to confront his
housemates.
“Are you going to try and tell me that this kind of radical change is normal by
any stretch of the imagination?” Arms crossed over his chest, green eyes
flashing, Harry looked every bit the young nobleman as he challenged both men
with his gaze and tone.
“Some change is fairly common, but no, this degree of change is definitely not
what one would usually expect,” Severus admitted. “More unusual still is the
effect your maturity had on those of us who are bound to you.”
“I thought you two looked…younger and healthier than before. Now you look how I
would expect a wizard of your age to appear.” Harry sighed softly. “So what do
we do now? I guess we need to find out if I can still use my current wand or if
I will need a new one, but that can wait until tomorrow.”
“I would suggest not worrying yourself about it until you cross that bridge,”
Remus suggested. “If you do need a new wand, we’ll go to Ollivander’s just as
Severus suggested.”
“Madam Malkin’s, then Ollivander’s,” Harry corrected quietly. “I have some
robes that I need her to make for us and I’d rather not wear transfigured
clothing any longer than necessary. I just want to have some clothes that fit
hanging up in my closet so I can reach in and grab something without having to
think about it.”
“That’s perfectly reasonable and you’ll need things of a better quality than
you would normally have,” Severus pointed out. “At the very least you are
certain to be the newest Lord Potter and that comes with a great deal of
responsibility.”
“He’s talking about political clout and all of that ridiculously fun stuff,”
Remus drawled and was surprised by his cub’s amused smirk.
“I have been doing a lot of reading and planning, you two. I’m not going to win
this war strictly through brute force, not by a long stretch. Well, the thing
between Tom and I might be won by brute magical power, but not my personal
conflict with Dumbledore and frankly, the Ministry we have leaves a lot to be
desired as a governing body, so…That is almost entirely about political power
and knowledge and I’ve got a lot to learn before I can even pretend to think
I’m prepared to step out into the political arena against Dumbledore and
Fudge.”
 
August_2nd,_Snape_Manor,_Late_evening
 
Finally clear headed enough to remember that he needed to go out to meet Hedwig
in case she had any mail for their shared Master, Dobby tested the slowly
calming wards and was able to slide out for the first time in three days.
Popping out to the location he had been given, Dobby was greeted by a quiet but
tired sounding hoot.
Looking up, the little elf smiled broadly when he recognized the snowy owl.
Moving closer, he gestured to coax her down from her perch in a large, old oak.
“Come down, missy Hedwig. Dobby is being here to takes you to Master Harry.”
Hooting her relief, the snowy owl swooped down and landed before the elf with
an expectant look. Hooting again, she shifted restlessly as if to urge him to
get a move on already.
Laying his hands on the owl and her pile of shrunken packages, Dobby popped
them directly to the dining room and relieved Hedwig of her burden before
carrying her up to the Owlery.
 
Wandering into the dining room, Remus paused at the pile of packages and mail
that covered a good sized chunk of space on the table top. One letter caught
his attention and he picked it up with a wicked grin.
“Hey, Cub! Your O.W.L. results are here!!”
“Go ahead and open them,” Harry told him as he wandered in and did his own
double take over the pile of stuff on the table. “Well…I guess that means we
can go out now…” he commented as a boyish grin grew on his face and he laughed
happily. “Presents.”
“You are still such a little boy at times,” Severus observed with a wry chuckle
of his own.
“I never really got presents before Hogwarts. I just like getting to open them
up and see what’s inside even if I’ll never use it…” Settling into a chair, he
pulled the first present to him and shook his head. It looked and felt like a
book and the wrapping looked like it was quite expensive. He hefted it and
tilted his head to one side before it occurred to him who this particular book
was from. “Well colour me shocked…”
“Why are you shocked?” Severus sat down in his usual place opposite Harry and
began to worry over the younger man’s wickedly pleased grin. “Who sent you a
very expensive looking book shaped present?”
“I’ll know for sure in just a moment,” Harry replied and carefully opened the
heavy paper so he could save it. Inside lay a thick, old but unassuming looking
tome that reeked of dark magic the moment the paper was completely pulled away
from it. “Yup, this one is from Tom.”
“When did you start getting enough books from him to know he is the one who
sent it?”
“You wouldn’t have let me read them so I didn’t tell you I was getting them
from him,” Harry replied candidly. “So far all he’s been sending me is the
stuff he studied before he made a play for Dark Lord of the Century and that’s
mostly rituals and things like that. Since I’m the way I am because of one hell
of a ritual, I think I’ll pass on using any more, thanks. This book,
though…this one I’m not sure about.”
Remus slid over to look at the dark brown leather bound book and searched the
cover for any sign of lettering; seeing none, he sighed his frustration. The
truly old and truly evil works rarely had a visible title since time or
discretion had wiped the cover clean.
“Any ideas, Severus? No obvious title, so it could just be really old, but I’m
thinking this one never had one on the cover.”
“I am inclined to agree with you, Moony. From the feel of it, that book has
seen a great deal of use and none of it has been good.” Shaking his head,
Severus pulled out his wand and cast a detection spell on the tome and was
openly surprised when it came up negative. “Harry…just how close are you to the
Dark Lord?”
“We talk, we exchange books, we argue and annoy each other and we look forward
to the day when we finally get to duel properly,” Harry replied with a wry
grin. “How close do you think we are, Severus?”
“I think he has a lot of interest in you or that book would have been cursed,
as would half of the others…”
“Oh, a lot of them are,” Harry countered. “Tom decided I showed a talent for
curse breaking when he saw how much I had done in my own mind, so I get to work
for what’s in those books. He has to get past what I do to the books I send
him, too, so don’t look at me like that.”
“You’re a curse breaker, too?” Remus blurted out, then paused and considered
what he knew before commenting again. “I can see that now that I think about
it…but still, Cub…please be very cautious…he may be trying to draw you down his
path and from everything I remember, he could be very friendly, charming and
persuasive when he wanted something.”
“Oh, I’m sure he is trying to seduce me into joining him. I’ve been betrayed by
Dumbledore just like he was at this age and I’ve broken free of the old man’s
influence, also just like he did. Like it or not, between that and our bond, he
isn’t wrong to try to take advantage of a golden opportunity. Unfortunately for
him, I’m not taking the hook and he keeps having to bait it back up with better
and better temptations.”
“You’re playing him?” Severus sat back with a look of complete disbelief on his
face. “You, a sixteen year old wizard, are stringing the Dark Lord along like
a…a…fan-girl?”
Harry snorted gracelessly and laughed before throwing a disappointed look in
the older man’s direction.
“Tom isn’t one to be played, and you know that, Severus. He knows my opinion of
him and what he does as well as I know his thoughts on my ideals. Our current
understanding is convenient for both of us and it will last only so long as it
continues to remain so.”
“Your understanding with Lord Voldemort…you two declared a binding truce,
didn’t you…?” Remus started to laugh when Harry threw a surprised look his way.
“So what does this little truce entail?”
Too surprised that Remus had figured it out so easily to obfuscate, Harry
replied candidly. “He doesn’t directly attack me or send someone after me and I
agreed to not go after him for as long as Dumbledore is a mutual problem. Once
that problem is resolved, we will re-evaluate the value of continuing our
agreement.”
“What of your friends and his Death Eaters? Surely you didn’t leave anything to
chance.” The potions master stared into laughing green eyes and shook his head
in open denial. “No protection for his people or your own? Harry…”
“Short of announcing our truce in a press conference, there was no way to
guarantee such an agreement would hold and none of his Inner Circle would go
for it. He’d have a mutiny on his hands. Besides, he figures I have to practice
on someone, so the Death Eaters are fair game if they get in my way and most of
them haven’t proven to be smart enough to avoid me when they see me. My friends
are smart enough to stay out of his way, unless I have greatly underestimated
my friends.”
“Well, when you put it that way, you do have a valid point. You’re the one who
has a habit of getting in his way, so they should be fine as long as they stay
out of sight when they follow you out after him…” Remus trailed off and shook
his head in a silent echo of Severus’ earlier action. “You’re all going to be
in the middle of this mess, so why extend the truce that far if you aren’t
going to join forces.”
Harry laughed aloud and shook his head.
“Remus said it perfectly. Tom and I are not allies; we are enemies who have
declared a truce to deal with a common enemy before returning to our own fight.
As for being careful, point taken, but don’t worry your selves any more than
you already do. I was serious when I said that we talk and argue quite a bit
and he does push me to study, which I tend to be lazy about…”
“Speaking of being lazy about your studies, how about we take a look at your
O.W.L. scores,” Remus suggested firmly. “You may not think they’re terribly
important now, but they might mean more to you in the future.”
Sitting back with a long suffering sigh, Harry gestured for the werewolf to go
ahead and read the heavy packet of parchment.
“You won’t be happy until you find out how I did, so go ahead. Hermione will
ask as soon as she finds out I finally got my mail, so I guess it would best if
I know.”
Opening the envelope with a building sense of anticipation, Remus scanned
through the packet and nearly choked when he hit the test scores.
“Bloody hell, Cub…” He read through again and announced Harry’s scores and hit
the high points of the attached letters. “Mr. Harry James Potter has achieved
an Acceptable in Astronomy, an Outstanding in Magical Creatures, an Exceeds
Expectations in Charms, a double Outstanding in…! How the hell did you get a
bloody double Outstanding in Defence? I didn’t know that was possible…”
“Defence is easy for me. I was teaching a study group in the subject, so the
group did a lot of research and learned a lot that wasn’t on the curriculum. Of
course, thanks to Umbitch, there wasn’t much on the curriculum anyway, so that
wasn’t much of a stretch…” The teen shrugged. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Cub. That’s brilliant, though. Okay, where was
I...ah! You got an Exceeds Expectations in Divination, an Exceeds Expectations
in Herbology…” Remus sniggered before reading off the next grade. “A Dreadful
in History of Magic and you got Exceeds Expectations in both Potions and
Transfiguration. Oh…here we go…an explanation on your Defence score. This score
counts as two OWLs and is thusly ranked due to the fact that you have scored
the highest Defence Against The Dark Arts score in approximately 50 years. The
previous record was held by Tom Marvolo Riddle, class of 1945. Your DADA work
is easily at NEWT standards and you should be very proud of this achievement.”
“I beat out Tom on his Defence score?! Oh, that’s one I’m going to have to
share!” Harry chortled his delight. “That’s great, though. Now ‘Mione won’t
ride my case so hard about my grades…maybe…”
“Minerva made note that she’s pleased with your scores and that your ban on
Quidditch has been lifted, Mr. candidate for Captain of Team Gryffindor,” Remus
teased gently. “If you go back, you might want to consider playing…you love to
fly and the Harry everyone knows would jump at the chance to be back on the
team.”
“I…you’re right,” the teen sighed. “If I go back to Hogwarts, then I’m trying
to run under Dumbledore’s notice and refusing to play Quidditch would send up
all sorts of red sparks. It’s not like I’d turn down the chance to fly circles
around Malfoy, anyway, so yeah, I’ll play.”
“Well, here are the letters so you can send your class selections to Minerva.
Maybe that way you’ll get your supply list before school starts.”
“Funny werewolf. Yeah.” Tucking the letters back into their envelope, Harry
refocused on the book he’d received from Tom and smiled a little. “I have
presents to worry about right now.” Moving on to another book shaped package,
he shook his head and opened it just as carefully. “Oh, I do love ‘Mione…an
updating copy of Wizengamot proceedings…this thing has the Minutes and
everything in it. Brilliant!”
“Hermione is a very astute young lady,” Remus mused.
“Don’t even begin to go back to your pranking on that subject, Harry,” Severus
stated firmly. “Or at least do so when I am not here to be caught in the middle
of your improper joking.”
“Oh, alright, if you’re going to be that way about it…” Opening a box of sweets
from Molly, a ‘care package’ from the Twins, a book on Seeker tactics from Ron
and Ginny, a book on the etiquette and responsibilities of Lordship over a
family from Neville and a necklace with a winged snake pendant on it from Luna,
Harry sat back with a happy smile. Everything he’d received meant something to
him and all of it would be used and loved. “They’re perfect.”
“The gifts or your friends?” Remus inquired with a wry chuckle.
“Hmm? Well, the gifts definitely are and my friends are most of the time, I
guess. No one can be perfect all of the time…that would be terribly boring,
don’t you think?” Carefully folding all of the wrapping paper, Harry pulled his
first present of the evening over and inspected it more closely. He opened it
before the two over-protective men could stop him.
“Pro vos est semita ut immortalis. Insisto dilgenter lest is cado a subter
supter vos.” Harry arched an eyebrow and looked up at his mentors. “Before you
is the path to immortality. Tread carefully lest it fall away from beneath you.
I did get the gist of that, right? I get the idea that the path disintegrated
right out from under good old Tom and he’s hoping I’ll succeed where he
failed.”
“With your bond being much more…intense, success for you could easily translate
to success for him, if only because his death might drag you down.”
Harry nodded quietly.
“I know. This one goes with some of the others Dobby got from Borgin…if it
makes you feel any better, I do have a whole book shelf dedicated to books I
won’t go near.”
“Yes, that does make me feel better,” Severus drawled sarcastically.
 
August_3rd,_Diagon_Alley,_Gringotts_Bank
10:00 A.M.
“Before we get into the wills and inheritance issues, I do have one thing to
ask,” Harry began. “I need to know if you know anything about rituals rooms and
how to restore them if they’ve been destroyed…”
“Destroyed? I sincerely doubt the room has been destroyed, but describe the
damage,” Ragnok replied calmly. “We have Rune Masters who are more than capable
of creating Ritual working rooms. I’m sure they can handle a few repairs.”
“The room is several inches larger on all sides, including the ceiling and
floor, as best I can tell,” Severus stated. “I can’t tell you too much about
the details because I get a headache every time I try to go inside. The damn
thing is still so heavily charged that I don’t know when we’ll be able to do
anything to it.” He turned to Harry. “It isn’t necessary for you to do this.
You’re the first person to use the bloody room in close to fifty years.”
“What if I need it again? What if we need to use it again?” Harry sighed softly
and shook his head. “It was my maturity that damaged the room. I’ll see to it
that it is useable again.”
Unable to argue in the face of Harry’s logic and reasons for why he wanted to
restore the room, the potions master nodded reluctantly and returned to his
conversation with Ragnok.
“The room has been stripped of carvings, leaving only smooth black stone on the
inside.”
“The home that contains the room, where is it located? There are many such
rooms that were crafted by the Goblins centuries ago and knowing which one it
is and if it is indeed one of ours, would make the restoration go much more
smoothly. That it is still charged is of great benefit to the Rune Master,
since he will use that power to fuel his work.” The grizzled old Chieftain sat
forward eagerly.
“The estate lies approximately sixty miles south of Hogsmeade and about the
same west of Balfarg,” Severus murmured quietly as if he feared saying even the
approximate location would allow everyone he didn’t want to know of it to find
it. “Prince Manor was in my mother’s family for a long time; as far as I know
it always was.”
“You called it Snape Manor before,” Harry commented dryly.
“Of course I did. I live there now, and I’ll call my home whatever I wish to
call it,” the older wizard grumbled. “Its proper name is still Prince Manor.”
“It is in the wild areas outside Balfarg, yes? In an area where the mists
rarely settle, even on hot, sunny days?” Ragnok went quiet and suddenly adopted
a very formal air when Severus nodded his agreement. “The Goblin people would
be willing to restore your ritual room if you would be willing to grant us the
use of it once, perhaps twice per year.”
“Why would you want to use it? It’s just a ritual room…isn’t it?” Severus was
getting an unexpected insight into the potential value of something he had
taken for granted and was left feeling a bit confused.
“Just a ritual room?” Ragnok chuckled roughly. “That room may well be one that
was designed as a holy place for my people; a temple, if you will. It is
located on a node, after all. If it is the room I believe it to be, then it was
carved from a single block of near flawless obsidian that was moved to that
place through great effort on the part of my people. It took the Rune Masters
nearly fifty years to complete the work to their satisfaction, or so our
manuscripts tell us. The manor house known to you as Prince or Snape Manor was
originally intended to be a much larger complex. Its construction was begun
around the time that Hogwarts’ first stones were being laid but it was never
completed. The partial structure was captured by the An Tiarna clan, a large
family of what we believe were Druids that came out of Ireland and it
apparently was eventually passed on through the Prince line. This is a
magnificent opportunity for both the goblins and yourself, Potions Master.”
“I…I don’t see why we couldn’t come to an arrangement regarding your use of the
room,” Severus stated, eyes a little wide as the information sank in. “When
would be the best time to do the restoration?”
“You say it is still too charged for you to comfortably enter the room?” Ragnok
beamed when the wizard rubbed his forehead and grimaced. Taking that as an
affirmative, the elder goblin nodded. “If you are amenable, then I can have a
Rune Master and helpers ready to go when we have concluded our business here
with Lord Potter. The work will take several days. Will it be an imposition to
have a small crew of Goblins in your home for that time?”
“It will be no imposition, Chieftain Ragnok. I’m sure Harry will appreciate the
chance to practice his accent on your crew.” Severus smirked at the green eyed
teen and shrugged.
“Ah, yes, Griphook tells me you have begun the sixth book in the series we gave
you. How is that coming along?” Ragnok arched one very hairy eyebrow at the
much changed teenager.
“It is going very well, muukuugaal sheklac.” Harry smiled with his teeth bared
in a classically goblin smile, then laughed when Griphook sat back and grinned
like a proud father. “I very much enjoyed having an insight into my ancestor’s
thoughts and opinions.”
“It is good to know your history, Harry. Shall we move on to the inheritance
potions now? I am certain you wish to know your blood.” Griphook grinned
toothily.
“Yes, I am definitely ready. What do I need to do?”
Laying out two large sheets of darker than usual parchment out on the large
table, Griphook nodded his satisfaction and slid two potions vials and a
slender, sharp looking blade across to the young heir.
“These two vials have very specific purposes. One will give us a complete
family tree for your blood lineage as well as showing highlighted lines where
you may have inherited due to a terminating line. The other potion will list
out your specific eligibilities so we know which heir rings and wills to make
available to you.”
Harry fidgeted eagerly and sat forward to pull the two vials and the blade more
within reach.
“Okay. I’m following you so far, although I don’t understand how a potion can
do all of that…”
“Magic, Harry,” Ragnok teased through a wicked looking grin.
“Right…” Harry sighed.
“You will need to open each vial and let seven drops of your blood fall into
the potion before recapping it. Keep the vials in your hands because we will be
waiting for them to grow warm. Once they are comfortably heated in your hand,
pour each one separately onto one of the two sheets of parchment. After that,
we simply have to wait for the potion to run its course.” Griphook sat back and
sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.
“We will call for food once the potions have been poured,” Ragnok declared.
“Nothing more can be done until they are complete.”
“Even though you know I’m the Potter heir, we still have to wait until this is
done?” Harry frowned.
“Your mother requested this process her self and stated that no further
proceedings should be allowed until these two potions had been used.”
“Oh…and I thought I was getting to be a little paranoid…” Laughing a little,
Harry shrugged and uncapped the potions. Holding them in his right hand, he
offered his left to Severus with the blade held between his thumb and
forefinger. “Would you mind doing the honours, Severus? It will be quicker and
less messy this way.”
Grasping the younger wizard’s hand, Severus made a careful cut on the pad of
the teen’s ring finger so he could still squeeze it for more blood using his
thumb. Releasing his grip, he nodded for him to proceed.
“Seven drops?” Harry confirmed and carefully added his blood to the first
potion before moving on to the second. Each drop hit with a barely audible hiss
that drew the attention of both goblins and older wizards, their eyes widening
as the potions rapidly darkened and seemed to swirl with an inner fire.
Once the potions were capped, Remus sneezed and rubbed his nose, amber eyes
studying Harry intently. Sneezing again, he gave voice to his curiosity.
“Did you know your blood was poisonous?”
“It is?” Harry stared at the werewolf with a rather confused look on his face.
“What are you going on about, Moony?”
“Your blood smells of poison, Imp, strong poison. Maybe we should have that
tested to make sure you’re not going to have any problems further down the
line,” Remus pointed out with a slightly less amused look and then noted the
way his cub seemed to be warming his hands on the vials he was rolling back and
forth between his palms. “Are they warm yet?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, quite hot, actually…like a cup of tea…I should pour them now, I
suppose.” Looking to Griphook for confirmation, Harry poured one onto the
parchment on his left and then poured the other on the right hand parchment.
“So, now we eat?” he asked hopefully. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to have
you tell me my blood smells poisonous. It just wasn’t something I noticed. I
did dream that the Basilisk was in my blood, so…”
“Yes, now we eat and have the vials properly destroyed so that no one can use
your blood against you.” Griphook interrupted as gently as any goblin was
likely to do and shot a glance at his chieftain.
“That is correct,” Ragnok agreed and filed the potion’s reaction away as one
more bit of interesting information about the young wizard sitting a few seats
down from him.
“Relax, gentlemen. This could take a little while.”
 
