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The Power of the Potters

By: RockIll

Complete! With a Light Lord interfering in Potter Family matters and a

Dark Lord hell-bent on killing off the Potters, a cadet branch of the Potter

family has to act. Armed with knowledge, Family Magik, and supported

by many cousins, Harry takes Magical England by storm. Realistic

characters and some bashing, HHR with less focus on pairings. Betaed by

Marc the Unruly

Rated: Fiction M - English - Family - Harry P., Hermione G. - Chapters: 21

- Words: 128,242 - Reviews: 1,084 - Favs: 4,548 - Follows: 3,485 -

Updated: 12.03.2019, 16:36:08 - Published: 25.07.2016, 15:15:57 -

Status: Complete - id: 12068079

1. Chapter 1: The Letter

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Author's Note: This is a story that just came to me. Harry's family and

family's history rarely seem to be the focus of a story. Some use "Granny

Black", Peverell, or Gryffindor to give Harry more titles so that he

becomes unnaturally powerful. It is, of course, difficult dealing with more

OCs and their untameable personalities (Dumbledore, Sirius, Ron, and

Hermione are enough as it is!), but there is usually something missing,

some historical context. I wanted it, so I wrote it :P It is possible that I

missed a story that goes deeply into the Potter Family. If it's a good story,

feel free to PM it to me.

I am not abandoning my other story, One with Magic. I just need a bit of

refreshing. I will be updating The Power of the Potters every other week to

every third week. But, of course, having a lot of reviews, a lot of follows

and favorites motivates me to write quicker!

Enough of the bla bla. Without further ado, the story.

Disclaimer: I just own the characters and plot that JKR doesn't. If you

notice similarities to your own story, hit me up, and let's see what

happened...

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Chapter One: The Letter

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Harry awoke in a cold sweat with his scream muffled by a pillow.

He didn't remember the nightmare he just escaped from, but he knew it

was similar to the numerous other nightmares that had plagued him since

the night of the Third Task.

A heartless - "Kill the spare" - followed by Cedric Diggory's lifeless yet

surprised eyes.

In some of the more vicious dreams, Cedric's corpse would turn to Harry

and inquire sadly, "Why didn't you save me, Harry. I would have saved

you!"

Harry slammed his eyes shut to prevent at least some of the tears from

falling, and slowly climbed out of bed to start his day.

He had been back with his "family" at Privet Drive for a little over two

weeks now. He had originally decided to do as he had planned in

previous years: stay in his bedroom until he had served his annual

sentence and pray that someone came soon after to release him. This

summer was an interesting exception to that plan.

Hedwig gave a small snore-hoot from her perch. Today was the first day

she decided to stay in. Maybe she needs a rest from all of the letters I've been

sending?

Thankfully, the Dursleys allowed him to let her free at night and did not

keep her locked up. Then again, he had had to sell himself to them this

summer for that boon.

The nightmarish replays of that night and the guilt of Cedric's death had

pressed in on him within the walls of his room. After two hellish nights,

Harry had come up with a compromise that seemed to benefit everyone.

Well, everyone except him.

He would try to sleep, but usually, once he had inevitably woken up from

a nightmare, he would go through the house and do all of the chores in

exchange for a few boons. Something about the familiarity of the tedious

and meticulous work of cleaning up after the Dursleys gave him peace.

And he was, in return, allowed to eat on his own and keep his

"freakishness" within the shadows of his room.

And they say indentured slavery was abolished.

For the first time, and out of sheer boredom, he had finished all of his

summer assignments for Hogwarts and reread nearly every book in his

possession. Of course, he didn't actually have too many books. Maybe I

should ask Hermione for some. She couldn't possibly refuse to answer a

request for information like she's been ignoring my letters. Nevertheless, it

scared him a bit that he managed all of that in two weeks.

I guess sleeping only 3-4 hours a night will do that to a bloke.

Robotically, he made his way through the house. Since it was Tuesday,

there wasn't much to be done. Uncle Vernon always worked late on

Mondays and came home tired. Aunt Petunia made her social rounds to

the other nosey ladies to gossip about what happened in the

neighborhood over the weekend on Mondays. And Dudley nursed his

hangover - or flu, as his parents believed. So Harry had completed the

bulk of his tasks on Monday.

The sun was nowhere near close to rising, so making breakfast was out of

the question.

Somehow, Harry found himself sitting underneath the slowly

disappearing stars on the well-worn swings of the neighborhood park.

Had any of the neighbors been awake to see him sitting in his pajamas at

four o'clock in the morning with a mug of tea and a sandwich, he knew it

would have only confirmed the neighborhood rumors of him not being

all there.

Not that many within the wizarding world would think differently of

him. Last year alone, he had been publically defamed as a liar, cheater,

backstabber, attention-seeker and many other names due to his

involuntary participation in the Triwizard Tournament.

He shuddered at the thought of what was currently being said or written

about him in the aftermath of the Third Task with Voldemort's return and

Cedric's death. He was, however, more worried about what Voldemort

was up to.

His history books left little to the imagination on how bloody, vicious

and terrible Voldemort's last reign of terror had been for both the

wizarding and muggle worlds. There was a reason why Voldemort's name

was not mentioned even after his defeat in 1981 at Harry's infant hands.

Harry religiously watched the morning news for any, for the muggles,

inexplicable occurrences, terrorist attacks or gas-pipe leakages (according

to the historian Bathilda Bagshot, that was the Ministry of Magic's main

cover-up technique during the last war).

But there was nothing, except that weird 'Boom' song from the Outhere

Brothers and the exhausting heat wave.

Maybe he is somehow keeping the murders quiet. Maybe he's only attacking in

the wizarding world... Maybe he's laying low at the moment.

Although Harry half-expected to return to a war-torn wizarding world in

a few weeks, nothing scared him more than Voldemort hiding in the

shadows, biding his time to make a big strike. If Fudge was still in denial,

as he had been in the Hospital Wing a few weeks back, this would not

bode well for the wizarding world.

He wished he had someone to tell him what was going on. After two

letters to each Ron, Hermione and Sirius, and no responses, Harry had all

but given up.

HOOT

CRUNCH

Harry jumped from the swing, grabbing his wand out of his back pocket.

Scanning the small park with a trembling hand, he noticed, no small hint

of embarrassment, the regal-looking brown owl on top of the swing-set. It

bore a special protection medallion that identified all Gringott's owls.

"You didn't have to scare me like that, ruddy owl!" Harry whispered.

Though the owl had startled him, he was sure there had been another

crunching sound from the bushes.

Writing the sound off as a wild animal, possibly fleeing from the owl,

Harry stowed his wand away and approached the pretentious owl.

With a rather impatient hoot, the owl presented its leg and its burden. It

pecked Harry hard on the head as his trembling fingers pinched its

brown, sensitive leg feathers before taking off the second it was released

from its burden.

"Bloody menace!" Harry yelled at the bird's retreating form.

Harry took the letter in both hands and almost dropped it immediately.

His loud gasp echoed eerily in the park.

Quickly, he gathered up his discarded tea mug, left the remains of his

sandwich for the animals, and all but ran back to the house staring at the

name on the rather heavy, official-looking letter:

Goblin Secured Post

From: Virgil Orville Potter, Head of the Australian Cadet Branch, Most Noble

and Ancient House of Potter

To: Henry (Harry) James Potter, Lord Apparent and Head of the Most Noble

and Ancient House of Potter

To Be Read Immediately

Portkey Activation 10 Minutes Post-opening

Self-destruct 5 Minutes Post-delivery if not opened

He never heard the crack of apparition from the panicked Order member

behind him.

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Many thanks to Marc the Unruly for bearing with me and betaing!

You're the best.

2. Chapter 2: Welcome Home

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Chapter Two: Welcome Home...

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Harry knew he was being impulsive as he sprinted towards Number 4.

Gryffindors charge forward, he reminded himself for the third time.

This could be his escape from the Dursleys. His moment to get away from

his imprisonment. Maybe his only chance to meet true family.

But it could also be a trap.

A small shiver went down his spine as he fumbled with the keys to the

house.

With a deep breath, he left the door locked and placed his finger in the

space indicated on the seal. After a small prick and drop of blood - the

Goblins are so cruel, he thought while suckling the sore finger - he ripped

the seal on the letter. A small glow was all he received as confirmation.

If it were a ploy from Voldemort, I would be dead already, he told himself

with conviction.

In an opulent manor many miles away, a certain Dark Lord sneezed

suddenly and promptly crucioed anyone who witnessed his spontaneous

bout of weakness.

Here goes nothing, Harry thought, his stomach clenching in unease, as he

began reading with an unsteady hand.

Heir Potter, the letter read,

I apologize for the abruptness and urgency of this letter.

This letter is my twelfth attempt at contacting you and/or your guardian(s)

since 1985. I can only assume that you are either being held against your will

or kept ignorant of your roles and rights. Thus, this blood secure letter will

activate as a Portkey within 9 minutes, bringing you and your guardian(s)

safely to the Potter Country Home in Melbourne, Australia.

Should I have erred with my suspicions, a Portkey will be provided upon your

arrival for a safe return to Potter Manor. Should you not wish to visit or

arrive with the Portkey, I merely ask for a brief note in response to this letter.

I also beg forgiveness for my rash interference, Heir Potter. I have been

following the news of your exploits through the media since your arrival (?) in

1991, and am frankly afraid for your health, the continuation of the Head

Line and appalled by the disrespect being shown to the Potter name. I assume

that the family solicitors contracted by my dearly departed brother, Charlus,

upon receiving his Lordship, are busy at work.

These old eyes look forward to seeing what is left of my Charlus. And I look

forward to hearing what news you can provide on the Potter Estate and Potter

Holdings! Should no response come from you, I shall attempt once more by

post next year, before I physically make the long trek to England.

With kind greetings from the outback,

Your Great-Great-Uncle Virgil

P.S. Your cousin (third cousin to be exact) Henriette Marie, requests that you

bring your Firebolt so that she can "burn some rubber" against true

competition. I ask that you keep an eye on her apparently pyromaniac

inclinations.

P.P.S. Please maintain physical contact with everything and anyone you wish

to bring with you. International Portkeys can be tricky sometimes.

.

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The letter made Harry blink. Twice.

Potter Country House? Potter Estate, Holdings? What on Earth... Maybe they

have me mistaken for another English wizard named Harry Potter… who

receives a lot of press... who also owns a Firebolt.

He physically shook his doubt away. He suddenly wished that Hermione

were here. She would know what to do.

This is pathetic! Can I not tie my shoes without Hermione? If she were here,

she would just recommend writing a letter to Dumbledore given her reverence

for authority, and that would take too long.

He took a calming breath, unlocked the front door and raced upstairs to

his bedroom. He quickly placed the letter on the rickety table next to the

bed and proceeded to fling everything he possessed into his trunk.

Hedwig, now awake due to the racket he made, like most of the residents

in the house, looked at him with big, questioning eyes.

"I'm going to see my family. I have a family, Hedwig!" He picked up her

cage and twirled it lightly with Hedwig in it. "I have a family."

Hedwig merely barked unhappily at him.

"BOY!" His Uncle Vernon yelled, banging open the door to Harry's

bedroom. "You'd better have a damn good reason for making all of this

noise before the sun is even up!"

Rather than explaining himself, Harry grabbed the letter off of the table

and pressed it into his Uncle's hands.

"Country Home... solicitors... LORDSHIP... Estate... HOLDINGS!" His

uncle nearly choked as he stumbled over the words.

"I don't know what it means, Uncle Vernon, but I can assume that I won't

be coming back to visit this summer." Or any summer after this hopefully.

Despite the careless abandon and speed at which he was grabbing books,

clothes, expired potion ingredients, etc. and throwing them into his

trunk, Harry managed to see the internal struggle his uncle was having.

He would be free of me for forever, but I will seemingly enjoy the rags-to-

riches story that he's always dreamed of...

Dumbledore told him that he was safe as long as he stayed with his

family. Surely this includes my father's side of the family, right?

His aunt sleepily entered the room as Harry was squeezing his trunk shut.

"Is this... real?" His uncle asked as he passed the letter wordlessly to his

wife. "That Dumb-door character didn't mention any other Potters in his

letter to us."

Letter? Which letter? Harry asked himself briefly as he locked the trunk

and lured an agitated Hedwig out of her cage with treats.

"Vernon!" His aunt's gasp caught Harry's attention. The letter was

emitting a light blue color.

Harry rushed forward making sure he held Hedwig's cage and grabbed

the letter that his aunt had thrown on the floor out of fear.

Harry grabbed a random piece of paper and scribbled a note to Sirius and

Hermione. Gone to visit my Great Uncle Virgil. I will let you know somehow

when I return.

"Hey girl, give this to Sirius or Hermione and stay with them if you want.

I think I'll be too far away for you to send messages." Hedwig cocked her

head to the side, took the letter in her talons, gave an intelligent hoot of

understanding and flew through the window into the budding sunrise.

Harry could feel the magic of the portkey gathering around him and took

a seat on his trunk with his broom, Hedwig's cage in his lap, and the

letter clutched firmly in his hand.

As soon as he noticed a pull from behind his navel, Harry gripped his few

worldly possessions and gave his mother's relatives a true smile.

"I wish you all a warm stay in hell. I will happily send you a bottle of

water to compensate you for your troubles these past 14 years."

With a flash of multicolored lights and a gust of wind, he literally left the

Dursleys in his dust and also left numerous alarms going off in the empty

office of a certain Headmaster currently away at a conference.

The magic of the portkey, many times stronger than his two previous

experiences, grabbed not at his navel but at the entirety of his torso. The

wind left his lungs in a swoosh. Try as he might, he could not catch his

breath going at such a high speed. He could feel the muscles and lungs in

his chest constricting in defiant protest to the asphyxiation and

manhandling.

With a massive heave, the lights and magic disappeared abruptly. Air

flooded his lungs after the nearly 15-second trip as he fell forward with

Hedwig's cage and the letter onto the carpeted floor of an elegantly and

expensively, yet overwhelmingly homely, decorated parlor.

As he attempted to catch his breath on all fours, a sun-kissed hand

appeared before his face.

"Apologies for the portkey." A gravel-like voice welcomed softly. "Goblin-

made portkeys are the safest, yet the Goblin magic only seems to allow

Goblins to travel with them comfortably."

Harry fingered his wand in his back pocket and looked up at the man

before him.

The man was definitely old enough to be a young grandfather or great-

uncle. If he were a muggle, Harry would estimate him being mid-fifties.

With dark gray hair, a few wrinkles and many pepper-black strands here

and there, he seemed to have aged quite gracefully for a wizard. He was

tall with broad shoulders that spoke of much physical activity in his

youth.

Harry immediately noted similar facial features to his own and a few

white scars.

With a quick movement, the man unsheathed his wand from a sleeve

holder. Harry flinched from his spot on the floor and mentally prepared

to cast a protego or disarming hex until he noticed the man holding both

ends of the wand in his hands and presenting it in a bowing motion to

Harry.

"I, Virgil Orville Potter, welcome the Heir Henry James Potter, Lord and

Head Apparent of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, into this

his Family Home. May no harm or misdeed besmirch his visit. So mote it

be." There was a faint stirring in the room as if Magik herself held her

breath.

The man, his Great-Great Uncle apparently, waited a few seconds before

throwing Harry an expectant look.

Harry blinked in confusion, figuring he was missing something essential.

"Err. Thank you?"

The man blinked in a manner frighteningly similar to himself before

Harry noticed a mixture of emotions - confusion, fury, pain and finally

what might have been resignation mixed with dissatisfaction - flicker

over the man's face in quick succession.

I haven't even been here for a full ten minutes, and I've already worn out my

stay… Great.

Surprisingly, the man smoothly set Harry on his feet and placed Harry's

hands on top of his own.

"Repeat after me: I, Heir Henry James Potter, accept this warm welcome.

May Magic bless and embrace this meeting of Potters and Kin." He said

with a sympathetic and warm voice.

Harry did so without any hesitation and minimal stuttering. The anxiety

from a possible trap left him abruptly with nothing but a weird sense of

belonging and energy from the magic that slowly settled in the room.

The man smirked stowing his wand away. "Now that the stuffy procedure

is out of the way-" He suddenly grabbed Harry and pulled him into a

warm hug.

He then held Harry at arm's length, assessing him. "Just like my brother

Charlus. That hair was cursed from the womb to the grave, I tell you."

Harry blushed to the roots of said hair.

"You are rather a quiet one. I expected at least anger, cheer, or curiosity,

but not shyness." He said. He slowly let go of Harry's shoulders and,

putting an arm around Harry, lead him towards the corridor.

Harry took a shuddering breath and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, sir.

This is all very shocking and a bit overwhelming for me." He managed to

squeeze out.

Since they were walking in the same direction, he missed the fury that

distorted the man's rather pleasant face.

"None of that 'sir' hogwash! We are family. The family calls me Grandpa

Virgil or just Virgil, and if that makes you uncomfortable, call me Uncle

Virgil like your cousins in the US and France."

Harry nearly choked on air. More family?

Harry nodded quickly, turning to look at the man. "Yes, si- Uncle Virgil."

"Marvelous! Having my own great-grandchildren call me Virgil makes me

feel much younger than my 85 years." The man said jubilantly, his accent

becoming stronger. Harry gave a small laugh, the man's joviality was

pretty addicting.

Uncle Virgil stopped suddenly as soon as they reached the brilliantly lit

hallway with many moving portraits and pictures.

"Ah, here it is! The most recent family photo I have of my brother,

nephew, and grandnephew - your father."

Harry gazed upon the enlarged and framed picture like a wayward fish

upon water. Two raven-haired men, who could have been mistaken for

brothers, stood in what seemed to be a large ballroom with two gorgeous

women on their left and right-hand sides respectively.

"On the left is my nephew, your grandfather Charles. If I remember

correctly, Charles was freshly married to Aurora Dorea Potter née Black,

the Black Beauty as she was called."

Harry gazed at the woman in wonder. His grandmother was a party-

stopper. She seemed to glow with a certain internal beauty and

happiness. Many of the other people in the room, walked by and gazed at

her. Her timeless, noble features and soft smile warmed his heart. Harry

wondered briefly what her and thus his relation to Sirius was. Why didn't

he tell me that we are related? Maybe we aren't...

"... caused a bit of a scandal in England, that did! Most of the Blacks and

Potters had been on opposite sides of Grindelwald's War in the 1940s."

Uncle Virgil continued with his trip down memory lane.

"On the right," he pointed then to the more elegant and aristocratic-

looking man with a similarly attired blond-haired woman next to him, "is

my brother Charlus and his wife Madeline Potter née Lovegood." Where

have I heard that last name before? He was pretty sure he heard the name

at Hogwarts.

"She remains one of the most decorated Ward Researchers of the past

three centuries. I believe she- Oh, I apologize. I don't want to bore you

with such stories."

"NO!" Harry exclaimed loudly before he caught himself and promptly

made to apologize for his impudence. "Sorry, sir- Uncle Virgil. Please tell

me more. I've learned more in the past two minutes about my family than

I have the last 14 years!"

The man looked pale and pained as he considered the implications of

Harry's words. "I see."

With a deep breath to calm himself, Harry assumed, he turned back to

the picture as if he had never stopped. "... Madeline Potter was a world-

renowned Warder. A Goblin-Friend, Grand Sorceress and an honorary

Unspeakable... all by the age of 25. She later single-handedly redesigned

the warding structures and networks of all Potter houses, manors and

safe-houses. They all remain impenetrable to this day." Harry noted the

pride with which the man spoke of his sister-in-law with tingles all over.

Wait?

He bit his lip, not wanted to interrupt the man again, but the question

burned within him.

His very observant great-great-uncle noticed the look. "There is no need

to be shy or ashamed to ask questions. They are essential to life, you

know."

"I was just wondering how Voldemort got into the house where my

parents and I were staying before… then if everything was warded."

Uncle Virgil nodded knowingly without the usual flinch at Voldemort

name. Harry could see himself coming to like the man before him.

"Yes. The Family was also pretty confused by that as well. Your parents

chose to stay in a house not originally owned by the Potters, and thus not

rewarded by Madeline."

"Whose house was it then?" Harry was confused. Everyone said his

parents died in their home.

"I believe it was a cottage owned in the 1700s by the Peverells. It was on

land that had been passed on to one of the descendants of the youngest

Peverell brother, the only brother to survive to his marriage, to my

grandfather as dowry for my father's marriage to Iolanthe Potter neé

Peverell in 1883."

Harry confusion only seemed to deepen.

"Madeline could only ward the dwellings that were owned and originally

warded by Potters due to Family magic before she passed. The Peverells

line, though related by marriage, was not absorbed into the Potter Line

until the late 1970s when the last Peverell male descendant of the Main

Line was murdered, I believe. Madeline passed beforehand in 1960 -

shortly after this picture was taken in fact."

Harry nodded, completely enthralled by the story. He futilely looked at

the inhabitants of the photo for a glimpse of his father.

Uncle Virgil turned back to the picture with a smirk. "Ah, and if I see

correctly, in Madeline's arms is a bundle of flesh named James Hardwin

Potter."

Harry jumped and peered intently at the picture to catch a glimpse of his

father as a baby. And as if on cue, his father's grandmother proudly

presented the baby James to the camera.

Harry couldn't help the snort that passed his lips. "He's so wrinkly!"

His great-great-uncle gave a deep belly laugh that echoed down the hall

in both directions. "Your grandfather said that same, as did your great-

grandfather about your grandfather. Maybe all the men of the Main

Potter Line are "wrinkly" for the first few months."

"And what did your father say about my great-grandfather?" Harry

chuckled, following the line of succession back another generation.

Uncle Virgil sobered immediately, looked down the hall to a grand and

elaborate portrait of a very stern looking ancestor and signed deeply. "My

father is a story for another time."

Harry was disappointed and felt miserable for ruining the moment. "I'm

sorry." Change the discussion topic, change the topic! "What happened to

everyone in the picture?"

The pained looked that crossed Uncle Virgil's face made Harry

immediately regret his choice of topic choice. Bugger, can't I say anything

right?

"Charlus and Madeline passed much too early in 1960. Their deaths were

unexpected and remain a mystery to this day. Charles and Aurora were

murdered by Lord Voldemort's wand nearly 20 years afterward." Virgil

paused. "Your parents followed nearly 2 years later in 1981. You're all

that's left of the Family in England."

A pain like nothing else Harry had ever experienced tugged at his heart.

Voldemort had stolen his chance to have a picture like the one on the

wall, to have a mother and father or grandparents as he grew up, to have

a family…

"So that's why?" He asked himself.

"Pardon, my boy?"

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "So that's why I was left with my

Aunt and Uncle? Because Voldemort has killed off the rest of my family

in England?"

Sharp eyes bore into Harry's slightly wet ones. "Aunt and Uncle? I was

unaware of any other children from Charles."

Harry wiped his eyes quickly with his shirtsleeves. "No, my mother's

sister and her husband. I was apparently left like unwanted milk on their

doorstep in November that year."

The arm that had been wrapped around his shoulders and comforting

him since he left the parlor tightened suddenly and painfully.

"But your mother was a first-gen! Your aunt and uncle must be non-mags

then! Otherwise, we would have heard from them and you much earlier...

Every Heir is to be raised in our world! That would have been stipulated

by your parents will!" The man ranted to himself.

"Sorry, non-mag? First-gen?" Harry asked timidly, a bit taken aback by

the man's rage.

A few calming breaths later, Uncle Virgil gentle steered Harry away from

the picture, in the direction opposite of his father's stern and piercing

gaze.

"First-generation or "first-gen" witch or wizard is what I believe the

British still racistly refer to as "muggleborns" and their non-magical or

"non-mag" counterparts as "muggles". Most of the world has tabooed the

terms as discriminatory, especially in communities like ours where the

two worlds mix and mingle frequently."

Harry nearly stopped walking in shock. "B-but, the International Statute-"

"The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, which our ancestor," he

pointed to a large portrait of a gentle yet proud looking man down the

hall and next to the portrait of Virgil's father, "Ralston Potter I

championed in the late 17th century, only applies now to certain

communities and countries. Australia, many Asian and African nations,

and some parts of the States have blanket laws of magically-bound

discretion."

Harry nodded in the right places, somewhat distracted by the amount of

noise coming from behind the door they were standing in front of.

Uncle Virgil gave a slightly lopsided grin that would have surely looked

out of place on the face of an older man were it not for his Potter genes.

"Everyone is very excited to meet you. I'm surprised they haven't burst

through the door."

A slight nervousness settled in Harry's stomach.

What if they don't like me? What if they are like the Dursleys? What…

He didn't get the opportunity worry further. The door was thrown open

by a small, smartly dressed girl with blond curls and Harry's nose who

stared at Harry for a moment, cocked her head to the side and yelled

over her shoulder into the room.

"HE IS HERE! I told you, John! I told him, didn't I, mum?"

With a swing of her hair, she turned back to Harry and curtsied. "My

Lord, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. I'm Jasmine Potter. My parents

are Michael Bryant and Quinn Potter. My Potter grandparents are

Andrew Edgar and Sarah Parker Potter. My favorite colors are blue,

silver-."

"Jasmine!" Called a woman from within the room behind the talkative

child. "Let poor Henry breathe."

The blonde rolled her eyes and grabbed her great-grandfather's hand in

her own tiny one before Uncle Virgil guided Harry and Jasmine into the

room.

Before he could wrap his mind around the numerous people looking

around each other to get a better glimpse of him, he tried to drink in the

large, richly decorated, pentagon-shaped dining hall. The entire Dursley

house and garden could fit in the room with space to spare. What caught

Harry's attention immediately, however, was not the size, the white

marble floor lined with gold, the satin tablecloths or the delicious looking

meal already prepared, but the four transparent charmed walls and

ceiling. Were it not for the floor, Harry would have thought he was

outside on an expensive gazebo.

Absolutely gorgeous.

Uncle Virgil called out suddenly into the room, "Presenting our Lord

Henry James Potter, Lord Apparent, and Head of the Most Noble and

Ancient House of Potter. Blessed be his stay and warm his welcome."

As one, most of the room bowed or curtsied to some degree. A few people

merely nodded at him.

Harry looked out up the room full of people, most with some physical

similarity to him, faintly but still present.

"Er. Hi?"

He smiled sheepishly as a few people giggled and gasped, and Uncle

Virgil slapped his hand to his forehead.

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Betaed by Marc the Unruly

3. Chapter 3: Potter Drama

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Chapter Three: Potter Drama

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Harry let the comfortable hum from the numerous, simultaneous

conversations wash over him. Though each roundtable had an interesting

and merry discussion going on, people seemed to migrate constantly and

keep their conversations going at a reasonable volume.

Little Jasmine had practically attached herself to his hip since his faux

pas following Uncle Virgil's introduction. She steered him like a trained

hostess from group to group of his extended family.

Harry met Uncle Virgil's three remaining sons, their 11 children and 11,

soon to be 12, grandchildren. Five of his cousins were around his age,

including a set of triplets with an interesting mixture of Indian and Potter

features. The girls - Mari, Adna, and Maya - reminded him strongly of the

Patil twins from Hogwarts: identically beautiful but with completely

different personalities. Mari was cheerful and bubbly, Adna stuffy and

formal and Maya very shy.

With Jasmine's tiny hand in his, Harry felt more confident as time went

by, and he made his rounds from table to table. He knew he would not

remember all of the nearly thirty faces, names, familial connections, and

jobs, but he also knew he'd never be able to thank little Jasmine enough

for her help.

Though his introduction had been disappointing, most of the family

members showed some level of understanding and sympathy for his

situation. He quickly found out that his 10-years-older, second cousin

Garvan Arnold Potter disliked him immensely and took to making not so

subtle jabs at everything from Harry's appearance, his publicity, his lack

of magical theory knowledge, and for not following proper protocol with

the Family.

Jasmine shut the mousy man down with an innocent reminder of Uncle

Virgil's earlier explanation that Harry had not been raised "the Potter

Way" to "Potter Standards", declared that the matter would be resolved,

and requested that no one should blame Harry as he was the victim of

the nearly criminal negligence.

If only they knew the half of it, Harry considered the consequences of them

knowing even some of what he went through with the Dursleys as he

helped himself to another sandwich.

Uncle Virgil looked just about ready to commit homicide due to the

numerous inquiries he seemed to be fielding over the course of the

luncheon. I don't think I should burden them with my miserable life story, he

thought with conviction and decided not reveal anything to the family.

"So this is the long-awaited Lord Potter." Harry looked up with a full

mouth from his small break from the socializing to a sneering teenager

with blond hair and a bulbous nose. Were it not for the sneer the guy

could have passed as somewhat handsome. The sneer was one, Harry

reckoned, Malfoy and Snape would have killed to pull off successfully.

Harry quickly looked for his little helper, only to find her not in the chair

next to him, where she had been when he picked up his freckle sandwich

just moments ago.

Pretty sure he had not been introduced to this family member yet, he

swallowed as much as he could of his sandwich, wiped his hand on his

pants leg and held it out to the guy only to receive a disgusted snort in

return.

"When Great-Grandfather said you weren't raised to Potter Standards, I

did not realize he meant as a barbarian." The blonde's words were greeted

with snickers from two other family members near them, one of whom

was the dreadful Garvan. "We use napkins to wipe off our hands, my

Lord." He snarked.

Harry bit back his retort and dropped his hand with an angry flourish. He

didn't want any more enemies especially not among his newly found

family, but he couldn't understand the guy's problem.

"But with those rags," he pointed at Harry's clothes, "wiping your hands

on one of the fine napkins would probably be considered an insult."

This time quite a few people rolled their eyes or had to cough to hide

their snorts.

Harry had nearly melted into his chair, embarrassed and ashamed. Years

of abuse from the Dursleys and years of overexposure in the Wizarding

world had left his confidence and self-esteem in shatters.

Yet, a small flame of righteous anger steadily began growing in his belly.

Harry had never asked to be left with the Dursleys, to be a hero to a

hero-hungry population of wizards, to lose his parents to a monster, and

he definitely hadn't asked or wanted to be clothed in too large hand-me-

downs. He would have loved to grow up with a loving family, healthy

meals and good clothes like the Potters around him, but for some reason

he had been denied the chance.

His anger evolved into fury.

As more laughter reached his ears, Harry had finally had enough. "I'm

sorry. I didn't realize that we have a dress code for family gatherings. I

will remember for next time." Harry smiled pleasantly, priding himself on

channeling his temper into sarcasm, despite the headache he could feel

coming. "I, personally, prefer to measure people by their character, their

words, and actions, not by where they wipe their fingers or by the quality

of their clothes."

The tension visibly spiked in the room. Garvan and the other accomplice

had taken one look into Harry's angry eyes and quickly retreated with

slightly respectable nods.

The now lone blond narrowed his eyes contemptuously but seemed

somewhat worried for some reason.

"Wise words, my Lord. Hopefully, we can convince you to… reconsider

the manner you present yourself and represent the Family. I will happily

offer my assistance." He sniffed and marched over to the other side of the

silent room.

An insult wrapped in faux altruism, Snape would give him 10 points.

Harry spent the next few moments reigning in his temper and hoping no-

one bothered him in the meantime. I wonder if he's related to Malfoy. Oh

bloody hell, I wonder if I'm related to Malfoy!

He quickly looked for the blond and his parents to see if they bore any

resemblance to the stuck up Malfoys.

"Ignore him. Jonas' just jealous that he has little to no chance of

becoming Lord Potter, either from Lineage or from the Family Magik." A

beautiful raven-haired girl said suddenly taking the seat next to him.

Just like with every other blood relation in the room, Harry could

somehow sense that she was a relative, albeit a somewhat distant one. It

was a delightfully warm feeling he wouldn't give up for anything in the

world.

The girl looked very similar to him: slim, the same eyebrows, and

approximately the same age. This is how I would look as a girl, raised with

familial love, loads of healthy food and sunshine.

Harry found himself suddenly jealous of the girl for no real reason.

Cued by Harry's puzzled expression, she snatched the last sandwich on

Harry's plate and explained. "Right, you don't know anything." Harry

once again swallowed an angry retort. He hated being considered stupid.

"You are the last descendant of the Main Potter Line. Should you be

unable to take up or carry out the duties of Lord Potter, the title of Lord

Regnant falls to the designate of your Final Testament, if agreed upon by

a majority of Heads of the Potter Family. If you don't have a will, or if

the Heads can't come to an agreement, the Head of the Eldest Line

becomes Regnant while the Family Magik chooses the next Lord Potter.

Since Virgil is the fourth brother, Uncle PH and then Uncle Lester would

become Regnant, followed by Virgil. Then come their sisters followed by

the sons and daughters of the heads, grandsons, and granddaughters etc...

Jonas is 35th or so in the Line of Succession."

She took a huge bite of his sandwich, and Harry felt his eye twitch twice

at the injustice of it all.

"What if I don't want to be Lord Potter? Do I get a choice in this at all?"

Harry said, already upset by not having a say in his own life and by the

girl's invasive ways.

The sandwich fell from her hands to the table with a loud plop as she

stared at him with a mixture of shock and rage. Harry realized suddenly

that he might have pressed the wrong button.

"Apologies, your royalness! How dare we ask you to give up your

precious, scarry fame to take up the lowly position as Head of our

Family!" She growled with narrowed ocean blue eyes.

Harry could only stammer out a reply. "T-That's not what I said!" But

what I said could be misinterpreted as she just did, a random, logical voice

said from the back of his mind.

"No, I heard you correctly." She said standing up furiously. "Being the

Lord and Protector of the Potter Family is not about attending social

events and giving interviews. It's about taking care of the affairs of the

Family, ensuring the well-being of current and future generations. It is an

honor and privilege to be Lord Potter. How dare you relegate it to the

position of a menial chore! HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry was surprised by the passionate speech, but he was stunned

senseless by the sudden and hard slap that made his glasses skid across

the table.

"I had hoped that the negligence and lack of upbringing could be

remedied. I hoped that the British newspapers were not accurate with

their subtle portrayals of you as an attention-seeking brat. I hoped that

you would be happy to break away from whomever, we assume, is

controlling and hiding you from your own family. I thought you'd be

humble and respectful, and make the family strong again... I am

disappointed."

She turned heel and stormed out of the quite quiet room. Her furious

words and magic lingered in the air.

Harry stared at her aghast and confused. He hadn't said any of that.

Where the hell did that come from?

A hand on his shoulder jolted Harry out of his stunned reverie. "Go after

her. I have never seen her this upset before." Uncle Virgil said in a dry

and stern voice.

"Sir! I promise I didn't mean it like - I mean, I just want to-."

Harry was interrupted by an impatient hand.

"Regardless of your intentions, you and Henriette will have to discuss it."

Harry nodded quickly and made to follow her when he realized a major

flaw. "But I don't know where she went," he murmured, eyes downcast.

Uncle Virgil's eyes narrowed, but anyone could tell that the furious look

wasn't truly directed at Harry. "Follow the feel of her magic." He said

through clenched teeth.

Harry didn't bother responding or asking for clarification. He quickly

grabbed his glasses from the table and fled from the tense room.

After a few moments of silence, a soft voice rang through the room. "Do

you think it wise to send the boy after her, grandfather? I have never

seen her like this." A woman who could only be Henriette's mother said

approaching Virgil. "She has looked forward to meeting him since she

learned that he was her namesake, but I fear she might tear him to shreds

before he can even speak to her."

"Possibly. Henriette is sometimes uncouth, hot-headed and cruelly direct,

but I believe that she might be the one to open his eyes and make him a

suitable, even remarkable, Lord Potter. With a Light Lord interfering in

Potter Family Matters, and, if the rumors are to be believed, the return of

a Dark Lord who seems hell-bent on killing off as many Potters as he can,

we will need him mentally, physically and magically strong."

This seemed to upset more than a few Potters in the room.

"A neglected and uneducated Lord Potter and temperamental Henriette

Potter at the helm of the Potter Family's future? Merlin help us all." A

grim-faced, bald-headed Daniel Norman Potter, Virgil's second-born said

helplessly from the back of the room.

"Yet, we all felt how strong the Potter Magik is within him, Papa." Virgil's

redheaded granddaughter, Sarah Marie Andersson, née Potter, Daniel

Potter's eldest daughter, said with a slight accent from the same area of

the room. "I doubt he realized that he was tapping into the Family Magik

to keep us all from approaching him."

"Indeed." Virgil paused to rub his temples. That had given even him a

headache when he tried to get to the boy and tell him what he was

doing. "The only person who could overcome the repulsion was our little

Henriette."

"Yet, it was not only the Family Magik pulsating through the room. Jonas

quite thoroughly provoked young Henry into showing his aura with his

nonsense." Orville Jonas Potter, Daniel Potter's eldest son said cuffing his

only son, Jonas, upside the head rather abruptly.

Ignoring his great grandson's feeble apologies to his father, Virgil Orville

could only sigh as the wards registered a rather violent burst of magic

near the Quidditch pitch. He prayed to any free deities that this episode

of Potter Family drama ended on a light note.

"We will all have to pull our weight and restore the Family to its previous

strength. We should hold a Fireside tonight, begin educating our Lord

Potter, and pray we have enough time to correct the injustices inflicted

upon our House."

This ignited a burst of conversation on what was known, what

information was missing and what was obviously falsified about the Heir

Potter. At the end of the first hour, it was pretty clear to all that a

Fireside chat was needed.

The chat had been previously used by Potter Lords, Heads and Elders to

transparently discuss Family matters, crimes against or committed by

Potters and sometimes for impromptu Family Gatherings just to share

news and stories. The last one had been called in the 1700s when the son

of one of their ancestors killed a distant Potter relative so that the Potters

could lay claim as the sole Heirs of Gryffindor. Family Magik usually

facilitated by invoking a truth spell that loosened the tongue, comforted

the speakers, ensuring that only the truth was spoken, and removed or

slowed any external factors - including time.

A plan was devised by two of Virgil's sons to get young Henry to declare

a Fireside where he would reveal all that he could about his life. Virgil

and his level-headed son, Franklin Cecil, both doubted that such a

manipulation would go over well. Virgil feared Henry would become

defensive and ask to be sent back… which most likely would destroy the

family.

He voiced his concerns, brought the matter to a vote - where it was

vetoed - and asked for other suggestions.

Virgil and the rest of his family were surprised nearly three hours later as

a wind-swept and completely exhausted pair of raven-haired teenagers

walked cheerfully back into the room. He felt his heart leap happily in

his chest as the two chatted and laughed like long lost siblings. The

brooms hung loosely over their shoulders were evidence of their

activities the past few hours.

"Dear Merlin! Papa was right." Daniel sighed, playfully banging his head

on the table while his wife patted his shoulders sympathetically. "They

are like-."

"... like two kneazles of the same litter." Virgil finished happily for his

son. The future suddenly looked bright for the Potters.

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Betaed by Marc the Unruly

4. Chapter 4: The Coup

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Chapter Four: The Coup

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Dumbledore slowly removed his half-moon glasses and pinched the

bridge of his 144-year-old nose.

For the first time in many years, he truly felt as old as he biologically

was. Not only did Harry Potter manage to disappear into thin air nearly

two weeks ago, Dumbledore had no way of tracking, monitoring or

returning him to the safety of his family.

His mother's family, he corrected himself viciously.

His understanding of the history of the Most Noble and Most Ancient

House of Potter was that the Cadet Branches never interfered in the

actions of the Head Branch, for fear of excommunication and financial

estrangement. At least, that was the relationship of most Noble and Ancient

Houses with foreign branches.

"Can nothing be done to find the poor boy?" Asked a tearful Molly

Weasley over the bickering and murmuring. She and her family had been

deeply devastated by Harry's disappearance. "Who knows what those

Dark wizards will do to him!"

Severus snorted loudly from across the table. "You obviously do not know

much of the Potter Family's history. 'Dark wizards' indeed!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline. Since when was

Severus interested in the Potter Family history? Maybe he researched the

family to better know his enemy, James Potter.

"And you know?" Sirius snarled at the greasy-haired man from the other

head of the table - which was, Dumbledore subconsciously noted, his

rightful position as Head (if not Lord Apparent) of House Black in his

own Family Manor.

Sirius turned to Molly with slightly narrowed eyes. "And how dare you

even insinuate that the Potters were anything other than Light witches

and wizards!"

"Much like the Blacks were anything other than Dark?" Molly smoothly

rebutted.

There was a loud intake of breath by many at the table. Sirius sat back as

if physically struck by Molly's words. Dumbledore knew that many

members had had difficulty accepting Sirius' innocence since, and

especially if, they still carried the age-old prejudices about the House of

Black. He could feel the antagonistic murmurs reviving up again as the

tension at the table peaked.

"No family, of noble blood or ignoble, is all of one thing or another. The

world is not divided between Black or Potter, Dark or Light, bad or

good." Severus said in his most reasonable, albeit condescending tone.

Albus nodded mentally, but as he made to speak, Severus continued.

"Any educated reading of the Potter Family history shows that their

family did not hold to such idiotic beliefs. The Potters were and are a

Grey family, intermarried with those who were magically powerful

regardless of whether they considered themselves Light, Grey, Dark or

smart enough not to throw themselves in a box."

Albus nearly couldn't hold back the chuckle at the dumbfounded looks

around the table. From the rather brilliantly delivered explanation or at

Severus' roundabout way of complimenting the Potters, he wasn't sure.

Molly, however, had turned redder than her husband's hair at the

belittlement.

Grey Families were a thing of the past figuratively speaking. With the last

two wizarding wars, most of the original Grey families declared

themselves Light, Dark or Neutral to avoid persecution for their mixed

allegiances. The Grey was scorned and tabooed in Europe for being

opportunists.

"Now, now, Severus. Hundreds of years of Dark magic being used to

harm others is hard for some people to look past," Dumbledore said,

placing his glasses back on. "The history of the extended Potter family

is... troubling at many points, but they have remained consistent and

balanced." Whatever that even means.

"Grey?" Minerva murmured. "Charles and James were definitely Light.

Lily was-"

"Lily was just like my Aunt Dorea Potter, née Black, James' mother: Grey

to Dark Grey." Sirius murmured as if disappointed.

"And yet, it was her Grey to Dark Grey magic that kept your precious

godson alive!" Severus thundered, his magic causing black sparks to fly

within the room. His defense of Lily Potter took many aback.

Sirius winced and stared despondently at his hands. Remus patted him

comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Albus?" Minerva asked almost pleadingly after a moment of silence. Her

face was pale, as if the foundation of her beliefs, or at least her exaltation

of the deceased Potters, had crumbled.

Dumbledore's mind sped at a frightening pace through multiple scenarios

depending on his response to this sensitive inquiry. He decided that no

matter how he answered, someone would get upset. Better to change the

topic.

"Despite what we believe to know of the intermediate Potter family, we do

not know the intentions and affiliations of Virgil Potter, who has quite

suddenly and without warning removed young Harry from our care. It is

imperative that we bring Harry back under the protection of the blood

wards as soon as possible."

Seeing multiple affirmative nods, Dumbledore pushed forward with the

rest of the night's agenda with all of the energy of a conductor through a

difficult musical piece with one vital instrument missing.

It was two hours, and much discussion, later that Dumbledore ended the

meeting with a heavy sigh.

Tom was currently, unnaturally quiet, the Ministry in denial and the

person destined to keep the Dark from reigning over Britain was missing.

It was at times like these where he wished he could switch places with

his older brother Aberforth and merely work behind a bar. He quickly

thanked everyone for their hard work and excused himself.

While hurrying to see whether the silver instruments in his office were

finally able to locate Harry, Dumbledore completely missed the

conspiratorial glance that passed between a stoic-looking Sirius Black, an

exhausted Remus Lupin, a surprisingly furious Bill Weasley and a smug

Severus Snape.

The four moved as one towards the kitchen door as if of the same mind.

Their collective escape from the room was rendered impossible by a

small commotion.

The sudden appearance of a large lynx Patronus startled everyone still in

the kitchen. Kingsley's booming voice spoke as if rushed, "Dementors at

Privet Drive. Potter's family has been Kissed. Blood wards are down."

Sirius and Remus stared at one another. "Dementors?" Snape turned to

the shadows, conjured parchment, and a pencil, before scratching

something quickly and away from curious eyes.

"That poor boy!" Molly cried into the chest of her husband. There was a

hectic bustle as Dumbledore was informed and started an impromptu

second round of the meeting.

"Poor indeed." Snape murmured as slipped past Remus on his way out the

kitchen. His theatrically flapping robes allowing him to slip his note to

Remus unnoticed by anyone.

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Betaed by Marc the Unruly

5. Chapter 5: Changing Britain

Part 1

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Chapter Five: When the Potters Changed Magical Britain Part 1

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Dumbledore heaved a sigh that seemed to resonate through his entire

office. Fawkes gave a comforting croon from his perch, but it did little to

help Dumbledore. He threw the appropriate amount of Floo powder into

the fireplace and stepped through to the atrium of the Ministry.

Harry's trial before the entire Wizengamot had been re-confirmed by a

member of the Houses partaking in the trial, who was also an old

acquaintance of his.

He hurried through the wand check and then through the familiar

corridors of the Ministry of Magic, barely noting the whispers and the not

so respectful gestures.

If Harry had only talked to me before he charged off to Australia… How did

the letter even get through wards? Once he comes back to Britain, I will have

to re-ward Grimmauld Place. Maybe mentioning his relation to Sirius would

guarantee his cooperation until school begins again.

Dumbledore's musings and progress through the Ministry were

interrupted and halted by a Ministry owl bearing a letter and screeching

as it tried to catch up with him. With a sigh, Dumbledore changed his

route. The letter stated the new time for the trial and its relocation from

Madame Hopkin's office to Courtroom Ten, which he hadn't seen the

interior of since the last of the Death Eater trials shortly after Harry

vanquished Tom.

He quickly sent a Patronus message to Kingsley Shacklebolt to make his

way to the courtroom, in case his and Nymphadora Tonks' word as

witnesses were needed.

It was a slightly flustered and out of breath Dumbledore who opened the

door to the courtroom, noting with a twinge of worry that the trial had

already begun.

Dear Merlin, they will try him in absentia!.

"Defense for the accused, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore.

Unfortunately, I just now received a notice regarding the change in venue

and time-"

"Ah, and to the rescue at the last minute." A strong but young voice called

from near the Accused Chair. Dumbledore spotted two figures standing

by the chair but could not see the faces. "Thank you for joining us,

Headmaster Dumbledore, but your services are not needed."

The figure then turned his attention to the judging body, ignoring

Dumbledore's presence like one would an unnecessary pawn upon a chess

board.

"Selected members of the esteemed Wizengamot, I must beg your pardon

on behalf of my client, but the grounds and evidence upon which this

trial is based are not substantial enough for a trial of this size and

magnitude-." The silken voice of the second figure was cut off rudely by

the croak-like cough of the Minister's Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge.

"I beg your pardon, Solicitor Wells, but the evidence is quite clear that

your client unlawfully used two spells in the vicinity of muggles. Students

usually learn the consequences of such transgressions by the end of their

first year. As such, I motion to have the objection overturned."

A nod from Minister Fudge overruled the well-known solicitor's

objection.

Dumbledore's stomach clenched uncomfortably as his mind quickly

analyzed the situation from more perspectives than the human brain

should be possible of.

"Thank you, Madame. Your assessment of the circumstantial evidence

will be revisited later on." The second figure said with a pretty vicious

smile. Dumbledore wondered what the solicitors had up their sleeves.

"Since I, Henry James Potter, stand accused. I offer my side of the story."

Harry? Dumbledore wondered baffled. The first figure is Harry? How…

Dumbledore's contemplation ended with the end of Harry's dramatic

pause.

"I received the letter of my eminent expulsion while managing Potter

Family Matters with the Head of the Australian Cadet Branch of the Most

Noble and Ancient House of Potter. This is evidenced by the international

portkeys of my trip there and back." He gestured to his solicitor, who

made copies of the documentation. Dumbledore noted the creation of

three times as many copies as necessary as he took an empty seat.

Clever boy, not to cast the spell himself. Fudge would only trump up charges.

"Impossible! You are but a halfbl- a boy! You cannot be Lord of a House."

Umbridge snarled nearly foaming at the mouth. "This documentation

means nothing!" She said grabbing the documents nearest her and setting

these alight with a vindictive smile.

With a calm smile, Harry narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Woman! I am

Henry James Potter, the Potter, Lord and Head of the Most Noble and

Ancient House of Potter. You dare question the will of my Family's

Magik, sprat!" The room seemed to swell with magic at his nearly

whispered proclamation.

Umbridge squeaked and paled. Such a solecism against an Olde House

would usually flatten a minor House, such as hers, in fines and blood

feuds. Some of the members of the hand-picked jury began looking quite

uncomfortable, even Fudge shifted his seat slightly away from the

woman.

"I shall deal with your offense later," Harry said in such a deadly calm

manner that Dumbledore almost fell victim to the belief that Harry

practiced Occlumency. "As Lord Potter, I willing state that numerous

grievances and crimes committed against my House have forced me to

take the helm prematurely."

"Due to the suspicious nature of the crimes committed, House Potter

demands retribution!"

As if rehearsed, a loud boom echoed through the courtroom at the end of

his exclamation. Three of the other entrances to the chamber slammed

open and, if Dumbledore counted correctly, the entirety of the

Wizengamot poured in elegantly but swiftly.

"A-a full meeting. Weatherby, was a meeting scheduled for today?" A

sickly looking Cornelius Fudge stammered inconsolably.

Fudge's assistant and court scribe, Percy Weasley, quickly and futilely

looked through a quite large and precariously stacked mountain of

parchment.

"You didn't think you could try a House Lord with only your endorsers

and supportive quarter of the Wizengamot, did you Minister?" Harry gave

a small, mocking laugh. "Even a first-year student under Binns' tutelage

would be able to tell you that is foolhardy."