Glancing over the parchments once he was done eating, Harry found his name at
the bottom of the family tree and was soon thoroughly engrossed in his study of
the convoluted document.
“Dad’s family looks pretty normal,” he whispered, fingers tracing lines of
descent as he muttered to him self. Oblivious to the amusement he was causing
his companions, he continued to ignore them completely. “Mom’s mum didn’t
marry…naughty girl…oh, hold on now…no, no, NO! No way am I dealing with this
right now!”
“No way what, Cub?” Stifling his chuckles over Harry’s scandalized and almost
angry look, Remus tried to look encouraging and only managed to set the teen
off.
“I refuse to acknowledge the situation right now,” Harry stated in a flustered
tone and rolled the chart up tightly. “If you can figure out what I’m going
nutters about once we get home, then I’ll talk about it, but not a moment
sooner. I think I’ll have a look at the other parchment…it has to be less
traumatizing…”
He tucked the genealogy away into his outer cloak and focused on the second
parchment with Ragnok and Griphook looking on. Glancing up, he caught their
curious, almost eager expressions and groaned.
“Am I going to hate this, too?”
“We have no way of knowing that, young one. Why don’t you find out for
yourself?” Ragnok suggested.
“Yeah, that would be the easiest way to handle it…” Harry pulled the other
parchment over and closed his eyes in a search for calm before opening them and
starting in on the less intricate document.
 
Titles_and_Bloodlines
Sire
Lord of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter
Bloodlines - Human Wizard
Lord of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor
Bloodlines - Human Wizard
Dame
Lord of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Evans
Bloodlines – Human Wizard, Bloodline Obscured
Heir to The Exalted Line of Myrridin
Bloodlines – Bloodline Unknown
Secondary Sire
Lord of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Bloodlines – Human Wizard, Bloodline Obscured
Lord of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin
Bloodlines – Human Wizard
 
Secondary Sire
Bloodlines – Human Wizard, Lycanthrope species: Wolf.
Secondary Sire
Heir to the Noble House of Prince
Bloodlines – Human Wizard, Dark Sidhe
 
Descendent of the Ancient Serpent Xerestes
Descendent of the Ancient Phoenix Fawkes
 
Legal_Documents
The Will of James Malachi Potter and Lily Marie Evans-Potter (Returned to
Pending Status)
The Will of Sirius Orion Black (Pending)
The Will of Ambrosias Reginald Evans (Pending)
The Will of Thomas Marvolo Riddle (Pending)
 
“What does it mean to have an obscured bloodline?” Harry asked as calmly as
possible. “I understand unknown bloodline well enough, although I think that
disturbs me more than the other option…”
“You have an unknown? For which of us? It could be the werewolf,” Remus
suggested.
“Nope, the lycanthrope species, werewolf is listed quite clearly,” Harry mused.
“The two that are obscured are in the Evans and Black lines. The unknown is in
the Myrridin line. That’s all the Myrridin line says…Bloodline unknown. The two
that are obscured at least say Human Wizard first. Apparently Severus is part
Dark Sidhe, whatever the bloody hell that means…other than the fact that I am
also partly Dark Sidhe...I guess.”
“An obscured line usually occurs when a family has gone to great lengths,
usually through blood magic, to hide evidence of non-human bloodlines in their
heritage. Your Ministry wouldn’t even see that notation. You are seeing it
because we have a much more powerful potion that is very focused on ferreting
such things out.” Ragnok grinned at the stunned potions master and offered an
explanation to the question of his own interesting discovery.
“There were believed to be two groups of Eldar, or ancient elves. The Sidhe, or
Light elves and the Dark Sidhe…dark cousins to the beautiful, nature and music
loving Sidhe. The Dark Sidhe were drawn to dark places, much like we goblins
prefer our caverns and tunnels and had a strong affinity to the darker aspects
of magic. They were usually sable to black in hair colour and had very dark
eyes. It would seem that the apple did not fall far from the potion master’s
tree.”
Harry sat back and studied a lightly blushing Severus Snape while he
contemplated what the Black’s and Evans’ could have wanted to hide so badly.
There weren’t any bloodlines that were that awful, were there?
“I can kind of understand it with the Blacks and their ‘always pure’ thing, but
what would the Evans’ be hiding? Is there a way to find out?” He grinned at the
discomfited potions master. “Don’t let it bother you, Severus. You only had one
thing hiding in your woodpile. I have at least two that may have been
embarrassing or bad enough for the Evans and Blacks to try and hide them the
hard way…”
“Of course there’s a way to find out,” Griphook replied with a sheepish look.
“You wait and see if anything manifests that can be attributed to a magical
bloodline. Wizards don’t make a lot of sense to goblins when it comes to what
is embarrassing, so I can’t be much help there, either.”
“Great. I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Harry sat and fumed while
the goblins went about the business of organizing the wills that he needed to
hear. He looked over at Remus and Severus and sighed heavily. “I’m tired of
asking why I don’t get to be normal. I’m done trying to be something I’m not.
If they,” he gestured towards the outside and the rest of the wizarding
population. “Can’t handle who I am, they can fix the rest of their nasty little
problems on their own.”
“Cub…” Remus trailed off into a sigh when he saw how serious Harry was about
his comments, at least for now.
“Did you look at the wills that are listed?” Severus handed the page back to
Harry having not really paid much attention to their conversation once he’d
seen one entry in particular.
“Obviously not if you’re looking at me like I’m going to explode,” Harry
replied sarcastically. “Oh…that’s got to be wrong. Tom is alive and kicking. If
anyone would know, it’s me. I can’t be the Heir of Slytherin either…Tom’s the
heir.” He shook his head and frowned at the offending parchment.
“Which will are you disputing, Harry? They only show up if the person who wrote
the will has, indeed, died.” Ragnok eyed the one Harry was pointing to and
arched one bushy brow. “Mr. Riddle died on October 31st, 1981. Tell me how he
supposedly came back to the living and maybe I can clarify things for you just
a bit.”
“There was a ritual…umm, bone of the father, flesh of the servant which was
Peter Pettigrew and blood of the enemy forcibly taken, which was mine.”
“Ah. Well, that ritual could, indeed, have given Voldemort a new body,” Ragnok
agreed. “But it couldn’t have given him the same body that was his the night he
died in 1981. If nothing else, he had no part of his mother in the mix, so he
is actually more related to you and this Pettigrew than his original self. Tom
Riddle as the wizarding world once knew him is quite indisputably dead.”
“Can I have a piece of parchment and quill? And some ink? I have to work
something out.” Harry accepted the requested items and began to quickly write
out several points on the page, only to return and add notes with a building
sense of excitement. Sitting back, he started to laugh uproariously. Jumping up
out of his chair, he pumped both fists at the ceiling and whooped out his joy.
“I’m free!!!”
Picking up the parchment, Severus paled as soon as he began to read – he knew
what this was. He had, after all, heard it all those many years ago. Getting
past the prophecy itself, he actually read Harry’s notes and could find no way
to refute his logic. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth before his own
harsh laugh joined Harry’s. Handing the parchment on to Remus, he sat back to
watch Harry enjoying his sense of reprieve and his own freedom to be able to
laugh.
 
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
(Okay, this is pretty obvious. On to the next line…)
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
(I know Dumbledore had to have focused on Order members for this, and there
were apparently only two pregnant women who had defied Tom three times, so it
narrowed the field down considerably for him. Taking into account the rivalry
between Tom and Albus, it kind of makes sense even now that an Order member
would be the one, too. As far as the date, well, July 31st is when the month
dies. Aren’t I just the lucky birthday boy?)
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark
Lord knows not...
(Lightning bolt curse scar, assumed as meaning that Tom had marked me as his
equal, check. Power from an obscure and ancient ritual performed by Mum and the
gang being something Tom didn’t know about, check.)
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the
other survives...
(Tom cast Avada Kedavra, it bounced off me and hit him. I lived. He floated
around as a ghost for over 10 years and last I checked there is only one way to
become a ghost…you have to die. Point being, he's passed on! He ceased to be!
He kicked the bucket! He became an Ex-Dark Lord!)
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh
month dies...
(After that it just gets repetitive. This prophecy was fulfilled October 31st,
1981. Take a look at it. Think it over. I have a feeling you’ll see that
Dumbledore is the only one still clinging to this old thing as an excuse to
make me fight his war for him a second time.)
 
Remus felt like he couldn’t breathe when he first realized he was reading the
prophecy that had led to the deaths of two of his best friends and the misery
that he, Sirius, Severus and Harry had lived through during the following
years. Sucking in a deep lungful of air, he realized his Cub was very likely
right – he was free of this prophecy’s hold. It was dead and gone.
“Cub…are you sure? Voldemort is still alive…”
“Voldemort is, yes,” Harry agreed. “But if I understand Ragnok correctly, then
Tom Marvolo Riddle died the same night my parents did. The spirit may be the
same, but the man is not.”
“For once I have no desire to refute what you call logic, Harry. If you’re
content to lay the prophecy to bed, then I am more than happy to do the same.”
Severus shrugged when Remus threw him a surprised look. “Do you want it to
still be active?”
“No, no, not at all…I just want to be sure. Albus obviously hasn’t seen it the
way you have, Cub.”
“That old bastard and his damned bird club have made my entire life a living
hell because they’ve been running around thinking a sixteen plus year old
prophecy is still waiting to be fulfilled!” Harry declared as he composed
himself and returned to his seat. “When the time is right, he is going to pay
for what he’s done if I don’t kill him first. For the first time since he told
me about that thrice damned prophecy, I feel like I can breathe again. I mean,
I know that Tom and I are going to have to finish what was started between us,
but it’s just us now. No more prophecy hanging…Ragnok…why are you looking at me
like that? Is there a prophecy I don’t know about yet?”
“There is a prophecy,” the elderly goblin admitted reluctantly. “But it is very
personal to the goblin people. We do not permit our prophecies to be shared out
side…”
“Does it say I have to kill someone for you?”
“There is only a Chosen child who will bring about great change for our world,
young Lord. It does not mention any specific actions or requirements on how
that change is made to happen.”
“I can live with that, Ragnok. I just hope things don’t go badly,” Harry mused.
“Things have a way of turning strange when I get involved…”
“Isn’t that just a little bit of an underestimation there?” Remus asked under
his breath and looked at the four scrolls with no small amount of personal
trepidation. “Here you go, Cub. Run now and you just might get a shot at being
normal. Hang around and you’ll be Lord Potter, along with several other
titles…”
“I already told you my opinion on that, Moony. I’m done with trying to have
what everyone else calls a normal life. This is normal for me…” Harry trailed
off as he realized he was about to hear his parent’s will.
“But this is the hard part, too…the hardest part ever…I get to hear their words
and never know the voices that should have spoken to me…I get to have the
wealth and titles without ever having had what would have been worth a hundred
times more…” Swiping at his eyes, the young Lord fought for his composure and
finally won the battle. Letting out a slow breath, he shook himself and focused
on his companions and gave them only a cool, disinterested mask that would have
made any Slytherin proud.
Seeing that mask hurt Severus in a way he couldn’t express even as it did,
indeed, make him proud. He wore a similar look himself when all he wanted was
for Harry to be able to cry for his parents and Sirius and everything else he
had lost during his short life. This young man would rarely, if ever, have the
luxury of being the vulnerable boy they had just barely gotten a glimpse of and
he knew there would eventually be a price to pay for those who had made that
truth a reality.
“Which is first, the wills or the rings?” the potions master asked quietly.
“The rings come first,” Griphook explained. “Despite what the potion shows, it
is the heir ring that makes the final determination about who will take
Lordship over a family. If a ring causes you pain or makes any sort of
defensive reaction like stinging or burning, take it off immediately. We will
still read any applicable parts of the will that might apply to a descendent,
but not the Lord himself.”
“Okay, so this determines my level of inheritance as well as my, what, level of
responsibility to the family?” Harry tilted his head to one side inquisitively.
“That is very astute, young one. You are correct. If you are accepted by all
six rings, then you will have responsibility as Lord to a great number of
people.” Ragnok studied the barely sixteen year old boy who met his gaze openly
and without fear and nodded. “We will know shortly.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I have that saving people thing…okay. Which one do I
try on first?”
“This is the first. I will tell you which one it is once it has accepted or
denied you,” Griphook stated. “That way you cannot bias your own reactions.”
“Alright…” A gentle rush of power burst through Harry’s body as he slid the
first ring onto the first finger of his left hand. Gasping softly, eyes closed,
he basked in the welcoming sensation that washed over him as soon as the ring
was completely on his finger. Soaking it all in with a contented sigh, he
settled into a much more relaxed posture than he had been in since arriving at
Gringotts that day.
“Wow. That was better than a Molly-hug…”
Griphook chuckled and placed another ring box in front of the young Lord.
“The rings tend to be very welcoming to their rightful Heir. That was the
Potter ring and here is the next one.” He threw a sardonic grin at the two men
who were hovering so protectively near the young Noble.
Reassured by the close presence of Remus and Severus, Harry opened his eyes and
slid on the second ring. Greeted with another rush of power, this one dark and
secretive, he shuddered delicately as it brought to mind the forbidden
pleasures of the Dark Revel and Dark Magic in general.
“The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black,” he whispered and licked his lips.
“Talk about dark power…” He savoured the familiar, definitely sensual feelings
this power evoked, and then reluctantly opened his eyes once more. “That felt
naughty…”
Chortling his amusement, Remus just shook his head and shrugged.
“I somehow think that Sirius would have said something like that had he been
given the opportunity to try the ring on.”
“You think so, eh? Cool. Next?”
“Incorrigible,” Severus muttered. “So, that’s Potter and Black. Which family is
this next one?”
“This is the next signet,” Griphook replied. “Their coat of arms uses the Dire
Wolf, as opposed to a natural Wolf.”
“Dire Wolf, huh? Okay.” The ring went on and Harry felt something inside
himself shatter, followed by a scalding hot wave of power so dense he didn’t
even have a chance to cry out in surprise before he was slumped unconscious on
the in his chair, body sprawled partway on the table.
“Harry!” Remus and Severus moved towards the incapacitated teenager and were
stopped by Ragnok’s urgent words.
“No! Do not touch him! His magic has been unbound in some way and he could hurt
you accidentally,” Ragnok explained. “Surely you felt the binding shatter?”
“Is that what that was? I heard a sound, like breaking glass,” Severus
murmured. “Why would someone put such a powerful binding on a child’s magic?”
“It may not have been one that was specifically placed on him,” Ragnok replied.
“There are special gifts and powers available only to the head of certain
family lines. The Evan’s line apparently carries an extra reserve of power that
can only be unlocked by the ring when one assumes Lordship.”
“So he really is a pureblood. Isn’t this going to raise all sorts of fun
issues,” Remus whispered.
“Apparently so…” Harry stirred and opened his eyes to slits. “Mmrph, I feel
like I got hit by the bloody Knight Bus…what happened?”
“A powerful block on your magical reserves was shattered when you donned the
Evan’s crest,” Griphook answered. “It looks like you are, indeed, a pureblood
wizard.”
“I can’t wait for the chance to smack Draco with that one…but it’ll have to
wait. Damn the luck. Oh well. Next?”
“This ring we waited for until you had been accepted by the Evan’s crest,”
Ragnok replied. “Do not bother to sit up, young Lord. This ring may cause a
similar reaction if it acknowledges you.”
Harry eyed the signet, the eagle suspiciously reminding him of something he’d
seen during history class about World War two. He put it on and clawed at the
table’s smooth surface as his back bowed and further bindings shattered. The
rush of power that this ring filled him up with felt at least as dark as the
power from the Black ring and left him with the intoxicating rush he had come
to associate with his more daring adventures in flight. Panting softly, he
blinked up into the faces of two very concerned wizards.
“Who did that one belong to? I feel like I just pulled off the best Wronski
Feint ever…”
“That was Lord Evan’s personal ring…”
Still filled with the dark rush of the ring’s effect on him, Harry turned a
cold, snake-like glare on Griphook before frowning at him with a slow shake of
his head.
“Now is not the time to play coy, Griphook. Yes, it was the personal ring of
the late Lord Evans, but only once he was better known as The Dark Lord
Grindelwald.”
Griphook sighed expressively and nodded after sharing a glance with Ragnok.
“You are, of course, correct. I did not know if you wished to share this
information with your godfathers. It is not a commonly known fact that Lord
Evans and Grindelwald were one and the same man.”
“Yeah. I can appreciate that, I guess.” Lying passively against the cool
surface of the table, Harry searched his body and magic for any sign of injury
or threat and found none. “This getting knocked on my ass by these rings is not
cool. What did that one do to me?” he asked in a slightly growlier tone than
usual. Despite feeling incredibly energized and wide awake, something told him
it would be best to stay where he was until the buzzing sensation in his core
had faded somewhat. “I feel like I have a hive of angry hornets running around
in my core.”
“Apparently the Evans line had several latent power reserves on top of the
obscured magical heritage that was bound until you donned the rings. Because
these heritages are obscured or unknown to our magic, we have no way of telling
you what has been unlocked and if you should expect anything from them in the
future.”
Ragnok sounded decidedly unhappy about the whole issue and made that fact
known. “We will research into these issues and let you know if we are able to
find anything. This is the first time we have encountered such a lack in our
resources and I will see to it that that oversight is corrected.”
“That would be very good,” Harry replied and stretched until his back popped.
“Okay, that was four rings. I have how many left?”
“Just two more, Cub. Do you want to wait?” Remus shoved his hands in his
pockets to curb the temptation to touch his Cub to reassure himself that he was
truly unharmed. As disturbing as it was to find out that Harry was the heir to
Grindelwald, it was a discussion that could wait until they got home and had
time to consider all of the implications with a clear and open mind.
“No, let’s get it over with. I’m not moving until my core calms down anyway.”
The young Lord turned his head to look at the goblins and sighed. “Next?”
Griphook shook his head and carried the last two ring boxes over to Harry.
“Here is the next ring.”
“Okay. It should be interesting to see what happens with this one,” Harry
mused.
“Hopefully nothing as interesting as the last two,” Severus drawled, obsidian
eyes full of nervous energy. Between his discovery of his own chequered
heritage and the reactions these rings were causing, he was certain he was
going to have grey hair before they were done for the day.
“I second that motion,” Remus muttered.
Ignoring his mentor’s grumblings for the moment, the green eyed teen slid the
Gryffindor ring on and arched a little as his pulse raced and his skin flushed
with the adrenalin rush of excitement and danger so very much like what he had
felt during the events in the Department of Mysteries.
“So much for bloody well calming down,” he muttered under his breath and tried
– uselessly – to come down off of the high the ring had left him with. “The
last one is Slytherin, right?”
“That is correct, Harry” Griphook offered the ring with a slight grimace of
concern. He had never heard of a wizarding heir having so much difficulty with
the gifts the rings unlocked and prior to developing a tentative friendship
with Harry, he didn’t think he would have cared how bad it was. He offered the
ring despite his concern because there was nothing else he could do.
Harry eyed the graceful, serpentine S that was Salazar’s crest before sliding
the Slytherin ring onto the third finger on his left hand. He relaxed visibly
and sighed his contentment as a cooling calm settled over him, leaving him with
the vaguely remembered sensation of being cradled in the coils of the Basilisk
during his maturity.
“Oh, that’s so much better…the buzzing isn’t so bad now…”
“So Merlin’s line doesn’t have a ring, then?” Remus sat forward, his curiosity
and relief clearly evident.
“No, Myrridin’s line does not have a ring. There are other methods of proving
such an inheritance, thus making a ring nothing more than a pretty adornment,”
Ragnok stated as if he preferred it that way. “We still have the wills to
attend to, Harry. Are you able to continue?”
“If I can survive a Basilisk at twelve, I can handle a few wills,” Harry
declared and slowly sat up. Shifting to stand briefly without assistance, he
popped his back again and was just settling into his seat when the Goblins
regained their composure.
“You fought a Basilisk at the age of twelve?! We had not heard of this battle,”
Ragnok stated. “Your battles against Voldemort and the trials of the Tri-Wizard
tournament we learned of through various sources. Tell us of the death of the
great serpent?”
“A friend of mine was possessed by Tom Riddle’s diary and he made her open the
Chamber of Secrets,” Harry murmured and let that memory take him deep inside
himself. “Another friend discovered it was a Basilisk and we…Ron and I went
down into the Chamber along with Lockhart…there was a cave in and I was the
only one who went on.” He shook his head and sighed. “She was a beautiful
snake…but Tom already had control of her and she was trying to kill me. Fawkes
clawed her eyes out so she couldn’t kill or petrify me and the Sorting Hat gave
me the Sword of Gryffindor.”
“Was it a young serpent?” Griphook asked eagerly. There wasn’t a goblin alive
who didn’t cheer over the death of a Basilisk. Just one running loose in their
tunnels could mean the death of an entire clan… “Was it a big one?”
“Young? No, she was at least sixty feet long and over a thousand years old. I
stabbed her through the roof of her mouth with the sword when she came in to
bite me. As it was, she still almost killed me,” Harry stated and drew an
eighteen inch long, gently curved piece of what looked to be ivory that was
stained at both ends with dark black and the brownish red of blood out of his
robes. Laying it on the table, he let his fingers linger along its length in a
regretful caress before he spoke again and bared his right bicep so all four
could see the smooth, white, perfectly round scar the fang had given him.
“This fang pierced my upper arm and hit the bone as she died. If Fawkes hadn’t
been there to cry in the wound, I would have died. I used the broken fang to
stab Riddle’s diary and his memory was destroyed.”
Remus stared at the innocuous looking piece of ivory and shuddered back into
his seat. He’d heard the story and seen the scar, but nothing made it as real
as seeing that fang and smelling the venom. Blinking, he raised his gaze to
Harry’s face and filed his curiosity about the similarity in the scents of his
blood and the basilisk venom for another time. A glance at Severus showed the
snarky man to be just as visibly affected by this tangible presentation of
evidence.
“Most impressive,” Ragnok murmured, eyes filled with a new level of respect.
This young man was not like the usual wizards they had to deal with – he was a
warrior and that was something any goblin could understand and appreciate. “Why
do you mourn the serpent?”
“I ama Parselmouth. If she hadn’t been controlled by Tom, I might have gained a
powerful ally…maybe even another friend…”
“Ah. Very well.” Ragnok clapped his hands together once and picked up the first
will. “As primary beneficiary for these wills, you are entitled to hear them in
their entirety, but if you would prefer it, I can read only that which pertains
to you and give you copies to review when you have the time to do so.”
“I’d prefer the short version for now and I’d like to have copies,” Harry
confirmed and tried to settle in as comfortably as possibly for the morbid
business of four will readings. The Potter will didn’t hit him as hard as he
had expected, but knowing that he now had letters from both parents to read
when he returned home left him with a tight feeling in his chest that refused
to go away.
Hearing that Remus had been left a substantial amount of galleons and a cottage
just outside of Hogsmeade made him smile at the werewolf even as his blood
boiled over at this blatant display of Dumbledore’s duplicity and disregard for
the well being of others. “Did you ever discover for certain if it was
Dumbledore who messed about with my parent’s will?”
“We did, which is why it was returned to pending status. The goblin that
processed the request accepted a large sum for his services and has been tried
by our council. He was put to death,” Ragnok replied. “We are still gathering
information on Dumbledore’s various activities. It is a mystery to me how he
has managed to remain unnoticed for these last fifteen years. I admit that he
is subtle, but even the most subtle will eventually make mistakes or errors in
judgement…”
“We wish we knew for certain, Ragnok. Merlin knows, we would love to know all
of the details,” Severus replied. “I would hate to think that the wizarding
people are such trusting sheep that they wouldn’t notice…but it appears they
may well be…and he has clearly begun to make those very errors or we wouldn’t
have found out this much.”
“Even the goblins did not notice the more specific details until a certain
young man started asking a lot of uncomfortable questions, but yes, you are
quite correct. We are able to find these errors now that we know to look for
them,” Griphook murmured. “Are we ready to move on to the next will?”
“Sirius,” Harry whispered and nodded for Ragnok to continue. The wry and often
ribald humour of the dead Marauder’s final words made Harry smile and added to
the sparse list of memories he had of the wild and unpredictable man. Like his
parent’s will, this one washed over him gently and he wondered if he might have
a breakdown later once everything sank in. Right now none of it seemed nearly
as devastating as he had thought it would be when the subject originally came
up. He noted the details of the Evan’s will and was soon reeling from the sheer
volume of information and money involved in the three wills he’d heard so far.
“Great Merlin, please tell me there isn’t much more,” Harry groaned and threw a
pleading look at both of the goblins. “I’ve lost count of how many vaults I’m
supposed to go look at as it is…”
“Oh, stop your whining and deal with it, brat,” Severus growled at the now
grinning teenager. “It’s only twelve vaults and more money than you could spend
with all of your little friends helping for the rest of your life.”
“Is that all? Well, that isn’t so bad…” Harry sighed and stretched gracefully.
“What did I get from Tom and how exactly did I wind up inheriting from him? It
still doesn’t make sense to me why I would be listed as his heir.”
“Well, let me read you the will and then you might understand a little better.”
Getting a nod from Harry, Ragnok opened the last scroll and began to read.
Before he had gotten too far into it, the young wizard had already started
laughing and he had to pause to let him calm down. “Are you alright, Harry?”
“Oh yeah, I’m wonderful, but Tom is going to be pissed as all hell when he
finally realizes that he can’t get to his vault because a certain annoying
someone has inherited it away from him.” Grinning like a maniac, Harry wiped
away tears of laughter and sighed. “What an unfortunate event for Tom…I’m
sorry, Ragnok. Go right ahead and finish what you have to read. I promise to
control myself.”
Still grinning, the green eyed wizard contemplated how to break the news to Tom
without starting a too big of a fight. As it stood, he was fairly certain they
might have something new to fight about in the near future. Itwas clever to
will everything to the next Heir of Slytherin in case he did die. At least then
he had some idea of what kind of person might get the vault even though he was
intending to be the one to inherit from him self…
Finally done with the wills and all of the attendant paperwork, Harry sat
forward and pulled the Basilisk fang forward so he could feel it in his hands.
“Do you have a listing of all of the people that need to be contacted now that
I’ve become the Lord of four major families and if so, can you send out
notifications to them so I can get a feel for how many I need to arrange
meetings with?”
“For a fee, we can do that and arrange for space for you to hold your meetings
should it become an issue,” Ragnok stated. “Shall we say five galleons per
notification?”
“How many notifications?”
“A minimum of one hundred, possibly a considerable number more depending on how
far back you wish us to go and depending on how many are still alive to receive
a notification,” Ragnok explained.
“What do you mean by how far I want you to go back?” Harry sat forward, eyes
full of curiosity.
“How far back in your relations,” Griphook clarified. “Cousins, nieces and
nephews…how far back?”
“Oh…” Glancing over at his mentors and godfathers, Harry arched an eyebrow at
them. “Does cousin seem far enough to go back, reasonably speaking? Should I
limit it to first cousin…second?”
“First or second cousin should give you anyone closely enough related to have
any interest in the family politics,” Remus commented.
“And it keeps you from bringing in half of the wizarding world,” Severus
drawled with an amused smirk. “Limit it to first cousin if you’re smart.”
“First cousin it is, then,” Harry stated to Ragnok. “Unless they are a member
of a terminating line and have no one else to turn to for familial support.”
“Very well. That gives us our lines within which to work,” Ragnok stated. “This
could easily be more than several hundred notifications, however.”
“Make it ten per notification, then and send me a list of who has been
contacted,” Harry stated. “Since I don’t have to worry about anyone finding out
who the new Lord is with it in your capable hands, it is well worth the
galleons.”
Smiling broadly, both goblins nodded approvingly. Ragnok chuckled and shook his
grizzled, bald head.
“Very good, young Lord. Now that we have all of these stuffy formalities out of
the way, would you like to see your vaults?”
“That would be brilliant! Will you be taking us down in the cart or do I get to
torment another young goblin?” Harry grinned at Griphook who just laughed
roughly and shrugged.
“I will accompany you, Harry. We will be going deep into the catacombs for
several of the vaults and only your account manager can get you there. Follow
me, gentlemen.” Griphook stood and waited for the Harry and his companions by
the door.
“Are you going to accompany your ward to the vaults, potions master, or do you
wish to take the Rune Master to your home so that he can get started?” Ragnok
asked with a toothy grin.
“I think my sanity would be best preserved by going home and letting your Rune
Master get to work while these two go nosing about in dusty old tomes,” Severus
replied. “I’m ready whenever your restoration crew is ready.”
 