A small chatter rose as the rest of the Wizengamot settled in their seats

and laughed at Harry's joke. Fudge blushed and shrank in his seat.

A clearly bemused Harry turned his back fully to the members aligned

with Fudge on the Prosecutor Podium, a clear affront to their position,

power and significance. Dumbledore noted breathlessly that the entire

Wizengamot of members richer, decades older, learned and more

respected than any others in the land - and definitely more so than the

young Harry - went silent instantly due to either Harry's individual fame,

his Family's prestige or the aura he emitted. Dumbledore's mind suddenly

recalled Harry's grandfather, Charles Potter.

"Honorable and esteemed fellow members of this glorious and centuries-

wise body, I ask your forgiveness for my last minute call-to-action, but

House Potter has been grievously discredited, mishandled and falsely

incriminated for too long. Her Magik weeps within my veins with the

injustice. WE DEMAND JUSTICE!" Harry thundered.

Dumbledore nearly fainted on the spot. As if to emphasize the truth of his

argument, Harry had released Family Magik into the room, tinged with

pain and suffering. The invisible shockwave of magic caused many

members to sit up in their chairs. How in Merlin's beard is this possible?

"Dear Sweet Morgana, we've awakened another Potter Dragon." The

venerable Lady Cassiopeia Black murmured from a few seats over from

Dumbledore.

"Lord Potter, what is your grievance?" The newly inducted Chief Witch

Lady Marchbanks asked with a strong voice. Dumbledore doubted he

could have mustered a similarly powerful voice in the face of such an

accusation. Such a plea had not been brought before the body in quite

some time, and not in living memory with such conviction.

"House Potter has been misrepresented in this body by stewards not

appointed by Us for nearly 15 years, all while I, then Lord Apparent and

Heir Potter, was raised ignorant of the Ways expected of the Potters." The

buzzing of questions and angry commentary arose like a wave of angry

bees.

Dumbledore felt sweat gather on his brow. He knows...

"NOT ONE," Harry thundered, effectively ending the side chatter as if

with a Vanishing spell. "Not one brother or sister House questioned my

ignorance or reached out to offer a semblance of assistance. Where were

my oath-bound brother and sister Houses; where were you, their Lords

and Ladies, when House Potter needed you?" He growled out the last bit,

every bit the lion and dragon on his Family Emblem.

A thoroughly flustered Percy Weasley shot off a small sound with his

wand, showing that he needed a moment for his recording quill to catch

up. He received a patient nod from Harry who chatted briefly with

Solicitor Wells in the meantime.

Quite a few members looked chastised, yet also relieved by the court

scribe's interruption, as Dumbledore felt.

"Spanked like a bunch of naughty toddlers… I foresee much groveling

after this meeting." Lady Black prophesied in astounded approval.

"As touching as his sob story is, he will not leave this room unless bound

in chains as the criminal he is." Lucius Malfoy declared hotly. Several of

his usual lackeys nodded along in agreement.

Lady Black chortled nastily. "Yet, you witness, as do we all, the

Wizengamot swinging to his tune and hanging on his every word like

tamed Hippogriffs. You, Lucius, bet on the wrong Pegasus and poked the

wrong dragon. House Black, a sibling House to House Potter, through

recent marriage, shall throw their lot in properly."

Heads turned to her, baffled. "Surely you jest, Lady Black." Lord Crabbe

whispered cryptically and furiously as if trying to keep Dumbledore and

the Minister's staff from hearing. "The winds are beginning to blow and

shadows speak of reawakening the cause for which House Black sacrificed

its sons and daughters not many years ago."

With an elegant huff, the grey-haired Lady Black countered, "A tragic

sacrifice that destroyed my House and nearly robbed it of worthy Heirs.

The most powerful, worthy and sane of which stands before us… and he

appears ready to continue now that the useless blood traitor of a court

scribe has caught up, so please show some respect."

Her praise and acknowledgment of Harry as a Black Heir took most in

earshot, even Dumbledore, by surprise. By publicly declaring him a

worthy Heir, she had ultimately named him a Lord Apparent. With

Toujours Pur as their House motto, and due to the number of disowned

half-bloods, squibs and "blood traitors" only well-bred pure-blooded

Blacks were considered worthy. Harry Potter was the very opposite.

Her slighting of Lucius' son, Draco Malfoy, also a Black Heir, did not go

unnoticed, judging by the look on Lucius Malfoy's face and tightening of

his hand on his cane. It was only the subtle and questioning look sent by

Minister Fudge that prevented a potentially violent and politically

disastrous outburst.

"And while learning of this atrocity with the help of the Head of a

foreign, Cadet Branch of House Potter," loud intakes of breath met his

statement, such was unheard of, "there was a dastardly and fatal attack

on my custodial family, the muggle family of my mother also under the

protection of House Potter as declared by my dearly departed father some

twenty years ago."

The silence was truly impressive. Dumbledore found himself, for once,

wishing to be on the other side of the podium. The energy in the room

and captivated audience were what had originally attracted him to

politics.

"This attack," Harry seemed in his element. He paced and gestured to his

solicitor, who removed a piece of copy parchment and duplicated it,

"made by soul-hungry Dementors who Kissed on sight, was ordered by

someone in this very room." Everyone held their breath.

Harry turned slightly to look over the shoulder. "Now, you may speak,

Madam Umbridge."

There was a hum of startled murmuring.

"YOU FOUL, LITTLE BRAT! How dare you make such false accusations to

weasel your way out of trouble!"

Harry slammed his hand onto the shackled chair before him. "So this is

not your signature - written as mandated by laws of your creation under

careful instruction by our honorable Minister - by means of a Blood Quill,

releasing two Dementors from Azkaban to an address, my and my

mother's family's former address, previously known only to two people in

this room, the Minister and Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"Merlin's beard! Dolores?" Minister Fudge said aghast as he received a

copy of the document.

"This- THIS IS A FAKE!" Umbridge was puce with rage, fear and possibly

embarrassment at getting caught.

"A simple revealing spell should be enough," Harry said to the Chief

Witch who did just that and accepted the evidence with a nod. "Sloppy

work, Madam Umbridge. Next time, be sure to destroy not only the

original documents but also the authorized copy in the Hall of Records."

He chided with a cluck of his tongue.

"So while House Potter is being vilified in the press as part of Minister

Fudge's smear campaign to protect his political career and redirect

attention from his own negligence, childish denial and misdeeds, his

Undersecretary conspired – whether with or without Fudge's

authorization is yet to be seen - to destroy House Potter and its Lord

Potter in one sweep and with two Dementors."

The pressure of magic within the room built with every word. Even the

flames in the torches on the wall grew more ominous. Dumbledore's

wand hand trembled in fearful anticipation. The last time he felt so much

repressed rage, he had been sparing wand to wand with Tom Riddle.

Dear Merlin, let me be wrong in my assumption that Voldemort can control

the boy.

"Not only am I, Lord Potter, being falsely accused of casting not one, but

TWO different Patronuses simultaneously, which would be an amazing

magical phenomenon especially from halfway across the globe," a gesture

to his solicitor had the official notification from the Office of Misuse of

Magic and other copies of the documentation of his international

portkeys disseminated to the Wizengamot.

"No, that was not enough." Harry waved an arm at the group of members

seated behind him with his back still to them. "I, Lord Potter, was

dragged before Minister Fudge's group of paid and pompous lackeys,

blackmailed victims and notorious aye-sayers LIKE A COMMON

CRIMINAL!"

Dumbledore fingered his wand worried by the spike in magic. Lady

Black, completely ignoring Harry's insult, silently clapped her hands like

an excited baby. Fudge, Umbridge, and their followers looked very

worried by the hissing made by the other members of the Wizengamot.

And, as if someone had suddenly popped a balloon, the magical pressure

within the room was suddenly released. Several people loudly exhaled in

relief.

"Well, Minister Fudge," Harry calmly continued, "if you wish to treat me

as a criminal, and offer no other seating accommodations for my trial, I

am obliged to accept until my innocence is proven." Harry nodded to his

solicitor and faced the pale faces of his accusers bravely. With an elegant

flourish, he seated himself upon the Accused Chair and was promptly

shackled.

The room was filled with outrage. Some Lords and Ladies were pounding

the stands before their seats, calling for heads. Minister Fudge shrank

further into his seat.

"I, Lord Potter, the Potter, by the honor of my Family's apparent position

within this esteemed body, call for and accept the application of

Veritaserum to prove my innocence. So mote it be."

"So mote it be," murmured Dumbledore absentmindedly along with

nearly every other member of the Wizengamot. That was pretty standard

procedure for innocent witches and wizards who found themselves sitting

in the Accused Chair and knew the ways of the Wizengamot. It also

greatly reduced the duration of a trial.

Harry's solicitor produced two vials of liquid, most likely Veritaserum

and the antidote. "The Defense calls upon the Honorable Lady Bones in

her role as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement-."

"I'm coming. No need to drag this out any longer, Wells. I would like to

have my morning cup soon." The monocled, no-nonsense woman said,

descending the stairs. She nodded to the solicitor and leaned slightly to

speak softly to the shackled, straight-backed Lord.

"What I would pay to have a house elf near the chair for that discussion."

Lady Black declared fairly loudly. It was public knowledge that the

Potters were close oath-comrades with the Bones, Longbottoms, and

McKinnons. Harry's accusation against his Sibling Houses must have

struck Lady Bones' pride extremely hard.

Her words caused both parties to up look at her briefly before Madame

Bones went through the protocol on the spells and results' colors that

would prove the potions were what the solicitor stated they were - a form

of pure truth serum that could be only remedied minutes after ingestion

and could only be taken once a week for fear of mental magic

destruction. It was so strong that even the strongest of Occulmens could

only rephrase their answers to evade directly answering.

Dumbledore was shocked that a 15-year-old would be forced to drink it.

And judging by the nervous or furious whispers within the room, the

other members were either afraid or shocked or both like Dumbledore.

"If it isn't too much of a burden, my client would prefer that you look

over and approve this list of prepared questions. As Head of the DMLE-."

The woman impatiently removed the list from his hands. "I was in the

field when you were still in your nappies, Robert. No need to

continuously remind me how to do my job." Solicitor Wells bowed his

head in obvious amusement. A small wave of laughter passed through the

courtroom at the comic relief provided by the usual banter between the

two. Their legendary verbal sparring in the court was often joked about

in the backrooms of the Wizengamot.

As Madame Bones' eyes roamed the parchment for any unlawful or

irrelevant questions, her monocle slipped from her face and fell with a

resounding crash to the floor. "Sweet Merlin!"

With a flick of her wand, the glass was repaired, cleaned and the monocle

was back in its rightful place.

"T-The questions are accepted." Unbeknownst to all but perhaps

Dumbledore's magically enhanced half-moon glasses, she tapped the

Auror medallion in her pocket in a sequence unfamiliar to him while

murmuring under her breath.

Harry obediently opened his mouth to accept the offered drops before his

eyes immediately glazed over.

"Please state your full name and title for the record."

"Henry James Potter, Lord and Head of the Most Noble and Ancient

House of Potter, Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of

Peverell, Lord of the Most Venerable House of Gryffindor, Heir of the

Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

Dumbledore reeled in his seat. The amount of political power Harry held

had not been previously known by anyone, not even him. Should Harry

join the Wizengamot, he would carry 8 votes - 2 votes for each of his

Peverell and Potter Lordships and 4 for his Gryffindor Lordship. And if

Sirius passed off the Black Lordship, he would have an additional 4. With or

without the Black Lordship, Harry would be the highest ranked voter in

the Wizengamot. The Chief Witch or Wizard only held 2 votes plus their

Family Seat, as well as an honored veto vote. At the moment, Lady

Esmeralda Jones held the highest rank with a voting power of 7 votes

from the Most Noble and Most Ancient House McKinnons and the Noble

and Ancient House Jones in addition to the Venerable House of

Hufflepuff.

Dumbledore had his friend Elphias Doge voting with the Potter vote. He

hadn't wanted his opponents to call him out for pandering and misusing

the Potter votes, the Dumbledore vote, his Order of Merlin vote and the

Chief Wizard vote. He and Elphias made sure to show different opinions

every now and then. If he had known that the Potter vote included 8

votes, he could have had more laws passed.

He noted others doing the quick mental math as well. Fudge looked as if

someone had told him his term had just ended. It might as well have. The

loud wave of murmurs from the courtroom was cut off by Solicitor Wells.

"The truth serum is in effect. I ask for a selective silence ward around my

client so as not to confuse Lord Potter." The solicitor said with an

accusatory glance at the members seated on the podium. It was clear that

Harry and his solicitor really only wanted to keep unsavory people from

asking personal, unrelated questions.

Lady Bones cast a rather impressive selective sound ward around Harry

and his solicitor, an Auror's standard procedure. Solicitor Wells nodded

his thanks and began the rapid questioning.

"Lord Potter, when did you learn you are a wizard?"

"At age eleven when Gamekeeper Hagrid brought me my Hogwarts letter

under orders from Headmaster Dumbledore." Dumbledore twitched under

the glares from more than a few members.

"When did you learn the ways of your House?"

"This previous summer from the Head of the Australian Cadet Branch of

Potters."

"Who left you with the squib sister of your mother?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore." More angry looks.

"When did you meet your magical guardian after your re-entry to the

magical world?"

"I did not. I have never met an individual who introduced themselves as

my magical guardian." The aghast whispers with more than a few

members pointing in Dumbledore's direction.

Merlin stay me by. It was pretty common knowledge that Dumbledore

locked the Potter Will and assumed guardianship of Harry. For him to

never tell the boy that he was his guardian also showed that Dumbledore

never spoke to Harry of his rightful position as Head of the Most Noble

and Ancient House of Potter or as Heir and Lord to the other Houses.

Just as Dumbledore prayed that Harry and his solicitor would change

topics, they miraculously did just that.

"Please describe briefly your rescue of the Philosopher's Stone your first

year at Hogwarts."

"Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and I fought our way through the

obstacles set up by the professors to protect the Stone after finding out

the stone would be stolen. We evaded a Cerberus, Devil's Snare,

enchanted keys, an animated chessboard, a potion puzzle, and I went

through alone to keep the Stone from falling into the wrong hands. I

fought Professor Quirrell, who had been possessed by the specter of Lord

Voldemort. The professor died after I touched him with my hands as the

protection provided by my mother's sacrifice still held. Voldemort's spirit

escaped weakened, I fainted from exhaustion, and I had somehow

managed to acquire the Stone from the Mirror of Erised."

It seemed to take a few moments for the members of the Wizengamot to

wrap their minds around this information. Harry and his solicitor seemed

to have particular targets in mind with their specific questions. They also

did not seem to care too much about going into details, or smoothly

transitioning between topics, and continued after a moment.

"Who in this room was informed about this?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore at least."

"Lady Bones, was an investigation or inquiry launched?"

The woman, who was standing stunned a few feet away from the boy,

started slightly at the sudden question, shook her head and cleared her

throat. "No."

"Lord Potter wishes to lodge a formal complaint against Headmaster

Dumbledore and the Ministry for leaving himself and nearly 600 students

in a dangerous situation with the specter of the Dark Lord. Is that correct,

Lord Potter?"

"Yes."

"Did you use magic in the summer between your first and second year, as

recorded by the Ministry?"

"No."

"Who performed the magic in your vicinity, as stated on your record?"

"The Malfoy house elf, Dobby."

"Lord Potter demands an investigation into how a Malfoy house elf

breached the wards created by Headmaster Dumbledore. Is that correct

Lord Potter?"

"Yes."

Malfoy shifted slightly in his seat.

"Did you defeat the centuries-old basilisk of Lord Salazar Slytherin within

Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets your second year?"

"Yes." Small chatter began at this.

"Please explain briefly what happened in the chamber."

Harry spun a captivating story in his monotone voice about how his best

friend was attacked, his research on snakes, his parseltongue abilities

(which had Lady Black swelling with delight) and his encounter with

acromantulae in the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore made a note to talk to

Hagrid about sending two Second Year students into such a dangerous

situation.

By the time Harry told how he rescued young Ginevra from Tom with

Gryffindor's sword, Basilisk venom, Phoenix tears, and the destruction of

the diary, many of the members were giving him a standing ovation.

The court scribe had all but abandoned his note-taking and was staring at

Harry in shock.

"Goodness, Gryffindor's Heir with Slytherin's gift!" Lord Nott, a renowned

historian, murmured amazed from beside the ecstatic Lady Black.

"Whose diary was behind the attacks?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort, the diary was in the

care of Lucius Malfoy-."

"OBJECTION! He is lying!" Lucius Malfoy snarled furiously jumping up

from his seat. The Chief Witch merely stared him to silence.

"Lord Potter is under pure truth serum, Lord Malfoy. Please maintain your

composure." She said with narrowed eyes. She turned to Solicitor Wells.

"Please continue with the questioning."

"I must object to the relevance of the questions as well, Chief Witch." The

blond Lord continued smoothly. "Mr.- excuse me, Lord Potter is providing

thrilling stories which, however, have little to do with the matter at

hand."

"If I may, Chief Witch? Lord Malfoy brings up a viable point." Solicitor

Wells stated. "The purpose of the questions is not only to prove the

innocence in regard to the trial at hand but to refute any past, and

prevent subsequent, defamation of House Potter by this court. Thus, these

questions are to construct an accurate image of my client's character and

actions."

Chief Witch Marchbanks conferred briefly with Lady Bones via eye

contact before nodding. "Since the questions have been considered

acceptable by the Head of the DMLE, and Lord Potter willingly subjected

himself to them, I will allow it."

Lucius Malfoy exhaled angrily and loudly from his nose before sitting

back down in his seat, steaming. Wells asked Harry to continue his story.

The entire room laughed loudly at the blond Lord as Harry described

how he freed the Malfoy house elf and how that very same elf knocked

the Lord flat on his behind.

"Lord Potter, who in this room was informed of what happened in the

chamber?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy and Minister Fudge."

"Madame Bones, was an investigation or inquiry launched?"

"No," she declared from her newly conjured seat a few feet from Harry.

"Lord Potter wishes to lodge a formal complaint against Headmaster

Dumbledore and the Ministry for leaving him and nearly 600 students in

a dangerous situation with the specter of the Dark Lord, a nest of

unreported acromantulae and a centuries-old basilisk. Is that correct,

Lord Potter?"

"Yes."

It was clear to all that Harry had effectively turned the tables on the

Ministry and that the Minister's plot to further discredit the Potter Lord

had blown up in his face like a bad potion. Dumbledore and the school

were also taking a few hits, but since no students had died during either

incident, the school charter supported Dumbledore's decision in keeping

the Ministry out of the loop.

It was Dumbledore's interference in Potter Family Matters that would

cause him some issues especially with the Olde Families.

Yet, how is any of this possible! A person does not go from shy and antisocial

to politically savvy, informed and eloquent in two weeks' time. Maybe the

Potters had time turners in their arsenal? Dumbledore could feel a major

headache coming on as he pondered Harry's change.

He decided he would just have to pull Harry to the side after the

meeting, convince him to return to Headquarters and get the whole story

out of him somehow.

.

.

AN: Thanks for all of the support and questions. Many questions had

already been worked into the plot (great minds think alike and such)! If

you bring up a really cool point or idea that I can incorporate, I will

definitely give you a shout out!

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

6. Chapter 6: Changing Britain

Part 2

.

.

Chapter Six: When the Potters Changed Magical Britain Part 2

.

.

Last time:

Yet, how is any of this possible! A person does not go from shy and antisocial

to politically savvy, informed and eloquent in two weeks' time. Maybe the

Potters had time turners in their arsenal? Dumbledore could feel a major

headache coming on as he pondered Harry's change.

He decided he would just have to pull Harry to the side after the meeting,

convince him to return to Headquarters and get the whole story out of him

somehow.

.

.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore noticed that Minister Fudge and

Undersecretary Umbridge were gesturing angrily at the papers on the

table in front of them while carrying on a whispered argument. A sudden

uproar from the members of the Wizengamot brought Dumbledore, the

Minister, and Madame Umbridge back to the matter at hand.

Percy Weasley seemed to have exclaimed the loudest and was flushed

with embarrassment for some reason. Ah yes, we should be hearing about

Harry's third year. Mr. Weasley must have learned that his pet rat was the

person responsible for revealing the secrets of the Potters to Voldemort.

A small announcement of Harry Potter's private Godfather Ceremony on

September 30th, 1980, apparently the most recent document of evidence,

lay before him.

Dumbledore's stomach dropped as he read the magically highlighted

words "Godparent Oath" on the announcement. Such a Magical Oath

declared that person would never willingly harm either the Godchild or

its family with the penalty of losing their own magic. Anyone with an

ounce of sense would know then that Sirius could not have betrayed the

Potters.

Dumbledore held the paper with trembling fingers. He hadn't known...

"Who in this room knew of your foray with Lord Black, and thus of his

wrongful imprisonment?"

"Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore."

The previously jovial Lady Black suddenly turned to look at Dumbledore

with fury in her stormy grey eyes. "You and I will be having words,

Headmaster!"

Dumbledore swallowed his fear impressively, nodding at the woman.

Lady Black was not known for being a politician as she was known for

her viciousness, for gathering information on everyone of interest and for

getting retribution for her Family by using said information. If she

thought Dumbledore knowingly sent Sirius Black to Azkaban and let him

remain there, he would be Target One on her hit list.

Dumbledore began mentally drafting his statement to the Daily Prophet

for the morning issue. There will be so much to comment on... That is, if I

am not blacklisted come morning.

"What happened to Peter Pettigrew after this moment?"

"He turned into a rat and escaped."

"What happened to you and Lord Black?"

"We were attacked by the Dementors stationed at the school."

"How many Dementors?"

"A hundred, possibly more." A bit of pride broke through Harry's

monotone voice.

Solicitor Wells copied and disseminated the documentation signed in

Blood Quill by Minister Fudge that relocated over a 100 Dementors to be

stationed at Hogwarts.

"How were you able to fight off the Dementors?"

"With the Patronus Charm."

"OBJECTION! There is no way that boy was able to cast such a powerful

spell at 13. This must be fabricated!" Madam Umbridge yelled.

"Indeed! And if this is fabricated, who is to say that everything else we've

been spooned here has a single shred of truth to it." Lucius added quickly.

"I motion to have-."

Already moving before Malfoy had spoken, Solicitor Wells removed

Harry's holly wand from the boy's robes and placed it in the boy's hand.

"Could you please perform the charm?" He asked loudly, effectively

speaking over Lord Malfoy.

"Expecto Patronum."

Even under sedation, a glorious corporeal stag emerged from Harry's

wand and charged around the silent room - its hooves pounding the floor

beneath it - before resting before its master and bowing as it dissipated.

Dumbledore could see Madame Marchbanks writing notes, no doubt now

in her capacity as Governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.

Such a performance before OWL examinations would most likely put

Harry on an expedited track to a Mastery in DADA.

Although Madame Umbridge's or Lord Malfoy's objections had not been

answered in any way, Harry's corporeal Patronus had sufficiently awed

the rest of the Wizengamot into forgetting just that. Lucius Malfoy

seemed paralyzed with a dropped jaw.

"Madame Bones, was an investigation or inquiry launched?"

Madame Bones, who had stood up in awe and whose monocle had again

fallen off, remained transfixed on the spot where the corporeal stag last

stood. She merely shook her head in the negative.

"Lord Potter wishes to lodge a formal complaint against Headmaster

Dumbledore and the Ministry for leaving himself and nearly 600 students

in a dangerous situation with the murderer Peter Pettigrew and 135

Dementors and for failing to declare the innocence of a falsely

imprisoned Lord. Is that correct, Lord Potter?"

"Yes."

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, have anyone do it for

you, or have knowledge of it being done on your behalf?"

"No. No. No."

"So you were an unwilling participant?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who put your name in?"

"Barty Crouch Jr., son of Barty Crouch Sr., who impersonated Alastor

Moody as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." Someone fainted on

the other side of the room and had to be revived by one of the nearby

members.

"What happened to him?"

"Minister Fudge had him Kissed by Dementors when he heard that an

escaped Death Eater had been found at Hogwarts."

Solicitor Wells copied the documentation and sent it to each member.

Taken a deep breath, Wells dropped the next dragon egg. "Briefly explain

what happened after you entered the maze for the Third Task of the

Triwizard Competition."

Despite Harry's monotone voice, he told a gripping narrative of each

obstacle he faced. Once he mentioned that the Triwizard Cup was a

portkey, many of the members on the podium next to Dumbledore

became restless. They obviously could not speak out as it would raise

suspicions, but Dumbledore worried what they would do when Harry

named them or their family members.

Harry, oblivious to this all, continued on in his monotone voice

describing Voldemort's resurrection in more detail than even Dumbledore

had been privy to. Dumbledore wondered briefly if the blood that Harry

unwillingly provided for Voldemort's new body would have discharged

the wards, allowing for the letter from Virgil Potter to slip through.

Seeming to revel in the shocked and frightened silence, Wells asked his

next question with a knowing smile in the direction of the podium.

"Which Death Eaters did the Dark Lord name in attendance?"

"OBJECTION!" Lucius Malfoy cried out suddenly, being immediately

overturned by the Chief Witch who narrowed her eyes in obvious

suspicion at the French-blooded Lord and leaned forward in anticipation.

"Avery, Vincent Crabbe Sr., Gregory Goyle Sr., Walden Macnair,

Theodore Nott Sr., and Lucius Mal-."

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Lucius Malfoy shouted, apparently still standing.

The green spell flew from his cane before the man himself was

surrounded by a blood red mist, which Dumbledore then identified as the

blonde's own blood. Lord Malfoy cried out in pain and fell to the floor

clutching his exploded wand hand.

Dumbledore's mind tracked the course of the green spell as it

simultaneously recalled the myth known to most old-blooded English

Lords that the courtroom punished those who tried to inflict harm on

other Lords within its boundaries at the price of their own magic. The

room had been a part of the original Wizarding Council which had been

founded during an age where assassination attempts were made

regularly. Malfoy, of obvious French descent, most likely had not known

of this, or merely just didn't consider it in his haste to shut the boy up.

Nevertheless, the rapidly paling, and most likely de-magicalizing, Malfoy

was completely ignored. Dumbledore and many others watched,

transfixed and paralyzed, as the green curse traveled the short distance

from the podium to the Accused Chair. The Elder wand jumped into his

hand a fraction of a second too late.

Several people cried out in shock as the sedated Boy-Who-Lived was

struck in the head by the green curse and slumped forward, lifelessly and

still shackled in his chair.

A second's beat passed where no one seemed to breathe. The disbelief

was palpable.

Then suddenly, pandemonium broke. Some members fainted or

screamed. Many members fell over themselves heading for the doors in a

panic, especially those near where Dumbledore sat. Some members had

fallen over in their seats in shock or were openly weeping. Solicitor Wells

had fallen to his knees by the lifeless teenager.

Dumbledore ignored the panic around him and sank into his chair as if

the weight of the world had been dumped onto his shoulders. The death

of an innocent youth had never been his goal. All he had done to and for

Harry was to prepare him for, what Dumbledore believed to be, an

inevitable and predestined task.

James and Lily, forgive me, please. Harry... I thought it was the only way.

With tears streaming down his face and his head in his hands,

Dumbledore only peripherally noted the Chief Witch ordering a lock-

down and calling for Aurors to detain the Wizengamot members

mentioned by Harry. It was minutes later when Dumbledore felt a wave

of negative energy from the Accused Chair. Only he and a few other

magic sensitive individuals in the room stopped what they were doing

and turned to the boy. Dumbledore noticed a pure black wisp escape

from Harry's scar and disappear almost instantly as if sucked away.

Dumbledore, who had been considering making his way through the

chaos to the fallen hope of the Wizarding World, stopped as the malicious

magic came and left.

He witnessed dumbfounded Harry's subsequent, almost instantaneous

awakening with a gasp.

"Gods, that was horrid." The raven-haired youth croaked. He looked

around at the chaos with wide eyes before turning to his solicitor, who

was pale, on his knees and seemed close to a nervous breakdown. "What

happened?"

The reaction to Harry's revival and words was so loud and emotional that

even the Chief Witch's sonoroused calls for order were drowned out.

Madame Bones had quickly dispatched the rest of the numerous Aurors,

who had been stationed by the doors, to restore order, bind the

apparently non-magical and unconscious Lucius Malfoy, the other named

Death Eaters and revive fallen, unconscious or emotionally upset

Wizengamot members. She personally checked on Harry.

Dumbledore considered going down to do his own diagnosis and confirm

his theory that the piece of Voldemort lodged in Harry's scar had been

removed, but he realized that such an action would only serve to distract

Harry and could be construed as tampering with and upsetting the

witness. He did not put it past the darker elements in the courtroom to

try to end the trial prematurely before they were revealed and tried.

And if Harry reacts negatively to my presence after surviving a second Death

Curse in front numerous witnesses, the speculation and negative press would

be endless, the political part of his mind argued.

Dumbledore righted his overturned chair and opted to bide his time.

Harry's survival, though surely wonderful and miraculous, had

nevertheless binned many of Dumbledore's theories and interpretations of

the prophecy made about the boy and Voldemort. He made a mental note

to go revisit the long list of possibilities that he had created, added to and

altered over the years.

Though it took some minutes, a semblance of order was established in

the room. Quite a few members asked for an intermission, but Chief

Witch Marchbanks staunchly rejected the notion. She chatted briefly with

Solicitor Wells and Madame Bones before declaring that the pale-looking

Harry would prefer to answer the remaining few questions.

"Absolutely astonishing." Lady Black declared next to Dumbledore. "Two

doses of pure Veritaserum, casting a corporeal Patronus and surviving a

second Death Curse while under sedation… all within an hour's time…

That boy will be considered Merlin reincarnate come morning."

The stunned silence in the room concurred with her assessment.

Solicitor Wells administered a new dosage of serum with visible quakes

in his hand.

Harry's eyes immediately glazed over.

"Please state your full name and main title for the record."

"Henry James Potter, Lord and Head of the Most Noble and Ancient

House of Potter."

The quiver in the man's voice was noticeable. "The truth s-serum is again

in effect."

"Lord Potter, you named Lucius Malfoy last as one of the Death Eaters at

the resurrection of the Dark Lord. Were there any more?"

"Yes, but I can only name those whose names I know."

"Understandable. Lord Potter wishes to provide the memory of the

resurrection for the DMLE for further investigation. Is that correct, Lord

Potter?"

Several people looked uncomfortable at that. None dared to follow

Malfoy's example, however.

"Yes."

"Who, in this room, was told of your kidnapping by the Dark Lord, his

revival, Cedric Diggory's true cause of death, and the names of the Death

Eaters present as the Dark Lord's resurrection ritual?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore and Minister Fudge."

"Madame Bones, was an investigation or inquiry launched?"

"No." She whispered, looking at the young man before her in disbelief.

"Lord Potter wishes to lodge a formal complaint against Headmaster

Dumbledore and the Ministry for leaving him to compete as a minor in a

dangerous competition meant for adults, for not investigating his

kidnapping by the Dark Lord and Barty Crouch Jr. and a special

complaint against the Minister for dishonoring his Oath of Office by de-

souling a witness without authorization, endangering the whole of

Magical Britain by letting the resurrected Dark Lord go uninvestigated

and for libel against Lord Potter. Is that correct, Lord Potter?"

"Yes."

Any chance that Minister Fudge had of maintaining his position until

next year's election had gone up in smoke. The glares the man was

receiving made Dumbledore wonder if the man would make it back to

clean out his office intact.

"When did learn that you had family other than your muggle and squib

relations?"

"This summer through Goblin Secured Post."

"Have you ever received post from Gringotts, fans, or from people you

haven't met in person before?"

"No. No."

"Lord Potter demands an investigation into how his post has been blocked

and who has been blocking it. Is that correct, Lord Potter?"

Dumbledore sighed inaudibly. At least I have a sound and honest answer for

that.

"Yes."

"Did you simultaneously cast the two different Patronuses for which you

are being tried?"

"No.

"When and where did you learn of this trial?"

"Yesterday, at the Potter Family home in Australia."

The solicitor signed in relief at the conclusion of the questioning and

asked the room, as was mandatory if there were questions for his client.

Chief Witch Marchbanks raised her hand. "Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named truly back?"

Harry responded immediately, indicating that the Silencing ward had

fallen. "Yes."

"What can we do to stop him?" Asked a shrill voice frightened.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"How are you still alive?"

A small unintelligible babble of questions rose, but Harry had already

begun answering.

"Stop fearing him and his servants, fight back. There are more if you than

there is of them. I don't know. Most likely because of the-." His solicitor

placed a hand over Harry's moving mouth.

"Please no unauthorized questions, Lady Jones, Lord Wilkes and Lord

Greengrass." Chief Witch Marchbanks growled banging her gavel.

No one else gestured that they had questions. Probably still dumbfounded

by Harry once again accomplishing the impossible, Dumbledore thought. A

small shiver of cold went down his back as he considered several

possibilities of how Harry's knowledge and finesse were possible. Perhaps

Tom's hold on Harry is deeper than I originally calculated. He has had nearly

14 years to bury himself in Harry's mind... The possibilities were endless,

and the chances of defeating Voldemort very slim if he had two footings

in the mortal realm.

Dumbledore filed his suspicions away for the moment.

With a very anticlimactic end to the mind-boggling interrogation, Harry

was given the antidote to the truth serum.

Without missing a beat, his posture straight-backed, Harry declared in a

soft but resonate voice, "With this farce of a trial behind me, I demand to

be released from the chair."

With a gesture from Madame Bones, two Aurors scrambled to release

Harry from the Accused Chair. Harry nodded his thanks before turning to

the Wizengamot members not on the prosecution podium.

"Esteemed Wizengamot members, all of you bore witness to this travesty

of a trial, to the horrific knowledge that has been hidden from you all in

name of politicking. Such a scandal in England will ruin our international

prestige… especially when it becomes public knowledge that I, Lord

Potter, am actively considering leaving this island of my ancestors and

turning my back on both its educational and legislative institutions-."

His following words being drowned out by screams and shouts of outrage

caused him to raise his voice.

"DUE TO THE NUMEROUS MURDEROUS AND COWARDLY ATTEMPTS

ON MY PERSON!" He shouted with righteous outrage. The torches

flickered ominously.

Dumbledore didn't see until Harry turned that he was eying each member

of the body with palpable suspicion and disgust.

Harry suddenly pounded on his own chest. "My Family Magik cries for

solatium and justice that this body seems unwilling and incapable of

providing. My Family Honor screams for retribution and an immediate

withdrawal of all assets as well as oaths, loans, and debts to the Potter

Family."

Many members paled. Such an act would disable the economy. The

Potters had investments in quite a few Families' businesses, and many

other companies held some type of economic relationship to the Potters

as well. Not to mention what would happen after should he do the same with

the Lordship of any of his other Houses.

With a respectful nod to the room, Harry finished. "I leave you to your

ruling and bid you all a good day," Harry said. He nodded politely to

Madame Bones and began helping his solicitor in gathering his papers.

Dumbledore edged out of his seat in order to catch Harry before he left

the courtroom. He was stopped by the ringing sound of a Wizengamot

member making a motion.

"I motion to declare Lord Potter innocent of all crimes and call for an

intermission as well an immediate trial for Madame Umbridge and Lucius

Malfoy under Veritaserum for the attempted murder of a Lord!" Shouted

Lady Augusta Longbottom.

"I second the motion." Added Lady Black, surprisingly, causing whispers

to break out on the opposite side of the chamber. Never before had a

Longbottom and Black agreed so readily on the floor.

"Noted." Declared Chief Witch Marchbanks after a nod from the court

scribe. "Any objections?"

No one made a sound

"Motion passes."

Madame Umbridge swelled in outrage as Aurors quickly silenced,

petrified and arrested her. The trussed woman was left like discarded

luggage near the Accused Chair.

"I call for an investigation into the Minister's Office and for the Minister

to step down immediately." Rumbled the venerable Lord Ogden.

"I second." Lady Bones stated with no hesitation.

"B-but you can't do that-."

"Noted." Chief Witch Marchbanks said, cutting Fudge off as one would an

impertinent child.

The aged woman looked directly at the retreating back of Harry and his

solicitor and seemed to come to a decision.

"As Chief Witch, and based on the evidence presented today, I declare

Magical Britain in a state of war against the so-called Lord V-vo…

Voldemort. Any servant of his is to be tried before this court on a basis of

treason."

"I second," Dumbledore stated gravely.

It was considered a formality to second the Chief Witch or Wizards

declaration. It was, also, Dumbledore's only chance to save face. This

would disrupt his many plans for Voldemort and Harry, but he would just

have to stay abreast of and adapt to the current situation.

Chief Witch Marchbanks' raised an eyebrow at him before she turned her

attention to Harry, who was nearly at the door and close to where

Dumbledore was edging to intercept him.

"Lord Potter." She called out, halting his steps, "Despite your past

experiences with the current administration and with Headmaster

Dumbledore, I invite you, and I hope you will stay, to join this body in

providing the justice you seek." She paused just as Harry turned to

acknowledge her and her fetial offering. "I declare you innocent of all

crimes brought forward by the Ministry today."

Harry smiled and conferred briefly with his solicitor. After a moment of

deliberation, which caused more than a few to shift nervously in their

seats, Harry responded. "I am honored, Chief Witch Marchbanks. I, Lord

Potter of Peverell and of Gryffindor, hereby swear to bear the burden of

vigilance, protect my country, and join this body as my ancestors have

done since its inception. So mote it be."

"So mote it be." The chamber chanted as one and cheered as the room's

magic created a chair for Harry next to Madame Bones' no longer vacant

one in the stands.

"Going from prosecuted to a prosecutor in one session is unheard of, Lord

Potter, even more so considering your age. I assume we can expect great

things from you; you are an asset to your ancestors." The Chief Witch

intoned as Harry took his hereditary seat, shaking hands with some of the

members while being cheerfully applauded. "I declare this session a

sealed war session. No one will be allowed to leave until all prisoners

have been interrogated, Lord Potter's memories and complaints have

been assessed and all points on the soon to be determined war agenda are

voted on."

She gestured to Lady Bones, who turned to her Aurors with a steely

order. "Aurors! Seal the room!"

Chief Witch Marchbanks continued while the Aurors magically sealed the

five doors. "House elves will be providing refreshments momentarily. I

call for an intermission of ten minutes while evidence and potions are

being gathered for the upcoming session."

With a bang of her gavel, the future of Magical Britain had been changed.

Dumbledore went back to his chair, his thoughts swirling rapidly as he

pondered his next moves and how this newly inducted Lord Potter would

be a part of them.

.

.

AN: I have this whole story now completely mapped out. Feel free to feed

my muse with ideas, though.

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

7. Chapter 7: The Black Side

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Chapter Seven: The Black Side

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.

It was with a weary sigh that Sirius sat down at the breakfast table in his

Family House.

No one had heard anything from Dumbledore or Shacklebolt since

yesterday morning. Tonks had repeatedly told everyone all she knew.

Dumbledore had messaged them via Patronus to be ready to inform the

Wizengamot that it had been their Patronuses cast that night. She said

they had waited nearly thirty minutes, during which what seemed like

the entire Wizengamot entered the room, chatting excitedly about the

summons from a new Lord.

She reported that after around five minutes Shacklebolt and over 20

other Senior Aurors were summoned by Madame Bones to guard the

doors, and, after a while, an emergency signal came and more Aurors

were called in, with five Aurors guarding the doors. Tonks recalled

hearing screams and shouts from within the courtroom, but she had not

been able to see much before her fellow Aurors closed the doors.

Many within the Order seemed to forget that, as an Auror, Tonks was

trained to quickly and thoroughly observe and recall minute details, and

they tried to squeeze more information out of her. After repeating the

same information and answers several times, Tonks stormed off in

frustration, leaving the Order to hours of fruitless speculation.

I should have just taken Prongs Jr. and disappeared. Why on Earth did I listen

to Dumbledore… again?

Sirius had asked himself the same thing many times this summer. As

Harry's magical godfather, it was his duty to care for Harry. And twice,

he had stupidly allowed Dumbledore to impose on his guardianship. The

first time Sirius gave Harry to Hagrid who was following "Dumbledore's

orders" and then again Sirius listened to the old goat after Voldemort's

return.

"It is imperative that Harry returns to his relatives to charge the Blood wards.

I'm sorry, Sirius, but I can't let him come to Headquarters until late summer."

Dumbledore had said to him in a sympathetic voice nearly two months

ago.

It almost as if he doesn't care about Harry as a person rather just as a means

to end Voldemort.

Fortunately, it was not only Sirius who saw it so. Early in the summer,

just as the new Order members had been inducted, Sirius had walked in

on Remus and Bill Weasley having a rather heated discussion with

Snivell- Severus regarding Harry, Dumbledore and the Prophecy.

"If anyone gets hurt on this silly mission, I plan on resigning from the Order

immediately!" Bill Weasley's voice was muffled by the sitting room's door.

"William…"

"No, Remus. I only joined because I thought we would be actively fighting

against You-Know-Who, not 'guarding' weapons!"

"Don't you dare call Harry that! Dumbledore truly cares for him as if he were

his own family."

"What makes you think I was referring to Harry?" Bill said, smiling in victory.

Remus ducked his head slightly. "I know what everyone is saying about

Dumbledore leaving Harry with his relatives. But it is in his best interests! And

Albus has seen to it that-."

A derisive snort met the rather enthusiastic praise of Dumbledore. "Remus, I've

come to respect you greatly over the past weeks, but you are unfortunately so

far in Dumbledore's pocket that you've seemed to have lost your grasp of

reality."

"It is the beast in him." A snarky Snape had said.

The impromptu meeting continued with Severus providing an

illuminating summary of Harry's previous years at Hogwarts,

Dumbledore's negligence of Harry, his Lordship and his position as

Harry's magical guardian.

Sirius jumped into the conversation then. He and Remus had ranted and

raged at Snape for not doing enough to protect Harry before the man cut

the two of them down rather effectively.

"And where were you?" Severus snarled furiously at the two. "Licking your

paws and wallowing piteously in self-loathing, grief and remorse? I, at least,

honored Lily's memory by trying to save the brat and discipline him into an

upright person."

Despite the fact that the four decided to watch Dumbledore's actions and

protect Harry as much as possible if needed. Sirius was still smarting

from the vicious truth many days afterward.

Remus had taken it especially hard. While Sirius had been incarcerated,

Remus had had no such excuse for never having taken an active interest

in Harry's well-being. Sirius caught him piss drunk and asleep in his room

days after their first meeting. He made a mental note to talk to Remus

about it, he knew how depressed Moony could get.

"Beating up porridge, grand-nephew? And I thought our Family could

stoop no lower." A sharp voice said, yanking him abruptly out of his

thoughts in the gloomy kitchen.

Sirius floundered in shock and his bowl crashed to the ground.

In the kitchen door frame stood Cassiopeia Black, looking as intimidating

as she had been twenty years prior when she stared down Sirius' father

for disinheriting him. Her face had thinned and aged quite a bit since

then, but her demeanor and posture remained outstanding even by Black

standards.

"Aunt Cassie? Wh-How?" Sirius' befuddled mind tried to comprehend how

the woman was standing before him.

But the Fidelius charm… Maybe Family Magik did confuse it despite

Dumbledore's reassurance.

She stood behind the seat she chose strategically and carefully, opposite

of Sirius but with a clear view of the room and waited patiently for his

manners to kick in. The etiquette Sirius had learned at his grandfather

Lord Arcturus Black's knee, from Lord Black to the Lord Apparent, forced

him up onto his feet. Almost instantly, he seated his Aunt properly.

"Kreacher! Tea!" He called as he vanished the mess his porridge bowl had

made.

The nasty elf appeared with a sparkling silver tea set. "The blood traitor

calls Kreacher, but Kreacher only answers because of Lady Black's

presence."

His aunt jolted in her seat. "Bite your tongue, elf!" His aunt growled

snapping off a rather violent stinging curse that caused Kreacher to sink

to his knees in agony. "You dare speak such bile in the presence of your

Masters! The years here alone with my dear niece's abominable portrait

must have stripped you of your sense!"

"I look at this fusty hovel, once a powerful symbol of our House, and

wonder how you dare to neglect your duties and spit on our generosity to

your ancestors. You ought to be dismembered and forced to clean with

your foul tongue. Consider this my only warning, beast, now be gone!"

The shaken elf's eyes widened comically before he disappeared with a

small snap.

Sirius chuckled while serving the tea. "I must say, your tongue hasn't lost

its venom, not one ounce."

A grim smile cracked the old woman's face. When he passed her the tea

he had made just as she preferred it from memory as he had done

numerous times in his youth, she grabbed his hands. "My dear Sirius, it

does my tired heart good to see you outside of that horrible place."

A warm feeling grew in his chest.

Between Narcissa's routine visits to her sister and stops to gloat at him,

only Aunt Cassie and his grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black III, had

stopped by to visit him. His grandfather had been so sickened and ailed

by the state of the Family that he only managed to stop by twice before

sickness prevented him. Sirius' animagus transformations, his innocence

and Aunt Cassie's yearly visits as Lady Regnant were the only things that

kept him sane.

"What brings you, Aunt?" A brief chill went down his back. "You can't be

seen! Dumbledore-."

She held up a hand that silenced him immediately. "Worry not. Not only

have I placed a Black ward on the door to confound any who come to the

dining hall to feel the need to get more sleep, but the esteemed

Headmaster will be occupied for quite some time trying, like many

others, to get an audience with Lord Potter."

Lord Potter? That could only be-.

"Harry," He gasped, spilling his tea. Is Harry Lord Potter? How in Merlin's

sack hair did that happen?

His Aunt gave a true smile, something Sirius had only seen rarely. "He

turned the Wizengamot on their heads!"

She spent the next few minutes giving Sirius a brief but excellent

overview of the very memorable and historic session. "I expect you will

be able to read it in more detail in the special morning edition of the

Prophet."

"H-he died?" He asked shaken. Harry's survival of yet another death curse

overshadowed the knowledge of his innocence being declared.

She nodded. "If only briefly." As if that did much to comfort him!

"And Malfoy?" He growled.

The vicious smile that crossed her face was her trademark, the one that

sent her victi- enemies scurrying in fear.

"I will leave that as a surprise for you. I believe you, as a Black, will

enjoy the retribution."

Sirius may have hated the Dark side of his Family, but righteous revenge

was something he could get behind.

With a gulp of pure elegance, his aunt emptied her cup and stood.

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, due to Lord Potter's coming to power and

Lord Malfoy's cowardly homicide, I will have to reconsider the actions of

the previous Lord Blacks in disowning so many born Blacks. I will be

spending the next weeks reestablishing the Family. You will hear from

me soon, dear nephew."

Sirius stood to escort her to the Floo. "Are you realigning the Family as

well?"

She took his arm with a firm grasp. "I cannot head the family for much

longer. I am more suited for subtle, shadow politicking. I grow tired of

the meetings, the squabbles, and the rigorous routine... I will need my

peace. I have been unable to head the Family to the standards of some of

our forefathers. Therefore, I would prefer to return to my research and

books." She sighed. "With such a powerful Heir Black and a recovering

Lord Apparent both with Light and Grey affiliations, what else can House

Black do to survive?"

As they left the quiet kitchen into the equally quiet corridor, Sirius was

confronted with his own internal conflict. The last thing he wanted to do

was head the Family that once represented all that he despised since he

was a kid.

As she released his arm with a gentle pat and grabbed some Floo powder,

she turned to Sirius and sighed. "I know the Family has done you more

injustice than good, but think of all the changes the combined strength of

House Potter and House Black can achieve if truly joined…"

With Voldemort back, we might have no choice, he completed for her.

Sirius gave a nod of understanding before a small ruckus from upstairs

caused him to flinch.

"And do try to keep the riffraff from destroying and stealing too many of

our Family heirlooms." She cast a mournful look in the direction of a few

piles of Black regalia and books near the fireplace. "The knowledge

within and value of many of these could be powerful in the right hands

and very dangerous in the wrong."

With a rush of green flames and a call of "Black Manor", she was gone.

Sirius cast a disgusted look at the piles she referred to, noting with some

apprehension that his aunt had been right. Throwing these away could do

us more harm than good. Especially if Death Eaters got a hold of them.

"Kreacher!"

The elf appeared before him and Sirius was taken aback by his changed

appearance. Gone were the dirty, worn rags and loincloth. In their place

was a starched toga with the Black Emblem proudly displayed on the

chest. The little elf even seemed to stand a bit taller, prouder.

"Master called." The elf executed a shaky but passable bow.

"Move all items of value and… of darker preferences to the Family vault

in Gringotts." It was pure luck that they had only just recently begun

piling the junk together to be destroyed.

Kreacher bit his lip. "Kreacher cannot, master. Many items been taken

already." He said fearfully.

Sirius' full attention snapped to him. "Who dares steal from m-us!" Family

Magik rose like a dark, invisible thunder cloud around them. It wouldn't

have mattered to him if someone took things after asking, but no one had

talked to him.

The elf looked at Sirius in awe. "The muggle-loving headmaster, the

smelly thief and the fat, blood-traitor bitch."

Sirius translated the Kreacher-speech into Mundungus Fletcher and Molly

Weasley. "What did they take? No one asked me if they could have

anything."

Kreacher grabbed his ears roughly. "The muggle lover took many books

and Master Regulus' locket." The elf cried. Sirius wondered briefly what

locket since his brother abhorred wearing jewelry. "The smelly thief took

many pieces of jewelry and all he could fit in his pockets."

"And Molly?" Kreacher gave a confused look. "The... fat, blood-traitor bi-

You know!"

"The Tiaras." Kreacher said fearfully. "She taked the Tiaras."

Sirius may have growled, but he couldn't tell as blood rushed to his ears.