August_3rd,_Snape_Manor
2:30 P.M.
Leading the stranger than usual looking goblin Rune Master and helpers through
the floo to his living room, Severus shook his head and waited until everyone
was present before leading the way downstairs.
“The room is quite large, so I have no way of knowing how long it will take for
you to complete your work, Rune Master Ghakar. There are several rooms here, in
the dungeons that I can easily convert for your use, or you may stay in any of
the guest rooms upstairs. As for food and drink, call for Millie and she will
make sure you get what you need.”
“Show us to the nearest room here in the dungeons so that I can make it to our
liking, then I will be getting to work,” Ghakar replied with a very toothy
smile.
Nodding with a bemused shrug, Severus led the goblins to the room across the
hall and watched the Rune Master drop what looked to be small stones around the
room. Once the small creature was done, he returned to the doorway and held out
both hands towards the centre of the room.
“Alegakhaan ach kokaan!” he growled out and Severus felt the power that left
the goblin Rune Master an instant before the stones began to grow and take on
recognizable shapes and forms. There were beds, tables, and everything else a
goblin could want, or so the wizard assumed.
“You’ll let me know if you need anything else, correct?” Feeling useless at
this juncture, Severus had to offer his help in some way.
“Of course, Potions Master. Ghakar will make this the greatest ritual room ever
seen by human eyes…just keep that other one out of it if he’s going to be
having another damn power surge. A third time might be one time too many to
carve. If he’s going to do it, send him to Gringotts so we can channel the
excess into our defences instead of having it go to waste charging wards on a
house.”
“Um, right…well, let me open the room for you so you can get started.” Unsure
whether to laugh or be offended by the goblin’s manner, Severus crossed the
hall again, laid his hand in the middle of an intricate circle and muttered the
trigger to open the door.
“Nerull daarelaan! You weren’t playing games when you said it had been
destroyed, human! This is perfect! I can work for days off the charge that is
still in the stone. Go do whatever you do, Potions Master. I will alert you
when I am done.”
“Right. I’ll do that.” He had been picturing an evening of undisturbed reading
in front of the fire in the library with a large glass of brandy for some time
and now that the ideal moment was suddenly within his grasp, he wasn’t about to
let it escape.
 
August_3rd,_Gringotts,_The_Vaults
2:30 P.M.
Whooping his delight over the wild cart ride down to the Potter vault, Harry
laughed and helped a slightly disoriented werewolf out once they had come to a
stop.
“You okay there, Moony?”
“I think I will be once everything stops whirling around,” Remus muttered and
swallowed carefully before looking around to see where he was. “Is that the
Potter vault?”
“Yes it is, Mr. Lupin.” Griphook paused a few feet from the door and beckoned
impatiently for Harry to come over and join him. “I can go no further without
you, Harry.”
“Oh, sorry, Griphook. What do I need to do?”
“Place your hand over the crest and say agnosco verus hereditas per cruor.” The
goblin watched closely as the Potter heir did as instructed and twitched when
the door cut him to sample his blood. The rumbling sound that followed brought
a huge, toothy grin to his ugly little face. “One down,” he quipped.
“Ow,” the teenager complained quietly before being distracted by the now open
vault he stood in front of. “Hey, Remus, come take a look around. You might
spot something important that wouldn’t mean a damn thing to me.”
“Important in what way?” Remus asked as he wandered forward to do as invited.
“Emotionally, magically…you know what I mean?”
“Um, definitely emotionally important…definitely magically…see if you can find
any research notes or personal journals or anything like that, okay?”
“Gotcha, Cub.” Remus wandered away to see if he could find anything of
importance while Harry found himself drawn to the section holding everything
from dress robes to battle robes in some kind of stasis field. Looking
everything over, he couldn’t resist a little bit of laughter.
“What is it, Cub?”
“Oh, I just thought of a quiet way to make a very loud statement when we
finally hit the political arena. Don’t worry. It’s all about the clothes.”
Dragging Remus out shortly thereafter with a shrunken trunk full of the books
and other items the werewolf had chosen and a few that Harry hadn’t been able
to resist, the young Lord sighed. “Which one is next and how close is it?”
“Just follow me, Harry. The Black and Evans vaults are very close by. We’ll
have to go even deeper into the catacombs to get to the older vaults belonging
to Gryffindor, Slytherin and Myrridin and I will take you by the Riddle vault
on the way back up since it is so close to the surface.”
Following the goblin with mixed motions of resignation and eager anticipation,
Harry spent a brief time in the main Black vault and scarcely longer in the
Evans vault. He knew he would need to return and explore all of them
thoroughly, but for now, he just wanted to get through them all so he could get
to the wand maker and go home.
Keenly aware of his Cub’s mood through his scent and his actions, Remus focused
on trying to distract Harry and wasn’t nearly as discombobulated by the next
cart ride. Seeing the vaults of two Founders, even if it was strictly from the
outside, filled him with a sense of awe that he was glad Harry seemed to share.
Stepping up to Myrridin’s vault after another, shorter roller coaster ride,
Harry felt a deep sense of relief and welcome wash over him as a urgent pull he
only then became aware of urged him to lay his hands on the vault’s simple,
unadorned door.
“Ego sum prognatus draconis cruor,” he whispered with no idea where the words
came from. His next awareness was of being inside the vault and then the world
went dark.
“Cub?!” Remus tried to advance forward and was stopped by an invisible wall of
force. Pacing back and forth along its edges, he occasionally looked back at
the curious and slightly concerned Goblin. “Do you know if he can get out of
there?!”
“I have no recollections of anyone ever being brought down to this vault, Mr.
Lupin, so I cannot answer that. I can only assume that if the vault wishes to
let him out, it will do so. He must be proven as Myrridin’s Heir if he is to
openly be able to use the title and this is the only place that can happen.”
Griphook fidgeted under the worried gaze of his companion and sighed. “I’m sure
he will return shortly. Harry is not known for failing at important junctures.
Even we Goblins are willing to admit that even though he is still mostly
human.”
“Mostly human.” Remus snorted and shook his head, only to step forward and
bounce off that invisible wall with a sharp curse when he saw his Cub literally
step out of the vault through the solid stone barrier. “Cub…are you okay? What
happened?”
Turning a very thoughtful gaze back at the door he had just stepped through
before focusing on Remus and Griphook, Harry smiled a wistful little smile and
shook his head at the pacing werewolf.
“I’m okay, Moony. I can’t say I was expecting to get yanked into the vault like
that, but that’s okay too. C’mon. It’s time to get back upstairs while there’s
still some sunlight to enjoy. The Riddle vault won’t take long and I still need
to make a quick stop by Madam Malkin’s before we go to Ollivander’s.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?” Remus asked as he joined Harry and
the Goblin in the cart. “You looked like something important happened in
there.”
“It was important but I can’t tell you what it was.”
“Why not?!” Remus looked offended that his Cub would deny him this piece of
knowledge.
“Because I can’t tell you what I don’t remember.” Harry met Remus’ gaze openly
and quirked a grin at him. “I went in, I passed out or at least I think I
passed out and then I was awake and knew that all I had to do to leave was to
walk out.”
“Oh. Can you go back in?” Remus couldn’t help but be curious at this point.
“Are you really Merlin’s blood?”
“Oh, yeah, I have no doubt about being Merlin’s heir…and I can go back later,
but…something…has to happen before I can. That’s all I know.”
 
August_3rd,_Madam_Malkin’s
4:00 P.M.
Exiting Gringotts bank with his hood up to obscure his face, Harry did
something he had never done before – he straightened his back, squared his
shoulders and walked down the street like everyone would expect the Lord of a
pureblood family to do. Grinning to himself as his bearing and anonymity drew
more attention than even the bare faced Boy Who Lived was accustomed to
receiving, Harry waved Remus up to walk beside him and laughed quietly.
“I could actually get used to that now that there’s more to my reputation than
just surviving as a baby.”
“Is that the main reason you didn’t like all of the attention?”
“Oh, Merlin, no. It’s how fickle the attention is. If I turned around and
yelled Boo at someone right now and they screamed, then everyone around them
would wonder what awful thing I’d done and probably assume I was dark. Then the
attention wouldn’t be so nice.”
“Public opinion is a very fickle thing,” the werewolf agreed and held the door
to Madam Malkin’s robe shop open for his Cub.
Turning to welcome her newest customers, Madam Malkin blinked in surprise at
the noble bearing of the wizard who now stood looking around her shop.
“Welcome to my shop, gentlemen. How can I be of service?”
“I wish to commission several sets of robes for the Wizengamot in a more…formal
style than is generally used today as well as a full wardrobe for myself. I do
hope you have the old pattern books and the books containing family crests in
them so I can show you what I want?” Harry shifted his hood back just enough to
make eye contact with the magical seamstress. “And I am certain that your
discretion is without question.”
The witch’s eyes widened with surprise and then recognition and she shooed her
assistant out of the shop.
“Go take your lunch break, dear. I’ll handle this one myself.” Swallowing
carefully once the girl was gone and the shop had been closed against further
interruption, Madam Malkin arched an eyebrow at Harry. “How old were you
looking to go on the robe designs, Lord Potter?”
“I’m honestly not sure of the time frame, but I saw several sets of robes
hanging in my vault and I knew then that I had found what I was looking for.”
Describing the way the robes looked and how they appeared to be cut, Harry
received a nod from the older woman.
“I’ll start digging out the books once I have the heraldry book in front of
you. Will the crest consist of only your Father’s line or will there be
multiple Lordships involved?”
“You can make a family crest reflect that?” Harry sounded both surprised and
keenly interested in the prospect.
“Of course I can, young man. It has become a great deal more necessary in the
last fifty years, what with the wars killing off so many fine people. Come on
back then and you can start on the crests while I do the rest.”
 
Walking out of the robe shop with a slightly dazed look to his eyes, Harry
shook his head and groaned.
“Why do girls like to do that, Moony? I just don’t understand…”
“Shopping in general is for females to enjoy and understand and for the male of
the species to simply learn to endure,” Remus proclaimed with a wry chuckle. “I
must admit to being intrigued by exactly what you’re planning for the
Wizengamot, however. When you said you had found a way to quietly make a very
loud statement, I didn’t follow your meaning…now I am beginning to get an idea
of just how devious you plan to be.”
“Devious doesn’t even begin to cover it, Moony. We’ll talk more about it later,
once we all have a chance to settle down, relax and just have a nice quiet
discussion.”
“Yeah, I remember what it was like to have that kind of conversation…”
“Ha ha. It’s not my fault I’m more screwed up than almost anyone else I know.”
“I didn’t say it was, Cub. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t that screwed up,
though, so…we’ll talk about that later, too. Let’s go play nice with the wand
maker.”
 
August_3rd,_Snape_Manor
4:00 P.M.
Raising his gaze from the most current edition of his favourite potions
journal, Severus Snape picked up a snifter of brandy and gazed into the amber
liquid, a slight smile curving his lips. Inhaling the warmth of the alcohol’s
scent, he took a drink and savoured its rich, smooth flavour. Sighing
contentedly, he relaxed further into his seat. He had been needing a break like
this for weeks now.
The past ten days had been as far from idyllic as he hoped to ever see his life
become and he dared to hope for a great deal more quiet time for himself as
Harry’s maturity settled and he moved on to spending more time with his little
friends. Short of the goblins and a few house elves, he had the place mostly to
himself and he liked it that way. Life was good.
“The potions are finished and the Dark Lord will summon me when he’s ready,” he
mused aloud and took another drink of his brandy. At that moment, Murphy
decided it was high time to once again enact his Law on a certain potions
master as a sharp intensely powerful pain startled the Death Eater turned spy.
Dropping the glass from his hand, Severus clutched at his left forearm and
cursed viciously even as he wondered at the sense of déjà vu he was feeling.
Still cursing in every language he could think of, he ran down to his lab to
fetch two of the three potions before rushing back upstairs to grab his robes
and mask. As much as he didn’t want to risk apparition with the more magic
sensitive of these two potions, he had no choice if the vicious way his arm was
still burning and throbbing was any indicator of Voldemort’s mood. Donning his
robe and mask on the way to the apparition point, he composed himself and
vanished with a sharp pop.
 
Watching the very spot where Severus should appear now that his awareness of
him was restored, Voldemort snarled silently when the wayward spy appeared with
a sharp pop and immediately dropped to his knees before even trying to approach
the throne.
“Ah, so you can still feel my call, hmm, Severus Snape? Where have you been
these last few days and why have you ignored my Call? It’s not like you to
deliberately anger me.” Raising his wand with the pain curse already half cast,
he froze at Severus’ panicked reaction.
Glancing up in what he knew was likely to be interpreted as an act of defiance,
the potions master took the chance at increased torture for the needed opening
to plead his case. Severus’ eyes went wide when he saw the Dark Lord already
about to cast on him; throwing a hand out as if to ward off the spell, he shook
his head vigorously.
“No, my Lord! Please! I have two of the potions…please, the Recreo would be
ruined by the magic…”
Unhooking the potions satchel from his belt with shaking hands, he offered it
to Voldemort and settled back into his prostrated position only once the
potions were laid to rest on the throne. “I beg your forgiveness, my Lord. I
have only just returned from obtaining the final ingredient for the Expurgo…I
do not know why I did not feel your call until just a few moments ago but my
punishment and my life is yours alone…”
“It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten whom it is you truly belong to,”
Voldemort murmured in a calm tone that belied the fury still smouldering in his
crimson eyes. “Crucio.”
The pain curse hit and Severus made no effort to control the contortions of his
spasming body, nor the screams that the spell’s power forced from his throat.
He could feel the Dark Lord’s rage in the sheer hell he had been dropped into
and soon was hoping that death would release him from the unending agony. An
eternity later the pain stopped and he lay twitching on the floor trying to
settle his breathing back into any semblance of a normal pattern. An amused,
snake-like face appeared in his field of vision and he tried to speak.
“Mas…” Coughing broke off his attempt to placate the monster that held him at
its mercy and he cringed inside at the thought that Voldemort might not be done
torturing him this time. Too much more of that level of pain would break him
and he realized it with a frightening clarity that made him glad he always
carried an emergency port key. If that wand came up a second time, he was going
to use it and his position as a spy could be damned for all he cared.
Seeing the shuddering condition he has left his potions master in, Voldemort
just watched him recover with no small amount of amusement. His temper rarely
got the better of him, but for some reason his fuse was rather short today and
it showed in his brutal mistreatment of the spy.
“Recover yourself, Severus. You will be staying with me to make sure the
potions do their proper work. I wouldn’t want to have any trouble with them and
no one to punish for the failure, now would I?”
Slowly managing to get back to his original kneeling position, Severus shook
his head in an attempt to clear it of the buzzing that indicated over exposure
to the Cruciatus.
“As my Lord commands,” he croaked out weakly.
 