He learned the story behind the Tiaras at his grandfather's knee.

The Blacks and the Prewitts had fought for years over three Goblin-made

tiaras made for three Black-Prewitt unions many centuries ago. One Black

daughter was to marry a Prewitt son per generation for three generations

in celebration of a successful trading pact. The Tiaras were the bride

price, considered priceless due to the Goblin-mined jewels, precious

metals and infused magic.

The business had turned sour as the Prewitts reneged on their part of the

trade due to financial difficulties, causing both families to suffer. The

newlywed Prewitt husband was found beating his Black wife in a

drunken rage and was cursed lame by her brother. The two remaining

marriage contracts were annulled, and the then Lord Black demanded the

return of the Tiaras but was denied by his financially down counterpart.

It was only through trickery that the Blacks received the Tiaras nearly a

hundred years later in the 16th century as the then Prewitt Lord found

himself facing hard financial turmoil. With the promise of quick funds

during a Goblin rebellion, the Prewitt Lord did not think to have the

jewelry properly appraised. The Tiaras were bought back by the Blacks at

a 1000th of their value. It was only after the return of the Tiaras that the

Blacks publicly released how much the Tiaras were truly worth, much to

the fury of the Prewitts. Since then, the Prewitts had all but declared a

Blood Feud, opposing the Blacks whenever and wherever they could.

Thank Merlin Aunt Cassie didn't know about Molly and her children staying

in the house. She might have ordered Kreacher to strangle them in their sleep.

He shuddered at the thought of what she would have done if she knew

about the theft of the Tiaras.

"Why didn't you stop them?"

"Bad Master ordered Kreacher not to interfere and to stay out of the way."

Kreacher snarled before banging his head against the wall in self-

punishment.

"Stop, Kreacher." He commanded deep in thought. "I want you to retrieve

everything stolen from us... as you clean the house," He paused and

cleared his throat, "by any means necessary."

A smile most evil grew on the elf's face. He bowed lower than Sirius

thought possible at his age and disappeared with a pop and a small look

of adoration.

Almost immediately, Sirius heard shrieks and yelling from upstairs. He

couldn't resist a small grin, maybe being cooped up in this old house won't be

so bad after all.

It was a full cup of tea later that the kitchen started filling with rudely

awakened Weasleys, Remus and Harry's friend Hermione.

"Sirius, you have to do something about that elf!" Molly harped as she

began making breakfast for her brood. "He threw all of us out of our

beds, randomly locked the doors to the bathrooms and started rummaged

through our things."

Sirius bit back a grin and gave a thoroughly confused, innocent look that

convinced all but Remus, who narrowed his eyes at him.

"Spending so much time with my mother's portrait unhinged the

deranged elf."

Harry's muggleborn friend glared at Sirius and Molly. "He can't do

anything about what he has been enslaved into doing. The poor thing."

Sirius chuckled softly but did not respond.

Lily had said something similar about the elves at Hogwarts until James

left a few books from his Family Library on her dorm bed about the Curse

of Elderon and the history of house elves. The current house elves were

the descendants of a small band of proud elves who lived in a stretch of

forest and had violently betrayed the owner of the land, a warlock named

Elderon. With his last strength, Elderon cursed and enslaved them and

their descendants for their misdeeds. This was a story usually known only

to purebloods who were taught such history by their families.

Muggleborns and half-bloods were, as usual, at a disadvantage.

Maybe I should recommend something similar to Harry. Maybe we could have

another muggleborn Lady Potter? Lily did stop hating James after that since

she was convinced that he was "cured of his arrogance" even though she began

advocating for freeing the elves of the curse.

His mind now solely revolving around getting the two teenagers together,

he missed the girl calling his name.

They would even have the same initials! It'd be perfect!

"Sirius!"

Sirius was ripped from his mental matchmaking. "Whaa?"

"Have you heard anything about Harry?

"No. Nothing." He said sadly. Remus' eyes narrowed at him suspiciously

again.

Sirius shook his head subtly, to which his werewolf friend nodded slowly.

They would talk after breakfast.

"I wish he would have just written me; I would have been able to talk

him out of this." She said more to herself than to the table at large.

"You would deprive him of contact with the blood relatives he has on his

father's side?" Sirius asked the bushy-haired teenager blandly.

Realizing how loud she had spoken, Hermione cleared her throat with a

tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

"Well, I mean… I wish he had informed us before running off-."

"Which he did," Sirius said simply. "If he hadn't been left in the dark by

the rest of us, I believe he would have reacted differently to the letter."

The bushy-haired girl blushed and guiltily went quiet as did the entire

table.

Remus made a small noise with his throat to cover the silence at the table

and to keep Sirius in check.

"What confuses me is that he has been in the wizarding world for the last

four years, and no one told him a thing about his family. If I didn't know

better, I'd say there was a conspiracy."

The red that crept into Harry's redheaded friend's face as he shoved food

around on his plate and the slight widening of Molly's eyes was all the

answer he needed. He growled mentally, wondering who was in on the

little conspiracy to keep the orphaned Heir Potter ignorant of his rights

and responsibilities.

Merlin, Severus was right. Molly will have a lot to answer for when Harry

returns.

The confusion on Hermione's face convinced Sirius to pull her to the side

soon and bring the rather intelligent girl up to date.

"Are you sure, Sirius?" She began. "Who wou-."

The very early arrival of the morning post owls cut her off her question.

Remus cast a confused glance at his worn watch, giving Sirius an idea for

a good Christmas present.

Remembering his aunt's hints about the morning edition, Sirius tried to

play nonchalant as Remus and Arthur took the paper. Harry's two friends

seemed to be deep in whispered conversation.

"Dear Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed. A glance at Remus told Sirius that the

man had gone into one of his patented, shocked reading modes.

"What is it?" Molly asked frightened. Sirius had a brief flashback to the

previous war with Voldemort where Molly had apparently developed a

phobia for the newspaper after her twin brothers and countless other

loved ones were murdered and reported on daily.

Arthur laid the paper down with shaking hands. His mind seemed to

disbelieve what his eyes were seeing.

Sirius leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the huge, flashing headlines.

The Boy Who Lived TWICE: Who Conspired to Destroy House Potter?

The Boy-Who-Lived becomes the Lord-Who-Triumphed: How Lord

Potter's Ascension Changes the Make-up of the Wizengamot

Trial of the Century: How the Ministry Falsely Detained, Accused and

Nearly Convicted an Innocent Lord Potter

Death Eaters in the Ministry: Wizengamot Convicts Death Eaters of

Treason

Sirius Black Found Innocent in Absentia: The Conspiracy and Cover-up

Against Lord Potter's Magical Guardian

Minister Fudge Ousted in Shame: Who will be the next Minister of

Magic?

Sirius was unable to read more as Harry's bushy-haired future wife - at

least in his mind - snatched the paper with a gasp and speed-read the

fairly thick special edition.

It was a shocked Sirius that felt Remus wrap him in a tight manly hug.

"You're free, Padfoot. I'm going to go frame this." Remus said shaking

slightly, excusing himself from the room taking the paper with him.

"Harry is a Lord?" Hermione gasped, not lifting her eyes from the

newspaper.

"Of course he is. His family is pretty old, rich, and have pretty much

everything." The redhead grumbled. Sirius bit his tongue.

"Except their lives, Ron! And you know Harry would rather have a family

over riches any day!"

"Well, now he has both!" The redhead snarled back, and Sirius winced as

he had a flashback to Wormtail and his jealousy of Sirius and James.

Something else to talk to Harry about. Molly quickly shushed her son as

Arthur read a passage out loud.

"Albus! Thank goodness you're here! What on Earth is this about? Where

is Harry? How-."

Sirius turned slightly at Molly's exclamation to see the tired looking,

silver-haired Headmaster entering the kitchen. He sat at the opposite side

of the table. As far away from me as possible, Sirius noted with some

satisfaction.

"Would it be too much to ask for a cup of tea, Molly? The strongest you

have." He had the tone of a downtrodden man.

"Albus. What in Merlin's name happened at the trial?" Arthur asked

gesturing to the paper that his sons and daughter were pouring over.

Molly sat a large, steaming cup of black tea in front of the Headmaster

before a crash from upstairs caused her to excuse herself from the room.

Sirius anxiously awaited her response to Kreacher's retrieval of the

Tiaras.

"Young Harry and his Family solicitor brought the current administration

to their knees. The repercussions of his actions will be hard to counter.

I've summoned the rest of the Order. There is much to be discussed."

"Indeed, Headmaster Dumbledore." Sirius heard his own neck crack as he

turned to the door.

Harry stood, looking all the bit a young Lord and a bit older than his 15

years. He wore casual, tailored and expensive looking robes that

accentuated his body. The unhealthy skin toned, scrawny, malnourished

and underdeveloped boy Sirius had met a year ago was replaced by a

lean, handsome young man of medium height with a healthy glow.

Sirius had never been known for beating only one side of the bludger.

And despite the fact he was looking at his own godson, Sirius felt a,

definitely forbidden, sexual heat spread through him.

"HARRY!" His muggleborn friend yelled catapulting through the mass of

redheads into Harry's arms.

"Mione. We saw each other just weeks ago." Harry said with a charming

and warm smile. Sirius noted mentally that the two were about the same

height. Now to have Kreacher clean the broom closet on the third floor. No,

the one on the first floor is better, more room for other positions.

The bushy-haired teenager suddenly burst out into tears and began

hitting his godson furiously with the newspaper in her hands.

"How dare you leave me worried? I thought you were kidnapped or d-

dead! Then I read that you actually died yesterday, and are a Lord, and

are on the Wizengamot and that you were under Veritaserum, and-."

"Maybe," Sirius interrupted, "It would be better if Harry explained what

happened before you beat him to death with the Prophet."

"It certainly would like to hear how you managed to accomplish all that

you did last night, my boy. As well as gain entry to this house."

Dumbledore said with heavy suspicion from across the table. His wand

steady in his hand.

Harry pulled Hermione protectively to his side and out of the way as he

faced the Headmaster's legendary wand fearlessly.

"'Even Death shan't part an Heir from his Lord', as you know,

Headmaster," Harry said simply, quoting the Potter version of Olde Form.

Most Noble and Ancient Houses had versions of the same sayings that

told the stories of their Magical prowess or general limitations of magic.

Sirius instantly recalled the Blacks' version, 'Nought but cold, brutal death

could keep a Lord from his Heir'. So cheery and uplifting.

Dumbledore paled suddenly.

"Ah, you've noticed finally that your precious Headquarters is comprised?

History has shown that the Fidelius Charm is not infallible." He chided

gravely referring to either his parents or other incidents. "You should be

grateful that Bellatrix Lestrange is currently locked away, and Draco is

too inept, otherwise you'd be having your morning tea with old Voldy

right now."

Sirius turned to Dumbledore, still furious at the old man for the oversight

even though he already considered the loophole. "I thought you said the

Fidelius Charm confused Family Magik!"

Other members of the Order had begun arriving. Some stared at Harry as

though he were Merlin incarnate, many clutching a special edition of the

Prophet in their hands. If the atmosphere in the room were not as tense,

they probably would have sprung on him with questions.

"Eh, why do you have your wand pointed at Harry, Albus?" Remus said,

re-entering the room and greeting Harry with a warm hug.

Dumbledore quickly stowed his wand in embarrassment. "Apparently, my

research overlooked this point, Sirius."

Harry snorted. "You've been overlooking a lot these past few years."

He met the disgruntled and angry babble of the Order members in the

rapidly filling room with a calm look of disdain.

"Show some respect!"

"How dare you speak to the Headmaster like that, young man!" Molly

yelled reentering the room.

Sirius leaned back in his chair as Harry whispered to his bushy-haired

friend - future wife. She looked at him in shock, went red in the face, and

beamed at him before removing herself from his embrace. She went back

to speed-reading the article while remaining near him.

Sirius and Remus shared a knowing smile as they remembered James

doing something similar to appease Lily countless times.

"Mrs. Weasley, I dare speak to this man in whatever manner I wish, since

he has taken it upon himself to ruin any chance I had at a normal life. He

disregarded my parent's Will, kidnapped and imprisoned me with abusive

relatives, attempted to mold me into a perfect, dumb weapon, and kept

me hidden from caring family. To me, he is nothing but a conniving old

man who abuses his countless positions."

"I did what I could to protect you," Dumbledore said sagely. Sirius noted

a bit of magic in the air.

"You did what best fit your master plans, sir." Harry waved a hand

dispassionately. "It's no matter anymore. My family has taken care of

everything."

Harry returned to Molly with a withering and wintry look. "The marriage

contract between Ginny and I has been nullified since Dumbledore had

no right in creating it." Molly paled and slumped in her seat as many at

the table looked at her in shock. "I assume this was the reason for your

charity these past few years?" Molly winced, and Ginny seemed to

disappear behind her hands in shock.

Sirius looked at Remus in shock. Arthur looked more than a bit confused

and angry.

Before she could speak, Harry moved on. "My solicitors will be contacting

you, Mr. Weasley, about this over the next few days. Hopefully, you will

have time to get to the bottom of this." The balding man nodded slowly

in shock.

"Anything else to destroy our family, Lord Potter?" Ron spat.

Harry gave him a wounded look. "Yes. You will return all money

provided by the Headmaster from my trust vault for your devoted

friendship."

A pin drop could be heard. The redhead and his father were both struck

speechless and seemed more confused by the allegation than furious.

Sirius had his grandfather's wand pointed at the red-headed family before

anyone could respond. "Arthur, I think it's best if your family went back

to the Burrow for a few days. I do not believe I will be able to be a good

host under current conditions."

With a snap, Kreacher appeared next to his master, causing a few

eyebrows to raise at his new appearance and demeanor. "Master,

Kreacher has found all of the stolen Family treasures. The Tiaras are now

in the vault."

Molly exploded and lunged at Sirius. "THOSE BELONG TO THE

PREWITTS! YOU NO GOOD CRIMINAL!"

Arthur and his eldest son jumped as Sirius silenced and petrified his wife.

"I will escort you to the Floo, Arthur, and explain the thievery of your

wife in the meantime." Sirius looked every bit the Lord of his House and

brooked no argument. "Kreacher, please bring their possessions."

"Sirius, this is not the time for petty power plays. Voldemort will not take

the news of Harry's exploits at the Ministry well. He might push his plans

forward to gain access to the Ministry-." Dumbledore stopped abruptly as

if just noticing that there were non-members in the room.

Harry gave a small laugh. "The master manipulator at his best. Carry on,

Sirius. Dumbledore merely wants to ensnare me by offering bits of

information to grab my interest and forcing me into his hand for the

answers." Sirius glared at the now expression-less Headmaster.

He nodded to Harry and escorted the Weasleys out with Arthur floating

his furious wife in front of him.

"I'll bite." Harry took Sirius' seat, which was his right as Heir when the

Lord Apparent was not present, "What is so important to Voldemort in

the Ministry?"

There was a bit of nervous shifting. This was not Harry the gullible

teenager. This was the Potter who had shown the world that he could

topple a government in a day if he so desired.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, this information is only for those of age and in this

Order," Dumbledore said sorrowfully yet with a cold tinge that most

didn't seem to notice.

Harry, looking much like Sirius before him, leaned back amused. "By not

addressing me either as Lord Potter or Heir Black shows that you do not

believe I'm worthy of such titles. By mentioning that I'm not of age, you

are warning the members of your group here that I'm just a child not able

to handle information, and that they should not reveal anything to me…

What are you hiding, Headmaster?" A few people had to hide their smiles

at the looks that briefly flitted over Dumbledore's face.

Harry gave the man three slow claps, "Bravo, sir. You have proven to me

that you do not take me seriously and -."

"Take you seriously, ha! You are but a boy playing adult. Why don't you

go upstairs and play with your toys?" One of the female members said

cutting him off with oozing condescension.

Dumbledore fingered his wand as dark and heavy magic threw Emmeline

Vance across the room.

"I am Lord Henry James Potter, the Potter, and Heir Black by the honor

of my Family's Magik. You dare interrupt me in my house." The fury in

his cold green eyes bespoke his Black heritage. "Being wary of your

tongue or lose it."

"Harry, what has happened to you? Attacking people, condemning

innocents to death and turning your back on your friends… Tom's hold

on you is strong." Dumbledore's wand was pointed back at Harry.

Harry gave a small snort. "Your self-righteousness is rather annoying, sir.

Please put Gellert's wand away before you accidentally poke someone

with it."

Despite his decades strong Occlumency, Dumbledore lost control of his

wand, and it dropped to the table. Several members began whispering

amongst themselves, edging away from the wand.

"How- Who-?" Dumbledore murmured, pale.

The tension in the room released, and Harry gave a deep belly laugh.

"Maybe if you stopped being an old ass, I would tell you."

"MR. POTTER!" Harry rolled his eyes but acknowledged that he had

crossed a line and gave a placating gesture to his fuming transfiguration

professor.

"Now, back to Voldemort and the Ministry…" Once again no one spoke.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, tell the lad," Moody growled. "Maybe he has better

ideas than lurking in corridors."

"I agree," Remus said. A few other murmured in agreement before

Dumbledore silenced most with a hand.

He sighed in deep disappointment and took off his glasses and if he were

weary of the world.

"This information is confidential. It could mean the difference between a

Voldemort-ruled world and his demise."

Harry smiled encouragingly despite the theatrics. "A brief synopsis would

suffice."

It was obvious in the pause that followed that Dumbledore was mentally

preparing a synopsis with the least amount of information in it.

"Bloody hell, Albus, just spit it out! I would like to eat my breakfast

soon!" Snape said.

"Harry, a prophecy was made about you and Voldemort. The Ministry

holds a copy of it, and we think he will try to retrieve it soon." Sirius said

from the door-frame.

"SIRIUS BLACK!" Dumbledore yelled furiously.

A normal man would have crumbled under Dumbledore's fury. Sirius

merely shrugged.

While the "adults" yelled at Sirius, at Dumbledore and at one another - for

some reason - Sirius watched the black-haired teen pull out a leather

pouch from his robes pocket and toss it on the table nonchalantly.

"Why didn't you just say so? There is your precious prophecy." He said,

his voice cutting through the noise. "... 'The one with the power to vanquish'

and all that jazz. It wasn't much trouble to retrieve. Whoever was

monitoring it yesterday didn't do a good job…"

Dumbledore emptied the pouch with shaking hands, and the bits of

broken glass fell onto the table.

The silence was broken by Moody's guffaw and Sirius' booming laugh.

"Why didn't you retrieve it, sir? Your name was also on the prophecy."

Harry asked, curious.

Dumbledore looked at the glass shards and then at Harry. Slowly, a

brilliant smile spread on his aged face. He realized that he had been had.

"I was worried that Tom would use the mental connection in your scar to

get you to do it. I wanted to lure him into revealing himself to the

Ministry, and hoped to protect you from harm, Lord Potter."

Harry nodded, appreciative of the honest answer and the use of his

proper title.

"We, that is to say, my Australian cousins and I, assumed as much."

Dumbledore's smile grew, and he leaned forward. "This shouldn't be

necessary now since you've alerted the Wizengamot to his return, without

him knowing that they know." The man's blue eyes seemed to glow as he

finally grasped the depth of Harry's strategic maneuvering. "You've also

removed any chance Tom has of gaining a footing in the Ministry by

removing his supporters."

Harry merely smiled. "My family did most of the work."

Sirius had never been so proud of his godson. Harry could have gloated

or raged at Dumbledore for being a manipulative old goat, but he merely

asked for breakfast which Kreacher happily provided for the table.

As breakfast was being served, Harry answered, directly or evasively,

questions about his summer. His friend must have smelled the

interrogation because she came out of her reading stupor just as it began

to get answers to some of her questions.

Harry confessed to Potter Magik being the cause of his physical changes.

Sirius assumed Time Travel. He remembered Prongs Sr. mentioning how

one ancestor had tampered with time and somehow merged Time Magic

into the Potter Line, at the cost of his own life. Harry's girlfriend asked

about the funeral service of his relatives. Harry pulled out a planner - a

gift from the girl, judging by the sparkling of her eyes - and made a note

to himself.

He asked how his owl was. Hermione mentioned she had been using

Hedwig to mail her parents more frequently. Sirius was somewhat

confused by the awe on Harry's face at that confession.

"Send Hedwig with a letter to me, please," Harry said remorsefully. "I

think she's been avoiding me since I returned two days ago for leaving

her here when I went to see my family. I will have to get some healing

potions ready for when she punishes me." Those familiar with Hedwig's

attitude shared a small laugh at his expense.

Dumbledore watched the young man with what Sirius believed was

appreciation and something else shining in his eyes. Sirius, who had

taken a seat next to his godson not bothering to take back the head seat,

watched Dumbledore subtly. He was finding it harder and harder to trust

the man he once had never questioned.

Towards the end of the meal, and after a few not so clever comments

about Harry, Vance jumped up from her seat and quickly excused herself

from the room.

Sirius winced as he noticed the blue tinge of her eggs. Kreacher's laxative

pranks were well-known back when he was younger. No one ate at the

Blacks and insulted the Family.

Harry cleared his throat suddenly. "I must return to my Uncle Virgil and

cousins. We are finalizing the last of our plans for Voldemort and his

Munchers, which I have to present to the Ministry in two days." Snape

visibly shuddered across the table though Sirius wasn't sure if it was due

to Harry using snakeface's name, his nickname for the Death Eaters, or

that Harry had more plans in the works. "I hope to be back soon. If it is

OK with you, I shall bring a few people with me."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly yet he made no attempt to hold Harry.

Sirius knew, as did the others, that any previous guardianship over Harry

was rendered null and void by his Lordship. "What do you have

planned?"

Harry's departing smile lit up the room. "We are going to crush the

bastard. Completely and utterly." With his bushy-haired friend on his

arm, Harry swept from the room.

Sirius sipped his tea contently as everyone chatted excitedly. A feeling of

hope had settled in the room. Harry's female friend returned to the room,

her nose buried in a huge tome, though Sirius had not missed her

lingering glance at his godson's arse in the fitted robes as they departed

together moments before.

I definitely didn't look, he thought with conviction.

However, if he hadn't been staring at his godson's arse, he would have

noticed Bill Weasley, the only remaining Weasley in the room, staring at

him in absence of his French girlfriend's allure. He would have also

noticed Remus staring longingly at his cousin Nymphadora or Kreacher

sprinkling the prophecy's glass shards cleaned from the table onto

Emmeline Vance's seat with a small cackle of evil delight.

.

.

Here's a small treat as thanks for the positive response to the story!

.

.

Two men dressed in midnight black appeared out of nowhere before the

Little Whinging Cemetery. The son of the caretaker, Robert Hess, blinked

in surprise, shook his head before putting down his beer.

He followed the two men at a distance. Normally people did not come to

the cemetery during this part of the day.

The two men stopped at the three freshest graves. Hess felt a cold bead of

sweat run down his back. The mysterious death of the Dursleys had been

determined to be caused by a gas pipe leakage. One of their neighbors,

however, swore she had heard awful screams and pleas for mercy.

Many neighbors assumed it had something to do with the delinquent

nephew that Vernon Dursley always ranted about.

Hess, who had only been 19 at that time, decided to go get his father

since he was sure that the men were here to vandalize. He made to turn

when one of the men waved a stick and a bottle of water appeared in his

hands like magic. Hess' blood ran cold.

He had heard stories about the devilish delinquent, and how he managed

to do unnatural things like appearing on top of buildings and changing

people's hair colors.

Hess' assumption was proven accurate as one of the men lowered his

hood. The wicked, wild raven hair and unnaturally green eyes were not

to be overlooked. No one truly believed those stories since magic

obviously did not exist.

The young man poured the bottle of water over the three graves and said

with a small sigh, "I always keep my promises."*

The two men then disappeared with a small crack. Hess promptly fainted

and was revived by his angry father.

Fifteen years and much counseling later, Hess sang a small canticle as he

finished preparing a grave for an elderly woman who passed and met her

Lord the day before when he noticed a weirdly dressed family of four

stop before the Dursley graves. The teenager in the group was toying

with a glowing, clear ball and ignoring his surroundings.

"Papa, why do we have to come here every year?"

The man, whose eyes and hair had not changed a bit over the years,

smiled down at the child holding his hand. "Papa made a promise."

The bonny looking woman, Hess assumed was the formerly little Devil's

wife, waved a stick and a bottle of water appeared out of nowhere. This

small wonder did not seem to surprise anyone in the small family.

Hess felt as if the Earth shook beneath his feet. So many therapists had

told him he had dreamed up the weird ritual in the graveyard all those

years ago, linking the dream to excessive alcoholism, working in the

graveyard at too young an age and to the premature death of his mother.

He gave up drinking, took up carpentry and then married a beautiful

Londoner a year ago.

Today, his father managed to hurt his hip so Robert was shoveling in his

stead.

The wild-haired man poured the contents of the bottle onto the three

graves before the bottle disappeared into thin air. He looked around the

graveyard before he spotted Hess. With a short wave to the pale

caretaker, the green-eyed man disappeared with a small pop, taking his

family with him.

After a few minutes alone, Hess threw down his shovel. "Fuck this shite!"

He needed his first beer in many years.

.

.

AN: To answer a few questions:

How did Harry get so "lordy"? No, this did not happen overnight. Nor

is he being lordy for lordy's sake. It might seem like a chapter is missing

between 4 and 5, because it is. This chapter, however, was too detailed

and boring. I decided to break it down and introduce the reader to the

"Transformation" of Harry over next few chapters, so by Chapter 12 -

where shit gets real - you have the information you need to properly

process "The Betrayal" :P small teaser there.

Super powerful, indestructible, unflappable, god-like, etc. Harry?

Nope, been there, done that: i.e. in my story In the Midst of it All. Even

there, I tried to make Harry a tragic hero from Greek Mythology and

nearly failed as I got to the sequel. It's rather overdone and few manage

to keep it tolerable when they do this... In this story, Harry will get hurt,

will be human(e), will be a fighter who learns from his mistakes and gets

a lot of help from his family.

Potter History and Traditions: I realized when trying to finish another

story that JKR never really allowed Harry to research or find his family.

And this background was missing in my own stories. I spent three months

envisioning the Potter History: love, betrayal, hurt, duty, jobs, marriages,

deaths, etc. At the end of this story - in, oh, twelve chapters - I will issue

a challenge to fellow authors to use my rather thorough history of the

Potter Family and have fun with it. I have two stories on the back-burner:

one where Harry is taken in early on by the French side of his family -

because one is a seer and saw a horrible, possible future for Harry (which

is my other story One with Magic) - and one where Henriette is sent to

Hogwarts.

* Harry made a promise to the Dursleys in chapter two.

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

8. Chapter 8: Reoccurring Potter

History

.

.

Chapter Eight: Reoccuring Potter History

.

.

It took Harry some days to find the time to get back to Grimmauld Place.

Between meetings at Gringotts with the Goblins, brain-numbing

discussions with solicitors and secret sessions of the Wizengamot, he

found himself very put out and exhausted by the time he received

Dumbledore's plea for an update on the fight against Voldemort.

He sent a message to Dumbledore that he would be there at 7 pm, though

he knew he could be using the time more wisely.

He wanted to leave the old man in the dark since Dumbledore had done

so to him for years, yet his Uncle Virgil gently persuaded him to see

reason and use for the old man. Their research into horcruxes had hit the

proverbial wall. His cousin Franklin Cecil, also known as FC, was the

Australian version of an Unspeakable and Head of the Australian Magical

Research department and was leading the search.

FC and his brother, Law Wizard and Professor Milton Arnold, exhausted

themselves in digging up all they could on horcruxes. After Uncle Virgil

had shown Harry how to open and key people into the wards of the

ridiculously luxurious Potter Manor and other properties, Harry set up a

war room in the Lord's Study on the fifth floor of the manor, and his

cousins expanded their research in the Potter Library. Those two were

worse than Hermione doing exams and physically threw Harry from the

room more than once.

Harry looked at the pocket watch that he retrieved from the Lord's Study.

It read 6:57 pm on one side, and on the other:

Charles James Potter

Harry sighed and made his way robotically to the Floo. He quickly

downed a Pepper-Up Potion, his third today. He nodded in passing to his

cousin Andrew Edgar Jr. and Andrew's gorgeous fiancée Maeve de la

Cruz, a Veela of Spanish origin. They were freshly engaged and looking

to host their wedding at the Manor in the summer.

Harry made a mental note to talk to his cousin Henriette about sending

out the marriage notices. Henriette decided to take it upon herself to plan

the Potter Family Yuletide gathering for all Potters worldwide. Harry may

have tricked her into it, but it was her fault for betting against him and

his broom in their last race under the time bubble.

When Uncle Virgil strongly encouraged him to declare the Fireside Chat

magically, Harry thought it would only be an evening of talking and

discussing the future. He definitely wasn't prepared to have his magic

sucked out of him for a time bubble. He laid unconscious under magical

exhaustion for three bubble days before the actual Fireside Chat began.

The two actual weeks, just over two magicked years, spent in the bubble

were the best and hardest two years of his life, filled with Potter History,

Potter Magik, re-education to Potter Standards, and so much more.

He threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, followed the 'call'

using the Black Family Magik to Sirius and stepped through to

Grimmauld Place.

He expanded his magical senses upon arrival - a wandless beacon spell -

and noted that everyone was in the sitting room on the first floor. He

made his way up the stairs and nearly fell on his face as he sensed an

evil, familiar presence in the broom closet, which served as the house

elf's quarters.

Dark magic was to be expected in the Black Family House. Deciding to

mull over the familiarity of the evil presence later, Harry righted himself

and continued up the stairs.

He remembered then that he had wanted to bring his uncle and cousins

with him. Uncle Virgil was back at the Potter Country Home in

Melbourne, recovering from the two weeks - two years - under the time

bubble and the subsequent week he spent in England. Time Magik at his

age is definitely detrimental to one's health. Most of his Australian cousins

went home as well, back to work and those who were able to sacrifice a

bit of their summer were assessing the English properties, buying house

elves and managing minor aspects of the Estate. He allowed his cousins

Orville Jonas and Jonas Gascon Potter to look over the Potter Holdings,

funds and the financial part of the Estate with the Goblins.

Orville was a mathematician and Master Arithmancer and the snobby

Jonas seemed to be heading in the investments direction. The two of

them impressed Harry and the Goblins so much with their assessments

and portfolio suggestions that Harry decided to give them more

authority. Harry merely reserved the right to receive regular reports and

the final say/signature. His delegation of the investments in both magical

and non-mag worlds to Jonas was met with some skepticism from other

cousins due to the blonde's age, but if the blond managed it, he would

make himself and the Family a lot of gold.

Plus, he stopped sneering at me every day.

When he opened the door to, what he assumed to be, the Family sitting

room, Harry felt a wave of welcoming magic wash over him. The Black

Family Magik reached out to greet him like a long-lost family member. I

wonder if Sirius feels something similar.

He knew how Sirius felt about his family. Maybe the magic repulsed him

or harmed him spitefully. Family Magik could be tricky, as he had

learned.

"Lord Potter! Right on time." Dumbledore greeted so cheerfully that the

hair on the back of Harry's neck rose.

"Alone, I see," Sirius said wrapping him in a slightly uncomfortable hug.

Harry felt a tinge of something as the hug lingered a moment or two too

long. Sirius' gaze at their reunion days before had not escaped his notice.

He made a mental note to find the old dog something to hump before he

started leaving viscid stains everywhere.

"My uncle is feeling under the weather and my cousins are taking care of

Family Business." No more explanation was given or needed.

It was not socially acceptable or safe to ask or offer details on Family

Business, as Harry learned from Uncle Virgil. Duels to the death had been

fought even between Potter family members for revealing too much

information. Because someone revealed where the Family was staying,

leading to the Conflagration of 1883, Uncle Virgil's father and uncle had

battled for hours until his father dealt the fatal blow to Henry Potter. It

was revealed later on through Henry Potter's hidden journals that

Hardwin Potter had falsely and purposely accused his older brother of

starting the fire that killed most of the Potters, in order to gain the

Lordship. It was nowadays an open secret that Hardwin Potter instigated

the fire that destroyed all but three members of the Potter Family, due to

his aspirations for rejuvenating the Potter Family.

I wonder what Hardwin's portrait would say to that. His stern-looking

ancestor's portrait never said anything to anyone about that part of Potter

Family history.

So immersed was he in the dark side of his family history that Harry

completely missed a question Dumbledore posed three times.

"Apologies. I was elsewhere."

He excused himself and took a seat near Remus on a rather worn out

couch.

Dumbledore repeated his questions with the patience of a man with

decades of experience in dealing with unfocused teens.

"You mentioned a plan to get rid of Tom?"

Harry nodded. His back straightened automatically. He had practically

internalized the rhetoric and the public speaking strategies of his

grandfather from Pensieve memories. He looked at each person

confidently and briefly in the eye to create a layer of trust. He pulled out

his wand, conjured a simple one-meter by one-meter sheet of paper,

stood up and started.

Three words were magicked onto the page: Financial, Political, Magical.

"We had planned with one of the Death Munchers on the Wizengamot

attacking me to keep their name from being revealed. Those members

present were, according to the Karkaroff Trial, snakeface's main

financiers. They opened their pretty much inexhaustible coffers to their

master for recruitment, research material, mercenaries, gifts and offerings

to gain the allegiance of Dark Creatures and necessities like rare potion

ingredients, portkeys, and loans with laughable interest rates for

financially troubled families if they declared themselves to snakeface."

Harry wrote the name of the main financiers under the headline: Nott,

Malfoy, Black, Selwyn and Avery.

Sirius shifted in his seat at the sight of his family's name.

"My discussions with the Goblins didn't reveal much. So, without

bankrupting the Potter coffers, I provided them with a list of known

Death Munchers - the richest of them - and asked them to merely nod if

the Families had ever 'donated' to the Slytherin vault." Harry paused as

some members began to murmur. He waited patiently until they were

done while admonishing himself for losing his flow and jumping topics.

"A step back if you will. The Slytherin Vault was inactive until the 1940's

around the time snakeface began gathering followers. The link between

the two is irrefutable-."

"Why does that matter?" A slightly youngish member asked.

Snape snorted and answered for Harry. "The Founders Vaults are

considered the foundation and official gold reserves of Gringotts and -

dare I say - our entire, gold specie based economy. Should one be

emptied, it would mean inflation, a steeper exchange rate, higher

prices…"

Harry picked up the conversation from that ominous point. "Leading to

revolt, emigration and most likely the first Goblin revolt of this century.

There are however other factors in play and some safeguards in place. I

will come back to the Slytherin Vault in a moment."

He wrote 'Slytherin Vault' underneath the names of the Death Eaters.

"Information on donations is public record. Each of the Death Eaters or

their families listed here have contributed nearly a million galleons to the

cause three or four times over the course of four decades, hidden as

harmless donations 'for the restoration of the Slytherin Legacy'." The

aghast whispers were understandable since the Ministry of Magic's

annual budget amounted to two to three million galleons.

Dumbledore even looked shocked.

"So, if snakeface had wanted, he could have created a rebel government

on these shores without breaking the bank or economy."

"You speak past tense." Dumbledore inquired quickly.

Harry gave a small smile. "My trial threw quite a few things for a loop.

All of the sitting members of the Wizengamot with Death Muncher

affiliations were placed under arrest or convicted of and fined for

treason. Their funds have been frozen and whatever is found to be

contributed to the "treasonous cause" will - by the laws of our forefathers

- be forfeited to the Ministry."

"But donations cannot be retracted." Bill Weasley interjected.

"Which means the money will be taken from their vaults or seized

through their material possessions. This will greatly deplete the coffers of

Voldemort's financiers." Harry stated, annoyed with the interruption.

The redhead continued, visibly annoyed that he had been cut off despite

having done the same to Harry. "That still leaves You Know Who with

millions of galleons - if not more."

"From the Slytherin Vault?" Harry asked slowly, to which some members

of the Order nodded. "The main safeguard of the Founder Vaults requires

that all living direct Heirs be in accordance to remove funds from one or

all of the vaults. Should there be disagreement, the oath-bound Hogwarts

Headmaster acts as mediator or tie-breaker."

Dumbledore's eyes widened as if he were unaware of the rule.

"The Founders Heirs met only once during the Goblin Rebellion of 1249

to re-stabilize the economy, and then only incognito as not to alert the

world of their presence. Voldemort was very aware of this stipulation and

more likely did more fruitful research into the Legacies of the Founders

than any historian before him."

"We are not sure how he came across such accurate knowledge of the

descendants. We are sure though that he meticulously murdered any

actual and suspected direct Heirs between his years in Hogwarts up until

his defeat in 1981. Beginning with his own family members and

Hepzibah Smith, Heir of Hufflepuff, following his Hogwarts graduation.

He carried on until he ended the McKinnons, Heirs of Ravenclaw, and my

father, Heir of Gryffindor."

Surprising the lot of them, Dumbledore gasped loudly, his mind

processing the information at a speed that Harry was truly jealous of.

Harry heard the man whisper, "Neither can live while the other survives."

Harry decided to shut that train of thought down quickly. "When Iolanthe

Peverell married my great-great-grandfather in 1883, she not only

brought the land her family owned in Godric's Hollow, but also the

secondary Heirship of Godric Gryffindor. This passed to my father after

snakeface killed the last of the Whitewaters, although neither he nor

Voldemort knew."

"And how do you know?" Professor McGonagall asked slowly.

Harry sent out his magic and called the Sword of Gryffindor to his hand

where it appeared a moment later. "This was a dead giveaway." He said

setting the heavy, glittering sword down careful on a nearby spindle table

and ignoring the gasps and forward shuffling to get a closer look at the

legendary sword. "Headmaster Dumbledore once told me only a true

Gryffindor could summon the sword from its hiding place. And he was, of

course, correct." He sent a pulse of magic at the sword, and it went back

to its display case or to the Sorting Hat. He didn't want his audience

distracted by the sword. Merlin forbid someone touches the Basilisk venom-

infused blade!

"So, You-Know-Who put all of his eggs in one inaccessible basket?" Harry

nodded at Remus' succinct summarization.

"He also missed a few Legacy Lines like the Potters and Longbottoms for

Gryffindor, the Jones for Hufflepuff, and the remaining Heirs of Helena

Ravenclaw - who have decided to remain incognito."

Harry drew a large red line through all of the points under Financial.

"And we will know once Tom is aware of his mistake since he will most

likely attack the first individuals in reach: the Goblins."

The old man turned swiftly and looked pointedly at Bill Weasley. "We

should reach out to them soon and present some of this information to

them."

Harry coughed politely into his hand. "The Goblins are already aware. My

cousins presented this to their British leader a few days back."

Dumbledore's beard twitched, and he leaned back in his chair as if to say

'well done, carry on'. His apparent acceptance of Harry's new position in

the magical world, especially in the Order, made it easier for the elder

Order members to accept and digest this information from him.

After a beat, Harry continued, "Snakeface's main financiers are also his

political bastion. Revealing and getting rid of them reduced his political

power. This, coupled with a small exposé in the Daily Prophet on his

non-magical background, would crumble and destroy his pureblood

rapport."

There were more than a few baffled looks in Dumbledore's direction.

"Ingenious! I never considered such a course."

Of course not, Harry thought with an internal eye roll. His smile tightened

slightly as he considered all that the old man could have prevented if he

has not played his cards so close, but he doubted any of the others

noticed. He gave Dumbledore a small nod and continued.

He drew a small red line through Political. "Snakeface gathered or planted

a number of followers - blackmailed, willing and imperiused "sleepers" -

in various positions at the Ministry, St. Mungos and in the Board of

Governors. Had he successfully killed me in 1981, his infiltration of the

Britain would have seen the country fall into his hands within one to five

years."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Yes, Tom took inspiration from muggle subterfuge warfare. He carried

out targeted attacks while simultaneously spreading his influence." Some

of the newer members seemed shocked at how close they had come to a

Voldemort-ruled world.

"Luckily, my discussions within various Wizengamot meetings since my...

trial have been successful. Voldemort cannot control people in any of

these institutions if wards were added to alert the DMLE of the presence

of an individual with the Dark Mark, in Animagus form, under the

Polyjuice potion, a glamor charm or under any mind-control spell or

potion in various buildings and business centres."

Dumbledore blushed slightly. Hogwarts had such wards. At one of the

Wizengamot sessions, he had been essentially raked over the coals for not

having noticed Pettigrew or other Animagi on Hogwarts grounds and for

failing to notice Barty Crouch Jr. polyjuiced infiltration.

Though Dumbledore had gotten away with a warning slap on the wrist,

many - in smaller subsequent sessions - declared him to be too old and

spread thin to hold the weight of such wards.

Others, Harry including, believed that Dumbledore had changed the ward

structure to best fit his goals, especially in regard to Harry, or

continuously ignored the alerts of the wards over the years. Harry

planned with Chief Witch Madame Marchbanks, Head of the DMLE

Madame Bones and Interim Minister Augusta Longbottom to have the

school wards assessed at a time when Voldemort was not looming in the

shadows.

"The wards, that are being constructed, would incapacitate by stunning

and alerting the DMLE," Harry said with a brief glance at Snape.

"That is what we tried to push in the 70s, but You-Know-Who had

already infiltrated," Moody growled out. "We lost many good people

senselessly then."

"What of Gringotts?" Bill asked suddenly. "They have such ward

mechanisms already. Maybe they would be willing to re-ward some

areas."

Harry winced slightly. "As simple as it sounds, delegating the task to the

Goblins is not wise." He looked guiltily towards a rapidly writing

Hermione, whose presence at the meeting Dumbledore had used to assure

Harry's attendance and compliance.

"Goblins are ambivalent to wizard affairs by nature. If, and only if,

Voldemort were to attack them and succeed, would they declare war on

wizards." He raised a hand to halt the questions for those who caught his

hidden message. "Yes, they could then declare war on all British Wizards,

although they assured us they wouldn't. I, personally, take this with a

grain of salt. They simply are not trustworthy."

Dumbledore interrupted, suddenly disappointed with Harry. "Goblins

have been our allies for nearly two centuries. I would never have

expected you to adopt such a… pure-blooded stance on them."

"Harry! How could you say something like that!" Hermione gasped along

with a few others. Other members seemed to silently agree with his

observation.

Harry let the rest of the admonishing wash over him and cleared his

throat impatiently.

"It is not within Goblin nature to have stagnation or long periods of

peace. Just five ago, the Goblin King in Britain was assassinated by one of

his rivals, who then replaced him, for the security breach in a high-

security vault." Harry's eyes lingered on a slightly abated but generally

unimpressed Dumbledore, whose game with the Philosopher's Stone led

to the bloody putsch.

"It is not acceptable in Goblin culture to have peace at the cost of change,

improvement and - more importantly - gold and profit. I made the

mistake of mentioning the idea to have Goblin wards installed

everywhere near the painting of one of my ancestors who had been a

teenager during the last two successive Goblin rebellions in 1752 and

1760. Linfred Potter was furious that I would even consider giving

Goblins access to our most important buildings. He taught and reminded

me that even when a peace treaty has been signed, and although the

wizarding governments tended to adhere to the treaties, a new Goblin

could declare himself King and not face any consequences for breaking

oath for the betterment of his Kingdom. For example Urg the Unclean in

1760."

He paused to catch his breath. "That being said, the Unspeakables are

researching and developing multiple ward schemes as we speak… We

will ultimately restrict snakeface's ability to mobilize his followers."

Which are already being installed, he added silently.

"What of the Dementors, Giants, and werewolves?" Sirius asked softly.

"Will the wards restrict access to them since they supported Voldemort

last time?"

Remus looked paled at the question. Harry bit his lip. "The wards are for

wizards only."

"That's outrageous!"

"We can't have then added to the wards?"

"They are just as dangerous!"

"Adding werewolves to the wards would inhibit the movement of

innocent people, and that is against the law," Harry said tightly. "The

wards would also inhibit innocent people with a half-giant heritage like

Hagrid."

The stunned silence was rather funny to Harry. So eager and lazy to give

an entire race of greedy, unpredictable warriors access to the hospital,

government and business centres, yet unyielding in their age-old racism

towards law-abiding citizens and semi-sentient beings.

"And since Dementors are an essential part of our criminal justice system,

banning them could hinder the DMLE in apprehending serious criminals."

Sirius burst out into laughter. "Serious criminals! Good one, pup!" It took

a moment but Harry was soon laughing with his godfather at the pun.

Others soon joined in.

Once everyone calmed down, Harry continued with a less tense audience,

grateful for the comic relief.

"Magically defeating or even hindering Voldemort is more challenging.

We have three methods of attacking him: through his Mark, through the

blood that he took from me and through my scar." He listed Mark, Blood,

and Scar on the board.

Dumbledore shifted slightly as Harry wrote Scar with a pleased look on

his face. He gave Harry an encouraging smile that bordered

condescension. Hook, line and sinker, Harry thought with a rather satisfied

smirk plastered on his face.

"The Dark Mark is the only known direct, magical link to Voldemort. It is,

of course, a tether with which he can call, find, punish and even, we

believe, kill his servants." The rumble of disbelief in the room caused

Harry to pause again.

"We assumed as much, but we never had proof last time," Moody

grumbled.

"With so many Death Eaters now in custody, we have never had the

opportunity to study the Mark in such depth," Harry said with a nod of

acknowledgment to Moody. "One of the reasons why there was no proof

last time was the internal obstruction and the sabotage of the

experiments which were both carried out by Death Eater Unspeakable

Augustus Rookwood."

This was news to Moody. Harry noticed his eyes narrowing at the news

before he motioned for Harry to continue.

"According to his testimony from the lengthy retrial from a few days ago,

Rookwood also confounded many Unspeakables when they began

researching Voldemort's origin. Voldemort's family, for some reason, was

unknown before." He briefly narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore. "The

burial place of his non-magical father and paternal family is known, due

to his recent resurrection. His mother, though a witch of squib caliber,

was nevertheless buried as a muggle. Her burial place is being located.

His maternal grandfather and uncle's corpses have been excavated…"

Noticing the lost looks, Harry continued patiently. "The ritual that

snakeface used to gain a body included the bone of his father, a blood

sacrifice of his willing servant and the blood, given unwillingly, of his

enemy - me. In order to counter that, we need the bones of his maternal

side, an offering from a repentant servant and the blood, willingly given,

by the same enemy." Dumbledore's self-satisfied smile had vanished. Such

a ritual was obviously not known to him.

"The Unspeakables are reaching out, by means of my uncle's connections,

to their counterparts in the Australian and American wizarding

governments for other options and to double-check their calculations."

Harry drew a red line with his wand through Dark Mark and Blood.

He quickly steeled his face to remove any suspicious and revealing facial

expressions, as his Uncle Virgil had taught him before he turned back to

the group.

"My scar is - was shrouded in mystery. It obviously connected me to

Voldemort. Hell, it was better than any beacon spell my first year when it

warned me of snakeface's presence. It was an obvious connection to the

bastard." Dumbledore seemed to hold his breath, his gaze intensely

boring into Harry. "Fortunately, or - depending on who you ask -

unfortunately, Malfoy's curse destroyed the connection according to the

Unspeakables and my uncle."

Harry saw Moody, Dumbledore, and a few others relax in their seats,

most likely for different reasons. Snape and Sirius seemed to tense. Harry

drew a line through Scar.

"This is the official stance of the Ministry, the DMLE, and all those

involved. Together we will bring Voldemort to his knees and present any

chance of another resurrection." Harry said forcing magic into his voice.

Many sat up straighter in their seats. "His reign of terror will soon end

before he can pick up from where he left off."

Dumbledore stood and began clapping. He was quickly joined by the rest

of the Order. Harry bowed his head in amusement but showing only

slight embarrassment.

Dumbledore took over the meeting from there, donning out instructions

to his Order members in order to make sure the Ministry's plan was

carried out.

.

.

.

.

Harry shook a few hands and simply ignored the rest of the meeting.

Inwardly, he was secretly pleased. Despite being unnaturally tired and

overwhelmed by the numerous meetings and discussions, he had

managed to spin a somewhat credible plan of action. He mentally patted

himself on the back for his subterfuge.

It was indeed the official plan of the Ministry. If Dumbledore decided to

fact-check, most likely with the liberal use of illegal Legilimency, he

would find that Harry had offered his Order a more detailed version than

anyone else had.

Harry had, however, left out much. It had been unanimously agreed upon

by him and his family not to throw Dumbledore any bones regarding the

horcruxes or other plans not mentioned to the Ministry. The Headmaster

obviously had his own plans and information that he refused to share

either with Harry or in the selective war sessions he had been invited to.

As the meeting ran out of steam following Snape's reports, Harry quickly

excused himself before Dumbledore could corner him and make him slip

up. He believed the old man had a good heart and golden intentions, but

his horrible methods had destroyed more than one life. Harry knew that

if the man interrogated him, he would most likely reveal and ruin the

plans his family had due to lack of sleep.

So intent was Harry on avoiding Dumbledore that he literally ran into

Sirius.

"Whoa, kiddo!" The thinner man said, steadying Harry with outstretched

hands on at the base of the staircase. "Come here. There's something I

want to show you."

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I'm not at all interested in meeting Little Padfoot," Harry

said seriously but allowed the man to lead him away from the stairs. "I

would happily look into finding you a girl or guy to have fun with."

"Ha ha," Sirius said without humor. Remus, who had apparently been

following them, burst out laughing. "Shut up, Moony!"

"It's not my fault that you look ready to hump your mother's umbrella

stand." The werewolf deadpanned.

Sirius flushed red. With averted eyes, he murmured, "I'm not that

obvious, or desperate!"

"You are too!" Harry and Remus said in unison before looking at one

another and sharing a chuckle at Sirius' expense.

"Well laugh it up! I'd like to see either of you go over a decade without

sex." He growled, sounding every bit the Grim he could turn into at will.

"Not everyone is as sexually… addicted as you, Padfoot." Remus said as

Sirius opened the door to a small sitting room on the ground floor.

Harry suddenly had an inkling of what was going on as he saw Snape,

Bill, and Hermione waiting more or less patiently on him. Sirius' last

letter had informed him of the Order dissenters' opinion of Dumbledore's

methods and leadership. Harry wondered briefly why Hermione was

there, but he assumed that Sirius invited her to make Harry feel more at

ease.

Snape, as soon as Remus closed the door, began casting a number of

spells to prevent any eavesdropping. Hermione looked close to drooling

at the man's spell repertoire and at the number of unknown spells. Harry

saw her internal turmoil, wanting to discuss the spells with Snape but

simultaneously wanting to question Harry.

As soon as Snape finished and nodded to Sirius, it was surprisingly Bill

who broke the silence.

"What are you hiding from us?" Bill asked hotly. "Your little speech was

riveting and all, but there were definitely holes in your story."

Harry sighed. He looked quickly at his grandfather's watch. It was

nearing midnight. I definitely won't get any sleep tonight. Henriette wants to

chat too.

"I wish to get some sleep guys. Can this-."

"No!" All four said in unison.

Harry nodded, understanding how it felt to be left in the dark. And if

Snape is truly a spy as Uncle FC believes, then he needed to make sure the side

his life was depending on will win.

"Where would you like for me to start?" Harry asked seating himself.

Hermione interrupted Bill. "You have changed, Harry. I want to know

how and why." A bit of fear crept into her voice. "Did you use… Dark

Magik?"

Harry turned to Snape. "How secure is this room?"

The man outwardly showed no surprise at the sudden question. "To the

best of my abilities." He snipped. Harry held up a hand in a peace

gesture.

"Ok. Give me a second to think."

He immediately waved his wand and conjured a piece of paper. He used

his wand to write the following message.

Please check our persons and the room for listening, tracking, and other spying

charms.

Snape's eyes widened before he did just that. A lamp in the corner, Sirius'

left shoe, Hermione's hair clip and small items in the room lit up under

his revealing spells.

Harry wrote another message underneath his first.

Sirius. Family Magik to seal the room.

Sirius' eyebrows rose in shock. He obviously hadn't thought of that.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, seal this room against any Family Foreign Magik."

An ocean blue mist spread from his wand and covered the entire room.

The fire in the hearth flashed a similar blue hue signaling the Floo had

shut down before returning its previous fiery red. Each of the items that

Snape's revealing spells had uncovered - and a few that his spell had

missed - were covered in the same blue mist and stayed that way.

Harry nodded.

"Despite the grey nature of my family, I've encountered nothing Dark. We

have to be careful with labeling. The previous Ministry administrations

declare all magic which they can't monitor, use, or tax as 'Dark'."

Hermione looked more than appalled at the politicization of magic. "They

can't do th-."

Bill growled. "Welcome to the real world, girl! Can we continue?"

Hermione flinched. Her concepts of justice and right were being viciously

destroyed.

Harry's wand slid from its holster into his palm.

"I'm not sure what your problem is, but you are more than welcome to

leave if you can't control your brutish ways."

Bill reddened and nodded curtly. The redhead sent a slightly fearful look

at Sirius who was palming his wand and who had spoken out at an

earlier Order meeting about the crimes his mother committed against the

Blacks before he forced the rest of the Weasleys out of Grimmauld Place.

Only Bill and his father were granted provisional admission.

Harry smiled suddenly, sheathing his wand. "There was Time Magik

involved-."

"Oh, Harry! Time Magik is dangerous! What if you changed the future?

What if you saw yourself again? You could have caused a time paradox!"

Snape, though visibly annoyed by her interruption, nodded in agreement.

Harry was suddenly very angry. "I am not here for an interrogation on

the ways and methods of my family." He snarled. "Since there are no

apparent tears in the timeline continuum, we can assume that everything

succeeded as it should have."

Hermione was never one to give up easily. "But Harry! The ramifications

might not even be immediate or -."

Harry interrupted her as softly as he could, though the steel in his voice

made her shiver. "This is not the first or last time Time Magik will be

used in my family. Move on, Hermione. I have asked for neither your

opinion nor your recommendations for events that have already come to

pass."

Hermione's affronted response was cut off by Snape. "Leave it, Miss

Granger! We don't have time for such childish blather."

Hermione's respect for the man and his position as her professor of four

years made her pause and stiffly nod. Her eyes promised Harry a second

round to adequately give him her opinion. He shuddered slightly.

"As I said, there was Time Magik involved. Within this… time bubble, my

family and I reviewed my knowledge of the Wizarding World, my

interactions within it, my knowledge of the Families I head or are

connected to, etc." He decided to skip the spell and political knowledge.

"There was a frightening amount that I didn't know or was not told."

He waved a hand to stall Bill's interruption. "We ultimately came to the

conclusion that Dumbledore and those who blindly follow him did not

want me to know many of these things for multiple reasons. One of those

reasons being the opportunity to utilize my money, political power, or

myself for personal, political or other gains. This became clear, for

example, as I went over our financial matters with my Gringotts account

manager and my great-granduncle, and noticed unauthorized

withdrawals by Mrs. Weasley as well as the unauthorized betrothal

agreement between Dumbledore and Molly Prewitt for mine and Ginny's

future wedding." Bill suddenly looked rather uncomfortable.

"I've come to the conclusion that each interaction I had with the

Wizarding World was carefully thought out and planned. From Hagrid's

introduction to bumping into the Weasleys on my way to Platform 9 and

¾. The question was why." He noticed Snape's eyes flicker to his scar.

Harry merely smiled at him.

"To cut this short: Dumbledore heard a prophecy about a child being

born who could defeat snakeface. In the midst of a bloody civil war, this

was a blessing to him. He didn't directly manipulate anything in fear of

counteracting the prophecy, at least to my knowledge. I do not believe he

knew that Pettigrew was a traitor. I also don't believe he willingly set my

parents up to be murdered. However, I am an optimist, and this could all

change if he were questioned until Veritaserum. Most of my Australian

family believes otherwise."

Harry wiped his tired eyes with his hand. He and his cousins had argued

for days under the time bubble before they agreed to disagree until more

information could be gathered. Harry's gut feeling told him that

Dumbledore had merely let things happen - which in itself was a crime.

One man can only morally do so much with an apparently endless war raging.

"I'm obliged to agree with both perspectives," Remus said. "I was with

Dumbledore when he learned about James and Lily's deaths. He was

physically stricken with grief. He excused himself immediately afterward,

but he appeared genuinely saddened."

"But he was the one to recommend the Fidelius Charm. He most likely

assumed that I was the traitor in the Order and figured that I would lead

to the prophecy being fulfilled. Killing two Kneazles with one spell."

Sirius said very calmly. Harry figured he was using Occlumency to

control his emotions.

"That is also plausible," Harry said. "Regardless, Dumbledore definitely

knew two things following my parents' deaths: Voldemort was not dead,

and I hosted a piece of Voldemort's soul in my scar." Hermione gasped.

While everyone else reacted to the news, Snape looked relieved to know

that Harry knew.

"WHAT? I'll kill the manipulative goat!" Sirius growled, looking ready to

storm from the room. Harry slowly slid his wand out of its holster in case

he had to petrify his godfather.

"Voldemort did as he claimed he would and achieved temporary

immortality. He created several horcruxes - accidentally seven so far."

Snape paled. "So far?" He repeated, shocked.

Hermione, obviously worried by the fearful reactions, asked, "What are

horcruxes?"

"Horcruxes, or soul jars, are items that hold fragments of a soul to anchor

a person to this realm," Bill said in an experienced though shaky tone.

"Egyptians were some of the first to document the process which usually

includes the remorseless death of an innocent." That would explain his

knowledge.

Hermione paled at the information. Harry could see the wheels in her

head turning rapidly. "As you probably know best, Hermione, magic has

boundaries. Most of these can be proven with Arithmancy. Voldemort

pushed, and overstepped, those boundaries as he created his fourth

horcrux. Three is a powerfully magical number. When he came to kill

me, his soul was already damaged by his murdering of multiple innocents

and, of course, those whose deaths he used for his horcrux rituals. If he

had stopped at three before he came to my family's hideout, the runic

magic my mother used to protect me would have merely hurt him. It

would not have destroyed his body. I'm also sure that his magic, now

familiar with the ritual, and his unstable soul would not have mistaken

the death of another innocent - me - as the ritual for yet another horcrux.

I most likely would have died and never had the bit of his soul lodged in

my forehead."

Silence met the end of his explanation. "To return to your question,

Professor. Not knowing of the horcrux in my head, Voldemort created

another, his sixth, horcrux last year… his familiar-."

"Nagini!" Snape said with a look that mirrored Hermione's from a few

moments ago. "Of course… he never wanted a familiar beforehand. He

considered them a weakness…" He trailed off, in his own world.

"He stored his soul in another living creature! No case of a living horcrux

has even been documented." Bill exclaimed in disgust mixed with

scholarly intrigue.

Harry laughed and pointed at himself as evidence. "We thought because

of the unprecedented act that there was also no way to remove it from a

living host. Much like Dumbledore, I believe. Unlike him, we considered

everything from a Dementor's Kiss to exorcism and asked others for

assistance. We then consulted everyone from a magical Native American

tribe to an African witch doctor. They all agreed that the easiest way was

to undergo a cleansing ritual to loosen the control of the parasitic or

dormant foreign soul followed by stopping the heart of the host." He saw

Hermione's arm twitch as if she wanted to raise her hand as she would in

class.

Harry nodded to her. "Please tell me you were not moronic enough to

want someone to cast a Killing Curse at you!"

Harry gave her unknowingly a breath-hitching lopsided grin. He knew

she would ask that. "Every single thing that happened at that trial was

orchestrated. We realized this could be our chance to reverse the

misfortune of our House. We had originally planned to storm the Winter

Session of the Wizengamot, but Fudge pushed our hand. I watched the

pensieve memories of grandfather's on his speeches before the

Wizengamot and was immediately inspired. I spent weeks under the

bubble practicing and mock debating, and I doubt I will ever reach his

level. There was a man who knew how to captivate his audience."

Sirius gave a good-natured laugh. "Charles was a piece of work. He was a

living legend of his time."

"The Potter Dragon." Harry smiled. He remembered seeing a younger

Sirius in his grandfather's memories before and after he ran away from

home. "He was my inspiration. I hope I did him justice at the trial."

"Not to derail your memories of mimicking your grandfather, but can we

get back on track," Bill stated after a polite cough.

"After your earlier performance, it has been even more necessary to know

what plans are in development. If there is a plan with holes, it was that

one." Snape murmured from his corner. "Some of us, I especially, need

the assurance that your family has more in store for the Dark Lord." The

sallow man said candidly. Harry and Hermione both started at his frank

yet pleasant manner of speaking.

Harry summoned a glass of water wandlessly and took a sip, ignoring the

dumbfounded looks at his feat of magic. "All of the plans mentioned will

be used… just not in the ways I explained."

"Financially, snakeface has no chance of withdrawing anything. It is

stipulated in the Hogwarts Charter that if any Heir repels an attack from

another Heir three times, that the innocent Heir receives all rights,

properties, and privileges of the offender." Hermione gasped. The

brilliant mind behind her warm brown eyes already making the

connections.

"Voldemort's not the Heir of Slytherin; you are! Then he couldn't take any

money out of the vault anyway. And he shouldn't be able to remove any

items either. He would have to-." Her eyes flashed. "You are your own

political block in the Wizengamot, Harry! You could change so many of

the corrupt laws..." Her fingers twitched as if eager to prepare the list of

laws Harry should overturn.

Snape cleared his throat. "You also mentioned earlier that you had

researched the Dark Mark.?"

Harry smiled. He figured the man would cut to the chase.

"Indeed, Professor. Nothing escapes your notice." He rubbed his eyes

underneath his glasses. He could feel the Pepper-Up potion wearing off.

"My cousins and the Unspeakables are deciphering the Dark Mark… but

for more violent purposes. If Voldemort can use the Dark Mark for

tracking, maiming, and killing the Death Munchers, so can we. If

snakeface infused the Mark with his own magical signature - which

would make sense, since when Death Eaters are summoned by him, they

can always locate him, we can also find him."

Snape's eyes widened. The possibilities and damages that could be done

to Voldemort would be endless.

"It is truly unfortunate that snakeface doesn't have any house elves. They

are trained from birth to locate their masters based on magical signatures

and summons… It would make the work much easier."

"What are your plans regarding his horcruxes?" Bill interjected, keeping

Harry from wandering again.

"The horcrux in my scar was captured before it could move on," Harry

said frankly, mentally thanking his cousin FC for his forethought and

providing a prepared soul jar that Harry took with him to the trial. It had

sucked in the soul shard for them to study. "The Unspeakables are

currently using this soul shard to locate the others. They should all share

the same magical residue." Harry suddenly remembered the evil presence

he felt on his way up the stairs. "It shouldn't be too difficult to locate the

rest of Voldemort's things." He made a mental note to talk to Sirius before

he went home.

The redhead's flinch at snakeface's name was very visible. "Can You Know

Who create more in the meantime?" Bill asked worried, seizing upon the

train of thought that Snape brought up earlier.

"No, I don't know who," Harry said smartly, beginning to seriously dislike

the redhead. "I believe he might try. I believe the ritual will go very

wrong for him, hurt him even. He might take to locating his other

horcruxes or revisit the anomaly of my scar."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Hermione asked confused. "The

Headmaster might have been able to offer some insight."

"Dumbledore definitely has knowledge that he has seen the need to hold

close. If he had mentioned it at the meeting, I might have offered the

knowledge that we have."

Sirius growled in response.

"There is still an amount of uncertainty within your plan." Snape pointed

out gravely. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the man, but he seemed

much more human and agreeable in the last hour than he had in the

previous four years.

Harry sighed. "I agree, sir." He looked the dour man directly in the eyes.

"Unfortunately, we can only do so much, even as a team of three people

and more than enough consultants. We have hit a wall with our research

on how to destroy the horcruxes."

Remus and Hermione seemed to share a look. "We could research in the

Black library."

Harry sent Remus a grateful smile. "Any help would be useful. A killing

curse would not be useful against a non-living object."

"The Goblins might-." Bill began.

"I've already stated my feelings towards the Goblins and bringing them

into the fold." Harry raised a hand to stop Bill and Hermione from

interrupting. "Part of my distrust also comes from the fact that we bought

this topic up to them. Their response was simply 'it's not our business

what you wizards do with your souls.' before they charged us a hefty fine

for mentioning the illegal item in their presence." Hermione's mouth

dropped open.

"That being said," he turned his attention to the redhead fully, "if you feel

as though your interaction with the Goblins is so favorable that you

would not be penalized, feel free to do your own research. Since

Hogwarts starts up again in a few days, I will be visiting the Chamber of

Secrets to see if there is anything left of the basilisk. Its venom did much

damage to the first horcrux I encountered."

Snape's eyes widened at the prospect a millennium old snake or the

fabled chambers of his house's founder.

"Why not find more basilisk venom?" A pale Sirius asked. "The black

market has to have some."

"Basilisk venom gets more potent with age." Snape lectured smoothly.

"Based on the strength of the magic in the horcruxes, a millennium-old

basilisk's venom, which might be the most potent substance in existence,

should be able to destroy it... I would like to present when you return to

the chamber." He said finally to Harry.

Harry nodded. "I will ask all of you and some of my cousins to join. Many

heads are better than one." A huge yawn escaped from his mouth. "I will

see what can be done at the Ministry to keep Dumbledore from poking

his crooked nose in."

Hermione bit her lip. "Do you think your cousins would mind if I looked

into their research so far? We should make sure we are not all doing the

same work."

Harry gave her a tired smile. "I think they would enjoy that very much!

You and Remus should stop by - you should all stop by tomorrow."

Sirius gave a small, nervous laugh. "Tomorrow won't be good. I have a bit

of Family business to take care of with my great aunt Cassie."

"The one who visited you?" Remus asked cryptically, to which Sirius

nodded.

Harry nodded, getting up from his seat. "Just let me know when so I can

add the rest of you to the wards."

Sirius nodded once more and dispelled the Family Magik in the room.

As they dispersed, Harry pulled Sirius to the side and told him quickly of

his suspicions regarding the evil magic he felt as he walked up the stairs

earlier. It was half an hour later, and after waving off an impatient

Henriette, that his head finally touched his pillow. Content with another

horcrux in his possession, Harry fell into a 12-hour sleep, dreaming of

bushy-haired children with green eyes.

.

.

.

.

While the Lord of the Manor slept, a certain blond cousin of his left the

perimeter of the manor wards, wrapped in a dark traveling cloak, and

traveled by portkey to a manor on the other side of the country.

The promise of the Potter Lordship quenched any hesitation, disgust, and

fear he might have had regarding his actions.

"Welcome, Jonas Gascon Potter." A serpentine voice greeted as he landed

in a pitch black room. "It has been long since a Potter has graced my

presence."

A strange blue spell eloped the blond youth. He gasped and felt as though

thousands of sharp hooks were being pushed through his skin and pulling

him up like a ventriloquized doll.

The pain caused by the spell made him relieve himself, though he didn't

dare to utter a single whimper. His contact had warned him against

showing too much weakness in His presence.

"Tsk tsk, such manners. Even dogs are better house-trained than the

Potters." The voice spat his family name out like a curse. The sound of

laughter around him told Jonas that he was definitely not alone.

"So brave and resilient. Come, young Jonas! We have much to discuss."

The hook spell ended abruptly and Jonas found himself on the cold

ground once more. He worried then that he had maybe been too quick to

reach out to his cousin's enemies.

.

.

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

9. Chapter 9: Another Difficult

Beginning

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Chapter Nine: Another Difficult Beginning

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.

As she stepped onto the train platform, Hermione Jane Granger couldn't

keep her eyes from doing a thorough sweep of the area in search of a boy

- no, man - who recently was the only one on her mind. The reunion of

pupils, the loud chattering of owls and other animals, the eager

discussions of unsorted and scared soon-to-be first years, and other noises

all rolled over her.

She also couldn't help but to observe the apprehensive and darkened

glances of the older students and most of the parents. You-Know-Who's

return had many looking over their shoulders. Even the muggles on the

platform, like her parents, were tense and skittish.

The newly elected Minister of Magic, Madame Augusta Longbottom,

ordered that each family with a magical child be informed of what was

happening in the wizarding world. This was a step that all of her

predecessors had ignored for fear of witch hunts and the Statue of

Secrecy. Hermione vividly remembered the uproar the eight-page

pamphlet regarding You-Know-Who's return and his full history had been

received two days ago.

Just as Harry planned and predicted it would.

Purebloods, as she had heard on the Wizarding Wireless, had been up in

arms regarding You-Know-Who's, or now Tom Riddle's, true blood status.

As Harry also foresaw, many denounced the illegitimate, bastard of the

lowest half-blood pedigree after Gringotts and the Ministry confirmed the

rumors. Hermione was surprised to find that there was the unexpected

result of purebloods no longer fearing retaliation from You-Know-Who or

his Death Eaters because of his blood status.

Apparently, half-bloods and muggleborns are not threatening to purebloods,

she mentally grumbled.

Surprisingly, half-bloods were silent on the matter. Harry suspected that,

since many of them lived in between the muggle and magical worlds,

they didn't usually have the safety of centuries-old manor wards and

Family Magik to protect them and feared attacks like those of the last

Blood War. The newspaper reported that a third of the students with

muggle parents were being sent overseas to the Académie de Magie

Beauxbâtons or to schools in North America. Hermione had only barely

convinced her parents not to move to Australia and send her to the

Whitefriar College of Wizardry in Melbourne. The only thing that saved

her was her upcoming OWL examinations and that she would have to

repeat a year to catch up to the local syllabus.

I might not be so lucky next year. She departed from her nervous parents

and made to store her luggage and Crookshanks' cage in the luggage

cabin.

Her mother had pulled her to the side after the hot-tempered three-hour

discussion about continuing her education at Hogwarts for a bit of girl

chat about the true reason for her wanting to stay at Hogwarts, the

green-eyed, black-haired reason.

Being the constant and only female companion of two boys since their

pre-pubescence, she knew that the chance of her falling for one of them

was rather high. Her constant fights with loyal yet hot-headed Ron had

led her, and her mother, to assume that the two of them were developing

feelings for one another that neither could express properly. Then her

dear, sweet Harry, despite being socially inept, obviously neglected and

impulsive yet mild-mannered, returned from his escapade in Australia.

She felt her stomach twist into none too comfortable knots.

Her mother had intuitively known that something had occurred between

her and one of her friends when Harry disappeared.

Her mother looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "You know, my little queen,

when your father and I saw the spark in your eyes from your professor turning

the coffee table into a pony, we knew then we would have to share you - even

let you go with... your own so that you could explore this other side of you.

That does not mean that we would not be here for you, or that we would leave

you to your own devices in this new world."

"I know, mama." Hermione murmured quickly, a red tinge to her cheeks as her

mother called her by the nickname they had used for her since she was a baby.

Although Hermione was proud to be named after Queen Hermione from

William Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale, she also knew that her naming was

her parents' way of poking fun at her eldest cousin Emily's mother, her

mother's least liked sister, whose namesake had been one of Queen Hermione's

ladies-in-waiting.

"We will always be there for you." Her mother softly took her hand in her

own. "Since you returned this summer, you've looked anxious and jittery - and

not just due to the return of this dark lord character." Her mother took a

small, steadying breath. "I also noticed that your last two letters before you

returned mentioned less of Ron and Harry. Did something happen between the

three of you?"

Hermione felt her cheeks betray her. "No! I mean-." She tugged on her sleeve

in agitation. "I do feel something for Harry, but that has nothing- little - to do

with this summer."

Her mother merely nodded encouragingly and patted her hand once more. "I

saw Harry's owl leave you a letter…"

Fury flashed through Hermione.

Yes, he sent an owl to tell me that he was running away. He didn't even

think I deserved more than two lines after four YEARS of friendship...

And fancying him, her brain automatically answered.

Hermione shook her head viciously to stop that train of thought and gave her

mother a reassuring smile. "There is nothing going on right now… Headmaster

Dumbledore invited me to stay with Harry and Ron's family in a week's time.

If that is OK with you and papa?"

Her mother gave her a - in Hermione's opinion, unnecessary - conspiratorial

smile as she stood up. "I'll talk to your father."

Hermione understood that to mean she had permission to send the Headmaster

a letter confirming her parents' consent, and that the somewhat awkward

conversation with her mother was over.

She realized she had no such luck when her mother turned back to her, hand

on the doorknob. "Hopefully your first kiss with Harry will be more magical

than that sloppy one with Viktor."

Her mother's laughter and her own groan of frustration were the last sounds

she heard before she buried her face in her pillow.

Her mother always knew her, sometimes even better than Hermione

knew herself.

Lost in thoughts about her mother's possible reaction to her new situation

with Harry, Hermione ran directly into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching whe-." Her eyes widened as she

noticed she had run into her redheaded friend. "RON!" She cried,

throwing her arms around the lanky boy.

"H-hey Hermione." He murmured into her hair.

She pulled back as she noticed his arms had wrapped around her waist,

and he was obviously uncomfortable.

I wonder if it's just his hormones.

"Let's grab a cabin near the front! I would like to be somewhat close to

the Prefect's Cabin since I have to go to the meeting. I-." She trailed off as

she noticed his sullen countenance.

"I-I will be sitting with my brothers. We've been forbidden contact with

Black and Har- Potter." The redhead looked down with slumped

shoulders.

Hermione paused to decipher that. I wonder who forbids something like

communication.

"That's silly! Harry would never shut you out because of what your

mother did." Her logical reasoning rang true in her head, but it or

something behind her seemed to make the redhead uncomfortable and

angry.

"Of course I wouldn't!" Hermione whipped around so quickly at the sound

of her other best friend's voice that she nearly tripped over her own feet

as she made to hug him.

The hug was brief and interrupted by a snide voice from behind Harry.

"The klutz is the 'Greatest Witch of the Age'? Obviously, someone

miscalculated."

The raven-haired beauty, who could only be Harry's cousin Henriette,

scrutinized Hermione with open distaste. Henriette had been the only

Potter staying at Potter Manor that Hermione had not had the chance to

meet. According to Harry, Henriette was always busy with errands or

planning the Potter Yule party.

Harry seemed to flush in either embarrassment or anger. "Henriette.

Behave."

Hermione blinked, never having heard Harry use such a heavy and strict

tone with anyone

A familiar stubborn look flickered across the other girl's face. For a

moment, and ignoring the creeping hurt she felt from the girl's insulting

remarks, Hermione had the feeling she was looking at a chastised female-

Harry.

They could really be fraternal twins! She had not truly believed Harry when

he had spoken of the physical similarities to his twin-cousin.

Harry also hadn't mentioned how horribly rude and condescending the

pureblood was.

Hermione was suddenly and subtly pushed to the side and away from

Harry as the girl moved her out of the way to wrap him up in a tight hug

that lasted far longer than Hermione's had.

Should cousins hug that… intimately?

Hermione fumed to the side as Harry returned the hug, whispering things

into his cousin's ear. She noted peripherally that Ron had stolen off

during the conflict caused by Henriette Potter. She made a mental note to

find him on the train and convince him to join their compartment.

Hermione had finally had enough when the black-haired slapper placed a

chaste kiss on Harry's cheek with a gloating look in Hermione's direction

as a parting shot.

Hermione cleared her throat rather loudly. Harry, who had been

apparently in silent communication with his cousin, gave the clock on the

platform a worried glance.

"All right, fluff." Hermione nearly choked at Harry's pet name for his

cousin. "Send my love to everyone, and keep an eye on everything in my

stead, my lovely Lady Regnant Potter!"

The two black-haired cousins shared a laugh at some inside joke before

the female Harry gave a heavy sigh and fixed his robes in a very wife-like

manner. Hermione felt some primeval part of her growling possessively

in the back of her mind.

"I wish I could join you. Someone has to keep an eye on you with all of

the trouble that you find yourself in." She threw a rather vicious look at

Hermione. That was Hermione's breaking point.

"That's it!" She jabbed a finger in the girl's direction, only to be held back.

Arms circled around her midriff, conveniently covering her wand as well,

and turned her forcibly, yet gently around. She found herself suddenly

looking up at a rather well-developed Neville Longbottom. He silenced

her with a look, surprising all of the student spectators who had at some

point drifted closer to the altercation.

"Lord Potter, Lady... Regnant," Neville greeted respectfully with a deep

bow. Harry and Henriette returned the gesture immediately and in sync

with a deep bow and curtsy.

"Heir Longbottom," they intoned.

"How lovely! Eduarda, did you see that! It's is so wonderful to see

youngsters continuing such respectful traditions." Two rather ancient-

looking witches, who looked like relatives of the Hufflepuff in Hermione's

Runes class - Hannah Abbot is her name, I think - had seen the bowing and

curtsying as they passed. They both greeted the young Lords and Lady

with immaculate curtsies before carrying on.

"Come along, Hermione. Let's find a cabin and head to the Prefects'

Meeting." Neville said pulling the bewildered girl into the train.

She cast one last look over her shoulder at Harry and his cousin, noting

for the first time that Harry stood in front of the dreadful girl, in an

obviously defensive maneuver. Her stomach dropped. She blatantly

ignored the girl's victorious look in her direction and allowed herself to

be led around those hovering by the entrances into the train.

When they reached an empty cabin and door closed, Neville turned to

her and spoke.

"Hermione-."

"What on Earth was that!? How dare that little harlot insult me? She's

never even met me!"

Neville sighed and took a seat.

"Consider this your first lesson in Potter Family Magik, Hermione." He

looked away as if searching for words. "There is a reason why Olde

Families like the Blacks, the McGees, the Blythes, the Cornishes, the

Gaunts and others inbred so much that it led to their extinction in some

cases. Of course, it was partially consensual - as disgusting as that may

be. I'd bet Trevor that they were coerced to some extent by their Family

Magik."

"What does that have to do with that little incestuous episode or her

obnoxious attitude-?" Hermione erupted, steaming. The shock from

Harry's actions had worn off, leaving a deep bitterness in its place.

The ever patient Neville calmly interrupted her. "You didn't let me finish.

Sit down before you accidentally insult me like you nearly did the

Potters." After a moment of hesitation, Hermione took a big breath and

did just that, and he continued. "So. Family Magik tends to be sentient

enough to sense when a line is in danger. It usually tries to match

remaining members - Last of Lines - with compatible and worthy

members within its power."

"'Within its' power'? Family members!" Hermione completed for him

aghast. The very idea of being forced or coerced into a relationship with

a family member was too much for her contemporary mind, but she

could imagine the magic doing just that.

Harry had fulfilled his promise to her, Sirius, Remus and Professor Snape

by bringing them to Potter Manor and introducing them to his uncles and

a few cousins three days ago. She had immediately fallen in love with the

Potter Library. She almost drooled just thinking about it now. Both she

and Remus were rendered breathless by the titles of the priceless tomes

and scrolls that Harry had acquired from the Peverell and Gryffindor

vaults. Sirius had to drag them out of the library after ten or so hours.

They hadn't even heard from Snape after he found a long-lost potion

scroll co-authored by Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff.

Harry's uncles Franklin Cecil and Milton Arnold Potter had assigned her

the task of checking the library for uses of blood magic to deconstruct a

ritual-made construct. Her knowledge of Arithmancy and Runes had

impressed them so much that they also let her double check their notes.

There she stumbled across some mentioning of Family Magik, but never

more than a line or two. When she tried to research it, she always hit a

wall. She figured that it was a kind of secret magic that was more blood-

bound than the ritual magic she was researching.

Purebloods… how dare they hide magic from other magicals. Magic is

naturally democratic.

She remembered then that Nicholas Flamel had authored an essay on

democratizing magic in 1566, and made a mental reminder to re-read the

essay when she found the time.

Neville coughed softly, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Yes, family members. Thank goodness there are no more Longbottom

branches." The blond-haired teen replied with a shudder. "Harry and

his… cousin?" Hermione nodded. "I figured as much. They most likely

don't even notice the compulsion, but their Family Magik must consider

them to be compatible." The bitterness in Hermione's stomach grew.

She and Harry weren't officially anything other than friends. But she

definitely had the feeling that they had grown closer over the course of

the last three days before she went back to her parents for their annual

ritual of eating fancy before she boarded the train. She was almost

completely sure that he had been showing interest in her with his smiles

at meals, the brief moments of physical embraces and the other small

shows of affection.

Before Hermione could respond, Neville swiftly interjected. "I assume the

Magik is making the cousin defensive towards anyone she or It considers

to be a threat or competition, for example, you. I've heard cases of it also

making siblings hate each when they became too close when no line was

in danger." He went a bit green.

Outside, the departure whistle blew, and the train began to move forward

slowly.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. "It would most likely make Harry

defend her as well, as he did." Neville merely nodded in agreement.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal her black-

haired best friend. When you speak of the devil...

Harry looked very much like a kicked puppy.

"I'm sorry for Henriette, Mione. I don't know what came over her." Harry

ran a hand through his hair and sat next to her. "I think it's the stress of

everything."

With him defending his cousin, Hermione felt the thin thread that was

holding her anger back tear. She growled and was going to give Harry a

big piece of her mind when Neville cleared his throat.

"I believe the Prefect Meeting will be starting soon. We should get going,

Hermione."

Harry looked at his roommate of four years with a bright, proud smile.

"Congrats again, mate. If any of us sods deserved the honor, it's you! Do

the Perfect Prefect Monster some justice!"

Neville let loose a deep laugh at some unspoken joke. He puffed out his

chest to dramatic proportions where the shiny badge on his well-toned

chest was very noticeable and offered Hermione his arm, which she took

with a small shake of her head at their antics. She figured that they were

making fun of Percy Weasley, who had gone down in recent Hogwarts

history as Pompous Prefect Percy.

Without so much as a "bye" to Harry, she left the compartment on

Neville's arm. She stumbled slightly when she saw Harry's confused and

hurt expression in the glass' reflection. Nevertheless, she felt a small

sliver of satisfaction.

After a moment or two of silence, Neville continued their conversation.

"You two are like mating dragons. They cause more destruction and

damage to their surroundings and to each other when mating than when

they are on a rampage." Neville said with a small nudge to Hermione's

shoulder, despite their interlocked arms. "You are so intense, demanding

and stubborn; and Harry's the most impulsive, nerve-wracking, oblivious

person I've ever met."

He sighed dramatically, "With such a mix, I truly fear for my children

since they will most likely be your children's friends. Merlin forbid they

marry…"

"Neville!" Hermione said hitting him on his shoulder, pushing herself out

of his arms in mock fury.

Some underclassmen looked out of their compartments at the two. "My

Lady Granger! Please don't hit me with any books! I promise to be a good

man-servant." He begged, having dropped to his knees to grovel into her

robes.

Hermione went red as the obviously new students peered at her fearfully.

She could just hear her nickname for the year, Dark Lady Hermione. She

growled at Neville and dragged him to his feet as the students scampered

back into their compartments. Neville's chuckles were soon too

contagious, and they both made it to the Prefect Meeting gasping for

breath from laughing and barely on time.

It wasn't until after the rather, even for her standards - and she stayed

awake in Binns' classes - boring meeting that she realized that Neville had

completely distracted her from her anger at Harry and his horrible

cousin.

Neville had excused himself in a, now typical, exaggerated bow and

scrape fashion, going to find his male friends before he joined her for

their rounds. Hermione's hand twitched as she reached for the knob for

the door of Harry's compartment.

She could see his silhouette in the cabin. She sighed as she turned and

decided to go see Ron, Ginny, and Ginny's friends instead.

.

.

.

.

Harry sighed as Hermione sat on the other side of Neville nearly directly

across from him in the Great Hall.

He still had no clue why Hermione reacted the way she did on the train

or what her current problem was. Of the three of them - now two, with

Ron unable to speak with him - Hermione was always the rational one.

As she left on Neville's arm, Harry felt as if he had swallowed a hot knife

that slowly turned in his gut. He spent some time in the compartment,

after locking it magically, to peruse his memories of Hermione's

interaction with Henriette. The passive form of Occulmency had not

revealed anything that made sense of Hermione's reactions.

"Hey, Harry?" Harry's dorm mate Dean Thomas whispered from across

the table. "I think someone is not happy with you." He pointed to the

professors' table.

Harry looked in confusion across the room at said table. He could now

feel eyes burning furiously into his very being. All professors were

accounted for except Hagrid, who was running an errand for

Dumbledore, and the fake Moody. In fake Moody's stead was a prim and

proper looking Percy Weasley, looking over the hall with a superior gaze.

Whenever his eyes roamed and rested on Harry, they were filled with

such a ferocious hatred that Harry's wand quivered in its holder.

"You don't say," He murmured partially in response to Dean and in part to

no one in particular.

Fuming due to the loss of the Tiaras and Harry's revealing of her

misdeeds, Molly Prewitt, formerly Weasley, called upon her Headship of

the matriarchal Prewitt Line and began a Blood Feud on both House

Black and House Potter. Although Arthur Weasley divorced his wife for

publically overruling his decision to let it be, the Prewitt Family Magik

had already settled, and House Weasley had no say over House Prewitt.

Harry had received a letter from the Twins before the divorce story broke

in the Prophet. They expressed anxiety that they and their elder brothers

Charlie and Bill were planning to rebuke the Prewitt Line. The letter

didn't allude to Percy or Ron so Harry assumed that the two were

following their mother's bloodline and will. Since men couldn't head a

matriarchal line, the male Weasleys didn't have a chance of becoming

Lord Prewitt anyway; only Ginny, who was underage and second in line

to her mother.

Harry wondered briefly why and how the Prewitt Family switched from

patriarchal to matriarchal. Maybe since the men lost the Tiaras to the

Blacks, the women took over.

For a moment he considered asking his cousin Jonas, who was well-

versed in the histories of the Olde Families. I wonder where he's been. I

haven't seen him at all lately.

Harry's stream of consciousness was broken by Dean waving a hand in his

face.

"Sorry, what?" He asked as he refocused on his dorm mate.

"Is it true what Neville is saying?" Harry noticed that every Gryffindor

within hearing distance was looking at him.

He gave Neville a questioning look, but the blond was doing his rather

eerily impression of Percy.

"Did you really mention him by his name?" Seamus asked from beside

Dean. Neville's eyes flickered to the Head Table, and Harry's brain finally

caught up with the situation.

He chuckled mentally and lowered his head in defeat. "Yes… I couldn't

have known that he would come when invoked!" He defended as the

other two fifth-year, Gryffindor guys groaned out loud.

Their playful banter and all other conversations in the Hall were brought

to an end with Professor McGonagall's arrival with the First Years for

Sorting.

Harry could hardly pay attention to the Sorting since he finally noticed

the whispered conversations and looks in his direction. Percy and Ron

were casting angry looks at him and sharing glances with one another,

which made him uncomfortable. Hermione was ignoring his very

existence, and Neville's closeness to Hermione was more than

unacceptable.

He sighed. He could feel that this was the beginning of yet another

difficult year.

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AN: Many thanks to Kairan1979 for the grammar correction in the

previous chapter.

Hayne aka. Hainbuche: ließ weiter und du erfährst wie es weiter geht :)

woher wusstest du, dass ich Deutsch spreche?

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

10. Chapter 10: The First Strike

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Chapter Ten: The First Strike

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It was rumored the veil between this world and the Otherworld was at its

thinnest on Samhain, or Halloween as the religious muggles called it

while running around for tricks and treats. Wizarding children knew

better than to ask for candy or such on the day. Rather, they spent time

with their family, calling up the memories of their beloved ancestors,

usually receiving a response or two from their most magically powerful

or will-strong ancestors.

Haros Caronte was neither mumming for candy nor filiopietistically

calling up spirits. As per his magical employment contract, he was

ferrying the newest inmates to their final destination, the wizarding

prison Azkaban.

He ignored the whimpering of the soon-to-be prisoners as they breached

the Dementor Barrier, where the effect of Dementors became noticeable

and increasingly difficult to endure. He felt merely a brush of cold upon

his occluded mind and nothing more. In the moonlit distance, he could

see the cloaked demons floating around like a black-cloaked, muggle

version of ghosts, more agitated than usual.

It was normal that the creatures became more active on Samhain. The

Dementor Discordia, they called it. It was theorized by Joachim

Breitscheid, a German rival of Newton Scamander, that the souls

devoured by the Dementors attempted to break free and ended up giving

the creatures a horrible case of indigestion. Scamander and many other

Magizoologists scorned the theory in their counter screeds, vilifying it as

rubbish and self-refuting. It was never proven that Dementors actually

ingested souls. Most Magizoologists agreed that Dementors feed off of the

"final fear" of a person as they disconnected the soul from the body.

As someone who had witnessed many Dementor Kisses, and spent his

downtime reading all he could on the beasts he saw as coworkers,

Caronte wasn't so sure that Breitscheid's theorem was completely wrong.

Many Magizoologists had never witnessed a Kiss; he and Breitscheid had,

the latter having observed Dementors in Azkaban for eleven months. A

bright essence was clearly sucked into the Dementor, and it was not

released.

On the other hand, indigestion is just not the right phrasing. Caronte would

call it "internal rebellion".

If a soul contained by the Dementors were invoked, it would most likely feel

the need to respond to the summons and fight against whatever is holding it - it

would most likely rebel against its captor, he theorized.

Such a theory would revolutionize the magizoological world. Caronte

doubted though that such a theory coming from a half-blood without any

background in Magizoology, or famous relatives, would be anything but

laughed at or binned before being taken seriously.

He sighed inaudibly and considered the possibility of co-writing with a

few well known, contemporaries in the field. He doubted that that would

ever happen, though, no matter how much he wished it could.

His musings were interrupted as the Dementors, nearly 150 in total,

stopped moving at once, and as if they were members of a collective

being called to stop.

Caronte watched as a single figure, steeped in darkness, floated from the

prison to the Dementors. The figure conversed with the Dementors for a

moment before flying back to the prison.

There was a moment where everything seemed to quiet, even the

whimpering of the prisoners behind him ceased. Caronte halted the little

boat with his wand.

"What's going on? Are we already there?"

Caronte ignored the guard accompanying the inmates. The Auror, like

most others before him, had slacked off in his guard duties and fallen

asleep one or two hours into the three-hour trip. No one wanted to pull

the Azkaban Transport shift. Most were roped into it because they made

a mistake elsewhere or insulted the wrong person in the Ministry.

Caronte couldn't blame them for their inattentiveness though. He tended

to read one of his many books on Dementors during the trip to the

mainland when it was time to pick up new inmates or go home.

He was once more pulled out of his thoughts as loud bangs and flashes of

light illuminated the night like small fireworks. If Caronte wasn't

mistaken, he could hear the sounds of people falling into the waters

below. The Dementors wasted no time in swooping in to Kiss with

abandon those who were unfortunate to fall. Caronte thanked the dark

heavens that he had stopped the boat a few nautical miles away from the

island. They were close enough to see much in the moonlight yet not

enough to catch the attention of the Dementors.

"Dear Merlin!" The young Auror gasped. Caronte rolled his eyes and

subtly checked to make sure that prisoners didn't attempt to break free of

their chains and overpower the two of them - which should have been

the Auror's job.

Without any warning, the entire south side of the prison - the side nearest

the maximum security levels, Caronte noted with a shudder - exploded.

Like an avalanche of stone, walls and cells, and inmates inevitably, slid

into the sea. He steadied the boat once more due to the rather high waves

caused by the collapsing stone.

The Dementors no longer seemed agitated. They glided around where the

island met the sea and were now grabbing and kissing any fallen inmates,

sometimes before they even hit the water. Caronte closed his eyes in a

silent prayer for the souls of the innocent men and women who had been

sent Azkaban without trials. It was a public secret that Azkaban was also

used as a prison for political opponents and for those the rich and mighty

wanted to get rid of.

There was a flash of bright golden light followed by a loud roar of

outrage. Caronte squinted and noted some bright Patronuses now

emerging from the different spots within the prison. Many Dementors

seemed to retreat from one rather large and bright Patronus.

The battle within the prison seemed to go on for hours, even though his

watch showed that only a few minutes had passed. More stone

avalanches caused by the battle within the prison forced Caronte to

steady the boat with magic many more times. He sent a drying spell at

the other three people in his boat as waves violently rolled and crashed

into it.

A nightmarish, ear-numbing screech caused all in the area to stop what

they were doing and turn to the source. Caronte watched as one of the

Dementors who strayed too close to a battle get viciously tackled and

mauled by a quite celestial Patronus. To his utter astonishment, the

unkillable Dementor was set ablaze by a pure white, holy looking flame,

and mauled by the Patronus.

The screeching ceased suddenly, and the Dementor was apparently

ripped apart until it was no more. Small bright lights seemed to unravel

from the now unused cloak. The balls of light floated slowly up to the

heavens, others darted in all directions, into the prison and even into the

water.

Caronte felt faint. Those are souls!

"Prongs! Get them all!" He heard a young and raw male voice shout.

The night was suddenly filled with the screams of Dementors and fighting

as the battle began anew.

Dumbstruck, Caronte watched for a moment as lights continued to dart

into the waters beneath the island.

The souls are returning to their hosts… His brain was barely keeping up

with the phenomenon. This refutes any research into Dementors destroying

the soul of their victim. If they only "eat" the souls, it would make sense that

the soul returns to its host. They might even "live" again if their soul returns!

Slowly, he realized that many of the bodies of the Dementors most recent

victims were swimming just below the surface of the sea. This gave him a

quick jolt. Without thinking twice, he quickly expanded the boat and

began summoning bodies out of the water by their clothes. He urged the

shell-shocked Auror to do the same, before putting the fresh inmates into

an enchanted sleep.

Among the inmates he and his Auror helper reeled in, they found some

inmates who had been obviously killed by the fall or by the sharp rocks

beneath the prison. There were, however, many soulless and re-souled

bodies that had to be resuscitated before they were put under an

enchanted sleep. He counted two or three de-souled wizards who most

likely had come in with either of the battling parties based on their

every-day or mysterious black robes.

Some had even managed to run afoul of the sharks and other biting

creatures of the sea. Caronte was no medi-wizard but managed to tightly

bandage the bite wounds caused by the animals which had been attracted

to the blood.

Suddenly, the Auror behind him screamed in fright. Caronte turned

quickly with a stunning spell on his lips and nearly dropped his wand in

fright at the scene before him. Three of the Dementors must have noticed

their body fishing from afar and come to investigate. One of the tall, foul

creatures held the young Auror's face in its scabby grey hands and had

lowered its to reveal an eyeless face with a revolting, scabbed over hole

where its mouth should be.

While the Auror was held twitching in the Dementor's grasp, one of the

other creatures glided over to Caronte and lowered its hood as well.

Caronte barely noted the smell of decomposing flesh or the hands lifting

him up into the air. His wand clattered uselessly to the floor of the boat.

The rattling of the Dementor's breath seemed to hitch in magic and it

pulled.

Caronte felt as if something was hooking onto his very being and was

sucking him dry as one would a portable pumpkin juice. The sensation,

or increasing lack thereof, began in his extremities and quickly made its

way inward, centrally toward his heart. Everything felt cold. He could see

a bright blue essence leaving his mouth and being sucked into the hole in

the Dementor's face.

Darkness crept into his eyesight. He thought of his son and his wife, who

was not so subtle in her planning to divorce him because of his job.

So this is what a Kiss feels like.

Then he was looking up at the illuminated starry sky. His thoughts were

silent. He coughed as his body struggled to get the air it needed. The

warmth of life returned slowly to his arms and legs, then he remembered

where he was and what was happening.

He rolled over slowly and onto his wand, which he grasped onto as if it

were his lifeline. He sat up and scooted away from the bodies he had

arranged in groups onto the expanded boat.

Caronte shook his head. He felt lighter and healthier than he had since he

had begun working in Azkaban to support his small family eight years

ago. He felt a boundless energy and noticed for the first time that a

Patronus walked on the water next to him. He noted later that he no

longer felt the icy presence of the Dementors.

The deer-like being of light beckoned to his soul and lightened it. He

reached out slowly over the side of the boat to touch it. The animal's eyes

bore into his own for a moment. Just before he could touch it, and

without any warning, the Patronus dispersed into thousands of silvery

wisps.

The calm that it had emanated remained. Caronte glanced at his place of

work and his mouth dropped. There were no more Dementors, no more

battle, and Caronte would be surprised if there were any survivors left in

Azkaban. The top half of the building had collapsed inward and more of

the facade and facility were sliding every now and then into the water.

Above the desecrated building hung an ominous Dark Mark as bright and

luminous as the moon above him.

After swallowing a hard lump in his throat, Caronte spent a few more

moments summoning bodies, all of which lifeless, their lungs filled with

water, and heaping them onto the large pile of dead bodies. He cast a

warming spell on the slightly smaller pile of living just to be on the safe

side. The young Auror remained unconscious at the other end of the boat

as Caronte steered the boat back to shore to alert the Aurors of his

survival. His mind continuously revisited and reviewed his experience

with the Dementors.

There is so much we didn't know about Dementors, was all he could think

about. He would be forever grateful to the person with the deer-like

Patronus.

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5 hours prior

Lady Cassiopeia Black was a woman on a mission. The 80-year-old

marched from the Floo point in Hogsmeade through the ward line up to

the school she had graduated from over six decades ago.

There were many students aimlessly milling about. Such a thing was

absolutely not done in her time. She and her cousin Callidora had been

put in detention for less.

She made a mental note to chat with her reclusive, persnickety cousin.

She had heard that Callidora was nearing her time from Callidora's

daughter-in-law, Minister of Magic Augusta Longbottom.

"Lady Black! How can Hogwarts be of assistance to you today?"

The unflappable Lady Black was rendered absolutely speechless by the

man who had just appeared in a burst of phoenix flames. Dumbledore's

garish, pink and gold dyed robes seemed to radiate overwhelming

happiness and cheer.

Lady Black barely managed to hold her morning meal down.

How there are any doubts as to his preference for men, I will never know.

She gave herself an elegant shake, as elegant as one can make such a

gesture, to refocus her thoughts.

"I request the presence of Lord Potter, Heir of my House." She forewent

the standard pureblood niceties and greetings. They would be wasted on

the man.

He surely didn't deserve them either. She had neither forgotten nor

forgiven his part in her grandnephew's unlawful incarceration.

Nonetheless, he will feel the wrath of the Blacks soon enough.

She noted a twitch in his left cheek as his eye twinkles intensified. Lady

Black's mental walls fortified themselves even around her stray thoughts

in the blink of an eye. She was not green nor was she unaware of his

liberal use of Legilimency to skim the perimeter of other minds. But since

he rarely penetrated the mind, he was well within the grey area of the

law and unpunishable.

To think that such a blood traitor would use such a Pureblood tactic.

"Of course." He said turning around with an after-you gesture and a,

slightly mocking, small bow. Only decades of interactions with him kept

her from hexing his hircine butt into the morn.

She gave a small sniff and made her way towards the building with the

man at her side.

I wonder if he sees himself as the Lord of this castle. I have to speak to

Narcissa about reducing this fool's influence.

Since her husband's well-publicized demise, Lady Narcissa Black-Malfoy

had been a whirlwind of activity in the Wizengamot's chambers, at

charity events and other dedications in Britain and on the Continent. She

had thrown off the robe of a trophy wife and was beginning to show the

world her true face, her Black face.

Her hands were in numerous pots and Cassiopeia was for one grateful for

it and for Narcissa's unending loyalty to House Black. It was due to

Narcissa's connections that she received the vital information that she

would now pass on to Lord Potter, Heir Black, in hopes of building up his

relationship with House Black.

Her thoughts turned to her grandnephew Sirius as she entered the castle.