August_3rd,_Diagon_Alley,_Ollivander’s_Fine_Wands
4:30 P.M.
Ollivander looked up when two cloaked and hooded individuals entered his shop.
Breathing in deeply, he let the feel of their magic wash over him and was truly
surprised to barely recognize the much grown up Harry Potter.
“Hello, Mr. Lupin. Ash and hippogriff feather, eleven and three quarter inches,
nicely flexible, excellent for defence and hexes.”
Turning his gaze to the tallest of the pair, he smiled slightly.
“I almost didn’t recognize you, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven
inches, nice and supple, superb for defence and charms and good for
transfiguration. How is it serving you?”
“My holly wand was taken from me,” Harry replied in a flat tone and pushed his
hood back just enough to give him a less obstructed view of the shop. “I have
another, but it started to give me trouble the week before my maturity.”
“Stuttering and growing warm?” Ollivander offered helpfully.
“More like jerking and getting hot enough to burn my hand.” The teenager sighed
explosively. “I would like to make sure that it’s undamaged since it does
perform well for lower powered, school level spells.”
“Ah, so you need a duelling wand, something you can pour some power into
without the worry of damage to the wand itself.” Ollivander studied the young
wizard intently for several minutes before arching an eyebrow. “May I see your
replacement wand? I’m curious what worked for you now that you seem to have
outgrown your first wand.”
Pulling the red lacquered wand out of its forearm holster, Harry laid it on the
counter and watched Ollivander intently.
“Dobby found it in a bin of used wands at a junk shop in Knockturn Alley.”
“A junk shop?!” Ollivander’s voice took on a horrified undertone as he examined
the beautiful wand, his silvery gaze snapping up to pin Harry with a brief but
intense stare. “What tragedy brought this beauty to such a lowly place…though
in the end, it has found a worthy home…” He sighed his pleasure and turned the
wand over in his hands and studied the base of it before laying it back down on
the counter.
“If memory serves me, which it rarely fails to do, then this is an Imperial
wand,” Ollivander explained. “Given the quality and the fact that the core is
an Imperial Dragon heartstring, I feel safe in guessing that it may have
belonged to one of the Emperor’s during the Ming Dynasty.”
Remus coughed sharply at that, his amber gaze darting from Harry to Ollivander
and back. Regaining control of him self, the werewolf laughed briefly.
“Only you, Cub. Only you or your house elf could find a Ming Dynasty heirloom
in a junk bin…”
Familiar with only the most basic concept of how valuable the wand was given
the term ‘Ming’, Harry looked at the beautiful, but for the most part
unassuming wand and frowned.
“It seems fairly simple for an Emperor…”
“They weren’t all into flashy displays, Mr. Potter. The maker’s mark on the end
of the wand, coupled with the artistry of the Phoenix and Imperial Dragon inlay
and the sheer quality, I would say this is a masterwork wand from the hand of
Master Wandmaker, Jiang-su Ch’ang. He did the majority of his work during the
early fourteen hundreds.”
“So this wand is almost six hundred years old?” Harry sounded like he almost
wanted to be ill. “And I almost ruined it?”
“I’d say between five hundred and five hundred and fifty years and you came no
where close to ruining it, Mr. Potter, of that I am certain. This wand is a
heavily lacquered shaft of Cypress wood with an Imperial Dragon heartstring
core, as I have already mentioned. Cypress is an interesting wood to work with,
to say the very least.” Ollivander sighed. “So, at what point does it start to
stutter? Would you mind casting a few spells for me in the practice range so I
can get a feel for how much power we are going to be accommodating?”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Harry slipped the wand into its wrist sheath
and nodded. “Are you sure it won’t damage the wand?”
“I won’t let you take it far enough to do harm to the wand, Mr. Potter. On
that, you have my wizard’s oath.”
Satisfied with the resulting glow of magic that sealed the older man’s promise,
Harry nodded again and watched Ollivander close up the shop with a graceful
gesture.
“Having fun yet, Moony?”
“This is fascinating, Cub. Absolutely fascinating. You just do what you need to
do and I’ll amuse myself by watching you two figure out how to fit you to a new
wand.” The were wolf grinned toothily and found himself a place to sit that was
out of their way, but one that still offered an unobstructed view of the goings
on in the room.
“What do you want me to cast?” Harry twirled his wand between is fingers for a
moment before settling into a relaxed duelling stance.
“Just go for something simple like reducto. The walls are warded and enchanted
to become stronger the more magic is pumped into them, so don’t feel a need to
hold back in that regard. If the wand grows warm or stutters in the slightest,
stop casting.”
“I can do that,” Harry murmured and aimed down the room. “Reducto,” he murmured
and cast a low powered blasting curse. Frowning, he cast again and shook his
head. “Those aren’t supposed to be that bright. Every thing I cast with this
wand seems to come out more powerful than I planned anyway, so maybe that’s
what it is…”
Filing that bit of information away for future reference, Ollivander smiled
encouragingly.
“A truly well matched wand will do that. Unfortunately this wand cannot handle
your full capability, but go ahead and push a little. Let me get a feel for
your magic.”
“Okay…how about a Patronus? That was one I could do with my old wand, so it
might still work with this one.”
“That’s reasonable. Go ahead and try.”
Considering which memory to use, Harry smiled contentedly and raised his wand.
He immediately dropped the wand and hissed angrily while shaking his burned
hand. He froze when Ollivander caught his hand between both of his own and
whispered something under his breath. The pain was gone as fast as it began and
he studied the older man with a quizzical expression on his face. He had almost
understood what Ollivander had said, but it eluded his comprehension.
“Okay, that was a bad idea…” Harry shook his head and sighed explosively.
“Try it wandlessly, Cub. We didn’t try the Patronus because it’s such a power
intensive spell.” Remus nodded encouragingly and gestured for Harry to try
again. “You know what you can and can’t do, Harry. Can you cast it wandlessly?”
Nodding that yes, he could do it, the green-eyed teen relaxed again, smiled and
cast with a sharp outward thrust of his hand. Light burst from his hand and
Prongs formed up into stark detail. Trotting around the room as if seeking
anything that might be a danger to his Summoner, the large stag finally trotted
over to Harry with a disappointed sounding snort. Brushing past Ollivander,
Prongs nuzzled Harry’s hand and faded away into nothingness.
“I could feel him nuzzling my hand,” Harry whispered. “I could feel his
fur…hear his hooves on the floor…”
“Indeed,” Ollivander breathed. “I did not know a corporeal Patronus could push
someone out of the way…”
“They generally can’t,” Remus commented. “That was beautiful, Cub. What memory
did you choose?”
“The day I discovered I still had a family,” Harry whispered and smiled a
little mistily at the werewolf. “The day I found a place to call home.”
“Cub…I’m glad you’re finally happy.” Remus took a deep breath and slowly let it
out, his own eyes bright with unshed tears that he swiped at with a rough
chuckle. “Come to think of it, that day would probably be the one I’d choose,
too.”
“Cool.” Harry looked to the wand maker and grinned a little. “Is that what you
needed?”
“That was exactly what I needed you to do. Merlin’s beard, but you always were
the complicated one. I don’t think a wooden shaft is going to work for your
wand, but I need you to try one or two before we start work on a custom wand.”
“Custom? You mean we may be making a wand today?” Harry fairly bounced with
excited curiosity. “That would be so brilliant! I’ve always wondered how you
make them.”
“I’ll second that exclamation,” Remus teased gently.
“The most difficult part is matching up the core with the right shaft material,
especially so when dealing with a custom wand. I have very few Master Work
wands in my general selection since so few ever have the power to require one.
I’ll be back shortly.”
 
Watching Ollivander wander back towards the front of the shop, Harry turned to
arch an eyebrow at Remus, eyes sparkling with good humour while he twirled his
wand through his fingers.
“I can’t wait to see what we come up with.”
“Neither can I, Cub. I wonder what you’ll have for a core?”
“Probably not Phoenix this time, but whatever else…who knows.” Turning to nod
at Ollivander, Harry accepted the first wand and sighed. “How about I just pull
up the magic to cast a Patronus and see if it does what my other wand did.”
“Go right ahead, Mr. Potter.” Ollivander felt a burst of pre-mature triumph
just before Harry abruptly eased his grip and stopped pulling on his magic. “No
luck?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Harry muttered unhappily. “I think I scorched it a
little, but nothing beyond that.”
“That rules out wood of any kind, then. If ironwood is insufficient, then no
wood is likely to work. Try this one.” He handed Harry a wand that had a
graceful twist to it. He smiled at the boy’s fascination. “That is a Narwhal
horn, not unicorn, though the two are very similar.”
Remus watched Harry pull on his magic and pause to glare at the wand like it
had done something offensive. Harry shook the horn and hissed at it in what
sounded like a very uncomplimentary way before handing it back to Ollivander.
Sniggering, the werewolf shook his head.
“What was that all about?”
“It bloody well refused to work!” Not seeing it as being funny, Harry glared at
the wand again before relenting to the humorous aspect of his actions.
“So it did nothing? You felt no compatibility with it?” Ollivander sounded a
bit disappointed.
“It wasn’t that. I could feel my magic respond to it. The wand refused to work
for me when I tried to push magic through it.” Harry growled before subsiding
completely. “Next?” he asked with a wry laugh.
“Next we figure out what to use as the shaft of the new wand. Is there anything
you feel a particular affinity towards?” Ollivander arched an eyebrow when
Harry’s face took on a particularly thoughtful expression. Then the teen was
pulling a foot and a half long shaft of some white bone like material that he
didn’t recognize as a fang until it was laying on his worktable. His hand
hovered over it and his silvery eyes went wide.
“A very old basilisk…I feel phoenix here, in the clean area. Would you know
anything about that?”
“Fawkes…so that’s how it got into my room,” Harry mused. “It was on my bed when
I came out of the bathroom this morning and I thought that Dobby had brought it
to me from the Chamber.” He sobered. “She was an old one…a thousand years old,
at least, from what Tom intimated. It hurt me to have to kill her, but she was
mad, a danger…she nearly did kill me too. Fawkes is the only reason I survived
that night.”
“Why is that?” Ollivander leaned forward, gaze intensely curious.
“The basilisk’s fang pierced my bicep when I ran the Sword of Gryffindor
through the top of its mouth. I would have died from the poison if Fawkes
hadn’t cried in the wound.”
Contemplating the fang, then Harry, the old wand maker nodded to himself before
frowning a little.
“Very few cores will be compatible with this fang due to the reactivity of the
venom. I will collect those that I have and see which one you react most
favourably to.”
“Would it help if you had something to act as a balance? I have basilisk venom
and phoenix tears in my blood and it’s the same venom as the basilisk that lost
this fang.”
“How do you manage it?” Ollivander whispered almost soundlessly and sighed when
Remus just shrugged and grinned at him while Harry managed to look innocent.
“Yes, that might very well be the deciding factor once a core has been
selected. Now, tell me what inspires in you the greatest emotions. That will
help guide me to a group of possible cores. From there, you will know it when
you feel it near you.”
“Okay…” Eyes drifting closed, Harry frowned a little, then smiled.
“Flying…there’s no other feeling in the world that can compare with climbing to
a thousand feet and dropping like a stone…only to pull up and swoop away at the
last second…” Voice full of eager excitement, his smile grew to a bright and
joyful expression.
Ollivander threw a wistful look in Remus’ direction and shrugged when the
werewolf eyed him curiously.
“I, too, love to fly, but I rarely get to do so anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered almost mournfully. “It almost killed me to not be
able to fly last year.” He sighed and shook himself. “Strong emotions…betrayal,
being lied to,” he growled, eyes flashing with a burning hate that he quickly
swallowed away, lest it get out of hand. “Friends and family…Remus and
Severus…the Weasleys, ‘Mione, Luna, Neville…”
“The freedom of flight, hatred and a desire for vengeance on the betrayer and
love and loyalty to family; those are all very helpful and motivationally
powerful emotions,” Ollivander murmured. “Given your affinity with serpents,
that gives me a few ideas I might never have considered before.” He went to a
large wardrobe and spoke so quietly they could barely hear what he said before
the soft click of an opening lock was heard.
“What language is that?” Harry gave the wand maker a look crossed between
confusion and intense concentration. “I can almost understand it…it feels like
I should, but I can’t…”
Visibly surprised, Ollivander met Harry’s gaze and seemed to search for
something before nodding slightly. Just one more piece of information to file
away, he mused to himself and smiled a little.
“If it is a language you are meant to know, it will come to you in time. If
not, then nothing I can do will ever make its meaning clear. I would tell you
more if I could.”
Returning that searching gaze, satisfied with the regret he saw in the man’s
silver eyes, Harry nodded reluctantly.
“You would tell me if you could…alright, I guess I’ll have to wait and see on
something else. What cores do I need to look at?”
“Give me a moment and I will lay them out on the work table. Kindly turn your
back, as I do not want anything to interfere in your choice,” Ollivander
instructed. “Keep your eyes closed and I will have Remus lead you over when I
am ready for you to choose a core.” Pulling close to a dozen vials out of the
heavily warded cupboard, the wand maker was unprepared for the young wizard’s
immediate reaction.
“Oh…what is that?” Eyes still closed, Harry turned to Ollivander and reached
out instinctively to that which called to his magic. “It feels like flying…”
“How does the basilisk fang ‘feel’ to you, Harry?” Remus quirked a grin at the
older wizard. “If something over there feels like flying, how does the fang
feel?”
“Vengeance and pain,” Harry whispered in a harsh tone, face hardening for but a
moment before that other feeling pulled at him again. “It must be a feather or
a part of something that flies…it has to be to feel like this…”
“That narrows things down quite a bit,” Ollivander commented wryly and put away
the vials that did not contain feathers or parts of other flying creatures.
Left with only three vials, he looked down at them and focused on a foot long,
shimmering black feather. Putting the other two items away, he closed the
cupboard and slowly crossed the room towards the almost vibrating teenager.
Placing the vial in Harry’s hand, he took a step back and watched the relief
flow over him as his body visibly relaxed.
//Oh…yessssss,// Harry hissed out in Parseltongue and held the vial like it was
more precious to him than anything else he had ever before encountered. //
Perfect.//
“What in the world is that?” Remus whispered, amber eyes a bit wide as he
watched Harry commune with a clearly very magical feather.
“That is perhaps the rarest core material in my possession,” Ollivander replied
just as quietly. “It is the feather of a nearly extinct South American winged
serpent named the Kukulkan for the High Dragon it resembles. They are very
magical, wickedly intelligent, deadly poisonous and a beautiful sight to see. I
am not surprised by his choice now that I think about it.”
Blinking his eyes open, Harry gasped sharply and stared at the shimmering black
feather. Turning it this way and that, he smiled at the fiery flashes of colour
that appeared when the light hit it.
“This is beautiful, Mr. Ollivander…you called it a Kukulkan? Was there really a
High Dragon that looked like it?”
“There was a very, very long time ago, Mr. Potter. They have been gone from our
world for several thousand years now. All that remains as a reminder is the
small Kukulkan serpent.”
“Will this work with the fang?”
“Given the similar natures of both serpents, I believe so, but I would prefer
to use you blood as a binder just in case there is a negative reaction. I only
need a small vial full.” Conjuring the aforementioned vial, Ollivander pressed
it to Harry’s offered arm and muttered a short spell under his breath; removing
the vial that was now full of dark red blood and a swirling silvery
luminescence, he took a step back to admire the contents much like Harry had
done with the feather. “My word, you were quite serious about the unusual
properties of your blood, young man. Well, lets get your wand made, shall we?
The difficult part is over – all you have to do now is watch.”
“Okay…” Reluctantly handing over the vial containing the feather, Harry
conjured a seat next to the work bench and made him self comfortable. “C’mon.
Moony. This is going to be cool.”
Shaking his head, the wand maker tuned his companions out and focused on the
large fang that lay in front of him. As an after thought, he pulled out his
tape measure and gestured for Harry to stand.
“I can’t very well go by your old measurements, now can I?” The tape measure
snaked out to measure the length of Harry’s arms and a few other seemingly
meaningless measurements before coiling up in Ollivander’s hand, who then
returned it to his pocket. “Excellent. Now I can begin.”
Remus sat forward beside his cub and watched with open fascination as power
rolled out from the older wizard’s hands and shaped the fang into a
decoratively designed grip and smooth shafted wand that gleamed dangerously in
the candle light.
Nodding his satisfaction with the length of the actual wand and the shape of
the grip after a final inspection of Harry’s wand hand, Ollivander poured the
vial of blood over the smooth ivory and used his magic to force it into the
hollow space inside. The nature of the material had saved him a great deal of
work since the fang had been hollow like a hypodermic needle to begin with.
Pulling the Kukulkan feather from its vial with careful reverence, he laid it
on the haft of the wand and had barely begun to ‘push’ with his own power
before it vanished into the core with a visible shimmer of discharged magic.
“How curious,” Ollivander mused and looked up at Harry. “But then, I tend to
say things like that around you quite frequently, so why should now be any
different, hmm? Basilisk fang and Kukulkan feather, fourteen and a half inches.
This will be a superb wand for the Dark Arts, curses and hexes. Take up your
wand, young man and go to the practice area before you so much as give it a
wave. I dare say sparks are the very least of my expectations with this Master
Work.”
“You never did touch it,” Remus observed. “Why?”
“That fang is still deadly poisonous, Mr. Lupin, even when the contact is
brief. You might survive a little longer than average after touching it, but I
doubt you would make it to St. Mungo’s in time to be given the Basilisk anti-
venom.”
“But that fang is from a basilisk that is four years dead,” Remus protested.
“Basilisk’s are magical creatures, lesser Dragons no less and they do not decay
like natural things. A century from now, that fang could still kill with its
venom and now young Mr. Potter’s magic will sustain it indefinitely, so spells
are not the only defence Mr. Potter will have while he carries this wand.”
“And basilisk venom is as much a contact poison as an injected one…bloody
hell…Harry, talk to Severus when we get home. We’re going to have to start
carrying basilisk anti-venom in case one of us has to touch your wand or if
someone does accidentally…”
“It’s really that serious?” Harry paled and sank back down into his seat; the
implications were a bit scary, but also incredibly reassuring. “How can I keep
people from touching it other than warning them verbally?”
“With your permission, Mr. Potter, I would like to cast a few enchantments on
your wand to guard against such accidental encounters. A repelling charm
similar to the one many use against muggles as well as a rather sharp stinging
hex should do the trick. If they get past that, and they are not one of your
trusted friends, then perhaps they deserve what happens to them.” Ollivander’s
smile was a frightening match for the malicious one that graced Harry’s lips
ever so briefly. “Now, about your Ming wand…”
“What about it?” Harry sounded nervous.
“I will have to register it with the Ministry, but I will wait until midnight
of September first to do so. That way you will have an official wand that you
can show off, while keeping the fang hidden.” Ollivander sighed and scrawled
out the incantation for the Ministry tracking charm. “I can give you a few
temporary forearm holsters for it, but your wand will require something
more…durable like basilisk hide for a permanent holster. These should last you
several months, but if you notice any discolouration or damage, destroy the
holster immediately and use a new one.”
Seeing the sober understanding in Harry’s gaze, Ollivander continued. “This is
the incantation for the Ministry tracking charm. You must place it on the wand
the night before you return to Hogwarts. Do you understand?”
“Right…cast this on the Ming wand the night before I go to school. Gotcha. Can
I go test my wand now? All of this talk won’t amount to much if it doesn’t
work.”
“Of course. Just keep it simple until you get a feel for how the wand is going
to react with your magic,” Ollivander cautioned the impatient young man.
Grinning, Harry picked up the wand and froze in place, back arching slightly as
his magic surged in reaction to his contact with the wand. Shuddering, he let
out a shaky breath and shook himself vigorously.
“That was…wild…I’ll definitely have to be careful,” Harry stated and strode
over to the practice area, the young wizard’s aura rising around him like heat
shimmer as he raised his wand to cast the first spell.
“Sweet Merlin,” Remus whispered, amber gaze fixated by that hypnotic effect as
a vibrantly red spell shot out from the fang wand and impacted on the back wall
with the resounding rumble of a small, but powerfully explosive detonation.
“Was that a Reducto!?”
“Yeah. That was wicked, wasn’t it!”
“I’ve created a monster,” Ollivander bemoaned with a grin on his face. “Try
pushing your magic through the wand, Mr. Potter. I would prefer to know that it
isn’t going to fail you if you really get going.”
“I can do that,” Harry agreed gleefully and faced down the practice range yet
again.
Remus froze when a bright green spell was sent down the range, his face going
pale and shocked. Then Harry laughed his delight and said the spell he’d used
loudly enough for him to clearly hear it.
“Tersus Scaphium!” Harry cried out and let out another round of genuine
laughter as his pot cleaning spell rocketed down the range like a basketball
size sphere of green fire instead of the golf ball size orb that was normally
created by the commonly used household spell.
“The pot cleaning spell, Cub? What the bloody hell are you trying to do to
me?!” Remus barked and couldn’t help him self. He started chuckling as relief
flooded his thoughts.
“Well, I was looking through this book on household spells and discovered that
the pot cleaning spell was pretty close to the same colour as the Avada Kedavra
and I don’t know anyone who isn’t going to dodge or duck or something like that
when they see a green spell coming at them. I figure it will work great as a
distraction tactic until I actually hit someone with it.” Harry shrugged. “I
don’t know what it will do if that happens…”
Ollivander arched an eyebrow at the teenager and started to smile. The pure
ingenuity of the thought made the older wizard very happy to know some of the
younger generation.
“Cast it again and really try to take the paint off the walls with it,” he
urged with a delighted burst of laughter.
 