He was making some headway in reforming the connections that once

made their House so great. She took over the more politically delicate

situations since the boy had really no clue on how to keep his political

mask up. She shook her head mentally at her niece and nephew's great

failure in raising their sons, the Main Line's Heirs, to Black standards.

One is dead and the other hates the House… If she could strangle the two, if

they weren't dead, she would. They nearly spelled the desinence of the

Family's Main Line. Maybe I will go and torture Walburga's portrait. That

should relieve some of this stress.

"Please wait here, my Lady. Harry will be along momentarily." The old

goat said as he led her into one of the conference rooms on the first floor.

He ordered refreshments from a house elf and swiftly departed from the

room.

Cassiopeia's first glance of the room deemed it acceptable for business

between Houses. A large fireplace warmed the stone room. However, two

large and empty portraits graced the walls and her passive magic picked

up at least two scrying and listening charms.

Her eyes narrowed at this affront, but she decided to ignore his slight on

her intelligence. Everyone knew that portraits, even empty ones, should

be removed when Lords and Ladies met within Hogwarts. It was basically

common courtesy. Listening charms were also taboo, but most politicians

cast then on their opponents and the partners of their opponents to

gather information.

She had barely sat herself down before the door opened and the young,

dark-haired Lord entered the room.

She stood up immediately. Her magic demanded it. His magic and

presence had filled the room so quickly that she felt slightly lightheaded.

He gave her a nearly perfect bow in respect of her position and his

relation to her, albeit distant.

"How can I assist you, Lady Black?" He asked formally, his piercing green

eyes focused on her.

Although a young man dressed as a pupil stood before her, she could

sense the young lord who had turned the Wizengamot - perhaps all of

Magical Britain - on its head in one sitting.

This is the man who took on the Dark Lord at 11 and 14, a basilisk at 12 with

a sword, over 100 Dementors at 13, and two Killing Curses AND survived…

She suddenly felt 50 years younger and had the desire to impress the

man before her.

She internally praised his ad rem manner. She responded in kind.

"Lord Potter… my Heir Black. I come bearing news that could spell

disaster for your Family and efforts against the Dark Lord. This requires

your immediate attention."

His eyes narrowed at her. He looked around the room briefly.

"Lord Gryffindor seals this room of all Foreign Magik. So mote it be!"

There was a brief flash of light and a burst of wind in the room. The

portraits and some small knickknacks instantly vanished from the room.

The fire in the hearth turned blue signaling the floo system, at least

within the room, being shut down.

"Very clever, my Lord!" She nodded genuinely surprised with a pleased

smile. She had never expected him to use his Gryffindor Lordship to keep

the old goat from spying.

The raven-haired youth blushed at the praise. "Any advantage is a good

advantage. I also learned recently that Headmaster Dumbledore prefers

to stay abreast of what's said and done in the castle at all costs to

privacy."

She nodded. No words were needed.

"The Dark Lord-."

"Tom Riddle." He insisted as he sat her at the tea table. "Neither by right

nor might is he a Lord."

She swallowed her automatic response to his impertinence. She added

that to a mental list, labeled "Henry James Potter", of things she would

have to teach him before he became Lord Black.

"Of course, my Lord." She watched in astonishment as he prepared her

tea nearly to perfection. How did he kno-... Sirius, you dog!

She was finding less and less to critique on the young lord.

"Our own Narcissa has discovered that… Tom Riddle plans to attack

Azkaban tonight."

She studied his face intently for any distress or a reaction of any type.

There were none.

"I see." His eyes bore again into hers as he took a sip of his tea. "How

does House Black wish to react to this information?"

His question threw her off. After a moment she responded. "We will

follow House Potter, my Lord."

"Hmmm." He looked away towards the warming fire in the hearth. He set

his teacup down soundlessly, crossed his hands on the table and

contemplated.

Silence reigned for a while. Cassiopeia Black once more held her tongue.

Either the young lord was weighing his possibilities, her motives, or both.

She would do the same in his position.

Without warning, she found herself held captive within the grasp of the

verdant eyes. "Thank you, my Lady, for the warning. I shall work to keep

Riddle from gaining a stronghold within the prison and from gathering

his detained followers."

Lady Black suddenly felt the fire grow in intensity next to her as the

young lord's eyes seemingly burned an impression into her. She shivered

involuntarily despite the heat in the room.

"I will not, however, give quarter to any of Riddle's minions should they

cross my wand, regardless of bloodline." His hint was crystal clear:

Bellatrix Lestrange would not be spared.

Rather than argue that that had not been her intention, Cassiopeia Black

nodded slowly. "We understand." She finished her tea.

He merely blinked at her response before standing and declaring the

meeting over. "I will put together a small task force. Some of the

Unspeakables at my House's disposal are eager to test Riddle." His vicious

smirk made her heart skip a beat. "Please pardon my haste. Thank you

once more for the information."

"No pardon nor thanks required. As Lady Regnant of the most loyal

sibling house to House Potter, it is my honor and duty to share such

knowledge."

It happened so quickly that she almost missed it. A dark look of suspicion

appeared on his face for not even a fraction of a second, leaving no trace

of its brief presence to be found.

"Please extend my gratitude to Lady Narcissa as well. I look forward to

seeing her and thanking her in person at the Black Family Gathering for

New Year's."

Lady Cassiopeia Black curtsied and departed from the room. As she left

the castle, she couldn't help but ruminate on Lord Potter attending the

Gathering. It was definitely an unexpected but wanted boon. She had

planned to send the invitation letters only in her and Sirius's name. She

planned to pass on the lordship mantle to Sirius then. Now she could

include Lord Potter as Heir Black and surely increase the attendance of

those members with grey and light tendencies.

This will be one of the most memorable Black Gatherings in recent centuries.

She just knew it in her bones.

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Harry hated Halloween… He really hated Halloween. Not only was it the

day a madman decided to listen to half of a prophecy and murder his

parents, but it was usually a day where horrible things happened to him.

He was almost a hundred percent sure that the day was cursed.

Trolls in the school, the Chamber of Secrets re-opening, Sirius Black breaking

into the school and attacking the Fat Lady - despite his innocence, and his

name unexpectedly being drawn by the Goblet of Fire for the Triwizard

Tournament… and now snakeface attacks Azkaban.

Harry gave a sigh and put down the butterbeer that he had asked the

house elves to bring to the room after Lady Black left. The Hogwarts

house-elves were technically not allowed to accept orders from students,

but being Lord Gryffindor had many perks. Rather than going to Defense

and Charms buzzed, he decided to go to Flitwick afterward to explain the

situation. Maybe the former dueling champion would be willing to be his

chaperone for his mission tonight.

He might have to go to Dumbledore too about Defense. He'd be damned

if he went to Professor Weasley. He massaged his temples and downed

another butterbeer.

He quickly messaged his uncles FC, Milton and Orville over the

cellphone-like device Uncle FC and the Australian Unspeakables called a

holoport. It was basically a magical, mobile telephone with the ability to

see and broadcast images or simple text messages with excessive and

insanely complex runic components.

The Australian Unspeakables kept a close eye on non-magical scientific

and science fiction advancements, much more so than their British

counterparts. Sometimes they even supported their non-mag counterparts

in their scientific developments. If Harry remembered correctly, the

Australian Unspeakables invested in an Australian non-mag company

named Australian Holographics in order to develop their holoport.

Harry kept the sleek and expensive looking device - definitely out of

some Star Trek film - on his person at all times. FC was in talks with his

superiors to see if the Potter Family could get a few more of the devices.

Since it allowed for instantaneous audio-visual communication, reduced

their reaction time to life-threatening events and would go a long way in

keeping his family connected, Harry didn't mind spending a few tens of

thousands of galleons on it.

I might even grab one for Hermione and Ron.

At that thought, he quickly called for the house elf to bring him another

butterbeer and thanked it so graciously that the creature seemed close to

tears. The thought of his best friends and the state of their relationship

would have been grounds enough for him to order a whole pack of

butterbeer.

Hermione had taken to avoiding him at all costs, even going in the

opposite direction when he walked toward her. He still had no clue why

she was behaving the way she did. Whenever he asked Neville, the only

person who he talked to at all nowadays, the blond would only tell him

to ask Hermione or look at his memories of the Hogwarts Express.

Harry wanted to strangle the blond sometimes, but he controlled the urge

to the best of his abilities. Hermione only hung out with Neville, and only

talked to him as well. Harry had the feeling sometimes that the blond

was purposefully misleading him to sow discord and in order to keep

Hermione to himself.

And Ron… Ron was avoiding him for both of their sakes. They had had a

small discussion the first night back in the Tower, both barely holding

back the Blood Feud-fueled need to attack each other. The redhead

apologized for the actions of his mother and for the money that was

stolen. He had no knowledge of it. The fact that the redhead with the

emotional capacity of a teaspoon and the temper of a dragon initiated the

conversation made Harry miss his friend even more. Harry knew how

money was always a difficult issue to discuss with his first friend.

Harry was grateful for the apology and for his openness, but it,

unfortunately, changed nothing; they were still unable to hang out or

even spend long periods of time in each other's presence.

Maybe we can grab a drink when this Blood Feud is over. Fuck, I don't have

time to think about this shite.

His mind switched to his cousin Henriette whose letter arrived by post

yesterday. Henriette was finally finished with her preparations for the

Potter Yuletide Gathering and had settled her studies at Whitefriar

College of Wizardry so she could remain in England. She had somehow

convinced Uncle Virgil's remaining brothers Percival Hermann Potter,

who lived with his wife and adopted children in the USA, and Lester

Lloyd Potter, who lived in the Potter French Villa in Bourgogne, to attend

the Gathering, and she was throwing all of her energy into making the

Gathering work out.

Hardwin Potter also had six daughters, all of whom he married off to

powerful European families. Three of the sisters were still alive but only

one was willing and fit to travel. Regina von Hapsburg, née Potter, and

her son Karl von Hapsburg would be arriving with Lester Lloyd's family.

The Hapsburgs were supposed to be rather powerful in both the magical

and non-mag worlds, according to Henriette's letter. Henriette was also

preparing portfolios so Harry knew who was who.

What a lifesaver.

Harry was also looking forward to having the little, cordate-faced

Jasmine at his side again when he met the larger extended family. He

had a feeling he would need her bubbly personality and seer-like abilities

again.

He noticed his thoughts were spinning out of control. He finished what

he deemed his last butterbeer and stared into the fire for a few moments

to meditate.

He managed for a few minutes before his passive magic noticed a

disturbance nearing the door. With a flick of his wand, he quickly

vanished the empty butterbeer bottles as the door to the meeting room

flew open. He was maybe a moment too late.

"When the Headmaster said I would find you here, he did not inform me

that you would be missing my class to drink under the facade of Family

Business!" The redhead menace of a professor said with a well-timed

snarl.

Harry rolled his eyes and hoped that if he ignored Professor Weasley he

would go away, as one would an annoying fly.

"20 points from Gryffindor for your insolence and skipping class." Only

20? He must be feeling charitable today. Just last week, he deducted 30 points

because my robes were incorrectly fastened. "50 points for drinking

alcoholic beverages during school hours. And another 20 points for

ignoring a teacher!" That sounds more like Professor Weasley I know!

Over the course of the past months, Professor Weasley had established

himself as the 'Red-haired Snape of Gryffindor'. Few enjoyed his dry and

barely informative lectures, and more than a few students had run afoul

of his inconsolable temper. It was rumored that the man was bitter

because of the demise of the previous Minister of Magic, upon whose

coattails Percy Weasley had religiously latched himself. He was now

trusted by few, if any, in the Ministry, and once the opportunity

presented itself to get rid of him - the Ministry had promised to provide a

Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, be it the recently incarcerated

Dolores Umbridge or another disposable Ministry employee - they seized

it happily.

It was clear that the man was also unhappy with Harry personally. Either

for removing the previous Minister, due to the Blood Feud, both or

something else. No student so far had drawn his ire as Harry had. No

student has had so many points deducted either.

And of course, the year where Snape goes easy on his vitriol, someone else

takes his spot, Harry thought disdainfully.

"Do I have to add a month of detention to get you to speak?!"

Harry sighed, not bothering to look in the man's direction though his

wand was very visible in his hand. "I do not expect you to understand the

intricacies of the Pureblood Circuit, Professor Weasley."

He turned slightly to see the reaction. Oh, how he enjoyed the tightening

of the man's face. "I will not be able to attend classes today or tomorrow

morning. I planned to inform the Headmaster, as required before I leave

the castle tonight due to Family Business."

"And what Family Business is this?"

What a fool. Harry's eyes narrowed. "You are dangerously close to losing

your place and your head… sir."

The redhead's pinched look intensified. "You will get your comeuppance,

Potter. You mark my words!" He spat with bloodlust in his eye.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow. Missing class warrants a comeuppance

now?

"I will see you in lessons tomorrow." The man threatened before storming

from the room. "And a week of detention with me for your disrespect!"

He threw over his shoulder before the door slammed shut.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. He should not have provoked the man

so, but the Blood Feud made him so violent and inconsolable towards the

Weasleys, or at least those who had other denounced their Prewitt

heritage. Luckily Ron was avoiding him, he saw the twins rarely since he

wasn't playing Quidditch this year, and he rarely interacted with Ginny.

It was at times like these that he wished he was not so in tune with his

Family Magik.

With a great heave, he made his way to the kitchens to grab a bite to eat

and to avoid the feast that was partially in honor of his parents' sacrifice.

It was a very satisfied Harry who met with Professor Flitwick after the

feast. The short professor, though understanding of Harry's tardiness,

declined to join him for his mission in Azkaban.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter. Since leaving the dueling circuit in the 70s,

I've fully dedicated my life to teaching future generations. I don't see my

twenty-years rusty skills useful in either formal or informal dueling

settings." The man, who had slowly become Harry's favorite instructor

this year, said in an almost ashamed tone.

Harry, though disappointed, completely understood. He considered

instead to have a series of small dueling sessions with the man

throughout the year for both to work on and refresh their techniques.

Unfortunately, a few first years had questions for the professor, and

Harry had to inform the Headmaster of his impending departure. He

made a mental note about the dueling class and said a farewell to the

busy professor.

His trek to the headmaster was mentally long. The corridors were fairly

populated, and he spent much of his energy avoiding the whispered

conversations that gained in intensity when he approached.

He wondered briefly if, somehow unbeknownst to him, his name had

been entered into another dangerous competition.

At least the Hufflepuffs no longer blame me for Cedric's death.

Still, he was truly sick and tired of the Hogwarts student population,

more often than not nowadays. Without Ron and Hermione to force him

to be social, he had taken to avoiding other students at all costs outside

of classes and the odd meal not spent in the kitchen or the Come and Go

Room that Dobby the elf had shown him. He wondered if his two years

under the bubble had made him grow up so much that he found nothing

in common with his year-mates.

With a start, he noticed that his feet had led him to the gargoyle that

guarded the Headmaster's office. A quick glance at his grandfather's

watch, he realized he had fifteen minutes before he would meet up with

his uncles.

He gathered his most snide and aloof lord voice and spoke to the

guardian. "I don't know the password, and I will not waste my time

guessing sweets. Please inform the Headmaster that Lord Potter is here to

see him."

He felt like an idiot for not thinking to ask Lady Black if she, or Narcissa

Black-Malfoy, knew exactly when Riddle planned to attack. Since

everything was uncertain, time was of the essence. But Harry would bet

his prized watch that Riddle would attack under the veil of darkness.

And the sun has already set, he realized with a clenched stomach as he

looked out of the nearest window.

With the grating sound of stone rubbing stone, the gargoyle moved

slowly out of the way, and Harry made his way up the turning, spiral

staircase to the headmaster's office.

It was written that each of the Founders had their own special rooms, but

each had also contributed to the headmaster's office, which had once sat

all four of the Founders. Helga Hufflepuff worked on the network of

magic that told a headmaster when a student was in danger and designed

the room itself. Ravenclaw created a scrying book to detect and locate

new magical students that remained in the office. She also built the

staircase. It and the external facade of the office could apparently turn

into a trap, charmed by Salazar Slytherin to do things most horrible to

enemies if the headmaster so willed.

Luckily no instructions to the trap stood the test of time, otherwise, some of the

less noble headmasters would have been tempted to use it too often.

Godric Gryffindor, the Battle Transfigurer of his age, had created the

gargoyle that served as the first and main interior defense for the office.

Its power and sentience were modern marvels. Most students didn't know

that the creature was the oldest and last surviving of its kind, and subject

to much international magical research. The centuries' old, adamantine

golem was a testament to Gryffindor's prowess and power.

"Ah, Harry, what can I do for you this fine evening?" The Headmaster

greeted with genuine delight. "I trust your meeting with Lady Black went

well."

Harry smiled as he approached the man's elaborate desk. "I could not

reveal that to you either way, Albus. You know that. You could ask the

portraits that you hid in the room…"

To the amused bewilderment of the younger man, Albus Dumbledore

gave a mighty belly laugh that seemed to relieve the room of any tension.

"My dear Harry," the old man began, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"I haven't had such an exciting year in decades, and you've managed to

see through every single play I've made… marvelous. You've made

politics in Britain the most interesting thing in this castle for all ages and

blood-statuses without even trying..." The man clapped his hands

together as if he had found a particularly difficult puzzle to solve or a

potentially equal rival in a chess game.

At Harry's confused look, Dumbledore slid the day's Daily Prophet across

the table. Harry's eyes immediately found the article that Dumbledore

wanted him to see.

Hogwarts Students Elect Student Representative to School Board of

Governors

By Daily Journalist Penelope Clearwater

"No..." He whispered in disbelief. He hadn't signed up for that! He had

enough on his mind with the Family Estate, the political scene, subtly

fighting Voldemort and doing well in his classes, not to mention the other

things that were bothering him like the bodies of many of the seventh-

year girls and the tattered relationship with Ron and Hermione.

"But yes!" The old man said, delighted. "The students elected you because

they trust you to represent them well, much like you did yourself this

summer."

The twinkle in the man's eye infuriated Harry to no end. Then he realized

that Dumbledore didn't know that Harry and the Ministry planned to turn

their attention to his beloved school once the threat of snakeface was

removed. Harry felt a small chuckle building up in his chest.

He swiped his face with his hand and glared at the old man, wondering

what he was after this time. He understood Percy's loathing remarks and

the whispering students in the corridors much better now.

"Unfortunately, I must leave on Family Business, effective immediately."

He waved the Daily Prophet. "I look forward to discussing this in much,

much, more detail with you after my return."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Family Business,

but the merriment never left his face. "My door will always be open for

you, Lord Potter."

Harry ignored the mocking tone. "I require the use of your Floo."

After received a waved hand as permission, Harry departed from the

room without a glance back at the man, clutching the paper angrily in his

hand.

The perspicacious Headmaster stared at the now normal fire for a few

moments before sending a Patronus message to the Order members who

worked at the Ministry to keep their eyes open.

Tom's inactivity these past months has been very worrisome. He would not

pass up an opportunity to reap havoc on Halloween. And with his Halloween

luck, Harry will naturally be in the middle of it.

.

.

.

.

Harry rushed from the fireplace on the first floor of Potter Manor to the

library on the third floor.

He was definitely grateful to whichever ancestor Enchantress or

Enchanter who spelled the Grand Staircase, which connected all four

stories of the Manor above ground, to accelerate if the person appears in

a hurry. They even incorporated a soft landing at the end.

Bloody awesome, my ancestors.

He reached the library in record time - 17.5 seconds if he had been

counting. Three of his uncles were waiting for him, but only FC was

dressed in protective battle gear. His brothers both gave him a quick hug

before FC went to Harry.

"Are you ready?" He asked grasping Harry tightly on the shoulder.

The question made Harry realize just how nervous he was. He clamped

down on the feeling with his Occlumency. "I'm ready, but I think I should

wear something less… school-casual."

FC immediately reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of cloth

much like his own. He whispered to the cloth and placed it onto Harry's

school robes. A small draft hit Harry, and his robe slowly transformed

into those worn by FC. He suddenly felt as if he were cloaked in warm

shadows.

"Unspeakable-made, they are. You don't have to worry about minor to

mid-level curses, any elements, or your movements. The robes deflect all

of those. You can make yourself invisible or blend into shadows by

whispering 'hide'. If you don't to reveal your identity, just cover your

head with the hood. It even hides your magical signature."

Harry nodded his understanding. Hide and hood, pretty simple.

"There a few more tricks and features, but we don't have time to go

through all of them. My colleagues are already on site and have reported

that they're in place around the bastard's minions and are ready to begin

engaging."

Harry's Occlumency shields could not prevent the rush of adrenaline that

ran through him at those words.

"Before you go, Henry. I did some research on demons and the

Dementors." His Uncle Milton said before the two could leave. He

fumbled for a moment within his robe pockets before he withdrew a

scrap of paper. "This is an experimental addition to the Patronus. It

should be cast as you would your normal Patronus. I don't believe it will

be enough to destroy the Dementors, but it should be enough to give you

tell upper hand when you are battling many of the beasts at once."

Harry quickly read his uncle's barely legible script: Expecto Patronium

Ruqya.

Suddenly the scary researcher in his uncle came out. "Be sure to note how

the charm feels, how much power it demands, if it requires mental

coordination, or any other dissimilarities to your original Patronus! It

might even change fo-."

"We'll just have to have Henry give you a full synopsis of the battle."

Uncle Orville said rolling his eyes at his father's brother.

The older man crossed his eyes and seemed close to stamping his feet.

"You can't measure the power requirement of a spell in a memory, Willy!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Perhaps if you had taken Spell

Creation and Arithmancy instead of Finance Management, like I told you

too, you would know that, nephew."

Harry couldn't help but smile at their ages-old disagreement. FC was

shaking his head in amusement at their antics.

"Maybe if you had taken Finances, uncle, you would have kept your

sanity a few decades longer." Before the graying mathematician could

even open his mouth to respond, Orville spoke to the Harry and FC.

"Good luck, you two. Come back safely!"

FC nodded and led Harry by the shoulder back the way he had just come.

They flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, and FC used a special device to take

them straight through innumerable wards to his colleagues in the

shadows of the wizarding prison.

The eerie silence around them made him clutch his wand a bit tighter.

FC tapped his shoulder. He stuck a finger into his own mouth and then

his ear to Harry's confusion. Without warning, FC plunged the exact

finger into Harry's ear and dragged it quickly down his face to his mouth.

Harry's initial reaction was to jerk away in disgust and wipe the saliva

away. Instead of FC's saliva, he found a sleek string of some type

connecting a device in his ear to one near his mouth. And it wouldn't

budge.

"Can you hear me, Henry?" Harry nodded slowly. "We call it a spit-set. It

hides all communication between us and even the spells that we say out

loud." Both turned as they heard faint sounds like restless animals

moving behind bars. "We need to move forward."

Harry only trusted himself to nod and follow the man through the

shadows. He wondered how the British Unspeakables worked and if they

had similar gear. FC often spoke of the Americans and the Germans with

reverence. Apparently, the MSRS, American Magical Security and

Research Squad, and the German MAD Magische Abschirmdienst or

Magical Counter-intelligence Service were the most technologically

advanced worldwide with Australian, Canadian and China rounding up

the top five. All of which with more open policies towards their non-

magical counterparts.

Maybe Magical Britain will learn one day to embrace rather than spurn Non-

magical Britain. We cannot grow otherwise...

After a full minute of shadowing his uncle, Harry had a feeling that

something was missing.

"Wait." He said loudly. He covered his mouth in shock, forgetting

momentarily that only FC could hear him. He recovered quickly. "The

Dementors! Where are the Dementors?"

His uncle pointed towards a barred hole in the wall that his head barely

reached. Outside he could see the sea shimmering in the moonlight.

There they were, floating as if agitated by something or someone.

I wonder why they're outside the prison. Is that even allowed?

"Dementors tend to be very restless and agitated on Halloween. You

should ask Marty about it. He loves laughing at new theories about the

Demented Dementor Dilemma or whatever the hell they call it now."

Harry made to turn away from the window when all of the Dementors he

could see went still as one.

"This can't be good." He murmured.

"What's happening?" FC asked.

"I-I'm not sure." He tried to get a better view of the Dementors when the

entire prison trembled.

Rocks rained down from the ceiling and floors above on their heads.

Harry ducked his head as a rather large stone tumbled towards him. He

moved a moment too late and braced himself for the impact. The sharp

pain he prepared to face never came. He tentatively touched the top of

his hooded head and held a hand full of ash.

"Merlin… I'm definitely joining your Unspeakables when this shite is

over." He said jumping to his feet. FC laughed over the spit-set.

They charged through rubble and fleeing inmate toward something.

Harry's bones and mind told him they were going in the right direction.

They came to a stop where a few other similarly dressed Unspeakables

were gathering. They apparently were waiting on Harry and FC. There

was a moment where no words were said. Harry realized then that they

were indeed communicating with each other, but he could not hear them.

They all, including FC, also had their secrecy masks on.

After a full minute of this silent communication, FC turned to Harry. "We

will form a ritual circle around Riddle and attempt to weaken him so that

you can hit him with a few shots, the Family's Judgement spell should do

the most damage. He was spotted near the maximum security cells trying

to free the inmates there."

Harry nodded. They had gone through this before. There was a judgment

spell in the Potter Grimoire that only a virgin could cast. Harry assumed

he was the only virgin in the bunch. His Occlumency shields destroyed

the blush that would have certainly otherwise crept onto his face.

The group moved as one. Harry soon spoke the words to hide himself and

mask his magical signature. He knew that he had a strong magical

presence, and he was more than certain that snakeface would sniff him

out miles away.

Riddle stood in the middle of the hallway being praised by two of his

released followers. The stench of his twisted magic made Harry's stomach

turn.

"Our people are getting into position," FC said into the spit-set. "When I

give you the 'go', start casting as fast as you can."

Harry gave a grunt of acknowledgment. His hands were sweating, and he

was calling upon all of his mental focus to remember the words of the

spell. He could hear vague sounds of fighting on levels below and above.

He wondered briefly if the Death Eaters were battling the prison guards

or if Dumbledore's Order had been alerted so quickly.

"Now, Henry!"

Harry immediately gathered all his magic, infused it with some Family

Magik and chanted. The spell was basically an Olde Blessing but

reversed. It called on magic to judge - rather than bless - the target for

the harm done to his Family. Murdering the Lords and Lady of the Main

Line in cold blood should be more than enough. Harry added his own

spin to the spell. With snakeface's mutilation of his own soul and other

crimes against Magik herself, Harry felt that the impact of the spell

would be much stronger if he also called on the magic to judge this as

well.

His wand glowed a soft golden light in the beginning. After a full thirty

seconds of chanting, it was barely possible to look at it. Soon Harry was

forced to close his eyes as the light and his magic built up to an

unbelievable level.

With a shout, he released the spell at the unsuspecting Dark Lord. Harry

fell to his knees panting, not able to see if he had hit or not.

"WHAT ISSS THIS!" He heard snakeface bellow. "WHO DARESSS ATTACK

ME!"

Harry felt his heart drop. I've failed. Months of preparation for nothing. He

barely noticed FC and the other putting up a shield around themselves.

He cracked open a weary eye and saw snakeface swallowed in an orb of

beautiful golden light, his frightened followers trying to free him futilely.

The Dark wizard gave an ear-splitting scream of rage as the judgment fell

up him. Harry watched in amazement as snakeface's black magic was

being beat down by the golden orb. The black magic curled and fought

against the golden opponent wildly.

Voldemort's screams of anger turned into screams of pain and his body

seem to rock and shake uncontrollably. Harry saw then that the golden

light was seeping into Riddle's body. His robes, which had seemed to

have been made of darkness, were gone. Riddle was bare-ass for the

world to see.

Harry wanted to punch himself in the eyes, but FC and the other

Unspeakables began summoning their patronuses. He closed his eyes and

assessed how much power he had left. His core was not empty, but it

wasn't half full either. He wasn't sure if he could produce a corporeal

patronus now.

He shakily got to his feet, turning just in time to see the rutilant and

convulsing Dark Lord whisked away by one of his servants. One of the

Unspeakables cut down the other rather quickly. He really wished he

could have finished the bastard off, but there were still two horcruxes

they didn't have in their possession. There was one in Hogwarts, which

was still baffling the Unspeakables, and the one in Gringotts.

The Goblins were definitely terrible little, mammonistic creatures and

had swiftly reached second place on his "Shite List", tied with

Dumbledore. The little heathens did everything they could to prevent

Harry from even hinting at the item in their caves.

Their asses are the next to be kicked. We need to revolutionize and

democratize our economy anyway…

He stumbled around away from the raging battles around him. He was

pretty much useless at the moment and had done his duty. The Death

Eaters left behind were fighting a pretty one-sided battle against their

opponents. Harry could see a few people he recognized from the Order

meetings over the summer also fighting every now and then.

He tripped over a body lying on the ground and nearly fell through an

opening. He looked down into the moonlit night. He shook himself and

rolled out of the way.

He felt a hand touch his back firmly to steady him as the building rocked

once more. "You okay, Henry?"

Before Harry could even formulate a response, a Dementor suddenly flew

in through the opening in the prison's walls behind FC. Harry shakily

raised his wand but was too late. The Dementor yanked FC around and

kissed. Harry could only watch in pure disbelief as his Uncle was de-

souled. His mind and hands didn't appear to be connected. Useless.

The soulless body of his uncle dropped like a string-less puppet to the

ground.

The Dementor turned to him, but it met some sort of force field. Harry

still couldn't wrap his mind around what had just happened.

Harry could only stare at his uncle's body as the Dementor tried to fight

its way through to him. He felt pain unimaginable as if someone had cast

a Cruciatus Curse on his very soul.

"No. No. NO. NO!" With a roar of agony and rage, Harry cast the first

spell on his mind. "Expecto Patronium Ruqya!"

The unexpected force of the spell threw him back hard into the wall

behind him. He slid to the floor, magically spent and wracking with sobs.

Prongs pushed the Dementor back through the opening in the wall. Black

spots swam before Harry's eyes. He felt warm drops of a liquid slid down

his cheeks. He didn't even notice that he was weeping.

The Dementor gave an ear-numbing screech as Prongs mauled it. It was

torn to pieces before his very eyes by the holy light. He barely noted

loudly commanding Prongs to get rid of the rest of the beasts.

Harry turned away, his focus on FC...

Too weak to wipe the tears from his own eyes, Harry could only slowly

crawl toward his fallen uncle and lay down beside him.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't fast or strong enough."

The darkness before his eyes became too heavy to fight. Just before the

darkness claimed him, he heard a raspy voice nearby.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I got you."

.

.

AN. Thank you all for your marvelous support. This is my longest chapter

yet! The reviews and favorites are just so many that I had to write more.

However, if I get another reviewer asking if this will truly be a Harmony,

I will cry. This will be ultimately HHr, and again, without too much focus

on ship.

Expecto Patronium Ruqya - Ruqya is an Islamic ritual that cleanses a body

of dark witchcraft. Combined with the pureness of a Patronus being, it

destroys the darkness within a Dementor… which is their entire being.

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

11. Chapter 11: Familia super

omnia

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Chapter Eleven: Familia super omnia...

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There was a resounding, surprised silence in the dimly lit hallway.

"That kid has mettle." One of the Ministry guards murmured as Ms.

Granger stormed off away from the, now, restricted Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore found himself stunned by the girl's actions and more than

unable to agree with the Auror - Daniel Saphus, Ravenclaw Class of '87. A

budding Charms Master, if I remember correctly... He was rarely wrong.

He swallowed his anger. He was more than a bit annoyed with the

situation in his school over the two weeks following the Battle of

Azkaban. Although he never showed more than his usual eccentric and

professional congeniality, his fury burned deep.

He was not used to being challenged in his own territory. Now, multiple

Olde Families were making inquiries into the day-to-day activities of the

school and using their family members still within the school as spies.

Aurors were guarding sections of the school, inspecting every dusty

corner of his school for Death Eaters and reporting to all and sundry

about Hogwarts affairs, all under the auspices of protecting the children.

Even the school children felt emboldened enough to physically assault me, he

grumbled mentally. How the times have changed.

Of course, Ms. Granger was not the only one ready to strike him simply

because he insisted that Madame Pomfrey place young Harry in a potion-

induced coma. After he insisted on no visitation under any circumstances,

the Potters had declared an all-out media war on Dumbledore.

The sudden appearance of image-damaging exposes in numerous regional

and international newspapers was definitely not coincidental. Each

chronicled the darkest secrets of Dumbledore's history: his past with

Grindelwald, his manipulations within the international and national

governments, and every single incident that occurred during his tenure as

Headmaster. They had even revealed the fact that he had perfect vision

and only used his half-moon glasses to see through walls, doors, and

enchantments within the school.

That had caused many parents to protest for their children's privacy. He

received so many Howlers the days following that particular article that

he had to put up an owl redirecting ward and have the house elves

continually check the room where his mail was being redirected to.

Fears of an escalation led to Minister Longbottom stationing more Aurors

being inside and outside the school after several futile attempts to have

Dumbledore to turn over Mr. Potter to the Potters before they ended up

declaring war on the Ministry.

Lady Regnant Potter had already all but declared her intentions in an

open letter to the Wizengamot.

The only thing keeping the Potters from bringing Magical Britain to its knees is

Tom's desperate, guerrilla warfare on the muggle population. At least Tom is

rumored to be severely injured at the moment.

He felt a familiar headache blooming as he contemplated this new,

multiplayer battlefield so dissimilar to the one-front war of the last Blood

War. And Ms. Granger has a rather heavy hand.

His two-weeks-old headache had begun with a panicked floo call from

Poppy. St Mungo's policy for any current or recently graduated students

taken to their hospital was to ask Madame Pomfrey about their medical

records before they began with their healing treatment. This time, the

hospital asked for the records of one Lord Henry James Potter.

Lords and Ladies were not to be healed without familial consent, and

Poppy was only brought in thereafter if the family so requested. The

typical policy would be to inform the Lord's Lady, but since Lord Potter

was not married they skipped that step.

Thank Merlin. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have never found out about

the secret mission at Azkaban, its repercussions or the opportunities it

brought with it.

A small guffaw from behind him quickly reminded him that he was not

alone and that he had stood, stunned, in the same spot for quite some

time.

Dumbledore excused himself from the two snickering Aurors and quickly

made his way to the Great Hall. He would have preferred not leaving the

men unattended. Such a Ministry presence was unprecedented in

Hogwarts' history and bespoke the fundamental change in his influence

in Britain.

And now the Potters are applying more and more pressure. For the past week

and following her letter to the Wizengamot, Dumbledore received daily

letters from the Lady Henriette Potter requesting information on her Lord

Potter. Well, what began as information requests had evolved into thinly-

veiled threats to return him to his family immediately.

If she had wanted to be reached in emergencies, she should not have put up

owl wards. Granted, the few confounding charms I used on the owl delivering

the letter should also be taken into account…

Emancipated Lord, young Harry might be, but he had no documented

blood family in Britain. His mother's family had been muggles and,

thanks to Delores Umbridge, no longer amongst the living. His nearest

blood family in Britain were the Blacks, but Dumbledore did not give the

St. Mungo's staff the time to dig deep enough into the Ministry lineage

records to figure that out.

Thank Merlin Harry's Black Heirship is not well-known.

Since the Lady Regnant Potter had been unavailable after the battle, and

Harry's godfather had no say unless there was no Potter family

whatsoever available, a small custody vacuum was created. Dumbledore

quickly used the confusion to act in loco parentis as Lord Potter's

headmaster and order his transfer to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore gave himself a mental pat on the back in congratulation for

a loophole well seized.

It was technically very illegal. The unlawful confinement of a Lord,

especially one of multiple Houses, could bring upwards of ten years in

Azkaban. It was well worth the risk. He had simply had no other choice.

He was not used to being left in the dark regarding the political goings-

on in England. Young Harry had managed to sideline and trump him so

well, and in such a thorough manner, that Dumbledore no longer knew

what was happening in his country.

And who's to say that Harry has been telling me all I should know? I certainly

wouldn't in his position.

After Harry's last visit to Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore was not able to

shake the feeling that Harry had not been telling him the entire truth.

There were a few ends of this story that were just too perfectly tied up.

Even though his subtle questioning of some higher up Ministry officials

had revealed the same, if watered down, information, his gut feeling told

him otherwise.

That was all going to change now.

In one risky swoop, Dumbledore had reset the entire board of the

political game. He had the Potters isolated from their Lord and safely

outside of the castle wards. He had Harry in his possession and on a

mentally weakening potion's regime. He had the Minister at bay by

granting her a historical concession of stationing ten Aurors in Hogwarts.

And the media campaign against him was being met with silent

resilience. He looked forward to using that against the Ministry and the

Potters once he had Harry under his control.

What must be done, must simply be done.

The sudden ringing of the dinner bell pulled him out of his reverie and

made him jump somewhat.

Maybe I should talk to Minerva about reducing that penetrating sound.

He briefly considered making himself invisible to the children so that he

could get to the Great Hall undisturbed. However, he observed the awe

and reverence in which the youngest students were regarding him,

despite the negative media, and decided against the disillusionment. It

was a pleasant feeling - being the role model to an entire generation -

and as such for multiple Hogwarts generations.

For every few angry letters he had received in response to the news

articles, he still received one or two supporting him and condemning the

newspapers and Ministry for being repugnant, deceitful and hateful.

Nothing had touched him more.

Dumbledore quickly and subtly expanded his aura to an impressive level.

He soon felt a tight pressure on his magical core and immediately

grabbed the handle of his Elder wand in his sleeve to help him maintain

the magic.

For all of his endless prowess with a wand - Elder or his original one -

time and age were still factors for all great wizards, including him. He

was definitely no longer able to wield wandless magic with great

abandon. His mental prowess and creativity had not waned but his spells

lacked the punch they had once had in his prime.

It was one of the reasons why he had yet to retire the Elder wand, a

horrid and constant reminder of his former lover. The legend of the three

brothers, especially of the death stick, was still told to young wizardlings

at night. Dumbledore had thought about whispering into a few ears the

improbability of there being such a thing, but he had wisely decided

against it. To take such a concrete stance on a children's bedtime story

should be beneath someone of his stature - and would unnecessarily fuel

conspiracy flames to unbearable degrees.

Harry's painfully accurate description of it at Grimmauld Place still

bewildered him to this day.

How in Merlin's beard had the boy known? That will be the first thing I look

for when I open his mind.

Since he had had no major accomplishments since his defeat of Gellert,

he was careful not to bring too much unsavory attention to himself.

His waning star was one of the many reasons he had taken an active

interest in young Harry's life. Harry's defeat of Voldemort at the tender

age of one paralleled in many ways his own defeat of his dear Gellert.

Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to read all correspondence written

to the young Potter in the years following that fateful Halloween night

and saw the similarities to the pleas and well-wishes in his own

correspondence following Grindelwald's defeat in 1945.

Though he had never shared this with another person, it had frightened

and bothered him endlessly. The fear had weighed upon him in the

months following Tom's defeat until he truly believed he would be not

looked to for advice. Even the perpetual, awe-struck looks of his students

were no longer as present as before.

It was then that he came up with the brilliant plan that had dictated all

of his interactions with Harry thereafter. He would become the new Lord

of the Light's guardian and mentor. Where necessary, he set everything

up so that, upon Harry's re-arrival in their world, the boy would look to

him and only him for guidance. The abuse that Harry faced under his

relatives' care, Harry's interactions with Weasley's and other adoring

followers of his, the limited interaction with others in the Wizarding

World and his limited knowledge of the world and his place within had

all been part of his plan to endear Harry to himself.

And it had been successful.

He lived on through Harry. If anyone had wanted contact with or

information on their child savior, they had had to go through

Dumbledore first. When people mentioned the feats of one, they usually

mentioned the other's shortly thereafter. He was fairly sure that if Harry

were to survive his final confrontation with Tom, Dumbledore would not

only go acclaimed in history due to his victory over Grindelwald but also

twice-fold with his mentoring of Harry Potter, Defeater of the Dark Lord

Voldemort.

Harry might even name a son after me! He thought generously.

Dumbledore knew his time as "Lord of the Light" was at an end, but at

least he could endear his successor to him and live on through him. The

world needed them to guide and protect those who were too weak and

weak-minded to protect themselves. Dumbledore was doing his part for

wizard-kind.

As the crowds of students parted in waves before of him, as if he were

Merlin incarnate, Dumbledore knew he had made the right choices all of

those years ago. Sirius' unlawful incarceration had slid comfortably out of

his purview and off his radar - he truly had known nothing about Sirius'

innocence, he merely ignored an unnecessary bother - and Harry Potter

had looked up to him more and more each year.

At least until James' family came into the picture.

Under his impeccable, grandfatherly facade, Dumbledore burned once

more with rage.

The Potters had destroyed all of his many years of planning, positioning

and hard work over the course of one single summer. Harry had no

longer looked up to him and even worked to spite him. But by allowing

Harry to partake in the Battle of Azkaban, they had unknowingly given

Dumbledore the golden opportunity to salvage some of his plans and

correct their misdirection.

Now all I have to do is wait.

Once the potions he ordered Poppy to give Harry took effect and lowered

his mental capacity, Dumbledore would be able to destroy the mental

walls around his declared successor's mind and imprint the adoring and

proper behavior fitting of his next Lord of the Light.

A genuine smile graced his face as he nodded to some students leaving

the Charms study room. Ms. Granger's physical assault was nearly

forgotten as Dumbledore walked slowly through the masses and allowed

the looks of admiration from his other pupils wash over him.

If it weren't for the steady stream of owls pouring in with an hourly tact,

the constant attacks on the wards, and, of course, the presence of Aurors

in his domain, he would be completely at peace with the current

situation.

Daily, the ward stones and stone guardians of Hogwarts reported a rather

strong and insistent testing of the outer wards by unidentified

individuals. Dumbledore still wasn't sure if it was from Death Eaters or

the Potters since the Death Eater activity had increased at the same time

of his acquisition of Harry.

It wouldn't matter anyway. Neither has the ability to break through the

centuries-old wards, and neither would dare to do so while I'm headmaster.

His pensive grandstanding was abruptly disturbed as Minerva called out

to him from the Grand Stairway.

"Headmaster!" She spoke as she moved quickly into his path. "I've just

received a floo from Minister Longbottom. She will be arriving in mere

moments to discuss Mr. Potter's well-being."

Over a century of hiding his emotions was the only thing that kept

Dumbledore from groaning outright. Of course, she would be. The daily

missives were not enough. How he missed her malleable and puppet-like

predecessors. At least he could turn them away when they became too

bothersome.

Dumbledore was not, however, able to keep the exasperation out of his

voice. "Surely our honorable Minister would not deprive an old man of

his repast."

Minerva's mouth formed a rather impressively thin line. It was amazing

how often he forgot that his grandfatherly persona had no effect on the

old tigress.

"Your belly has been thoroughly cared for over five decades, Albus

Percival Wulfric Brian! We have all been waiting patiently for two weeks

on any news about Mr. Potter. Poppy has been turning people away left

and right on your orders. Unless you want this to go to the Wizengamot,

you will receive the Minister!" She whispered furiously.

Her anger was so corporeal that students nearby instinctually put more

distance between themselves and their Transfiguration professor. Her

temper was possibly even more legendary than his aura.

He extended his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Minny-."

"Don't you dare 'Minny' me! You will b-"

Her tirade was suddenly cut short as the entire area shook violently. It

felt as if a horde of giants were shaking the castle out of its very

foundations. Stones and debris rained down from the ceilings and walls

showering all beneath in a deadly cloud of rubble. Three of the magical

staircases above him crashed into one another bringing more stones

tumbling.

A quick check of the castle's wards deemed them all intact. Whatever was

causing the quakes must be coming from within.

The quakes stopped just as suddenly as they had begun. Dumbledore

doubted the quakes had lasted more than five seconds.

With no time to further examine the wards, Dumbledore's wand was

instantly out and creating a physical shield over the heads of the students

in the Entrance Hall. He heard screaming from all sides, and students

were running in all directions, knocking one another over. Portraits along

the stairwell were falling and their inhabitants hurrying to other portraits

before they were destroyed by falling stones.

Dumbledore quickly discarded the idea to reduce the heavier stones to

their basic components since the larger ones might be needed to rebuild

later on. He hoped the students not in his vicinity were unharmed, but he

knew it was most likely not the case. He could see some of the older

students protecting themselves and the younger ones. Quite a few were

injured in some way or another.

After vanishing the dust particles, and with a mighty, two-handed heave

of the Elder wand, Dumbledore guided the heaviest stones to an

uninhabited area of the hall.

"Minerva, all students are to go the nearest designated shelter. Great Hall

or common rooms!" Those were the only areas in the castle - besides the

Headmaster's office - that were truly fortified against natural disasters

like earthquakes. They were rare but had occurred at odd times over the

past millennium.

Minerva wasted no time in casting a Sonorous and a school-wide

communication spell.

"All students are to head to the Great Hall or their common rooms. All House

Heads should head to their respective common rooms. All other faculty and

Aurors please head to the Great Hall! Please do so quickly and calm-."

A resounding boom from the direction - from which Dumbledore had just

come - cut her off once more. The castle shook once more though not on

the same scale as before. Dumbledore was suddenly reminded of the

muggle bombings during their last World War and his war with

Grindelwald.

The deputy headmistress turned to her boss for further instruction only to

see the ends of his sparkling turquoise robes cutting through the air as he

ran around students in the direction of the loud noise. She shook her

head and began assisting the injured students on the stairs.

Dumbledore's wand never stayed still as he rushed to where the internal

wards were alerting him to major damage. He quickly bandaged bleeding

students, moved more of the falling large stones to protect and free up

the egress of fleeing students, and pulled precariously loose, hanging

fixtures, stones and other things that could harm his students and staff -

or himself- down and out of the way all while running at a breakneck

speed..

He halted as he stumbled upon the bloody and crushed form of a third-

year student. Adelaide Brook. His heart broke at the sight of the talented,

pureblooded girl... dead for no reason other than being in the wrong place at

the wrong time. After a moment of contemplation, he called for the Head

House-elf, Tubby.

"Master Headmaster?" The creature said as it popped in. Its already large

eyes went wider at the sight of the dead student, and its floppy ears

drooping slowly in mourning.

"Send a team of your fastest and strongest elves to scout the corridors for

other… fallen students or staff." He commanded with haste. He paused,

internal morals conflicting the expectations of his responsibilities as

Headmaster. "Please adhere to the Olde Ways when handling the

deceased. Place them in the antechambers of the Great Hall!"

Tubby nodded rapidly and snapped his fingers as Dumbledore rushed off

in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore was purely against the Druid-inspired and traditional Olde

ways especially when they pertained to funeral rites. Bodies were to be

de-clothed and cleaned of all internal and external impurities before they

were covered with a white sheet made of pure magic in preparation for

the Ritual of Eternal Life. Most dark and traditional Families still

practiced cremation by means of a funeral pyre, where the magical

residue within the blood and body of the deceased, freed by means of the

cremation, was re-absorbed by living family members. For the past

century, only the lightest of Families buried their dearly departed.

It was nothing but magical cannibalism! Barbaric Necromancy! Absorbing the

magic of the deceased should never be allowed.

The rituals had been practiced often in Grindelwald's War since he

attacked many of the traditional families Europe-wide who practiced

such barbarism. Dumbledore found himself the unfortunate participant of

such a ritual at his son's and wife's funeral. It was organized by his wife's

family, the Stewards, a branch of the famous Sayre family that returned

to England after Isolt Sayre founded the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft

and Wizardry.

All traumatic thoughts of the past were quickly torn from his mind as he

turned the corner to the hospital wing. His mouth moved wordlessly, and

his blood chilled.

The Hospital Wing simply was no more.

Water leaked from the pipes that ran through the ceiling. The entirety of

the two walls that overlooked the school grounds had exploded outwards

and were no more. A cool November wind chilled the area but was not

the reason for his visible shudder.

A glowing, green Dark Mark offered a gruesome illumination into who

was behind the atrocity.

"Headmas-. Good Merlin!" Dumbledore felt and heard Severus coming to a

running stop behind him. The sallow, black-haired man nearly dropped

his wand at the sight of the heartbreaking carnage that he had walked

into.

Dumbledore waved his wand in a complex manner and frowned. He

wasn't able to remove the Dark Mark glowing even more brightly now as

if mocking his efforts. This isn't a typical Dark Mark, he noted as he

expanded his magic. The Mark was tethered to something or someone.

Growling in frustration, Dumbledore turned his attention and wand to

identifying any survivors. He cast a seemingly endless chain of spells and

picked up six human forms in the area, excluding himself and Severus.

He did quick maths and calculated that the lifeless four forms by the

entrance belonged to the four Aurors who had been sent to guard Mr.

Potter - two inside and two outside the door - yet all were within the

room now for some reason. Two other individuals were buried under

rubble near where the beds would have been… where Mr. Potter had lain.

"Severus, there!" He pointed his wand toward where his spells picked up

the only sign of life among the fallen in the area.

Dumbledore expertly moved stones, beds and other rubble to the side

where no bodies were located, praying simultaneously to any and all

gods that Mr. Potter - no, Lord Potter - had survived the attack.

Severus as at his side almost instantaneously. "On three, slowly…"

Dumbledore instructed. "One… two… THREE."

"Wingardium leviosa." The two wizards intoned as one.

With much care, the heavy stones were slowly lifted off of-.

"Ms. Granger? I thought the wing to be guarded off!" Severus murmured

more to himself than to Dumbledore after the stones had been laid to the

side and his silent concentration was no longer required for casting.

Dumbledore felt the world spin before his eyes as the realization sunk in

that Harry Potter was either dead or, more likely, in the hands of Lord

Voldemort. His shoulders sunk as the gravity of the situation weighed

upon him.

This… this can't be! Everything was perfectly planned!

A heavy silence descended over the two as Dumbledore was lost in his

grave thoughts about the repercussions of the attack, and Severus, the

only of the two with extensive healing experience, did what he could to

save the life of the tenacious girl.

Thousands of helpless thoughts, fears, and possible impacts flooded

Dumbledore's mind. He had ultimately lost everything: the chance to

guide Harry back onto the path planned by him, the chance to save the

Wizarding World from the approaching darkness… the chance to live on

through Harry's legacy.

"Oh Poppy," Severus said with much, untypical emotion coating his voice.

Dumbledore turned and confirmed what his calculations suspected.

Dumbledore's troubled heart fell apart as he gazed upon the twisted form

of one of his oldest and closest confidants lying near Ms. Granger.

Oh Poppy, indeed… I'm sorry, my dear. I should have been able to protect

you.

He kneeled and gently closed her pained eyes right before Tubby popped

in to transport her to the antechamber.

Not a moment later, Dumbledore felt the outer wards register and admit

five visitors through the castle gates, one of which had Minister

Longbottom's magical signature... and one with Lady Black's.

His weeks-old headache returned with such a ferocity that he knew it

could not be coincidental. He looked up through the destroyed ceiling

and through Tom's monstrosity to the gray, eventide sky in a silent plea

to any listening deity.

He heard the rapidly approaching footsteps of Lady Black, the Minister,

and the Minister's Auror entourage before his plea could be answered -

and maybe as a spiteful answer to his appeal as well.

I was so close… Poppy had mentioned to him just that morning that the

potion would have opened young Harry's mind to him within two days'

time.

With great effort, Dumbledore righted himself. He took in the fearful and

confused faces and, without any prompt, reported absentmindedly what

he knew.

"WHAT!?" The Minister's voice reverberated through that section of the

castle, shaking bits of dust from the already loosened stones.

Lady Black was rendered speechless and gaping for the first time in his

presence. Under other circumstances, Dumbledore would have made a

snarky comment about flies. This was however neither the time nor the

place for such vitriol.

He merely hung his head in defeat and accepted the abuse that began

pouring from the two powerful women. He knew there was much, much

more to come once the story broke.

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.

On the opposite end of the island, a raven-haired Lady overlooked the

immaculate grounds of her family's well-warded manor with a half-

drunk, calming draught in her hand. The sun had barely set in

Gloucestershire as the door to the Lord - now Lady's - Study opened to

admit her uncle.

She turned to look her uncle in the eye. "Was the mission successful?"

He merely nodded.

She exhaled slowly and swallowed the rest of her potion. The shaking of

her hands let up after a moment or two.

The first part of the plan was a success - though she refused to ask how

much collateral damage there was. The second part would see her as the

star in the media drama. This is where she would shine. The Potter Way

declared that if a Potter Lord or Lady were incapacitated for over two

weeks, the Lord or Lady Regnant was to be declared the new Lord or

Lady pending the acceptance of the Branch Heads.

She gave a small contented sigh, noticing only peripherally her uncle's

abrupt departure.

FC had been against the plan from the beginning, being against any

unnecessary bloodshed and completely loyal to their incapacitated Lord

Potter.

Henriette was taught, as was Henry, that sometimes a Lord or Lady had

to be willing to sacrifice everything for their family. Their health, their

magic, their happiness or their life even…

Henry would forgive her. Familia super omnia. That was their new Potter

family motto, chosen by Henry himself.

"Family over everything - even you, Harry." She whispered before she

headed to the dining hall to inform the family staying at the manor of the

news.

She gave the room a once-over. The letters for the Prophet, for other

newspapers and for the rest of the family would be sent out tomorrow.

They lay on the desk, prepared for the family, press, and public - tear-

stained and pre-written with emotional words of mourning.

She lifted her chin, her beautiful black hair cascading over her shoulders,

and closed the door to her Study. She was ready to be Lady Potter.

.

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AN: This chapter was inspired by my reviewers, especially NakedFury

and Stormbow. I had a terrible writer's block, and their reviews were

more than enough to get me going.

To all of my reviewers… gods, you guys are awesome. So much creative

feedback. Thank you all!

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

12. Chapter 12: Of the Mind

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Chapter Twelve: Of the Mind...

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The night following the attack on Hogwarts and the kidnapping of Lord

Potter was the longest Neville Longbottom had ever experienced.

Hogwarts was supposed to be impenetrable. The general consensus

among the wizarding populace was that as long as Dumbledore was

Headmaster, no-one would ever dare attack the school.

Boy, were they wrong.

Most students spent the evening and night within the Great Hall listening

to the hundreds of theories as to what happened the night before. No

professor or Prefect enforced the lights out curfew since they had all been

on high alert after their impromptu, late-night meeting with Headmaster

Dumbledore. Neville had never seen the man so downtrodden and

perturbed. He looked… broken and so unlike the super-being that he was

rumored to be.

He had informed them all that there had been an attack on the castle by

Death Eaters and that he had activated the war wards which prohibited

movement into and out of the castle. The professors had been given all-

night rotation duty, Heads of House were to stay in the dorms with the

students still there, and the Prefects were asked to keep a vigilant eye on

their fellow students in the Great Hall before the Headmaster abruptly

ended the meeting. The students still in the Common Rooms had just

been brought down by their Heads in the morning for breakfast.

So Neville was not surprised by a harried-looking McGonagall's morning

declaration to the general student population that You-Know-Who was

behind the assault on the castle and that further information would be

provided after breakfast.

It had ruined his appetite immediately.

"Where do you think Dumbledore is?" Ronald Weasley asked with his

mouth full. His usual, terrible table manners disgusting those sitting near

him. As usual, Neville noted aside.

A growl bubbled in the back of Neville's throat as he spoke what was on

his mind. "The real question is: how can you stuff your face when so

many of us are injured or missing?" His disgust at the red-head

gormandizing across from him was visibly evident.

The freckled boy frowned at the unexpected response from the normally

timid teen and swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "Starving m'self won't help

anything!"

Neville and several others around them snorted in disbelief.

Neville turned away from his insipid classmate and stared out of the

painted windows wondering if the injured students were being healed in

the Hospital Wing or if they were taken to St. Mungo's. Each house table

was missing a substantial number of students, more than the number of

beds in the Hospital Wing.

I hope Hermione is ok.

His bushy-haired companion of several months had taken Harry's

hospitalization very hard. Neville assumed she was overwhelmed by guilt

for ignoring him since the beginning of the school year.

He had tried to explain to her the ways of Family Magik many times, but

she was stubborn in her belief that if Harry were truly interested in her

that he would be able to see through it.

Neville knew such to be hogwash, but try as he might, he could not get

the girl to see reason. He hated seeing the distraught looks that Harry

had cast in her direction. Neville had been so fed up with Hermione on

Halloween, after seeing a particularly heart-wrenching look from Harry,

that he told her she had to approach Harry soon and talk to him directly.

Apparently, she had been moments too late.

Harry's disappearance from the castle had gone unnoticed by most until

the Daily Prophet's Morning Edition had declared him the victor of the

Battle of Azkaban. Hermione had had to be sent to the Hospital Wing for

calming draughts once classes had ended that day. Unfortunately, that

did nothing to help her since, as she angrily informed Neville afterward,

Harry had been transferred from St. Mungo's to Hogwarts at that time,

and she had been forbidden to see him.

Neville remembered humorously the rampage she had gone on. She

refused to answer questions in classes and even disrespected the

Headmaster to his face since it was under his orders that Harry was not

allowed visitation. Neville wondered if she had even registered that

Professor McGonagall had given her a point for speaking her mind since

she, in the same breath, had put Hermione on Prefect probation for

disorderly conduct.

"NEVILLE!" Someone whispered loudly.

He shook his head and turned to the garrulous Lavender Brown, who was

impatiently waving her hand in front of his face.

"What?"

The girl flipped her hair over her shoulders as if she were modeling for a

fashion magazine.

It's as if no one cares that students are missing and that we were attacked last

night!

"I was just wondering if you knew where Hermione is." She said with

small, flirty smile. "She's the only Gryffindor girl missing in our year."

Neville was momentarily taken aback by her question followed by

astounded and finally utterly disgusted. It was clear to him that Lavender

believed Hermione to have had some part in the attack and was fishing

for juicy details to share with all and sundry. Usually, whenever Harry

was in trouble, Hermione was right there as well.

"If you want to know if she was harmed or killed last night so can go

gossip to your little air-headed friends, you will have to wait until

McGonagall announces it!" He all but barked at her.

She flinched back as if physically struck by his words before she rushed

off to the other end of the table.

"Hey! That was not called for, mate!" The freckled food-bin across from

him uttered in shock. "She was just curious."

If it weren't for the arrival of the morning post, Neville would have

reached across the table and decked the idiot. He settled for a murderous

glare since he could also feel the eyes of Professor Weasley on him from

the head table.

There was complete silence as the owls landed and the Daily Prophet was

opened quickly by all.

Suddenly someone sniffled and a small boy in Hufflepuff began weeping

aloud. He had received a black owl, meaning a family member of his had

died. The floodgates opened and more students began crying, gasping

and speaking about what they were reading either from letters or in the

Prophet. Neville peered over Seamus' shoulders, with Dean Thomas and

two fourth-years, to get a good look at the front page.

Neville's blood chilled as soon as he saw the destroyed state of the

Hospital Wing and the ominously glowing Dark Mark on one of the large

pictures.

DEATH EATER ATTACK ON HOGWARTS

11 Students and 2 Staff members killed! Many injured!

LORD POTTER KIDNAPPED!

By Cemble Shuffleton

Last night, the nightmare every parent feared since the return of He-Who-

Must-Not-Be-Named came true. Hogwarts was attacked from within!

As Minister Longbottom announced in a press conference this morning, "At

approximately 5:30 in the evening, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and

Wizardry was shaken, literally, by a dastardly attack on the Hospital Wing.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has informed me that as of this morning, ten

young wizards and witches lost their lives due to falling rocks and other cave-

ins. The Hogwarts wards are still intact, so we believe the attack happened

from within."

This reporter reports that since the time of the conference, one more student,

who had been rushed to St. Mungos, passed away in the Intensive Care Unit.

The Minister went on to state that the Dark Mark, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named's brand, and trademark, hovered over the scene of the crime as seen in

the picture above.

Ministry investigators unanimously agreed that the attack on the school was

first and foremost a kidnapping attempt on Lord Henry (Harry) James Potter,

age 15, whose controversial transfer from St. Mungo's to Hogwarts Hospital

wing following the Battle of Azkaban on Headmaster Dumbledore's order has

generated waves of disquisition from the Wizengamot to the Hogwarts Board

of Governors. (See pages 5-9 for a summary of the discussions and minutes

from the meetings).

When questioned this morning as to why he went against the Potter Family's

wishes and brought the wrath of You-Know-Who upon the school (See pages

10-12 for Lady Regnant Henriette Potter's heartrending appeals to Headmaster

Dumbledore and to the Wizengamot for the release of her Head of Family into

her care), Headmaster Dumbledore responded cryptically.

"Young Harry - excuse me, Lord Potter - was guaranteed the best of care in

his fourteen years under my custodianship. Unfortunately, his importance to

our world is more crucial than bending to the whims of foreign individuals

who have known him for all of five months."

Neville skimmed the next few paragraphs since they only mentioned

Harry and Dumbledore, as well a summary of Harry's remarks at the

impromptu summer session of the Wizengamot where he had been put on

trial. He soon stumbled upon the name he had been desperately looking

for five paragraphs later.

Among the 31 students transferred to St. Mungo's for healing was one Ms.

Hermione Granger, the muggleborn friend of Lord Potter. According to reliable

sources, Ms. Granger was found within the Hospital Wing and her wand was

registered having used many defensive and violent spells, most likely to protect

the bedridden Lord Potter from his attackers. A powerful heroine for a

powerful hero.

St. Mungos reports that Ms. Granger was hit with a powerful stunning spell

and later crushed by fallen rocks. Our muggleborn heroine was listed in

critical condition as of this morning. (For a full list of deceased and injured

students, see page 3. For more on Lord Potter's relationship with Ms. Granger,

see the reprint of Rita Skeeter's article from February on page 12)

Neville collapsed in his seat.

Harry had been abducted by Death Eaters, and Hermione lay in critical

condition at St. Mungo's. His mind could barely wrap itself around that

information.

"So. Do you know where Hermione is? I still need her help with Charms."

Ron's gobbled question breached Neville's shock. "It's nice that you hang

around her and all because Harry won't, but she's still my bookworm."

The redhead's attempt at a joke instantly pushed him into a rage. Neville

saw red and everything blurred.

He was not aware of propelling himself over the table to clobber the red-

head, sending food and people nearby flying out of the way. He just

remembered knocking the boy off the bench, landing on top of him,

holding red hair in one fist and hitting with the other.

It took three professors, two repelling spells and a petrification spell to

get him off of the, now, unconscious and bloodied boy beneath him. He

barely heard the blathering of Professor Weasley about his imminent

arrest and expulsion. He didn't even notice the arrival of anxious and

mourning parents picking up their children, living or deceased.

When his grandmother appeared with her Auror Guard and demanded to

know why he was bloodied and petrified, he wasn't even aware that he

wandlessly broke the spell.

He stunned everyone by righting himself, lifting his chin and speaking

directly and formally to his grandmother.

"Mr. Weasley disrespected and insulted the honor of Ms. Granger, a

friend of our House and of our sibling House Potter. If he were not

bloodied and beaten on the ground, I would challenge him to a Wizards

Duel with no quarter!" Neville spat upon the ground by the redhead.

His gran gave him a shrewd look and turned primly to the shocked elder

redhead. "Please inform your Lady Prewitt that House Longbottom will

be in touch." She grabbed Neville gently yet firmly by the shoulder and

steered him out of the Great Hall.

As they left the castle, and without turning to him, she said simply, "Your

parents would be proud of the loyal friend and upright man their baby

has become. I surely am."

For the first time in his life, he felt a deeper connection to his

grandmother beside that of blood. He only wished he could have made

her proud without breaking his hand and without having two friends in

precarious conditions.

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As the sad news broke at Hogwarts and at other breakfast tables in the

UK, a certain Dark Lord was fuming in his manor.

His Death Eaters were avoiding him as best as they could. The young

recruit who thought he would be higher in the Dark Lord's favor if he

were the first to bring the news to his Lord ended up a twitching mess on

the cold, stone floor when his Lord was finished releasing his anger.

Voldemort merely kicked the pathetic boy out of his pacing path.

Who dares operate outside of my orders!

He wouldn't put it past one of his more lower ranking Death Eaters to try

and curry his favor by kidnapping his nemesis. But breaking into

Hogwarts belied skills that only his highest, most favored Death Eaters

would possess.

His initial thought was that the entire attack was a manipulation

concocted by the old fool Dumbledore to focus Voldemort's attention

elsewhere. However, his logical side kicked in. It was impossible for

anyone other than his marked servants to cast the Dark Mark. He had put

a safeguard in place for exactly such a situation. He also was receiving

word from his followers with children that the injuries and deaths of the

students were not being faked. If there was one thing that old fool would

never do, it was deliberately and willing kill his own charges.

The old man despised bloodshed above all else, especially that of the

young and innocent. It was single-handedly due to him that Voldemort's

current followers were not killed after his demise in '81. Dumbledore had

insisted that they all be imprisoned and re-socialized instead.

At some point, I will have to send him a "thank you" card… preferably pinned

to the smoking corpse of one of his Order members.

It wasn't a bad idea at all. I'll give Bella the mission. She's been looking bit

sulky at the lack of high profile killings lately.

He knew she wasn't the only one. Since the Battle of Azkaban, as the

papers were calling it, he found himself unable to wield magic as he had

since his resurrection. He had his most loyal researching the curse that

thrice-damned Potter had cast on him. So far the research bore no fruit

whatsoever.

Due to the curse, he found himself unable to cast any magic that would

harm or kill others. Some spells left him drained, whereas the darkest

spells ended up harming him painfully as well. Most of his other, non-

dark spells were just as powerful as before. It was just the Dark Magic.

A Dark Lord who can't wield Dark Magik cannot be rightfully called such. It is

disgraceful!

Even crucioing the foolish recruit had left him feeling as if he had single-

handedly raised the fabled Atlantis.

It was imperative that he regained his strength immediately. If there

were dissenters in his ranks, he had to weed them out and publicly

punish them in the presence of his remaining followers, otherwise, the

rebellion would spread quickly.

He would have preferred to kill any and all dissenters among his

followers, but following dear old Gussy's rather accurate pamphlet to all

of Magical England about his parentage and background, recruitment had

decreased severely. He had also suddenly lost most of his powerful and

rich followers in the aftermath of Lucius' trial and the Death Eater purge

that had swiftly followed. Many of his marked followers in the Ministry

went mysteriously missing all at once a few days after the trial.

It was not a mystery in all honesty.

He had viciously punished all of them through their Dark Marks for not

responding to his summons, yet not one returned regardless of his

actions. After he sent two more, lower ranked, followers into Ministry to

spy, and they failed to return, he quickly declared the Ministry off-limits

to all remaining followers until he had the time to see what was

happening himself.

After I find the counter to this dratted curse!

The failed mission to break his faithful followers out of Azkaban had left

him weakened, without many of his most faithful and fifteen recruits

lighter. Besides the Lestrange's, the Carrows, and the rat, Pettigrew, he

was surrounded by a completely new, mindless and mediocre set of

wizards. Luckily, he had sent McNair and Jugson to recruit the giants

prior to the mission, otherwise, he would have lost their talented wands

as well.

It was slowly dawning on him that he was facing a completely different

England than the fearful and desperate one he had nearly been King of

before his demise.

He had a feeling that it all had something to do with Potter and with his

foreign family coming to shore.

A new feeling settled in his stomach, something he hadn't felt since his

pre-teenage years. Fear.

"The one with the power to vanquish…" What did it mean? Was it magical

power? Political power… or his extended family? The Power of the Potters

united under a Lord Potter? Maybe even their Family Magik-.

"Of course!" He snarled out loud. The spell that the Potter brat hit him

with was from the Potter Family Repertoire. No wonder our research has

been futile.

Suddenly the recruit on the floor relieved himself, most likely in fear of

more punishment. Voldemort did not even break stride as he banished

the idiot and his excrement through the window and sat down heavily on

his throne.

I need to get my hands on that prophecy. The timing couldn't be better with

Dumbledore currently occupied by the attack and the Potter brat off the map. I

will need to be quick, but I also need to be at top strength.

He needed to do another ritual, one that would strip him of all foreign

magic and leave him as he was on Halloween 1981. He would need the

horcrux he had made before he attacked the Potters. He needed the

Locket, and he would need a lowly recruit to consume the Drink of

Despair. He made all of his protections without any bypass methods. He

had not planned on ever needing to retrieve them.

At the same time, his thoughts shifted to his next plans. He would need

to find out which of his treacherous followers was hiding Potter. His

thoughts strayed in both cases to the blond Potter in his service. Yes, he

will do nicely.

Once he was back at strength, he would have to single-handedly infiltrate

the Ministry of Magic to find his missing followers and the prophecy.

Or maybe I don't…

He raised his wand to his ring and immediately summoned Bella. His ring

was only linked to his Inner Circle. He had found it a bit appalling that

he had needed Wormtail's arm to summon his most faithful followers at

his resurrection. He would add the more worthy of his current followers

to his ring after he returned to power.

He had barely lowered his wand as Bellatrix opened his door and bowed

deeply. Faithful girl! She was probably waiting outside the door just for me to

call her.

"My Lord." Her adoration for him palpable through her words. He would

reward her upon her return.

"Locate McNair and Jugson. They are to abort their mission and

accompany you to Romania where you will attack the International

Dragon Reserves. You are not to be discovered. Kill or recruit the Dragon

handlers. How many you kill does not matter, as long as you leave the

worthy ones and at least one of the Tamers alive. Once you have the area

under control, summon me."

She nodded furiously and graciously, bloodlust swimming in her eyes, as

she swiftly departed. He had no doubts that she would summon him

through the Dark Mark in two days' time. An evil smile graced his face as

he imagined her trussing up the McNair and Jugson in order to get to the

reserves more quickly to kill.

He summoned Wormtail with his ring and waited a total of two minutes

before the rat-like man came scurrying into the throne room.

"My - My Lord!" He sniveled, gasping for breath, a newspaper clutched in

his hands.

Oh how Voldemort would have loved to crucio the man, but he had to

conserve his strength for retrieving his horcrux.

"Your arm." He demanded.

The dirty man scurried up to the throne, bearing his arm at a most

uncomfortable angle while kissing his Lord's robes.

Voldemort swiftly pressed his wand into the mark and thought of Jonas

Potter.

"Bring me Narcissa Black. I want her unharmed and in my presence upon

my return tonight." Wormtail bowed his head even lower so that his Lord

could not see the worry in his eyes. "Well, go!"

The man scurried to his feet and rushed from the room.

Wormtail's special afternoon edition of the Daily Profit lay open at his

feet. He swiftly picked up the newspaper and read the article with Lady

Regnant Potter's emotional letter calling for Dumbledore to take

responsibility for his actions and inaction in her Lord's kidnapping as the

door to his throne room opened once more to admit the blond Potter.

Before the boy had the chance to bow before him and kiss his robes,

Voldemort stood up from his throne and used some passive Legilimency.

The boy's mind was leaking worries about his Lady Regnant Potter and

his Dark Lord. Voldemort viciously followed those thoughts into the

weakling's mind.

The feeble protection around the boy's mind shattered instantly under the

Dark Lord's legendary Legilimency assault.

Ah such a clever girl, Voldemort told as he quickly found the information

he was looking for.

"So your Lady Regnant did simulate the Death Eater participation in the

attack on Hogwarts." He stated, pulling out of the boy's ravaged mind.

The blond lay crying on the ground before Voldemort. If he had the

power to spare, he would have crucioed the boy into next week and back.

I wonder how she managed to fabricate the Dark Mark. He found himself at

lost at how the Potters had even managed to infiltrate the school. He had

many of his best Death Eaters, not that there are many of them left,

testing the famous wards for weaknesses daily.

None were having luck. For the Potters to have found a way in little to no

time...

He might end up having Snape drop his spying to launch an attack from

within once he had dealt the Ministry and the Potters a blow with the

dragons. He would promise Snape the Headmaster position at Hogwarts.

That would be a fitting reward for his many years of service.

Maybe the Carrows could be my eyes and ears within the castle while I'm

taking over the Ministry.

"M-my Lord?" The blond spoke finally with fear, in pain and trembling. "I

was un-unaware that she had such an act planned. I was on my w-way to

inform you when I-I received your summons."

The blonde stuttered to a stop as his eyes zoomed in on Voldemort's

wand. He clearly expected pain.

Voldemort's evil grin was nothing more than a promise of much more

pain to come and nearly loosened the boy's bowels.

"It is no matter. We will deal with your Lady's disrespect upon our

return." Without waiting for the boy to wrap his mind around the fact

that he would not be immediately tortured for withholding rather vital

information, Voldemort apparated them to the first destination on his

path to ruling England.

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Memory: Day 38 under the Potter Time-Bubble

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"There is no rule book to becoming the Potter," Uncle Virgil said softly to

Harry and Henriette at their first Family Magik lesson under the time-bubble.

"The most important thing a Lord or Lady of our House must do is learn from

their predecessors. Unfortunately, our Head Line has been all but destroyed

due to the last civil war in magical England." He threw a sad look at Harry,

the Last of that Line.

Hopefully not for long, he thought with a fleeting glance at Henriette.

FC's plan to get young Henry to open up by appealing to the boy's moral

compass and valorous honesty worked like a charm, while the Family Magik

relaxed and soothed the teen. Henry had given them a rather jarring and

unedited version of his life so far and Virgil had had the immediate feeling

that either Destiny or this Light Lord Albus Dumbledore - or both - was

planning to end the Potter Head Line.

If Harry doesn't marry soon, Virgil had thought then, the chances of there

being a continuation of that Line are minimal with the rate at which he

finds himself in dangerous positions.

Neither Henry nor Henriette questioned the fact that he decided to have

Henriette attend Henry's lessons, though most of his children had given him

knowing looks. It wasn't too far-fetched to hope that the two Lines, his and

Charlus', merge through a matrimonial union between the two raven-haired

teens. He could feel the Family Magik pushing the two together, opening them

up to one another… preparing them for a possible marriage.

Since Harry had woken up under the time bubble, he and his cousin had been

inseparable. Virgil was sure that the only time that they had indeed separated

for had been to go to the toilette or to bed.

The two gave him hope for both the Head Line and the future of the Australian

Line. He was, through his duties to one and Headship of the other, deeply

invested in the future of both of the teenagers.

"Therefore, you will be learning from the memories and portraits of the Lord

and Lady Potters we can find. The portraits will test your knowledge and

retention."

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Harry's POV of the memory

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A little cheer went through Harry. He had heard about Family Grimoires from

Henriette. They were supposed to be vast collections of spells, wisdom and

secret adventures left by Heads of House and prominent ancestors for their

progeny. He was worried that his training would consist of lessons out of a

book. He knew he wasn't the best student in the world, and nowhere near as

academically disciplined as students like Hermione or apparently Henriette.

His strengths lie in practical applications. He could spend hours reading a

book and never understand the spell, but after a few tries, he usually had it.

His studies at Hogwarts had proven such. He always did doubly well in

practical exams compared to theory-based ones.

I wonder if I will learn from my father, grandfather or great-

grandfather… Henriette said she's seen the portrait of Charlus Potter in

Uncle Virgil's study. The portraits of all Lords and Ladies Potter should be

in the Hall of Potters at Potter Manor.

"For the past few weeks, we've intensively chronicled our ancestors since the

birth of the First Potter, Leopold Potter in 1271. We've discussed and debated

who they were, browsed their memories and learned their stories. Today's

lesson," Uncle Virgil said in his gravelly voice, "is a lesson in Family Magik.

Henriette knows a bit about this already, but there are certain aspects that not

even I am privy to as Head of this branch of our family. There is no simple

spell or charm that allows you to receive knowledge without damaging your

own mind. For this reason, I've asked my father's portrait to spend the next

few days explaining in detail the Family Magik."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He really wanted to

see his father's portrait, but after the emotional high of the days past, he

wasn't sure if he could handle it just yet.

Henriette gave him a small nudge and pointed to the fireplace. Above the

mantel hung a rather majestic looking portrait, opulent gold and silver etchings

reminding Harry again of his family's affluence.

Uncle Virgil nodded coldly yet respectfully to his father's image in the frame

before turning and exiting the room.

After quite a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, and the shuffling it caused

both Harry and Henriette to do, Harry turned to his cousin and whispered.

"Do you think we are supposed to tap him with our wands or something?"

Although his question was quite serious, Henriette giggled slightly. She was

interrupted before she could speak.

"So, you are the worthless sprogs of my loins deemed worth enough to call

yourselves Lord and Lady of our Family. I must be turning in my grave. A

filthy half-blood and his worthless namesake."

"How dar-." Henriette began furiously. Harry was too dumbstruck by the

portrait's vitriol to even blink.

"HOW DARE I? HOW DARE I? I am Honorable Lord Hardwin Victor Potter,

the First Potter in time memorable!" Their regal ancestor sprung up from his

throne-like chair and leered down at them from his spot above the

mantelpiece. "You have the gall and audacity to even speak in my presence?

You wretched, worthless weak-minded daughter of a squib!"*

Harry was suddenly reminded of his Potions professor. Years of abuse in his

classroom had left Harry somewhat desensitized. He noticed however that

Henriette was close to tears. A small flame burned in his stomach.

"In my day, I would have had you whipped silly and crucioed you for good

measure!" Their ancestor continued on a roll. "And you, boy, are you a mute?

Or are you too much of a mollycoddled, teat-suckling to even speak your

mind?"

Harry burned red but remained silent.

"I don't know what made my son believe either of you has the Family's

Blessing, ability or willpower to even lead this family." He growled. "Look at

you, sniveling and crying like spanked toddlers - STOP YOUR SNIFFLING,

WEIB"

"ENOUGH!" Harry bellowed standing up. He didn't notice at the time, but

every part of the house under the time bubble trembled from his magic. "You

stand there, a treacherous murderer of our forefathers and spew bile at us for

wanted to lead the remnants of the family you destroyed. How dare you!"

Harry spat on the ground before the fireplace, not noticing his spit burning a

hole in the carpet.

He hauled Henriette to her feet and made to leave the despicable portrait

behind him.

"Good." A calm and satisfied voice called out softly from behind them. "I was

worried that you would be too repressed and mentally stunted to handle verbal

abuse." Harry turned to the apparently emotionally unhinged ancestor. The

man was now smiling somewhat at the two of them.

"The one thing all Lord Potters," he cast an unfamiliar look of understanding

at Henriette, "and Lady Potters are known for is their endless strength, the

power in their words, and their resolute protection of those they love." A

pained look passed across his eyes, making Harry briefly forget the fact that

the man in the portrait was just that - a magical depiction. The look was gone

before Harry could dwell on it.

"Young Henry, what will our family motto be under your Headship?"

Harry's chin tilted up. He had discussed this with Uncle Virgil the night before.

"Familia super omnia."

A spark of pride appeared in the man's eyes. "Family above all else... May

your motto carry the Family into an era of prosperity and fortune."

"Long live the Potters!" Harry declared, feeling the Family Magik revving up

around him.

"Long may we be!" Hardwin Potter intoned proudly. As the Family Magik

settled around them, he gestured to the chairs that they had just vacated.

Harry hesitated but ended up leading Henriette back to their original seating.

Four hours later, at the conclusion of the lesson, Harry left the room alone

and on a mission. Family Magik swarmed around him like a mother

welcoming back her long-awaited son. It was ironic that the one Potter Lord

who was said to have betrayed the family in the worst way possible would be

the one to unlock the hidden strengths of the upcoming Lord Potter.

Even in his potion-induced coma, Harry twitched as his Family Magik

jump-started his Occlumency shields. Luckily for him, no one was in the

Hogwarts Hospital Wing to observe the fluctuation in his brain activity.

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Memory: Day 266 under the Potter Time-Bubble

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"Hurry Henry!"

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly at Henriette's half-naked back. They had

just hosted their tenth event under the time-bubble. She was quickly changing

out of one dress and into the other. He quickly turned around and began doing

the same with his dress robes.

He sighed at the unfairness of it all. If being Lord Potter were only about

learning his family's secrets, history and Magik, he would be halfway done. I

can even deal with the politicking. But hosting social events was beyond

him. Henriette was in her element, having attended and analyzed such events

since infancy. Even though she was also new to the Lady thing, she still picked

up the social aspects much quicker than Harry.

She's like Hermione…

He quickly forced his Occlumency shields to shut down that line of thought.

He promised himself that he would reduce the time he spent thinking about his

friends outside of the bubble after his crippling, nostalgia attack a few bubble

months ago. He was even hearing Hermione's voice in his head now. Why did

Hermione's voice sound so sad?

"Zip please!" Harry turned and automatically zipped her dress up. He

wondered briefly how she managed to breathe in that.

"If we hurry," She said, slipping into a strapless white dress robe, as Harry

buttoned his shirt, "we can play a game of Quidditch."

He quickly turned her around and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Now you're

speaking my language, despite the blackmail... fluff!"

"What did I tell you about using that ridiculous nickname!?" He ducked her

fist swinging in his direction.

Harry chuckled senselessly, attempting to tie his tie. Still no luck after five

months of trying. "It's not my fault that your," he cupped air near his chest to

represent her breasts, "are just now getting bigger. You shouldn't have stuffed

tissues into your braiser to make them look fuller. You should have known

that Aunt Alex and Aunt Joan would notice it and say something!"

"You shouldn't have laughed in the middle of dinner." She growled at him

while fixing his tie and dress robes.

"How would you respond to someone saying 'Oh my. It looks like her left one

has run out of fluff'?" He suddenly could not breathe as she pulled the tie too

tight. "HEY!"

She wandlessly summoned her fur and purse. "If only they could see you after

you've had one of those dreams of yours, spotty!"

Harry cringed as he readjusted his tie. That was the most awkward moment of

his life, inside or outside the time-bubble. Henriette had come into his room to

wake him up after he had a rather wet dream.

"Come on! Let's put this behind us!" She said slipping her arm through his and

putting on her most authentic, elite pureblood mask. He sighed and did the

same before leading them both to the main ballroom. Despite her indifferent

words, he felt the girl tremble in excitement as they walked down the beautiful

staircase. Harry was pretty sure that the only people excited about these

practice balls, dinners and gatherings were the women and the house elves.

Everyone had been given a new wardrobe, and Henriette more than ready to

show off the growing mounds of flesh on her chest.

"Ah Lord Potter, Lady Potter. So kind of you to join us." Uncle Virgil said

imperiously.

Harry rolled his mental eyes. He reached out to shake his uncle's hand. The

better he acted, the more authentic it came across, the quicker he could get on

the pitch. Now that's motivation!

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Outside the memory

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.

Despite his comatose state, Harry cracked a small smile.

Hermione gasped from her spot at his side. She had spent the last few

moments apologizing for her reaction and behavior of the last two

months. And now Harry was responding…

"MADAME POMFREY! Come quickly. He moved! HARRY MOVED!"

Madame Pomfrey rushed over from her office to Harry's bed, her

headdress askew. "MISS GRANGER! What on earth are you doing in here!

How did you even get in-."

Suddenly, the room shook around them. Stones fell from the ceiling, and

Hermione quickly sheltered herself and Harry. In a blink of an eye, a

group of wizards dressed in black teleported into the Hospital Wing. Her

screams were swallowed up by the rumbling sound.

Her immediate thought that it was impossible to apparate into Hogwarts

was swept aside by the realization that Death Eaters had done just that.

Hermione immediately cast every defense and offensive spell she knew of

at the men, as they moved as one towards Harry's bed. Her spells merely

rolled off of their cloaks. She heard the disgusting sound of a body

getting hit by a large mass of falling stones. She let loose a cry of

mourning as she laid eyes on Madame Pomfrey's crushed form.

The Auror guards she had managed to give the slip using Harry's

Invisibility Cloak rushed into the Hospital Wing with shouts. Whether

they would have been able to defeat the men in black, Hermione didn't

get a chance to speculate on. An earsplitting explosion was the last she

heard. She held on to Harry's hand until he was suddenly no longer there,

and the world around her exploded in pain and darkness.

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Memory: Day 511 under the Potter Time-Bubble

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Harry sat in his favorite chair in the sitting room on the first floor. Hardwin

Potter's portrait still hung above the mantle. The man had absolutely refused

to have his portrait moved out of Harry's favorite spot.

Harry found himself conversing often with the man whenever he needed an

hour or two away from Henriette. A good butterbeer and a small chat with

someone not alive was the best way for him to rejuvenate.

His schedule now was full of "R-obscure" magic - rituals, rites and runes - and

ways to hide the fact that he had learned it at all. Uncle Virgil was nearly

obsessive about his belief that both Dumbledore and Voldemort should be

caught unawares by his new magical knowledge and prowess.

He was learning how to fine-tune his release of Family Magik. The hole his

spittle had burned into the carpet was left as a reminder of what Family Magik

could do.

Today, Harry was privileged enough to have Charlus Potter join their little

Lords' conference.

"It's a shame that Charles and James' portraits were not brought in before the

fire chat spell was cast. I believe you would have learned a lot from my son."

He threw a hard look at his father on the other end of the portrait. "And every

son of this Family should meet their father."

Harry rolled his eyes as the two began bickering like teens. He could see from

the smile on Hardwin Potter's face that he actually enjoyed the tete-a-tete with

his son. According to Uncle Virgil, Hardwin's portrait had been ignored by all

others for over a century, even the portrait of his son ignored him.

Harry suddenly sat his butterbeer on the table and looked around in suspicion.

He felt a sloppy penetration of his Occlumency shields. It was as if someone

wasn't attempting to hide their intrusion and was trying to make their presence

known. He blinked and found himself suddenly sitting next to a copy of

himself in a memory. The realization began to clear up cobwebs in his head.

He rubbed his eyes as the memory began to speed up around him. The two

men in the portrait were talking to each other and to the copy-Harry in an

accelerated way.

Harry reached for his wand and stood up. He was in a memory and someone

was watching it with him. He cast a wandless mental protection charm around

himself and repelled the attack. The memory slowed down suddenly.

"The boy's got it!" A familiar voice echoed in his mind. "I told you, his

mental defenses are second to few."

Harry felt the prickle of his Occlumency shields being tugged at once more.

This time it was a subtle invasion. He quickly cleared his mind, pumped more

magic into his shields. He invoked Family Magik to protect the family secrets

in his mind. The scene in front of him changed. He found himself within his

mindscape, a large Quidditch field with multiple rings of stands surrounding

the hoops in the middle.

The mindscape reached its vertical limitations at the top of the middle hoops.

The stands reached up just as high so intruders have to wander for a long time

before they found his hoops. Attacking the stands forced his basilisks, goblins,

gargoyles and dragons to attack the intruder. The stands also reformed

instantly and changed so the people would lose their orientation.

He had built his mindscape in such a way that intruders would focus on the

hoops in the center, which were actually more traps, and ignore the land upon

which everything was situated. A secret stairwell underneath the stands led to

a gem-filled cellar. Those were memories that he didn't care much about.

Another secret entrance under the trunk of gems led to a Gringotts vault,

guarded by a dragon and that only opened to his Parseltongue phrase and

blood. The rest of his memories and secrets were stored there.

He considered his five rings of stone stands. The outer three were so decrepit

that he immediately locked down the inner two.

Why on Earth are my shields so low?

"Harry. This is FC. I'm on the edge of your mind." FC voice no longer

echoed around him. It sounded as if he were sitting right next to Harry.

He could feel his magic searching for and forcibly expelling hidden, foreign

entities in his body. Potions, Harry thought with a snarl. Someone bloody

drugged me!

He forcibly closed all connections to his mind and let his body clean shop. He

analyzed his most recent memory, up to FC being Kissed by a Dementor. A

brief pang of sorrow went through him before he cleared his mind once more.

After some time, he felt the familiar presence again. I saw FC receive a

Dementor Kiss. He can't be in my mind!

"Who taught me to drink Firewhiskey? And where did it end up?" Harry

called out finally.

The voice seemed over-joyed with the very question. "I did - under the

Time-Bubble. You preferred Butterbeer, but grandfather Hardwin said

that was for toddlers, so we spent the night in the cellar. You sicked up

all over my shoes… I still don't know how it got in my left shoe."

Harry gave a teary laugh.

"How is this possible… I watched the Dementor Kiss you!"

FC's voice sighed. "With magic-"

"- anything is possible." Harry finished automatically.

Harry pushed more magic into fixing his mental shields, their physical

representation in his mind and removing whatever was drugging him from his

body. His anger at being rendered unconscious by a potion was fueling his will

and accelerating his magic.

He felt his physical body jolt as magic streamed through it. He felt like he was

on fire for a moment and then cold and sweaty.

His body jolted again, this time with a rather familiar stomach clenching...

With a rather frightening shake, Harry shot up from his prone position

and projectile vomited to his left. After a few moments of dry heaving, he

was offered a glass of water - his magic scanning the glass for any potions

or substances before even reached his lips.

He slowly cracked open his eyes to see that three people surrounded his

bed. The brightness of the sun shining through the window was quickly

taken care of by his magic.

Sirius jumped slightly as the curtains closed suddenly behind him. Harry

almost chuckled at the reaction, but his body felt so stiff and unused.

He turned to see FC spelling away the sick up on his robes. Harry blushed

slightly as his uncle threw him an exasperated and knowing look as if to

say "Really? Again?"

"Inv'rat Po," Harry said weakly. Sirius looked at the person next to him

confused. Draco Malfoy, what on Earth happened while I was unconscious!?

"He's asking for an Invigoration Potion." The blond said, giving Harry a

sharp look. "I'm surprised you even know what that is, Po- Lord Potter."

Harry could only smile weakly in return. FC quickly called for a house-elf

to bring it and a Pepper-Up potion.

"Tw'Nutri't." He said simply to Malfoy, who translated the Harry-speech

to the other two.

"Two highly concentrated nutrition potions. I imagine his magic must be

repairing everything it can, but it will need fuel."

FC nodded and ordered as the blonde suggested. FC asked Sirius and

Draco to excuse them for a moment for Potter Family business. The

blonde left without a word, as courtesy demanded. Sirius seemed hesitant

to leave his newly awakened godson, but FC's magic flared slightly. Sirius

gave a curt nod and left as well.

Many disgusting potions later, Harry still felt weak but was a least a bit

more lucid and responsive.

"What should I know about?" He asked hoarsely.

FC spent the next two hours of debriefing Harry, referring to and

skimming through newspaper articles that clarified or verified certain

information. Harry logged everything away and requested all of the

newspapers be put in his study with a time-turner. FC made to depart as

the sun disappeared over the horizon.

"It's good to have you back, Henry." The man said before closing the

door.

Harry wished he could have agreed.

He felt a horrible headache brewing on the edge of his mind. He quickly

summoned his private house-elf Kali for a Headache Relief and a

Dreamless Sleep potion and gave Kali a message to pass on to Sirius and

Malfoy that they should return tomorrow at dinner

Family Magik thrummed around him as he knocked back the Dreamless

Sleep potion.

What a clusterfuck, Henriette, was his last conscious thought before

darkness met him.

.

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AN

* The phrase "filthy son of a Squib" comes from "Growing Up Black" by

Elvendork Nigellus and "Harry McGonagall" from witowsmp. These are

two, highly recommended and rather marvelous pieces of fanlit.

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

13. Chapter 13: Dungeons and

Dragons

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Chapter Thirteen: Dungeons and Dragons

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Harry awoke the next day feeling very refreshed, with a smile on his face

and a hunger that would put a Roman legion to shame.

It took a moment for his mind to catch up with the events of the past two

weeks, but, once it had, a fury unprecedented came over him.

He shook his head. I need to meditate and focus.

He asked his personal elf at Potter Manor, Kali, for some breakfast for

him to take in his study and to alert the other elves that they were not to

speak of his reawakening to anyone including and especially Henriette.

That should buy me some time to sort this mess out.

Harry stretched and made his way to the bathroom. The Invigoration

Draught had worked wonders, he felt. The potion was one of the most

difficult to brew, and he had been brewed himself. Under the time-

bubble, it had become quickly clear to him that he was more than

capable of brewing the harder potions when he needed to lose all sense

of place and time.

Maybe I'll stop by the potions lab to calm down after finding out what the hell

Henriette had been thinking of with her latest actions.

He could think of no simple way to rejoin society - since he was currently

"kidnapped by Death Eaters" - or find out how Hermione and Ron were

doing in the aftermath of the rescue mission two days prior.

He sighed out loud as the hot water cascaded down his back.

Dumbledore was a complete other set of problems.

How dare he! Harry wasn't even sure where to begin with Dumbledore's

list of recent atrocities and illegal actions against him and his House. He

should have left me in Henriette's care. Not to mention his poisoning me! If he

had given Harry to Henriette, maybe Harry wouldn't be in the mess he

currently was. He had a feeling that he would have to take the man down

a peg or two publicly.

He made his way to his study after his shower and luckily came across no

one. His study was also pleasantly empty.

He could see where Henriette had already made herself at home. She had

a rather meticulous manner when it came to paperwork and the like. All

of the books he had left on his desk had been restacked, letters and

paperwork were stacked in three neat piles and her favorite ostrich quill

lay sharpened and ready. Even the chair behind his desk was reset to

accommodate someone a few inches shorter than he was.

Interestingly enough, he had no problem with her taking the reins in his

absence. He just had the feeling that she expected his absence to last a lot

longer than it should have, especially if she had been doing everything in

her power to get him back on his feet again.

And if FC hadn't defied her orders and intervened...

"Kali," he said, summoning his elf who popped in immediately, "please

bring the post with breakfast." He turned back to the newspapers FC had

given him yesterday.

"Kali can't, Master Lordship." The elf said, pulling at its ears in distress.

"Mistress Ladyship has ordered that all post be going to her."

Harry growled softly. Even though his ire was not directed at the elf, he

noticed that he still frightened the little being something dreadful and

forced himself to calm down. "Then tell her the post was late or

something. Do not allow her in my study. If you can, gather all of the

post meant for me over the past two and a half weeks, please. Also please

go to the Daily Prophet and buy one of every newspaper they've printed

since Halloween."

The elf nodded furiously before popping away.

His awesome elf brought Harry a hearty breakfast and a stack of

newspapers not even a few minutes later. Harry made a mental note to

do something wonderful for Kali and the other thirteen elves at the

manor. Maybe I should have a small elf party for Christmas.

With distaste marring his face, Harry got to work on the newspapers. He

used the Family's time-turner three times and went each time into his

private library as not to disturb his previous self. He only had to leave

the door open a crack and summon the newspapers he had yet to read

through the door.

He had found out just before the Battle of Azkaban that he could handle

brief glimpses of his past or future self without being driven insane. He

wondered briefly if that was a side-effect of seeing himself conjuring a

Patronus in his third year or if it had something to do with the Potter

Family Magiks.

He wrote a brief note to himself to look that up. He had often

contemplated the possibility of training with himself, but he wondered if

that would lead to a paradox. What would happen if he accidentally or

fatally injured himself? He sent a note to his Uncle Milton. That was a

research topic right up his alley.

Harry then made sure to read through each article, even the ones not

about him. Just as he had been taught by Uncle Virgil. As suspected, he

was mentioned in 60% of the articles even if the article wasn't explicitly

about him. How someone managed to include me in an announcement about

a new hair removal potion is beyond me.

He had been hailed the Hero of Azkaban, sharing the title in a few

articles with the Azkaban ferrier, Haros Caronte. Caronte had also sent

him two letters, both unopened by Henriette, requesting an appointment

to discuss his Patronus, some research on Dementors and the life debt

Caronte had acquired. Harry made a note to respond to the man

tomorrow. Harry was called the most powerful wizard since Dumbledore

- something Dumbledore seemed to publicly support. There was an entire

special edition of the Prophet on the "great powers of Lord Potter". Harry

shook his head in disgust.

In the aftermath of the battle, Harry was suddenly the tragic hero, the

victim of a custody battle that never should have occurred in the first

place. There were reports of women crying in the streets. And finally,

most recently, he was the Death Eater's captive. He had a feeling the

women would be back in the streets again.

His brow furrowed as he noticed Henriette's presence in and influence of

the press becoming steadily more and more apparent as the articles

progressed. Despite her foreign roots, the world sympathized with her.

She was the sharp, Lady Regnant who was proud of her fallen Lord and

yet sad to have to step into the limelight in his absence.

Codswallop. Henriette is a top-notch actress. He knew that, but the rest of

the world was eating it all up.

It was on his third time-turn that he stumbled across a passage in the

article from the day prior that made his blood run cold - a passage about

one Hermione Jane Granger.

Among the 31 students transferred to St. Mungo's for healing was one Ms.

Hermione Granger, the muggleborn friend of Lord Potter. According to reliable

sources, Ms. Granger was found within the Hospital Wing and her wand was

registered having used many defensive and violent spells, most likely to protect

the bedridden Lord Potter from his attackers. A powerful heroine for a

powerful hero. St. Mungos reports that Ms. Granger was hit with a powerful

stunning spell and later crushed by fallen rocks. Our muggleborn heroine was

listed in critical condition as of this morning. (For a full list of deceased and

injured students, see page 3. For more on Lord Potter's relationship with Ms.

Granger, see the reprint of Rita Skeeter's article from February on page 12).

The logical part of his brain told him to read the rest of the paper and the

remaining seven papers as well. But, Harry couldn't. His rational mind

also told him to put on something other than his white pyjamas, not to

burst into his study with his previous self present, and to leave

instructions with Kali. Another, louder part of his mind told him to go to

her immediately.

He jumped out of his seat, summoned his wand wandlessly, ran into his

study (ignoring his startled other self) and jumped in the floo -

destination St. Mungo's.

He arrived at the floo entrance inside the hospital a soot-covered tangle

of limbs. A medi-witch on staff immediately came up to him but he

rushed past her.

He ran to the golden-haired Welcome Witch and was promptly given the

room number for Hermione after stating his name. It never crossed his

mind to watch the witch who quickly and covertly pressed her wand to

her left arm as he ran toward the station she had given him.

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Drs. Jean and Hugh Granger had feared many things in their time

together, their only daughter being the main component in almost all of

them.

Hermione had been a surprise, a pleasant one of course, but she had been

a surprise nonetheless. They had been nearly at the end of their practical

examinations at the Manchester Dental School when Jean was forced to

go to the doctor after some dizzy spells and nausea.

They had had many discussions on the topic of abortion after they

received the news. A baby had simply not factored into their short-term,

career plans at all. They had wanted to do at least five years of research

and have at least five years of practicing under their belts before they

had a child. They could never tell Hermione, but the decision to have her

had been one of the most difficult of their lives. They married in a private

ceremony not even a month later and had their beautiful girl six months

thereafter.

It had been a difficult birth for Jean. She found herself unable to have

another baby, despite their wish to have two. They never told Hermione

that either.

His name being called pulled him out of his thoughts. "Mr. Granger, you

can go in now." The pretty witch with golden hair called him from the

reception desk the waiting room.

Jean looked at her husband of sixteen years and rolled her eyes lightly.

They both knew why he had been acknowledged and not her. As they

made their way to their daughter's room, Hugh pondered another big fear

of his. He knew of the dangers of the magical world, even more so than

they had let on to Hermione. It was the biggest secret they kept from her

daughter - Hugh's magical lineage.