August_3rd,_Unplottable_Location
4:30 P.M.
Handing the first draught to the Dark Lord, a vial of De-Aging Potion, Severus
watched him drink it down and cast Tempus to monitor the timing.
“You should start to feel some restoration from this alone, my Lord.” Observing
the evil man with keen eyes, Severus noted the smoothing of Voldemort’s skin
and other clear signs of a more youthful form.
Conjuring a full length mirror with a casual gesture of his hand, Voldemort
studied his reflection and could, indeed, see the very signs of improvement
that Severus had already noted privately.
“How long before I can take the Recreo Primaevus?”
“The De-Aging potion requires at least an hour to complete its work, My Lord.
In this case, mixing the two prior to that time could be entirely counter-
productive.”
Nodding his understanding, Voldemort sighed almost silently. He had known that,
but couldn’t help testing in seemingly subtle ways to find out if Severus was
finally going to try and betray him overtly. So far the wily spy had chosen to
play his role to the tee and the Dark Lord wasn’t about to complain when the
result was to his own personal benefit.
“Very well. Tell me what you know of the Potter brat’s disappearance.”
“Disappearance, my Lord?” Severus frowned and shook his head. “The last I heard
at an Order meeting nearly a fortnight ago, the boy was still living in the lap
of luxury with those muggle relatives of his. I have not spoken to Albus or any
of the rest since then.”
“The boy vanished right along with his pet werewolf almost immediately after
that meeting,” Voldemort commented. “They have, apparently, been travelling.
The little monster sent me a hat with mouse ears on it from a place called
Disney,” he concluded contemptuously.
Familiar with only the vaguest references to Euro Disney, Severus shook his
head and shrugged a little.
“I am barely familiar with the name of the muggle amusement park called Euro
Disney, my Lord. Perhaps this is the place he is visiting?” The Slytherin Head
of House was now immensely grateful to have avoided having anything to do with
the plotting and pranking that had been going on between Remus and Harry.
Enduring a nearly unending interrogation from Voldemort for the entirety of the
hour before he could administer the Recreo Primaevus Draught, Severus was about
to the point where he hoped the potion would render the mad man unconscious so
he could kick him a few times while he was down. He’d already thought about
actually Avada Kedavraing him, but that might actually hurt Harry, so trying to
kill the Dark Lord would have to wait…
“Ah, here you are, my lord. You might want to sit, as I do not know what effect
the potion will have immediately.”
More than happy to oblige the potions master by returning to his place on his
throne, Voldemort sat back and drank the swirling gold and white potion.
Shuddering visibly, he dropped the now empty vial and fought to remain upright
in his seat as agony unlike anything he’d ever felt except being ripped from
his body by a certain rebounded curse tore through his nerves and muscles
before seeming to sink deeper into his very essence.
Observing the Dark Lord as he fought through the painful effects of this last
potion, Severus fought the urge to do a happy dance. Here he was, getting to
watch the damnable man suffer willingly through pain that he had caused the
Dark Lord to feel and he couldn’t run through the complex gloating about it.
Swallowing his disappointed glee, he focused on the task at hand and had to
admit to a certain amount of pride in his handiwork.
“The changes are already quite visible, my Lord. It won’t be long before you
will be unrecognizable to anyone except those who knew you when you were
younger.”
Standing through sheer force of will, Voldemort returned to his place before
his conjured mirror and blinked in silent surprise. The potions master hadn’t
been exaggerating his statement. Smiling his approval, he stood resolutely
through the agony of his transformation so he could see every nuance of the
change.
Feeling a bit daunted by the time the potion had worked its way completely
through Voldemort’s system, Severus made mental note to never again
underestimate the sheer willpower that had driven this man to exist as a
spectre for years until he could have a new body fashioned for him.
“It will be another hour or so before the potion has run its course, my Lord.
After that, you may still see some minor changes depending on how well it is
interacting with your magic. Forgive me that I do not know how long those
changes may continue to occur.”
“Very well,” the Dark Lord murmured and shook his head just to feel the weight
of his hair move with every sharp action. He continued his personal vigil and
relaxed as the pain finally eased and came to an end almost exactly an hour
later. Beckoning Severus over, he bared the man’s Mark and pressed his finger
to it to activate the summoning. Releasing the staggered spy without any sign
of acknowledgement for the pain he had caused him, Voldemort cast a quick
Glamourie charm and checked it in the mirror while he waited for those he had
summoned to arrive.
Apparating into the audience chamber at her master’s home, Bellatrix knelt at
Voldemort’s side and kissed the hem of his robe adoringly.
“What would you have of me, my Lord?”
“Take these others and attack Diagon Alley. Leave everything in ruins and make
sure there is no doubt that Lord Voldemort can strike anywhere, anytime he
pleases. Do what you do best, my darling Bella.”
Torn inside because he couldn’t warn Harry and Remus – or anyone else for that
matter – Severus resigned himself to his task of keeping an eye on the Dark
Lord as the potions continued to do their work of restoring his appearance to
that of a more human seeming.
 
August_3rd,_Diagon_Alley
6:30 P.M.
“Make sure you break it in well, Mr. Potter. Your power and the wand must
become well acquainted or it could prove to be a bit temperamental at times,”
Ollivander reminded the currently smiling teen. “I’m not sure what spells you’d
use to push your limits with it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if your mentors
can’t come up with a few suggestions.”
“I’ll remember, Mr. Ollivander. Thank you for making the wand…it fits perfectly
with my magic.” Feeling a great deal more secure with his new wand comfortably
settled into its forearm holster, Harry adjusted his hood and stepped out of
Ollivander’s wand shop.
“Severus and I will keep him in line,” Remus commented with a wry chuckle.
“Thank you for a very fascinating day, Mr. Ollivander.”
Turning to look up Diagon Alley towards Gringotts, Harry’s good mood was
shattered by the sharp sounds of multiple apparitions coming straight into the
shopping crowds. Straightening abruptly, Harry’s aura appeared around him in
its typical nearly invisible shimmer and he started to bark out orders to
Remus.
“Death Eaters! Get as many people under cover as you can without getting
yourself killed, Moony. I’ve got this.”
“Cub, damn it!” Obeying his Cub’s orders despite the warring desire to just get
Harry to safety, Remus hurried as many people as possible back into the warded
store fronts and into alleys where they could find cover before ricocheting
spell fire forced him back under cover with Ollivander of all people. Frowning
at the calm and vaguely amused older wizard, Remus shook his head and started
firing off spells at the unprotected backs of the Death Eaters he could see.
 
Looking for signs of any Inner Circle Death Eaters as the witches and wizards
that filled the alley recognized the only too familiar black cloaks and white
masks of Death Eaters, Harry growled his frustration. Screaming and crying rose
above the other panicked sounds as everyone scrambled to get under cover. The
angry resentment he had been swallowing down since he first saw his
genealogical parchment flared into full flame and found a focus when his eyes
lighted on the unmasked face of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Shifting into a looser, more open duelling stance, he growled under his breath
and glanced over at the still scrambling werewolf.
“Get those bystanders under cover, now, damn it!” Satisfied that Remus was
carrying out his order, Harry turned back and located Bella amidst the dozen or
so Death Eaters that surrounded her. He smirked and it was not a pleasant
expression.
“Reducto! Bella! Oh Bella!” He called out to her in a mocking, sing-song tone
and advanced on the mad woman. His spells bounced off her shield spell but
still managed to push her back a bit and the sight of her bracing herself
inspired him even more.
“Wh-Protego!” Defending herself against attack before she was consciously aware
of its source, Bellatrix gestured sharply for the other Death Eaters to
continue with their objective – mass, wanton destruction. More than happy to
deal with such an arrogant upstart, she was still surprised to feel her shield
spell ripple under the force of his blasting hex. Digging her heels in, she
managed to keep from sliding more than an inch or two; rallying with an attack
of her own, she advanced on her opponent while wandlessly maintaining her
shields at full strength.
“Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Sectumsempra!”
Sidestepping out of the way of spells he couldn’t block with serpentine grace,
and wandlessly knocking away those that he could shield against, Harry grinned
maniacally under his hood.
“Reducto! Sectumsempra! Expelliarmus!”
Letting her shields deflect the first few school level spells until she got a
true feel for their power, Bella let loose with a contemptuous laugh and
continued to taunt him between spells. “Is that all you’ve got?! A bunch of
school boy spells? Why don’t you start throwing something real!” Laughing
amidst her sneering commentary, Bellatrix practically danced out of the way of
his next set of spells to avoid having to brace against the pure force that was
behind them.
“Avada Kedavra! Praemium Somes! Agon Verbero! Animus Intorqueo!” Rattling off a
list of bone breaking, agony inducing spells, Bellatrix ground her teeth in
frustration when all the upstart did was dodge or counter irregardless of how
dark the spell was. “Vomica Cruor!”
Uncertain where his new found knowledge was coming from and not particularly
concerned since it was keeping him alive and unharmed, Harry avoided the
majority of her spells and yelped out his pain when the bone breaking hex
grazed his left arm and shattered his humerus. Vision flaring to red as the
rage and pain consumed him and kept him on his feet, he assessed his
surroundings and renewed his own attack to give himself time to heal his arm
while the enemy was recovering from their own wounds.
 
Remus watched from the side lines once all of the remaining Death Eaters had
ducked under cover or had ceased moving due to one rebounding spell or another.
Hearing his Cub scream in pain jerked him into motion towards the viciously
duelling pair and he growled threateningly when a surprisingly strong grip
stopped him from leaving the wards.
“No, Mr. Lupin…this is not a fight you can help him with. Besides, he has
already healed his hurts,” Ollivander commented quietly, tone full of wonder
and appreciation. “To leave the wards is death. Ah, there’s his proper aura…I
wondered where it was hiding.”
“I have to help him,” Remus whispered and shook off the older wizard’s grip.
“He shouldn’t have to do this alone…”
“He chose this. Let him finish it.” Ollivander smirked at the werewolf. “Or am
I going to have to stun you to keep you from doing something stupid that will
get you killed against his wishes?”
“Damn you…” Spells ricocheted around at an even more alarming rate and Remus
was suddenly very glad to be where he was as his view of Harry showed him a
display of raw power and spell knowledge that left him terrified and awed at
the same time. He made mental note to discuss this once they got home…if they
got home…
 
“This real enough for you, Bella? Agon Verbero! Animus Intorqueo! Dokaach
rharec!” Harry snarled out and turned his wand on his own arm. “Resarcio
Vulnus!” he hissed out and let out another distinctly audible cry of pain as
his arm healed before straightening and looking about to see what damage he had
done to the enemy.
Delighted to have even a minor challenge, Bellatrix gleefully avoided her
opponent’s increasingly darker, deadlier spells. Laughing at his pained outcry
and filled with the certainty of victory, she was completely unprepared for the
unknown blasting curse that hit the cobblestones a few feet in front of her.
Thrown backwards and up into the air, she finally hit the street and skidded to
a halt a full storefront away from where she had begun. Coughing as dust and
debris pelted her even as she assessed her own condition and found herself to
be relatively uninjured, the mad woman shook herself and took in her
surroundings. The cries of pain and screams of fear nearby told her not all of
her men had been so lucky. What the bloody hell was that?
Oblivious to the carnage around them, gaze focused entirely on this suddenly,
surprisingly dangerous young man, Bellatrix’s eyes widened as she picked
herself up off of the street. Only one person alive – to her knowledge – had
eyes that particular shade of green. Her grin grew to even greater maniacal
proportions as she moved in with a tactic that would only work if she was
correct about whom she was facing.
“Does ickle harry potty miss his dogfather, hmm?” she baby talked in a high
voice. “Oooh, has ickle potty stooped to doing bad magic? His dogfather Sirius
would be soooooo sad….pity we aren’t down there…I could send you straight to
him…”
“Why’d you do it, Bella?” Harry growled. “He was your blood kin!”
“A blood traitor, you mean,” Bellatrix snarled back in reply. “He got in my
way, ickle harry potty! He was weak and betrayed his blood, so I put him down
like the dog he was! He deserved worse than he got! Avada Kedavra!”
Taken beyond reason as rage filled him up like a cup and overflowed into his
aura, something broke open inside Harry and he snarled at the woman in front of
him, his eyes flaring to a true Avada Kedavra green. Avoiding her unforgivable
curse, he let all of his newly discovered spell knowledge come to the fore
front of his mind and hit her with everything he could think of.
“Praemium Somes! Agon Verbero! Animus Intorqueo! Vomica Cruror! Sectumsempra!”
Revelling in her screams when the agony spell struck her exposed back and in
the spray of blood caused by his cutting curse, Harry stalked forward with
every intention of pressing his advantage.
Shielding fiercely, returning fire as best she could, Bellatrix found herself
feeling not quite so confident all of a sudden. Facing off against Harry Potter
was certainly not an event she would have expected to make her weak in the
knees and her mind kept insisting that this couldn’t possibly be the same boy.
This man fought like the Dark Lord – dark, dirty and driven.
“Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Avada Kedavra!” she fired off in rapid succession in
the hopes of breaking his immediate concentration. He side stepped the first
AK, but the Crucio hit and he went to one knee, thus avoiding the second AK. To
her horror, he shrugged off the Crucio and returned to his feet through the
pain and bore down on her again with renewed determination.
Pain tore through the red rage that was Harry’s only haven, and he screamed for
but a moment before fighting through it. This pain was nothing to Tom’s pain
curses and he forced himself to his feet.
Harry raised his basilisk fang wand and aimed it directly at Bellatrix. He
hissed a spell she couldn’t have understood even had she heard it and sickly
yellowish-green energy coalesced around his hand and the wand it held before
shooting out towards his intended victim. He knew she recognized it because she
broke her own attack and dove out of the way of his incoming spell. The terror
on her face made him feel even more powerful and he advanced on his fallen
prey, his own face devoid of any emotion bystanders might have recognized.
Recognizing the mass of sickly greenish-yellow light that was barrelling down
at her for the slow, agonizing doom that it was, Bellatrix threw herself to the
side and shuddered in relief when it missed her.
She had seen the effects of this spell when used by the Dark Lord. It took
hours and hours of irreversible agony for the victim of this curse to die and
she didn’t plan to meet her end in that particular way if she could help it.
The shrieks of a fellow Death Eater told her Harry hadn’t missed entirely.
Turning, she risked a glance up as she closed her hand on her emergency port
key. She met his gaze as he stalked towards her and the look in his Avada
Kedavra eyes held the promise of terrible pain before he would even consider
allowing her to die. Pale and shaken, she was never more grateful for the gut
wrenching pull of dislocated space as she was whisked away by her port key.
 
Remus cautiously approached the pacing form of his cub with no small amount of
trepidation. The werewolf kept his hands visible and his voice as steady as
possible – he had to get him calmed down so he could get him home before the
Aurors showed up.
“Cub…Harry…try to listen to my voice…” The distant sound of apparition reached
his ears and he groaned audibly before placing himself between the angrily
pacing form of his godson and the direction the Aurors would be advancing from.
“The crazy bitch ran away! How dare she run away from me?! I wasn’t done with
her,” Harry growled out, green eyes flashing. “It’s time to go.” Pulling Remus
against him, he tandem apparated them back to Snape Manor; releasing his
friend, he stormed towards the house in a roil of angry power.
 
August_3rd,_Unplottable_Location
6: 38 P.M.
Studying his new self in the mirror, Voldemort smiled his pleasure and then
suddenly snarled at the offending object and lashed out with his fist. The
glass shattered and he turned his snarling attention to his bloodied knuckles.
Seeing his own blood, an uncommon occurrence in and of itself, jerked his
attention around to exactly what he was doing and feeling. More appropriately,
it made him aware that the rage could not possibly be his own since he had been
in a perfectly amiable mood just moments ago. He had been a bit testy all day,
but nothing that would explain this sudden mood swing.
No, this raging firestorm of hate and anger that felt so like his own moods
when he would kill anything in sight for the pure pleasure of it was not his
emotion – it belonged to his little Serpent and he was more than a little
intrigued. Just when he dared to think that the boy had become predictable, he
would do something like this and make things even more interesting than they
had been at any other time before.
“What have you done, my little Serpent?” he whispered. “Who has caused you to
feel this rage?” On the heels of his verbal musings came a partial answer as
loud and clear as if Harry had been standing at his side. The crazy bitch ran
away!! Howdare she run away from me?! I wasn’t done with her! Send her back
now!
Stunned by the mercurial shifts in Voldemort’s moods and recognizing them as
being eerily similar to the way Harry’s moods tended to shift, Severus came to
the abrupt and unpleasant realization that the bond between the two wizards
really wasn’t one way and that the teen could just as easily incapacitate the
older wizard with unexpected bursts of powerful emotion as Voldemort had been
known to do to Harry.
“Are…you well, my Lord?” he ventured cautiously.
“I am quite well, Severus. My…the Potter boy is a thing of rage, however…this
doesn’t bode well for whomever has pushed him to this level.”
Deciding that now is as good a time as any to let Severus go, Voldemort opened
his mouth to send him away when first Bellatrix, then the rest of the raiding
party reappeared in the audience chamber via their emergency port keys.
Recasting a Parseltongue Glamourie charm over his currently much improved
appearance, the Dark Lord snarled silently and let his anger focus on its
newest target – his Serpent’s target - Bellatrix and her obviously failed
mission.
Severus took one look at Bellatrix lying huddled and shaking on the floor and
can’t resist the urge to make a snarky comment.
“If that isn’t the best position I’ve ever seen you in, Bella, then I can’t
think of one that might suit you more,” he drawled meanly and then realized he
had spoken aloud. Glancing cautiously over at the Dark Lord, he scrambled to
avoid being punished further.
“Forgive me, my Lord…I spoke out of turn…”
“Oh, no, you spoke it quite appropriately, Severus…that does seem to be a
common position for my dear Bellatrix these days,” Voldemort sneered and shook
his head, disappointment openly obvious alongside the burgeoning rage. This was
the second time his little Serpent had put Bellatrix in a similar position and
he was torn between being proud of Harry and disappointed in Bellatrix. “You
may go, Severus. Finish the last potion as quickly as you can without ruining
it. I will summon you in seven days. Do not miss my Call again.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Severus bowed his head and apparated away before the Dark Lord
could change his mind.
 
August_3rd,_Snape_Manor
6:40 P.M.
Harry stalked up to the house ahead of Remus and slammed the door open with a
wandless, wordless Alhomora. Still in a towering rage, he bee-lined for the
training room and proceeded to repeatedly test the strength of the warding with
over powered blasting curses and many of the other, darker spells that were now
bubbling around in his mind.
 