Hugh was the last surviving, male descendant of Hector Dagworth-

Granger. As the eldest son of three children before the untimely death of

his father in a potions accident in 1960, it had been a major

disappointment to the rest of his family to discover Hugh's magical levels

had been just barely above those of a squib. He had been hidden, and

later ultimately erased, from magical society just after his eleventh

birthday had passed without the mandatory Hogwarts letter.

That had been the worst day of his life. The anticipation had been high

for all, and the disappointment heartbreaking for him.

It was his own family who snapped his wand days later, bound the little

magic he had and shunted him off into the muggle world with a small

stipend, a full-ride to Manchester Grammar School and without so much

as a goodbye. The "Dagworth" was removed from his name, and he never

saw his magical relatives again.

He was sure that they had been forbidden contact with him by his

mother.

I wouldn't want to see the bastards anyway!

He had been spat on by his mother's sister and mishandled by his

mother's brother-in-law, who apparated him to the street in front of the

boarding school and left him, teary-eyed and shaking, without a single

word.

It was only following the death of his childless brother, Howard, and the

birth of Hermione in 1979, that he had been inundated with post from

his sister and mother regarding Hermione. The letters were not only clear

in their disregard for him, but their interest in Hermione had been

dubious at best. They wanted her to take on the name Dagworth-Granger

to continue his father's legacy since his sister's children took the name of

their father. Their knowledge of Hermione had come as a surprise at that

time, but it had hit him later how they had found out about her.

Of course, Hermione and any other magical children Jean would have had

would appear on the family tapestry as the remaining heirs of my father.

Those letters and the ones that followed were immediately burned,

unanswered. He dedicated a special place in his garden, where the

neighbor's dog tended to relieve himself, to the ashes. The letters had

dwindled to one per year around Christmas with a small increase after

Hermione had been accepted by Hogwarts. Jean had come up with a

great cover story for when Hermione was old enough to notice his odd,

annual disappearances and began questioning them.

"Papa needs some time to think about his family," she had always said. "They

treated him quite badly."

Hugh sighed as they reached the room where their beautiful daughter

lay, lightly bandaged but visibly healthy in bed. He was happy to see her

up and about. Yesterday she had not looked so swell. Potions… he

assumed with disgust, are most likely the reason for her quick recovery.

His magical levels, while low, had been adequate enough for him to work

on potions as a child. He had been rather gifted with medicinal potions,

even working on some that were more than likely sold to St. Mungo's. His

mother had fully encouraged his brewing. He forced himself to turn his

mind from his past.

As usual, his little queen had a huge book in her hand. He felt Jean grip

his arm tightly.

"A Collection of Over Three Hundred Recipes in Cookery, Physick, and

Surgery", ed. Hector Dagworth-Granger, he read in his head. A small wave

of anger went through him, but his wife's arm held him steady.

His ever observant daughter seemed to notice his discomfort and quickly

lay the book to the side. He assumed she believed that magical things

made him uncomfortable. And she would be right.

Jean was immediately at Hermione's side. "How are you, dear?"

Hermione gave them a happy smile.

"The Healer says I will be out in two days." She seemed more relieved

and happier than she should have been by the news.

Hermione gave her mother a quick, meaningful look, one that Hugh

almost missed.

"I can't wait to come home." She said a little too quickly for his comfort.

"But, I'm starting to feel a bit sleepy. You two don't have to stay. I don't

want you to see me fall asleep."

Whatever hidden communication there was between Jean and Hermione,

Jean seemed to finally catch on to the nonverbal messages. He saw as her

shoulders stiffened and relaxed; a tick she had had since college.

There was another look, a kind of confirmation from his little girl. The

minxes… Hugh came up with a small plan.

He gave Hermione a small kiss on her, now, "tired" forehead and excused

himself to go to the bathroom.

He was gone for maybe five minutes to give them more time to work on

their story. He assumed that their actions had something to do with a

boy. With Hermione basically asking for them to leave, it was also

plausible that the boy was still in the hospital. He grinned. He looked

forward to throwing a wrench into their scheming.

Hugh returned to a whispered conversation between his ladies which

ended as soon as Hermione caught sight of him. He dried his hands on

the paper towel he had taken with him to open the bathroom door and

waited for them to make their move.

He didn't have to wait long.

His suspicions were soon confirmed as Jean cleared her throat, her back

still to him. "Well, dear, we just happened to be in the area on our way to

Dr. Rollworth's surgery. If you are going to head off to sleep, we'll just

stop by tomorrow when you wake again."

Hermione, who was now in a near-slumber state, gave a small nod.

"Go easy on the… reading, my little queen." He said, coming to give her

another kiss, and stepping over his suitcase. "We will come tomorrow if

you want."

Her small moan was all of the reaction he received before he and Jean

said their goodbyes and departed.

It was just as they were nearing the waiting room that it suddenly

occurred to him that he forgot his suitcase.

"Oh no! My suitcase." He said abruptly. "Stay here, love. I'll be right

back!"

"But-." Before Jean could even register it, he was sprinting off in the

direction of their daughter's room.

Good God! I need to take up jogging again. He was completely winded by

the time he reached his daughter's room. He took a moment to catch his

breath before he threw open the door as silently as he could.

"Sorry, my darling! I forgot my-." His words ended with a growl as he

caught sight of the young man sitting on Hermione's bed. His sleepy

daughter was kneeling next to the boy, looking more than well rested.

From the looks of things, he had just interrupted a rather private

moment.

"And who might you be?" He bit out.

His red-faced daughter all but jumped off the bed. "Papa. This is-."

"I wasn't talking to you, Hermione Jean." He said simply. His anger

chilled the words.

The raven-haired boy, who Hugh vaguely remembered from somewhere,

seemed to come to himself and approached Hugh somewhat confidently.

The young man stuck out his hand. "Harry Potter, sir." Ah.

"Of course you are." He took the offered hand roughly and a bit more

firmly than necessary. "I've heard more about you than I would have

preferred out of my teenage daughter's mouth. And definitely not enough

for you to be so… friendly on her bed." He deadpanned.

Both teens winced. Hugh did a small happy-dance in his head.

The young man, Harry Potter, seemed to lose the ability to speak for a

moment.

"I… I assure you. I- uh. We-."

"What are your intentions toward my daughter, Mr. Potter?" Hugh said

coldly, taking a step forward into the boy's comfort zone.

Despite his own magic being bound, he could feel the teen's magic flare

against him. It hit him like a sentient gust of wind, suspicious and

challenging. The teen cocked an eye at him. His green eyes lit up with a

bright curiosity before they slowly narrowed distrustfully. A wand slowly

slid into view.

"Hermione?" The boy asked, never taking his eyes off of Hugh. "Your

parents are not magical, correct?"

Hugh's eyes widened nervously. Hermione looked at Harry's wand in

shock.

"Yes. My parents are muggles."

The green eyes blazed with a ferocity that seemed to drill into Hugh's

very bones. "I thought so."

One moment the verdant eyes flashed, and in the next Hugh suddenly

found himself tightly wrapped in glowing blue chains, gagged and

trussed up. He gasped in pain as his side hit the ground hard.

"HARRY!" His little girl yelled, grabbing the boy's wand hand.

"If your father is not magical, then the man on the floor is not your

father. He has a magical core. I can sense it."

"What… that's impossible." His daughter was suddenly examining at him

closely.

At least the boy can protect her well. Hugh thought, chagrined.

"We should go find your mother, if that was even her," Harry said

stepping over Hugh as if he were last week's rubbish.

"That was definitely my mother. We communicate very… uniquely with

one another." Hermione said panicked.

The lights to the room flickered and died. Hugh could hear loud screams

from outside the room.

"Oh no!" Hermione said, sounding panicked. "You don't think-."

"Get your wand out." The boy said simply, and the two left the room.

Not even moments later, Hugh heard a very familiar voice scream in

pain.

JEAN!

Sounds of fighting could be heard through the open door, and Hugh

could feel a deep pain lancing through him as if punishing him for not

being able to defend his wife and daughter.

The smell of burning metal reached his nose abruptly. It was only then

that noticed the metal chains around him melting. The fury that burned

through him for being incapacitated during an attack burning through

the metal that restrained him.

He had nearly succeeded when the door opened once more. Hermione,

looking a bit shaken, her black-haired friend, who was half carrying Jean,

and a few men in crimson robes entered the room.

"Auror Tigris, we have an unidentified squib-leveled male in this room."

One of the men said in a rather theatrically pompous voice.

"We can see that, Recruit Davis." The balding man nearest Hugh said with

a roll of his eyes. The other man went red in the face.

"Squib!? My father isn't a squib." Hermione said in her matter-of-fact

tone. Jean looked briefly at him in apology before she gave her daughter

a truncated version of his family history.

"What? But… The Dagworth-Granger?!"

The green-eyed youth sized him up briefly and gave him an apologetic,

lopsided smile. "I apologize for the chains, sir."

Hugh merely hugged his wife and shell-shocked daughter in response.

"To protect my family, I would have done the same, young man. I am

grateful that you kept my angels safe and returned them to me."

The two shared a brief look of understanding and mutual respect before

roughly shaking hands.

"Men…" Hermione said with a look of frustration at her mother.

"Well, the meeting between the two of them could have gone better, but I

actually expected bloodshed," Jane said in an exasperated tone that Hugh

knew all too well. He hoped he wouldn't have to sleep on the couch

tonight.

One of the wizards cleared his throat. "We will come to collect your

statements after the clean-up, Lord Potter… missus." He nodded to

Hermione and Jean. "Purely a formality, I assure you. We fought

alongside you and saw most of what you saw. Where can we reach you?"

If Hugh ever wondered about the relationship between his little queen

and the unruly haired teen, their moment of brief communication - which

so resembled his own with his wife - convinced him that his little girl had

found her... little king. The realization took him momentarily aback. His

wife, ever the observant, gave the arm around her waist a little squeeze.

"I will be seeing to the care of Her- Ms. Granger and her parents. I also

invite them to dinner tonight at Potter Manor." He received an

enthusiastic nod from both Jean and Hermione. "You can find us there.

Please stop by tomorrow, I wish to review my memories of the day. I

spoke to no one of my visit so there might be a Death Eater spy at St.

Mungo's."

The men nodded, fought over who would shake the boy's hand first and

left once they had all had their turn. The young man - Harry, Hugh

reminded himself - quickly explained Side-Along Apparition to Jean.

Since he and Jean had little to no magical cores, the magic would not be

difficult for Harry to transport all of them simultaneously. His apparent

limit of two magicals would not be reached.

Hugh could see his daughter and his wife both burning with questions

about the magical cores and Apparition of non-magicals, but Harry

merely asked them all to take his arm.

The unbelievably uncomfortable sensation left him feeling as if someone

were trying to extract his navel with a hook and gave up after five

minutes. The feeling brought forth the painful memory of his banishment

from the magical world.

The psychedelic and nightmarish trip could not have taken more than

three seconds, and Hugh found himself suddenly standing in an opulent

room that reminded Hugh of a picture he once saw of Lord Archibald

Wavell's luxurious study.

"Where were you? And who are they?" A chilly female voice said from

the door frame. Hugh noticed his daughter tense slightly. He turned to

see a female version of Harry glaring at the group. "You-."

Hugh was once more taken aback by Harry, this time because of the

power he emitted.

"Hold your tongue," he growled out. The girl flinched but still stood tall

and defiant.

.

.

.

.

Harry was exercising all the self-control he had to not give his cousin the

verbal lashing she so deserved.

"I will deal with you later." He said dismissively, hoping he could get the

girl to retreat before he lost his control.

"Sure you will…" She spat, physically unable to enter the room but

unwilling to remove herself from it. "First Azkaban, and now this!" She

gestured angrily at Hermione. "If only you spent half of the time you do

on gallivanting off to play the savior and moping after this… this

demimondaine on Family issues, rather than heaping them on me!"

Harry flinched. She was unfortunately right. He did delegate everything

he truly didn't want to deal with to her. All social calls went through her,

all interior matters like spats between family members, the wedding, the

Potter Gathering, and other menial work as well. He ran off to Hogwarts

for some reprieve from the duties that he hadn't wanted from the

beginning, leaving Henriette to take care of everything.

It made him feel like rubbish.

And he had to give it to the girl, she always came up with the best

insults. "I-."

"What did you call me?!" Harry almost face-palmed at Hermione's

response. He definitely didn't want the two to start fighting. His talk with

Hermione in the hospital finally gave him some insight on the interaction

between the two. He had been unbelievably dim and unobservant back

then not to notice the Family Magik in play and the tension between

Hermione and Henriette.

Not that me being unobservant is anything new, he thought self-critically.

Henriette's countenance darkened considerably at Hermione. "I called you

what you are! You do and have done nothing but keep my cousin in

trouble and distracted from his familial responsibilities. A common

strumpet with whom my weak-minded cousin is smitten - a distraction in

a low-quality skirt! A -."

"ENOUGH!" Harry bellowed. He infused a bit of Family Magik in his

words, but Henriette was on a roll.

"- small-minded, know-it-all, first gen whose very existence is preventing

Harry from leading the family to where it should be! As Lady Potter, I

prohibit your presence in this House! Elves!"

There was a moment of silence. Harry felt his face go blank. Two house

elves, coming to carry out the wishes of the Lady of the Manor, popped

into the room. Upon seeing Harry, they looked confused from Harry to

Henriette, who now seemed to realize that she had gone too far.

"Go back to your duties," Harry growled. He did not even notice the two

elves hastily remove themselves out of the line of fire, nor that the lights

in the room darkened, nor that a small glow surrounded his frame.

"You are not Lady Potter." He clarified simply. "You will never be my Lady

Potter. You are my cousin no matter how distant, what our Family Magik

desires, or what the inbred social elite believes. I will never marry you."

His anger was so heavy and potent that family members began

apparating, flooing, and portkeying to the Manor to see if everything was

okay.

He could feel the wards admitting them, the Family Magik welcoming

them.

Henriette's eyes looked pained at the thought of not being his Lady

Potter. Her eyes flickered angrily to Hermione. If she hadn't been trapped

by the magic in the doorframe, she probably would have physically

attacked Hermione.

"You dare. You expropriated the Ladyship you now so freely wield! How

can you stand there with such arrogance and good conscience when you

were willing to let me be mentally raped, and left in a magical coma so

you can arrogate and usurp your so coveted dream position!"

He was breathing so heavily that one had the impression he was

physically keeping himself restrained.

"I did n-."

"BITE YOUR TONGUE, WEIB!"

Harry roared, banging his hand on his desk. His mind briefly flashed back

to an argument under the time bubble where Hardwin Potter's portrait

yelled the same thing at her. He only felt slightly guilty as a small dribble

of blood trickled out of the corner of Henriette's mouth as the Family

Magik forced his will on her.

"You know as well as I, that our Family is of direct, Gryffindor lineage.

We can command the Hogwarts wards, even if only partially! If you

wanted, you could have had me out of there in moments and without

anyone knowing!" He could see FC actually face-palming in the crowd of

the family gathering in the corridor behind the frozen Henriette. He most

likely hadn't thought of that.

"The question is: why. Why did you allow me to remain in a coma at the

whim of a deranged Light Lord?"

He stormed up to her and captured her eyes in his before throwing

himself into her mind. She cried out at the violent, mental intrusion. He

brutally broke through her shields in moments. She went limp in the

invisible bonds holding her upright.

He grabbed at her thoughts about his coma and incapacity. He batted

away her futile attempts to protect her thoughts, getting more and more

annoyed with his cousin.

After seeing what he came for, he withdrew from her mind in disgust. He

spat on the ground before her feet. A small fire began where the spittle

hit the carpet. In the corner of his eye, Harry could see her mother being

held back by FC.

"You concocted that ridiculous plan to prove that you have some

semblance of power outside of organizing social events. Your plan to

make your big debut in Magical Britain over my comatose body ended

with the death of numerous, innocent children!" He growled. "I hope you

are proud of yourself."

He turned his back on her. "Were you not favored by our Family Magik, I

would disown you this very moment." A ripple of distress went through

the crowd outside his door. As much as he wanted to dismiss them and

the Grangers, he knew that would be illogical now that they had heard

all of the conversation thus far.

His mind flew to the letter he would have received on Halloween from

the new Lord Malfoy. His calculating mind quickly connecting the dots to

Malfoy's visit yesterday.

"Kali!" He called out to his personal elf as he made his way to his desk.

He would send Henriette to her chambers and call for Malfoy.

After a moment or two of searching for the aforementioned letter without

Kali showing, he turned back to his cousin with a burning glare. He had

not stayed in her mind long enough to catch her most recent memories,

but he could make an educated guess at why Kali wasn't responding.

"Dali!" The personal elf to Henriette popped in immediately.

She gave a shaky but deep bow. "Milord."

"Where is Kali?" The elf gave a squeak of sadness and burst into tears. If

Harry remembered correctly, Kali and Dali were bonded mates.

"Well?" He barked, making Dali only sob more intensely. He saw

Hermione frown deeply at this, and he took a second to calm himself

again. "I'm sorry, Dali. Please tell me quickly why Kali won't respond." He

said softly.

Dali blew her nose in a handkerchief that looked suspiciously like Kali's

uniform. "Kali refused Mistress Milady entrance to Milord's study.

Mistress punished him til he couldn't move and gave him clothes."

Harry's fury detonated in a violent flare of red magic. Everyone was

forced to the ground as his anger washed over them in waves. If there

were any doubts about his power, they were immediately swept away.

When he had calmed down once more, he spoke softly but authoritatively

to the cowering Dali. "Raise, Dali. You have nothing to fear from me.

How long does Kali have to live?"

"Not much longer, Mas-Milord." She squeaked, tears flowing anew.

"Then we have no time to spare, bring him here as soon as you find him.

With haste!" Dali was gone before he could finish his sentence.

He collapsed into the massive chair near the fireplace. The others inside

and outside of the room began righting themselves. Harry meditated

briefly, this time using Family Magik to calm himself.

"You had no right, Henriette," Harry called out simply.

"No right!? Of course, I had a right." She spat out blood. "I was not told

you were awake. I was not told you were coherent. I was not even told

that you were reading your mail."

Harry's eyes widened at her guts.

"Your elf refused to tell me what I deserved to know! It was

insubordination."

Harry raised a hand and wandlessly sealed her mouth. "Nothing but vile

things come out of your mouth. It will remain sealed until I say. So mote

it be." No one spoke aloud, but Harry could hear Henriette's mother,

Alexandra Potter, née Rosier, weeping in the background.

Dali returned seconds thereafter with a battered and weak-looking Kali in

her arms.

Harry sprung around his desk and laid a hand on the elf's head. "I take

thee, Kali, into the Potter Family. May we grow old and prosper

together." There was a flash of light around the two of them. "Kali, for

your loyalty to me and to our Family, I promote you to the position of

Presiding Elf. You are to oversee the head elves of all Potter properties

worldwide. You are to always speak your mind and be honest with me…

my friend."

The, now slightly healthier looking, elf fell to his knees in shock. "Master

Harry! You are too gracious. Please… please let me remain your personal

elf. I is not wily enough to do what you ask of me." Harry was not

surprised to hear that. "Kali knows an elf who would be though. I will

bring him to Milord if Milord so wishes."

Harry nodded and gave the elf an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Go

and get healed, my friend." He turned to Dali after Kali popped away

with a more serious tone. "Please inform all elves in this Manor and

spread the news to all other Potter houses that no elf is to answer

Henriette Potter. Her disgraceful treatment of Kali proves to me that she

is simply incapable to even order a cup of tea."

This was the hard part, but he knew he had no choice but to do it and to

do it publicly with family members present. His plan to confine Henriette

to her chambers was no longer enough punishment for her. He took a

shuddering breath and spoke with Family Magik coating his words. "For

her traitorous actions against her Lord Potter, breaking the traditions and

morals synonymous with this Family, and blatant abuse of her Regency,

Henriette is henceforth persona non grata." A massive, collective gasp

arose from the crowd of Potters; it was only a slight step above

disowning. "She is not to be seen, heard or discussed until deemed

permissible by me. So mote it be!"

"So mote it be." The crowd of Potters chanted in response as one.

"Dali, take her to the rooms in the dungeons. Bring her a meal three times

a day." He looked Henriette in the eyes at this point. The defiance and

anger he saw earlier in her eyes had broken off into a cold indifference.

He needn't break into her mind again to know that she was hiding her

true emotions.

She needs this small lesson, he reminded himself.

He sat down in his chair. All his anger left him, leaving him feeling

drained and disgusted. Henriette was removed from the room.

Harry stared at the grandfather clock in the corner of his study. Where

Molly Prewitt's clock used their Family Magik and DNA from their

children to track how each child was doing, his clock told him of his

lateness to a meeting - though not to which - and whether his breath

smelt bad. He still hadn't figured out which of his clever ancestors

created that piece of rubbish.

I bet it was Cygnius Potter. He stole numerous ideas from non-magicals and

imbued them with magic in the seventeenth century.

He saw the crowd of Potters in front of his study door dispersing with no

small effort from FC, who seemed to be answering questions at a rapid

pace. Merlin bless that man.

He turned to the Grangers who had remained quiet and observant on the

side of his study. "I apologize. I would have preferred to deal with that in

private." He pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated wearing glasses.

He didn't even need the things. His vision had been fixed while under the

time-bubble. His simple glass lens were charmed to see small

enchantments. It was one more thing to make his enemies underestimate

him - one more thing Uncle Virgil had been adamant about him keeping

secret. Even Henriette doesn't know.

It was Mr. Granger who responded. "I'm not sure I understood everything

that happened. But, from what I understand, you reacted honorably and

admirably considering the circumstances." He shared a brief look with his

wife. "You… also have a beautiful home. Could you show us more?"

Harry smiled. "I think Hermione has actually spent more time exploring

this place than I have." He shared a small look with her. "We will happily

show you around." Hermione's smile brightened his whole day.

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Harry finally gave a sigh of relief as Hermione's parents finally called it a

night, and he was able to ask Kali to show them to the guest wing. They

had accepted the calming draughts and bruise ointment without

questions. Much to Hermione's astonishment, her father recalled having

once been able to brew both easily as a child. That had started a long

discussion on the Dagworth-Grangers to which Harry had happily

supplied his knowledge.

He enjoyed a few moments in silence with Hermione before the wards

alerted them to the arrival of two people. He could feel the Black Family

Magik reach out to him as two members of that part of his family entered

his proximity. He assumed it was Sirius and maybe Malfoy again. Sirius

had blanket access to all Potter properties, as Harry's godfather, and was

able to invite others if the wards deemed them to have noble intentions.

"It was really nice of you to side with your… elves." He could hear the

disgust in her voice at the fact that he had elves. He decided not to speak

on it.

"What Henriette did was wrong. Period." He said, grabbing the empty

teacups left by her parents and putting them onto the tray. "It's important

as Head of this Family to make sure each member is treated well. The

Potter house elves are traditionally treated very well."

"I wish other families thought the same." She said, biting her lip. Harry

could just sense the question coming. "Would he really have died if he

hadn't been rebonded to you?"

Harry sat with a plop on the chair across from hers.

"Depends. Some elves are stronger than others. Kali was and is also very

connected to the Family Magik rather than to the blood members. His

magic has entwined with ours. To remove that…" He struggled for a

comparison. "Would be like shutting off someone's life support. Their

body would live for a while, but it would most likely die eventually."

"Whereas Dobby…" She pondered aloud.

"Dobby lived in fear, hated the Malfoys and was most likely enslaved to

the blood lineage rather than a recipient of Family Magik. He most likely

lasted a lot longer than Kali would have."

She sighed. "Hopefully he managed to find a family then. One day I will

look more deeply into this Curse of Elderon and search for a counter."

Her eyes sparkled at the challenge.

"Curse of - where did you find reference to that rubbish?" He said with a

chuckle.

He realized how wrong that came out as she turned to him like a fury.

"It's not rubbish! It is a horrible -."

Harry held up a diplomatic hand in the universal sign for peace.

"Sorry. That came out wrong." He wandlessly summoned two clean cups

for his incoming guests. "The Curse is unproven conjecture that allows

Light purebloods to sleep better at night for having slaves. It also makes

house elves believe that their enslavement is inevitable."

"That's preposterous! Sirius gave me a few books that explained the curse

and its history in detail." She said with such conviction that Harry also

regretted what he was about to say.

He stirred his guests' tea absent-mindedly. "Elderon didn't exist." He said

simply. He wondered why Sirius even gave her the idea to research that

particular curse in the first place. Maybe he got too tired of her going on

about creature rights. Or maybe he doesn't know himself. "I can promise you

that the authors of the books you read were purebloods, more than likely

Edward Jones or Frederick William Hamsterley in the 1700s. Both were

commissioned by Minister of Magic Magdalena May Marchbanks to write

that dribble."

As Hermione's mouth opened, a rebuttal waiting burst forth, Harry

swiftly interjected. "Talk to FC or, better yet, talk to my Uncle Milton. He

loves debating and refuting the legitimacy of centuries-old lore and

theories like that."

He abruptly ended that part of the conversation as Sirius and Malfoy

entered the room.

"Well met, Lord Black… Lord Malfoy." He greeted with a bow at the

waist, respectful of their titles and stations.

They stopped a ways off from the two and gave equally deep bows in

return, each declaring their peaceful intent by holding their wands in

front of them the entire time. "Well met, Lord Potter."

Hermione watched with a small frown and observing eyes. He wished

Henriette hadn't gone off the deep end. She would be able to give Hermione

a lesson or two in this stuff.

"May Magik bless this peaceful meeting of our three, blood-bound

Houses." Harry intoned.

"So mote it be!" The two replied in unison. A small wind ruffled their

cloaks before leaving as quickly as it came.

"Now that the stuffy stuff is over-." Sirius said stowing his wand and

grabbing Harry up in a tight hug. Harry had a small flashback to Uncle

Virgil's greeting in the Potter House in Melbourne. He definitely said

something similar.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at the man. Harry gestured to an empty seat on his

left, which the blond promptly took before Harry levitated a warmed and

ready cup of tea straight into Malfoy's hands.

The blond merely nodded before elegantly taking a sip. His eyes widened

in shock before he took another.

"How many times could you have watched me prepare my cup at lunch

for you to replicate it so accurately?" He gave a small smirk.

Harry detached himself from his godfather with a sheepish grin. "Know

thy enemy."

Malfoy gave a true smile. "Indeed."

Harry quickly served Sirius, who sat next to Hermione after greeting her

amicably.

"How can House Potter be of service to you fine gentlemen this evening?"

He said in most aristocratic voice. Hermione did a double-take in shock.

Sirius choked slightly on his tea. "Wow." He said clearing his throat. "I

doubt your father could have pulled off that voice as well as you just did,

and he was trained since infancy…"

Harry gave an excellent imperious look. "Some of us are just gifted." He

was surprised by how well he kept a straight face as Sirius let loose a

deep, belly laugh.

Malfoy, who had already finished his tea and two raspberry biscuits,

shook his head. "Unfortunately, I do not come bearing pleasant news."

Harry turned his full attention to the blond before refilling his cup.

"May I speak openly?" He gave Hermione a small, indecipherable look.

"She has my full confidence, even in Family Matters."

Sirius attempted to hide a massive grin behind his teacup. Harry had all

but declared the unaware Hermione a soon-to-be addition to House

Potter.

I wonder how many jokes he will manage to make.

"I see," Malfoy said simply, stirring one and a half sugars into his new cup

of tea. "My mother was summoned before the Dark Lord yesterday and

has asked me to relay a message in her absence." He took a long sip of

the tea he had made himself. "The Dark Lord succeeded in taking over a

dragon reserve in Romania yesterday. There were few survivors."

Hermione gasped. "Charlie Weasley works at a reserve in Romania!"

Malfoy nodded slowly. "Yes. He was one of the four kept alive. All others

not of pureblooded English families were slaughtered by three of the

Dark Lord's best fighters."

Harry felt a small chill go down his spine. While the bloodshed was

terrible and saddening, the idea of Voldemort having dragons in his

arsenal was absolutely terrifying.

"What are Tom's plans with the captured dragons?"

Malfoy flinched slightly at the name. Many purebloods found it revolting

how muggle their precious Dark Lord's name was. "My mother believed

they will be used against the Ministry, Hogwarts or... yourself."

Harry sighed. He assumed as much. "You can confirm this?" He asked

Sirius directly. Malfoy bristled at the apparent questioning of his mother's

integrity.

"Yes. Dumbledore's spy in the Death Eater ranks confirmed the same.

There are rumors in the Death Eater ranks of the upcoming attacks."

"How many fully grown dragons are we talking?"

Malfoy gave an uncomfortable look. "Around two to three dozen. There

are some dragonlings and around a dozen more Ancients."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Merlin help us all. This

was a clever move by Voldemort, as much as it pained him to even think

it. If there were only half a dozen, the Ministry could handle it easily.

Over two dozen dragons, that's an army in itself!

He pondered his possibilities. One of the sons of the First Potter had been

a dragon tamer. Arwas Potter was the reason why a dragon was a symbol

of the Potter's Family Emblem and proof of their might in the 13th

century. His research had been the first to be transcribed in the Family

Grimoire after his memories were found in the Potter Manor vault.

Harry decided to revisit those recollections as soon as he had a moment.

Hogwarts and the Ministry would have to be prepared and placed on

high alert. Diagon Alley and Gringotts as well. Oh Merlin. The Goblins will

have a field day with this information.

"I assume they will be arriving soon?" He asked slowly.

Malfoy looked as if he expected the question. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow

evening at the latest."

"Then I will be swift." Harry said simply. All thoughts of dragons left his

mind as he noticed Malfoy shifting uncomfortably. Harry's mind quickly

linked Malfoy's willingness to provide the information to the rather

vague, blood-sealed letter he had sent Harry recently.

Let the political games begin, he sighed in his head.

"House Potter is more than grateful for your service and warnings. This is

the second time Dowager Malfoy has given us warning of Riddle's

activities... How can House Potter satisfy you, Lord Malfoy?"

Per tradition, Harry was only to state that House Potter was in House

Malfoy's debt, and Malfoy could cash in on the debt at a later time.

However, Harry preferred a direct approach. He also wanted to push

Malfoy's hand. Not to mention that such debts in precarious times like these

could be dangerous. A look of pure astonishment, then understanding and,

finally, reluctant respect flickered across the blonde's face. Harry already

knew what the blond would ask for. His letter vaguely hinted at his

intentions.

Malfoy cleared his throat and set the half-emptied cup down.

"House Malfoy finds itself in a particularly… unfortunate situation since

the demise of its previous Lord Malfoy." There are so many ways to

interpret that, Harry thought with a mental snort. "Due to the attack on

your person by the previous Lord Malfoy and our years of rivalry, House

Malfoy would like to show its goodwill towards House Potter. I propose

bringing our Families closer through matrimony to solidify a future of

mutual benefits."

Translation: no matter how many charity events she participates in or good PR

Narcissa Malfoy manages to bring home, Lucius' actions would continue to

besmirch their family name. Therefore, the only way to better their social

standing is to have some public form of forgiveness from himself and House

Potter.

Before today, Harry would have politely declined immediately. Now, he

saw it as a solution to two current Family issues: House Potter's

indebtedness to House Malfoy and Henriette's ambitious dreams of being

a Lady of a House. He had, of course, the legal authority to sign marriage

contracts for any women in his family. No Potter had used such a

contract for over two hundred years though. He could imagine the press

going crazy at the traditional and Dark action and the possible shifting of

his family's leanings.

As he contemplated in silence, Malfoy fidgeted more and more. He was

sure Malfoy did not come up with this by himself. This has Narcissa

Malfoy written all over it.

He nodded. Malfoy released a breath he had been holding. Let's see if he is

still relieved at the end of the conversation!

"I agree… under conditions. It will be the first time since 1722 that the

Potters issue a marriage contract." Sirius nearly dropped his cup, and

Hermione looked on the brink of exploding. Harry silenced both of them

with a piercing look. "The bride price will begin at two million galleons."

"Bu-but that is more than triple the highest this century!" The blond

exclaimed in shock. It was true. Narcissa Black's dowry of six hundred

thousand galleons had been the talk of all Europe in the seventies.

"She is worth much more," Harry bit out, "as a pureblood of over 15

generations. There will be no need for Inheritance Clause or Heir Clauses

for your children. And Henriette is a thoroughly trained and experienced

Lady Regnant of her House who is, as you mentioned, marrying the rival

of her Lord and the son of the man who all but assassinated her Lord -

this will be the first union of its sort. It is truly unprecedented!"

Malfoy looked a bit green, but he still nodded quickly. Harry suddenly

wished he had started off with a higher bid. If Malfoy can swallow this so

easily after the reparations for his family's financial donation to snakeface, the

Malfoy coffers must be deeper than we assumed.

"And to preserve the image of my House, you will declare House Malfoy

an Allied Grey House of House Potter."

Harry was sure he would be reviewing the memory of this night many

times just to see the fall of Malfoy's face over and over again.

The blond was rendered absolutely speechless.

"I expect an official announcement of the upcoming courtship and

inevitable wedding in the Daily Prophet after the first of December and by

Yuletide. I will have the Family Lawyers draw up a traditional contract

with respect to your stations." He stood, effectively ending the

conversation.

Malfoy accepted his offered hand before leaving the Manor in a rush.

"Harry-." Hermione began angrily.

He gave her such a penetrating look that she fell back in her seat.

"Do not." He said with authority. "Please do not presume that you can

debate with me on this. Do not assume I don't know how outdated and

misogynistic that was. Do not insult my intelligence. With one swoop, I

will give Henriette what she wants, Ladyship of a House, while defanging

multiple potentially dangerous enemies and relieving my House of

current and potential honor debts. That is how it is done! That is my

duty."

Sirius gave a sigh. "I don't disagree with your logic, pup. But I can't agree

with it either. I hope your cousin will be safe."

Harry nodded resolutely at him while blatantly ignoring Hermione's

reddened face. "Her well-being, despite her latest treachery, will be my

highest concern." He had an Unbreakable Oath in mind for ensuring

Henriette's safety once the courtship began.

At Sirius' confused look, and for the rest of the evening, Harry gave his

godfather a thorough briefing of Henriette's actions over the past weeks.

Hermione remained silent during the entire exchange. It was only after

Sirius' departure and after he had escorted her to the guest wing where

her parents were also situated for the night that she finally spoke to him.

"You have changed, Harry. You - you aren't the oblivious teenager who

depended on me for homework help anymore." She blew out an

exasperated puff of air. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around who this

new Lord Henry James Potter is. You have so many new opinions, new

responsibilities, and perspectives - and the knowledge you have… There

are many things I don't know about you…"

Thinking she was planning to estrange herself from him, Harry made to

speak, to explain to her that he was still the person essentially, but she

quickly interrupted him.

"But I would still like to get to know the man my best friend has become.

I would still like to be a part of your life. If you can bear my questions

and... outbursts, that is."

Harry gave a small, nervous laugh. "I would like that very much." He

gave her a large smile and stunned her with a light peck on the cheek as

he said goodnight.

She squeaked something in response and fled into her room with a red

face. Her departure meant she didn't notice his shaky movements as he

made his way back to his study.

I can't believe I did that.

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AN

I want to take a moment to give a shout-out to old-crow, one of my

favorite authors with some marvelous stories to her/his name. Thank you

for your reviews and for your feedback! I really appreciate it. Chapter 10

happens to be one of the chapters that I thoroughly enjoyed writing from

beginning to end. I'm happy you liked it as well.

I also apologize for giving King Kroniiclez heartburn with the plot twists

so far. :) And many thanks to David305 for his corrections!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially Therio! This feeds my

muse people so keep them coming! This story will conclude in a few

chapters with the possibility of two bonus chapter. If you have an

awesome idea, some constructive criticism or other cool thoughts, feel

free to hit me up.

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

14. Chapter 14: Tickle not

sleeping Potters

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Chapter Fourteen: Potters dormiens nunquam titillandus

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Harry sat in deep meditation. It was not the first nor would it be the last

time he meditated. His Occlumency shields required a minimum of three

to five hours every few days to stay strong. It was, however, his first time

ever doing so with Family Magik in the wardroom of Potter Manor.

It was possibly the most magical and transcendent feeling he had ever

had!

Potter Manor had been purposely built by his ancestors upon the

intersection of two of the largest and most powerful, magical ley lines in

Europe. These two "rivers of magic" branched off in multiple directions

over continental Europe, Eurasia, all the way to North America and

Africa. The fabled Atlantis was rumored to be located at the point where

the five largest ley lines converged in the North Sea. Besides Hogwarts,

which was built at the intersection of three such ley lines, no other

magical building in England had such uninhibited access to the abundant

"wild magic" within the earth.

And what an abundance it is!

Harry felt as if he were high on some psychedelic drug - if he went off of

Dudley's bragging with his friends after one of their "study sessions" - or

aimlessly floating hundreds of feet above the ground on his Firebolt.

He reclined upon an elevated slate of vortexite, the stone which

channeled and redirected the magical energy flow from the ley lines to

the nearly twenty transmission stones surrounding it. These connected

the excess magic which powered and warded Potter Manor to the

reception stones at Potter properties worldwide.

Each house had a different stone. The tiger ironstone, a native stone of

Australia, powered the sister stone at the Potter Country House in

Melbourne. A two-footed pillar of sunstone powered its sister stone at the

Potter Ranch in Austin, Texas. Each house also had its own focal and

ward stones, which ultimately connected them with their respective ley

line and with Potter Manor.

Surrounding Harry in a rather neat-looking concentric circle were

multiple stones, all with different meanings and properties. All of the

stones radiated an ethereal light and emitted such a powerful aura that

Harry was rendered light-headed when he opened his eyes.

Yet, he meditated comfortably in the presence of such magical power,

waiting for the moment of "amalgamation". While looking through the

Family's Grimoire, he stumbled across one of his ancestor's protective

measures for defending the wards against attacks from dragons and

drakens - and extinct and even more dangerous relative of dragons. This

amalgamation was how Leopold Potter II, the son of the First Potter and

the acclaimed geomagus of his age, described the moment of connection

to the wild magics of the ley lines when he built the original Potter

manor in the fifteenth century. Wild magic, historically tamed only by

the legendary Merlin, was the only sure defense against dragons. It was

rumored that they connected to wild magic on a level unfathomable to

humans, and that dragons respected the magic.

I can imagine why.

Harry recalled briefly the day Uncle Virgil showed him and Henriette the

wardroom upon his return from Australia some months ago. Henriette

nearly fainted as soon as the door was opened, overwhelmed by the

power in the room, and Uncle Virgil had appeared close to following her.

Harry recalled instantly feeling at home and energized.

He had been, and still was, awestruck by the room. The ward stones were

truly a thing of beauty. The raised platform of beautifully mixed red and

grey stone surrounded by nearly two dozen pillars of colorful mineral

stones. Everything pulsated with a powerful glow, creating a show of

light Harry could just watch it all day.

And watch, he did.

Today was the first time he had stepped foot into the room since he took

control of the wards - this time with the mission to bond more wild

magic to the Potter wardstones. The room had been his refuge after the

unnerving and uncomfortable breakfast that morning. It was full of

drama. Alexandra, Henriette's mom, had spent the first part of breakfast

trying to get Harry to rethink his decision in regard to making Henriette

a persona non grata to the Family and sending her to the dungeon.

"If traitors to our Family and Family traditions are allowed to run

rampant over everything this family has fought for, then I have failed in

my mission as Head of this Family!" Harry had growled pounding the

table furiously.

Alexandra had retired angrily to her chambers shortly thereafter.

Weirdly, Jonas followed her out, white-faced and shaky.

Uncle Milton and Uncle Orville feebly attempted to alleviate the tensions

at the table by debating some random sequence of Arithmancy. It had

fooled no one. Cousin Andrew and his fiancée Maeve excused themselves,

both throwing Harry heavy looks. Only Hermione seemed to be able to

understand them. FC took his breakfast in the library, leaving Harry

completely open to questions from the rest of the family.

And then the newspaper arrived...

Everyone seemed to have questions for him then. The Daily Prophet had

lauded his apparent escape from his Death Eater captives, and immediate

defense of St. Mungo's from a Death Eater attack like he was the second

coming of Merlin. Even Hermione's parents got in on shooting questions

at him as if he were some sort of oracle.

Needless to say, he happily escorted Hermione and her parents to the

door once they declared their intention to go home before he promptly

fled to the wardroom.

He knew he would not be able to run forever, and Uncle Virgil would

most likely be reaching out to him too once word of yesterday's events

reached him. Harry shivered at the potential reaction to how he dealt

with Henriette. Harry knew how much his great-granduncle wished to

reunite the two Lines although the man had never said so.

A wave of anger went through him before he forced himself to clear his

mind once more. He would deal with all of that once he increased the

protections around Potter Manor.

An inevitable attack by dragons was more important than smoothing over

some ruffled feathers. His desire to protect his family outweighed

everything.

After a few minutes of meditation; there was a brief moment when he felt

on the brink of something before it was simply gone again. He opened his

eyes in frustration. The flashing stones seemed to mock him with their

glowing dance.

Come on, Harry. You can do this!

Harry attempted once more to concentrate on… well, nothing. He closed

his eyes and fell back into a relaxed state.

Just when his mind had cleared of all thoughts, at the point where he

would normally begin with working on his Occlumency shields, he felt it

again.

His eyes flew open. There was that feeling again. He had felt something

similar moment to before his distracted mind had wandered. It was as

though someone or something was knocking on his entire being, more so

on his magical core, to let them in.

He suddenly felt giddy with excitement. He closed his eyes, steadied his

breathing and relaxed once more. He never noticed the increasing

intensity of the magic around him.

Something electric passed through him. A pulse of magic unlike any he

had felt before went up through the stone platform, charged through his

magical core and seemed to flow out of the very pores of his skin. It was

like a cautious animal, carefully testing to see if the coast were clear.

Harry's more cultivated magic seemed to encircle and observe this wilder

magic for a few moments before it tentatively reached out to it. Harry

lost track of time as the two magics slowly came closer and closer to one

another. He almost held his breath for fear of disturbing the interaction.

The moment the two magics touched, Harry was knocked flat onto his

back by the eruption and magnitude of the magic rushing through and

around him. His eyes flew open to a blinding illumination of flaring

colors from the ward stones. Try as he might, he could not close his eyes.

He later realized, after his initial moment of panic had passed, that he

felt no pain from the flare.

A growing discomfort within his magical core caught his attention. His

core struggled to accommodate, capture and refine the magic to be like

his own. That was probably what his ancestor had done, Harry

considered absently.

The discomfort quickly turned into a straining pain. The level of power

pulsing through him - it was simply too much for him or his magic to

tame, let alone channel. Harry quickly tried to redirect the power to the

ward stone for Potter Manor. He gave a small sigh of relief as the

pressure on his magical core lessened briefly.

Much like with a bucking hippogriff, the wild magic threw off his weak

reins. Harry lost control of the wild magic and felt the searing pain

building up again. His mouth opened in, what he believed to be, a silent

scream.

He convulsed erratically as the raging magic seemed to direct its ire

toward him for trying and failing to subdue it.

This level of sentience and pain had not been described by Leopold Potter,

Harry thought. In his ancestor's recollections, he mentioned a brief

merging of enormous magics, not that the magical mediator would be

harmed by the wild magic.

Leopold had also had years of practice with geomagic, Harry was quick to

remind himself. He had been suspected of being an Earth Elemental, one

of the five highest calibers of specialized sorcery.

His heart raced and the convulsions forced him to thrash slightly on the

stone platform. Harry made a split-second decision. He took a gasping

breath, and let go of the magic.

He had learned his lesson.

He simply would not be able to tame the wild magic inundating him from

the two ley lines. He pulled back his magic and let the wild magic charge

around and through him. He noticed an almost instantaneous change in

the behavior of the wild magic.

It seemed also as if it were excited now. It was almost playful as it

interacted with his core and his magic. Harry could feel himself smiling

even as his eyes watered from being held open for too long.

On a whim, Harry called on his Family Magik to join in, and it did so

quickly. The three magics mingled like three sister lionesses who had

been separated for years. They mingled, clashed, embraced and played

with each other.

Without warning, Harry felt the wild magic withdraw. He was able to

blink his eyes and move slightly. Just as he made to get up, a power

many times greater than the wild magic surged through him. His world

exploded in a plethora of positive sensations.

The overwhelming magic did not hurt, neither was it completely

comfortable and comforting. Harry's back arched on the platform. His

magic and the Family Magik attempted to protect him by pushing back

the flood of magic. His magical core strained once more.

"Be not afraid, childe. Embrace me." An ageless, genderless, yet caring

and a motherly voice said softly from all around and inside of him. It

carried with it a limitless power.

After a few long moments of hesitation, Harry stopped working against

the magic, took a deep breath - he hadn't come this far just to stop - and

accepted it. His world promptly exploded into a myriad of sensations and

colors. His magic and Family Magik rejoiced within and around him.

Both seemed to sing within his expanding core.

He wouldn't have traded the orgasmic feeling for anything in the world

in that moment.

"My Blessings are yours." Harry wasn't sure if he was too out of it or if the

voice actually spoke to him, but he moaned out loud as the sensations

intensified once more.

After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, the magic receded. Harry

could still feel it lingering in his core and around his body, but its

magnitude had lessened.

He took a few moments to catch his breath. He felt energized like never

before. He could wrestle a bear with his bare hands if he wanted to. Even

the pain in his toe, from stubbing it that morning, was gone. He opened

his eyes to a room so bright that he was forced to quickly close his eyes.

He quickly transfigured his simple glasses into sunglasses - wandlessly, he

later noted - and opened his eyes once more. His jaw dropped.

Each of the many pillars surrounding him was glowing spectacularly.

They shone in unison with three blithesome swirls of light.

Harry stood up quickly and took in the room. He could feel the presence

of his magic, Family Magik, and the original wild magic filling the room.

They had merged.

Maybe this is what Leopold meant by 'amalgamation'? It was definitely…

unexpected.

For once, he was happy with the odd magical phenomena that always

seemed to happen to him. He now found himself able to assess and access

each ward at each Potter property on a whim. The strength of many

wards had increased tenfold, some even more. Many practically hummed

with power.

'The wonders of magic' as FC would say.

His connection to each of the wards was so intimate that Harry knew he

had somehow managed to imbue his own power into all Potter wards. He

could sense that the rodent removal charm on the house in France was

failing and that there was a log cabin in Canada that no one had visited

in over 200 years. He knew that he could have the wards do whatever he

wanted them to. He wondered briefly if he could activate the defenses if

he was not in the same country, or use them as one would a wand. Both

ideas, he decided to test after he had talked to his uncles Milton and FC.

This most likely won't stop a dozen dragons, but it should keep them at bay

until I can get some help.

He wondered briefly if that was how Madeleine Potter, née Lovegood,

had re-warded all Potter properties. Harry hadn't been able to find any

entries from her in the Potter Grimoire.

She might not have been allowed to create an entry since she wasn't born a

Potter.

He left the brightly lit room with a wide smile on his face.

As he made his way through the tunnels that led up to the ground floor,

he paused briefly at the entrance to the dungeons, all thoughts on the

brief connection to Lady Magic leaving his mind. Henriette normally

would have been the first person he told about what he had just

experienced. He had a feeling though that the news would only upset

her. Taunting her was not his intention.

Power hungry she might have been, but she did nothing to deserve disrespectful

mocking. He made his way slowly up through the dungeons to the ground

floor.

He was greeted in the entrance hall by over a hundred, silent Potter

house elves. Dali and Kali stood in the front of the masses along with the

twenty or so head elves of all Potter properties. Harry had a flashback to

his first day in the manor where he had bonded with each elf

individually. He had gotten to know Dali, Kali and two of the elves in

Australia personally since they had accompanied him under the time-

bubble.

Their presence reminded him to work on a small elf party for the

Yuletide Gathering. He knew that the house elves would not celebrate

with the wizards, especially the older and more traditional ones. But

maybe he could get them to at least celebrate with each other.

"Master Harry?" Kali spoke out from the front, unsure and more in awe

than usual. "Lady Magicness has given you her Blessing. We is pleased to

be serving her through you!" He fell to his knees. The other elves quickly

followed suit.

Just as Harry began to tell the elves to rise, he saw one very familiar elf

without a typical Potter crest. "Dobby? Is that you?"

Dobby's ears wagged while kneeling with the others. "Master Harry

remembers lowly Dobby?!"

Harry shared a meaningful look with Kali. Was Dobby the elf he was

referring to yesterday? How on Earth did they even get acquainted?

"Of course I remember you. How could I ever forget how you tried to

save my life?" It took all of his self-control to not emphasize the word

"tried". He remembered all too well Dobby's violent attempts to keep him

out of harm's way during his second year at Hogwarts.

The other elves looked at Dobby in complete and utter adoration. Harry

could tell that Dobby would soon be a hero amongst the other elves.

Dobby went red at the glorification. Harry almost laughed at the

amusing, giddy twitching of Dobby's ears.

"Kali, please instruct my friend Dobby in the ways of the Potter elves and

bring him to me when you believe him ready." Kali nodded seriously, and

Dobby appeared to have a heart attack after being called Harry's "friend".

He quickly ordered all of the other elves to rise and sent them back to

their duties. They seemed more than excited to receive new orders from

him. The marble floors of the grandiose entry hall seemed to shine even

more than usual, and the lights burned livelier.

I wonder what else has changed since I… amalgamated with the wild magic

powering the wards.

Just as Harry made his way toward the staircase to go to his study, FC

came flying down the staircase.

"I don't know what you did, but the floo has been burning non-stop.

Potters all over the world are registering changes in their house wards."

FC said with his wand out, casting a complementary diagnostic spell at

Harry. "Your mag levels are absolutely off the charts, and the house feels

like it's about to explode with power!"

The man sounded so excited that Harry could only laugh his way through

an explanation of what happened to him in the wardroom.

FC only shook his head in disbelief.

"Only you. Really! Only you could have something like this happen. Only

you would get Lady Magic's blessings while trying to strengthen house

wards." Harry agreed completely, having thought the same only minutes

ago. "But that's not the only reason I sought you out! Come quickly!"

Harry was then grabbed by the shoulder and all but carried up the stairs.

"We've finally made a breakthrough with the dark mark research." His

uncle gushed. "I just received a compiled summary from the

Unspeakables here. They might be behind the times, but they do great

work."

The man practically shook with excitement. Harry found himself growing

more and more excited. The enthusiasm was definitely addicting.

After they reached the library in record time - thanks again to the Merlin-

blessed, enchanted stairs, Harry asked his questions.

"What can we do with it? What do we need in order to do it?"

His uncle pulled him over to a table with one single piece of parchment

on it.

"What can we do - what can't we do is a better question!" He thrust Harry

into a seat and sat across from him. "Our research hit a wall since none of

us could speak parseltongue, and we didn't want to use you since Riddle

used your blood to get his body. Who knows how the mark would have

reacted in your presence. We've remedied that with the assistance of a

trained, Indian parselmouth. They provide their services for a pretty

steep fee. If you ever need to make some quick money, you should think

of doing the same!"

"I would rather not sell my abilities," Harry said with a laugh.

"I prefer to call it, utilizing your resources to get more resources," FC said

with a grin and a shrug.

He pushed the paper towards Harry who read the offered parchment with

gusto.

'Tests on six subjects over the age of twenty confirm an unimaginable reaction

to -' blablabla… Ah, here we go! 'Proper access to the mark allows for

following: summoning, inflicting various amounts of pain, draining magic...'!

This is amazing… We could do so much more than we imagined to the Death

Eaters.

He turned slowly to his uncle with a dropped jaw as he reached the final

points on the page, able to 'murder of more weak-minded servants'. "If

this…" He cleared his throat. "If this is true…"

FC summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses. "... we can disable

his entire army without the wards we put up in the Ministry and St.

Mungo's."

"Did you figure out how the Death Eaters got into St. Mungo's?" Harry

asked spontaneously. The attack had been on his mind a lot lately.

FC nodded. "We assume that one or more members of the hospital staff

could be Riddle's minion. We believed that they found a way around the

wards by confounding one of the warders into believing they had

successfully and securely warded a section of the entrance."

"It could only have been the healer on duty or the welcome witch. They

were the only staff members I saw." Harry said.

FC nodded. Harry took that to mean he would look into those suspects.

Harry sat back in his chair with the parchment in his hands. The

prospects were good - great even. Could it really be this simple to end this

war?

"What about snakeface? Can we get him too with this information?"

FC shook his head. "We decided not to probe too deeply lest he noticed it.

We cannot create or destroy the mark since it is connected to Riddle's

magic and life force. But we can replicate it and isolate it to keep it from

killing someone or draining them of magic." He poured two glasses. "Oh,

and two of my colleagues believe they might have found the soul piece in

the school. Only the one in Gringotts will be left."

Harry was astonished. "How…"

FC gave a deep laugh as he offered Harry a glass of the fiery red liquid.

"When we… removed you from the Hospital Wing," his voice suddenly

solemn, "two of us stayed to scout out the area. Using Riddle's signature

from the soul fragment that used to be in your head, we were able to

locate and disable three curses linked to him and the horcrux.

Apparently, the soul piece is located in a secret room on the seventh floor

of the school. We will need you to grab it, Lord Gryffindor."

Harry merely nodded his head, catching on to what they needed him to

do. How did Dumbledore never notice the magic of the horcrux or the curses?

Maybe he had...

He shook those disturbing thoughts out of his head.

"We've also received word that snakeface went to the cave with one of his

idiotic servants to grab the locket." FC raised his glass in a toast. Harry

quickly returned the gesture. "He was apparently furious when he left."

Harry noticed FC steadying himself as he considered how to deliver the

next part.

"Well?" Harry asked after a few, long moments of silence.

FC sighed. "He had Jonas with him." Harry's heart dropped. He hadn't

even known that the blond was missing. If he remembered correctly,

snakeface had left a terrible potion that had to be drunk in order for the

locket to be retrieved. Oh, Jonas.

For an instant, he felt as if he had been a terrible Lord Potter until FC

continued. "Jonas is one of his."

Harry promptly choked on this burning alcohol.

He quickly revisited his interactions with his blond cousin over the past

months. He did not doubt FC's intel, and he did not put it past Jonas to

do such a thing. The blond had been dodging at least and doing all he

could to avoid Harry lately. His loathing was most likely too deep to be

satisfied by the financial power Harry had given him.

Were his ambitions for the Potter Lordship really that extreme that he would

betray his family?

Harry still saw it as his fault for not noticing. He had yet to use the

Family Magik to ascertain the loyalty of any of his cousins. He thought it

excessive and had worried that it would be seen by all to be a sign of his

distrust. Maybe I could have prevented Henriette from going bat-shit crazy

from power and Jonas from joining the enemy.

I'm too trusting. And it had almost been his downfall with both Henriette

and Jonas. He closed his eyes in pain. I wonder if this is how Sirius felt

when he learned of Wormtail's betrayal or that his brother had joined

snakeface.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, not even bothering to shudder as

steam puffed from his ears. His mind was connecting dots and making

plans at a rapid pace.

FC had waited patiently for at least five minutes and poured them

another glass of Odgen's finest before Harry spoke again.

"This is what we are going to do…"

Neither knew explicitly then that they were at a true turning point in the

war, but both felt it. What became known as the Firewhiskey Decision

would be told to future generations of Potters for centuries to come. It

was a lesson in how to be a true Lord Potter, how to masterfully deal

simultaneously with enemies inside and outside the Family. It was a

lesson in how to change the world.

.

.

.

.

Damn him! DAMN HIM!

Voldemort had crucioed everyone in sight upon his return to his manor.

Even Nagini was avoiding him for fear of catching his ire.

Damn Regulus Black to the pits of any and every hell! He hoped his death in

the cave had been excruciatingly long and painful.

His excessive use of Dark Magik left him light-headed and weaker than

he had been since his resurrection. He threw everyone from his throne

room and collapsed into his throne, furious and exhausted.

It was simply not possible. How did Black find out about my horcruxes?! He

knew it was a silly and rhetorical question. The Blacks had delved into

the darkest of dark arts. They were bound to have information on

horcruxes in their libraries. It was one reason why he trusted their family

with three of his treasures. Any other family would have been disgusted

with, too intrigued or frightened by the aura of death magic.

He had merely misplaced his trust in the young Black heir.

After the devastating revelation in the cave, Voldemort had simply left

the blond Potter weakened and crying at the entrance while he went to

check his others horcruxes.

Gone. Each and every one of them!

He threw back his head and roared in fury. His destructive magic shaking

and upturning everything in its path.

He panted and trembled from head to toe. Magical exhaustion was

beginning to set in.

First Azkaban, then St. Mungos and now this…

Many foreign emotions struck the Darkest Lord of the century. Fear,

apprehension and other weaknesses he thought he had bested decades

ago.

He immediately made his way to his potions lab, sending Death Eaters

scrambling to get out of his way. He would have to prepare the potion

and ritual for creating another horcrux. He could take no chances. This

horcrux will be tossed into the Channel if need be. Or… He glanced at his

wand. His wand was the only thing in the world that he treasured and

kept on his person at all times.

It will do.

He would have Bellatrix retrieve the goblet from Gringotts, and Snape

the one in Hogwarts, and place them with Nagini under Fidelius.

Maybe he would join Bellatrix. He was sure that his horcruxes had yet to

be destroyed. Maybe they were floating around on the black market

somewhere. Snape mentioned how Sirius Black had thrown out all of the

dark objects from his family house and that Mundungus Fletcher had

stolen quite a few things to sell. The blood traitor Black would not have

known what the treasures were, neither from knowledge nor from his

estranged brother.

Maybe I can locate them with the right financial incentive in the right places…

He would need to withdraw from the Slytherin vault.

Yes. He would join Bellatrix. He would have a few of the dragons

currently hidden in his underground hall with him just in case the

Goblins caused problems with Hufflepuff's goblet.

No, I don't want to reveal them to the world yet. They will be for my taking

over the Ministry and getting the forsaken prophecy. Bella and I can handle

the Goblins on our own. The cup will have to do for my regeneration, he

thought, re-planning quickly. He would need to make his seventh, backup

horcrux now and prepare for the ritual to absorb the one in the cup.

He didn't mind looking fifty years younger. It was the loss of the many

rituals he had undergone afterward to his body that annoyed him the

most - and the fear that his horcruxes had been discovered and destroyed

by the traitor Black.

This is not the end, he promised himself just as he had done when he sent

Bellatrix to Romania a few days prior. It is merely an obstacle before the

beginning.

.

.

.

.

Henriette sat in meditation in the dark and dreary dungeon, not knowing

that her cousin was doing the same a few yards beneath her in the

wardroom to prepare for his mission. She had eaten the meals she was

given, relieved herself in the bucket that was caringly provided, and

carried herself with the dignity of a lady imprisoned in her own castle.

Inside, she was a broken woman. She, like Harry, was two years mentally

and physically older due to their time under the time-bubble. They were

both youthful and robust. It was almost unnatural for her to feel like her

life was over. Yet, she did. Her internal turmoil was overwhelming.

I feel like a beaten, old spinster.

Ever since her former, personal elf, Dali, unceremoniously dropped her

on the floor of the cell she currently inhabited without a wand or a

change of clothes, she had found herself meditating more and more. Only

her dark thoughts and regrets kept her company.

She no longer felt the nurturing warmth of the Family Magik in the

Manor. Where that warmth once was, an empty cold ache filled its place.

She had felt something ... something overwhelmingly powerful, a few

meals ago - meals now being her only way of telling how much time was

passing with no sun, watch or wand to help her - but she had felt nothing

since. Her sense of time had long since departed.

She had not expected Henry to react so strongly to her actions and plans.

He surprised her with his punishment, his besmirching and all but

disownment. She had expected clemency, having never known him to be

so cold and judicious.

She had truly expected Harry to fold and visit her within a few hours.

He had not.

It was only after her eighth meal that she received any contact from the

world beyond her cell. Henry's note, which she had received a meal ago,

lay crumbled on the small nightstand by her rather simple bed and

similar wash area.

The note from Henry had been brief, but that was not a surprise. He had

always been of few words. She recalled a time she had complained about

that to her mother under the time-bubble.

"That's just how most wizards are." Her mother had said in total

commiseration. "Your father - Merlin bless his soul - was the same. Broody,

emotionally disoriented and a man of few words, but he had a caring heart of

gold and more redeeming qualities than I could count. I imagine that is how

Lord Henry will be with you." She gave a small smile and bid Henriette good

night.

Henriette scoffed. Unfortunately, she was only half right. Henry will be all of

those things, just not with me.

Henry's biting words about never marrying her had been her main

tormentor. The thought of marrying her cousin wasn't as revolting for her

as it apparently was to him. She had to remind herself that he had had a

completely different upbringing than she. Incest encompassed many more

degrees of familiarity among the non-mags than among wizards. Still, she

and Henry would have most likely been able to marry within the non-

mag world as well.

This is all because of that… that Granger girl!

She knew that Henry was still pining after his bushy-haired friend. He

wanted to marry her, for whatever reason.

And as punishment for her ambitious actions, Henriette was being forced

to marry Henry's rival, the son of the man who had tried to kill him.

His note was very clear. She had re-read the piece of paper many times

just to make sure she had not missed anything, nearly committing it to

memory. She was being used as a bartering tool.

Henriette Marie, the note read. It was truly hard for me to make the decision

I have. You know how much I hate the Pureblood Ways. Lord Malfoy has

asked for your hand in marriage. In order to resolve all debts incurred

between our Houses, to give you the opportunity to be the Lady of a House -

which was your wish, and to stymie any and all future schemes from House

Malfoy, I acquiesced. You will be the Potter eyes in the Malfoy household.

Your bride price will be triple the highest ever recorded and will be stored in a

trust fund for only you and your children to access. I will also ask your

opinion of the marriage contract being drawn up by our lawyers. Your security

and health will be my utmost concern before signing anything.

So it ended, abrupt, cold and inconsiderate of her feelings and wishes.

And Henry swears he hates the Pureblood Ways! Henriette gave a loud,

scornful laugh. That was the epitome of a pureblood decision.

Henriette figured that she would be released when it was time to

commence her courting with Lord Malfoy, a man she had never met.

She had cried and tantrumed once the news set in, but now, a meal later,

she could see the benefits. She was a bred and trained Lady of the highest

pedigree. She had an intimate connection to her Family Magik. She

would most likely not be happy with the man, but she would make the

most of the situation, of his social standing, circles, etc.

She would be the first ever Lady Malfoy, née Potter. She would bring a

disgraced House to the top of the social echelon! And she would go down

in history for her actions.

I will make Henry regret trying to push me away like a wayward child. No

matter if it takes me years or decades, I will show him and his first gen. floozy

who the better Lady Potter is!

She reclined on her hard mattress with a grim smirk. She would show

him.

.

.

.

.

Harry sat in his study with Snape, Sirius, Remus, Bill Weasley, and his

uncles FC, Milton, and Orville. He had spent the entire evening going

back and forth with FC on their plans before he retired to the wardroom

to meditate some more.

He and FC had come up with a rather extensive plan to crush Voldemort

and his Death Eaters for good. Harry was introducing it to the men who

would help him carry it out.

"That's a lot to accomplish..." Sirius groaned, his eyes contradicting his

tone with their sharpness.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yet, it is quite feasible. This is the plan I was

waiting for… Lord Potter." He gave Harry a respectful nod.

That's it. The world must be ending. Harry returned the nod, hiding his

surprise well.

"It's feasible since your wand most likely won't be in the battle with ours!"

Sirius snarked. A small bickering match ensued that had everyone

shaking their heads. If it weren't for the fact that the two men were

declared enemies, Harry would assume that they were already married.

Their spats seemed to be getting more and more superficial and half-

hearted, almost as if they just wanted to see who could top the other in a

verbal sparring. This was the third spat they had since they arrived just

over two hours ago. Harry was now absolutely sure that there was some

pent-up sexual tension there. And from the way Bill was glaring at the

Potions Master, Harry could sense a storm of drama building up on the

horizon.

Merlin forbid! A Black, his sworn enemy, and a Weasley - thrown in for kicks

and giggles - get swept up in a love triangle. Harry was quite sure the world

was not ready for such a show.

"I've already told you, Black. The Dark Lord is weakened now." Snape

spat. "His creation of another horcrux has left his magic so unstable that

he can't even punish his lower ranking Death Eaters anymore. He lets

Bellatrix play with them." Everyone shuddered at what the deranged

woman could even consider to be "playing". "Since the failed attack on St.

Mungos, he has been getting more and more desperate. The time to act is

now!"

Harry completely agreed with Snape.

His respect for his potions professor had skyrocketed over the past two

hours. Apparently, news of Voldie's rage and tantrums had made its

rounds amongst his servants. Once Voldemort sent for Snape and ordered

him to receive a "special artifact" from the Room of Requirements, Snape

had wisely put two and two together and assumed snakeface had

discovered his horcruxes to be missing and wanted to secure the

remaining ones.

Snape quickly grabbed the horcrux from the nearly emptied school and

rushed to Potter Manor before anyone could stop or question him -

anyone being Dumbledore. FC lit up like a baby when he was presented

with the trinket. Harry still wasn't sure if he was happy to hold such a

fabled piece of history or if he was just ecstatic to have another horcrux.

"So, snakeface - as Harry loves to call him - has the snake, a new horcrux

and will try to get the chalice as soon as he's well." Remus summarized.

"Who's to say he won't just send Lestrange to retrieve it?"

That sent a pause through the group. It was of course in Bellatrix's vault.

Voldemort couldn't grab it alone even if he wanted to.

Harry thought furiously for a moment. The only way to get Voldemort to go

himself is to make him either worried about the cup or angry enough to get

information from the Goblins about…

He slapped his hand to his head. "I'm a bloody idiot!"

Sirius stepped on Snape's foot as the man's mouth opened happily to

respond to - and most likely agree with - Harry's self-deprecating

comment. To everyone's surprise, Snape actually did go silent and did not

retaliate. Remus looked on in shock, and Bill observed in fury.

Harry ignored the weird scene playing out in front of him. He turned to

Milton and Sirius.

"If someone breaks a marriage contract, it is considered null and void."

He stated to his Uncle Milton who nodded slowly in agreement. His

knowledge of the law, especially regarding the Olde Ways worldwide,

was well-regarded.

"For most Families, there is a clause or two dedicated to this. It was made

standard procedure after the eighteen hundreds." His uncle supplied.

"And if, in the Black Family, this happens, the Black member's property

and monies are returned to the Family vault?" He asked Sirius.

That was also the standard procedure in the Potter Family when they still

used marriage contracts. Sirius was pensive for a moment before also

nodding. The Blacks did the same.

Harry made a mental note to delve into the Black Ways as soon as he had

a free moment.

FC's eyes widened before he too slapped himself on the head.

Harry blew out an exasperated breath. Why didn't we think of this before?

"Sirius, go to Gringotts and declare the Lestrange marriage to Bellatrix

null and void. FC is 100% sure that the cup was placed in the vault by

her. So-."

"The cup will be sent to the Black Family vault. Got it! You're coming

with me, brainy. I'm sure you can find a loophole faster than I can!"

Sirius said grabbing Milton by the shoulder and all but dragging the man

from the room. It was definitely amusing to see the stiff Milton adhering

to the child-like Sirius.

"Remus, could you and Orville write an article on the Potters inheriting

the Slytherin Heirship and vaults? I'll submit it in my name, to ensure

that snakeface goes to the bank to get that straightened out and to pick

up the cup with Bellatrix."

"That is a sound plan. It will definitely drive the Dark Lord out of his

manor." Snape said slowly. "What does that do for us? We will already

have the cup in our possession. Such an action would only serve to anger

him."

Harry smiled.

Snape's eyes widened in approval. "You wan-. The Goblins-." The man

looked at FC in shock. "He's serious?"

"No, I believe Sirius just left." FC deadpanned. Harry coughed to hide his

snicker. "But, Potions Master Snape-Prince does have a point." Harry

never understood why FC felt the need to call Snape that. Snape almost

always winced and glared at the man. "Why spend so much time and

effort on this? We need to get to Slytherin's Chambers and harvest the

basilisk remains there, get the Dragons from under Riddle's control and-"

"-and rescue my brother!" Bill interjected. "Nothing I've heard so far - and

I have been unnaturally patient - has even touched on rescuing Charlie!"

Harry nodded. "We will do all of that. We are still missing two people.

When they are here, we will discuss the rescue bit."

"No. We will discuss and do something now!" The redhead exploded.

"Dumbledore would have-."

"Do I look like Albus FUCKING Dumbledore?" Harry growled, his magic

whipping around him as he merely stared Bill down. "And what is

Dumbledore's plan for rescuing Charlie?"

Bill's face reddened as he sat down. His silence was enough of an answer

for the room. Remus and Snape had already informed him that the Order

had met immediately after the attack on St. Mungos to squabble about

everything and decided to do nothing. As usual. The Dragons were a

concern for Dumbledore, but he had nothing in his arsenal to battle so

many of them.

"We can't rescue Charlie until snakeface and Bellatrix are not in the

manor. Regardless of how vulnerable we think he is, snakeface still just

managed to do the impossible and unknowingly create an eighth horcrux

while under a magic-inhibiting spell! His magical reserves are either

completely depleted or his power levels are beyond what we assumed. If

you want to go off on some harebrained rescue mission under the slight

chance that he can't hurt you, feel free, but you will go alone! You will

not get any of us killed. Or you wait and let us plan like adults..." The

loudmouth gave him a rather rude glare but shut up nonetheless.

"Remus, Uncle Orville-," Harry said turning back to them.

"Already going." Remus declared, sharing a look with Orville before they

left, speaking in hurried whispers as they did.

After a few moments, Harry sealed the room and spoke openly to FC,

Snape, and Bill.

"Sorry about that, Bill. Unfortunately, we couldn't speak about the attack

on snakeface's manor with Jonas' father still in the room."

Bill looked confused but kept quiet. Harry realized his magic was still

pulsing angrily through the room and quickly retracted it.

"Jonas Potter is a traitor to my family. He is one of snakeface's servants

now." Harry explained coldly.

Snape sighed suddenly. Harry eyed the man curiously. Ah, a Fidelius

Charm most likely. It would not surprise Harry if snakeface had placed the

information that Jonas Potter was a Death Eater under some secrecy

spell. It was his trump card against the Potters. After uncovering the

traitor, Harry had briefly wondered why Snape had not told already

informed him. It's good that I didn't interrogate the man like FC wanted…

Who knows what snakeface's curse would have done to him.

"We will use Jonas' magical signature to enter the wards unharmed. And

one of us will use Professor Snape's." Harry held up a hand to prevent the

incoming questions. "Yes, we will and can use Potter spells to copy

magical signatures. No, we don't use this for nefarious reasons."

"It's actually a rather uncomfortable thing to do. Your magic fights the

foreign signature after a while. I believe it's one of the reasons why

magical children usually take on a magical signature similar to that of

their mothers. The mother's magical signature usually beats the father's

into submission unless the father's magic is very strong. Then it usually

means a rather painful pregnancy and…" FC swallowed his next words as

everyone stared at him for going off on a tangent. "Well, I never!" He

said, turning his nose up at them.

Harry just shook his head and ignored his uncle. Sometimes, I don't know

what to do with him.

"As I said, with the two signatures, Bill and I will enter the manor. FC

will have his own secrecy magic to hide his presence." Harry would need

his cloak from the Australian Unspeakables to break into Hogwarts with

Snape. "We will need to be swift. I will go for the snake, FC the new

horcrux, and Bill will find and free his brother. We will meet up here. Get

in, do your thing, and get out."

Everyone nodded, and Harry quickly wrote the location of a hidden

Potter property down on a scrap of paper. "Bill, tell your brother that

there is a Potter Property on an island in Ireland that should be big

enough for the dragons. It is under the Fidelius so I've written the secret

down for you... And make sure you release all captured prisoners and

dragons. FC and I are aiming to destroy the manor after you guys leave."

Bill nodded once more, taking the offered paper.

Harry turned to Snape. "Professor, you and I will go render the Basilisk

down in the meantime."

"But -." Bill made to interrupt, but FC pointed to this watch. "Huh? Ah,

right! Time magic. Sorry, I forgot." The redhead said abashedly.

"When do we depart?" Snape said, looking more excited that Harry had

ever seen him.

"We have to wait for Remus and Orville to finish, and for their article to

get published. I think it will be tomorrow morning at the latest. I have a

few letters to write and a meeting with Minister Longbottom. Let's meet

up for breakfast tomorrow morning. I'll let you know if we can make our

move earlier." Snape nodded and left.

Harry caught Bill by the shoulder before he could depart as well. He

could see the bloodlust, pain and anxiety in the redhead's eyes. "Don't

worry. Voldemort wanted your brother and the other Tamers alive. I'm

sure he will be fine." Harry reassured persuasively and with ardor. He

could see the man's shoulders relax somewhat.

"I hope you're right, Potter." He said and departed from the room.

Harry sighed and immediately got to writing his correspondence, making

his floo calls and punctually made it to his appointment with the

Minister. He swiftly made his way through the Ministry and made sure to

speak to as many people along his way as possible. The more people

assured of his goodwill, and the more he talked to on a personal level,

the easier it was for him at difficult sessions. And the easier it will be to

push harder policies through, as he found out during his meeting with the

Minister.

After he informed her of his plans, Minister Longbottom surprisingly did

not push for more details. She seemed to expect Harry to succeed with

his mission.

"It was foolish of my predecessor to go against you, Lord Potter. You are

a politically and magically powerful young man. I do not need to

question many of the things you do." She said when he confronted her

with her lack of questions. "Young Neville has had nothing but good

things to say about your character, and your selfless actions thus far have

proven his claims to be true. Your plans have also yet to fail, and I'm

counting on this one not to either. Please don't let my hope in you have

been misplaced." Completely out of character, she gave Harry a biscuit

and a pat on the cheek.

After subtly checking the minister for any forms of mind-controlling,

polyjuicing, and other potions, Harry left her office with a lighter heart

and yet with a bit more responsibility on his shoulders that he would

have preferred.

He quickly checked in on Remus and Orville's progress once he returned

to the Manor. Pleased as he was with the results, he still added his own

writing to parts of their draft. If they were lucky, they might just make the

evening newspaper. He left them with instructions to send it off in his

name when they were sure it was good.

He managed to relax only when he returned to the wardroom. The wild

magic seemed to call out to his own magic to play. Family Magik hovered

around him like a middle child waiting to be invited to play with its

oldest and youngest siblings. Harry fell into a deep meditation as the

magics played, tested and, apparently, strengthened each other.

It felt like only minutes had passed when the Manor wards tapped him to

alert him to Sirius and others entering the wards. Indeed, it was already

morning. His magic sang to him like a devoted phoenix and the Family

Magik seemed to surround like a comforting and protecting mother.

Harry walked into the dining hall where everyone was congregated - and

looking a bit peckish - while still connected to the wild magic and the

Family Magik. Bill Weasley was the first to respond to the glowing,

vibrant-eyed youth. With his line of work, he knew true power when he

saw it. He bowed his head respectfully, the others followed suit.

"Lord Potter." Bill greeted in awe.

Snape flashed a genuinely rident smile for the first time in many years.

He knew at that moment he had chosen the correct side to fight for.

"Are we ready?" Harry asked. Balmy magic, regardless of origin, hummed

around him.

They were.

.

.

.

.

It was the first time in her young adult life that Hermione would have an

autumn breakfast with her parents. They extended their holidays by a

few weeks due to her hospitalization over a week ago. Their patients

were referred to their closest friend and colleague, Dr. Rollworth. Their

dental practice was closed, but their mobile phone had rung often over

the past three days she had been home. She had never expected her

parents to forward all calls to their voicemail and to put her before their

work and research.

She could tell that her parents were happy to spend more time with her.

And with Hogwarts being closed indefinitely, her parents used the time

to learn what their daughter had truly been up to in the wizarding world.

They demanded a detailed play-by-play of her four and a half years at

Hogwarts.

And I'm finally getting to know the true extent of dad's magical knowledge.

The time they spent together since her premature release was used well

in her opinion. Although she exchanged a letter each with Ron, Neville

and Harry, she spent more time getting to know her father.

Or, as he put it, interrogating him 'to kingdom come!'

He didn't seem upset with her curiosity. It just seemed to sadden him,

talking about his childhood. She had always thought he had been

neglected, somewhat like Harry had. Apparently, her suspicions were

nearly right.

After the third glass of whiskey last night, Hermione nearly had her

father in tears as she began her psychoanalysis of his feelings and

memories. She was curious about the Dagworth-Grangers, but she wanted

nothing to do with them. It was her belief that a letter from her and her

father on how inhumanely the family had treated him and how they

wanted nothing to do with the purebloods would allow her father to have

the peace of mind he deserved.

She had added her final touches to the letter before she was called down

for breakfast.

In their quaint - though rather large for three people - kitchen, her

mother was serving eggs, and her father nursed a rather strong-smelling

cup of coffee.

"Good morning, dear." Her mother greeted as she took her seat.

Hermione smiled as her father grunted a few words of greeting. For

someone who equates handling liquor with masculinity, he sure turned into a

baby after two drinks.

Breakfast was eaten in a comfortable silence.

When the post owls arrived, Hermione paid the newspaper little

attention. She expected the letters from Neville and Ron. Harry had told

her that he would be busy for the next few days, but that she could

expect a visit from him afterward.

"Oh my." Her mother gasped as she read the title page of the Daily

Prophet. Her father choked on his coffee. Hermione's heart dropped as she

put down the letters. What now?

As she attempted to grab the newspaper, her mother slapped her hand

and neatly hid the newspaper behind her back.

"Now, now, my little queen! You know the rules. We take turns."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her hands found her hips. Hugh hid a

smile behind his coffee cup. It was always amusing to see the two argue,

especially since Hermione took after her mother so much.

"I know a spell to close cavities…" Hermione threatened. She knew how

much her parents hated the use of magic to heal dental problems. They

flipped a script when they found she had her teeth reduced by Madame

Pomfrey last year. She understood now her father's agitation and would

never bring up his difficult past with magic by even alluding to such. Her

mother was a completely different story. And she has two cavities.

Her mother paused, deeply stunned. "You wouldn't dare!"

Hermione merely twirled her wand. She had not been able to use magic

outside of school before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned.

Voldemort, she quickly reminded herself, remembering how much Harry

hated the moniker. The rules regarding underage magic had relaxed

somewhat since then. As much as she wanted to summon the paper out

of her mother's hands, she was sure that the monitors in the Ministry

would still register the magic used.

"Mom… please." She gestured to the paper. "I just want to make sure

everyone is all right!"

Her mother sighed. "Just promise me you will not fly off the handle."

Hermione nodded quickly, stowing away her wand. Her mother handed

her the paper and sat down to her breakfast once more.

Expecting another mind-blowing article about He-W- Voldemort like the

one from yesterday on him no longer being the Heir of Slytherin,

Hermione still could not believe what her eyes read. She read the article

aloud in shock.

Lord Potter Strikes Fear into Riddle

Riddle's Manor destroyed, over 30 Death Eaters killed

by Penelope Clearwater

At a press conference that began at eight yesterday evening, the Minister's

Office and Lord Potter released the details of Lord Potter's latest actions in

response to his own kidnapping and the attacks on Hogwarts and St. Mungos.

At approximately nine o'clock yesterday morning, Lord Potter and a small

team of Ministry-sanctioned forces (possibly the same wizards and witches

who partook in the Battle of Azkaban) entered the manor that housed Riddle's

forces. Though Lord Potter was tight-lipped about details, he revealed the

following:

"My team entered the manor, freed all captives and leveled the building upon

departure with no casualties and minimum injuries for our people." Lord

Potter himself glowed with pride at the accomplishment and seemed

unharmed.

The names of the released captives have yet to be released to the public. A list

of all fallen Death Eaters can be found on Page 3, confirmed by Goblin

representatives of the Heritage Office.

"Yes, they are dead. No, I don't care what you miserable mammals do to each

other." The spokesgoblin declared.

This is interesting; if Goblins are not mammals, how can you have

crossbreeds?

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department of Mysteries

are currently reviewing Lord Potter's and his team's memories of the battle. An

official statement is expected by this evening. For more information, stay tuned

to The Daily Prophet channel of the Wizarding Wireless.

Lord Potter considered this attack a necessity.

"It was time to go on the offensive. Too many innocents have died while Tom

has gone unchecked." Lord Potter declared last night in the Minister's Office.

The power of his aura moved all who were present. "No longer will we stand

by and allow snakefac- ah Tom and his servants to hurt and kill our innocent

loved ones! It's time for us all to take a stand!"

Many Wizengamot members applauded Lord Potter's resolve to remove the

stain of Tom Riddle from society and hastened to throw their support behind

Lord Potter. Some, like Headmaster Dumbledore, showed more hesitation.

"Although I cannot condone the senseless violence young Harry is carrying out,

and although his methods leave a more experienced statesman shaking his

head, his stance against the Dark forces proves him to be the new Champion of

the Light." Headmaster Dumbledore stated after arriving ten minutes late to the

press conference, obviously unaware of the attacks. He followed with a

particularly harsh comment. "I just hope this blood-thirst for revenge does not

lead to unfortunate consequences for Harry's friends and loved ones."

Lord Potter does not share the Headmaster's views.

"No, his statement does not surprise me at all, Penny. There is no purely dark

or light House. If anything, I am a Champion of Magic and of my Family.

Such can be said for any Lord or Lady of a House." Lord Potter scoffed.

"Dumbledore represents a way of thinking that, in my opinion, led us to and

left us with the situation we've found ourselves in since Grindelwald." (Please

note, Penelope Clearwater and Lord Potter attended Hogwarts together for

several years. The reporter wants to assure her readers that no disrespect was

shown by the use of her first name.)

Such an accusation against a figurehead as Albus Dumbledore would have

been unthinkable last year or earlier however many Wizengamot members,

public and not so public figures all agree with Lord Potter's assessments. (See

pages 7-12 for more information on the discussion on how Headmaster

Dumbledore has failed Magical Society and pages 4-5 on the opinions of many

prominent witches and wizards to Headmaster Dumbledore's statements).

Lord Potter responded to Headmaster Dumbledore's rather peculiar second

statement with a "no comment". Director of the Department of Magical Law,

Lady Amelia Bones had no qualms about denouncing the Headmaster's

comments as disgraceful and improper.

"Such a statement only shows the lack of -."

Hermione stopped reading, slowly handing the paper off to her father. A

very familiar look graced her face.

"Honey…" He warned her. He knew that look much too well.

"Mom?" She said. "If dad decided to run off and destroy some terrorist's

hideout. What would you do?"

Her mom sent a defeated look at her father. "Don't hurt him too much,

my little queen."

Any objection her father could have had was caught in his throat when

her mother gave him a burning look. He swallowed his complaint loudly.

He went back to nursing his coffee as if nothing had happened.

Hermione ran to their living room before grabbing the special floo

powder that Harry had given her to take her directly to Potter Manor.

She found her black-haired friend sitting in his study, facing the fire.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! WHAT DID YOU DO?"*

Harry turned around, stopping her in her tracks with one look. Tears

welled in his red, sleep-deprived eyes and several bottles of butterbeer

surrounding him. He wore the same robes that she recognized from the

photos on the front page of the Daily Prophet, from the conference he

had held just hours before.

"Mione-." He choked out her name. "I killed them. I killed so many…

Some-." He gave a small, heart-wrenching sob. "Some, I remember from

Hogwarts. Marcus Flint, Boyle, Montagne, Nott… Nott was in our year.

And I... I slaughtered them all!"

Harry's sobs overwhelmed his ability to speak. Hermione was

momentarily rendered speechless. She had never seen her friend cry

before.

"Oh Harry." She simply vanished the bottles and wrapped him up in a

shaky hug. All thoughts of giving him a piece of her mind gone. She

wasn't sure how long they stayed in that somewhat uncomfortable

position, but soon his sobs turned into soft snores. Hermione joined him

soon thereafter.

.

.

.

.

AN: Poor Harry...

In celebration of the holidays and the unbelievable response to this story,

I've combined two chapters. I hope you enjoyed it.

So, what do you think happened in snakeface's lair? What do you think

will happen to Jonas, Dumbledore and Henriette? They all play a large

role in the next two chapters.

*I imagined Hermione saying this with Olivia Pope's voice.

Many, many thanks to David305 for the awesome help in editing this

chapter! You are a blessing!

Betaed by Marc the Unruly

15. Chapter 15: A Team to

Remember

.

.

Chapter Fifteen: A Team to Remember

.

.

Hermione came to, confused and uncomfortable. There was a light

weight on her left side, and she felt rather achy.

She was squeezed with Harry somehow in the large, leather chair in his

study. They had both obviously fallen asleep fully clothed in a very

awkward and embarrassing position.

She shook the sleep from her head. Harry shifted slightly beneath her, his

arms wrapped around her tightly. Her legs draped over his. Their clothes

rustled from the sudden friction caused by her movements.

Hermione took a moment to watch her best friend as he slept.

He's truly beautiful and peaceful when he sleeps.

His head was tilted back with his wild hair going in all directions, and his

mouth was open in a carefree, lopsided grin that made her heart melt.

She decided then she could forgive him for his morning breath. The only

evidence of his emotional breakdown earlier were the dried tears marring

his otherwise angelic face and the lingering smell of butterbeer.

Over the course of their post-breakfast nap, Harry had somehow switched

positions with her. Where she had held him until he fell asleep, Harry

was now holding her. His arms wrapped protectively around her as if it

were the most natural thing in the world.

With her head so close to his, Hermione felt another wave of

contentment, mixed with a tinge of emotional discomfort. She had longed

for this moment, dreamt of it even. She had wanted to be held by him

like this for a long time, but she would have preferred it to be under

better conditions and for Harry to be awake.

Feeling her body's protests and the need to relieve herself growing more

uncomfortable and pressing by the second, Hermione carefully detached

herself from Harry, peeling his arms off of her. Harry groaned softly but

moved as she directed.

His watch - his grandfather's, she corrected herself - dangled out from the

inside of his robes. She swore under her breath as she saw the time. It

was nearly five in the evening.

They are going to kill me, she sighed at the thought of her parents'

reactions to her hours-long disappearance. She didn't even know why she

had fallen asleep. She could not remember closing her eyes or feeling

drowsy. She had not been tired in any way before she came over to

Potter Manor to berate Harry that morning.

"Master Harry's Grangy is awake!" A house-elf exclaimed, popping

suddenly into the room and startling Hermione tremendously. "Dobby is

pleased to announce that dinner is being finished."

Hermione stumbled and caught herself on the chair. Harry stirred slightly

at the sudden noises.

She placed her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. The elf's eyes

widened as he noticed that Harry was still sleeping before he - and

Hermione was pretty sure the elf was male - nodded his head slowly.

Hermione gestured to the other side of the room and headed that way,

the elf quietly following.

She took some parchment from Harry's desk and wrote a brief letter to

her parents, informing them that she would be spending the night at

Potter Manor. She also invited them to join her at the Manor if they so

wished, to keep her father from getting too suspicious.

"Um, Dobby right?" The elf nodded ecstatically as Hermione handed him

the note. The name tugged at Hermione's memory, but she let the feeling

go after a moment of drawing a blank. "Could you please deliver this to

my parents? They live-." The elf was off before she could even finish

giving him directions.

Hermione blinked. Is it possible that elves can locate anyone? He can't really

know where I live if I haven't told him… right? Or maybe he read my mind?

Pondering the still unresearched extent and wonders of Elven magic,

Hermione was completely distracted until Dobby returned with a small

note from her mother: Stay safe, we expect you to be at your father's

birthday breakfast. Love, mom.

Hermione wondered if this was her mother's way of toying with her. Her

father's birthday wasn't for another two days. She wondered what her

mother had done to get her father to agree. Or what she will do...

Hermione shuddered at the very thought of her mother blackmailing her

father with sex.

"Mistress Grangy?" Dobby asked, getting her attention. "Dobby is serving

dinner for the family in the dining hall, but Master Harry's Snapey,

uncles, goddoggy and Weasel are in the meeting room next to the library.

Yous should join them."

Not interested in seeing any of the people who most likely blamed her for

Henriette's current excommunication, Hermione immediately liked the

idea of eating separately. She was sure that Harry's family placed the

blame on her, even though Harry had reassured her that he and his

family placed the blame solely on Henriette's shoulders. Hermione had

avoided his manor the last few days largely because of her inkling.

Hermione thanked the elf and made her way to bathroom connected to

the study to freshen up before she made her way to the meeting room

next to Harry's massive library.

When she opened the door to the room, she was taken aback by the lively

and cheerful atmosphere there. Joy and celebration were in the air.

Hermione was surprised to see Professor Snape amicably interacting with

Sirius. Celestina Warbeck was playing loudly in the background.

"Ah, Hermione! When did you get in?" Sirius called out loudly as he

spotted her in the doorway.

Hermione shook her head at the red cheeks and the waft of whiskey in

the air. At least they are taking it better than Harry.

"I arrived after breakfast." She said, taking the seat across from Sirius. A

plate of food and silverware engraved with the Potter emblem

immediately appeared before her. It was as if the elves or Dobby had

read her mind. The delicious looking chicken fillet with roasted potatoes

and the right amount of sauce were simply mouth-watering.

"Hey! Why didn't that blasted elf serve us that?" Bill asked pointing to his

bowl of, what appeared to be, tomato soup.

Dobby appeared with a crack, with his hands on his hips and three chef

hats balanced somehow on his head. They must be held together by magic,

Hermione assumed.

"Yous get what yous deserves, Mister Weasel," Dobby waved a wooden

laden at the redhead, who flushed red with anger at the butchering of his

name. Hermione had the feeling that Dobby did not like Bill. "Until

Master Harry is here, Dobby serves what Dobby wants. Tomato soups!"

Sirius smiled cautiously at the angry elf, eyeing the dangerous looking,

tomato soup-laden wooden spoon it wielded like a blood-coated sword

with something akin to fear. "I think what Bill meant to nicely ask is: why

does Hermione get the main course before the soup." He gulped slightly

as the elf focused his attention on him.

"She is Master Harry's Mistress. She eats what Master Harry would!"

Sirius and Harry's Uncles Milton Arnold and Franklin Cecil shared an odd

look, and Hermione blushed to the roots of her bushy hair. Sirius' eyes lit

up with a mischievous light that made Hermione regret ever leaving

Harry's side.

"I'm here, Dobby." Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. Harry

entered the meeting room with slightly reddened eyes, but there were

otherwise no visible signs that he had been bawling just hours before, or

that we just spent the past hours sleeping uncomfortably in a chair. She

wondered briefly if he had used magic to fix his appearance. Her mind

ran through a list of cosmetic charms that would have remove bed-hair

and puffy eyes.

"Would you be so kind and serve the rest of dinner, please?" Harry asked

Dobby kindly.

Dobby gave Bill a small glare and left to carry out Harry's order.

Hermione suddenly connected the elf's name to the elf that tried to help

Harry in their second year and then once more last year during the

Triwizard mess. She wondered briefly how he came to be a Potter house

elf.

Harry picked out the seat next to Hermione. He gave her a brief peck on

the cheek, not noticing or not caring to notice the amused looks the

others sent their way.

"Thank you for being there for me earlier." He whispered in her ear.

Hermione nodded, not trusting her mouth to do anything but chew at the

moment.

"So, who managed to upset Dobby?" He asked as the meal was served.

Everyone except Hermione pointed at Bill. Harry sighed as a plate of food

slammed down before the redhead, some of its contents spilling over the

plate. "Do I even want to know?"

"Nope. Just your usual Weasley temper up against the stubborn loyalty of

an abnormally independent Head house elf." Sirius said, taking a huge

bite out of a warm roll.

Harry glared at Bill who was picking potatoes off his lap.

"I know, I know! I will apologize to the elf." The redhead said with his

hands out. "I just wanted to get you so we could celebrate. He wouldn't

even promise to wake you!"

"Nearly twenty minutes of heated discussion." Professor Snape said with

just a hint of disdain as he cut into his meal with the precision of a

surgeon. "We had to turn on the Wireless just to get some peace."

"What exactly is there to celebrate?" Hermione asked, taking a pause

from her meal. It was rather entertaining to watch Harry hold a

conversation over a meal. I don't think he even knows that the entire table

focuses on his every word and action.

Everyone gave her an "are you serious" look.

"I mean," she said with a roll of her eyes, "the Prophet was rather tight-

lipped about what you all did and promised a reportage tonight, but the

Wireless has been playing Celestina Warbeck since I opened the door."

Everyone looked at Harry, as if for permission. He shrugged. "I would

have just shown her the memory."

Bill swallowed a mouthful of food and emptied his glass of alcohol. "It all

went by quickly, even though it felt like hours for me. I wouldn't even

call it a battle. The place was filled with new recruits and werewolves."

Harry winced, most likely remembering the young recruits he had known

or known of from Hogwarts.

"And no one stopped you?" Hermione was surprised. She grabbed Harry's

hand under the table and received a brilliant smile in return.

"Why would they when we were Death Eaters?" Bill asked with a self-

satisfied smile.

.

.

"Move it or lose it, Potter!" Snape-Bill snarled as Jonas-Harry stumbled

through the entrance to the dungeons of snakeface's lair.

He could hear FC's snickering over his spitset. They had split up with the

invisible FC just moments before on the ground floor.

"You are enjoying this way too much, Snape." Harry decided as they quickly

made their way deeper into the manor.

It had been remarkably easy to infiltrate Riddle's manor. The guards barely

looked at them. With Snape's standoffish demeanor, and, due to the fact that

no one wanted anything to do with Jonas, they were both avoided and

ignored.

.

.

"Jonas?" Hermione blurted out. "Your cousin Jonas?" A dark look grew on

Harry's face.

"Don't worry. He was stunned in his bed here the entire time." Milton said

coldly, purposely redirecting the conversation in a safer direction.

Bill went on to recount how he located his brother, Charlie, and the other

captives. He shivered as he recalled the conditions of the cells and their

inmates.

"It was horrible. Some people were so dehydrated and starved that their

magic was just barely keeping them alive. And the smell of those who

didn't manage to survive…"

He went silent for a moment.

"How many do you think we managed to free?" FC asked after a moment.

Bill paused. "Twenty? Thirty? Definitely a lot."

.

.

"There are too many people to break out." He stated to his brother as he

cleaned up some of Charlie's smaller wounds. Charlie and the other Dragon

Tamers had apparently received preferential treatment. They were the least

tortured and the best fed. Probably since Riddle had big plans for them.

Bill quickly reminded himself that Charlie and the other Tamers had only been

kidnapped three days ago. Some of the other inmates looked as if they had

spent quite a few weeks in the Death Eater's care.

The noise levels were getting rather high as the released captives rejoiced,

cried, asked questions and begged for medical help.

There is no way to get them all out like Harry wanted, he assessed.

Bill gathered the strongest captives and asked them to help him bring everyone

into one room.

He looked at his watch. Fuck.

Five minutes had already passed, and they hadn't even gotten to the dragons

yet.

Remembering the spit thing that Harry had given him to communicate, he

tapped it with his wand. "HARRY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

.

.

Harry took over the storytelling with a small laugh, setting his soup to

the side. The rest of their soups lay untouched on the table. Hermione

barely noticed house elves removing the bowls.

"There I was, hunting Nagini with FC's horcrux detector in one hand and

my wand in the other when this idiot screams like a ghoul into the

headset."

.

.

BLOODY FUCKING IDIOT! Harry growled mentally as he dropped FC's

detector.

The small round glass orb hit the ground with a loud crash, releasing the shard

of snakeface's soul that had previously leeched on to Harry's scar. The black

wisp gave a small scream as it disappeared off to wherever souls, or parts of

souls, go.

He closed his eyes in frustration. He could hear the unwanted sound of

footsteps hurrying in his direction.

"Bill." He said with barely restrained fury into the spitset. "This is a headset.

You can speak as if I am standing next to you. AND I'M NOT FUCKING

DEAF!"

He heard the redhead yelp in response to his shout over the spitset. "SOR-

Sorry." The man whispered now. "I'm not used to this type of… device."

Harry sighed. "I know. What do you want? Because of your moronic

screaming, I just dropped and lost my horcrux detector."

"Shite! I'm sorry. I thought-."

"What. Do. You. Want." Harry grit his teeth as his perimeter charms picked up

three people less than twenty feet away from him.

"Right. There are more captives than we originally assumed. At least twenty

more."

"Damn!" Harry said. He saw three recruits nervously checking the corridor. He

mentally thanked the Australian Unspeakables for making robes that kept

others from hearing the wearer.

"Do you think it was the snake?" One asked worriedly looking around the

dimly lit corridor.

"Who else could it be so close to his chamb-."

Harry quickly stunned the three in quick succession. He had a plan. His

stomach churned at the very thought of what he would do, but the chances of

it succeeding seemed pretty high.

"FC, do you think you can get to Bill? I think we can work that many people

into the plan. The dragons will be hard... but as long as everyone gets out on

time, I'm happy."

"I have extra portkeys. I'm almost done with the detonators. I have one more

floor to go and then I'll be on my way to William. I will come to you when I'm

done?"

"No, I have a new plan for getting Nagini. I will portkey out alone once I bring

down the wards. Remember, you two, this all has to happen within seconds.

Wards down, everyone out, and then detonate."

Harry slowly transfigured two of the young recruits into rats. Human

transfiguration was one of the hardest to achieve, and it wasn't taught at

Hogwarts until their seventh year for good reason. It was dangerous magic. If

done incorrectly, it usually meant painful disfiguration and sometimes even

death if vital organs were ruptured or disturbed. For Harry, it was merely a

thing of concentration.

.

.

Hermione turned to him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "But...but-.

That's N.E.W.T.s level coursework!"

Harry gave her a lopsided grin. "I promise to help you when McGonagall

teaches it to us."

"Your father was very talented in human transfiguration too, you know.

He boasted about his O with distinctions on his N.E.W.T.s almost every

day, after we received the results." Sirius said. Snape gave a disgusted

look and a roll of his eyes. Sirius continued obliviously and proudly.

"Animagi usually are, since it takes years of practice with human

transfiguration to become an animagus." Here Sirius gave Harry a look

full of suspicion which Harry answered with a small smile.

"Why rats, though?" Uncle Milton asked slowly. "Is that some sort of

symbolism? 'Servants of the Snake' being turned into its prey?"

Harry laughed at the deep question. "It was something like that." He got

up to turn the Wireless down a notch before he took his seat again. "The

detector had registered that Nagini was close by, and the Death Eater

mentioned that snakeface's chambers were also nearby, so I naturally

assumed…"

.

.

Harry used Legilimency on the young recruit, a Daniel Yaxley - the son of the

captured Corban Yaxley, as Harry soon discovered. He had graduated from

Hogwarts two years before Harry had arrived, his younger brother, Walton,

would be arriving at Hogwarts next year.

What a pity. Harry thought sorrowfully. If the man wasn't such a murderous

bigot, which the glance into his memories proved him to be, Harry would have

happily let the man go. Yaxley was in training to be a medi-wizard.

He pulled the location to the throne room from the guy's head before he

transfigured him into a rat as well.

He re-stunned all three of the rodents and made his way to the throne room.

He felt himself go through three different identification wards and at least one

unfamiliar ward. The Polyjuice and magical signature charms protected him,

but he quickened his pace regardless.

He took a vial of concentrated Sleeping Draught from his robe pocket and

carefully poured it over the three rats, careful to avoid their faces for fear of