Staggering into the house, all pretence of recovery gone now that he is no
longer in the Dark Lord’s presence, Severus called out to his house elf and was
startled to see Remus come rushing up to help him into the sitting room.
“Oh, my poor Master…” Millie wrung her hands briefly before recovering her
composure. “What potions is Master needing?”
“Cruciatus relief, non-drowsy pain potion and an extra strength healing
potion,” Severus managed before sinking into the chair that Remus had guided
him to. Shuddering as he bit back a whimper, the potions master blinked at the
pacing werewolf. “What the bloody hell happened at the Alley? Bella said
Harry…”
“Just relax and get those potions into your system and I’ll tell you about it,”
Remus murmured, amber eyes filled with concern. “Was he really that angry with
you? I didn’t think he tended to hit you this hard, especially when you have
something he’s been wanting…”
“Wards kept me from feeling his Call for a few days,” Severus whispered and
accepted the potions vials from Millie. Downing the Cruciatus relief, he sank
further into the soft chair and sighed as the muscle tremors finally began to
ease off. “He was so enraged,” he murmured. “I had never felt a Crucio that
made me want to die until the one he cast on me shortly after I arrived. Can’t
say that I would have survived two, either. Was Harry still angry after I left?
I think he’s affecting the Dark Lord as much as the Dark Lord affects him…”
“The Cub wasn’t visibly angry, no, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Remus
murmured in reply. “He smelled angry for most of the day after he looked at
that genealogy parchment, which I still haven’t had the chance to see, by the
by. Visiting Ollivander for his new wand calmed him down a lot and he was fine
until the Death Eaters showed up in the Alley.”
“Then he lost it…didn’t he.” There was no doubt in the Slytherin’s voice.
“Voldemort lost it not long before he sent me home. It was a very unpleasant
wake up call, Remus, my friend. If that rage was anything close to what Harry
was really feeling…”
“He scared the hell out of me, Severus! He fought Bellatrix Lestrange into a
fucking stand still and then snapped and snarled about her running away when he
wasn’t done with her yet…he’s in the training room working it off now…”
“It sounds like Bella finally did something smart. You do realize that Harry
and the Dark Lord are the only two people to ever send her running to get out
of a duel alive, yes?”
“I didn’t know that,” the werewolf mused quietly. “It was a bloody mess, that
duel…bloody beautiful to watch, though. I’ll have to show you the bit at
Ollivander’s and the duel in the Pensive later. Words simply will not describe
everything that happened today. Diagon Alley is a great big disaster.”
“That I can believe,” Severus drawled sarcastically as the potions finished
their work and left him feeling more angry and uncertain than physically hurt
at that point. A resounding rumble filtered its way down the hall to their ears
and he arched one eyebrow at the slightly amused werewolf. “What in Merlin’s
name was that!?”
“A Reducto from the sound of it. The door had to have been open for us to hear
it though, so I expect the Cub has calmed down enough to come and see how
you’re doing.”
Exiting the training room with a final blasting curse, Harry checked in the
dining room before wandering further down the hall to the sitting room that was
just off the foyer. Seeing that Severus had returned while he was burning off
some of his excess emotional energy and noting that he definitely looked a
little worse for wear, he conjured a chair and sat forward with concern evident
on his face through the remaining anger.
“He hurt you badly this time,” he stated matter of factly. “And it was my
fault. If I hadn’t been so ruddy pissed off…”
“It wasn’t your fault, Harry. You can’t take responsibility for the Dark Lord
not controlling his temper any better than he didn’t today,” Severus muttered.
“He’s had many more years of experience at it than you do.”
“Not like this, he doesn’t. In this, I have it over on him,” Harry countered.
“This is where I have a year of learned control more than he does. I let things
get the better of me and he took it out on you…its okay that he’ll take it out
on Bella. I was actually counting on that.” He smirked maliciously before
sitting back in his chair, his anger clearly having been revived by the
subject. “The bitch had no business running away from a perfectly good,
unfinished duel…did you know she was such a coward, Severus? How did she look
when she arrived? Did I actually manage to nail her at least one good time?”
Feeling the power around the younger wizard as it started to build in response
to his negative emotions, Severus was forcefully reminded of his own recent
torture session at the hands of the man connected rather intimately to the one
he was sitting beside and reacted as much to protect himself as to diffuse the
situation.
“You really should try to cam down, Harry. Letting his drives get the better of
you isn’t going to make anything better…”
“You just don’t have what it takes to enjoy a good argument anymore,” Harry
stated. “It’s okay. I understand. You’ve gotten old and you just can’t hack it.
There’s a good pasture out back that we can let you go to seed in.”
“This isn’t about me, Harry. You need to calm down and think rationally about
where these thoughts and emotions are coming from. Maybe you should work on
your Occlumency for a little while…”
“So I should just bottle it up and be as pinched and emotionally constipated as
you are?” Harry snorted and snapped at the older man when the one person he
could count on to be verbally nasty and open for a verbal brawl simply refused
to take the bait. He was tired of being handled like he was going to break and
it was going to end now.
“Who are you and what the bloody hell have you done with Severus Snape?!”
“What? Harry, you need to…”
“I want to fight and you won’t fucking fight. I didn’t like you the way you
were before, but at least you had a spine. Were you always this weak willed?
Are you going to pull a Lucius Malfoy and claim it was the Imperious that made
you do it? Hell, you’re barely any better than Wormtail,” he sneered out
nastily.
“You’re just being overly influenced by the Dark Lord right now, Harry…try to
calm down…” Severus couldn’t believe this was happening – Harry had never truly
confronted him before and now that he was trying so hard to repair the damaged
relationship that existed between them, the boy was pulling something that
could very well destroy it permanently.
“If I was being overly fucking influenced by Tom, then both of you would
already know what it feels like for me to Crucio your asses into insanity! Is
that what you want me to do so I can prove to you how badof an influence Tom is
on me? You’re nothing but a spineless, masochistic, small minded little pervert
who’s so afraid that people won’t like him if he admits that he likes to go to
Dark Revels! Hell, it’s probably the only way you could ever get laid anyway!”
Sputtering, cheeks flushed in a mix of embarrassment and burgeoning anger,
Severus growled at the teenager who was currently ripping into him like a razor
tongued whirling dervish.
“Harry…”
“Oh, I get it, now…you won’t fight with me because I’m not a scared and
defenceless eleven year old child any more. You’ve lost your bloody advantage
now that I’m able to stand up for myself…you can’t run to Albus and whine about
how useless I am and how Minerva obviously coddles her pet Gryffindor.” Harry
smirked evilly.
If it were possible for steam to come out of Severus’ ears, it would have done
so then. His eyes darkened to true black and he snarled at the offensive child
who stood before him with his teeth bared in an open challenge to his authority
over him.
 
Remus sat back and watched the pair go after each other, his eyes going wider
and wider as Harry’s tactics became ever more venomous. Then Severus snapped
and snarled at the teenager before retaliating in kind. Keeping a close eye on
the rather viciously entertaining proceedings, he relaxed and contemplated
getting some popped corn from one of the house elves.
“It’s about time that finally happened,” he murmured to himself. “I was
beginning to think Severus would never recover after that letter…”
 
Laughing nastily, Harry shook his head at Severus and clucked his tongue.
“You are an outrageously backward sycophant and a feculent, blood-curdling
offence to all who retain a shred of good taste and decency,” he purred with an
evil glint in his green, green eyes. “You are a dreadful, unsightly fiend and a
malingering, flesh-creeping cause of wailing and gnashing of teeth.”
“I’m sorry. I don't speak ignoramus. Can you get someone to translate whatever
you just said into meaningful English before you try again? You should offer
your oratorical style to muggle hospital operating theatres as a highly-
effective alternative to unconsciousness-inducing medications,” Severus snapped
out with an equally mean smirk. “Clearly, the full expanse of your ignorance is
not yet mapped. If you had any concept of that which you are speaking, you
might actually prove to be dangerous."
“Maybe you wouldn't come across as such a jellyfish-sucking mental midget if
you weren't afflicted with an overly large case of inflated self-importance,”
the teen growled out. “Clearly, you have lost your fingertip grip on reality
and have descended into an abyss of irreversible lunacy. Only that could
explain why you insist on thinking that your opinion holds any value to someone
other than yourself!”
“Your speech is a tedious stream of babble which amounts to nothing more than
the demented cacophony of a drugged lunatic banging loudly on kitchen pots and
pans. How about putting that into proper syntax, form, and grammar so that I
can at least understand what you are saying before I dismiss it out of hand?”
the potions master snapped back.
Bored with the back and forth sharing of insults to their intelligence and
ability to string together coherent thoughts, Harry changed tactics abruptly.
He wanted this argument to burn and he was going to get his burn no matter what
he had to say to get it.
“Maybe you liked it when we were all eleven year old school children…I never
did pay attention to what you went after at the Revels and I’ve certainly never
seen you pick a fight with anyone much older than twelve…”
“How DARE you stand there and call me a paedophile you barely developed excuse
for a human being! What would you know of my sexual habits when the best you
can do is say you know your own hand intimately well! Oh, please do forgive
me…you know the Dark Lord rather intimately well, don’t you. Perhaps you two
have more going on in these meetings of yours than talking and annoying each
other…or is that just your own personal euphemism for getting fucked by a
seventy year old, snake faced, twisted, sick and disgusting pervert?”
Pausing to draw breath, Severus didn’t catch the fire that was starting to rage
in the teen’s green eyes as he opened his mouth and continued his diatribe.
“You’re nothing but a dirty-kneed boy toy for an old man that has twisted you
into the mirror image of his own sixteen year old self! Do you call him Tom
when he fucks you in your own mind or do you call him ‘Daddy’?” Severus
suddenly caught on to the fact that he just hit a potentially sore and nasty
subject that bore later consideration when he actually saw Harry’s eyes flare
to Avada Kedavra green with rage. The teen started to raise a bone white wand
he’d never seen before and there was no mistaking the threat in that action.
Harry raised his wand to snarl out a curse, his thoughts hazed by the red rage
the potions master’s words inspired. Severus attacked again verbally and he
slowly lowered his wand, but the hate filled snarl took a good bit longer to
fall from his face.
No matter how enraged he was, Severus knew he didn’t dare let this fight
escalate beyond words. Snapping out another round of insulting words aimed at
redirecting the situation, he didn’t let himself relax back into the argument
until that wand was back in its holster.
“Oh, that’s right. Turn this into a duel because you don’t have the mind for
anything else. Weak at potions, weak at your school work. All you have is
power, meagre though it is! You’re nothing but a weak willed, easily
manipulated, miserable little boy! Does Granger have to do all of your thinking
for you? Could you even get through a day without her leading you about and
telling you how to manage it?”
Grinning like a maniac, Harry let the newest rush of insults flow over him like
the lyrics of a fondly remembered song before retaliating with one of his own.
As angry as he was, this was the Severus Snape he had grown to prefer and it
was a good thing to have him back.
“You’re nothing but a jealous, power hungry sycophant who’ll bend his knee to
whomever happens to be the most powerful person around,” he snarled out while
still grinning his delight. “You lust for what you’ll never have, so you whore
yourself out to those who do. Tell me, do you and Lucius work together or is he
the only one who’ll be getting knee pads and mouthwash for Christmas?”
“Why ask me, you insolent little monster? You’re the one the Dark Lord is so
bloody fascinated by,” Severus purred meanly. “Is that what he’ll be sending
you for Christmas, hmm? Presents for his little Gryffindor catamite?”
Laughing harshly, Harry advanced into the older man’s personal space with a
lewd and lascivious leer that raised the hair on the back of both Remus and
Severus’ necks.
“I wouldn’t be the one with a cock in my mouth or any other orifice for that
matter. Try again,” Harry purred back, everything about his tone and posture
reeking of confident, thoroughly self assured power.
Unable to stand it anymore, Severus took a step back from Harry’s looming
presence and attacked about that damnable, annoying grin since he didn’t quite
know how to respond to the teen’s last disconcerting, arrogant and rather
thought provoking jab.
“What the bloody hell are you smiling about, you brainless wretch?!”
“It’s good to have you back, Severus.” Harry’s grin grew as the potions master
stood in stunned silence and stared at him with his mouth opening and closing
uselessly.
Unable to process the sudden change of mood on the part of the younger wizard,
Severus stood in stunned silence, his mouth working as he tried to formulate a
response. Finally recovering some of his verbal faculties, he responded.
“Brat,” he snapped.
“I care about you too, you snarky bastard. Now c’mon. It’s been a long bloody
day and I’m hungry.” Harry turned and led the way to the dining room. Severus
brushed past him on the way in, bouncing him off the doorjamb with a rather
painful result that drew a hiss from him. “Bastard.”
Severus just smirked and sat down at the table. Any Slytherin worth their salt
would never openly attack someone with a physical assault if they wanted to
cause them pain. That was not nearly subtle enough for their tastes. They would
simply encourage the offender into a situation that would force them to cause
themselves a great deal more pain.
“If you hadn’t been in my way, it wouldn’t have hurt,” he drawled out in a very
self-satisfied tone.
“Uh-huh. Sure. You were just trying to get even and I’m okay with that. I out
Slytherined you and you can’t deal with it,” Harry taunted playfully.
 
August_3rd,_Unplottable_Location
6:40 P.M.
Recognizing the familiar surroundings of her Lord’s audience chamber, Bellatrix
slumped to the floor and panted heavily, her breathing loudly audible until the
dying death eaters arrived. Slowly levering herself up, she froze when she saw
Voldemort lounging on his throne. Lowering her head in shame, she crawled to
him and kissed the hem of his robes.
“My Lord…”
“Since you are back in barely eight minutes when I expected you to be gone for
over fifteen and I see that you have lost six, no seven of your number, I feel
safe in assuming that things did not go according to plan,” Voldemort drawled
lazily, the volatile nature of his anger more evident because of the lack of
obvious interest in his tone. “I take it you encountered a significant force of
Aurors?”
“No, my Lord…we would have fared better had it been Aurors,” Bellatrix admitted
unhappily. “It was one young man I did not recognize at first…it was the Potter
boy, my Lord. He has grown powerful…much of the alley was destroyed around us
just from rebounding…”
“How do you know it was him? Surely he wasn’t too much for you to handle, my
darling Bella…” Voldemort taunted the defeated woman even as he sought more
information on what he knew to be the truth. This definitely bore further
investigation.
“Parseltongue, my Lord…he cast using Parseltongue, something I’ve only seen you
do…he cast the
rotting curse…”
“He did, did he now…” Voldemort purred and approached the still screaming man.
Smirking over the piercing, desperate quality of the man’s tortured screams, he
observed the rapidly progressing effects on the unfortunate Death Eater and
wondered just how his little serpent had learned this particular spell. To his
knowledge, no one but he, him self, could have taught it to Harry and he knew
that he had not done so.
“It would seem that young Harry Potter has finally found his fangs. Good. Now
things will become more interesting for all of us.” A lazily spoken Avada
Kedavra ended the man's screams permanently. “I would suggest you all brush up
on your skills if this is what you will be facing. Oh, and Bella? Do not fail
me again.”
He turned his wand on her and whispered a spell almost lovingly.
“Crucio.”
 
TRANSLATIONS
muukuugaal sheklac - honoured chieftain in goblin
***** The Conclusion of a Day *****
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from
writing about J. K. Rowling’s characters. Pity, that…
 
// Parseltongue //
 
Thoughts & Mindspeech
 
Letters, etc.
 
August_3rd,_Unplottable_Location
 
“I would suggest you all brush up on your skills if this is what you will be
facing. Oh, and Bella? Do not fail me again.”
He turned his wand on her and whispered a spell almost lovingly.
“Crucio.”
Thrashing and screaming on the floor for a surprisingly short period of time,
Bellatrix shakily forced herself back into a kneeling position and bowed her
head as shame filled her being. She had let a sixteen year old boy with a
fraction of her experience best her in a full out duel. Bellatrix Lestrange had
failed her Master and she knew that she deserved whatever punishment he chose
to bestow upon her.
Watching the penitent woman move to kneel before him yet again, Voldemort’s
lips curled up in an open expression of disappointment and barely veiled
disgust.
“Look at me, Bella. I want your memory of the duel.”
Looking up obediently despite, or perhaps because of the pain she knew the Dark
Lord would inflict during his use of Legilimency, Bellatrix focused on the
memory in question so that it would be the first thing in her thoughts.
Flinching visibly when the angry presence that was the Dark Lord filled her
mind, she did her best to remain quiet as he pulled up several other memories
as well.
Pulling the memory of the recent duel up with practiced ease, Voldemort viewed
it rapidly and set it aside for later consideration. Moving on to Bella’s
memories of her brief scuffles with Harry at the Ministry, he repeated the
process of viewing and setting aside the images.
His little Serpent seemed to have rather abruptly grown fangs and the
instinctual response to bite whatever bothered him at the time. Voldemort was
curious if the events in Diagon Alley were the first actual manifestations of
this darker edge to his little Serpent’s personality or if the signs had been
available for some time, had any one bothered to look. It’s about time I
bothered to look, he mused. It’s past time.
Making sure he had all of the memories he wished to go over more thoroughly,
Voldemort withdrew from the woman’s mind and smirked viciously.
“Leave my sight, all of you! Oh, and Bella…when next you gather my new Death
Eaters for training, you will all be training with me.”
 
August_3rd,_Office_of_Amelia_Bones,_Department_of_Magical_Law_Enforcement
 
Settling back in her seat with a low groan, Amelia Bones set her monocle on the
desk and rubbed at her eyes while she contemplated what she knew of the day’s
unprecedented events even as her mind offered up images of the destruction that
had occurred in that small section of Diagon Alley.
“The Death Eaters apparated in,” she mused aloud and could almost see the
frantic crowds as they tried to escape the black robed bogey men. “An unknown
wizard ordered what must have been a retainer or servant of some sort to get
people under cover while he advanced to openly challenge Bellatrix Lestrange as
if he knew her personally.”
Frowning over what she had just said, Amelia replaced her monocle and picked up
the transcripts of the witness interviews. Skimming through, she paused and
reread one account before nodding.
“Our nameless wizard called her by name and taunted her after his opening
attack, so he had to know her somehow, whether personally or indirectly. The
first few salvo’s were relatively calm on his part, being composed mostly of
Reductos and a few more advanced spells until she returned the taunting and
seemed to anger him with something she said, at which point they traded shots
with equal viciousness.” Amelia read through some of the other accounts again
and shuddered. “Equal only in the nature of the spells; from the looks of
things she was facing someone who was clearly way out of her league, resulting
in her panicked flight.”
Marvelling over the buoyant mood of many of the witnesses given their close
scrapes with death, she came to one clear conclusion. This wizard’s bold and
fearless attack on one of the most feared Death Eaters alive had given the
people a renewed attitude of hope they hadn’t shown since the news of
Voldemort’s return had been announced.
“No bystander deaths…copious collateral damage…well, which would you rather
have, old girl? Broken buildings and living people or dead people and pristine
buildings?” Amelia had to admit that the deadly focus of the attacking wizard
seemed to have kept the Death Eaters so thoroughly focused on him that they
never had a chance to get up to their usual mischief and all but one of the
buildings would be repaired in a matter of days. Magic was a beautiful thing.
“Who are you? I haven’t seen anyone duel like that since Albus Dumbledore and
Voldemort…”
Thinking about the Pensive memory she had seen of the duel between Albus and
Voldemort in the atrium, Amelia wondered what would have happened if Albus had
been the one duelling Bellatrix as he duelled now and shuddered. She somehow
doubted they would have had so few bystander injuries since the other Death
Eaters might have felt less cowed, allowing them the freedom to continue their
mischief and mayhem around the duelling pair.
“You weren’t always so restrained, Albus. I remember when you duelled against
Grindelwald and that was one of the wildest, most unrestrained duels I’ve ever
seen,” she mused and thought on how the older wizard had changed over the years
from a bright, charismatic and attractively powerful man into the still
intensely charismatic and powerful, but manipulative and secretive man he was
today. Thinking along those lines led her to a recollection of the day she had
been invited to join a ‘greater’ cause.
- - - Flashback - - -
Settling herself in a seat across from Albus, Amelia arched an eyebrow at him
and smiled a little.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Headmaster Dumbledore?”
“You’re a strong and intelligent woman, Amelia, and one who is in a prominent
position to make a difference in the war against Voldemort. I have a proposal
for you that could make your position even stronger,” Albus replied with a
smile, eyes twinkling merrily.
“I’m listening,” Amelia stated even as she adjusted her monocle and resisted
the urge to frown suspiciously. She didn’t know why she didn’t like the sound
of this, but something in her gut told her it wouldn’t sit very well.
“With proper guidance the wizarding world could become an ideal home for all of
us, Amelia. Right now, that guidance is weak and has been corrupted by violence
and greed,” Albus began. “I want to help make our world better, to help make it
into an ideal environment for our people to grow and be happy in. There is one
group devoted to the cause of ushering this Golden Age in to being for the
wizarding world, a group solidly in opposition to Voldemort and his violent and
dark ideas of change and conquest.”
“What group would that be?” Just hearing Dumbledore speak in such an
impassioned way about this ideal society where everyone would be happy and
peaceful made Amelia nervous. Several groups had attempted some form of Utopian
society over time and none of them had ever been more than marginally
successful. In her opinion, humans simply weren’t cut out for perfect peace –
they fought tooth and nail for everything they achieved as if it were
intrinsically tied in with their need to breathe. They would begin to stagnate
and die in such a controlled environment…until Dark Lord after Dark Lord rose
to give the people the strife and external motivation they required. She
swallowed carefully and continued to give Albus her full attention despite her
misgivings.
“The Order of the Phoenix is the name of the group I am referring to. I want to
invite you to join our ranks, Amelia. I invite you to help me, to help us, in
our quest to make our world a safe and perfect one for our children. Surely you
would want that for your self; wouldn’t you want that safety and sense of
security for Susan? Surely you want your niece to be able to live without
fear,” Albus murmured softly and cajolingly.
Feeling herself being lulled and warmed by that seductive tone and the power
that was laced through it like an intoxicatingly strong whiskey, Amelia steeled
herself against the uninvited intrusion and frowned when that comforting
feeling faded away as her mental shields re-asserted them selves.
“I will have to think on it, Headmaster Dumbledore. Given my position in the
Ministry, such things cannot be taken lightly,” Amelia replied and stood. “I
appreciate your hospitality, but I must return to my duties.”
- - - End Flashback - - -
Rubbing her arms as a bone deep chill filled her, Amelia shook her head.
“Dark Lord after Dark Lord…we’ve had three in less than sixty years if you
count Riddle separately from Voldemort…and now there’s this new wizard…” Based
on the accounts she had read, she was only too aware that this man’s respect
for life might very well not be limitless given how badly he had hurt the Death
Eaters that had managed to target him. What would have happened if the
bystanders had targeted him as well? Somehow she didn’t think things would have
turned out nearly so well. Sighing sharply, she growled and really wished the
masked bastards hadn’t all had emergency port keys presumably keyed to
Bellatrix’s.
A quiet knock pulled her from her irritated contemplation and she sighed.
“What is it?”
Angela poked her head into the Director’s office and smiled at the frazzled
older woman.
“This just came for you, Director. I think the Prophet is a little leery of
messing up on this one,” the young witch stated with a smirk. “The delivery boy
was so nervous Icould have scared him to death.”
Smiling a little despite her mood, Amelia beckoned her secretary in and sighed
when she saw what had to be a proof copy of the Daily Prophet’s most recent
edition.
“A proof copy? You may be right on with that assessment, Angela. Thank you. Has
anything further come in from the investigations going on in Diagon Alley?”
“Nothing new so far, Director. Would you like some tea? It might be a long
night…”
“Tea sounds lovely, dear. Thank you.” Amelia opened the newspaper and the very
first thing she saw was a picture taken from behind the wizard who had attacked
Bellatrix. It showed him practically looming over her, bone white wand aimed at
the terrified woman who lay cringing on the ground at his feet. Savouring the
fear on the evil woman’s face, Amelia felt a twinge of guilt shoot through the
elation this picture inspired; could she really gloat over seeing anyone, even
Lestrange brought so low? Smirking a little she decided that, yes, she most
certainly could gloat over such a thing and sat back to enjoy the hope and
freedom that image made her feel.
“Oh, the people are going to eat this up,” she breathed. “Who of us thought we
would ever get to see that mad woman afraid of anyone?” Still smiling a little
bit, Amelia focused on the first article and was surprised at how non-
confrontational it was. “I see what Angela meant…it’s possible that they are
afraid of making whoever he is mad at them, so they reined themselves in…good
show. Good show, indeed.” Reading on, she relaxed some and settled in to wait
for further information from her investigative teams.
 
The_Daily_Prophet_–_Front_Page_–_Special_Morning_Edition_August_4th,_1996
 
A NEW REASON FOR HOPE?
As the photo above demonstrates, there is no one who cannot be beaten in a duel
– no one who cannot be made to feel fear for their life. Whom ever this wizard
is, whether he be Light or Dark, we owe him a great deal of thanks for the
deaths of nearly a dozen Death Eaters and the resounding demonstration that
Bellatrix Lestrange is not without weakness.
Diagon Alley took a great deal of damage during the fast and furious duel that
took place there today just as the sun was setting, but the damage was almost
entirely collateral. Only five individuals were injured seriously enough to be
taken to St. Mungo’s for treatment and of those, only two were serious enough
to require an overnight stay.
Though the damage to Diagon Alley was appalling it can be repaired in a matter
of days. Lives cannot be replaced. Thank you, who ever you are, regardless of
your personal motivations. Today this reporter saw a reason to hope that this
war will eventually come to an end with something of our society left intact.
Do not be fooled my fellow Wizards and Witches. This is but the beginning of a
new era and we must change to meet it! Today proved to me as nothing else ever
could have that we must fight for what we believe in and to protect those we
love. Do not sit idly by and wait for someone to save you. We must save our
selves if we are to survive this new war.
By
Reginald McKinnon
 
RIVAL DARK LORD OR VIGILANTE JUSTICE?
Just barely an hour ago, this reporter witnessed one of the most terrifyingly
destructive duels of current times. Over a dozen Death Eaters apparated into
Diagon Alley near Gringotts Bank and barely got a spell off before a
mysterious, black cloaked and hooded wizard directly challenged Bellatrix
Lestrange to a duel and proceeded to attack her without mercy.
Many store fronts were damaged terribly or destroyed completely as spells flew
every which way and rebounded from the combatant’s shields. It must be stated
that this duel became so violent that the rest of the Death Eaters – those who
were alive and well enough to do so – took cover to save their own cowardly
skins. Bellatrix Lestrange fled from this unknown wizard, her fear as clear as
day on her face.
Who was this new wizard to make You Know Who’s left hand woman cower in fear
for her life? Was this a personal vendetta against Lestrange alone or was there
another motive? Only time will tell and this reporter intends to find out.
Until then, we can all only hope that the light has a new Champion against
evil.
By
Rita Skeeter
 
August_3rd,_Snape_Manor
 
Picking up the tightly rolled piece of parchment that Harry had laid on the
kitchen table once he had calmed down enough to be truly conversational again,
Remus eyed the younger wizard a little more cautiously than usual.
“Whatever is on this parchment really set you off earlier today while we were
at Gringotts. Are you sure you want to get into it now?”
“I need to know what really happened to lead up to what you’ll find on that
parchment,” Harry stated calmly. “I’m going to go to the library and read and
you two can do what ever you want to try and figure it out. It’s not something
I want to deal with right now, so please leave me out of it until tomorrow at
the earliest.” With that statement made, he turned on his heel and left the
dining room in a swirl of billowing robes.
“That was just strange,” Severus observed dryly. “Has he had this attitude all
along or was I too blinded by my own need for atonement to notice?”
“Hmm? Part of it he had from the time we brought him here and yes, I think you
were blind to it most of the time,” the werewolf mused and unrolled the
genealogy onto the table so they could both go over it at the same time.
“This…almost arrogant presence, though? That appeared rather abruptly just
before his duel with Bellatrix and it has been fading since you two fought it
out, but…”
“But it’s still clearly noticeable,” Severus finished for Remus. Leaning over
the parchment with the werewolf, he traced the Potter line back to Gryffindor
with ease. “Well, he was right when he said nothing looks out of the ordinary
on the Potter side,” he mused.
“It isn’t the Potter side that set him off though.” Remus drew the spy’s gaze
to the Evan’s line and traced it up, only to stop a generation back and circle
his finger between two names. “Ambrosius Reginald Evans…the very late Lord
Evans that Harry said was actually Lord Grindelwald and Tom Marvolo Riddle…”
“The Dark Lord is his grandfather and Grindelwald is his great grandfather…”
Severus pulled out a chair and sat down slowly as the potential ramifications
of that kind of family history hit him like a ton of bricks. Many
characteristics tended to follow family lines and Harry’s maternal line of
descent was full of Dark Lords.
“What do you really think are the odds that Lily’s mother had consensual
relations with Tom Riddle?”
“I don’t think it’s very likely at all, but he always could be a charming and
seductive bastard when he wanted to be, or so I have been told, in any case…”
Remus shook his head and nudged Severus. “You fell for the bait at one time
yourself.”
“Yes, but for power, not for sex,” Severus pointed out. “I don’t know if he
ever had any lovers on the side that were anything more than a way for him to
vent his frustrations and fill his physical needs…he’s too possessive for
something so casual as that…and she was Grindelwald’s daughter…that would have
been a major score for him if he knew who she was.”
“A major score…yes, she would have been that,” Remus admitted. “Look at
Lily…she was beautiful and strong. If her mother was anything like her on top
of being the child of the late Dark Lord, then I fully agree. So, how do we go
about getting the information that Harry is requesting?”
“We can’t very well just go walk into St. Mungo’s and the Ministry and ask for
it,” Severus declared. “And with Albus looking for you, you couldn’t do it
anyway.”
“We can’t as things stand right now, no…and I agree about my need to not show
my face publicly for the time being.” Remus grinned. “As it stands, I need to
check on something, but if I’m right, it wouldn’t put either of us in any more
of a pickle than we’re already in thanks to the ritual vows and it would give
us the legal authority to get information and set things up on Harry’s
request…”
“I’m not going to like this, am I, Wolf?” Severus asked with a thunderous
scowl.
“I don’t know. You might. You might not…but how do you like the sound of
Steward Snape and Chamberlain Lupin?” Remus grinned wolfishly.
Severus sat back further in his seat and eyed Remus for several long moments
before his face took on a considering, calculating expression that soon turned
into a smirk.
“You’re talking about the old Retainer Oath, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. I’m going to look into it before I formally propose it to Harry. I
want to make sure it isn’t going to make things worse instead of better in a
twisted way…” The werewolf laughed a little. “I’m not sure how I’m managing to
handle one master, as it were. How do you manage with three very powerful
Masters who all think they have your complete loyalty?”
“Three?” Severus snorted. “I only have one Master and he scares the hell out of
me lately. The Dark Lord and Albus…I can predict what they’re going to do and
they are definitely not my masters no matter how much they would like to think
so…”
“What brought you to this realization?” Remus asked, his amber eyes bright with
curiosity. The spy seemed a great deal more relaxed and settled since his
verbal battle with Harry and he wondered if this epiphany had occurred during
that same battle of wills.
“I remembered my vow while we were fighting…right about the time he started to
turn that new wand of his on me.” The potions master eyed Remus intently. “I
could feel the bloody wave of power rising right along with his hand…what the
hell is that thing made of? He’d have killed me in the mood he was in…”
“That was probably the one time during your spat that I got worried,” Remus
admitted and then sat up straighter, eyes going wide as he recalled one of the
things he was supposed to do. “Oh, bollocks, Fang! Yes, we definitely need to
talk about that and you need to make anti-venom!”
“What are you going on about, Wolf?”
“Harry’s new wand is made from the fang of that Basilisk he killed in second
year. Ollivander said it will remain deadly for centuries, possibly permanently
now that it is being used as a wand…So we need anti-venom in case one of us
touches the wand accidentally or out of necessity…might not hurt to make one
for Harry’s blood, too,” the werewolf mused as an afterthought. He all too
clearly recalled the acrid scent of poison that filled the air whenever the
teen had cut him self during the day’s proceedings.
Severus swore he could feel the colour draining from his own face when Remus
explained why they were going to need Basilisk anti-venom. A Basilisk fang
wand?! How the bloody hell…
“He isn’t affected by it?”
“Not a bit and even Ollivander was surprised by that. Didn’t you notice that he
handled it with his bare hands at Gringotts?” Remus asked with an arched
eyebrow.
“I suppose I didn’t think anything of it. He handled it like it was an ordinary
plain piece of bone…and I honestly didn’t think about the fang’s potential
properties since the beast it belonged to was already dead. We need to pull out
my Pensive so you can show me what went on at Ollivander’s and then duel in the
Alley…” Visibly shaken, but recovering quickly, Severus focused on Remus with
an intent stare. “He scared you, too, didn’t he?” There was no doubt or
question in Severus’ tone when he made his statement.
“Merlin’s balls, yes…I’ve never seen anything like that duel…”
“So give me a moment to fetch my Pensive and you can show me this incredible
duel,” Severus stated and hurried off to do just that.
Shaking his head, Remus groaned and shook his head. He was torn between wanting
to see the duel again from a safe perspective with the input of an impartial
observer and never wanting to see his cub cast those dark spells ever again.
Composing himself, he focused himself on the two major events he wanted to
share with the potions master so he could move them to the Pensive with greater
ease.
“Are you sure you’re up to this, Moony? We can wait…”
“No, it’s alright. You need to know what went on and for all I know, you’ll see
something important that wouldn’t mean anything to me.”
“We’ll see.” Severus sat the enchanted bowl in front of Remus and then returned
to his own seat. “Which memory will we be viewing first?”
“We’ll view the two in order; first the wand making at Ollivander’s, then the
duel outside in the Alley. It’s practically one continuous memory, anyway, so
it will be easier to follow it that way.” Taking a deep breath, Remus touched
his wand to his temple and withdrew a silvery strand of luminescence which he
then dropped into the Pensive. Looking into the swirling silver mist, the
werewolf arched an eyebrow and raised his head to meet Severus’ gaze. “Shall
we? This is going to take a while.”
Dropping into the memory as if from a great height, the two men took a moment
to look around and relaxed into the familiar setting that was Ollivander’s wand
shop. They watched as Harry and Remus stepped into the shop and were greeted by
Ollivander.
 
Turning his gaze to the tallest of the pair, Ollivander smiled slightly.
“I almost didn’t recognize you, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven
inches, nice and supple, superb for defence and charms and good for
transfiguration. How is it serving you?”
 
Severus gestured to pause the memory play-back spell and shook his head at
Moony.
“Ollivander almost didn’t recognize him? That creepy old man recognizes
everyone including the Dark Lord regardless of glamour charms and a change of
body.”
“I admit it does make one think now that I can view the conversation as an
observer,” the werewolf mused. “I wasn’t aware of him being that different.”
“Indeed,” Severus mused and re-started the memory. Dark eyes following the
interaction between Harry and Ollivander, the potions master had to chuckle a
bit. “Ollivander does seem to like Harry, though.”
“I think he does genuinely like him,” Remus agreed and continued to observe.
 
“Ah, so you need a duelling wand, something you can pour some power into
without the worry of damage to the wand itself.” The silver eyed wand maker
studied Harry intently before arching an eyebrow. “May I see your replacement
wand? I’m curious what worked for you now that you seem to have outgrown your
first wand.”
Pulling the red lacquered wand out of its forearm holster, Harry laid it on the
counter and watched Ollivander intently.
“Dobby found it in a bin of used wands at a junk shop in Knockturn Alley.”
“A junk shop?!” Ollivander threw the teen an indignant look while he studied
the red wand. “What tragedy brought this beauty to such a lowly place…though in
the end, it has found a worthy home…” He sighed.
“If memory serves me, which it rarely fails to do, then this is an Imperial
wand,” Ollivander explained. “Given the quality and the fact that the core is
an Imperial Dragon heartstring, I feel safe in guessing that it may have
belonged to one of the Emperor’s during the Ming Dynasty.”
 
Severus half choked when Ollivander announced the wand’s origin.
“Ming Dynasty?! How the bloody hell..!?” Severus stared at Moony disbelievingly
and then returned to watching.
“That’s what Ollivander said, Severus. I don’t know one way or the other and
didn’t see a point in questioning the judgement of the creepy old man, as you
so charmingly dubbed him.”
Shooting a sharp glance over at Remus, Severus shook his head and gave his
focus back to the memory once more. Following the trio into the older wizard’s
workroom, he looked around briefly before turning back to study the memory
Harry and Ollivander.
 
“What do you want me to cast?” The raven haired teen twirled his wand between
his fingers for a moment before settling into a relaxed looking duelling
stance.
 
“Did you notice that, Moony? The way he twirled his wand through his fingers…”
“Yeah, so? He’s been doing that off and on at least since we snatched him up.
What makes it so important?” Remus squeezed Severus shoulder gently and hoped
the spy would relax some.
“The Dark Lord does that all the time when he’s thinking,” Severus replied and
nodded to acknowledge Remus’ attempt at comfort. “I’ll be fine, Moony. It’s
just a little disturbing to see how similar they are…especially now that He’s
taking the restoration potions…”
Remus nodded and redirected Severus to watch Harry in the casting range. He
couldn’t help but grin when that first reducto screamed down the length of the
range and impacted against the wall with a dull rumble.
 
“Those aren’t supposed to be that bright. Every thing I cast with this wand
seems to come out more powerful than I planned anyway, so maybe that’s what it
is…”
Ollivander smiled encouragingly and nodded.
“A truly well matched wand will do that. Unfortunately this wand cannot handle
your full capability, but go ahead and push a little. Let me get a feel for
your magic.”
“Okay…how about a Patronus? That was one I could do with my old wand, so it
might still work with this one.”
“That’s reasonable. Go ahead and try.”
A contented smile curved the teen’s lips and he raised his wand. Dropping it
abruptly, Harry hissed angrily while shaking his obviously burned hand. He
froze when Ollivander caught his hand between both of his own and whispered
something under his breath.
 
“Yes, that first spell was just a Reducto,” Remus stated before Severus could
even ask. “A low powered one according to his estimation.”
“He very nearly overloaded the wand by simply drawing up the magic for a
Patronus? Morrigan…” Severus sighed explosively. “And then you tell him to cast
it wandlessly?”
“He manages it magnificently. Watch. The show just gets better.”
 
The green-eyed teen relaxed visibly, smiled and cast with a sharp outward
thrust of his hand. Light seemed to burst from his fingertips and Prongs formed
up into stark detail. The Patronus trotted around the room briefly and then the
large stag moved towards Harry with a disappointed sounding snort. Brushing
past Ollivander with enough contact to rock the man back on his heels, Prongs
nuzzled Harry’s hand and faded away into nothingness.
 
Severus closed his mouth with an audible click and watched the young man
wandlessly conjure a Patronus that physically shouldered Ollivander out of the
way and made noise as its hooves hit the floor. Mouth falling open in a silent
expression of fearful awe, he turned to look at Remus with a questioning look
in his eyes.
“Yes, it was tangible, audible and damn near fully corporeal.” Remus shivered.
“It was hard to breathe when he cast that spell. Keep watching. The wand making
is the most fascinating part.”
“I will remember that. He looked so happy there for a little bit. I’m glad you
were able to help distract him from what we now know was bothering him,”
Severus muttered and watched impassively until Ollivander handed Harry a
narwhal horn wand. The boy’s reaction was pricelessly funny and the dark eyed
spy’s laughter announced his opinion better than any words. “So much for the
illusion that he’s still a light wizard…”
“That was pretty funny, but I haven’t given up on Harry being a Light wizard,”
the werewolf countered and ignored Severus’ amused, almost pitying expression.
“He looked at that wand like it had done something offensive and, as much as it
takes getting used to, hearing him hissing at it just made it even more
amusing.”
 
“Next?” Harry asked with a wry laugh.
“Next we figure out what to use as the shaft of the new wand. Is there anything
you feel a particular affinity towards?” Ollivander arched an eyebrow when
Harry pulled a foot and a half long shaft of some white bone like material out
of his robes and laid it on the work table. His hand hovered over it and his
silvery eyes went wide.
“A very old basilisk…I feel phoenix here, in the clean area. Would you know
anything about that?”
“Fawkes…so that’;s how it got into my room,” Harry mused. “It was on my bed
when I came out of the bathroom this morning and I thought that Dobby had
brought it to me from the Chamber.”
 
“I think he’s getting used to having to tell some of his stories,” Remus mused.
“It didn’t seem to make him quite as uncomfortable this time.”
“Or it simply didn’t bother him to tell Ollivander,” Severus speculated.
 
Contemplating the fang, then Harry, Ollivander nodded to himself before
frowning a little.
“Very few cores will be compatible with this fang due to the reactivity of the
venom. I will collect those that I have and see which one you react most
favourably to.”
“Would it help if you had something to act as a balance? I have basilisk venom
and phoenix tears in my blood and it’s the same venom as the basilisk that lost
this fang.”
 
“He didn’t appear to have any idea what I was talking about at Gringotts when I
said his blood smelled of poison, but here he is talking about the Basilisk
venom and Phoenix tears in his blood like it’s something everyone has happen to
them…” Remus frowned a little.
“Both reactions could be genuine…we’ll have to ask him and possibly even ask
the Mind Healer. You’re right to wonder about it.”
 
“The freedom of flight, hatred and a desire for vengeance on the betrayer and
love and loyalty to family; those are all very helpful and motivationally
powerful emotions,” Ollivander murmured. “Given your affinity with serpents,
that gives me a few ideas I might never have considered before.” He went to a
large wardrobe and spoke so quietly they could barely hear what he said before
the soft click of an opening lock was heard.
“What language is that?” Harry gave the wand maker a look crossed between
confusion and intense concentration. “I can almost understand it…it feels like
I should, but I can’t…”
Visibly surprised, Ollivander met Harry’s gaze and seemed to search for
something before nodding slightly. He smiled a little.
 
“He feels so intensely about a great many things. No wonder he tends to swing
from one extreme to the next,” Severus whispered. “And what was that with the
language?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Remus admitted. “That’s another thing I meant to ask
Harry about but there hasn’t been time. Keep watching. The next part is quite
intriguing.”
 
“Give me a moment and I will lay the cores out on the work table. Kindly turn
your back, as I do not want anything to interfere in your choice,” Ollivander
instructed. “Keep your eyes closed and I will have Remus lead you over when I
am ready for you to choose a core.” The wand maker pulled a double handful of
different shaped and sized phials out of the heavily warded cupboard.
“Oh…what is that?” Eyes still closed, Harry turned back towards Ollivander and
reached out to him. “It feels like flying…”
“How does the basilisk fang ‘feel’ to you, Harry?” Remus quirked a grin at
Ollivander and nodded agreeably when the wand maker arched an eyebrow at him.
“If something over there feels like flying, how does the fang feel?”
“Vengeance and pain,” Harry whispered in a harsh tone, face hardening for but a
moment before that other feeling pulled at him again. “It must be a feather or
a part of something that flies…it has to be to feel like this…”
“That narrows things down quite a bit,” Ollivander commented wryly and put away
all but three of the phials. He looked down at what he held and focused on one
vial before putting all but that one away. He closed the cupboard and slowly
crossed the room towards the almost vibrating teenager. Placing a long, slender
glass tube in Harry’s hand, he took a step back and watched the relief flow
over him as his body visibly relaxed.
Harry hissed something in Parseltongue and shivered while holding the vial like
it was incredibly precious to him.
“What in the world is that?” Remus whispered, amber eyes a bit wide as he
watched Harry commune with a clearly very magical feather.
“That is perhaps the rarest core material in my possession,” Ollivander replied
just as quietly. “It is the feather of a nearly extinct South American winged
serpent named the Kukulkan for the High Dragon it resembles. They are very
magical, wickedly intelligent, deadly poisonous and a beautiful sight to see. I
am not surprised by his choice now that I think about it.”
 
“Basilisk fang and Kukulkan feather?!” Severus practically squeaked in his
shock. “Do you have any idea what I would give to have just one small feather
from one of those snakes? That damnable Basilisk fang alone…” The potions
master made a low, almost pain filled sound under his breath. “The potions I
could make…”
“So talk to Harry. I’m sure he knows where the rest of the Basilisk is,” Remus
pointed out with a burst of genuinely amused laughter. “I can’t help you with
the feather, though.”
“I’ll do that,” Severus stated. “I will definitely be doing that.”
 
“Will this work with the fang?”
“Given the similar natures of both serpents, I believe so, but I would prefer
to use you blood as a binder just in case there is a negative reaction. I only
need a small vial full.” Conjuring the aforementioned vial, Ollivander pressed
it to Harry’s offered arm and muttered a short spell under his breath; removing
the vial that was now full of dark red blood and a swirling silvery
luminescence, he took a step back to admire the contents much like Harry had
done with the feather.
“My word, you were quite serious about the unusual properties of your blood,
young man. Well, lets get your wand made, shall we? The difficult part is over
– all you have to do now is watch.”
 
“And then he actually takes Harry’s blood to use in the wand? I’ve seen a lot
of blood over the years and none of it looked like that…Merlin’s balls, Remus…I
wouldn’t want to touch that wand even if I can make an antivenin. Unless the
poison in Harry’s blood is actually still Basilisk, I may not be able to make a
completely effective counter agent…I will do some tests and we shall see what
can be done.”
“Are you…you are serious.” Remus shook his head. “Bloody hell…keep
watching…this part is really neat.”
 
Shaking his head, the wand maker tuned his companions out and focused on the
large fang that lay in front of him. Seemingly as an after thought, he pulled
out his tape measure and gestured for Harry to stand.
“I can’t very well go by your old measurements, now can I?” The tape measure
snaked out to measure the length of Harry’s arms and a few other seemingly
meaningless measurements before coiling up in Ollivander’s hand, who then
returned it to his pocket. “Excellent. Now I can begin.”
Remus sat forward beside his cub and watched with open fascination as power
rolled out from the older wizard’s hands and shaped the fang into a
decoratively designed grip and smooth shafted wand that gleamed dangerously in
the candle light.
Nodding his satisfaction with the length of the actual wand and the shape of
the grip after a final inspection of Harry’s wand hand, Ollivander poured the
vial of blood over the smooth ivory and used his magic to force it into the
hollow space inside. Pulling the Kukulkan feather from its vial with careful
reverence, he laid it on the shaft of the wand and had barely begun to ‘push’
with his own power before it vanished into the core with a visible shimmer of
discharged magic.
“How curious,” Ollivander mused and looked up at Harry. “But then, I tend to
say things like that around you quite frequently, so why should now be any
different, hmm? Basilisk fang and Kukulkan feather, fourteen and a half inches.
This will be a superb wand for the Dark Arts, curses and hexes. Take up your
wand, young man and go to the practice area before you so much as give it a
wave. I dare say sparks are the very least of my expectations with this Master
Work.”
 
Chuckling a little, eyes full of a dozen emotions, Severus shook his head and
squeezed Remus’ shoulder firmly before sighing.
“A Master Work…a deadly dangerous one at that…I think the Dark Lord may not
know what hit him if Harry uses that against him.”
“You might be right. The wand certainly reacted powerfully with his magic and,
well, you’ll see what I mean once we get to the duel. What he does in here is
just playing around.”
 
Harry strode over to the practice area, his aura rising around him like heat
shimmer as he raised his wand to cast the first spell.
“There! That’s what happened when we were fighting!” Severus stared as just the
act of preparing to use the fang wand brought his aura into view. “At least he
wasn’t angry when he was testing it…”
 
Remus froze when a bright green spell was sent down the range, his face going
pale and shocked. Then Harry laughed his delight and said the spell he’d used
loudly enough for him to clearly hear it.
“Tersus Scaphium!”
Having just finished watching with open delight as Ollivander guided Harry
through the process of making a custom wand; Severus almost wished he hadn’t
missed the real event. If anything could have sealed his certainty on the
issue, it was the look on Moony’s face when Harry first cast the pot cleaning
spell.
“The Pot Cleaning spell…where the hell does he get these ideas?” Severus
muttered with a slight smirk.
“He probably came up with it the same way Sirius would have…totally by
accident, brat that he is,” Remus grumbled. “Ollivander loved it, though. He
was so busy encouraging Harry to take the paint off the walls that I think he
forgot that he’s supposed to be this reserved old man. Okay, now we come up on
the point where things get crazy.”
 
“Make sure you break it in well, Mr. Potter. Your power and the wand must
become well acquainted or it could prove to be a bit temperamental at times,”
Ollivander reminded the currently smiling teen. “I’m not sure what spells you’d
use to push your limits with it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if your mentors
can’t come up with a few suggestions.”
 
“That statement wouldn’t bother me so much if I didn’t get the feeling that the
Dark Lord is encouraging Harry to study things we wouldn’t let him within a
hundred miles of,” Severus muttered sullenly.
“In other words, you group Voldemort in with us as one of Harry’s mentors?”
Remus arched an eyebrow and paled a little when he thought about that. “That is
a bit scary to contemplate…can we keep him in line?”
“We don’t stand a chance of it without help. You know Miss Granger and Miss
Weasley are the ones who keep him in line,” the spy countered with a perfectly
straight face.
“Ha ha,” Remus muttered and shook his head. Sadly, he didn’t think Severus was
trying to be funny.
 
The calm of the previous few hours was shattered by the sharp sounds of
multiple apparitions coming straight into the shopping crowds. Harry
straightened abruptly, his aura appearing around him in its typical nearly
invisible shimmers and he started to bark out orders at Remus.
“Death Eaters! Get as many people under cover as you can without getting
yourself killed, Moony. I’ve got this.”
“Cub, damn it!”
 
Remus watched him self obey Harry’s orders despite his desire to protect his
Cub and realized that he had been compelled to do as he was told. He wasn’t
sure how he wound up back under Ollivander’s wards, but he had to admit they
were some of the most incredible magical constructs he had ever seen.
“His wards are incredible by the way. Almost nothing got through them.”
“Did he just pull you out of the way of an Avada Kedavra?” Eyes wide, Severus
stared at Remus after seeing the older wizard calmly reach out and pull Remus
exactly far enough out of the way to avoid being hit by a jet of green light.
“That was creepy, Moony.”
“Uh-huh,” Remus agreed. “Especially since I didn’t notice that spell at the
time…and he wasn’t even looking in that direction…” Keenly aware of how
dangerously close he had come to dying, the werewolf shuddered and rubbed his
arms vigorously. “Damn…”
 
The angry resentment Harry had been swallowing down since he first saw his
genealogical parchment flared into full flame and found a focus when his eyes
lighted on the unmasked face of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Shifting into a looser, more open duelling stance, he growled under his breath
and glanced over at the still scrambling werewolf.
 
Severus observed the moment Harry noticed Bellatrix and frowned. The teen had
been in his classic, predictably text book duelling stance until that moment.
“He changed his stance…he’s never done that before…”
 
“Reducto! Bella! Oh Bella!” Harry called out to her in a mocking, sing-song
tone and advanced on the mad woman. His spell bounced off her shield spell but
still managed to push her back a bit.
“Wh-Protego!” Defending herself against attack before she was consciously aware
of its source, Bellatrix gestured sharply for the other Death Eaters to
continue with their objective – mass, wanton destruction. Grinning madly, she
responded with an attack of her own and advanced on her opponent.
“Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Sectumsempra!”
 
“Look at the way he’s moving,” Severus muttered. “That swaying, disgustingly
graceful way he’s dodging spells that should have hit him…”
“He moves like a snake,” Remus stated and then blinked when he realized exactly
what he had just said. “Tell me what you’re seeing because I don’t have any
real context to base it on.”
“The spells are fairly calm and basic so far, but he started moving like a
seasoned duellist as soon as he spotted Bella. Now he’s moving like the Dark
Lord would if he had Harry’s body. It’s quite disturbing…”
 
“Vomica Cruor!”
Harry avoided the majority of Bellatrix’s spells and yelped out his pain when
the bone breaking hex grazed his left arm and shattered his humerus. Vision
flaring to red as the rage and pain consumed him and kept him on his feet, he
assessed his surroundings and renewed his own attack to give himself time to
heal his arm while the enemy was recovering from their own wounds.
 
Remus shuddered when he heard Harry scream as if for the first time, but this
time he also saw the moment that Harry stopped trying to win and set out to
dominate, destroy and eventually kill his opponent.
“What am I seeing…what just happened to him?”
“I’m not sure and only Harry can truly explain it, but there’s his true aura,”
Severus whispered quietly. “And there’s the most frightening sight I think I
have ever seen short of being on the business end of the Dark Lord’s wand when
he’s punishing someone for something.”
“Harry’s not using Crucio,” Remus protested.
“Neither does the Dark Lord when he is out to teach you a proper lesson in
obedience and respect…” Severus shuddered when Harry began to toy with Bella,
his attacks reducing her to a cowering, huddled form on the street. “If the
Dark Lord tells you to draw your wand, you had best do it because refusing to
fight him will only make it worse…and Merlin forbid you should manage to land a
hit on him like she did when she hit Harry’s arm…”
“You’ve been through something like this, fighting Voldemort because he was
angry with you?”
“It was before his defeat, during the first war…it only happened once and I
never questioned another order…” The spy watched with rapt attention as Harry
embraced his power and used it with a frightening level of skill and refined
control, the green and black flames of his aura only increasing the sense of
awe he felt.
“Here it comes,” Remus whispered. “This is what scared me more than anything
else I’ve ever seen…”
 
Harry raised his bone white wand and aimed it directly at Bellatrix. He hissed
out a spell and sickly yellowish-green energy coalesced around his hand and the
wand it held before shooting out towards Bellatrix. It was clear that the mad
woman recognized the spell when she broke her own attack and dove out of the
way of the incoming spell.
Turning, Bellatrix risked a glance up as her closed her hand on something
inside her robes. She met the gaze of her tormentor as he stalked towards her
and cowered away from him. Pale and shaken, her fear clearly visible to any who
could see her face just before she vanished, Bellatrix Lestrange ran from an
opponent for the first time in recent memory.
 
“The Rotting Curse…I don’t know what it’s actually called since it’s a
Parseltongue spell, but I’ve seen it used on people…it’s a slow and
excruciatingly painful way to die if the screams are anything to go by…”
Looking a little green, Severus swallowed carefully. “I’ve seen enough…”
‘Falling’ out of the Pensive, Severus sat and rocked in his seat for a few
minutes before his colour finally began to return to it’s usual and proper
paleness and lost the faint green tinge that it had held at the end of the
duel.
“I’m not sure he was even aware of what he was doing he was so angry and that’s
something we definitely have got to get him to work on controlling. If he lost
it like that at Hogwarts…”
 
August_3rd,_Snape_Manor
 
Curious about how Harry had fared with his maturity and about the source of the
intense anger that had been simmering and sparking through the younger wizard’s
moods for the better part of the entire day, Voldemort stepped through the
doorway between their minds and looked around before calling out to the teen.
“Are you busy, my little Serpent?” Voldemort took a second, more detailed look
around the Chamber that was his rival’s inner core and shook his head. It had
been changing gradually over the last few weeks and now it was truly a
beautiful place of personal power. Gone were all of the blemishes that had
marred it during previous visits, leaving behind the essentials of what Harry
Potter truly was; unfortunately the Dark Lord still hadn’t managed to
completely figure out what those essentials were.
Aware of Tom the moment he stepped into his mind, Harry went to see what the
older wizard wanted so he could send him on his way as quickly as possible.
Despite his current and immediate resolution to let the past lie in the past,
he wasn’t very keen on spending the next few hours making polite conversation
with someone he was still more than a little ticked off at.
“What do you want, Voldemort?”
The Dark Lord frowned. His little serpent had called him Tom ever since he had
figured out who was talking to him in his mind, and though it had annoyed him
at first, it had also become comfortable…he had liked the easy, almost friendly
familiarity of being called by his birth name. To have Harry change their
dynamic now, to be able to feel him pull away and distance him self from the
easy interaction they had been sharing disturbed him in a way he couldn’t quite
put into words.
“What has happened, my little Serpent? What has changed?” Green eyes stared at
him and they were filled with a disturbing mixture of so many emotions that
Voldemort couldn’t quite figure out what Harry was feeling. Then Harry started
to speak and he began to understand that a great deal more than Harry’s magic
and physical form had changed during his maturity.
“I’ve come to the realization that Fate must hate me very much, that or it
hates us both with equal venom…I’m not a hundred percent sure which way that
goes,” Harry began in a tone of utter calm that belied the tumultuous nature of
his emotions. “Why else would it insist on continuously throwing you and I into
ever more convoluted and twisted situations that should inspire us to hate each
other beyond words while still leaving us so intimately bound to each other’s
essence?”
Voldemort felt his body go cold at the fury that filled Harry’s Avada Kedavra
eyes and whipped the teen’s magic into a wild frenzy. Why had it never occurred
to him that there might be a very valid reason for the boy to have eyes the
colour of Death? At that moment he was fairly certain he was looking at his own
end and that to attempt to lie to or mislead the younger man at this particular
moment in time would guarantee him the same slow and pain filled end that Harry
had intended for Bella. “I’m not quite sure which specific situation you are
referring to, my Serpent, but I cannot argue with the sentiment…”
“Oh, I’m referring to several situations, actually,” Harry ground out. If he
was going to have to deal with this can of worms now, then he was going to rip
it wide open and get it all out in the open. How Tom responded would determine
how he, Harry, chose to react later. “How about the night you raped my
grandmother and got her pregnant? How about you finally decide to come clean
with me about my Mother.”
Taking a deep breath, Harry simply watched the older wizard before speaking yet
again.
“While I was growing up, I hated living with the Dursleys, my so called Aunt
and Uncle. I dreamed every day of having some sort of family besides them. Then
I found out I was a Wizard and began to hope that I might have a magical family
member who could take me in and save me from the Muggles who so clearly hated
me for being a ‘freak’. Fate was at least kind enough to spare me the unending
disgust of actually being blood related to them,” Harry stated venomously. “But
then we come to the question of my actual blood relations, don’t we
Grandfather? Fate sure stepped in and shafted that dream, didn’t it!”
“You were never meant to know that,” Voldemort stated as calmly as possible
despite the jumble his own emotions had been thrown into. “I knew that I had a
daughter before she was even born and I ignored her existence because a female
child could never be my Heir…I had no use for her…I did not know that Lily was
that female child until I saw her again and looked into a face I never could
forget.”
“Angelique Evans,” Harry whispered.
Voldemort simply nodded his agreement and continued speaking as if Harry had
never interrupted him.
“I chose her because she was Grindelwald’s only surviving child and the most
powerful, strong willed woman I had ever encountered…she was so like
Grindelwald in that way…” He shook his head. “She survived our little Revel
because the Auror’s interrupted us. Many years later Lily turned up as a most
persistent and annoying thorn in my side and then the prophecy was delivered to
me and I knew she had to be the one…her child would be the one to bring me low
if I gave it the chance to grow up…”
Losing himself in his own thoughts, Harry was unaware of the sudden appearance
of his aura and the way he had advanced on Tom in a storm of angry, swirling
and thrashing power.
Seeing Harry’s eyes go distant and introspective, Voldemort kept himself on
alert but was still completely unprepared for the sudden assault of emotion
driven power that drove him backwards for every step the younger wizard
advanced. Shielding him self aggressively, heels dug into keep from giving up
more ground than he could absolutely help doing, the Dark Lord rode out the
storm that was holding him locked in his bonded’s mind.
Thanks to an intimate knowledge of Tom’s memories, Harry was very well aware
that family was not something the twisted man in front of him had ever spared a
thought for but Harry also knew that Voldemort had thought twice before
striking his own daughter down. He had been through both Tom’s memories of that
night and his own and they still made him frown with confused anger and hurt.
It had always bothered him that his mother, fierce fighter that she was, chose
to plead for mercy from a man who was publicly known for having absolutely no
concept of what mercy was. Had she known that the beast who came to kill her
and her family was her own blood or had she simply succumbed to the desperate
need to protect her child at all costs? Did anyone else know of the rather
sordid connection between the two rivals? He wondered as his most prominent
memory of his parents played through his mind.
 Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off —”
The sounds of someone stumbling from a room — a door bursting open — a cackle
of high- pitched laughter —
“Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I’ll do anything —”
“Stand aside — stand aside, girl —”
Why didn’t she rain spells down on him the moment she heard him at the bedroom
door? Harry could understand Tom taunting her…that was something anyone would
have expected him to do, but why had he hesitated for even a moment before
using lethal force? Why hadn’t he just killed her outright instead of telling
her to stand aside more than once? It seemed to be terribly out of character
for the driven, power hungry man he had been and the cruel Dark Lord he had
become.
Harry abruptly looked up and met Tom’s gaze, his attention focusing his power
on the source of his ire. Advancing until he had him pinned to the wall, Harry
growled under his breath.
Pinned against the wall as much by Harry’s power as by his searching gaze,
Voldemort shook his head as if to clear it. When had he lost control of
everything? When had this boy become such a formidable man, a power to be truly
reckoned with? He knew the answer and that cold certainty made him pull up his
own memory of the night he had first seen this fearsome force of will with an
almost fearful hesitance. Reviewing it, he realized that he had acted with his
usual brutal expediency until he had stood face to face, wand against wand,
with the boy who should have been his heir, not his enemy. He had known who
Harry was to him, who this irritating child was to him, and in his egotistical
madness, had tried to kill him yet again.
Frowning fiercely, Voldemort met Harry’s gaze and realized that his little
Serpent still didn’t hate him and that knowledge disturbed him even as it
elated him. “How can you still not hate me after everything that has happened?
I would have struck you down already if you had done to me a fraction of the
things I have done to you…”
“Would you have been able to kill me, Tom? Do you hate me enough to kill me
right now? Do you hate me at all?” Harry advanced in on the older man and met
his red gaze with unflinching green. “Did you ever hate me or were you just
going through the motions because you were supposed to hate me? Well, Tom?!”
“No,” Voldemort whispered in reply and pressed himself harder against the wall.
“I’m not completely certain I ever did hate you…I wanted to early on when you
insisted on defying me at every turn and succeeded. I hated that a child could
do this to me, could reduce me to nothing but a spectre and a memory used to
frighten errant children into obedience…but I didn’t hate the child…” He shook
his head and stepped away from the wall, placing himself barely a foot away
from Harry and let his own emotion driven magic join the frenzied maelstrom
that was whipping around and through them. The ease with which their power
meshed and merged around them was not lost on him. “I don’t hate you, my little
Serpent,” he declared and vanished back into his own mind. He had much to think
on.
Trembling in reaction to the seamless meshing of his power with Tom’s and the
emotional catharsis he had just willingly put himself through, Harry threw
himself from his trance and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Looking around
at the destruction his magic had reeked on the sitting room he had secluded
himself in, he shook his head in silent denial and coiled up into a tight ball
when heaving, body shaking sobs broke free and escaped his mouth as primal,
angry, pain filled cries.
 
Authors Note: Hello everyone! Sorry for the wait and for the shorter than usual
chapter, but between work, life and my Muses, this is about all I have managed
to actually pen out. Never fear – I am NOT going to stop writing on TSDW. I
simply have five or six other projects that you will all be seeing in the near
future. The most important point to this note, however, is that I am going to
be participating in the NaNoWriMo challenge (National Novel Writing Month), so
it will most likely be December before I post anything new on my stories.
Whatever I write in November, be it Fan Fiction or an original work, will be
posted on the appropriate sites and at my Yahoo group in December. Thank you
all for your support, your reviews and the time you take to read my work.
Cheers!
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their work!